STRANGERS IN THE NIGHT:
THE CHALLENGE
Lilah E. Noir
Copyright © 2016 Lilah E. Noir
Strangers In The Night:
The Challenge
Copyright © 2016 Lilah E. Noir
Kindle Edition
Cover by: Lilah E. Noir
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved!
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author. You can find more information on http://www.lilahenoir.wordpress.com
WARNING
This story contains explicit sexual scenes and graphic language, as well as mentions of an extramarrital affair. The future installments of this series will include group sex and elements of BDSM. If that material offends you or is against your morality I strongly suggest that you don’t buy that book.
All characters are over 18 years old.
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STRANGERS IN THE NIGHT:
THE CHALLENGE
Dedicated to the man in the shadows
You step out of the main conference hall at the distant end of the floor I'm working on. I sit on my desk, with my back to the door and type furiously, completely engrossed in my project and the lines of code appearing before my tired eyes. My brain pulsates, concentrated and intoxicated at the same time even though I am physically exhausted.
You walk in a confident stride as you pass by my desk and continue all the way to the terrace. There are some other people who accompany you but I can’t recognize their faces. I have no idea what makes me take my eyes away from the computer screen for a short instant. Do I catch you in the corner of my eye? Or you suddenly overload my senses with your strong, distinctive presence? Is it that dark, sensual chemistry you are emanating? The same maddening sensation that switches all my erogenous zones and teases my sensitive spots? That mysterious connection between two similar minds... at least similar when it comes to lust.
I cannot put my finger on it. All I know is that I stop working at once as soon as you attract my attention. I take off my glasses and rub my eyes to release the tension and fatigue before getting a better look at you.
My heart skips a beat. I do my best not to change my expression or reveal myself in any way. You don't look at me, you just talk to your companions, with a casual smile on your face, oblivious to the chaos of hormones you have stirred at my brain.
I desperately try to impose control on my feelings but I can't help it. My mouth goes dry as a desert but that thirst can’t be sated with water. I'm completely overwhelmed by you, and I don't know why. I lean back in my chair and fixate you with the same intense gaze of an addict to their favorite drug.
Is it because of the business suit and tie and all the labels that go with them? The authority and security they are supposed to represent and act like a magnet to girls and women? No, there is more than that. During my lifetime, I have known enough pathetic little boys who dress in a similar way and thought that made them superior. And now, the choice of clothes would be way too shallow criteria for a pretentious bitch like me, wouldn't it?
There is more. Your eyes effuse strength on a much deeper level. Domineering, without being offensive or abusive. Commanding yet respectful. You know what you want and how you want it.
My mind goes on and on through that brainstorming. Something tells me you're exactly the type of man whose strength and character can match my own and top it up. I feel that you can handle me, and not get scared or intimidated by the power of my desires, the extent of my lust and everything I have to offer. You can ravage me, drink me up and ask for more when our bodies melt into each other and our fluids mix...
I snap out of my stupor, realizing how absurd it is to make assumptions about a man I've only seen two minutes ago. I hope I'm not blushing even though my skin feels on fire and the soft region between my legs gets damp. I have just stirred the most ancient conflict in the mythology of my mind. Lust Vs. Logic.
Lust makes my body scream, almost as if it had a voice of its own. I have to fuck him! I must have him or I'll spend the rest of my life regretting it! But my logical side is not so easy to persuade.
There's no way in this world or another that I'll ever be your type. I’m the absolute opposite of classy and sophisticated, with my bad manners, potty mouth and heavy, man like gait. Let’s not mention that over the last months of working around the clock my social skills had gone rusty. I also let myself look like the ultimate computer nerd cliché, frumpy, unkempt and unpleasant to look at. Even if you notice me you wouldn’t give me a second glance.
Don’t make a fool of yourself! Sit, calm down and keep doing what you’re the best at, your job! You have too much to do to be daydreaming!
I silence both voices and continue to work... or pretend I'm working while I'm undressing you in my mind. I don't want to risk anyone seeing how I stare at you, hungry, horny and even obsessed. I gulp and bite my tongue, forcing my eyes to get glued to the code I've been working on... but it no longer makes sense to me. My mind is fulfilled with bold, erotic images instead and I can't chase them away.
All I can think of is how you bend me over my desk, pin my shoulder down and fuck me savagely, claiming what is yours.
Obviously, I am not the only one impressed by you. Next time I look up at you the company's secretary stands in front of you, hitting on you heavily in her usual shameless style. She giggles, talks endlessly and practically drools herself while staring at you. I'm supposed to get jealous in that situation. But I can't be bothered and even find myself amused at her. Some men would find her beautiful. Perhaps I am a hypocritical, jealous wench or the pot calling the kettle black. Nevertheless, she is the perfect embodiment of lack of taste in my book. It's not that she is ugly or badly dressed. Her body is nicely shaped, slender and well proportioned, especially in comparison with my curvy forms. Yet, the tons of make-up made her look prematurely older than her thirty years. She tries too hard, attacks you aggressively and almost throws herself at you to get a reaction. I am not even sure she is that interested but her need to be the center of attention is stronger.
Maybe that's the type of behavior you like. That is the voice of reason and its sinister whisper trying to crush my acquired confidence.
Well, as hard as I try I can't be jealous. I sit back and enjoy her pathetic display while following your body language and the interaction between you two.
You lean against the terrace door and I see how boredom creeps on your face. You smile and nod at her out of politeness though she doesn't seem to get it. I can hardly suppress my desire to laugh. That's exactly the moment you catch my stare. I freeze on the spot. The heavy gaze of your dark blue eyes has me hypnotized. You slowly shift them down my body, studying it, and go back to my face, as if you're trying to read me. You pierce straight through me, breaking my defenses.
I've never felt so naked before.
So... vulnerable, so insecure.
And the voice of reason sure as hell knows how to set fire on my insecurities and fears.
I don't have any major self-confidence problems. I’ll never be a fine lady but I know that if I try harder I can match the general concept of beautiful. But this week I nearly worked myself to death. It's the middle of the hottest summer the city has s
een for decades. I'm sweaty, tired, washed up because of stress, deadlines and lack of proper sleep. For the past few months, I've been too concerned with my intellectual development to care about looks. Nobody at work has seen me wearing anything different than a plain white shirt, old jeans, and sneakers. My messed up hair and heavy rimmed glasses don't make me feel any more attractive.
Just not my best day.
The growing, heated lust quickly pushes those fears away and makes me come to my senses. I know that if given a chance I’d make you get hard with just the sound of my voice and the movements of my body. I know I’d make you explode all over my aroused flesh and inside it, give you a night you'll never forget.
I'm no better than other women. I’m sure that you have fucked more promiscuous and dirty ones than me. But I’m capable of submitting completely, in a raw, electrifying, unprotected manner. I have no problem with being direct, revealing you my desires and follow them until the climax erupts between my legs.
Whenever I decide to give myself to the monstrous lust I truly allow myself to be vulnerable, dirty and out of control. No defense. No barriers. Sky is the limit.
I stare back into your deep, penetrating eyes, this time without fear or inhibitions. I give you just a slight hint of the filth behind my exterior. Just a little bit of opening to my dark world of desire, pleasure and midnight passion. I smile inwardly as I see you shiver a little. You quickly compose yourself and keep on staring at me with an amused curiosity. I curve lips in a half-smile. After that I put my glasses back on and turn my attention to the computer, acting as if nothing happened. My heart threatens to rip off my chest, my pulse runs like crazy.
Then I see you again as you make your way to the door. You turn to me for a brief moment to give me an unreadable smile and then you leave. I do my best not to show my frustration, though my heart sinks in despair. My fingers clutch to a pen on the desk and I sigh sadly, wondering if I'd ever see you just one more time.
I want to cry... and my pussy does it for me, creaming heavily in my panties. I quickly get up and walk to the bathroom before anyone has noticed the slight damp spot on my jeans. The voice of logic and insecurity curses at me for being so weak and vulnerable. I lean my head against the wall at the bathroom stall and push three fingers inside my wet slit, rubbing my swollen clit with a thumb. I close my eyes and imagine how you fuck me. Slow at first... then more rapidly until your cock fills me and stretches me to the maximum. Your teeth on the skin of my neck. Your hands on my ass while you pound deep inside me. I moan softly and bring myself to a powerful orgasm with your image in my restless thoughts.
I wash and fix myself, hoping at least now I'd be back to normal. Unfortunately, when I go back to my working seat I realize I won't do anything of proper quality today. My brain is too tired, too aroused, my body is also exhausted. I spend the next hour in futile attempts to compose myself but nothing seems to work. Maybe I just need to rest... and finally get some sleep. Then I will recover from my moment of insanity.
Suddenly a new message alert pops up at the right corner of my desktop. I narrow my eyes, wondering what it could be. An unknown address. Anonymous. I'm about to get a heart attack when I read the message. It can't be... I'm hallucinating.
I dare you. Show me how bold you really are. If you're not just a tease come and meet me tonight at 10.00PM at The Black Key. It is on...
I read the address, my brain still not believing what is happening with me.
Don't be late. I have only this night. Come and prove what you can... or spend the rest of your life wondering what it could have been. Your choice.
No name, no signature, not even a phone number or any other hint. Time and address.
My heart leaps in joy again and the tiredness evaporates from my system like a morning dew. I am glowing and whatever fears or restraints I have had up to that moment fade away. I am possessed by a raw determination and any voices in my head grow weak and thin.
I turn off all the programs and switch off my computer. I quickly go to my team leader to ask if I could go home earlier today because I don't feel well. He is probably relieved to see me go given all the overtime I did that week.
While I travel to my apartment brain keeps on buzzing. My imagination goes back to life and I allow the sweet premonitions ravish it. Now I must make a quick phone call to my friend, the one who can always bring my feminine side into focus with some slight makeover.
I know I don't need make-up, fancy dress, and hairstyle to blow your cock and mind, to have you fuck me senselessly.
But tonight I long to be nothing short of immaculate. Anything that is not perfect is simply not good enough.
I let the warm shower water embrace my body while I close my eyes and cover my body with sweet cherry shower cream. I am playing with the wet folds of my pussy, fingering myself slowly. It’s a blissful, small break from my intense mind activity. After all, I can't afford to get tired or drained at the moment of our encounter. The climax is short… and it dawns on me that the more I masturbate the hornier I become with the thought of what follows.
I dry my wet body in front of the mirror, studying my large, ample breasts, shapely thighs and long legs, the perfectly smooth skin around my pussy lips. I strongly hope you're not into the skinny type of girls. Even if you are, after tonight you’ll definitely change your mind.
Fears try to resurface with one final attempt to bring me back to my senses. There is one tiny detail that hadn’t slipped from my attention earlier. The presence of a wedding ring on your right hand. I stop for a moment and shrug. At that point I'm so deep into the sea of my own desire for you I wouldn't care if you had a wife at every city you visit.
Perhaps that is a mentality of a slut. Fair enough. Tonight I will be the filthiest slut you have ever met.
I spend almost half an hour trying to pick the perfect lingerie. It's been a while since I've used anything sexy so the lace and thin silk fabric of the stockings feel strange against my smooth skin. I quickly adjust to the pleasant sensation while my fingers slide over the black and white lace, studying it with my fingers and wrapping it around the flesh of my thighs. The black satin bra hugs my breasts and pulls them up so they seem firmer and more solid, with their white skin and warm flesh inviting someone's fingers to release them from the grasp. I put on the garter belt and fix it to the stockings while I look at my body in the mirror, happy with my transformation. After some hesitation, I smile wickedly at my reflection and decide to leave my pussy uncovered by any other underwear.
I go to the wardrobe and take out the black, flowing dress reaching the middle of my calves. It caught my attention months ago and I decided to treat myself, as a prize for landing my new job, and thought I would use it just for the right occasion.
I put it on and smile at myself. The overworked, intense woman slowly pulls back to give way to the confident temptress. The anxiety I may look ridiculous in that role tries to dampen my enthusiasm but I silence those doubts quickly.
I know what I want.
I know who I want.
And I'm going to get it all... tonight.
I'll worry about tomorrow when it comes.
My friend doesn't need to work too much, just evening makeup to cover the signs of tiredness and her magic touches on my hair. I decline her offer to make my hair an even lighter shade of blonde. A few tresses touch my shoulders and neck. No jewels. Just a hint of sweet perfume. I'm pretty happy with the result even though I spend the last half an hour in front of the mirror, working on the last details.
She wouldn't stop inquiring me about who I am having a hot date with. I torture her without any mercy and tease her, not saying a word. Keep on guessing. That is my secret and it will be shared with just one person. A cruel smile appears on my face as I watch her squirm in the agony of her own curiosity.
I slip into a pair of high heels, clutch on my evening purse and get in the taxi while waving goodbye at her. I give the address to the driver with an air of confidence an
d defeat his attempts for flirtation with a distracted silence. The excitement fulfills me. I really can't remember when was the last time I have felt so alive.
You'd better be ready for what you unleashed! I think with a wicked grin on my face while I watch the raindrops slide down the windscreen. The summer storm came quickly and left just as suddenly.
I try to prepare myself for any unfortunate possibilities. What if you're not there?
Tears of joy are about to spill down my cheeks as soon as I get off the car. You are sitting at a table on the street outside the bar whose address you gave me in the e-mail. Your eyes flash in recognition when you notice me walking. I see your eyes widen a little as you study my long legs, clearly liking the sight of them, quite thrilled with my new appearance. A content smirk lights up your facial features when I get closer and seat myself on the chair across from you. I smile, happy with the thought I didn't break my neck on the way and neither did I fall on my face.
You take a glass and pour some wine for me. None of us is really in the drinking mood, though. We barely touch the ruby liquid that casts shadows on our faces. We are way too busy studying each other. I stifle a breath, enjoying the effect your piercing gaze has on me. It's almost as if your fingers slide on my skin and undress me. But that doesn't make me feel ashamed or vulnerable. Instead, it only fills me with a sense of power... and arouses me.
We stay silent, drinking in the sight of the other person. My lips open slightly, my eyes glow with lust. You rub your fingers on the edge of the glass and your expression is impenetrable. I look a little deeper, sensing your hunger, the passion that slowly comes back to life, judging by your irregular breathing.
None of us feels the need to fill the silence with words. Shouldn't interactions, dates, encounters be all about that? Words, words, words. Talking. Even when you don't know what to say. I know I can tell you a lot. I can talk endlessly and still run out of time. But it's the first time I feel truly that comfortable around someone... so comfortable I don't even need to speak.
The Challenge (Strangers In The Night Book 1) Page 1