Of Flesh and Skin - A Darker Erotic Collection

by R. T. Riley

  Contents

  Copyright

  Title Page

  Introduction

  The Stories

  Reconnection

  The Watcher

  The God Machine

  Gone

  Of Flesh and Skin

  The Deal

  Amalgamation

  About the Authors

  Husks

  The Butterfly Waltz

  Copyright © 2013 R. Thomas Riley and Lisa Jenkins

  Cover art by Elder Lemon Designs

  All rights reserved.

  Reviewers and writers of magazine and newspaper articles may quote brief passages from this book as needed for their work. Otherwise, no part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission of the publisher.

  MinnKota Publications

  P.O. Box 1603

  Minot, ND 58702

  Of Flesh & Skin

  By

  R. T. Riley & Lisa McCarthy

  Introduction

  R. Thomas Riley is best known (or hopelessly unknown, as he likes to say) for his short story collection THE MONSTER WITHIN IDEA, previous published by Hugo Nominated Apex Publications. After a decade of writing horror and dark fiction, it's time for something a bit different...

  Lisa McCarthy, author of THE BUTTERFLY WALTZ, has already succeeded beautifully with a well-written, thought-provoking, wrenching study of a disintegrating marriage and the fight to save it. The sex scenes were written with skill and attention to detail, and there was hardly a wasted word in this piece.

  I loved the novella and during a conversation with Lisa, the idea of writing a series of darker, erotic fiction stories was broached. Why couldn't there be erotic stories that was well written, deeper, and thought provoking, with more than just hot sex scenes, we asked ourselves?

  What started out as a seemingly harmless idea that most writers toss out there, then forget about, the idea began to ferment, take shape, and sound like a really viable idea. One conversation led to another, until we decided we would write just that type of erotic fiction ourselves.

  These stories were designed to be uncomfortable, to explore the darker side of sex and relationships (we're horror authors after all!), and to bring something a bit deeper to erotica. Sex, sex, sex, and more sex, with a darker tone, rambling down some fairly dark alleyways.

  Sex addiction, stalkers, deviant sexual experiences, threesomes, male/male/female, even a Lovecraftian science fiction piece, it's all packed in this collection.

  Simply put, OF FLESH AND SKIN is not, and was not designed, to be your typical erotica short story collection.

  And now the stories…

  Reconnection

  Melissa ignored the tiny voice in her head until she couldn’t take it any longer. She stayed up and waited for Doug to walk through the front door. She occupied herself with a season marathon of Dexter on Netflix and composed what she was going to say in her head. The show was one of her favorites, but the impending confrontation with Doug distracted her from following the show. So, she turned it off and paced, more intent on saying just the right words and trying to tell Doug exactly how she felt about his absence and her raging sexual frustration (she’d resorted to getting herself off four times a day). The whole situation was driving her crazy.

  Before they were married, she and Doug had had a fairly hot sex life. They couldn’t seem to get enough of each other. Doing it in the car, the rest of the date forgotten. Doing it in the bathrooms of restaurants because they simply could not wait until they got back to his or her apartment. Doing it in a deserted movie theatre on a random Monday afternoon.

  Things didn’t slow down much either once they’d married. It was a bit more difficult now with the twins in their lives, but somehow they managed to carve out the time to satiate their desires. All things considered, Melissa had been happy and she thought Doug was as well.

  Then Doug had been promoted at work. It meant more money, but it also meant more time away from her and the twins. Melissa was grateful that Doug had a job, especially in this economy, and she was grateful that they’d could theoretically do nicer things, but that had yet to happen.

  Doug started staying later and later at the office, working on some new massive, complicated project and when he finally did come home, he’d stay in his office and work long into the night. Melissa gave him his space, occupied herself with the twins and various other household things, but she missed ‘those days’. She had needs, didn’t she? And what about him? His needs?

  That’s when the paranoia started to cozy up to her and whisper in her ear. Was he really working on a project that required him to put in twelve hours, six days a week? And what was he really doing in that office of his until all hours of the night?

  She wanted him deep inside her. She wanted to feel his strong hands clutching her buttocks as she writhed on his rock hard cock. She wanted to see the desire in his eyes once more as they raced towards climax together. She missed him grabbing her roughly while she was cooking dinner and ravaging her right there on the kitchen table for no other reason than because he wanted to get off and she was his means.

  Everything she had rehearsed in her head disappeared as she heard the garage door rumble open. Her palms were slick with sweat and her breathing quickened. Why was she suddenly so nervous? This was Doug, her husband, but she felt like she was just about to plunge into a conversation with a stranger.

  He entered the kitchen and placed his briefcase on the island, walked over to the refrigerator and grabbed a beer. She stayed where she was, in the shadow of the living room, watching him through the entryway. Doug sighed and popped open the bottle. He tilted it back and drank deeply.

  He was tired, she could tell, from the slump of his shoulders and the way he slowly loosened his tie. Finished with the beer, he placed the bottle in the recycle bin and turned to enter the living room.

  “Melissa!” he said. “What are you still doing up? It’s late.” He chuckled nervously as he recovered from the shock of her lurking there in the darkness.

  She said, “Doug, we need to talk.”

  “Something happen with the twins?”

  “No, it’s nothing like that. We need to talk about us.”

  “Oh.”

  “What’s happened to us?”

  He sighed and ran a tired hand over his face. He said, “Honey, really? Now? I’ve just had a grueling day and I’m beat. Can this wait until tomor--”

  “No, it can’t wait.”

  “Ok. Talk.”

  “Don’t be that way, Doug,” Melissa said. This was not going the way she’d planned at all. She was frustrated. She felt a scream building deep in her gut and she was scared she wouldn’t be able to contain it if it slithered up her throat. Doug was on the defensive, too. This wasn’t how she’d envisioned this conversation going.

  “What way is that?”

  Melissa decided to try and defuse the growing storm between them. “Are you happy, Doug?”

  “Happy?”

  “With us? With how our lives have turned out?”

  He sighed and walked over to the island and took a seat on one of the bar stools. He motioned for Melissa to take a seat across from him.

  She sat and immediately reached across the gap, placing her hands on top of his. She suddenly had the intense desire to touch him, to feel his warmth.

  “What’s going on, babe?” he asked.

  “I don’t know, not really. I just feel off...we feel off.�
��

  “Look, I know things have been stressful the last few months. I get that, but you’re doing such a great job with the twins, the house, all of it. I’m very appreciative of it. I really am...”

  “But? There’s a but, isn’t there?” Melissa said. She immediately hated herself for the tone she’d just taken.

  “No,” Doug sighed. “There’s no but. Just hear me out, ok?”

  Melissa took a breath and nodded bravely. She said, “Ok.”

  “We’re getting older--”

  “Speak for yourself, buster.”

  Doug smiled at her attempt at playfulness, nodded his head and grinned. “Ok, I’m getting older. To be honest, I’m worried, with all the work, and coming home so exhausted, that I won’t be able to keep up with you the way I used to.”

  Doug’s confession floored Melissa. She’d had no idea he felt this way. “Oh Doug,” she said with a sigh. “I just want you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted...well, that and the hot sex,” she finished with a sly grin.

  Doug smiled, blushing even, and looked at the ceiling. “Ok, I get it. I’m sorry I’ve been neglecting you. Now, should I take you right here in the kitchen or would you like me to fuck you in our bedroom?”

  Melissa smiled and began to undress. She slowly unbuttoned her top, pausing midway. She then reached under her dress and slipped her panties down her legs, one leg at a time. She turned and walked towards the hallway. “I want you to fuck me on the stairs.”

  She knelt on the stairs facing away from Doug, smiling as she heard the tinkle of his belt buckle, then the metal snick of his zipper. Her pussy pulsed with the anticipation of his entrance, but he surprised her by kneeling behind her and spreading her ass checks. She gasped as she felt his tongue flick across her lips. He plowed his face deep, breathing her essence in, groaning as her juices wet his unshaven chin. The roughness of his whiskers sent violent pulses of sheer pleasure through her and Melissa bit her lip to keep from crying out.

  Her arms gave out and she collapsed against the stairs. Doug played about the entrance of her vagina with his fingers, slowly kneading her womanhood. He moved to her asshole and gently probed the opening with his tongue. Her hole contracted around his tongue and she felt the orgasm building deep within her belly.

  She moved to turn around and Doug forced her roughly back to the stairs. “Don’t move,” he hissed.

  The carpet was rough against her cheek as he delved deeper within her. He slowly drove a finger into her ass and two others into her pussy. Rhythmically, she began to push back against his knuckles. Her whole body clinched as the orgasm ripped through her. Her face burned against the carpet.

  Doug withdrew his fingers and shoved them into her mouth as she keened, greedily sucking the fingers, tasting herself. She turned around and this time he let her. She grabbed his cock in her hands and flicked the tip with her tongue. He groaned and grabbed her hair. She took a breath and allowed her head to be brought forward, opening her mouth wide. Her jaw ached and she gagged as his member slammed against the back of her throat. She felt his cock pulse and then the hot rush of cum filled her mouth. He moved to withdraw, but she grabbed his hips and plunged him deeper.

  He cried out, legs shuddering to keep him upright. Finally, she let him pull out of her mouth. She looked up at her husband and smiled.

  “That? Is what I’ve been missing,” she said.

  The End

  The Watcher

  September 21st, 2012

  The dusk’s grey light seeped through the French doors, casting silver shadows across the bed. Kiera slipped the silk shirt from her back, kicking it to one side as it fell. A stiff vodka had helped to ease the tension in her neck and a long hot shower would eradicate the rest. She massaged the back of her neck as she crossed the room, her hand’s circular movement leaving tingling skin in its wake. A flash of light cut through the gloom outside and she stopped, staring through the shimmering voile drapes, trying to catch the source. Again, a glint of light came sharp and quick.

  Intrigued, Kiera held her breath and waited. Once again, same place. She knew there was nothing but trees in that particular location, nothing that would explain the light. Darkness was rapidly claiming the waning light and soon it would be impossible to make out the trees, let alone anything in them. She grabbed her telescope and dragged the heavy, ancient piece across to the side window. She could easily afford a much lighter telescope, but she enjoyed the oldness of this one. She aimed the sight at the spot in the trees. At first, the woods seemed silent and empty, that space in time between night and day where the diurnal world slept. Then movement. A subtle shift in the shadows.

  She adjusted the settings, zoomed in on the spot. He stood, barely visible against the gnarled bark of the tree, binoculars trained on her, unwavering. Kiera’s heart slammed against the walls of her chest. She reached a hand behind her, searching the bed for her bag, not wanting to taker her eyes of the figure in the trees. Fingers brushed against leather and she leant back, grasping the handle. Pulling it towards her, she turning, knocking the side of the telescope. It rocked on its stand, catching the drapes.

  ‘Shit,’ she said aloud, rummaging through the contents of the bag for her cell phone. Placing an eye back to the lens, she scanned the woods again. He was still there, binoculars held to his face, unmoving. Kiera held the cell phone to the window. Still no movement. She unlocked the screen and started to dial. Nine, one…Her finger faltered on the button as they eyed one another through the glass.

  “Fuck!”

  The man watched as she placed the phone on the bed, her hands trembling with fear, her body with excitement. Kiera crawled under the covers, pulling them up to her neck, and drifted in and out of dreams.

  September 22nd, 2012

  The morning dew coated every available surface, turning the woods into a mass of shimmering diamonds. Kiera made her way to the spot in the trees, looking for any clue to the identity of the watcher. Apart from a flattened area of grass there was nothing. What had she been expecting anyway, a calling card? Shaking her head, she made her way back through the trees, across the lawn, and into the kitchen.

  The bittersweet smell of coffee gave an air of normality to the morning and Kiera breathed in deeply. “Don’t mind if I do,” she said to the pot, grabbing the handle and pouring the hot brown liquid into the waiting mug. A clattering from the hallway made her jump, spilling the coffee onto the counter. Laughing at herself for being so skittish, she placed a cloth over the top of it and skipped towards the front door. Mr Postman hadn’t been kind. There was a pile of letters and parcels on the rug and she could already see some red overdue signs peeking through the plastic inserts. Shuffling them into a pile, she carried them back to the kitchen, placing them on the table while she finished making the coffee. Glancing at the pile, she hesitated in the doorway. They were probably all bills anyway, and they weren’t getting paid until the canvas was finished. She wrapped her hands around the mug, letting its warmth seep through her skin and turned her back on the table, heading off to the studio.

  The sun was low in the sky by the time she surfaced, with bleary eyes and aching hands. Kiera threw a tray from the freezer into the microwave and turned the knob. A ding followed by a low hum represented the extent of her culinary skills these days, although she had become quite the expert at uncorking wine. Rinsing a glass under the tap, she pulled a bottle from the rack and, with a quick twist and pull, filled the glass to the top.

  Seated at the table, she pushing the morning’s letters to one side, focusing on the parcels. New brushes, the acrylic paints she’d been waiting for, a collection of photographs from a client. She flipped through them quickly, taking in the images. Not too hard, two months, three paintings, mental note, email acceptance and timeframe. The final package was soft, pliable, with no stamp attached. Kiera turned it over in her hands looking for any sign of where it came from. There was none.

  Ripping the edge of the envelope, she tipped the contents onto the
table. Thin cream satin slipped from the paper, sliding like water onto the table. She took hold of the edge and held it up. It was a teddy. An expensive one. Delicate lace edged the top, and the skin of her hand showed through as she ran her fingers across it. Holding it against her, it barely grazed the top of her thighs. Kiera carefully folded it, and looked inside the packaging. A single scalloped edged piece of card lay at the bottom and she carefully fished it out.