She Said Yes!
By Shawna Jeanne
Published by JMS Books LLC
Visit jms-books.com for more information.
Copyright 2014 Shawna Jeanne
ISBN 9781611526622
Cover Design: Written Ink Designs | written-ink.com
Image(s) used under a Standard Royalty-Free License.
All rights reserved.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Published in the United States of America.
* * * *
She Said Yes!
By Shawna Jeanne
The clock on the dashboard read 11:03 when Marianne Williams finally turned off the interstate at the Ashland exit. The interior of her late model Honda Civic glowed a cool blue, pushing back the darkness outside, and the radio played so softly, she could barely make out the tune. It was late; she was exhausted. She’d been on the road for the past three and a half hours, and her sore shoulders would remind her of the long drive in the morning. But right now all she wanted was a mug of hot tea and her boyfriend Johnny’s warm body curled up beside hers in the bed they shared.
She glanced at the clock and debated calling him. Was it too late? Probably—knowing Johnny, he fell asleep in front of the television after eating takeout, and she’d walk in on a messy house she was in no mood to deal with at the moment. For the past four days, she’d been out of town at a work conference, and she called home around nine every evening to check in with him. After a long day of boring seminars, break-out sessions, and PowerPoint discussions left her head spinning with projected sales figures and ways to increase production, she looked forward to a little downtime with her lover. Even if most of it had been listening to him go on and on about whatever it was he and his best friend Ben had done that day. At least it was Johnny’s throaty voice, soothing in her ear, and she could sink down in the covers of the hotel bed and imagine him purring into her, his strong hands caressing her body as he spoke.
At thirty-three, Marianne thought she was mostly happy with the way her life was turning out. She had a stable job as an executive assistant at an up-and-coming chain of fashion boutiques; five franchises had opened in the Richmond area earlier in the year, and three more were scheduled for the next quarter. It wasn’t what she’d always imagined she would do when she “grew up,” but it was steady work and good money, and she liked her boss, which she’d found out the hard way counted for a lot when it came to liking her job. She had her own car—an older model, to be sure, but already paid for, so she didn’t have a loan hanging over her head—and she rented a large, three-bedroom home in a nice subdivision where she could see herself one day settling down.
And, of course, she had Johnny. When she did settle down, it would be with him.
Two years her junior, Johnny Dodson was attractive in that sexy, frat boy kind of way Marianne always liked in a guy but could never seem to claim for her own. He had sandy hair that never seemed out of place and a slim, trim frame with six-pack abs and rippling pectorals despite his love of pizza and video games. When he smiled, his eyes actually twinkled, which always melted Marianne; no matter how mad she might be at him, for whatever reason, those eyes guaranteed he was never in trouble with her for long. She just couldn’t stay angry with him, and damn it the hell, he knew it. He loved her, she knew he did—he told her all the time, and he bought her rings and bracelets, did the dishes without being asked, made dinner when she’d had a rough day at work, all the little things that proved he loved her, and only her. But sometimes he could be so infuriating, especially when he smiled and winked and knew she’d forgive him, no matter what. Luckily for her, he wasn’t the wandering type.
Well, no, that wasn’t quite true. Johnny didn’t cheat on her with other women, but there was something about his friend Ben Stewart that always set off her alarms.
Marianne had never dared to ask if there was anything going on between them. The guys had been best buds since high school, and no matter how much Johnny might claim to love her, she suspected if push came to shove, he’d choose Ben over her in a heartbeat. She didn’t want that to happen. So she ignored the playful looks and flirty banter, and the way Ben touched Johnny inappropriately at times. As long as Johnny was faithful to her, she could overlook whatever might be between them.
And, God, could she even admit it? Part of her was sort of turned on—just a little bit—by the thought of her man getting it on with another guy. There in the quiet interior of her car, alone, she felt a warmth spread between her legs at the thought of Johnny’s hands flat against Ben’s broad, hairy chest, Johnny’s strong thighs clamped tightly around Ben’s narrow waist. She imagined the two men wrestling together on the floor of her living room, both naked, sweaty and hard, and she shifted in the driver’s seat as a spike of lust shot pleasantly through her cunt.
If Johnny was asleep when she got home, she might have to pull out her vibrator for a quick release before calling it a night. How far could she take the image of her lover and his best friend frolicking in the buff? One hand drifted down to press hard against the front of her jeans, where a sweet ache blossomed. She couldn’t wait to find out.
* * * *
Though she was with Johnny, it was Ben Marianne met first. He was the general manager at the rental car company her boss favored—with so many boutiques in the Richmond area, and more scheduled to open, company policy was to use a rental whenever possible to reduce wear and tear on personal vehicles and limit liability. Most of the travel was done by Marianne’s boss, which meant she had to arrange for the rental cars to be dropped off at their office ahead of time.
The first time Ben came in, keys in hand, Marianne was smitten by his devilish goatee and sexy grin. He reminded her of a young Robert Downey, Jr., with an extra twenty pounds broadening his chest and shoulders. It was after four in the afternoon, and his suit was a little rumpled that late in the day, but it only added to his charm. Leaning down over her desk, he dangled the keys to a rental car in front of her and said, “Your chariot has arrived, milady.”
Marianne giggled. “You look like Iron Man. Well, no, the guy who plays Iron Man. I mean, the actor in the movies, not the way he’s drawn in the comics.”
He gave her a wink that made her blush. “I hope that’s a good thing.”
“Oh, it is,” Marianne assured him. “God, that guy’s hot. He could make a movie of him just sitting on a couch for two hours and I’d pay to see it.”
Ben grinned wider. “So you’re saying I’m hot.”
Realizing her gaffe, Marianne ducked her head and took a deep breath to steady herself. Her face was on fire, and now that he was staring at her so intently, she couldn’t seem to meet his gaze. What color were his eyes, even? She didn’t know. She wasn’t able to look higher than the nametag on his lapel that read Benjamin Stewart, Manager.
Grasping for something to change the subjec
t, she asked, “You’re the manager and you deliver cars to clients? Now that’s what I call customer service.”
“It’s what I call being short staffed.” Ben palmed the keys and folded his arms in front of him on the top of her desk, and didn’t seem in the least bit interested in moving any time soon. He smiled down at her like a benevolent god, and she snuck glances up at him when she thought she could get away with it, but every time she did, their eyes met and sparks flew. At least, they did for her. By the time he left the office, her panties were going to be wet.
After an awkward moment, Marianne spied the telephone and sighed in relief. “Let me get Ms. Harper up here to sign for the car.”
When her boss was at the front desk, Ben was all business—he stepped back and straightened up, his smile reserved for Ms. Harper now, his eyes no longer on Marianne. For the first time since he had entered the office, she felt as if she could breathe again.
She turned to her computer and pretended to ignore the interaction between her boss and the rental car manager, but she couldn’t deny the way her heart fluttered every time she glanced up and saw Ben’s smile. When Ms. Harper shook Ben’s hand, Marianne thought maybe she could finally get back to some semblance of work—or maybe dip into the restroom to rub a quick one out while the memory of the man was still fresh in her mind. But, to her surprise, Ben lingered by her desk when her boss left.
A bit more composed now—she hoped—Marianne asked Ben, “Can I help you with something else?”
“Let’s get back to where you said I was hot,” Ben joked.
Marianne laughed. “No, I didn’t mean…I’m not saying you’re not, but…I don’t—”
He smiled down at her, obviously enjoying her discomfort as she stuttered through a reply. Finally he covered her hand with one of his, and the feel of his warm skin on hers really did make her panties wet, just a little bit. “It’s okay, I’m only teasing,” he assured her. “I don’t want to ruin your day or anything, but I like guys.”
“Oh.” The word came out in a little bubble of disappointment, oh. Of course he would be gay. All the sexy ones were.
Ben squeezed her hand. “But my best friend is straight and single, and if you think I’m hot, then, sister, he’s off the chart. I’m telling you, and you can believe me, because I know hot when I see it. He works with me, so he has a good job, steady income, and he’s an all-around great guy. I think you two would hit it off.”
Gently, Marianne pulled her hand out from under Ben’s. “Thanks for the offer, but I’m not really interested.”
Ben gave her a knowing wink. “Well, I’ll tell you what. I’ll send him by to pick up the car when it’s ready, and you can see for yourself if I’m right.”
* * * *
Turned out he was right. Johnny was Captain America to Ben’s Iron Man—tall and lithe, well-toned, handsome. Twinkling baby blue eyes that seemed almost depthless at times and careless blond hair that wouldn’t have looked out of place on a surfer. God, and his smile! If Ben’s was devilish then Johnny’s was the other side of the coin, innocent and angelic, complete with a dimple in his left cheek that she wanted to poke with her fingertip every time she saw it. A grin like that guaranteed him a free ride through life.
In the six months since they started dating, Marianne was already dangerously close to falling head over heels in love with Johnny. And, if she were being completely honest, with Ben, too. Because with one came the other. She learned early on the difference between going “on a date,” which meant just the two of them, and “going out,” which meant Ben would tag along. Funnily enough, she never felt like a third wheel when it was the three of them—Johnny still treated her the same way he did when Ben wasn’t around, but he didn’t limit his flirting with only her. And Ben flirted with both Marianne and Johnny. Evenings with both men made her feel sexy and special and loved, and many times she hated having to say goodbye to Ben at the door.
Did that make her a wanton woman, wanting to invite him in after the evening ended? Not instead of Johnny, but with him. Who said what the three of them had together couldn’t carry over into the bedroom?
But she wasn’t the type to suggest such a thing, and Ben had told her often enough that he liked guys. He was a natural flirt, and she tried not to take his attentions seriously. Many evenings when they were out, he would flirt with everyone, no exceptions—Johnny and herself, of course, but also the guy taking tickets at the movie theater, the waitress serving them dinner, the kid playing an overturned paint can like a bongo drum on the street corner…everyone. Ben was just that type of guy. And if he were straight, Marianne knew she would choose him over Johnny in a second.
But Johnny, God. That smile, those eyes, that hair! And his taut ass, his flat stomach, his thick cock. Just thinking of him between her thighs made her pussy ache. If only there were a way to have both men at once. Don’t be greedy, girl, she warned herself as she made the turn onto her darkened street. You’re lucky you have the one. Let Ben find the right guy and all of you can be happy.
Still, what would it be like to have both of them all to herself? The thought warmed her up from the inside out.
As she neared the end of her cul-de-sac, she saw two cars parked side-by-side in her driveway and slowed to a stop in front of her mailbox. The pickup truck was Johnny’s, but the other car she didn’t recognize. Then she noticed the small sticker on the rear bumper that indicated it was a rental from Ben’s company—of course. The man didn’t have a car of his own; he didn’t need one. He had a fleet of new cars to choose from, and she never saw him in the same vehicle twice. This was a dark sedan with tinted windows and Vermont license plates. Yes, definitely a rental. The car Marianne had driven during the week had Maine plates, and was now parked in the deck at her office, where Ben or Johnny would pick it up Monday morning.
It figured Ben would be over visiting Johnny, despite the late hour. Marianne had told her boyfriend when they last spoke that she’d be home but she didn’t know when. He had asked if she wanted him to make dinner for her, but she said no. They didn’t live together, at least not officially, but he spent more time at her house than he did his own, and he’d admitted that, while she was away, he’d slept over even though she wasn’t home. She didn’t mind—it meant the house wasn’t empty and, though she lived in a safe neighborhood, she liked the idea of coming home to him at the end of the long week. Plus he had told her he liked the way the bed sheets still smelled like her. “It makes me feel like you’re with me even though you’re not,” he’d said.
She’d melted a little at that. He could be so sweet.
While she would have liked to have parked in her own driveway, she would settle for leaving her car on the street for the moment, but she’d make Johnny move it after Ben left. She hoped he wouldn’t hang around too long. As she climbed out of the car, she felt the weariness in her legs and knew she would sleep well later. After Johnny showed her just how much he’d missed her, of course.
Walking around the front of her car, she stopped to check the mailbox—nothing inside but a handful of ads, which she shoved back in and left for later—then retrieved her suitcase from the back seat of the car. It was a small fabric case, stuffed to bulging, and a little heavy, actually, but she didn’t want to leave it outside because her makeup was in it and if she forgot to ask Johnny to bring it in when he moved her car, then her eyeliner or lipstick might melt before she remembered to retrieve it later. Not for the first time since leaving the house earlier in the week, she thought she should invest in a good, sturdy suitcase with wheels, but she managed to manhandle it up the walkway to the front porch without too much trouble. She thought of hollering for Johnny to come help, but it was late and she didn’t want to make too much noise. She could call him on her cell? Ask him to open the door? He would…
Or I can surprise him. He obviously doesn’t know I’m here.
True. The porch light was on, but the door was shut, the lights off in the foyer, so he wasn’t in the
front room waiting for her. Which meant he and Ben were most likely in the rec room downstairs, playing video games or watching TV, or hell, passed out on the sectional down there. Suddenly she wondered what the guys were up to without her around. What did they talk about by themselves? Her?
She felt a delicious chill run down her spine, but whether it was because she was being talked about or just hopeful anticipation, she didn’t know. As quietly as she could, she unlocked the front door and eased it open. The hallway beyond the door was dark; the living room, dark. As were the kitchen and the stairs leading to the bedrooms. The house was eerie, almost empty, but far away, she heard a thudding beat coming from the television in the renovated basement. So they were down there.
Pulling the suitcase in behind her, she shut the door and locked it, then turned off the porch light. At the hall closet door, she slipped off her dress shoes and breathed a sigh of relief as her bare feet splayed out flat on the plush carpet. “God, yes,” she moaned. Getting out of those tight shoes was almost a better release than sex.
On tiptoes, she moved towards the doorway under the stairs that led to the basement. From the front door she hadn’t been able to see the amber light down there, because there was a turn in the stairwell that obscured it. With one hand on the wall to guide her, she started down, moving carefully to sneak up on them. Each step amplified the sounds from the basement—the thudding beat resolved itself into cheesy music heavy on electric guitar, and the wah-wah pedal backbeat made her think instantly of 70’s porn films.
My God, no, she thought, stopping a few steps up from the turn that would put her in full view and alert the guys to her presence, are they watching a porno?
Then she heard breathy gasps, a rhythmic pounding that sounded like bedposts knocking against the wall, and she stifled a giggle. Seriously? Did anyone really watch these things anymore? She tried to conjure up an image of Johnny and Ben sitting side by side on the sofa and staring at the television with bored expressions on their faces as they watched people rutting on the screen in mock ecstasy and simply couldn’t do it.
She Said Yes! Page 1