She forgot to think at all when he knelt down by the bed, gently tugging at the elastic of her shorts. She lifted her bottom, allowing him to pull down the shorts and her panties along with them.
Suddenly shy, Ashley pulled the long T-shirt down, covering herself with it. “Lift your arms over your head.” Andrew’s voice was quiet, but there was a command to it. A certain quiet sureness that he would be obeyed. Slowly Ashley raised her arms over her head, her chest heaving as her heart thumped wildly against her ribs.
Andrew lifted the soft cotton shirt, revealing Ashley’s long, lean body, the feminine curve of her belly, the slightly protruding mons covered in tufts of silky dark blonde pubic hair. Slowly he spread her thighs, revealing the dark pink petals of her labia. Ashley tried to close her legs, never comfortable with this sort of intimate scrutiny, but Andrew’s hands were firm upon her.
Again the weird thrill at being held against her own resistance. A part of her filed away the sensations to be examined later, but for now she simply closed her eyes, feeling Andrew’s warm breath against her bared pussy. She was waiting for him to rise up over her and cover her body with his. She was longing for that full embrace.
She felt the touch of his tongue against her thigh and she startled, her eyes flying open. His eyes met hers as he moved his mouth from her thigh to her pussy. Now Ashley squirmed more insistently. Ignoring her silent protest, easily holding her still, Andrew licked along the center of Ashley’s sex, making her half-sit up in surprise and chagrin.
“No!” she cried, blushing as she tried to slam her legs closed. No man had ever touched her like that. For a “whore” she was surprisingly innocent, or perhaps a better word was inexperienced. Oh, she knew how to pleasure a man, make no mistake there. But she was a veritable virgin in receiving pleasure. She held a deep-seated though unexplored shame at her own sex, at her genitals and at having someone touch them with his mouth.
She was used to being fucked but not kissed. Not there. She had to tell him. This wasn’t good. The sweet, sensual languor that had been falling over her when he suckled at her breasts seemed to evaporate as he stared at her bared sex.
“Andrew, no, you don’t understand. No, you can’t do that. Please.” Even as she resisted him, Andrew licked and nibbled at her labia, sliding his tongue along the length of her, darting it lightly at the slick entrance below. Shame now mingled with something new—an impossible sweet pleasure erupting at her sex.
She had touched herself before, often masturbating alone in her room at night as a way to help herself to sleep. But she had never felt such sweetness as this hot tongue. Andrew’s mouth hot against her sex—no!
“Please,” she tried again.
Andrew lifted his head, moving alongside her so his face was near hers. “Sweetheart, hush. I won’t hurt you. Not for anything. You have the most beautiful, sexy pussy. You taste so sweet, like honeysuckle. Just lie back. For once, please, darling, let someone else please you.”
So much to process—to absorb. It did feel wonderful. And yet how could he be telling her the truth? The words nasty cunt, filthy twat sifted in her mind, words that had helped define her to herself, however cruel and untrue they might be. Inextricably she had come to associate her pussy, her sex, her essence as a woman, as something dirty—something filthy to be used but at the same time derided.
That Andrew, her new lover, her only lover, would want to touch her there with his mouth. To kiss her there—no. And then to add confusion—his ardent statements that her sex was beautiful, that she tasted sweet.
Andrew wasn’t privy to the confusion in her brain, but he was aware of her hesitation, her nervousness. He kissed her mouth lightly and then her eyelids so that she closed her eyes. “Yes, close your eyes. Ashley, your heart is beating so hard I can feel it against my chest. Slow down, baby. Slow down your breathing and give in to me. Let me kiss that sweet pussy. Hasn’t anyone ever done that to you before?”
Slowly Ashley shook her head, keeping her eyes closed. Andrew whispered, “You can trust me. I promise. Just stay still and let me love you.” He moved back down, his mouth again at her sex. This time Ashley didn’t try to close her legs, though again she felt the blush of embarrassment as his tongue flicked against her tender folds.
He licked and sucked, finding the sweet little nubbin of her clit and drawing it out from its little hood with his tongue. Ashley cried out when he did this, and he moved away, swirling down and around, avoiding direct contact with her clit until Ashley herself actually arched her body up, spreading her thighs wider for his kiss.
Grinning, Andrew relented and licked at her center, his finger sliding smoothly into the tight tunnel of her vagina as he did so. Ashley began to tremble, bucking and arching against his hand and mouth. Pleasure began to fan out from her sex in crashing waves until Ashley was no longer aware of Andrew or herself or the fact that he was doing something amazing to her. She became pure sensation, raw lust, held tight in the grip of her own searing orgasm.
When finally the roar in her ears subsided and the world stopped its tilt-a-whirl, Ashley opened her eyes. Andrew, his mouth still wet, grinned widely at his sex kitten. He had pulled himself up next to her again, smoothing her wild hair from her face as he waited for her to come down from what was obviously an intense experience.
“So, did you come?” he teased.
Ashley smiled weakly, her expression one of pure satiation—like a cat who had just licked an entire bowl of cream. “Mr. Nolan,” she spoke slowly. “That was the most amazing thing anyone’s ever done to me. Period. I didn’t know a body could feel like that. I finally understand what all the hoopla is about.” She laughed shyly.
Andrew said, “Baby, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”
Chapter 6
The woman sat at the bar, nursing a drink. Something with vodka or gin it, he guessed. A Spic, to judge from that dark skin and those thick features. Well, they were hot, weren’t they? That hot Latin blood made ’em good for fucking. At least they weren’t dead fish like most white women he knew.
He shifted on his stool, angling for a better look. She was youngish, but looked down on her luck. She was wearing a ratty old raincoat open over a dress that was too tight and revealed pretty much all she had, which looked to be pretty substantial, at least from where he sat. He twisted a little, trying to see her ass. Maybe she wasn’t wearing underwear. The skank. She definitely looked like a whore. Maybe she needed a manager.
Greg took a long pull from his beer and thought of Ashley for the thousandth time. How the fuck had she just disappeared? Didn’t she owe everything she had to him, her savior? Stole my cell phone too, the cunt. Who knows what else she stole. My whole livelihood, that’s what. When I get hold of her, I’ll beat her so she won’t be able to work again. I’ll slash her face with a razor. I’ll keep her locked in the basement, naked and starving. The bitch. No one leaves Greg Mundy. No one.
Nursing these angry thoughts, Greg’s eyes again slid over to the girl. She looked up at him as if on cue and slowly smiled. She was cute in a Latino kind of way, he decided. Not his type, but then no one was his type. He was too savvy to get involved with women. They were to be used for what they could get him. Period. Fuck that loveshit.
Greg smiled back, standing up and moving toward her. She didn’t object when he sat down next to her. He pushed his knee against her fishnet-clad thigh and she didn’t pull it away. Staring down at her ample cleavage he said, “Hey, babe. I haven’t seen you around here before.”
“No. I’m new here. You lookin’?” She wiggled slightly so that her breasts jiggled over the top of her dress.
So, she was a hooker. “Might be. Depends what you’re offerin’, babe.”
The girl touched his thigh. Her nails were long and lacquered a deep red. “How ’bout a drink for starters?”
Greg ordered her a rum and cola at her request and another beer for himself. He could spare a drink for the little lady. They introduced themselves and he tried to
engage her in a little small talk, asking her where her family came from and how she liked the city.
They talked for a while and all was friendly. He knew how to work these girls. They were easy—a dime a dozen. Who needed that bitch Ashley? She could go fuck herself. He’d work with this new chicky baby. He had a sense about these things—not all was paradise in this little lady’s life.
Gently he probed, looking for a way to pry into her affairs without putting her off. He hit pay dirt when she admitted, “Actually, I’m kinda messed up.”
I knew it. I’m good, man, Greg thought.
The girl went on, her dark eyes wide and sad. “My man kicked me out, on account of he thought I was holding back. I wasn’t, I swear,” she hurried to add, looking righteously indignant.
“No, of course you weren’t. You look too honest for that,” Greg’s smile widened, looking almost wolfish. “The guy’s a jerk to let you go, that’s for sure. You are some hot chick, babe. Very hot.” He touched her arm, making a sizzling sound with his tongue against his teeth.
The hooker looked pleased and nodded. “Damn straight. I know what I’m doing. I can make a man a lot of money. I know I need the protection, and I pay for that protection, see? I know how it’s done. I’m no fool.”
This was too easy. It was taking candy from a baby. “What’s your name, doll?”
“Belinda. Belinda Rivera.”
~*~
Ashley woke up slowly, luxuriating in Andrew’s soft sheets. After the first time they’d made love, she had never gone back to the guest bedroom. Andrew had already left for work, promising to return as soon as he got out of court later that afternoon.
Ashley felt so good. The knots of years of tension and uncertainty had been slowly unravelling inside of her. Energy that had always been focused on survival, on being silent and as hidden as she could be, was suddenly released.
She hardly knew what to do with herself. Andrew’s dog was the joyous recipient of some of Ashley’s newfound energy, as she took Betty on long loping walks through the neighborhood until they both returned home, exhausted but exhilarated.
The ease in her body matched the contentedness in her mind. She could run a race! She could lift a mountain! She ran her hands down her body, luxuriating in the feel of her own smooth skin. Slowly a hand dropped to her sex, now constantly wet it seemed.
Ashley realized she had been too tense her whole life to ever experience the pleasure Andrew had showered on her in just two short weeks. With his sweet attentions, she had opened like a tightly curled bud into something lovely and exotic. She was like a wild orchid, opening to the sunlight of his love and affection. She sighed happily, hugging herself.
So, this was what good sex was like. This was what love was like. She had never known it. The irony that she had let men fuck her day after day, week after week, and had never felt this pleasure was not lost on her. She’d spent her life selling her body without awareness of the pleasure that body was capable of.
No more! Ashley silently vowed that she would never sell herself again. Or sell herself short. She wasn’t a stupid bitch, despite the fact that men had been telling her that she was since she could understand English. She thought of Greg and realized with a sudden smile that no thought of him had even crossed her mind for several days. Some day she would never think of him at all except maybe to wonder if he would make parole.
That’s right, because they were going to get the bastard. It had been frightening at first when the cops had come to Andrew’s house to “get the scoop on the perp”, as they had referred to Greg Mundy. She’d been nervous and very ashamed as they’d interviewed her for the details of their relationship.
She’d also been afraid, but Andrew had assured her the state was not interested in prosecuting her for past solicitations. They had a much greater stake in putting a dangerous, abusive man like Greg behind bars for as long as the law would allow.
She had warmed quickly to Belinda Rivera, the female officer. Andrew had confided the sad tale of Belinda’s little sister and Belinda’s ongoing vendetta against men like Greg. Ashley admired her spirit and the fact she was a cop.
During the interviews, Ashley had focused on Belinda, even when the other officer asked the questions, answering as honestly as she could. Despite her embarrassment, she was eager to help build a case against the man who had beat her one time too many.
Thinking now about the sting they were planning on the man who had ruled her life for five long years, Ashley shook her long hair, tossing it back as if she were tossing away the memories of that horrid man. The police would take care of him.
She stood slowly, stretching her long limbs before reaching for the dark blue satin robe they had bought a few days before when she went on her clothes-shopping spree. She ran her hands down the soft, silky fabric that clung prettily to her body. She felt beautiful and special in her new things. With Andrew’s help and approving eye, Ashley had bought an entire new wardrobe.
Idly she patted Betty’s head as she thought about their shopping adventure. Even more fun than getting new clothes had been buying new copies of the books she had had to leave behind at Greg’s, plus a whole bunch of new ones that Andrew recommended.
As they lugged home several boxes of books Andrew commented, “You know there are such things as libraries.” She knew that, but like Andrew, Ashley treasured her books and liked to have them around her even after she had read them. Until he had appeared, books had been her only friends. What a sad commentary, she realized, but quickly shook off the self-pity. No time for that now.
Even for all her crazy spending on her wardrobe and library—Andrew had tried to pay but she had refused—she still had two thousand seven hundred and thirty-seven dollars left. “What’re you gonna do with all that cash, girlfriend?” Andrew had teased as Ashley had spread it over the bed, counting it out carefully.
“You may not believe this,” she’d responded seriously. “I don’t want it. It’s dirty money. It’s money I made doing something I despised. I needed clothing and of course books.”
“Of course,” Andrew had laughed. “Woman cannot live by clothing alone.”
Her smile fell away as she continued. “Seriously, though, I think I’d like to donate it. I know that’s stupid, seeing as I don’t have any means of support right now and no prospects but—”
“No, I think that’s a great idea. I understand exactly what you mean. You want to start fresh. To earn money in a way that makes you feel happy and whole. Why don’t you send it to that shelter? The women’s shelter? They’re always seriously under-funded.”
“That’s a great idea.” Ashley agreed, hugging Andrew’s neck. “But I do need to get myself a job.”
“Sure. But you need to figure out what you want to do first. How about taking it one step at a time? You’ve mentioned maybe getting your GED. I think that’s a great idea. With all your reading, I know you’ll ace the exams. Then you could enroll over at the community college—take a few courses and see if anything grabs your interest. I see a career in romance novels.” He grinned.
Ashley’s eyes were shining. But her smile fell away as she said, “I can’t do that to you, Andrew. Just live off you like that. I want to pull my own weight.”
“Oh, stop it, silly angel. I have this house. My ex-wife left me, you know, with the house and the dog. She took off for Venezuela with some guy she met in an art class, and I’ve been rattling around this place ever since. I am so happy to have you here. It feels like a home again. Please don’t think about that kind of thing. I make so much money it’s almost embarrassing. Attorneys are definitely overpaid. And I’ve done a little investing on the side that’s been rather successful. So please, no talk of living off me. I want you here so bad it’s ridiculous. I adore you.”
“Do you miss her?”
“Who?”
“Your ex. Your ex-wife. She just up and left you. That must have been hard.”
“To tell you the truth it was a re
lief. She did what I didn’t have the courage to do. Janet got out. We married too young. We didn’t know what the hell we were doing. It only lasted four years and we didn’t have kids.”
He sat down and ran his hands through his hair. “She could have been a little more graceful about it, I suppose. Like telling me she was leaving instead of sending me a postcard from South America that she’d fallen in love with Juan or whatever his name was. Since then, I’ve hardly looked back. We obtained a no-fault divorce and that was that. I bought out her part of the house and she was happy with a big chunk of money and a big hunk of Latino lovin’.” He smiled, if a little ruefully.
“Well, I’m glad. I mean, I’m glad you don’t miss her. Because I would be jealous,” Ashley said shyly.
“Oh, a jealous woman. I like that.” Andrew laughed and caught her up in his arms, twirling her in a little dance to music inside his head until she laughed too, caught up in his silly joy.
Now she smiled, remembering the dance and thinking how special he made her feel. In the two weeks she’d spent with Andrew she’d been so focused on him that she’d barely had time to read. She would have to find space on his shelves for all her new books. She walked to the guest bedroom. Andrew had told her to use that closet because it was empty for the most part and there was plenty of room for her things.
She touched her new clothes, admiring the pretty things, things she’d chosen because she liked them, not as part of her whore costume for men who had purchased her favors from another man.
Now she looked at the winter things Andrew had moved aside for her, handling a pair of heavy jeans lined with flannel and imagining her darling man wearing them in the snow, tossing a ball to Betty.
As she dropped the pants back into place, she noticed some shelves behind the clothing. It was a small shelf moved off to the side. She’d never noticed it there before. Squatting down she pushed his clothing to one side of the closet and her own things to the other so she could see the shelf better.
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