“Did you bring the recordings?” Derek turned to me with a boyish grin spread across his eternally youthful face.
“I did.” I held up the compact machine to show him. “But I have a question for you. Were you and Hans lovers? He told me you were the first person to interview him after Rebecca’s murder. Why did you keep that from me?”
He shrugged. “It didn’t seem all that important. And, yeah, we had sex, if that’s what you mean. I tried to get more out of him, played his game, but he wouldn’t spill the goods for me like he did for you.”
I searched his face. He seemed to be telling the truth. If Derek was lying, the right side of his mouth twitched. No twitch meant honesty, so I took him at his word and sat in the chair in front of his desk.
“Ready?” I flashed a wide smile, but it felt false.
He returned the grin. “Let’s hear it.”
I hit the play button and both of us gaped at each other in shock.
There was nothing but silence and an annoying sound like static. I stopped the digital voice recorder, checked the display. The MP3 readout said zero, which meant every file had been wiped off the device.
“What the fu--”
“There’s nothing?” Derek stared at me, blank faced.
I took out the memory card, put it back in, fiddled with the device some more. Still, when I pressed playback, we got nothing.
“Don’t worry, I put the files on my laptop. Let’s head to my place and I’ll play you the back up.”
“Can’t right now.” Derek held up a hand, looking annoyed. “I’ve got a meeting with our major investors in ten minutes. They aren’t pleased with our last quarter reports.”
I grimaced and stood, feeling like a shit, but also confused as hell. I checked the recordings just before I came into the office. They were there, crisp and clear. A thread of apprehension tickled up my spine.
“All right, I’ll go grab my laptop and meet you back here in two hours?”
Derek nodded, still looking pissed at this setback on top of the bigwigs breathing down his neck. Who could blame him? I was pissed, too, and completely baffled.
I rushed out of the office and slid into my Honda. Soon, I was outside my Sudbury apartment then in the elevator headed up to my unit.
As I slid my key in the door, it opened. I swore and looked up into blue eyes and a crooked angel smile.
“Hello, Greg.”
“Hans!” I gawked at him, wide-eyed. “What’re you doing here?”
He took my hand, tugged me into my apartment, and slipped the voice recorder out of my hand. “You didn’t really think I’d let you print any of my secrets, did you?” He tucked a slender finger under my chin. “I knew you were going to tell Derek everything. I thought I could trust you.”
“No, I wasn’t going to tell him everything,” I protested, pulling away from him. “I was torn about giving you up, and I thought about it, but I decided I couldn’t tell him all your secrets.”
Hans stood leaning against the kitchen counter. He appeared less than convinced. “I’m not buying that. You recorded every word. I know you did, and I’ve come here to ensure your silence.”
My mouth went dry and I prepared for a fight. A fight for my life. “Exactly how do you think you’ll do that?”
His eyes glittered like jewels. “Not in the way you’re thinking. I have no plans to kill you. Relax. But I do have another proposition.”
I crossed my arms over my chest, assumed a defensive stance just in case. I wasn’t ready to relax yet. “Let’s hear your deal.”
He smiled, his face showing all the cunning of a fox. “There’s something between us. An instant chemistry.” He moved forward and stroked my face. “I’d like to keep that. I think we could be good together.”
I shrugged, trying to deny the odd way he made my heart twist and beat harder. “I’m not really the relationship type.”
“No, but what about a mutually beneficial arrangement?” He wrapped his arms around my waist. Our lips hovered inches apart.
“I’m listening.”
“You want to work for UrbanTV. I just happen to be good friends with one of the major shareholders. I made a call earlier today, and it looks like they need a new host for their show City Life. If you agree to come to Toronto with me, and keep my secrets, the job is yours.”
I pulled back from him, gave him a speculative up and down perusal. “You’re bluffing. What about your place back in Darmoor, your business?”
He cupped my cock through my pants and rubbed the head. “I sold the business and the house. It was time to leave that place behind me. Your visit made me realize that. I told you things I’ve never told anyone. The last person I trusted like that was Rebecca.”
“But I was going to betray you,” I whispered, and the words became a moan as he unzipped my pants and coiled his fingers around my swelling cock.
He gave a throaty chuckle. “No, you weren’t. Ultimately, I know I already own your heart.”
Though his words made me shiver, I knew he was right. This mysterious, probably dangerous, man did own my heart. I couldn’t have betrayed him to Derek, even if the recordings hadn’t been mysteriously erased. And I didn’t have to ask him. I knew Hans was responsible.
“Okay, I’ll go to Toronto with you. I’ll keep your secrets.”
“Excellent.”
Hans produced a cell phone from his jeans pocket and punched in a number. A moment later, he was speaking to Drake Garton, a man I knew as a media mogul who owned 75% of UrbanTV. He held the phone to my ear and let Drake himself tell me I had the job. Through my awe, I mumbled thanks and then Hans pressed END.
Then he picked something up off my kitchen counter, and I noticed it was a riding crop. He brushed the tip over my lips. “Now, one more thing.”
“What’s that?” I asked, my eyelids fluttering closed as he continued to grope my erection, fondle my balls, while he teased my mouth with the whip.
“You thought about betraying me. You need to be punished. Kneel and give me your ass.”
I bit the tip of the riding crop then wrapped my hand around its long, thin length and tugged on it, pulling him closer. His body molded to mine.
“What if I say no?” I retorted, then I nipped at his chin.
“I have a feeling you’ll agree,” he said before he ripped my pants and briefs to my knees.
He was right. I couldn’t deny this captivating witch, and I didn’t want to. Caution went out the window with Hans, and we played round number three.
***
Janet the Giant Lover
A tattoo artist gets tied up by two giants.
By Roxxy Meyer
***
Janet the Giant Lover
I like my men big and brawny. Not all over-bulging muscle and popping veins, but, as my Aunt Macy used to say, “Built like a brick outhouse.” Okay, not the most romantic image, but you get the point.
And in my line of work as a tattooist, I deal with a lot of hot, burly giants, but nothing could have prepared me for what happened after Aunt Macy died and she willed me her little bookstore on Granville Street.
Aunt Macy told me, “Janet, when I kick the can, you can do whatever you want with this place.” She’d repeat this on most of my visits, while we had coffee and brownies like only Aunt Macy’s could make them, sitting between dusty stacks of everything from Moby Dick to Her Scottish Rogue. Aunt Macy loved bodice rippers, and she actually wrote historical romance under a few pen names. Along with the bookstore, it covered the bills and left a little over, but she wasn’t rolling in wads of Jackie Collins’ type cash advances. Still, Aunt Macy had been quite content with her life in her small cozy bookstore, with apartment over top.
Now, as I locked my Jeep and walked to the brick building, with its green and white striped awning, a wave of sadness hit me in the chest. I sighed heavily, blew a strand of platinum blonde hair from my eyes, and hitched my backpack over my tank top clad shoulder.
I c
aught my reflection in the glass door as I unlocked it. One pigtail was higher than the other and my hazel eyes looked bloodshot and bleary. My face seemed paler than usual. I was tired from the long drive up, and my faded jeans were sticking to me in the late spring humidity.
No sooner did I open the door and step into the shadowy store than someone was behind me, grabbing my shoulders with large, slender hands and whirling me around.
“You must go help them!” a tall, almost Amazonian, woman in a billowy, blue cloak whisper-rasped at me.
“Go help who?” I scrambled back from her, trying to get in the door and shut it before she could pull a knife or something on me.
But she shoved a large, booted foot in the narrowing space and grabbed at the candy striped strap of my shirt. “The ancient one from the mountains is coming. It will start a war if you don’t help them stop it!” Then she shoved a tiny drawstring bag made of burlap in my hand. “Take these. Plant them in the garden behind the store.”
And with that, she was gone. Her rubenesque form seemed to float away under the amber glow of the globe streetlamps. But her face remained in my mind. Old world, with big dark eyes that reminded me of an owl, a slender nose, full lips. She looked like a giantess who’d sprang to life from some book of myth and legends.
I opened the tiny sack she’d placed in my palm, finding three white beans inside. At least they looked like lima beans to me. Figuring I had nothing to lose, and not believing fairy tales could ever come true, I went to Macy’s little garden in the back and planted, as my visitor had instructed.
Four hours later, just as I was crawling into an older tank top and shorts with Spiderman on them--AKA my pajamas--the ground started to rumble. I thought Vancouver was finally getting that massive earthquake we West Coast Canucks feared.
But a look out my upstairs bedroom window revealed the ground was ripping open for a different reason. A humungous beanstalk tore through the earth and shot up into the sky. As it burst past me, it slapped me in the face with wide, green leaves. I batted away the offending flora and retreated back into the apartment, where I watched the thick, ropy column climb its way to the moon.
And as I stared up at the rapidly sprouting mega-plant, Jack and the Beanstalk filled my thoughts. The old fairy tale was one of my favorites, and Aunt Macy used to read it to me often when I was small and she’d pay a visit.
“Crap, I have to climb that bitch, don’t I?” I said to myself as the stalk broke through a thick patch of clouds.
Good thing rock climbing was a hobby of mine. I often went to the community center to scale the climbing walls they had there. So I headed out to the Jeep, grabbed my climbing gear, and then headed to the garden to scale a vegetation monstrosity.
Thankfully, there were deep recesses in the stalk, and thick vines I could rest on. The climb took all night, and the sun beat hot rays on me when I finally reached the top, breaking through cool clouds that hid another world above.
I gasped when I saw what laid before me. A world of emerald green with lots of rolling hills and a spattering of trees. Directly in front of me, a massive, grey stone castle loomed. It even had an old school drawbridge.
“I’ve died, and heaven is a book of fairy tales,” I said as I walked toward the towering citadel, complete with turrets and ruby-colored flags rippling in the wind.
As I walked, I noticed sheep grazing in a field, and the animals were almost as tall as I was! I expected a giant to rumble up behind me and bellow “Fee Fi Fo Fum!”
“Wow,” I exclaimed. “If only Walt D could see this!”
The drawbridge was already lowered, so I tentatively placed my climbing shoe on its weathered planks. Below me, murky moat water swirled with unseen creatures. I saw a massive flipper break through the surface, attached to an oily body that looked as big as a skyscraper. Swallowing down my fear, I focused ahead and walked quickly to the other side.
The gate leading into an inner courtyard was made of wrought iron rails, and the space between them was wide enough for my five-foot-six, curvy frame to slip through. I walked through an overgrown garden with crumbling fountains, unkempt hedges, and other decaying finery. Thanks to a small window near the base of one castle wall, I easily slipped inside the sprawling structure. The open shutters creaked slightly when my climbing shoe hit one of them as I thumped to the floor below. I held my breath and stood still, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the heavy shadow inside.
That’s when I heard the voices. I crept around a long dining table, edging closer to the door on the other side, so I could listen.
“It’s over, Rex,” a smooth baritone drifted through the cracks in the rounded, wooden door. “We both know it’s been over for a long time.”
“Bullshit!” a deeper bass voice boomed. “We can work through this. For Loki’s sake, you haven’t given us a fair chance.”
The other man laughed a bitter laugh. “Haven’t given us a fair chance? It’s been six months since Kama died. We’ve grown farther apart in that time and we both know it.”
“That’s just your unresolved grief talking, Logan.”
“No, that’s the cold, hard truth, and now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to pack.”
His footsteps made the cobblestone floor beneath me quake. I tried to skitter back from the door and out of sight, but I was too late. A towering giant with long, curling caramel hair and eyes that matched entered the dining room I hid in. He was at least two feet taller than me, and he gaped down as I gaped back.
“Well, what do we have here?” He smirked, making his baby smooth face look lecherous.
“I… I was sent by someone,” I blurted as I staggered back and my head slammed into a table leg.
Another giant entered the room. This one was a few inches taller than his partner. His hair was a shorter, shaggy mane of midnight black, and his eyes were a pale amber that almost shone yellow. A trimmed beard lined his lower jaw and a moustache slightly hid his upper lip.
“Who sent you?” he growled, giving me a suspicious frown.
“A woman. She was a giant, like you,” I rambled on about my encounter with the blue-robed giantess outside Aunty Macy’s bookshop. “She said I had to help you. Something about an old guy coming down from the mountain?”
The two looked at each other then back at me. “The ancient one,” the black haired man said.
“Think she’s telling the truth?” Caramel eyes, who was clad in tight brown breeches and a flowing linen shirt, raised an eyebrow at me, then looked back at his partner.
“Did the woman give you a name?” the one who appeared sullen asked this. He wore a vest that looked like it was made from tanned leather, and breeches that matched.
I shook my head.
“We haven’t seen a below dweller in a long time.” Caramel eyes stroked his chin as he regarded me. “It has to mean something, Rex.”
Rex, the brooding one, nodded. “Let’s put her in the cage until we figure it out.” A slow, wicked smile formed, and he reached for me just as I scooted under the table.
***
The pair of giants stuck me in a gargantuan gilded jail that reminded me of an oversized birdcage. Sadly the bars were placed close together, so there was no escaping my prison. At least not yet.
Logan AKA caramel eyes stayed with me in the spacious master bedroom where the cage was located. While Rex, the dark brooding one, left us alone. Now Logan sat on a big four poster bed, laid out with a silky plum colored quilt and matching curtains and pillows. He braced his fists on the mattress, leaned forward, and studied me.
“Why are you here really?”
“I told you.” I lifted off the multi-colored cushions sprawled across my cage floor and went to the door to return his stare. “A woman sent me.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Kama?”
I wrapped my fingers around the bars. “I don’t know. She ran off before I got her name.”
“What did this woman look like?”
I gave him a descr
iption of the giantess.
His eyes went wide then his handsome, baby face pruned in distress. “That sounds like her, only that’s impossible.”
I tilted my head. “Why’s that?”
“Kama’s dead.” Logan drew closer to the cage and sat on the cold, cobblestone floor beside it. “She was our wife, and she was a diplomat with the Royal Council of Lowland Giants.”
“Lowland giants?”
He smiled. “That’s us. Mine and Rex’s people. Kama and some others went to have peace talks with the mountain giants, but it ended badly.” His smile dropped and he looked away.
I touched his arm through the bars. “What happened?”
“She and three others in her traveling party were killed by mountain giants. War scouts were waiting to ambush them.”
I grew more curious and more confused. “How would she expect me to help you?” A ghost had sent me up a beanstalk. This was just too bizarre.
Logan shrugged and his eyes drifted as he lost himself to thought. “I don’t know, little one. I just don’t know.”
I changed the subject then. “So…what do you and your husband plan on doing with me?”
His smile was gleaming, wide, and salacious. “Well, I have a few ideas.”
And at the mention of his ideas, I had one of my own. Judging by his carnal up and down perusal of my generous curves and breasts, my plan to spring this prison just might work.
I tugged my tank top farther down, exposing ripe, round cleavage. “Really? What did you have in mind?”
Part of me wondered what kind of chance I was taking here. After all, who knew what size of penis a giant would be packing. I wasn’t too worried about protection since I was on the pill, and maybe giant’s had condoms. Who knew? It was a risk I was willing to take to get down that beanstalk and back home.
As if reading my mind, he said, “There are some things you should know about a giant first, love.” Through the bars, he brushed my cheek with big, rough fingers. “We’re big everywhere, and we like rough sex games. Are you up for that?”
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