Tell-Tale Hearts

by H A Blackwood

  Tell-Tale Hearts

  By

  HA Blackwood

  Baying Hound’s Dark Side

  USA

  Disclaimers and Copyright

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, locales, or events—no matter how sexy or erotic—is purely coincidental.

  This book is not suitable for an audience under the age of 18. It contains explicit sexual content, risky sexual behavior, dubious consent and strong language.

  This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited under penalty of law without the express written permission of the author or publisher.

  TELL-TALE HEARTS

  Copyright © 2019 by HA Blackwood

  All rights reserved.

  Published by Baying Hound’s Dark Side

  Edited by Amanda Blow

  ISBN: 978-0-9988282-6-8

  Thank you…

  For reading this literal invention of my subconscious mind. I had a dream one night – vivid, sexual, explicit – and when I woke up, I remember thinking “Whoa, that was intense!” I promptly fell back asleep and I had the exact. Same. Dream. Scene for scene, act for act, it was identical.

  When I awoke the second time, I took the hint my subconscious was clearly trying to deliver to me, and I made some notes. A month later, the first draft was done, and a month after that, the ebook was published.

  I appreciate you taking the time to read this tale. I must tell you; it was fun to write. I hope it turns you on as much reading it as it did me when I was writing it. In any case, it’s yours now. Enjoy!

  - HAB

  Contents

  Disclaimers and Copyright

  Gemma

  The Invitation

  Dinner

  Too Much Wine

  Forgetting Phillip

  More Wine!

  All the Way, and Then Some

  Completion

  The White Knight’s Lair

  Breakfast Date

  The Morning After, What a Pill!

  Video Replay

  Busted

  Re-Pete

  Super Tasty

  Home Depot

  Sharing The Same Brain

  Now We’re Even

  Resistance is Futile

  Best Of Both Worlds

  Get Your Motor Running

  Chasing Waterfalls

  Busted Again

  Let’s Be Naughty

  A Star Is Born. Again.

  Heart Returned

  About The Author

  Gemma

  I was halfway through a thirty-minute session on my treadmill when she walked over and got on one directly in front of mine. It couldn’t be a coincidence—it was the third time this week she’d picked a treadmill in my direct line of sight. I had a tendency, especially lately, to be attracted to other women, so it wasn’t surprising that she’d caught my eye. I just wasn’t sure, until now, if she was trying to get my attention. Thinking she might just have a favorite machine that happened to be in front of mine, today I grabbed one way down the line from my usual spot, and sure enough, here she was. Her choice of placement had to be intentional.

  Not that I minded. This woman was, in a word, hot. She wore tight running shorts and a sporty red top, cropped sleeves, tapered so her midriff showed just a hint as she ran. Her form was perfect. For grins, because I wasn’t following the episode of Judge Judy on the TV in front of me, I counted her strides for thirty seconds. Forty-five, meaning her strides-per-minute totaled ninety. Perfect.

  Her brown skin was a smooth cover over well-toned muscles. She looked like she was about five foot seven, and maybe one hundred twenty-five pounds, and had, at a guess, C-cup breasts. Probably 34C, maybe 36B. She had silky, jet black hair that fell between her shoulders, held in check by an elastic hair-tie so her ponytail bobbed back and forth as she ran.

  I leaned to one side to see what pace she had the treadmill set. She was running eight-minute miles—seven and a half miles per hour!—and had the countdown set for thirty minutes, though it was down to twenty-eight.

  So, I knew that she was purposely positioning herself in front of me, essentially forcing me to look at her wonderful ass while she ran. I just didn’t know why.

  My five-foot eight-inch frame and 36Cs weren’t anything to sneeze at, but I haven’t had a woman be so… deliberate about putting herself on display for me. I wondered what her intentions were. I mean, she could be trying to pick me up, obviously, and that would be flattering if I weren’t at the bottom of a deep emotional trough. I needed a “complicated doesn’t begin to describe it” relationship status on Facebook. So, I thought I knew what she might be up to, but I wasn’t going to make assumptions, especially after my last super passionate, but ill-advised affair crashed and burned. Clearly, the calibration on my judgment was off.

  My thirty minutes were up, and even though there were a ton of machines open, I don’t like to hog them for more than the requested time limit. If I needed to run for more than thirty minutes, I’d go outside and do it.

  The gym had squirt bottles filled with cleaning solution stashed every thirty feet around the massive room, so I grabbed one and wiped the treadmill down. God forbid someone might get near some of my sweat! As far as I was concerned, that was the most innocent of bodily fluids.

  As I walked to the free-weights area, I passed a heavyset man who was punishing another treadmill, his feet pounding on the tread, his breath coming hard and fast like a steam engine. I could see spittle blowing all over the console, and he was sweating like a cold glass of water on a hot, humid day. Maybe the spray bottles were a good idea, after all.

  Today was my arms and shoulders day, so I did a circuit of curls, shoulder presses, front and lateral raises, and tricep presses. When I finished, I walked over to the area designated for stretching. I liked to get everything loose, especially my hamstrings, after a good workout. I had just sat down and gotten comfortable when I saw the woman headed my way. Something about her seemed very familiar, but I could not place her face. I expected her to pass by and get a drink from the water fountain, but she stopped in front of me.

  Good god, she was pretty. She wore almost no makeup and was dewy with sweat, giving her a post-sex vibe. Her dark complexion matched her light brown eyes. I felt a familiar tingle as this brown-skinned goddess extended her right hand toward me.

  “Hi! I’m Gemma Amante.”

  I reached up and took her hand. I didn’t know if it was real or my imagination, but I felt a physical spark like she had walked across shag carpet instead of a rubber gym floor. I returned her smile. “I’m Darcy Ford.”

  She squatted down in front of me. “It’s good to meet you, Darcy. I’ve meant to introduce myself for a week now. I’ve seen you here at the same time as me, mostly on the same days. You have good running form.”

  I smiled. “Well, I can’t go seven-five for a half hour, but I get by.”

  A grin crept over her face. “So, you were checking out my settings?”

  I blushed, realizing I’d exposed myself. Now Gemma knew I was watching her with more than a casual interest. If we were playing a game, I decided to turn the focus back to her, so I played offense. “Well, you keep parking yourself on a treadmill right in front of me. It’s kind of hard not to notice you. Not for nothing, but you’re much more fun to watch than afternoon TV.”

  She sat down, the sly grin spreading wider across her face. “It was that obvious? You probably think I’m a creep or something.”

  “No, you’re…” I pau
sed. I almost said too much.

  “I’m what?”

  “Nothing.”

  She reached out and slapped my foot. “Tell me! You do think I’m a creep!”

  “No, you’re perfect. That’s what I was going to say, but I thought that would make me sound like a creep.” I aped a caveman’s speech pattern. “Me Darcy. See girl, say wrong thing. Scare away.”

  She laughed an easy laugh, heartfelt and honest. It made me want to laugh, too, so I did.

  “You’re sweet, thank you for saying that,” she said. “It makes all the working out worthwhile, even if it’s not true.”

  She was gracious and modest. I was starting to like her. “Well, I guess no one is perfect, but you’re awfully close.”

  “Well, you’re a fine specimen yourself, by the way. Hey, can you help me stretch? My hamstrings could really use it.”

  “You bet! I was just getting ready to work on mine when you came over.”

  She extended her legs, so her feet lined up with mine. Even though she was barely an inch shorter than me, she had to spread her legs wider. I must have a longer inseam than she did. She reached out, and I took her hands. They were soft, but she had a firm grip. I leaned back, pulling her down into a stretch that was sure to lengthen those troublesome hamstrings. After an eight-count, she sat up and leaned back, pulling me into a deep stretch. Truth be told, I could have lay nearly flat on the mat without trouble, but I let her lead me. I suspected the same was true for her.

  We repeated the stretch a couple of times then did our own post-run routines. When she stood up, I did too. I was trying to think of something appropriate to say, but she beat me to it.

  “Listen, I’ve only been here for a few weeks, and I don’t have any friends locally. I work from home, and my clients are all over the country, so it’s just me. I don’t know if you know what that’s like—you probably have a million people to do stuff with.”

  I immediately pictured the only people I knew in town. They had recently cut me, rather decisively, out of their lives. “Actually, I’m in almost the exact same situation. I had someone—but that’s over, and I’m flying solo too.”

  “Really? Well, I was wondering—would you like to hit the coffee place on the corner? I normally wouldn’t go there looking all sweaty and gross, but if we’re both basking in the post-workout glow, I won’t feel self-conscious.”

  She may have been sweating, but she was as far from gross as a person could get. “You know what? I would love that.”

  Ten minutes later, we found ourselves sitting opposite each other at a four-top table. I had a latte, and Gemma had the same, but with vanilla.

  “So, where did you move from?” I asked. “You seem really familiar, but I don’t think we’ve ever met. At least, I’m pretty sure I would remember you.”

  She smiled. “I must have one of those familiar faces. I moved from California. I lived here for a while, but it didn’t work out, so I went to the coast. I love the weather there, but the infrastructure is falling apart. I had to get out. Well that, and my money goes way farther here than out West! The cost of living was crazy, and I just couldn’t justify it anymore.”

  “When did you live here?”

  “It was like, nine or ten years ago.”

  “Wow! That’s about when I was here. I went to school here, and I did the same thing. Things got… messy for me, so right around ten years ago, I transferred to a different school for my last couple of years, out in San Diego. I bounced around a bit, got my consultancy set up, and once it was stable and I had a good set of clients, I moved back here.”

  Gemma took a sip of her vanilla latte while she studied me. “What do you do?”

  “I’m a technical writer. I take the instructions and stuff that engineers and product designers put together, and then I translate it all to English that normal people can understand. It’s pretty boring, but I enjoy it. You?”

  “Finance analyst. I work from home, and I do a lot in spreadsheets. It’s boring as hell—I bet more so than what you do—but I can set my own schedule most of the time. As long as my work gets done—and it’s accurate—they don’t care when or where I do it.”

  “Me too! The work is really droll, but I love the freedom it gives me. As long as I meet my deadlines, no one cares what I do.”

  A couple at a two-top in the corner caught Gemma’s attention. She nodded their direction. “Check it out,” she said.

  I looked, without trying to seem like I was looking. The couple was a pair of young girls—maybe seventeen or eighteen—holding hands and sharing a scone over their coffees. The blonde with her back in the corner broke off part of the scone and fed it to the other girl, who bit playfully at her fingers, sucking on them for a second before releasing them to their owner. They laughed, and then the dark-haired girl leaned in and kissed the blonde.

  “Good for them,” Gemma said. “I like to see people happy and unafraid of being who they are.”

  I thought about that for a second. I had problems with that concept when I was younger, maybe a year or two older than those two girls. In fact, it was still an issue sometimes. I didn’t exactly fit into a neat box. If Gemma knew me better, I’d think that was directed at me. “Yeah, it’s not always easy to be that free.”

  She picked up on the tone of my voice. “Speaking from experience?”

  “Yeah, sort of.”

  “Have you been with women before?”

  The question startled me. I was still unsure of Gemma’s motives. She said she was looking for a friend, but was she looking for more? And how would she know that I’d be receptive? She was really hot, and if she were a guy, I would be one hundred percent certain she was hitting on me. But women are… more complicated. I wasn’t getting a good read on her, so I deflected. Maybe it was my recent troubles, but my radar was signaling me to be wary. “It’s a really long story, and I’d prefer not to go into it. Not here. Not now.”

  Gemma could sense I was putting up a wall, so she changed the subject. “Can I see your phone?”

  I eyed her suspiciously. “What for?”

  “Just let me see it.”

  I reluctantly handed her my phone. She opened the text app, sent a message, and handed it back to me. I looked at what she wrote.

  This is Gemma texting herself from your phone. Now you have her number.

  “Why did you do that?” I asked.

  Gemma registered the alarm on my face. “What? I just wanted to exchange numbers.”

  “Why did you do it that way? Who put you up to this?”

  “Put me up to it? Darcy, no one did! I was just trying to be cute. I didn’t think you’d get mad. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you!”

  I softened my posture but was still a little freaked out. “Look, I don’t want you to think I’m crazy or anything, but I had an eerily similar exchange recently in my life, and things got out of control. It ended really badly. I’m still a little rattled by the whole thing.”

  “Part of that long story of yours?”

  “Yeah, kind of. Call it part two. Part one was ten years ago, so this has been a long time in the making. Listen, thanks for the coffee, but I need to be going.”

  She seemed like she wasn’t done questioning me, but she relented. Good thing, because I was done for the day. “Okay. It was good getting to know you a little bit, Darcy. I’ll see you at the gym?”

  I mumbled something like, “Yeah, see you around” and walked out. As I sat in my car, I watched her inside. She was finishing her latte alone, and I felt a little guilty. She said she was lonely and just wanted a friend, and I walked out on her. I had a hard time believing someone as gorgeous as she was lonely, but then again, I know I’m not ugly, and I was as alone as it gets. I’d wait to see what she did next before I passed judgment. We seemed quite similar to each other, and I didn’t mind the view.

  I backed out of my parking space and drove off before she saw me staring at her and decided that I was, indeed, a creep.
r />   The Invitation

  I skipped the gym the next day, choosing instead to run outdoors early, before work. It actually felt good. It was cool for a summer morning, so I was able to go out with a short-sleeved running shirt instead of a tank-top, and a pair of mid-length running shorts.

  While I was running, I kept thinking over the coffee shop incident. I knew I’d overreacted, but the tactic Gemma used to trade numbers was just too familiar and brought up too many conflicting emotions. I should have controlled my emotions better, but I’ve never had a poker face.

  And then her question about being with other women! She wasn’t incorrect in her assumption, but it was presumptuous of her to assume. Who asks that question when they’ve just met a person—especially when they have no clue if the person swings that way?

  Someone who can see you practically drooling over them. That’s who, I thought. Thanks, Brain. When I want your input, I’ll ask for it.

  But she said she was just looking for a friend. And sometimes, people do say what they actually mean. And why was I acting like a teenager about this whole thing?

  Because you ARE into her.

  I told my brain to shut up and finished my run. I decided that I would go to the gym the next day, and if Gemma were there, I’d ask her out for a drink.

  The next day I went to the gym at my regular time and scanned the massive room for Gemma but couldn’t find her. I was surprised at the feeling of disappointment. Maybe my brain was right, and I DID like her after all.

  I started out lifting weights. It was chest and back day, but I kept looking for Gemma. After fifteen minutes, I lost interest in the workout, and I went home.

  That night, I dreamed about her. It wasn’t a sexual dream, which I am prone to have, but just the two of us doing mundane things. I woke up, not remembering any details, but I felt happy. That was a welcome change.