by Ruby Madden
Grace heard the knock from her bathtub. Begrudgingly, she stepped out of it and grabbed her robe and a towel for her hair. A few minutes later, she was opening her apartment door, dripping water on the wood floor.
“Hey.” It was all she said, as she attempted a feeble smile but realized there was no point in pretending.
Cassie and Greg looked at her with concern. Greg took a step forward and extended his hand. In it, were the remnants of her smart-phone. “We wanted to be sure to get this to you.”
Grace stared at it and shook her head. “Thank you, I really appreciate it, I do. It just doesn’t matter… I’ll get a new one tomorrow before work.”
She collected the fragments of her phone from Greg’s hand and sighed.
Greg clued into the dismal look on her face. “Hey Grace, it’s just a phone. You’ll be up and running in no time.”
Grace did her best to change the expression on her face. “You’re a doll-heart Greg. Thank you, it’s not that… It’s just that… well, never-mind. I think I want to go back to my bath and to bed. I’m sorry, I’m tired, but thank you so much for bringing my phone to me. I had a fun time hanging out tonight. I’d like to do it again.”
“Sure thing, Grace. Anytime, we tend to be at one of three places after work, just text me when you want to hang.” Cassie paused and the three of them began to laugh. “That is, when you have a new phone.”
Grace rolled her eyes. “G’night you guys, you’re awesome. Thanks again.”
“Anytime Grace, anytime.” Greg gave her one last keen look and then he reluctantly started to walk away with Cassie.
Grace watched them walk halfway down the hall before closing her door and throwing the smashed parts of her phone across the room.
{ GREG }
The alarm clock going off pulled Greg out from a deep sleep.
Was it six a.m. already?
He groaned and managed to fumble with it long enough to hit the ten minute snooze button. He’d forego a shower today. Ten more minutes of sleep was worth it. Especially since he was dreaming about this girl he’d just met the night earlier.
Her golden curls were spilled around her face and it was one long, lusty kiss after another. He was just about to enter her… when the alarm clock went off again and Greg cursed out loud.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck…”
He willed himself out of bed and managed to stumble around in the dark, looking desperately for a clean pair of underwear. He padded to the kitchen and turned on a stovetop burner. He pulled out one of his favorite skillets, grateful that it was clean, and started to make himself two eggs over medium for an egg sandwich.
He complimented the simple breakfast with the best sourdough bread the city of Portland had to offer, toasted and buttered. The infusion of seasonings and sea salt gave the eggs some flavor and bite. A little bit of Sriracha cocksauce completed the simple meal.
He ate quickly and hungrily, gulping it all down with some Trader Joes orange juice. He quickly scrambled to get dressed in his Chef school uniform.
Once he had his raingear on, he grabbed his backpack, slipping his laptop into it and picked up his cell. He went down the stairs of his apartment building two at a time and half-jogged to his bus stop a couple of blocks away.
He peeked at his phone. It was 6:45 a.m. Just in time for the 6:50 bus.
He waited, along with other Portlanders in the soft drizzle and grey-skied weather of the Pacific Northwest. He texted Cassie, knowing full well that she wouldn’t be awake for at least a few more hours.
‘Can you send me Grace’s #? I want 2 hang with her.’
The bus pulled up and he loaded along with the other commuters. Once settled, he pulled out a book and attempted to read. Instead, he found himself replaying in his mind meeting Grace the night before.
Damn it if she wasn’t so sexy and sweet. He was charmed by her. He thought about when she’d sampled and tasted his desserts. The way she took her time to enjoy each one and had done a thorough job of assessing them.
A woman with an honest appetite. There was nothing wrong with it. Not in Greg’s world.
He thought about her reaction to having her phone demolished. Other than the very obvious inconvenience it would cause her, her reaction seemed a bit over the top, as if something very important had been crushed right along with it.
He didn’t think that it was the unexpected expense of it since he had managed to get a peek into her apartment when he and Cassie returned her phone parts to her and her place looked decent enough. She wasn’t rich but she did okay for herself from what he could see.
Greg puzzled more over her reaction and nearly missed his stop for pondering so deeply.
As he exited the bus and strode to his preferred morning coffee shop, he had every intention of getting in touch with her as soon as he could.
Standing in line, he noticed that Candy, the flirtatious barista, had already spotted him. It was flattering, he had to admit, but she just wasn’t his type. However, from the look of most of the other male patrons in line, she was their type.
Super slender, button cute. But not quite a women. She looked near-anorexic in Greg’s honest opinion. She was pretty, he’d give her that. But she looked pale and starved.
He’d tried once giving her samples of his ‘homework’, some of the most fattening pastries he was able to conjure. She’d hastily accepted them, gushing about how good they must taste. She pretended that she would eat them as soon as humanly possible.
However, later that day when he’d needed an afternoon pick-me-up, and had gone back to the coffee shop, he noticed his pastry gift sitting on the back counter, uneaten.
He’d asked about them and the barista had carelessly explained that a guy brought them in for Candy. It was explained to Greg that Candy left them behind after finishing her morning shift and she told the afternoon staff to indulge in them as she couldn’t eat them.
Not only was Greg offended, he was bothered by why someone would choose to not enjoy them? Then he was able to connect the dots, Candy was obsessed with her weight and more than likely an anorexic. Which saddened him, for her.
She may not have realized it, but nearly four years worth of hard work was put into those sweet creations.
Here she stood before him, beaming a big smile at him.
“Greg, would you like your usual?” She purred, picking up a large paper cup, blinking her heavily mascara’d eyelashes at him.
“Yeah, thanks Candy. I’m pretty predictable.” He pulled his wallet out to pay the cashier.
“I sure wish I could drink large white chocolate mochas every morning and still keep my figure.” Candy pouted playfully, patting her tummy.
Greg had to keep from frowning. How to be polite?
He let out a fake laugh, it was the best he could do. He had Grace on his brain. Grace and all of her feminine, womanly, soft curves. Plentiful and inviting.
Candy noted the fake laugh and scowled a bit, embarrassed that the tall, lanky and lean chef student seemed put off by her pretense of gaining weight.
She finished the transaction and noted that Greg tipped her well, regardless. Miffed or not, at least he was a good tipper.
Greg stepped aside and waited for his espresso drink. He observed as some of the male patrons gushed over Candy. Most of them looked like douches to him, men who had no clue what they actually liked or preferred, but played the role of posing. Pleasing whatever societal brotherhood bullshit that had been stuffed down their throats for their entire lives.
It made Greg want to puke.
One of the reasons he’d come to Portland, besides for school, was to find company amongst people who were self-defined individuals. Sure, there was still your mainstream crowd, but at a far less ratio than other cities in the country, he’d discovered.
Once the barista handed him his drink, he strolled a couple of blocks to school, sipping at it eagerly. He would be halfway done with the desse
rt espresso drink by the time he walked through the doors.
Greg was almost done with his baking and pastry arts degree. Six more months, and he’d be free. Free to travel the world and make desserts along the way. It had been his dream for a long time to become a famous pastry chef.
His secret thrill? Watching sexy women like Grace appreciate and indulge in his sweet creations. Having witnessed her appetite, he was sure he could win her over.
And hopefully, seduce her.
{ CLAY }
Clay was in just about as bad a mood as he could possibly be in. A few weeks had come and gone.
Grace still hadn’t called.
He was pulling together his personal belongings and getting ready for his flight to San Francisco. His Father’s cancer treatment wasn’t going well and despite the many demands of his new boss, Clay had finally met up with his Human Resources representative at work to request a leave of absence so that he could spend some time caring for his Father.
As he packed, he groaned in recollecting the night before. He’d made the colossal mistake of going out after work for drinks with some of his male colleagues. Little did he know that Hannah, the department admin, would arrive later to join them.
Liquored up more than he liked to admit, the sexy, perky blonde finally got what she had been chasing.
A piece of Clay.
Clay wasn’t proud, but when a women takes control and decides to get a taste of his manhood in her hot little mouth, who was he to resist? How she had gotten his pants and boxers off so quick was beside the point. Besides, Grace wasn’t going to call him. That was certainly clear enough.
Upon waking that morning, with Hannah having invaded his bathroom, being way too chirpy and chatty for his hangover, he’d used every trick in the book to get her out of his place as fast as he could.
She padded out of the bathroom, wearing his over-sized white work-shirt, the sleeves rolled up. He had to admit to himself how sexy she looked, all shower-fresh and her long, lean athletic legs peeking out from the bottom.
Hannah wrapped her arms around him and caressed his stomach, her hands starting to trail downwards towards his groin. He gripped her wrists and hands gently, stopping her. Ignoring the look of hurt on her face, he knew it would be fueled into feminine rage by the time got back from his leave of absence if he didn’t pull the cancer card.
“Hannah, I had a fantastic time with you last night, I swear. But I gotta finish getting ready to fly to the Bay Area. My Father’s sick, he’s going through chemo for cancer and I’m all he’s got to help take care of him. I have to leave for the airport in an hour.”
Her glare softened to pity. She quickly started to get dressed and began her exit. “Let’s do it again when you get back. You’re a great fuck Clay.”
She didn’t see it, but Clay winced. So crass. Did she have absolutely no class? No self-regard? Hypocrite… he muttered to himself. You’re the ass who screwed her. Who are you to think like that about her?
She walked to the door and he did the gentlemanly thing, escorting her out. She flashed him her best smile and licked her lips. “When you come back, I’m gonna blow you right into my life.”
Clay paused, ignoring his need for feminine attention long enough to get her out the door and politely kissing her – on the cheek. He patted her ass as she turned and walked away, winking at her when she peered over her shoulder.
He shut the door, leaning against it and sighing. It was Grace’s plentiful ass that he found himself thinking about it.
Snap out of it Clay!
He managed to get his thoughts pulled together enough to finish packing and head out the door for the airport.
{ GRACE }
The rainstorm pattered against her window and the wind was causing the branches of a tree to thrash against the outside wall. Grace was wide awake, having stirred herself suddenly out of a bad dream – a nightmare.
She reached over to turn on her bedside lamp and listened to the storm while her heart, which was beating rapidly, calmed down.
The bad dream hung in the air. Grace fought back a sob but it was useless. She always awoke from dreams like this feeling as if they were very much real – a life lived elsewhere. She gave in and allowed her tears to flow freely.
The pain of these dreams never left her, partly because they came from bad residue of her own, very real fears. Although it had been years, she continued to deal with the trauma of what had happened to her at the frat party she attended when she was a Senior in High School. It still felt as if it happened yesterday.
She wondered if the pain of it would ever wane?
Grace tried not to think about the night she lost her virginity when raped by three frat guys, one of which was her then best friend’s older brother, Philip Stanton. She knew she shouldn’t have gone to a college party with Alyssa, but she had wanted to find out what college might be like. She was so eager to be done with and out of High School. She had behaved, felt and looked more mature than her peers.
The problem was that Alyssa’s brother always did have eyes for his little sister’s friend. Unfortunately, he’d learned some bad behaviors from his frat brothers in college and decided to use one on the innocent and unsuspecting Grace that night.
Unbeknownst to her, he slipped a date-rape drug into her drink. It wasn’t as strong as most of them, but enough so that Grace found herself raped by him no less than an hour later in his dorm room.
The worst part?
Philip had left her in his dorm bed to sleep it off and went back to the party. The problem was that two other frat guys figured out what he had done and waited for him to leave his room.
Once Philip left, they each raped Grace.
Half-conscious but not strong enough to fight them off, Grace had cried and moaned helplessly as they crudely used her body, ignoring her pleas to leave her alone. To this day, Grace had no idea who these two guys were. She was only sure about Philip. She’d never seen the other two before.
Years later, done with college herself and out in the world on her own as a full-fledged adult, she’d been emotionally paralyzed when it came to men, sex and relationships. As badly as she ached and yearned for a boyfriend, a lover, a fuck-buddy – she just couldn’t get over her very real fear of the male sex.
Grace knew it was unfair, to judge them all based on that one horrible night’s experience, but logic seemed to make no impact on her emotional self and inner psychology. She’d done the right thing and sought treatment and therapy for rape survivors. Somehow, though, whatever sexual desires she’d had, she managed to replace and bury with her appetite for food and a preference to spend her time alone.
Until recently.
As the nightmare drifted away, leaving her peace, Grace’s thoughts shifted to those about Clay and Greg. She wanted them both. She desired them both. In some ways, similar. In other ways, not so much.
Was this wrong?
She thought about the way they each moved, their hands, what it would feel like to have them touching her – at the same time. She slipped her hand down and under her underwear, into her groin. She began to rub herself and allowed herself to slip away into one of her naughtier fantasies.
Being screwed by both of them, at the same time. She imagined Clay’s member in her mouth and sucking him off while Greg ate out her pussy and slipping his fingers inside her, stimulating her G-spot. The pleasure built up quickly. Hungrily. Sweet and tender, she touched that need within her, that desire to be loved, wanted, lusted after and pleased.
A sense of fulfillment she had yet felt. For now, it was a fantasy…
Grace climaxed quickly and hard, a cry of release flew out of her from deep in her throat.
This was the best way to get herself to fall back to sleep. Her eyes closed, the rainstorm still going strong outside. Grace drifted away, into sleep and better dreams.
{ CLAY }
Clay tossed and turned in the guest-room bed of his
Father’s home. Although he usually loved going home, to San Francisco, this time he couldn’t find the peace of mind he needed to get some rest. Between his concern for his Father and his inexplicable enthrallment with the elusive Grace, it was a wonder he’d slept at all of late.
With Christmas and New Year’s Eve just around the corner, the predicament of his situation seemed to be amplified. It was hard to be anything but depressed and sad. His Father needed him, to be there for him, strong and supportive.
The rainstorm was pounding most of the northern part of the West Coast. Soon to be holiday travelers were debating on whether they need to change travel plans as the storm was creating quite a mess for those flying. Clay was relieved he had left when he did, otherwise he might have had to stay in Portland. That or drive down to his old hometown.
Clay looked at the clock and cursed the time. It was three thirteen in the morning. He pulled back the blanket and got out of bed. Restless, he decided to read. Clay pulled out the erotic romance book he’d bought for Grace at Powell’s.
On impulse, he’d tossed it into his luggage. It had been the morning after his one-night stand with Hannah and he’d paused to pick it up, wondering how Grace was. As if the book somehow connected him to her, he wanted to know more about her. Why not read it? Clay knew there was an element of self-torture, especially since he now heavily doubted that she would ever contact him. But why?
She’d seemed so sincere when they had coincidentally run into each other again. Clay considered himself pretty good at reading the ladies. He never wanted for a bed-mate. That was the thing of it, Grace had stirred a deeper desire in him. She’d kindled the beginning of love and Clay knew it. It was why his heart ached. Why he was consumed with this woman he barely knew.
He looked at the book and smiled. So feminine and erotically appealing, the covers of these books. He could see why it must be easy for readers to disappear inside them. He laughed out loud at himself as he got back into bed and pulled up his blanket. He read the back and felt his cheeks flush.