by Nikki Sex
Paul was the complete opposite, and that made pleasing him even more amazing. His compliments, moans, grunts or shivers of ecstasy brought her into a euphoric high. Emily recalled his every caress, praise, approval or kind word he said. So strange. Who cared about a climax?
Emily cut off a giggle with that thought. Hadn’t she begged a number of times already? So not like her. She had to beg for him to fuck her, or to be allowed to touch him, with hand or mouth.
Paul was an amazing lover, he made her climax again and again. Emily had never done that before either. She was lucky if she had one orgasm during sex.
Yet it was Paul’s pleasure and release that was her driving force.
I just want to make him happy.
Such an unusual game to play. The game had no stated rules, no known barriers, no opponents and with just one prize: Paul’s cock – and whatever he wanted to do with it. She took a deep breath, and shut her eyes with a deluge of lust-filled memories.
If I’m good – very, very good, Paul will allow me his cock.
Emily shivered. Would she ever tire of that game? Her skin tingled, and her core pulsed. Just now, she wanted to play it again. My God, even fifteen hundred miles away from him, he still controlled her body’s responses. She hated that, because she couldn’t have what she needed most.
Him. Now. Always.
Emily drank her coffee, and absently ate her cereal, while looking at those pictures. She checked her email this morning, and had received two letters. One from Paul, to Candy, and one from Paul, to Emily.
Hell and damnation.
It made her want to pull her hair out and run screaming naked down the streets in frustration or desperation. Again. Her plan hadn’t worked. In fact, it made everything worse.
It was kind of like finding yourself out in the middle of a minefield, scared to take a step in any direction for fear of the consequences. What have I done? What was I thinking, and was it worth the risks?
Emily couldn’t take it back. The experience had been earth shattering.
It changed me. It changed how I feel about myself, and my world.
She couldn’t find it in herself to regret it even now. How could it be wrong when it felt so right? One wonderful night, to hold Paul, to be with him, to make love to him. All those years of reining it in, and for one night she had been able to freely adore him.
Emily was still in obsessive, over the top, stalker love with Paul – now more than ever. What the hell was she going to do? She opened her laptop, to view her email again. What a crazy and complex mess she’d gotten herself into.
Just how would she get herself out of it?
Chapter 17. Email
First Emily reread the email to herself from Paul:
From: Paul Jarman
To: Emily Malone
Subject: You are so patient
Hey Rabbit,
How the hell are you? Thanks for those last three newsy letters you sent. I’m a bastard for not writing sooner. I’ve left Mexico, and am back in the States now.
I hope all is well up there. Summertime at Devil’s Lake, that’s the best time of year. I miss that. I hope you’ve been getting some sun and not just wasting your summer by slaving away at my dad’s supermarket. He’s a slave driver, as you know, so don’t take his shit.
And no, I’m not going to get in touch with my father, so you can stop asking. Why doesn’t he contact me if he cares so much?
Did I tell you about my good friend, Jai? I hope that someday, you’ll get to meet him. Anyway, we’re both looking for work so we applied to Disneyland. I don’t care what work I’d do, although guarding Cinderella or Sleeping Beauty sounds like fun. If we get jobs there, you have to take time off and visit. I’ll pay your way.
You know I love you, Emily. You’re my most trusted childhood friend. To me that is more important than family. People don’t get to pick their family, but they get to choose their friends. Don’t get me wrong, I still love Reese. But he’s too busy enjoying himself at Colorado State to be bothered writing me.
Take care,
Paul
~~~
Emily couldn’t remember exactly when Paul started calling her rabbit. She knew it was when she was a child, not long after she almost drowned. She certainly would have drowned, if it hadn’t been for Paul. My hero, she mused romantically, then, with a more lustful note, she thought, and the best lover in the whole wide world.
Paul had written a postscript:
P.S. I met an amazing girl named Candy. Can you believe it? I can almost hear you laughing. I thought you’d find that funny! I really like her. I think you’d like her, too.
~~~
Emily’s whole body heated. In her short sleeved dress, she watched as she flushed red. Jesus. Excitement coursed over her, as well as embarrassment and shame. “I really like her.” Shit. She was lovesick. But she had tricked Paul. How would he ever forgive her, if he found out?
Emily wrote a long newsy letter back to him, completely ignoring the Candy comment.
The second email from Paul was addressed to Candy, at Candy’s Hotmail address:
From: Paul Jarman
To: Candy
Subject: Where are you?
Beautiful girl,
It’s been six days since I’ve seen you. Do you miss me? I miss you very much. You told me that you thought I was a player, someone who never stayed with a specific woman. Well, you were right. As I said before, I intend to make an exception for you.
Maybe it was fate that brought us together. Do you believe in fate? I’d like to think that we were meant to find each other.
So, when are you coming back? I found the perfect club for us to visit when you come to LA. It’s very discreet. I want you to know that you’re safe with me. Did you see your doctor, and get your blood work done? The admission requirements to this club are pretty arduous. It’s a pain, but it’s very important to be safe. Besides, once your blood is tested and you’re on the pill, or have an IUD or something, then we won’t need to use a condom.
If you’re very good, I’ll let you take advantage of that.
Lucky for Jai and me, our old club manager in San Francisco expedited everything for us. I doubt you’ll enjoy filling out the paperwork, but I’ll help.
Candy, I don’t understand this connection we have. Is it lust? Love? Both? Something else? We need to explore our chemistry, this inexplicable bond.
I’ve never felt this with any other woman. Never. Ever.
You and I both know that we need to spend time together. Quit your job, we’ll figure it out. How does the poem go? “Come with me, and be my love.” Quite honestly, I don’t really believe in ‘love.’ I never have. You can’t possibly know this, but for me to bring up the ‘L’ word at all is a really big deal.
Jai thinks I’ve lost my mind.
All I know for certain is that I want you. I want to hear you laugh. I love the way you make me laugh. I need to have you beneath me, under my body, and in my hands. I want to touch you and taste you. I need to be inside of you again.
You know that I’ll reward you.
I won’t take no for an answer. I’ll give you two weeks. If you don’t come to me, I’ll fly up there and find you myself.
You know that I will.
Paul
~~~
Jeez. Those simple statements like “I want you,” and “I need you beneath me” not to mention “inside you again.” Whew. Emily had been attracted to Paul for as long as she could remember, but that was before she had any idea of their legendary sexual chemistry.
And, oh my God! He actually used the word ‘love.’ Paul! About her! Okay, the email was written to Candy. But the reality of this was way beyond her hopes. Emily was totally blown away. To think that Paul could return her love, her romantic love. Wow. It was inconceivable.
All of Emily’s plotting, scheming and deception had brought her to this point. Ironic, that what brought them together, could be the very thing that would tea
r them apart forever.
After thinking about it, Emily replied to Paul’s letter, hoping to put him off. She needed more time; time to figure out a strategy.
From: Candy
To: Paul Jarman
Subject: You’ll never find me
Hey handsome,
Yes, I had my blood work done, and I passed with flying colors, as expected. Your wish is my command, oh high and mighty one; or low and bossy one; or sexy, despotic kinkster. Whatever. You’ll be pleased to know that I’m also now on the pill.
Rewards, huh? Well, I can think of a few! Can I go down on you for real now? Can I use my hands? I want to touch every inch. With my tongue!
I’m willing to fly down there, visit you and go to the club you mentioned, but I have reservations. RED! RED! RED! (I’ve been reading up on BDSM, can you tell?) Honestly, Paul, I’m not a pain person and I don’t see how this could work for us.
As long as we’re talking about limits, I don’t want to call you ‘Sir,’ or ‘Master’ either. Sorry! I like your name. Paul. Yum! It’s a tough, masculine, sexy name that’s easy to call out when… well, you know.
To answer your question, yes, I miss you. I think of you every day. But I’m not sure, is that a good thing? Yes, we hit it off, but you don’t know much about me. I can’t believe you brought up the ‘L’ word! One of my BIG secrets is that I was already thinking the ‘L’ word about you.
For your information this is perfectly acceptable as 1) I’m a woman and women believe in love 2) I read romance novels and dream of happily ever afters, so I’m allowed.
Paul, if you knew certain things about me, I suspect that you’d hate me. You may never want to speak to me again.
Maybe we should just end this now. Quit while were ahead, as they say. We had a really amazing time together… that’s more than a lot of people get.
Love Struck OXOX
PS: Eugene, Oregon is a BIG place. You’ll never find me. You don’t even know my last name.
~~~
She signed herself ‘Love struck’ to frighten him off. That was bound to work. At least there was no way that Paul could find her, so that was something. It gave her a small sense of security, and made her feel more in control of a situation that seemed to be spiraling out of control.
She told him that she would come down to LA, but it made her wonder. Could she actually go? Could she spend another night with him? It would take a lot of planning.
She wanted to see Paul again. She wanted to sleep with him again! For one clear moment, Emily envisioned how angry he’d be if he knew his little rabbit had tricked him. With a sudden nervous stomach, she didn’t feel like eating anymore.
Finishing her coffee, Emily went to close her laptop, but saw a message. She had new mail. Her pulse spiked when she saw that it was from Paul. That was fast.
From: Paul Jarman
To: Candy
Subject: You can run, but you can’t hide
Candy,
1. Well done on taking care of the blood work and birth control.
2. I’m considering multiple rewards.
3. I agree. ‘Sir’ or ‘Master’ won’t work. You may call me Paul.
4. I’m going to find out every secret you have. I promise not to hate you.
5. I’ve no experience with the ‘L’ word, but I’m open minded.
6. I won’t look for you in Eugene, Oregon (it is TOO BIG a place.) You flew Southwest Airlines on direct flight, number 323. You flew on a 737, with 157 seats. Half of those will be male passengers, and not all seats will be full. Trust me. I will find you, if I must.
7. If I were you, I wouldn’t make me find you.
Paul
~~~
Oh crap! Emily had forgotten just how determined a man Paul was. She didn’t know how, but she had no doubt that he could get a passenger list. If he did, he wouldn’t find Candy. He would, however, recognize her name and put it all together.
One half of her jumped with joy and happiness at the thought that Paul may be in love with her. The other half just worried. She had two weeks to figure this out. How was this all going to end? Not well! So not well. Shit, shit, shit!!! What the hell was she going to do?
Being a practical woman, Emily closed her laptop and stood up. She decided to simply go to work and think about it later. “Bye, mom,” she yelled. “You have a nice day.”
I’ll try to have a nice day, too. And maybe I’ll figure out how to fix this thing with Paul.
Chapter 18. Friday
There was a heaviness in the air, when Emily went outside. Dark thunderclouds were sweeping in from the northwest. Hopefully, it wouldn’t still be raining when she drove to Portland later tonight.
Despite everything that was going on in her world, Emily didn’t brood as she drove to work. She was actually excited because tonight she was going back to the club.
The Basement, was a fetish club in Portland. The manager, Colin, was a really nice guy. He had given her a two-week provisional membership. Emily had only been there once, and had stayed up in the sub gallery, just watching.
All of the other subs she’d met were really nice, both male and female. Still, the whole concept kind of freaked her out. Colin had made arrangements for tonight, for her to be with a man named André Chevalier. He was a highly respected and recommended Dom, and only here for the weekend.
That suited her. She didn’t want anyone except Paul, anyway.
Talk about layers upon layers of a mind-melting mind fuck. Paul was in love with Candy. But Emily was in love with him. He’d be furious if he knew that she and Candy were the same person. Paul hated liars, and would never want to see her again. On top of all that, he wanted to whip, and spank her, and tie her up.
Well, being tied up by Paul didn’t sound too bad. But pain? Yikes! The thought of accepting pain for pleasure sounded nuts. The idea of it terrified and humiliated her. What kind of a person wanted pain? Hopefully this André guy could help her make some sense of it.
Emails to Paul as ‘Candy’ were answered within hours and sometimes almost instantly. ‘Candy’ had been confiding in various things, and they chatted daily on almost every subject. Sex and kink were the big ones. As well as sexual positions they liked, or wanted to try. What they enjoyed giving. What they enjoyed getting.
The detail in these emails were ridiculous. Communicating this way freed her to be completely honest. If she blushed while typing, well at least he never saw it. Climax-worthy reading material, for sure.
The ‘L’ word came up pretty regularly in their email chats. Philosophical discussions about what love was, and what it wasn’t. Candy left the name ‘Candy’ off from her letters, mainly because it wasn’t her name. Instead she signed crazy things like: “Love, that hot chick from Cabo” or “Love, the possible object of your ‘L’ word,” or “Love, your willing email sex slave.”
Emily’s world had turned upside down. So much had changed in just a matter of days. She learned things about herself and Paul, the object of her obsession. Things she’d never guess. On top of all this new drama in her life, there was her mother, her very depressed mother. Not to mention Paul’s father.
Somehow over the years, Emily had become a ‘stand in’ child for Tom, Paul’s dad. Tom was an irritable man, an unhappy loner who rarely talked to anyone. Emily felt sorry for him. In his way, Tom loved her and treated her like the daughter he never had. Emily was his second-in-charge, and virtually ran the grocery store for him.
When the shit first hit the fan, she’d been disappointed and sad to have to leave college. Her mom was suicidal, and her dad was gone. Emily had been working toward a degree in communications, but she had no real idea of what she wanted to be ‘when she grew up.’ College was exciting and fun, but she’d only just gotten started when she had to defer in order to take care of her mom.
There were a few weeks when she cried at night, unhappy at the way things had turned out. Particularly, as all her girlfriends were away at school and she could
only talk to them on the phone. But as always, she had to remain cheerful and upbeat for her mother.
That was when Emily discovered that ‘Life’ and ‘Fair’ were two words that just didn’t belong in a sentence together – unless the word ‘Not’ was in there, too.
Eventually, she’d gotten past the self-pity, probably because she loved her new job. It was deeply satisfying to help Paul’s dad, and it had been surprising to discover that she was actually good at running the store.
Emily pulled into the supermarket parking lot, said “Hello” to a couple of co-workers who arrived at the same time for their shift.
Her work day went fast. It was pretty normal for a Friday: organizing a representative to decorate the end of a main aisle, and negotiating with two other sales reps for the best price on stock quantity buy-ins. The staff worked well for her. They probably did so because they were afraid of Tom, the grumpy boss. Still, she considered them friends and associates, and appreciated that they worked hard and delivered a good service to their customers.
Emily found satisfaction in getting the details right. While life wasn’t perfect, she was happy to have a place in the world. To know that she was good at something that she actually enjoyed.
She stopped in to see her boss, before she left. “Hey,” she said. “I’m off. Do you need anything before I go?”
Tom Jarman was sitting behind his desk, as always, looking at a computer screen displaying ‘Profit and Loss.’ There was the heavy smell of cigarettes in the room. While Emily managed the store virtually independently, he organized long term planning, figured out suppliers, and payroll. Tom looked up as she spoke, a faint smile on his face.
He was about 5’10”, balding, with reddish hair and a mustache. For the hundredth time, Emily tried to see Paul in him, but couldn’t. Tom bragged that he had Scottish blood and that was why he was so good with his money. Tight-fisted was more like it, and it was a strange thing to be proud of. Besides, she knew other families with a Scottish heritage, and they weren’t stingy at all.
Emily didn’t understand why Tom was so distant and unemotional, but she’d always liked him anyway. One thing she knew was that all that unapproachable grumpiness was a big act. Tom was a teddy bear deep down. If only she could only get him and his son to reconcile. Sadly they both had stubbornness as a trait in common.