(18 ONLY) The Book Club

The Book Club (18+ Only) [COM...
The Book Club (18+ Only): Disclaimer [The Book Club (18+ Only) [COM...]
© KIMBER LEE 2012 THE BOOK CLUB
All Rights Reserved
Author’s Note & Disclaimer
************************
This is a sneak peek (and, because I’m lazy, the summary) into my NEXT short
erotica, “The Book Club”. Since loads of people enjoyed “The Handyman”, I’ve
decided to upload a new short story for you to enjoy. Like “The Handyman”, this
one’ll be ten chapters as well.
Again, please DON’T read if you’re under 18 (although I personally don’t mind; I’m
just following Wattpad guidelines).
Chapter 1 will be up tomorrow (or today), depending on your time zone. The final
chapter of “The Handyman” will also be up tomorrow. Kinda sad to be saying goodbye
to those characters but oh well. Thank you guys for the support!
xoxo,
Nickel
SNEAK-PEAK ;)
*************

“We only read erotica,” Fiona said
with a straight face.
“Come again?” I asked, clutching my copy of Jane Eyre to my chest. I suddenly felt
like a girl who’d come to a fancy-dress party dressed as herself.
“Oh, come on, Janelle,” Fiona smiled, pulling my hand and leading me into the
reading room of the library.
Oh f*ck, Janelle, what are you even doing here this is weird this woman’s weird and
she smells of oranges f*ck f*ck I am going to stab Erin!
The light in the library was dimmed to a dull glow. Fiona still had my hand in hers
in a vice grip.
You will never be able to finger yourself with these digits, thanks to this woman.
“Relax, Janelle,” Fiona murmured, releasing me. “Erin said you were a bit uptight
and now I can see what she meant.”
“She said what?” I suddenly thought of many ways to kill my best friend. Rat
poison… Superglue down her throat…
“We get a lot of uptight people here. Take a seat.”
What’s that supposed to mean? Maybe I’ve stumbled into a cult. Or worse – a coven.
I slowly sat down on one of the wooden chairs, setting my Bronte book on my lap.
Whatever was going on here, I was puzzled as hell and Erin Thomas was certainly
going to regret the day she’d crawled out of her mother’s vagina.
And then I heard a man’s voice reading aloud: “I entered her from behind, squeezing
the taut skin of her buttocks and driving myself even deeper, until…”
I completely blanked out after that part, but it was then that I noticed the other
sounds in the library; sounds that weren’t normally associated with a library.
Somewhere in the dark, I heard moans of pleasure and the unmistakable yowl of a
climax…
1: In Which She Finds That Three is a Crowd [The Book Club (18+ Only)
[COM...]

 1: In Which She Finds That Three
is a Crowd

**********************************

The funny thing about men, I
thought wryly, as David climaxed inside me, is that they all think they’re the
shit.

David probably thought he was
giving me the best sex of my life, when really, I might as well have been sexing a
male blow-up toy (if they even sold those). He really was delusional. Hot, yes, but
delusional.

“Was that good for you?” he asked,
breathing his hot breath into my neck.

“It was…fine,” I replied, gently
trying to pry him off me. Doesn’t he know that if a guy has to ask that, he’s doing
something wrong?

“Fine?” he asked, pulling out.
“Should we go again? Fine is a…six out of ten, Janelle. A fúcking six!”

“If you’re lucky,” I said
sarcastically, pulling myself up and standing. “I need to take a bath now and you
need to leave.”

He looked up at me, shocked.
“Seriously? We just finished and you’re kicking me out?”

“What do you want? Dinner?”

“Well, now that you mention it –”

“There’s a McDonald’s just down the
road. Knock yourself out.” I snapped my fingers in his face. “Out. Now.”

“You’re such a bitch,” he mumbled,
getting out of my bed.

“And you have a small penís. Beat
it, David.”

He pulled his pants on, not even
bothering to remove the condom, muttering to himself. I shook my head, grabbing my
bathrobe off the floor and shrugging it on.

“You have issues,” David told me
when he was done. He pushed past me, slamming my bedroom door behind him.

How many times had I heard men say
that? ‘You have issues, Janelle’… ‘Seek help, Janelle’… I was used to that line.
Maybe it was true. Maybe I needed Dr. Oz to take a look at my pússy and tell me why
I didn’t have orgasms. There had to be a medical term for it.

Still, sleeping with David from
work was probably a bad idea, I chastised myself, heading to the bathroom and
running a bath. I desperately needed to wash the smell of desperation off me.

The only reason I’d brought David
Fuentes home was because everyone at the office went on and on about what a big
díck he had. Unfortunately, as I discovered, the only big thing about David was his
ego. The man had a head bigger than Kanye’s and nothing to back it up. To say I was
disappointed would’ve been an understatement. I was devastated. In fact, I’d wanted
to cry when he’d produced his díck and gone, “Do you want this steel rod, baby?”

More like iron needle.

The women in my office needed an
education in sizes...

Immersing myself in the hot water,
I blew a few bubbles just for old times’ sake. Doing that always transported me
back to my childhood, when everything was so much simpler and I didn’t have to
worry about my girly parts.

A knock at my bathroom door brought
my head up out the water. A smile played across my face.

“Come in.”

“So…who was that?” Prince asked,
his voice playful. He took a drag out of his cigarette.

“None of your beeswax,” I replied
childishly, motioning for him to pass his Stuyvesant to me.

“Nope. Come on, Jan. We tell each
other everything.” He dangled the cigarette above my head. “I know you want this.”

“Fine. He’s a colleague of mine.
Just another stupid idiot I stupidly brought home.”

“What did I tell you, sweetheart?”
Prince said sweetly, getting on his knees beside the bathtub, his chocolate-brown
eyes flashing. “No one can fúck you like I do.” He handed me my dose of late-night
nicotine, the only dose I allowed myself.

I laughed. “Oh please, Elton John.”

“Don’t.”

“How about you take a bath, then?”
I drawled, taking a long drag. “You look a little…dirty.” Flicking ash onto the top
of his head, I felt the familiar tug in my belly whenever I thought of my roommate
Prince Matthews’ extremely large c0ck inside of me.

“Naughty, naughty Janelle,” he
whispered, running his hands through the thick mass of coal-black curls of his
head. Since it was getting late, he’d changed into his PJs – which consisted of
boxer shorts and nothing else.

“Come in here and satisfy me,” I
murmured, leaning back as he casually stepped into the now lukewarm water.

“Do you want this steel rod?” he
said with a straight face, looking down at me.

I spluttered with laughter,
splashing him with water. “Were you eavesdropping, you prick?”

“Oh please,” Prince laughed,
getting down opposite me. “How cheesy was that guy? I bet he thought he was in some
kind of porno.”

“Sadly.” I spread my legs wide
enough for him to fit between them. “Now come on. Get busy.”

“I feel used.” He punctuated his
sentence by lazily grazing his big toe against my opening. “You know what I was
busy doing the whole of tonight?”

“Enlighten me,” I said, gasping
when his toe drove in a little further.

“Jerking off to some porn my cousin
forgot over here. My Friday nights just keep getting better and better.”

“Why are you still single?” I
asked, more to myself than to him.

“Because I’m a dickhead, my sexy
sidekick.” Prince increased the pressure on my clít, until I was positively
throbbing. He retracted his toe, pulling off his boxers. “And I’m not sure what the
hell I want in life.” He kicked them off. “Now come here, babe,” he commanded.

I obliged, already more than wet
for his c0ck. Prince was by far the biggest I’d seen. He made David look like a
three-day old baby. I always shivered in anticipation whenever we fúcked – which
was almost every weekend, if neither of us was seeing someone.

“Oh, shít,” I breathed, positioning
myself on top of him. He was already stiff, probably from his masturbating session.
“Did you come…during your little session tonight?”

“No,” he confirmed, gripping my
waist. “I saved it for you.” Thrusting upwards, he hit my centre. I gave out a
cross between a yelp and a moan, my hands on his shoulders.

“Do that thing you do, Janelle,”
Prince groaned, increasing the tempo.

I smiled, leaning forward and
biting his earlobe, soothing it with my tongue. “Ay, papi… Ay, papi… Fúck me
harder! Rip me apart!” Prince’s sensitive spot was his earlobes, plus he was a
sucker for accents. At that moment, I tensed around his c0ck, yowling with
pleasure. Prince almost filled me up completely.

“You want it harder, babe?” he
growled, pinching my arse. “Tell me how you like it.”

“Mais oui, papa! Je l’adore!”

“Oh, you love it, huh?” Prince
savagely took one of my nipples in his mouth, tweaking it with that tongue of his.
They were already hard and extremely sensitive to begin with, so his sucking on
them just sent me over the edge.

Arching my back, I experienced an
exhilarating 0rgasm, screaming in French, Spanish and even Swahili. Prince exploded
inside me a minute later, triggering another climax, although smaller. He knew how
his orgasms always prompted mine, how the feel of his hot cum spurting inside me
made me feel hot. He held me fast as he continued to empty his load inside me.

Panting, we held onto each other,
shivering slightly, whether from the séx or from the now icy-cold bath water.

“So much better than porn,” Prince
breathed in my chest. “So much better.”

I giggled, only half satisfied.



***



“I feel so sorry for you, Janelle
Jones,” Erin muttered, shaking her head in disappointment before giving me a look
to further convey that.

“Oh, shut the hell up.” I set my
sunglasses on the top of my head. “Can we please get into work mode?”

Erin grabbed her equipment from the
backseat of my car and strung her Canon around her neck. “Forgive me for finding
this little arrangement between you and Prince a little odd.” Slamming the door
shut, she turned to face me, looking ever-so-serious. “Get your life in order,
missy. Find a boyfriend – one who knows if he likes the chicken or the c0ck.”

I rolled my eyes. “For the last
time, Oprah – I’m perfectly fine with the way things are. I don’t need a serious
relationship. I’m quite fine being a nympho.”

“Uh-huh. And fúcking your sexually
confused – sorry, bisexual – roommate on the regular is how perfectly fine things
are?”

“Erin, please. Shut it,” I hissed
as we entered the pristine office building of Baxter Publishing House. “We’re here
to do one stupid interview and then maybe we can discuss my séx life, OK?”

“Fair enough. I still don’t get why
we need pictures of this guy,” Erin muttered, fingering her camera. “It’s not like
anybody cares what the CEO of a bloody boring publishing house looks like.”

I laughed, quietening down when we
approached the large, kidney-shaped reception desk.

“Can I help you?” the redhead
behind the desk asked us brightly.

“We’re with the Daily Herald. We’re
here to interview Mr. Baxter. Two o’clock?” I said, as confidently as I possibly
could. I was already feeling out of place in my casual denim skirt and cotton
blouse.

“Oh, yes,” Red said to herself,
scanning through Baxter’s daily planner, most probably. “Jane Jones and Erin
Thomas?”

“Janelle,” I corrected.

“Oh, right. Exotic. Go right
through, ladies. And please try not to offend him too much?”

I raised a puzzled brow. “Of
course.”

Erin scoffed. “Offend him? Who is
he, Prince Albert?”

Gabriel Baxter was completely naked
when we entered his office.

Completely naked.

In his birthday suit.

As bare as the day he was born.

I heard Erin gasp beside me and
could picture what was going on in her little head. She was a perve, this best
friend of mine. She put me to shame.

“Take a seat,” Gabriel ordered,
gesturing at the two large black armchairs before his impressive mahogany desk.

I swallowed, remaining frozen in
front of the closed door. “Why…why are you naked?”

“Why are you clothed?” he
countered, still seated.

From what I could see, Gabriel
Baxter was marginally attractive. He had the rugged face of a drunkard and a
wastrel – cropped black hair, forest-green eyes, a broken nose, five-o’clock shadow
– and the broad chest of a wrestler. Even seated, he looked to be over six feet.

“We’re…we’re from the paper,” Erin
stuttered, making the brave move to head across the office and sit in front of Mr.
Nude-is-Not-Lewd.

“I know.”

“You weren’t…expecting us?”

“I was.”

Could this get any stranger? I
asked myself, staring at the two of them.

“It has always been my fantasy to
have a threesome in this very office,” Gabriel said airily, fixing his intense eyes
on Erin. His voice was slightly accented; I remembered my editor mentioning
something about a French mother who was an erotica writer.

“Threesome?” Erin spluttered
incredulously.

“Mr. Baxter, forgive me, but we’re
here to interview you about one of your editors-in-chief taking money from
desperate wannabe writers,” I said candidly, remaining frozen to my spot by the
door. “We’re not here to live out some sick fantasy you’ve conjured up in your
head.”

Gabriel stood up, which was a big
mistake – because now his hard-on was on exhibition. “Sick fantasy?”

Erin looked positively transfixed
by what was smack-bam in front of her. And shít, Baxter was hung. I tried to look
elsewhere. And failed.

“This could be fun,” Erin spoke up.

“What?” I spat.

She twisted in her seat to look at
me. “Sex in an office? Come on, Jan – how often does that happen? Besides, he’s
hot.”

“You’re crazy. This is public
indecency!”

Gabriel smirked at me. “Public?
We’re in my office. There’s nothing more private than this.” His eyes went back to
Erin. “Take that dress off, sweetheart. It looks constricting.”

My jaw dropped when she first set
her camera on the desk, then began pulling off one strap of her little black dress.

“Erin! Have you completely lost
your mind?” I exclaimed, rooted to the spot in disbelief. “We’re supposed to be
working!”

She glanced over her shoulder.
“Live a little, honey.” Standing to her feet, she went around Gabriel’s large desk
and tugged her dress over her head in one pull.

Gabriel’s arms snaked around her
waist. “You are exquisite, my dear,” he murmured, and crashed his lips against
hers. Whatever he was doing with his mouth made Erin let out a little mew of
pleasure. I was going to be sick.

“All right, this is what we’ll do,”
Baxter said to me after he’d removed his lips from Erin’s. “Get your Dictaphone out
and ask me whatever you want.” He paused when Erin tried to wrap her hand around
his thick c0ck. “I’ll answer what I want to, okay? This is a very sensitive matter.
I just want to clear the name of my publishing house as a whole. Grab that condom,
honey.”

“I…I can’t believe this,” I
whispered.

Minutes later, Gabriel Baxter was
buried inside my best friend on his desk.

I couldn’t beat them. I couldn’t
join them. So I grabbed my Dictaphone. By question four, I was getting used to the
live porno before my eyes. It didn’t exactly faze me.

“Just to clarify, Mr. Baxter, how
long had Mr. Saunders been with your company?”

“Maybe…a little…over four years,”
Gabriel replied between thrusts, pumping into Erin ferociously. So ferociously that
his desk bopped with the movement. Erin was moaning loudly, so he covered her mouth
with one large paw, stifling the noise.

I stopped to let them finish,
unable to keep my eyes off them. This was surreal.

And the saddest part was that my
panties were wet.



2: In Which She Visits a Paradise [The Book Club (18+ Only) [COM...]

2: In Which She Visits a Paradise

***********************************

“Have you ever wanted to experience
a fantasy so wild, so crazy that your vagina burst at the seams?” Erin asked,
casually channel-surfing and sipping a glass of lemonade.

I looked up from my Heat. All I’d
manage to catch was the v-word. “Excuse me?”

“I’m just thinking out loud here,”
Erin said innocently.

I shook my head ruefully. If
someone met Erin Thomas for the first time, they’d think she was exactly as she
looked – her big, wide blue eyes made her seem childlike; her small, sixteen-year-
old frame added to her childlike appearance, plus she was a jeans-and-T-shirt girl.
She seemed like the typical girl-next-door stereotype, with her Canon slung around
her neck and those big bug eyes.

But that was all just a cover for
the freak inside her.

Erin and I had met in college – she
was studying photography and I was majoring in media. We were thrown together as
roommates. There I was, foolishly thinking that I had been paired up with an
intellectual such as myself – until one Saturday night when she’d picked up two
guys from the college rec room and proceeded to have a wild threesome in the bed
beside me while I tried to sleep, plugging Eminem into my ears. From then on, Erin
had steady boyfriends that were just as wild as she, but still adored her for who
she was. She was fickle and free-spirited and was probably the happiest person I
knew.

“Do you know where I met Harry?”
Erin asked suddenly, sitting up a little straighter in the couch.

“No, but I bet you’re gonna tell
me,” I mumbled, thinking of one of her boyfriends from the year before, a sexy
paramedic that bore a strong resemblance to Adam Levine.

“The library, Janelle. The
library.”

“How romantic,” I said
sarcastically.

“Hey, you should go!” Erin was
suddenly excited, bouncing up and down on my sofa, threatening to break it.

“I’m reading right now.” I held up
my magazine.

“There’s a reading club that meets
every Friday evening. You should go. It could be good for you.”

“Is that so?”

“It’s a great way to meet new
people.”

I closed the magazine, looking at
her. “I have enough friends, thank you very much. I don’t need to go to the library
to meet people like some sad, lonely person, Erin. Besides, Friday is club night.”

“You don’t go to the club anymore.
You either stay home with Prince exploring each other’s bodies, or you bring a
colleague home to screw.”

“How…how’d you know?” I asked,
referring to David Fuentes.

“David’s been blabbing to everyone
at the paper. He says you just lay there like a log.”
“What?”

Erin shook her head. “Bad idea
fúcking him. Yes, the guy’s sexy – but he’s a prick. You should’ve run this by me.”

I groaned loudly. “I’m going to cut
his nut sack off and mail it to his grandmother.”

“Whose nut sack?” Prince’s voice
sang from the hallway.

“Stop eavesdropping, Sherlock!” I
called back over my shoulder.

“Does he know what he likes yet?”
Erin asked curiously, nodding in the direction of Prince’s voice.

“That’s his business. Or do you
fancy the guy?”

“Oh please, Jan. I like my men very
heterosexual, thank you very much.” She paused. “So will you go? To the library?”

“If it’s so awesome, why don’t you
go?” I grumbled, annoyed.

“Because I went last year,” she
said cryptically.

I shook my head. “So the public
library has become a place to pick up guys? Do all the eligible bachelors converge
there with their library cards in hand?”

“You’re so stubborn.” Erin punched
my shoulder lightly, laughing. “Look, reading is relaxing. You need to relax. After
the Baxter incident…”

I reddened, instantly going back to
that fateful day. I had to admit, watching Erin and that weirdo getting it on was a
turn-on. I was never one for kinky porn – the kinkiest I got was sex in the bathtub
after all – but observing an actual twosome getting it on in front of me was…well,
it was hot.

“Reading as a group can be fun,
especially if the book is…interesting,” Erin pointed out. “I don’t know why I’ve
never referred you to the library,” she said to herself, smacking her forehead.

“Do they have snacks?”

“Oh yes, plenty.”

“Fine then. I’m in. Just find out
what they’re reading for me?”

“Of course, honey. I promise you
won’t regret it.”



*



The last time I’d stepped into the
Bradley Kingston Public Library, I was a fifteen-year-old teen who’d just
discovered Mills & Boon books. I remember the face on the librarian when I’d pushed
across her desk what I’d neatly written on a scrap of paper: Where are the sexy
books?

She’d been fifty-something, with
the face of a thoroughbred, and had promptly squashed up my note and told me to go
read Revelations.

Now, as Erin had told me, my
library card was in dire need of a renewal.

I took my shades off and pushed
open the large glass door, breathing in the smell of old books and scented candles.
The place was extremely stuffy and after five seconds, I couldn’t stand the smell
of those idiotic candles. Wasn’t that a health hazard, candles and paper?

“Hi, how may I help you?” the
librarian asked cheerfully. Her name tag told me that she was Cindy, and her hair
told me that she was a forty-something trying to be a twenty-something blonde.

“Hi. I just need my card renewed,”
I replied, digging into my tote bag and removing my purse. I took out the half-
laminated, half-stained-with-god-knows-what scrap and handed it to Cindy.

She gingerly accepted it. “Um…when
was the last time you used this?”

“Maybe a decade ago.” I shrugged.
“I’m too busy for guilty pleasures.”

“The library is a paradise,
darling,” Cindy said brightly, her eyes on her computer screen. “Every book is a
rocket ship, ready to take you to another world.”

Oh, shut the fúck up, I thought
irritably.

“I’m fine with this world, thanks.”

“I’ll just need six minutes to make
your new card, hon,” Cindy told me. “Feel free to browse, though. By the time you
find something to take out, I’ll be done.”

“OK.”

I stalked off, muttering to myself.
Spending a Friday afternoon after work in a library wasn’t my idea of fun. Don’t
get me wrong: I love reading as much as the next person but I had a life.
Sometimes.

“Carrie is a classic – and they
don’t have it,” someone muttered on the opposite side of the shelf I was casually
scanning for god-knows-what.

“The shock,” I muttered, pulling
out a Sophie Kinsella novel and thumbing through the first few pages.

“It’s an atrocity.”

“A disgrace.”

“You’re being sarcastic.”

“How perceptive of you.”

“A romance novel. How did I guess?”

The man was suddenly standing at my
right elbow, checking the back of my book. I took a step away from him.

“What are you doing?” I asked in a
strangled voice.

He quirked an eyebrow, looking down
at me. “Relax. I’m not attacking you or anything, am I?”

“Go back to finding that book.” I
was strangely shaken by his blonde-hair-blue-eyed stereotypical boy-next-door look.
Hell, he was even in a T-shirt and jeans. Who did I know besides Prince that still
wore band Tees?

“I think I’ve found something
better,” he said gently, bracing himself with one hand on the shelf. “Are you
joining the book club?”

What is it with this book club? I
thought in shock. You’d think they’re offering money to members!

“Not this Friday. Maybe the next
one.” I shivered under his scrutiny. His stare was unblinking. “What are you
reading?” I asked quickly.

“Why don’t you stay for tonight’s
meeting?” he asked, ignoring my question. He reached out and brushed a strand of
hair out of my face, his blue eyes sparkling.

“I…I don’t –”

“I’m Stephen. You are…?”

“Janelle.”

“Janelle. Beautiful,” he said
softly. Without warning, he pushed me up against the book shelf. “What are you
thinking right now?”

His sudden forwardness scared the
living hell out of me. “That I’m going to scream,” I hissed, glancing wildly around
me. “Leave me alone.”

“You wouldn’t,” Stephen said, his
body still flush against mine. “Something tells me that for all your talk, you
don’t like attracting attention to yourself. Am I right?”

I glared up at him. “Fúck you.”

“Feisty.”

We stared at each other for a long
moment – and then Stephen boldly mashed his lips against mine. I twisted my neck,
trying to resist him, but when it was obvious that he was an amazing kisser, my
will crumbling and I responded in equal fervour.

As he pressed against me, I felt
something digging into my gut. And that sent tremors through my body. His arms
snaked around my waist and his hands cupped my arse. Completely forgotten, the
Kinsella novel fell to the carpet with a light thud when I looped my arms around
Stephen’s neck.

He groaned into my mouth, biting my
bottom lip. “You should come tonight. In more ways than one.” He released me
abruptly.

I fell back to earth and came back
to my senses. Disentangling myself from him, I shot him a dark look. “Goodbye.”

“See you tonight?”

“Go to hell,” I fumed, turning on
my heel and marching to the librarian’s desk.

“Here’s your card, Miss Jones,”
Cindy drawled, handing it over. She looked me over. “Are you staying for the book
club meeting? People are on their way and Fiona will be here in a little while.”

I shook my head. “I’m exhausted.
Maybe next week.”

“Oh. All right. Well, we’ll see you
next week, dear. Take care of yourself.”

I walked out of the BK Public
Library without glancing back, confusion overwhelming me. My lips still tingled
from Stephen’s kiss. Whatever freaky shít was going on in there, Erin was sure to
know.



3: In Which She is a Bronte Girl [The Book Club (18+ Only) [COM...]
3: In Which She is a Bronte Girl

************************

After a gruelling day at the paper,
all I needed was a bottle of Bacardi and Prince inside me.

Except that he had a ‘hot date’
that evening.

“Guy or girl?” I asked over the
phone, walking into our empty apartment.

“Uh…both,” he replied quickly,
making me laugh. He cleared his throat. “Any plans for tonight? Like Spanish porn
stars?”

I sighed. “Alas, no. I shall go to
bed early after a few solitary drinks.”

“What about that book club shit
Erin was talking about?”

“Spare me.” I yawned. “I had no
intention of going.” I thought about Stephen and shivered. Flopping onto my unmade
bed, I kicked off my pumps. “I’m gonna hang up now. Your dates are probably getting
pissed.”

“Oh. Yeah. Sure. But listen, you
should go. At least the Spanish porn stars there will be intellectual.”

I giggled. “You’re retarded.” But I
would go.

“And you love me. Now later. Gotta
go.”

I took a quick shower after the
call and threw on a frilly paisley blouse and black skinnies. Erin had clearly been
over today, judging by the brand-new copy of Jane Eyre placed on my vanity table.

Nell – May you meet your Mr.
Rochester tonight. Kisses, Erin

I had to laugh. Erin couldn’t
possibly be serious. Still chuckling to myself, I shoved the book into my handbag.
Erin certainly knew how to tickle my funny bone.






I was late. That much was evident
from the number of cars already in the library parking lot. And it was only six-
thirty.

Slamming my Fiat shut, I crept
through the front door of the library, pushing it open with my elbow. The
librarian’s desk was empty. I sighed with relief that I wouldn’t have to see Miss
The-Library-is-Another-Planet Cindy. Erin had mentioned that the new reading centre
was downstairs. Clearly, after a decade, our library had been upgraded.

“Janelle?” someone called from the
stairwell.

“Yeah?”

“Hi! I’m Fiona.”

Fiona turned out to be a younger
version of Cindy – perkier and prettier. Her hair was a gorgeous shade of auburn in
a messy ponytail. My eyes popped out of my skull when I noticed her outfit – a
quirky red-and-white polka dot mini-dress.

“I’m supposed to be from Lewis
Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland,” she explained, grinning.

“Were we, um, supposed to dress
up?”

“If you want to. It’s not
mandatory.”

“You’re reading Alice?” I mentally
groaned. How…primary school. “I thought it was Jane Eyre.”

“You’re reading Jane.”

“I’m confused.”

“Didn’t Erin tell you? That bitch.”
She took a deep breath. “There are about ten to fifteen of us every week… The
numbers fluctuate sporadically – but we pair everyone up for… Oh fuckness. This is
going to be difficult to explain.” She wrinkled her button nose.

“I’m all ears,” I told her.

“Good.” She paused. “We only read
erotica,” she said with a straight face.

“Come again?” I asked, clutching my
copy of Jane Eyre to my chest. I suddenly felt like a girl who’d come to a fancy-
dress party dressed as herself.

“Oh, come on, Janelle,” Fiona
smiled, pulling my hand and leading me downstairs and into the reading room of the
library.

I gulped.

Oh fúck, Janelle, what are you even
doing here this is weird this woman’s weird and she smells of oranges f*ck f*ck I
am going to stab Erin!

The light in the library was dimmed
to a dull glow. Fiona still had my hand in hers in a vice grip.

You will never be able to finger
yourself with these digits, thanks to this woman.

“Relax, Janelle,” Fiona murmured,
releasing me. “Erin said you were a bit uptight and now I can see what she meant.”

“She said what?” I suddenly thought
of many ways to kill my best friend. Rat poison… Superglue down her throat…

“We get a lot of uptight people
here. Take a seat.”

What’s that supposed to mean? Maybe
I’ve stumbled into a cult. Or worse – a coven.

I slowly sat down on one of the
wooden chairs, setting my Brontë book on my lap. Whatever was going on here, I was
puzzled as hell and Erin Thomas was certainly going to regret the day she’d crawled
out of her mother’s vagína. I was trying to get my eyes adjusted to the dimness of
the room.

And then I heard a man’s voice
reading aloud: “I entered her from behind, squeezing the taut skin of her buttocks
and driving myself even deeper, until…”

I completely blanked out after that
part, but it was then that I noticed the other sounds in the library; sounds that
weren’t normally associated with a library.

Somewhere in the dark, I heard
moans of pleasure and the unmistakable yowl of a climax. Fiona suddenly breathed in
my ear, “Erotica sets the mood, Janelle. Don’t you know? Words are stimulants; the
images they create are stimulants. This is what we’re about.”

“So what’s this for?” I raised Jane
Eyre up.

“Simply for role play. Your Mr.
Rochester should be somewhere around here…” She trailed off; I could hear the smile
in her voice. “I believe I’ve found your Jane, my good sir.”

“Thank you, Alice,” a very familiar
voice said from behind me. I turned around in my seat.

The man who’d kissed me the other
week stood there, towering over me in my seat. Stephen, that was his name. How on
earth could I forget?

“You’ve abandoned the Hatter in a
very compromising position,” he continued.

Fiona laughed. “I can take a hint,
stud. Have fun, Janelle. I know you will,” she said, winking at me.

I got to my feet after she bounced
off. “This is sick,” I said, my voice steely.

Stephen pushed the chair aside.
“Why?”

“This is nothing short of an orgy!”
I hissed. It was hard to ignore the moaning and heavy breathing in the background,
not to mention the reader, who was currently describing how he ‘lapped up her
juices and felt himself grow with need’.

“An orgy is just about the séx, the
fúcking. This is an affair with literature, Jane.”

“Don’t. Don’t call me that. I’m not
participating in this.” I made a move past him. As expected, his hands shot out to
restrain me.

“What do you want from me?” I
snarled, trying to get out of his clutches.

“Since we’re being so bold, I’ll
tell you.” He pulled me into his arms and whispered into my ear, “Do you feel that?
That’s because of you, woman. You’re a walking turn-on and I need to be inside
you.”

I swallowed, realising how dry my
throat suddenly was. “Get your díck away from me, you horny little bastard.”

He laughed softly in my ear. “If
you say so.” Releasing me, he stood behind me and casually turned me in the
direction of the reader. “That’s Patrick. He’s a lawyer. Out of all of us, he’s the
best orator. You can just listen; you don’t have to participate, as you say.”

“I don’t want to listen.”

Just like that, Stephen let his
hands graze against the front of the thin fabric of my top. I never wore a bra when
I wore this blouse, so he might as well have been directly feeling up my boobs. I
instinctively leaned back into him.

“Shít, Janelle… The things I could
do to you,” he breathed in my ear, cupping one breast in his large hand.

“What things?” I found myself
asking, panting with need. My breasts were a sensitive pair.

“I thought you said you didn’t want
anything to do with this,” he teased, tweaking a nipple. “Why aren’t you wearing a
bra? Never mind. This is much better.”

“Stop.”

“Ssssh… Listen. This is the good
part.” Stephen removed his hands from my chest and wrapped his arms around my
waist.

“Pleasuring her was my sole purpose
on this earth. It was why I was created. I felt myself begin to come and held back.
She would come first; she had to.

Her wails escalated as she grabbed
at my skin, drawing blood. Tiny zings of pain shot through my shoulder blades but
they were outweighed by the explosion of ecstasy I was experiencing. She was
tighter than expected. I felt her clench around me, tighter than I thought was
possible, until I couldn’t hold back any longer. My c0ck was ready to burst and she
was responsible…”

Stephen’s own c0ck was hard against
me. I could feel him growing through the small of my back.

I closed my eyes, seeing the image
Patrick’s words were creating in my mind.

Hearing someone else read a ‘sexy
book’ aloud was taboo, wasn’t it? No one even wanted other people to see the covers
of their Mills & Boon. And here was this balding lawyer describing a séx scene in
great detail with moans and wails as his soundtrack. It really hit me then: People
were fúcking each other around me.

I was practically creaming my
panties imagining the simultaneous slide and retreat of various c0cks, the
simultaneous contracting and releasing of wet, hot cúnts...

And then I felt Stephen unbuttoning
my jeans. I kept my eyes closed, my heart racing. His hands slipped into the lace
underwear I’d casually thrown on, gently brushing against the folds of my pússy.

Thank fúck I shaved.

He shot a finger inside me, making
me jump back against him. As quickly as he entered me, he quickly retreated.

“As wet as I’d thought,” he
murmured into my ear. His finger returned to me and he slowly began to explore my
slick channel, swirling the pad of his thumb around my quivering clítoris.

I bit my bottom lip, already
excited. When he increased the pressure on my clít, a low moan escaped my lips. I
felt him press himself against me, shoving another finger up my hungry cúnt. He
picked up a furious pace, groaning into my ear, fúcking three digits into me –
until I climaxed, gripping his arm for balance.

Mortified, I yanked his hand out of
my pants, panting for air as I spun to face him.

“God, I want to be inside you right
now,” he said huskily, and I watched him suck on his fingers, tasting my juices.

“There are people in here,” I
breathed, in awe of what he was doing.

“So? They’re more interested in
what – who – they’re doing. Come here, Janelle.” He stretched out his hands.

I did.

He pulled me into him, laying a
gentle kiss on my lips. “Miss Eyre, you are incredibly sexy.”

Right. Role play. “For a blind guy,
I can’t fathom how you’d know that, Mr. Rochester,” I said, unzipping his pants.

“Hey, this is before my crazy wife
got my eyes burnt. I like living in sin.” He shrugged out of his jacket and threw
it onto the carpet.

“Do I…have to get butt naked?”

“You don’t have to do anything,
Janelle,” he said gently.

I glanced around me. Somewhere in
there was Fiona, fúcking a guy who was probably dressed as the Mad Hatter. A year
ago, Erin had been down here with Harry. I smiled, despite my annoyance with her.
If she could do this, so could I.

“Get a condom,” I breathed, pulling
my blouse off. The cool air hit my breasts and instantly made my nipples stand to
attention.

“They didn’t have those back then.”
“Yeah – nor did they have birth control.”

“Touché, schoolteacher.” He whipped
one out. “I was just kidding about that. I always use one. I don’t want you to
think I’m a disease-riddled –”

I pressed my lips against his.
“Shut up, before I have second thoughts.”

“We can’t have that now, can we?”
he said.

“No, sir…” I squealed when he
picked me up and set me on a desk. “Here?” I asked incredulously. “On the…desk?”

“You’re so sexy when you act
innocent.”

I looked up at him. “Stephen… I
don’t do this type of stuff. I –”

“I’m just going to make you feel
good, Janelle,” he said gently, stroking the exposed skin of my stomach. “This is
just fun. You’ll have fun.”

He punctuated his sentence by
pulling my jeans and thong off in one tug. I tried to get comfortable, but the fact
that I was going to have séx in a room full of other people having séx was right
there in my face.

Stephen surprised me by lifting my
leg in the air, forcing me to stay on my back. My breath caught when he kissed my
ankle, one of the gentlest things I’d ever felt.

“Jane,” he said huskily, “do you
know your two-times-tables?” He kissed his way up the inside of my thigh.

“What?”

“Two-times-one?”

Oh. Right. I’m the au pair.

“Two,” I replied, breathing
heavily.

“Two-times-two?”

“Shít,” I said when he kissed my
bare pússy.

“Wrong answer.” He raised his head.
“They didn’t have these back then, I believe.”

I tried to look at what he was
referring to and gasped.

“Hell, no,” I said, throwing him a
dirty look.

“Jane, are you being
insubordinate?”

“Stephen – cut the crap.”

“It’s Mr. Rochester.”

“You’re not…putting that…inside
me,” I breathed.

He flicked the button on. The sound
sent shivers skating down my spine. “Don’t tell me you’ve never masturbated before,
Jane. I will be very astonished if you say so.”

“I can’t do this.”

Stephen broke character and gave me
a kind look. “OK. Cool. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

But fúck it. Live in the moment,
right? That was Erin inside my head. You’re such a pússy!

I spread myself for him. “Be my
guest.”

“Fúck,” he exhaled, setting the
vibrator on the desk. “I can’t wait.” He tested his weight on the table.

You’re really doing this, Janelle.

I heard him unwrap the foil packet
and relaxed, squeezing my eyes shut.

“Hey,” he said into my ear,
hovering over me. He was keeping the bulk of his weight off me, propping himself up
with his forearms. “I’m out of character.”

I opened my eyes. “I noticed. They
didn’t say hey back then. Hay is for horses.”

“And I bet the Jane Eyres of that
time were simple and boring,” he said, kissing my neck. “Which you, Janelle, are
not.”

“No foreplay,” I whispered, arching
my back to graze my painful nipples against the flat planes of his chest. “I can’t
wait any longer.”

Stephen bit my neck gently. “You
taste amazing.”

Seconds later, he pushed into me. I
huffed out a sharp breath, the fullness of his c0ck so surreal I thought I was
imagining it. I wrapped my legs around his waist as he began to pummel into me, not
holding an inch back. Stephen might have been gentle at first but now, as the
powerful need for release took over, he was rough and feral. The table creaked
beneath us as he stroked into me, biting my shoulder. The pain was sweet and when
his c0ck simultaneously hit my most sensitive spot, I arched my back and came,
clawing at his back like a vixen.

Stephen was still hard inside me
and when I climaxed again, he followed with a guttural groan, murmuring my name
into my damp neck.

“Spent, I collapsed on top of her,
hoping that she was sated as well,” Patrick read, turning the page. “There were few
things that pleased me more than pleasing this goddess. I would eat her until the
Apocalypse arrived. She would be my saviour.”



4: In Which She is on the Menu [The Book Club (18+ Only) [COM...]
 4: In Which She is on the

Menu

************

Erin was at her desk reading a
magazine. She sat up straight when she saw me.

“Why haven’t you been answering my
calls?” were the first words out her mouth.

I sat across her, crossing one leg
over the other. “Because you deserve to be cut out of my life.”

“Oh, come on. Don’t be like that.”
There was a grin on her face. “You have the look of someone who got laid good.”

“Your English is atrocious. No
wonder you’re a photographer.” I stuck my tongue out at her.

“Fuck you.” She paused, winking at
me. “So how was it, Jane?”

I blushed. “You can’t just do that
to people, Er. I’m pretty sure there’s a law against shit like that.”

“Against what? Assisting a friend
in receiving a sexual eruption?” She giggled. “I swear, Janelle, sometimes you act
so…so pious! Like a nun who’s escaped a nunnery.”

I flung a ruler at her. She neatly
dodged it, giggling loudly.

“Seriously, Er. That wasn’t cool.
At all,” I said soberly, giving her my darkest look.

Erin had the grace to blush. “But…
you had fun, right?”

I felt my face heat up as well.
“You could say that.”

“And will you see Mr. Rochester
again?”

I bit my bottom lip. “Probably not.
Actually, definitely not.”

Erin sighed in defeat. “So you can
return to fúcking your bisexual best friend? Nell, I don’t have to get a PhD to
know how unhealthy that is.”

“I didn’t say anything about
Prince,” I protested, holding my hands up. “I hardly think that…that so-called book
club is healthy, either. In fact –”

“It’s just sex, sweetheart. If
something comes from it – like Harry and me – then awesome. But if not, at least
you got it good, right?”

I thought about how happy she'd
been with her ex. “I guess so.”

“Good. Now run off into the world,
my little sexually awakened bunny rabbit.”

I couldn’t help but laugh.

That afternoon, I had to dash out
to the scene of a gas explosion at a clothes factory. No fatalities had been
reported, although there were a few major injuries like third-degree burns and the
like. It wasn’t much of a story but at least it was something.


And at least it didn’t involve horny exhibitionist CEOs.


Exhausted after interviewing as many different people as I could and watching Sean
Pacey, our chief photographer, take pictures of the devastation, I wanted nothing
more than to kick my feet up and crash. But first, I had to eat something.

Erin had often recommended Plaisir,
a fancy French restaurant that had been around for ages. They also sold the best
burgers, according to her, even though they were supposed to be all about high-end
gourmet treats. So, after bidding adieu to Sean, who had to return to the office
anyway, I got into my car and headed there. Plaisir was popular but surprisingly
economical. Yes, there were expensive menus, but there were also affordable ones
for cheapskates like me. I could never splurge on something that should have been
free in the first place – in this case, food.

“Good day, madam,” the maitre d’
greeted me once I was inside. “Are you eating alone or are you waiting for
someone?”

“I’m alone,” I replied, grateful
that he didn’t ask about a reservation. I had never been anywhere that required
reservations. Such was the life of a pauper.

“Stella, please show this lovely
lady to table eighteen. I see it’s vacant.”

Stella was a big-busted redhead
with the biggest, bluest eyes I’d ever seen. She flashed me a megawatt smile and
led me to the empty table, telling me how gorgeous I looked. I was in jeans and an
MCR T-shirt. I guessed that they were told to suck up no matter how poor their
clients looked.

“Here’s a menu,” Stella drawled,
pushing a leather-bound booklet across the table. “I’ll be back in a little while
to take your order.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She hopped away.

As I glanced around the restaurant,
I couldn’t help but be a little awestruck. The lights were ostentatious and bright
and all the curtains were drawn. If I didn’t know any better, I’d have said that
I’d stumbled into a different time zone, five hours ahead. It felt like night-time.

Whoever had designed the place
deserved a medal – it was like a little chalet on the Swiss Alps. I’d never been to
the Alps but it was definitely on my to-do list. I just never managed to save
enough for the trip when the holidays cropped up.

“Everything to your liking, madam?”
a voice said from above me.

“I haven’t had anything yet.” I
looked up.

Stephen was looking down at me. His
eyes dawned with recognition. “How did you know –”

“What are you doing here?” I cut
him off, reddening. I looked him up and down, taking in the charcoal-black suit and
tie. He looked spectacular, far more edible than he did in plainclothes.

“This is my restaurant,” he said,
taking the seat opposite me.

“I think I should go.” I snapped
the menu shut.

“What? Why? Look, I’ll go.”

“We weren’t supposed to see each
other in the real world!” I hissed. This was awful.

“Real world? So where were you last
Friday? Narnia?”

My embarrassment turned to
annoyance. “Adorable. Do you watch all your patrons like a hawk?”

“Only the ones I’ve had my c0ck
inside.”

I flung the menu at him, catching
his shoulder as he dodged. The few clientele at their respective tables shot me
curious glances. Some openly glared.

“Janelle,” Stephen chuckled, “your
aim sucks.”

“I just want you to know that that
was the sickest thing I’ve ever participated in. You’re all sick, perverted…
psychos!”

He leaned forward. “You don’t mean
that. You’re probably getting wet thinking about it.” He bit his bottom lip,
drawing my attention to his pink pout. “Just like I’m getting hard remembering.”

I discreetly crossed one leg over
the other and swallowed. “I’ve lost my appetite.”

“And I just got mine. Janelle, I
know you’re probably in a rush but I’m Mr. Darcy tomorrow. How’s about we start a
day early?”

Mr. Darcy? I thought, feeling the
slight tug in my abdomen that told me I was horny as fúck and wouldn’t mind being
thrown down in front of all these people.

“I have to…get back to work,” I
heard myself say, biting my lip. “And we…we just can’t do this. Not in the real
world.”

“Fantasies can become reality,
Janelle. You just have to want them badly.”

I want it. I want it so bad.

“Come with me.” Stephen stood up
and stretched his hand out.

I just want a burger and fries… I
just want a burger and fries… I just want…

I took his hand.





“The kitchen?” I said, wrinkling my
nose. “Don’t you know how unhygienic this is?”

Stephen laughed. “This is the old
kitchen. Note the fact that it’s completely empty, sweetheart.”

He gestured at the large granite
counter. “That was where the magic was created. By me, no less.”

“You’re a chef?”

“I was. Now I just run this world.”
His eyes landed on my face. “I want to eat you.”

I took a step back. “You’re so…
direct.”

“Screw beating around the bush,
Janelle. It is what it is.” With that, he pressed his lips against mine, his hands
gripping my face. He started slow, taking his time to trace the seam of my lips
with his tongue. I moaned out a protest at his pace, parting my lips, and his
tongue finally stroked inside me.

I felt my knees buckle at the sheer
force of his kiss and wrapped my arms around his waist for support. His hands
travelled to my arse, cupping it and squeezing.

“What if someone catches us?” I
breathed into his mouth, the sound of my own blood and desire in my ears.

“They’ll probably masturbate.” He
picked me up like I weighed a bag of air and set me on the granite counter. “Did
you buy this T-shirt when you were twelve?” His hands pulled at the skin-tight
fabric.

“I’m a small person.” Wrapping my
legs somewhere around his groin, I kicked my pumps off.

“Take it off,” Stephen commanded.

“You’re crazy.”

“Janelle, I’m only going to ask you
once.”

There was nothing but yearning in
his eyes; yearning that I was sure was mirrored in my own eyes as well. Without
answering, I tugged my top off, the cool air instantly biting my skin.

Stephen’s hands touched the soft
skin of my tummy. I shivered. When he unhooked my bra, my hands immediately flew to
my chest.

“What do you think you’re doing?
Someone could –”

“Be adventurous, sweetheart. Be a
fúcking explorer.” With that, he disentangled my legs from himself and went to the
large steel refrigerator.

I felt like I had stripped at the
doctor’s and was waiting for him to probe me. But there was also that what-is-he-
going-to-do-next rush that spiked through me. Stephen was as unpredictable as the
Grammys.

“Lie down, Janelle.” Stephen had a
can of what looked like whipped cream.

I obeyed him, getting down on my
back on the cold granite. My feet were slightly dangling over one end and my hair
was hanging over the other. Stephen stood over my middle and leaned in. With his
tongue sticking out in determination, I watched him squirt cream onto my rock-hard
nipples. The sensation made me squeal.

“I love whipped cream,” he said
softly, dabbing a finger into the mound on my left nipple. He brought it to his
mouth. “Amazing.”

I closed my eyes and felt him unzip
me.

“No.” My eyes flew open.

“Yes,” he corrected, pulling my
jeans and underwear off in one practiced tug. He leaned down and kissed my pússy.
“Hello, old friend.”

I couldn’t help the laugh that
escaped my lips. Why was he being so silly?

Once again, I felt the cool
sensation of the cream hitting me – except this time, it was on my pússy. I bit my
bottom lip, squirming at the cool sensation of cream hitting my clít, my labia.
Stephen squirted another glob on my navel and threw the bottle to the ground.

He stood at my feet and pulled me
towards him. And just like that his mouth was on my cúnt, lapping at the cream like
a crazed kitten. I felt his tongue flicker inside me and clenched my muscles,
steeling myself for the onslaught I knew was coming. He continued licking up the
cream, grazing my pússylips with his teeth and lashing into me with the tip of his
tongue; nudging my clít with the bridge of his nose. I reached down and pushed his
face inside me, wanting him to make me come.

I did. Hard. Long.

Breathing raggedly, I crashed down
to earth, embarrassed. This was just like last Friday – best örgasm of my life, and
then discomfort afterwards. There was no winning.

Stephen got onto the counter, suit
and all. I inched myself up, giving him space. There was nothing more that I wanted
than him inside me, as bold as that sounded.

“You’ll get cream on your suit,” I
murmured, dipping my index finger into the mound on one nipple and putting it to my
mouth.

He inhaled sharply. “Don’t do sexy
things like that. You have no idea how turned on I am.” He pressed his bottom half
against me, letting me feel the erection in his pants. “But I don’t have
protection.”

Warning bells instantly went off in
my head. I was usually on the Pill, for safety purposes – who would want me as
their mum? – and because it helped relieve the period cramps I occasionally had.

But I hadn’t been on it lately.

Maybe it’s a sign.

Stephen searched my eyes for a
response. The only guy I’d ever been with without protection was Prince, and only
because we got tested together. But this was Stephen, my pleasure giver.

I racked my brain, thinking of my
menstrual cycle and letting out a sigh. We were going to be good. I hoped. So I
looked up at him and wrapped my legs around his waist.

“First, you’re going to lick this
shít up – and then, Mr. Darcy, you’re going to fúck me,” I told him, licking my
lips.

Stephen laughed, a deep sound that
came from his stomach. He leaned down and gently latched onto a nipple.

I had to admit that burgers and
fries could never give me this much pleasure.



5: In Which She Passes a Test [The Book Club (18+ Only) [COM...]
5: In Which She Passes a Test

*******************

“So you don’t think I have an
allergy to satin?” I asked Dr. Hudson for the fiftieth time, worry creasing up my
face.

Paige Hudson chuckled. “No,
Janelle. I’d hardly believe the itching is caused by a newly-developed satin
allergy.” She paused, giving me a serious look. “I would like to advise a Chlamydia
test.”

I got off the rickety examination
bed with a start, shocked to the core. “Excuse me?”

“Janelle, I’m not going to beat
around the bush about this.” Paige sighed. “We’re friends, right?” She was ten
years my senior but I did consider her a mate. “And I’m your GP. It’s my job to
explore every option for your sake. Chlamydia is the most common STD and in my
opinion –”

Blushing, I swiftly cut in. “I
don’t have that.”

“Had sex lately? With anyone…new?
Didn’t use protection? Or maybe it broke?”

Oh, fúck. A myriad of emotions ran
through my insides. Surely it couldn’t be him. But I was pretty sure the look I
gave my doctor said it all.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Paige
nodded to herself. “Now, you said it hurts a little when you pee?”

“It…it only started yesterday.”

“OK. Anything else – aside from the
itching?”

“No.”

Paige sighed again. She did that a
lot with me, I was beginning to notice. Placing a gentle hand on my shoulder, she
said softly, “Look, I know you’re agitated but it really isn’t anything to be
embarrassed about. I see this almost every day. Most women don’t even show
symptoms.” She took her hand back. “Besides, it’s not your fault. You probably got
it from the last person you slept with. That still doesn’t change the fact that
unprotected sex is silly, risky business, Janelle. I say this as a friend, not your
doctor.”

It had been two weeks since that
episode in the kitchen with Stephen. I hadn’t gotten laid since, plus I hadn’t
showed up to the book club since my first visit. I didn’t have the balls to.

“That c0cksucking cúnt!” I found
myself screeching, stumbling backwards and perching on the bed. “He gave me an STD!
Of all the bloody things!”

“Jay, calm down,” Paige soothed.

“Calm down? He gave me a fúcking
STD! How am I supposed to calm down?”

“Consider this a lesson learned.
We’ll do the swab and I’ll give you antibiotics and you’ll be out on the prowl once
again, OK?”

I took deep breaths, close to
hyperventilating. “Okay,” I whispered. “Okay.”





“I just Googled Chlamydia,” Prince
said from his perch at the foot of my bed. Gulping down the last of his pizza, he
looked up from his BlackBerry. “Apparently, you can’t have sex with anyone until
Paige says you can.”

“This isn’t funny,” I wailed,
throwing a pillow at him.

“I’m being serious!”

I stared up at the ceiling. I
didn’t ever want to leave my bedroom. “I always use protection. Unless… Well, my
only real fear was getting pregnant and that was never a possibility with you since
you're – you know – sterile. Getting infected with a disease was never a
possibility to me. I really am a dunce.”

Prince got next to me on the bed.
“You know what, babe?”


“We should find that man-whore and
slash his díck off.”

I let out a loud laugh. “And feed
it to him. After all, he owns a restaurant.”

“He does? Well, let’s go look for
him!” Prince got up excitedly. “You could expose him in front of everyone!”

“And expose myself in the process?”
I said dryly. “No, thank you. I still have to show my face in public. It’s kind of
part of my job.”

“You’re such a spoilsport.”

“I do have to tell him, though.
Paige told me that he probably doesn’t know he’s got…it.”

“You should just let him die.”

“It doesn’t kill.” I sat up.
“Prince, can I be alone? Please?”

He gave me a strange look. “Sure.
I’ll be in the living room.”

Once he’d gone, I got up and threw
some clothes on. I’d come straight home and scrubbed myself to the core – as if I
could somehow scrub Chlamydia away – and poured myself into my PJs. Prince, trying
to find out what was wrong, had ordered a large pepperoni pizza to bribe the
information out of me. He’d succeeded.

“Oh, you’re going to get it, Mr.
Darcy,” I spat into the mirror as I dragged a comb through my difficult hair. I
pulled it into a messy ponytail and stalked out the room. Prince looked away from
the TV when I came in.

“Where are you going looking like
the girl-next-door?”

“Out.”

“You’re going to see this arsehole,
aren’t you?”

I heaved a sigh. “I have to. I’m
pissed off and dying to punch him.”

“Then I give my blessing. Call me
once he’s lying in hospital.”

I forced out a laugh. “Sure thing.”



*



Plaisir was packed at this time of
night. It took me forever to find parking and once I did, I had to squeeze myself
between two humongous Land Rovers. Land Rovers were the Justin Biebers of the car
world – annoying as hell and pretty damn overrated.

Stella was at the maître d’s podium
this time, grinning and greeting everyone enthusiastically.

“Evening, ma’am!” she greeted
brightly. She gave me a pout. “Aw. Unfortunately, all our tables are taken. I can
–”

“Where’s Stephen?”

“Who?”

“Stephen…” My voice trailed off
when I realised that I didn’t know his last name. “He owns this place.”

“Oh! You mean Mr. Ritter.” Stella
let out a little giggle that told me exactly how she felt about her dashing boss.
“You’re in luck. He usually swings by a little later but he came in early tonight
for –”

“Just tell me where he is.” If I
didn’t cut her off, I had the feeling she’d blabber on and on, giving me Stephen’s
itinerary.

“What’s it about?”

“It’s personal.”

She arched a thin brow. “I’m not
too –”

“That motherfúcker gave me an STD!”
I hissed furiously, just about ready to slap the red off her head. “I have every
right to see him right now. I don’t care if he’s entertaining the Dalai Lama – take
me to him!”

Stella visibly gulped, her pale
skin blooming a deep crimson. “F-follow me.”

We picked our way through the
packed tables and headed into the kitchen – the actual, busy one – and out the
other side. Stella was silent the whole way, her sky-high purple heels click-
clacking against the linoleum floor.

How do you confront someone about
the STD they gave you?

That was the only question running
through my mind – well, that and What object should I use to slash his díck off?

Stella knocked on a closed glass
door with a golden OFFICE plaque beside it. Tacky.

“This is the manager’s office,” she
explained over her shoulder. “Mr. Ritter comes in from time to –”

“I don’t really give a shit what he
comes in here to do,” I cut in.

The door was pulled open and
Stephen himself stood there. In a black cashmere jumper and jeans, he looked even
better than in a suit. Every time he wore something different, he just about
managed to make himself seem even more irresistible. For a moment, I could only
stare.

A slow smile spread across his
boyish face. “Janelle, hey. Thanks, Stella.” He nodded at her to leave before
gazing down at me once again. “How’ve you been?”

I snapped to attention. “How do you
think I’ve been, you sonofabitch?”

Stephen gauged my no-nonsense
expression and quickly pulled me into the room, slamming the door behind him.

“What’s going on?” he demanded,
looking puzzled.

I smacked him in the chest as hard
as I could with both hands. He barely flinched.

“You fúcking prick! You bítch!”

“Janelle!” He gripped my hands in
his, shaking me into submission. “Could you please explain what the hell is going
on?”

“You gave me an STD, that’s what!”

Stephen released me abruptly,
giving me an odd look. “What?”

Stupidly enough, I felt a ball
welling up in my throat. “I went for a check-up and…and my GP told me I have…have
Chlamydia.”

Stephen’s eyes were blazing. “And
you think I gave it to you?” he growled angrily, looking at me with disgust.

“Who else? You’re the last –”

“I get tested all the time,
Janelle,” he snarled. “If I have Chlamydia then I got it from you.” He ran a hand
through his unruly dirt-blonde hair. “Oh, shít. If you have it, I have it.”

“I don’t sleep around without –”

“Janelle, cut the innocent
bullshít. Who else have you slept with in the past month?”

My mind was racing. It wasn’t even
that hard to think about it.

“Just Prince and David,” I said to
myself, biting my lip.

“Fúck,” Stephen said under his
breath, going to his desk. “Fúck. I have to go. We should never have had sex. This
is just my fúcking luck.”

“You don’t know that I gave it to
you!”

“Well, we know that I sure as hell
didn’t give it to you,” he snapped in annoyance, grabbing his jacket from the back
of the big black chair behind the desk. “Do yourself – and whichever poor cúnt you
sink your fangs into next – a favour and keep your legs closed for business from
now on.”

“You bastard,” I spat, cheeks
flaming. “I never want to see you again.”

“That makes two of us.”

I stormed out of his office, tears
of humiliation burning down my cheeks.

When I got home, Prince was on the
couch, fear in his eyes.

“Janelle, I am so fúcking sorry,”
he said quickly as soon as I stumbled into the room. “I got tested last week and
since you didn’t complain of any symptoms I just thought you hadn’t gotten it. And
then, well, I didn’t want to confess that I was the one who infected you,” he said
quickly. “It was going to be easier for me to go along with Stephen giving it to
you…but I can’t lie to you, Jay. I just can’t. I’m sorry. I hope to fuck you didn’t
beat the poor guy up.”

I stared at him in disbelief.

“I probably gave it to Stephen and…
and I’m going to bed,” I said, my voice hollow.

“Janelle, I’m –”

“Sorry? Whatever, Prince.
Whatever.” I pushed past him on my way to my room, slamming the door behind me.

Stephen’s look of revulsion was
burned on my brain. He probably thought I was a cheap hussy, which was completely
unfair. I deserved it though. I completely deserved it. Sleeping with Prince –
however gratifying – without protection had been foolish and chancy.

Erin was going to have a field day
with this one.
6: In Which She Sees Double [The Book Club (18+ Only) [COM...]
6: In Which She Sees Double
************************
“What's cracking, Mother Teresa?”
I felt a slap on the back of my head and turned around in my seat on the couch,
glaring at Erin. “Are we back in high school now?”
Erin sniffed the air. “I smell...someone who hasn't gotten díck in a month.” She
leaned over the back of the couch and sniffed me like an eager puppy. “The smell
seems to be getting stronger...and stronger...”
I slapped her away, laughing. “What the hell is up with you?”
“Nell, I've come to pick you up, OK?”
“We just saw each other about half an hour ago, Er. If you wanted to go out, why
didn’t you tell me then?”
She threw her handbag onto the couch and climbed over, plopping down beside me.
“Because you practically went Usain Bolt out the office! It was quite good fun to
watch, actually.”
I rolled my eyes at her exaggeration, turning down the volume of the Supernatural
re-run I was in the middle of. “I had someone swinging by to have a peek at the
apartment,” I explained to her. “You know, now that Prince is moving out.”
“Ah,” Erin said, grinning. "The Exodus of the Buck Fuddy. Catchy title, don’t you
think?”
I forced a laugh out. Truthfully, it was Prince's idea for him to move out on the
grounds that our relationship was becoming incredibly “unhealthy”. I couldn't
disagree there. Despite Paige giving me the all-clear, I was still so deeply
ashamed of what had happened. STDs had never even crossed my mind before I caught
one from Prince of all people, someone I trusted with my life.
Adding insult to injury, I'd probably given it to Stephen. I hadn’t seen him in a
little over a month, though, so I wasn’t too sure but there was no way I was going
to go up to him and ask. Plaisir had become a no-go zone. I was probably on the
restaurant’s persona non grata list. I didn’t blame Stephen. Or Stella.
“Seriously, why don't you move in with me, Er?” I asked for the billionth time,
giving her my best version of puppy-dog eyes.
Strangely, she averted her eyes. “Janelle, you know how much I love my apartment.
Besides, the rent is brilliant! You'd probably try to rob me.” Returning her eyes
to me, she stuck her tongue out at me in the normal-Erin fashion, before glancing
at her watch. "OK, get your sexy arse into the bedroom and change. We’re going to
be late.”
“Late for what?” I almost didn’t want to know. Erin’s idea of excitement was a
stratosphere above mine.
“Book club, sweetie. Twilight’s this week’s book.”
***

“I can't believe I let you drag me
here,” I groaned as Erin, with all the strength she possessed in her petite body,
pushed me through the doors of the library.
“You don’t have clam chowder anymore, OK? You’re free to fuck.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Clam chowder?”
“Chlamydia, babe.” She sighed. “Look, Bella. All you have to do is scope out a
Jacob or Edward – or both – and have some fantastic supernatural séx. I bet Stephen
won’t even be here.”
“Is that what you think I'm worried about?” Oh, Erin knew me too fúcking well.
Erin paused, giving me an irritated look. “You got an STD. Big deal. In fact, I’m
shocked you didn’t catch one sooner. For all Prince’s good looks and sex appeal,
he's probably riddled with all kinds of diseases.” She gave me a serious look, eyes
wide. “Some of them probably haven’t even been discovered yet.”
I gave her a playful shove. "He doesn't sleep around as much as you think he does,"
I told her, still defending him after everything. He was still my friend, despite
how unhealthy our friendship had become.
“Yeah – and Stars are Blind deserved a Grammy. Nell, this is supposed to be fun.
And you did have fun the last time you came, right?"
I thought back to how Stephen had made me feel sexy, had made me come – and nodded.
“So this isn't a big deal, is it? And in case you're wondering, I brought the
protection. No glove, no love, honey. Remember that.”
“I thought I heard voices!” Fiona's cheerful voice called from the top of the
stairs leading downstairs. This time, she wore a brunette pixie-bob wig that made
her eyes look bigger than normal. “I'm Alice Cullen,” she said, giving us a wink.
She looked us over. "And don't tell me... Dark, angsty look - black everything...
You're Bella.” She pointed at me then gazed at Erin. "Renesmee-gone-Jersey Shore?"
Erin threw her head back and laughed. “Hey, I'm supposed to be a kid. A sexy one,
nonetheless.”
“No, no, I like it - and I'm sure all the paedo Jacobs will too.” Alice took our
hands. “Stephenie Meyer's den of sin awaits us, ladies.”
“Is...is Stephen here? Ritter,” I asked Fiona feebly. I hated sounding so pathetic
but I couldn’t help it where this man was concerned. I was so embarrassed.
Fiona shook her head. “Hasn't been in a while, actually. The regulars miss him.
Like me.”
“You've slept with him?” The sharpness in my tone made Erin send me a knowing look.
I ignored it, and tried to ignore the spike of jealousy in my heart as well. Please
say no… Please say…
“Of course.”
A stab of anger shot right through me, which was absolutely silly. For starters,
Stephen never wanted to see me again. I didn’t even blame him, couldn’t blame him.
There seemed to be more people tonight and I turned to Erin to give her a dirty
look. More people meant more eyes. Was I really ready to be such an exhibitionist?
An exhibitionist and a voyeur. Filthy. Perverted. Sexy.
The repetitious sound of random people climaxing filled the air like a scratched
CD, taking me back to my first evening at the book club. Someone different was
reading - and this time, like Erin had pointed out, it was Twilight.
I couldn't stand the so-called 'saga'. Like most people, I'd gone out to my local
bookstore and purchased one in an attempt to understand the hype. Years later, it
was now in my bathroom as a stand for my potted plant on the floor.
However, seeing so many naked ‘werewolves’ and ‘vampires’ in one room was a fantasy
I'd contemplated. Being with someone like Eric Northman or Damon Salvatore was
every woman's dream. Raw animal prowess and sex appeal? Irresistible.
"Take your pick, babe," Erin whispered in my ear, her arm around my waist.
Thank God there's no Stephen, I thought with relief, after squinting in the dim
light trying to spot him.
"I'm going with werewolf," I said, giggling at how silly I sounded to my own ears.
"I think I need to be ripped apart after the ordeal I’ve been through."
"That's the spirit." Erin was suddenly whisked away from me by a tall, pale
stranger - clearly a vamp.
"Are you Alice?" he asked, his voice slightly tinged with a strong Scottish accent.
"Depends on who's asking," she replied coyly.
"James. Victoria's out of town, so I feel the need to sleep with the enemy.
Literally."
I walked away right then, nearly gagging at how cheesy the guy sounded. He’d
obviously read the books or watched the movies. What a saddo of a grown man.
But Erin would eat him up. The fact that he was so into his ‘role’ would only turn
her on.
Good for Er, I mused to myself, now feeling the first sweep of cold feet. What am I
doing here without Stephen?
Despite our last mortifying encounter, a little part of me was hoping to bump into
Stephen, if not to just apologise for accusing him of giving me "clam chowder" and
or for giving it to him as well. Just the thought of saying those words made my
face heat up with humiliation.
“What are you doing standing in a corner alone?” a slightly accented voice asked in
disbelief.
I realised that I’d zoned out and was currently staring at my shoes like a dolt.
Looking up, I found myself staring at one of the most perfect olive-skinned men I'd
ever seen. I felt like a complete teenager, tongue-tied and gaping.
"I'm supposed to be Carlisle but I guess no one's interested in an old doctor," he
chuckled, leaning against the wall beside me. I placed his accent as French.
A French guy... Oh my. Isn't French the language of love?
"You're not old," I found myself saying. "Is that a wig?" I asked, gesturing at his
mop of bone-straight silver hair.
He laughed, fingering one lock. "Prematurely grey, unfortunately."
"It's...different."
"I'm Luc, by the way," he told me, sticking out his hand.
I took it. "Janelle."
"Pretty. Very pretty. So...I believe I asked you what you're doing here alone?" he
prodded, giving me a slow smile. "I don't believe I've ever seen you around here."
"This is only my second time. Orgies? Not really my thing."
"It's only an orgy if you want it to be," Luc said quietly, just as Erin gave out a
piercing scream (it was disgusting how I knew what kind of noises she made when she
came).
"I've never - "
"Have you ever thought about a threesome?"
"A threesome?" I played with the word in my mouth.
"It's not an orgy. Much, much better than five men pouncing on you. But double the
fun."
Mother Teresa, Erin's voice said in my head.
"Who would the third person be?" I asked, curious despite myself.
"Sorry I'm late," another deep voice said, approaching us. "Good thing your hair's
like a lighthouse!"
"Janelle, this is my brother Paul," Luc said, slapping a hand on the giant’s back.
They were identical – tall, dark and incredibly handsome – save for their hair.
While Luc’s was a gleaming white, Paul’s was the polar opposite: Raven-black. Their
eyes – forest-green and long-lashed – looked at me with twin desire.
Sweet baby Suri, this is unreal!
Two very attractive, very big guys were looking at me like I was the last piece of
chicken at a family reunion. Was it possible to get so aroused by simple predatory
eye-fúcking?
Yes. Yes, it is.
"Janelle, you are beautiful." Paul was the first to speak, taking my hand in his
and pecking the inside of my wrist.
"Th-thank you," I stammered out, feeling my face heat up. The feel of his lips
against my skin made the tiny hairs on my arms stand up.
Luc looked at me knowingly. "So Janelle, ma petite... Are you interested?"
I glanced from brother to brother. "Just one question: Who's Paul supposed to be?"
He tilted his head to one side. "Emmett, of course. Can't you tell?" He gestured at
his white wife beater, flexing his arms in an exaggerated fashion.
"I always imagined Emmett to have a big díck,” I said to myself, then couldn’t
believe I’d said it aloud.
But Paul grinned. “Then I guess that really does make me Emmett.”

Luc kissed me first. It made sense, since he’d instigated this whole thing.
He was both gentle and needy, his hands roaming all over my body and cupping my
buttocks. He pressed himself against me, his erection begging to be noticed. As
quickly as he touched me, he suddenly disappeared and was replaced by his brother.
Paul was the opposite - animalistic and forceful. Parting my lips, I let his tongue
dart inside and he bit down on my bottom lip. Hard. I let out a yelp of pain and he
squeezed my arse in his hands, kneading it like dough. I found myself becoming
wetter by the second, so excited by the obvious difference between the two.
Without warning, Paul pulled away and ripped my top over my head, discarding it on
the carpet. Blood rushed to my skull, ringing in my ears. Luc came up behind me,
unhooking my bra and cupping my breasts in his hands. He was gentle about it.
Elongating my nípples between two fingers, he bent down and sucked on the delicate
skin of my neck, grazing it gently with his teeth like a teasing vampire.
Paul’s fingers slipped into my leggings and underwear, searching for entry. The
double combination of sensations was quickly becoming too much for me; I
desperately needed release.
Leaning into Luc, I could once again feel the reassuring steel of his c0ck pressing
against the small of my back and instantly wondered what it would feel like to have
him balls-deep inside me while his brother played with my clít.
Paul was gently playing with my pussylips, toying with me, taunting me. I felt like
screaming at him to stop the teasing when he suddenly shoved two fingers deep
within my dripping heat. The shock of it sent me jumping and I couldn’t stop my
scream of pleasure even if I wanted to. I was wet, so wet I thought I could hear
the squelching sound his fingers made as he fúcked his fingers into me repeatedly.
Rocking back and forth against his hand, I could feel myself reaching the brink of
a backbreaking climax. I was so close I could almost feel it. As Paul increased the
pressure on my cl!t and Luc squeezed my breasts in his hands, a vision of Stephen
flashed in front of my eyes. It wasn’t fair that he was creeping into my thoughts
at such a profoundly séxual moment. Guilt shrouded me like a dirty blanket. I tried
to shake it off.
Think about what’s happening now, Nell, I told myself, gripping Paul and finally,
finally coming. As silently as I possibly could. My own musky scent filled the air,
wafting up my nostrils. I sighed.
They both stopped what they were doing.
“I think you’re ready,” Luc whispered in my ear, his voice strangled.
Paul took my hand and led me to a desk. I briefly wondered if it was the same desk
Stephen had fúcked me on the first time I’d come there.
“Undress,” the raven-haired brother commanded, standing beside his brother. Side by
side, they looked both intimidating and absolutely godlike.
Uninhibited, I removed the last vestiges of my clothing. After all, everyone in

that room was naked as well. I had just had an orgásm in front of them. It would've
been foolish for me to turn prudish right then.
Standing still, the brothers’ eyes appreciatively swept over my body. Paul
unbuckled his belt and whipped his c0ck out, just like that. My eyes widened at the
sheer size of it.
Surely that’s illegal?
“Come here, Janelle,” he murmured, breaking out of character. He wrapped a fist

around the thick base of his curved erection. “How flexible are you, sweet thing?”
“Ballet for ten years. I’d say pretty flexible,” I replied truthfully, unable to
drag my eyes away from his erection.
“Then bend. Ninety degrees. And blow me.”
I swallowed. Had I ever engaged in anything this...dirty before? No. Never.
“Emmett doesn’t beat about the bush,” Luc growled into my ear. Then, he said more
gently, “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. And I swear, we use
protection.”
Music to my ears, I thought, laughing weakly. The last thing I wanted was to catch
anything. Again.
Swallowing, I examined Paul’s c0ck critically. He was incredibly hard and it didn’t
even look like his full size. It was difficult to imagine he could fit in anyone in
that state, let alone my tiny mouth. Licking my lips, I did as he’d said and bent,
taking his sheathed length in my hands with great difficulty. Paul’s hands gripped
my arse, steadying me as I went to work.
Stroking along the shaft, I felt him grow harder, thicken between my hands. He
gripped a clump of my hair and steadily began to rock inside my hand. Without
waiting too long, I put him into my mouth, grazing the crown with my front teeth.
He released a moan, trembling as he hit the back of my throat. For one crazy
second, I wondered what he tasted like and wished he wasn’t wearing a cond0m.
Crazy.
I had worked out a rhythm when I suddenly felt it: Luc was about to enter me from
behind.
I wasn’t really into anal, though Prince and I had once experimented once with a
díldo up my arse. Hell, most of the guys I slept with were supposed to be ‘safe’.
Anál was something out of a porno. And now here was this random guy dressed as
Carlisle Cullen trying to do it with me.
Surprisingly, the sensation was explosive. Invasive, but…the way he played with my
clít at the same time – Explosive.
Luc rubbed the tip of his c0ck against my pússy before running it against my anu$,
back and forth, lubing the tiny, puckered hole. Then I felt it: A finger sliding
right inside me. I made a strange noise of shock in my throat, the vibration in my
mouth transferring to Paul's c0ck in my mouth and making him groan with uninhibited
pleasure.
From what I could tell, Luc was using his middle finger, slicking it with my own
juices and plunging it into my as$. The sensation was strange and for a minute, all
I could do was concentrate on the fact that something was going into a hole that
was meant for an exit. He added another finger, simply massaging my sphincter
muscles for a long while, before easing another into me. Three fingers were up my
arse, doing something so forbidden I should’ve protested. But I didn’t. He was
thumbing my clít at the same time and it felt incredibly good.
I had neglected Paul and, unimpressed, he thrust into me violently, hitting the
back of my throat again and nearly making me gag. At that exact moment, Luc began
to enter me slowly; gently. I groaned from the fullness and painful sensation. He
reached around and rubbed my clít and I inadvertently jerked back against him,
causing his c0ck to fully penetrate me. Once he was settled deep inside, he began
to pummel against me, shocking the living hell out of me.
Paul exploded inside my mouth just then, pulling at my hair painfully. I just about
screamed the place down, begging them to fúck me to death, to make me cúm.
They did.
When it was over and Luc had pulled out, I realized that there was nothing I wanted
more than to feel a díck as big as Paul’s obviously was inside me.
I told him, still recovering from my massive climax. He grinned, a smile playing
across his lips.
“I think we can make that happen, Bella.”
Thank you, Stephenie Meyer, I thought gratefully as he led me back to the table.
All thoughts of Stephen had flown out the window.

7: In Which She Goes American Pie [The Book Club (18+ Only) [COM...]
7: In Which She Goes American Pie

*********************************************



“Janelle?” someone said from behind
me.

After shoving a whole shelf of baby
food into my trolley, the last thing I wanted to do was bump into someone I knew.
Baby food was my guilty pleasure and it was always embarrassing when people I knew
discovered that.

Reluctantly, I turned around,
pasting a smile on my face.

“Luc?” I sputtered incredulously,
nearly stepping back into the shelf and knocking down various brands of sanitary
wear.

The silver-haired man flashed me a
megawatt smile. “I thought it was you. How’ve you been?”

“I – I’ve been all right,” I
croaked out, reddening. “You?”

“Perfect. Are you coming this
week?”

I didn’t have to ask what he meant.
Looking into his darkened eyes, I knew exactly what he meant. The double entendre
was not lost on me.

Shaking my head quickly, I replied,
“No.”

“Sure about that?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Well, my brother would be very –”

“Daddy! Anna won’t gimme back my
Barbie!” a little girl screeched, running down the aisle toward us and propelling
herself at Luc. “Make her give it!”

“Daddy?” I said loudly.

He gave me an apologetic look
before extricating the girl from around his legs. “Marie, what did I tell you about
running in stores, huh?”

“Désolée, Papa.”

“Where’s Anna?”

“She ran off.”

“Tell her that Papa is calling
her.”

“Okay.” She started away in a
sprint.

“Don’t run,” Luc muttered. He
turned his smouldering gaze back to me. “That was my daughter.”

“So I gathered,” I said dryly,
glancing at his hand. “So where did you hide that last Friday?”

He looked down at the gold band
around his wedding finger. “Janelle, half the people there are married. It isn’t a
sin.”

“You could have at least told me,”
I told him. I shook my head, pushing the memory of him inside me out of my head.
“Anyway, it doesn’t matter. It was a mistake and it won’t happen again.”

“I’m truly sorry, if that’s what
you want to hear.” He shrugged. “But my wife knows where I am most Friday nights.”
“She probably thinks you’re reading War and Peace with other like-minded people,”
I snorted. “If only she knew.”

Luc surprised me by laughing. “War
and Peace? I’ve never cared for the book.” He leaned in. “I’m more of an erotica
guy. Words are so exciting, Janelle.”

“Go back to your wife, Luc. You
disgust me.”

I pushed my trolley past him,
glaring. He annoyed me by grinning back at me.

“See you soon, Janelle.”

“Sure,” I sneered over my shoulder.
“In your dreams.”

“What the fúck?” someone grunted,
after I ran my trolley into them.

“Oh shít, sorry,” I swiftly
apologised, stepping back.

Just my fúcking luck, I thought
dismally when I saw who it was.

Stephen looked even more amazing
than the last time I’d seen him. In a simple checked flannel shirt and jeans, he
looked like a mirage. I had the sudden urge to throw him down and fúck him in the
toiletry section of Morgan’s. This, of course, was out of the question, since the
last time he saw me, we argued over who had given who a disease.

“Janelle,” he said monotonously,
glancing into my trolley. “Had a baby recently?”

Heat crept up my neck. “It’s mine.”

“Baby food?”

“I like it, OK?” I snapped
defensively.

“OK, OK,” he said, holding his
hands up in surrender. “How’s it going these days?” His tone was awkward. I didn’t
like it.

“Good. You?”

“Good.”

“How’s Plaisir?”

He shrugged. “Business as usual.
How’s work at the paper?”

“Fantastic, thank you.”

His hands were now in his pockets.
“Great. Well, I guess I’ll…see you around?”

“Yeah. Yes. Of course.”

He moved to go past me then doubled
up with laughter seconds later.

“What’s so funny?” I asked,
offended.

Hysterical, he straightened up.
“Sorry…it’s just that…the last time I saw you, I was mad at you for potentially
giving me…an infection,” he gasped, wiping tears away from his eyes. “How stupid is
that?”

“So…so you didn’t get it?” I asked
hesitantly.

“Nope. My doc gave me the all
clear, thank God.”

So why was I feeling awful for you?
I thought, now angry for beating myself about it. I had spent sleepless nights
praying to God that Stephen’s tests would be negative.

“Did you find out who gave it to
you, though?”

“Shut up.”

“No, seriously, I’m curious.”

Oh, I just got it from my gay
roommate.

“What matters is that I’m in the
clear and I’m never screwing anyone without –” I paused, catching myself. “Why am I
even talking about this?”

“It’s a mystery Sherlock would want
to solve,” Stephen continued. “Who gave Janelle an STD? Elementary, my dear
Stephen,” he said in his best Sherlock voice.

“You’re stupid and I’m leaving,” I
said, smiling despite myself and starting to walk away.

“Hey! Janelle!” he called out after
me.

I turned.

“Maybe we should celebrate your
improved health.”

I took a deep breath, my insides
clenching. “What do you have in mind?”






“I have to apologise for what I
said the last time we saw each other.”

I shrugged, shielding my eyes from
a passing car’s headlights. “It’s cool.”

“Nah, it’s not.” Stephen suddenly
took my hand. “We have to cross the road here.”

It felt surprisingly good to hold
his hand. It was soft, but not too soft. Like a softball glove, it swallowed mine
up. I felt positively elfin.

“Where are we going?”

“Janelle, for one second, will you
just trust me?”

I found myself rolling my eyes.
“This isn’t a movie. Don’t get cheesy on me.”

He chuckled. “Would I be correct in
assuming that you’ve missed me?”

I wriggled my hand out of his. “I
hardly know you, Stephen. For all I know, you could be taking me to this unknown
location to either hack me into fish-sized pieces, or to rape me.”

This time, he roared with laughter.
“OK, firstly, I’m not a serial killer. I’ve had many opportunities – not to mention
reasons – to kill you. And secondly, we both know I don’t need to take you by
force.”

I felt a tug in my abdomen at the
sound of those words. It was funny how being with two guys at once couldn’t compare
to the sensation caused just by the sound of this man’s voice.

Nell, stop thinking these dangerous
thoughts.

When I’d told Prince that I was
going out tonight, his eyebrows had shot up into heaven. He didn’t ask where I was
going, or who with, but I told him anyway.

“The guy from the book club? Does
he want to go over a book with you?”

I still hadn’t informed Prince of
the book club’s true focus. I wanted it to stay that way. Knowing Prince, he’d want
to tag along and the awkwardness that still permeated our relationship would become
even worse.

“Maybe,” I replied noncommittally,
and dashed out the door.

Since I felt that knowing where I
lived was a bit too personal, I suggested that Stephen and I meet at Plaisir.

“Is this a date?” I asked the
question I’d wanted to ask since he’d asked if he could pick me up.

I couldn’t see his expression in
the darkness.

“Does it feel like one?”

“Beer inside your car and a walk
through a strange park doesn’t constitute as one, so I’d say no.” I bit my lip.
“Besides, we can’t. Go on a date, I mean.”

“You’re not my type anyway.”

“Excuse me?” A pang of hurt jolted
through me.

“I like my women non-slutty, thank
you very much.”

I smacked his arm as he laughed.
“Díck.”

“Whóre.”

“Cúntface.”

“Cócktease.”

I snorted. “I am not a cócktease.”

“Oh yes, you are.”

“Is pússytease a word?”

Stephen let out a loud bark of
laughter. “I’m pretty sure it’s not – but are you calling me one?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“We’re here.”

I stopped in my tracks. “I didn’t
know there was a lake here,” I said, gazing out at the moonlit expanse of water.

“Not that many people do, thanks to
the huge fúcking building over there,” Stephen said, bending down.

All of a sudden, I was soaked in
water.

“What the hell’s your problem?” I
yelped as he backed away from me.

Squatting, I scooped up water in my
palms – and was pushed right into it.

“Stephen, you díck,” I squealed,
spitting out the lake water that had managed to get into my mouth.

“My bad,” he said laughingly,
reaching out for my hand. “You OK?” He pulled me to my feet.

“I have to get you back,” I replied
and he instantly backed away from me. “You know what this reminds me of?” I asked.
“High school.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Skinny-dipping.” Feeling bold, I
pulled my drenched wife beater over my head, goosebumps already prickling my skin.
The lake definitely couldn’t be mistaken for a hot tub.

Stephen stared at me. “When you
skinny-dipped in high school…did you ever get butt naked, or was it an underwear-
only type of event?”

“Oh, butt naked. Only chickens wore
underwear,” I informed him, shimmying out of my soaked jeans. “So, Mr. Ritter, you
up for a swim?”

“I’ll watch.”

“Suit yourself,” I said, unhooking
my bra. There was something exciting about being naked on a starry night in front
of an incredibly sexy guy and knowing that I hadn't infected him with Chlamydia.

My panties were next to go, joining
the rest of my clothing on the soft grass. Now completely naked, I spun around and
dipped a foot into the water. After being unceremoniously shoved in, I was pretty
much already used to the temperature.

When the water was at my waist,
Stephen approached the edge.

“The reason why I haven’t been at
the book club probably has something to do with you, Janelle,” he said casually,
digging the toe of his Converse into the grass. “I guess I was a little jealous of
the guy that gave you an infection because it meant that there was someone else.
Stupid, isn’t it?”

I threw my head back and laughed.
“He’s gay.”


“The guy…the guy I got it from. My
roommate. He’s gay.”

“And you sleep with him?”

“Slept. Past tense.”

“Well, you’re extremely weird.”

“Go back to the part where you were
jealous,” I said, splashing him with water.

He laughed. “Stop.”

“Or what?”

“You know what? Fuck it.” Stephen
waded out to me, spattering me with the icy, cold water.

When he finally stopped the
bombardment, I pulled him in for a kiss. It was all I’d wanted to do that night;
feel his lips against mine, his tongue exploring my mouth.

Wrapping his arms around me, he
pulled me closer, his hands underwater, firmly on my buttocks.

“I’ve missed this body,” he groaned
into my mouth, pressing his hardness against me.

“I’ve missed yours too.” Threading
my hands in his hair, I felt his fingers stray to my pússy. His touch was addictive
and I’d missed my fix. “Yes, yes, yes…” I breathed, giving him full permission.

His fingers became magical; playing
with my lips and rubbing my clít. Just the lightest touch made me purr like a
kitten.

“Come on,” he growled into my ear.
“We should get out. I need you.”

And he picked me up and flung me
over his shoulder, beginning the slow wade back to the bank.

“In my pocket,” I murmured as he
set me on the grass and ripped his T-shirt off. “I have one in my pocket.”

Digging into my jeans pockets,
Stephen laughed, taking out the foil packet. “So you automatically assumed you’d
get laid?”

“A girl can only hope.”

"Well, this girl's lucky then," he
said huskily, kneeling down and kissing my nose. His lips migrated down my neck.
"Lucky neck," he said, moving down to my chest. "Lucky breasts... Lucky tummy...
And finally...lucky pússy."

I arched my back as his tongue
flickered inside me.

"Oh, fúck, yes! Yes, yes, yes,
yes!"

He stuck one finger inside me,
increasing the ecstasy. Both his tongue and probing finger mercilessly sliced into
me, massaging my inner walls. He nudged my swollen clít, tortured me. I couldn't
help but come all over his face with a resonating scream.

Gingerly sitting up, I watched as
he raised his head and unzipped his fly. It was unreal to be fúcking each other
again in the real world when it was supposed to be strictly book club.

Stephen guided my hand to the
weeping head of his cóck. "You see what you do to me, Janelle? Even after almost
giving me an STD." Chuckling softly, I felt the swelling of his balls and wanted
only to relieve him. His c0ck jumped at my touch.

"Not fúcking funny," I murmured,
squeezing his díck.

He groaned in surprise, falling
onto his back. “Fúck.”

“That's right. Fúck me, Stephen.” I
stroked along his shaft, grazing it with my fingernails. The veins were pulsing
beneath my fingertips, blood coursing to the angry red tip. “Mmm... Feel good?”

"Not one bit," he choked, grabbing
the condom packet off the grass.

"Hurry, Stephen," I mewed,
surprised by how much I wanted him.

A few seconds later, I got on top
of him, impaled by his erection. Stephen’s hands were gripping my waist as I rode
him, hard and fast. It was going to be a quick fúck. There was nothing else for it.

Uninhibited, our noises mingled
together as one, a cacophony of erotic groans and moans. My hands palmed his damp
chest and I leaned forward, picking up the pace and only aware of the man
underneath me. All thoughts of our location and the time of night were lost.

Until, as I screamed his name and
came apart all over him, a light was shone in our faces.

"This is private property," the man
said calmly.

"Oh, fúck off," I yelled, on the
brink of another orgasm. Almost there... Almost...

"Ma’am, sir, I'm going to have to
ask you to –”

"Stephen!" I wailed, coming so hard
I dug my nails in his chest and drew blood.

“You're...you're under arrest,” the
officer said quietly.
8: In Which She Finds a Fantasy [The Book Club (18+ Only) [COM...]

8: In Which She Finds a Fantasy

**********************


“Thanks again,” I said for the
hundredth time, glancing in Prince’s direction.

“Don’t mention it,” Prince replied
gruffly, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel.

A long moment of silence elapsed
and his Toyota seemed to become smaller.

“So that was Book Club Guy,” he
said casually. Too casually. “I thought he’d be more... bookish.”

“Bookish?”

“You know, look like he actually
read?”

I let out a shot bark of laughter.
“Prince, no books were involved in last night’s...private meeting.” Glancing out
the window, I saw that the sun was just beginning its flight across the horizon.
Prince’s wristwatch beeped that it was five a.m.

“You two are dating?”

He had asked that exact same
question at the station when he’d come to bail me out. He and Stephen had glared at
each other like two bulldogs in a ring.

This time, I was annoyed. “You know
what? You have no right to question me about my love life after what you did to
me.”

“After what I did to you?” He threw
me a glare. “I don’t remember ever taking you without your consent.”

“Yeah, well, it won’t happen again.
Trust me. Have you found a new apartment?”

“I’m moving out at the end of this
month.”

“Great.”

“Yeah. Great.”

The rest of the car ride went by in
silence.






“So I haven’t heard from you in a
week and I was worried that your dad might’ve murdered you when you two got home,”
Stephen said.

I readjusted my phone in the crook
of my shoulder while I stirred the chicken curry. “Oh, he tried,” I replied with a
laugh. My “dad” was currently on the couch watching an episode of 1000 Ways to Die
and chain-smoking. We’d made up after our little ‘fight’ in the car and slept in.

“The guy’s a díck,” Stephen let me
know, sounding extra vehement over the phone.

“No, he’s not. Besides, he thinks
you’re cute – just not his type,” I teased, giggling.

“Shut up.”

“Oooh... make me,” I childishly
retorted.

“I shouldn’t even be talking to
you.”

I bit my lip. “Why not?”

“Because you could be reading The
Holy Grail and I’d still get hard. Hasn’t anyone told you that your voice
is...well, sexy?”

“Really?” I had to laugh. “Hey, no
wonder I get all kinds of special favours! It must be my voice box!”

“Ha-ha. Very funny. I know I sound
like a pussy but I’m serious.” Stephen paused. “Where are you?”

“At home... and I bet you’re still
at the restaurant.”

“Correct. I’m rotting away in my
office like a – Janelle, what are you wearing?”

I let out another laugh. “Talk
about a short attention span!”

“Just give me a visual,” he
insisted.

“Well, I always cook butt naked,
which is why having guests is always a big –”

“Wench.”

“And you love it. Hang on a sec.” I
padded into the living room. “Prince, please watch the stove. Dinner’s cooking.”

He looked up at me. “But my show –”

“Thank you, babe!” I sang over my
shoulder, scampering off to my room. I slammed the door shut and locked it,
flopping onto my bed. “Stephen, you there?” I said into the phone.

“So what are you making?”

“Shut up about that,” I told him,
smiling. “I’m wearing a dress. And no, it’s not backless or sexy. I’m a little
journalist.”

“What colour is it?”

“Blue. No. Turquoise.”

“Is your hair up?”

“Down. Brushing my shoulders. I
washed it today.”

“I love your hair. You know that
weird hair-fetish guy from Charlie’s Angels?” He laughed out loud. “I might be that
guy.”

“You’re starting to creep me out,”
I replied with a smile. “Stephen...we were strictly supposed to see each other at
the book club.”

“We’re on the phone. Technically,
we’re not seeing each other.”

“Yeah, I know,” I conceded, “but we
shouldn’t be.”

“And who made that rule up?”
Stephen said, and I could tell he was becoming exasperated with me.

“It’s not a rule. I just –”

“Janelle, close your eyes,” he
commanded, cutting me off.

I bit back a waspish response.
“Fine.”

“Now, listen to my voice,” he said
gently. “If I were there in your bedroom right now... what would you want me to do
to you?”

I sniggered. This man never ceased
to make me – a self-christened nympho – blush. “What would I want you to do to me?
I don’t know.”

“You’re a writer; you’re supposed
to be good at expressing yourself.”

“I am.”

“Then tell me.”

I took a deep breath. “OK. I’ll be
honest,” I said, digging my toes into the bed. “I would want your díck inside me.
No brainer.”

“Jeez, Janelle – what happened to
foreplay?”

“You asked,” I laughed.

Stephen cleared his throat. “I
would want my díck inside you too. Fúcking save me from staring at these books in
this goddamn office.”

“Would you like to come over?”

Do I really want him knowing where
I live?

“Would you like me to?”

“I’d like that very much.”






“Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” I said.

“This is the part where you invite
me in.”

I stepped aside. “I was getting to
that.”

“Nell, who’s at the...door.” Prince
said the last part monotonously as he came up behind us. “Oh, hello. Sean, is it?”

“Prince, you know very well what
his name is,” I said loudly, shooting him a glare.

“It’s all right, Janelle,” Stephen
said, placing a hand on my arm.

I grabbed his hand and dragged him
to my bedroom. “He’s really starting to act like a díck,” I mumbled, slamming my
bedroom door shut. No wonder he got on Erin’s nerves. I glanced at Stephen, who was
currently fascinated by my teddy bear collection on the window sill. “I don’t play
with those anymore,” I told him, reddening.

He chuckled. “I didn’t say
anything.”

“Yeah, well, I could see the
judgment in your eyes.”

“You’ve clearly mistaken pure,
unadulterated desire for… judgment,” he said gently, placing his hands on my waist.
“You lied to me.”

“About?”

“This dress,” he breathed, stroking
my bare shoulders, “is sexy.”

“Then why don’t you remove it?” I
spun around, pushing him against my door. “Unless you’re shy?”

“Me? Shy?” He snorted. “Stephen
Andrew Ritter does not get shy.”

He grabbed the cotton fabric of my
dress and ripped the front apart.

I squealed, stepping back. “This
was one of my favourites!”

“I thought I was your favourite,”
he said, pulling me back to him. My knees buckled when he leaned in and kissed me.
“You taste like… curry,” he murmured into my mouth.

“Shut up.” I shoved my hands down
his pants. “He’s my favourite.” I squeezed.

He grabbed my right breast and,
through my bra, pinched my nipple. “I thought you didn’t want foreplay.”

“I don’t. Because I’m so fúcking
horny it would be torture,” I said softly, groaning as he tweaked my other nipple
against my lace bra. “Stephen, stop…”

“You are my hostage now, Janelle,”
he said softly, and I heard the key turn behind us. “I can do whatever the fúck I
want to you.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“Get onto the bed and I’ll show
you.”

“Will I be satisfied?”

“Maybe. Or maybe I’ll just be mean
and disappear when you’re right on the edge,” he said. “Your little roommate could
finish the job.”

“Do I detect a hint of jealousy in
that statement?” I got onto my back, unabashedly lying spread-eagled.

“I don’t get jealous.” He grabbed
my ankle and lifted my leg into the air, pulling me until I was at the edge of my
bed. “Flexible.”

“I aim to please. Shít, why don’t
you just bring that big c0ck of yours over here and let me keep it warm?” I said in
frustration, trembling as he began to stroke his way towards my already soaked
panties.

He pressed against my pússy.
“You’re extremely wet.” He hooked a hand into my knickers and pulled, ripping it
clean off. “Touch yourself.”


“Pleasure yourself, Janelle. Show
me exactly what you like,” he prompted in a gentle voice. He pulled up a chair
before my legs and took a seat.

I had never masturbated for anyone,
not even Prince. The one time we’d done anything was with his dildo. A complete
bust. He probably didn’t even know I owned my own and masturbated. Quite frankly,
that was all right with me. Touching oneself was supposed to be a private act, in
my opinion, yet here was Stephen asking me to do just that. Touch myself. For him.

Well, my clít was throbbing.

Closing my eyes, I brought my hands
to my pússy and pressed a cautious finger against the pulsing nub that was my clít.
I was already wet so it was more than easy to slide two fingers inside, finding my
most sensitive place. I usually never made a sound – on account of Prince being
next door – but this time, I did. Moaning and arching my back as I stuck a third
finger inside my cúnt, imagining that it was Stephen fúcking me like this with his
c0ck, I climaxed into my hand on a loud wail.

When I opened my eyes and sat up, I
found that Stephen hadn’t moved an inch.

Now what? I thought, still gasping
for air.

Without saying a word, he climbed
on top of me, breathing heavily. His cóck was pressed against my thigh, stiff and
desperate. He hungrily unsnapped my bra while I undid his fly. Fumbling quickly, he
removed a condom and sheathed himself, promptly entering me, bigger than I
remembered. A sharp twinge of pain shot through me and quickly turned into a wave
of pleasure. Stephen’s mouth was everywhere – on my mouth, my neck, my ears -
dishing out pleasure with his voracious tongue. He thrust into me viciously, almost
angrily; gripping my bed sheet in his hands, bracketing my face with his forearms.

“Now,” he breathed into my ear,
grabbing a hank of my hair and pulling.

I yowled, arching off the bed. He
came harshly, setting off my own release.



“I love you,” he whispered, pulling
out and rolling over to his side to take care of the condom.

I bit my bottom lip. “I need a
cigarette.”

Rolling out of bed, I grabbed my
bathrobe, slipped it on and slid out my room.

“You guys weren’t even trying to
keep it down,” Prince complained when I walked into the living room. He was puffing
on his millionth Marlboro.

“Gimme that.” I launched myself
onto the couch and snatched it from him, pressing it to my lips before he could
protest.

“You’ve never been that loud with
me.”

“We’re not supposed to talk about
us boinking, remember?”

“Right. My apologies.” He rolled
his eyes. “So do you love him?”

I shivered. “I don’t know what that
is.”

“Does he love you?”

I stood up. How uncanny was it that
he’d be asking this right after Stephen said those very words? “Okay, we are not
discussing this. At all. Goodnight.”

“Oh, come on! I’m bored!
Threesome?”

Idiot, I said to myself, opening my
bedroom door.

“What are you doing?” I asked,
watching as Stephen pulled on the jacket of his suit. He was now fully dressed,
looking like he hadn't just fúcked me in my bed. “I thought you were… I don’t know
– spending the night?”

“Janelle, forget what I said after…
you know, sex? I meant platonically, like I love you, man. Thanks for the great
fúck,” he said gruffly, buttoning up his shirt. “I gotta get back to work.”

“Thanks for the great fúck?” I
splutter in disbelief.

His eyes met mine. “Yeah.”

“And I should forget you just told
me that you love me?”

“Yeah.”

I might love you too but I’m scared
because I don’t know if I’m good at loving people.

“Okay then,” I said slowly. “Thanks
for stopping by.”

“Anytime.” He stooped slightly and
pecked my forehead. “I’ll let myself out.”

After he left, I felt the
overwhelming urge to break something.

It could have also been the
disturbing feeling that I had just stepped on something good and broken it.

9: In Which She Wears Black [Part I] [The Book Club (18+ Only) [COM...]
9: In Which She Wears Black

[Part I]
*********************************
“Stella told me you were in here,” I said, leaning against the doorjamb.
Stephen turned to look at me, wielding a kitchen knife. “I specifically told her
not to tell anyone.”
“I think she’s afraid of me. I might have gone mental on her a while back,” I
admitted sheepishly, stepping into the kitchen. “What are you making?”
“A snack,” he mumbled, returning to chopping what I discovered was salami. “I think

my accountant’s a fúcking skunk so I have a feeling I’m going to be here going
through the books for aeons. What are you doing here?”
I ignored his menacing tone. “Someone told me this place has the best burgers
but... I’ve never had one.”
“Then I don’t know what you’re doing back here. The restaurant’s up front.”
“Stephen, don’t be like this,” I said softly, setting my bag on a lone stool.
“Like what, Janelle?” He turned to face me, brandishing the knife in his hand like
a sword, his eyes blazing. “Like I don’t give a shít? What are we even doing?
Having fun? A dysfunctional relationship? Playing let’s-pretend like in book club?
What?”
My eyes became slits. “Don’t raise your voice at me like I’m a child.”
“Well, you sure act like one,” he grunted out.
My hand flew out and slapped him, the sound resonating in the empty kitchen.
“You’re behaving like one right now, throwing a tantrum over nothing.”
He snorted, slamming the knife onto the counter. “A tantrum?”
I shoved him. “I don’t know what we’re doing, OK? I don’t.”
Stephen grabbed my wrists. “Don’t play with fire. You’re beginning to piss me off.
I was quietly making a fúcking sandwich and then you just –”
“Then make your stupid sandwich.” I tried to free my arms. “Stephen, let me go.”
“Will you fúck off if I do?”
“I don’t like you very much.”
He pulled me towards him. “Don’t lie.” Releasing my arms, he backed me up against

the counter with his body.
I felt the familiar pull in my abdomen whenever I was around Stephen Ritter. I
tried to do everything in my power to fight it. By hitting him. Again. And again.
The feeling of my fist making contact with his chest did little to express the
anger I felt at him for saying that he loved me. Saying it and then taking it back.
“Go away,” I growled at him.
“You go away. This is my kitchen.”
“Then let me!”
Instead, he slammed his mouth against mine and snaked his arms around my waist.
Everything in me said that I should push him away and run but I didn’t. Instead, I
found myself running my hands up his shirt and clawing at his back like a yowling
cat. I pushed him against a wall and unzipped him, panting like a dog. His hands
hiked up the hem of my dress, cupping my bare buttocks.
“No underwear, Janelle?”
I moaned when his fingers parted my pússylips and slid inside me. “Isn’t it better
this way?” I countered, leaning into his hand and nibbling on his bottom lip.
He groaned, moving his fingers about and pressing his thumb flat against my
clítoris.
Why was I mad again? What did I come here for?
With no preamble, Stephen picked me up and impaled me on the hard length of his
c0ck, ramming into me with such force I let out a scream of both pain and pleasure.
I relished it, revelled in it.
“I’m still annoyed with you,” he grunted into my mouth, beginning the quick tempo
of his slide and retreat into me. My back was slammed into the wall repeatedly and
the impact took my breath away
Threading my hands in his hair, I felt myself reach the edge of a backbreaking
orgasm. It was so soon; so soon and so perfect. “Yes,” I cried out, grabbing a
clump of his thick, messy hair. “Be mad at me!”
The thought of one of Stephen’s employees – or anyone, for that matter – walking in
only intensified my arousal. In fact, I yearned for someone to walk in and find the
owner of the restaurant with his díck buried inside me. The image of it forced an
immense eruption from me, and I arched my back away from the cold wall, wailing
like a banshee. Stephen spurted inside me seconds later, biting into my exposed
shoulder. The pain was both sweet and welcome.
In that moment, I felt absolutely adored. He worshipped my body and, if I let him,
he would worship me. Something like genuine joy floated in my chest.
Just as I was about to say something he would regret, the door was pushed open with
so much force that it banged against the wall. Stephen lazily pulled out of me,
setting me onto the ground.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I snarled between pants and gasps, staring in
disbelief at the last person I’d ever expected to be standing in the doorway.
“I could ask him the same question,” Stephen muttered, zipping up.
“While I find this extremely sexy, you two, I’ve got bad news,” Prince said softly
after a long moment of awkward silence elapsed. He met my eyes. “Janelle,” he
continued, approaching me, “Erin’s dead.”

“Don’t,” I whispered, shrugging Stephen’s hands off me.
I heard him sigh from behind me. “I’m not the enemy, Janelle.”
“Kindly fúck off.”
He was silent for a moment, taking a seat on the couch beside me. “I’m not too good
with grief,” he murmured, tapping his fingers on his lap, “but the service was...
amazing.”
I felt tears collect at the corners of my eyes, blurring my vision.
“I met her a few times. Fun girl.”
“Stephen, stop,” I pleaded.
“You haven’t said shit, Janelle. And you need to, that much I know. You need to
have a good fúcking cry!”
I jumped to my feet, incensed. “I need to do this? I need to do that? Who the hell
do you think you are, huh? Dr. Phil? Oprah?” I choked out. “My best friend since
forever killed herself and I don’t know why! What does that make me? A doorpost,
that’s what! A dumb fúcking doorpost!”
Stephen stood up and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into an embrace. “You
can’t blame yourself, Janelle.”
The tears came in one wave and wouldn’t go. Sobbing, I held onto Stephen as tightly
as I could, images of Erin flashing through my brain like a slideshow. I hadn’t
seen her in a week or so and the guilt was eating away at me like a disease. If I
had just rung her up… If I had just stepped out of my little Stephen-cocoon for
only a little while… She hadn’t come into work and I hadn’t even phoned her! It
didn’t matter that she always did things like this, disappear for days with a man.
It didn’t matter because now she was dead.
The fact that she was alone in this world – no family, no real friends, no actual
boyfriend – hit home and I couldn’t bear to watch her casket get lowered into the
ground. Prince was taking care of everything after I’d stormed out of the church
and ended up being chased home by Stephen. Erin would’ve been incensed that her
least favourite person in the world was overseeing her funeral.
Why? I asked myself. Why did someone as vivacious as Erin commit suicide?
It didn’t make any sense to me. It didn’t make sense to anyone. I hadn’t wanted to
hear the coroner’s findings but Prince had let me know that she’d been the one to
end her life.
“You’re probably tired,” Stephen whispered into my ear.
I pulled away from him, violently wiping away my tears. “I’ve ruined your suit.”
“That’s OK. Phlegm washes out.”
I let out a laugh, startled.
“Come.” He gave me a small smile, and he led me to the bedroom.
I wasn’t too preoccupied to forget what had happened the last time he’d been in my
room. Tears stained my cheeks and blurred my vision. This was a sensory overload.
There are two things that can help with grief.
Crying.
Or good sex.
I needed both. Stephen wasn’t too happy about the last one.
“Stop pretending that you don’t want it,” I told him, pushing him against the wall.
He groaned. “Janelle, you’re still –”
My hand slipped down the front of his pants, grabbing his stiffness. “Please. I
need to forget. Just for a little while.”
“This is unhealthy.” His eyes turned skyward. “You need to…to let this all out.”
“And just what is this, huh?” I snapped, gently stroking him. He was leaning into
my hand, wanting more. “My best friend is dead. Boo-fúcking-hoo.”
He took my hand out his pants. “Bed.”
I didn’t resist when he led me there. The copy of Jane Eyre that Erin had loaned me
was on the nightstand, dog-eared and forlorn. I looked away from it. It was too
painful.
“Close your eyes,” Stephen gently commanded as I lay back on the bed. He pulled my
pumps off, discarding them on the carpet. “You can cry in front of me, Janelle. You
know that, right?” Delicately, he removed my pantyhose, placing it on the bed. His
fingers brushed my bare legs. “I’m sorry about Erin. She seemed like a character.”
I was afraid to laugh in case it turned into a sob. “You don’t know the half of
it.” My eyes flashed open when I felt his lips on my toes. “What are you doing?”
“Would you please close your eyes?”
I obliged him. The touch of his lips making their way up my bare legs was like a
salve to the red hot ache searing through my body. But was it enough? Would
anything ever be enough?
Stephen’s hands began to massage my feet. He knew what he was doing as he worked
them. I was momentarily stunned – no guy had ever rubbed my feet – and certainly
not in such a situation. I couldn’t help but purr in ecstasy.
And then the tears began.
Erin loved massages, the whore.
Would everything remind me of my best friend? Would I ever stop the waterworks?
I felt a depression beside me as Stephen sank into the mattress, winding his arms
around me. “I love you, Nell,” he said soothingly, rubbing my shoulders.
I cried.

9: In Which She Wears Black [Part II] [The Book Club (18+ Only) [COM...]
9: In Which She Wears Black

[Part II]
**********************
“No offence, but Erin was a freak,” Prince remarked. He quickly looked skyward. “A
gorgeous one, rest in peace.”
“Shut it, Prince,” I cautioned, shoving a whole shelf of sex toys into a big black
refuse bag I’d mentally labelled ‘RUBBISH’. Who would want second-hand dildos?
“Jan, if you don’t mind my asking... why isn’t her family packing her stuff up?”
“Because I’m her family,” I snapped, losing my patience with him. If he didn’t want
to help me pack up Erin’s place, why did he come?
I should’ve just called Stephen, I thought, then dispelled the thought with a shake
of my head.
Our relationship, whatever it was, was already extremely compromised. I didn’t need
to be further complicating things by having him present for something so personal.
Prince, fortunately, got the hint and began to pack things up in silence. Maybe I
shouldn’t have invited him either. I knew for a fact that Erin didn’t particularly
like him and would probably be rolling in her grave watching him touch her
underwear. The thought gave me a giggle. Prince looked up from a box he was
sealing, arching a brow.
I turned my attention to Erin’s bookshelf. She’d always been a reader, especially

in college, although her interest – much to my dismay – was mainly in Mills & Boon
novels, books I’d abandoned in high school. Even now, I spotted a few well-thumbed
erotica books in her reading list. The sight brought a smile to my face.
“Jan? Uh, I think you should see this...” Prince’s voice trailed off.
“What?” I strode around the bed and peeked at what he was holding. “You shouldn’t
be digging in –”
“Shut up; I wasn’t digging.” He shoved the pamphlet into my hand. “I was trying to
empty this drawer.”
Adopting from Russia: What Single Parents Should Know
“She didn’t mention this to you?” Prince asked me.
I squeezed my eyes shut. “Her lifestyle wasn’t exactly child-friendly.”
“You might have to consider the fact that you probably didn’t know her,” Prince
said softly, closing the drawer.
“Thanks,” I whispered, knowing how true his words were. “Thanks for making me feel
so much better.”
There was something I had to do.

It was time to read the coroner’s
report and when I finally did, there was absolutely no closure. Accidental
overdose, they said. Accidental? Erin had accidentally taken one too many sleeping
pills? How did they know that? Were they there the evening she’d decided to dip
into her stash of pills?
But perhaps that was what I needed to quell the overwhelming guilt I felt inside –
confirmation that she hadn’t wanted to go. This guilt was only heightened when I
made dialled the number at the back of the Russian orphanage’s brochure. A woman
called Sasha Romanov confirmed that yes, Erin Thomas had been interested in
adopting; had even been planning a trip to Moscow very soon. I’d had the
displeasure of informing her of Erin’s untimely demise.
“That is awful,” Sasha had said in a heavily-accented voice. “We’d never met, of
course, but she sounded so...so vivacious. I could tell that she was desperate for
a child. I am sorry for your loss, Miss Jones.”
How could Erin not have told me something major like that? Was I that horrid a
friend?
Prince was right. I hadn’t known her at all. I wished I had.
“Janelle! Hi!” Tonight, Fiona was almost completely nude. “You look...you
look...great.”
“The theme is stupid,” I muttered as she led me downstairs.

“Yes, well, it was suggested reading material.” She giggled. “I think even we
grown-ups want to believe in magic.”
You’ve got that right, I thought, shaking my head at the sound of several ‘I’m
coming, Harry! Oh shít, yes, yes, yes! Avada Kedavra my pússy!’ wails.
Fiona scuttled away like a horny field mouse. I licked my lips, praying that
Stephen wouldn’t make an appearance and make this any more awkward than it had to
be. Whatever he thought I was to him, he certainly didn’t own me. We weren’t
exclusive.
“You certainly know how to make an appearance,” a familiar voice said from behind
me.
I rolled my eyes and turned around. “Uh-oh, you can see me? Cheap fúcking
Invisibility Cloaks. Screw up every time.”
Luc let out a bellow of laughter. “Chérie, your sense of humour is satisfying.”
Leaning forward, he whispered: “But your complete nudity is distracting.”
I fully pushed away the thought that he was married and that I knew now. “Where’s
your brother?” I asked, a smile spreading across my face.
“You think we are a package deal?” Luc scoffed, his hands eagerly stroking the skin
of my stomach. “Trust me, chérie, I am twice the man for you.”
“And are you supposed to be a tall, bright and handsome version of Hagrid?” I
teased, while he moved forward and pinched one of my nipples.
“I kind of...didn’t get the memo that we were supposed to dress up as characters
from a kids’ book.” Judging from the casual jeans and T-shirt he was in, I could
only agree. He tilted my chin upwards. “I don’t recall any nudity.” He brought his
lips to mine. I parted them for his tongue to enter. “You taste of...wine,” he
breathed. “Are you drunk, my darling?”
“Don’t be silly. Just touch me.” I grabbed his hand and placed it against my pússy.
“No screwing, just this.”
He shrugged, parting my pússylips. “If you say so.”
“Oh, I say so,” I purred, holding on to him for dear life.
He began to rub my clít in circular motions, slowly at first, which annoyed me.
However, as he picked up the pace, I felt my body instantly respond; the need to
release was so great it engulfed me.
Amazing. His fingers really are magical.
Stephen’s face flashed before my eyes.
Just like that, I crashed back down to earth again and Luc felt it.
“What’s the matter?” he asked curiously, his fingers still inside me.
“Stop. Please,” I replied, and he obliged, but not before giving me a piece of his
mind.
“Merde! Just a few seconds ago you were practically begging me to finger-fúck you
and now you want me to stop?”
“I was doing this for a friend,” I said in a quiet voice. It sounded stupid when I
said it aloud.
“For a friend,” Luc repeated, frowning. “You are clearly not all there.”
“I’m sorry. I have to go.”
“Sure, sure. Cock-tease.”
I ignored him and made the humiliating walk back upstairs. What was I thinking? Was
going to the library butt-naked a tribute to my best friend?
Yes, a voice said in my head. With a start, I realised that it was Erin’s voice.
“I’m glad you can find humour in this, Er,” I whispered, pulling open my car door
and sliding in. I pulled my clothes back on in record time and started the car,
flicking the radio on.
There was only one person I wanted to see at that moment.

*

Naturally, Stephen lived in a house
and not an apartment. I didn’t know why I’d expected him to live in a shabby flat
with a dirty roommate that called him ‘bro’ – but I did, which was presumptuous of
me. Stella had given me the address, keeping a great distance between us as she did
so. I’d thought about apologising about my STD outburst but decided that there was
nothing to be sorry for.
And now I was sitting outside Stephen’s house like a predator.
Do I really want to know where he lives? What happened to our boundaries?
“Fúck this,” I hissed, grabbing my bag and getting out the car. I looked up at the
starlit sky. “Erin, I hope you’re watching. I love you.” I chose the biggest,
brightest and most ostentatious star and decided that that was her. It comforted
me.
Stephen’s neighbourhood was one of the fanciest but their security was almost
nonexistent. Most of the houses didn’t even have fences or gates, although they
looked like they cost a thick wad. Weren’t they afraid of thieves literally just
walking up to their front door?
Stop analysing household security.
I took a deep breath and knocked on the front door, taking an expectant step back.
Almost instantly, footsteps resounded and the door was wrenched open.
“Janelle?” Stephen stared at me in disbelief. “Is everything OK?”
“Yeah. May I come in? Please.”
He stepped aside, letting me pass. “Excuse my poor manners. I was just...in the
middle of something.” The door was closed behind me. “Follow me.”
My eyes were glued to his rear in his low-slung black jeans.
“I’m sorry for randomly dropping by but...you weren’t at Plaisir so Stella told me
–”
“Janelle, relax. You don’t have to explain yourself,” Stephen interjected,

motioning for me to sit down. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“I already had some wine so maybe...water?”
“You were drinking?”
“Just a glass,” I lied. More like half a bottle. I shouldn’t even have been
driving.
“Sure. Be right back.” Stephen disappeared.
I sat back in the couch and took in the living room. It wasn’t quite what I
expected. Men were usually bland when it came to decorating and making a house a
home. As a bachelor, Stephen definitely knew how to decorate – or knew someone who
knew how to decorate.
Landscape paintings dotted the ash-white walls. I recognised Monet-style oil

paintings; the rest went over my head. Old black-and-white photos of people I
assumed were his family sat proudly on the mantelpiece above the red brick
fireplace.
I glanced at the coffee table. The usual, expected literature – Arnold

Schwarzenegger’s Total Recall, FHM, NAG – and a few cookbooks by Jamie Oliver. A
smile tore across my face when I noticed the comic books underneath all the
‘mature’ reading material. Apparently, Stephen was into Archie and Tintin comic
books.
“You weren’t supposed to see those.”
I looked up with a start. Stephen set a tray of coffee and biscuits on the table,
beside his books.
“It’s cute,” I said truthfully. There were a lot of things about this man that were
just that. “You know, water was just fine.”
“You look like you could use some caffeine.”
“Huh. Thanks.”
“I’m not insulting you.” He laughed, taking a seat beside me. “You’ve just been
through a lot lately.”
I met his eye. “Thank you. For, you know, being there for me.”
“Anytime.” He cleared his throat. A look of horror crossed his face. “I don’t mean
that I hope there are more tragedies for me to –”
I placed a reassuring hand on his arm. “I know what you mean.” Retracting my hand,
I looked away. “What were you in the middle of?”
“Stupid football match,” he mumbled.

I gave him a curious look. “Oh? Who’s playing?”
“Uh...it’s FIFA ’13.” He got up and grabbed his console, reddening. “I’m just going
to turn it off.”
I let out a laugh. “Are you seriously embarrassed that I caught you playing on your
PlayStation?”
“I don’t want you to think I’m more of an idiot than you already think I am.”
“Where would you get that idea?”
Stephen’s brow furrowed. “You know, I get that this is just about sex to you but
for the love of God, Janelle, why do you keep sending me mixed signals?”
I felt heat stain my cheeks. “Mixed signals? Come on, Stephen. Grow the fúck up.”
He cursed under his breath. “This is why I didn’t want to say anything.”
“Well, you’ve said it!” I snapped. Before it could go any further, I bit my bottom
lip and apologised.
Stephen shrugged, staring at the black screen. “Whatever.”
“I don’t want you mad at me,” I whispered, stroking his arm.
He turned to me. “I’m not mad at you.”
“Good.” Screw coffee and cookies. I moved to straddle him, tightening my thighs
around his. “Can I make it up to you anyway?”
Stephen reached up and brushed a strand of hair out of my face. “You can do
whatever you want. I won’t stop you.”
I bent down and placed a kiss on his exposed collarbone.
“I’m too far gone for this,” Stephen muttered. Without any warning, he threw me
onto my back on the couch, positioning himself between my thighs. “Why did you come
over?” he queried, unbuttoning my blouse.
“To seduce you?” My breathing was becoming ragged. His touch scorched my skin.
“I doubt that.” His lips were on my uncovered belly. “Sweet Janelle, were you at
book club tonight, by any chance?”
I tensed. “What?”
Stephen chuckled, tracing a finger around my navel. “I’m just asking.”
“For a little while,” I confessed, huffing out a breath. “But there was no point.”
“What do you mean?” he asked quietly.
“Why didn’t you come?”
“I was busy, remember?” he countered, his hand stilling. “So you fúcked someone
else and now you want seconds?”
“Excuse me?” I screeched. “I didn’t fúck anyone tonight. Are you so fúcking dense
that you can’t see that the only guy I want is you?”
What the hell did you just say? I chastised myself, breathing heavily. It was the
closest thing I’d gotten to saying the three words I absolutely refused to say to
him.
“Clearly,” Stephen replied after a moment of silence passed. He smiled down at me.
“Aren’t you going to ask me how I knew you were there?” He casually unhooked my
bra.
I shook my head in response. “What matters is that I’m here, right?”
“Right,” he replied, and then his hot mouth was on my breast.
He took my nipple into his hot mouth, sucking on it like a baby. I let out a moan,
my hands threading his thick hair. With deft hands, he pulled my jeans off, rubbing
his bulge against me when they were off. His hands brushed my inner thigh and I
reacted immediately, trembling and clenching my cúnt.
His mouth gave the same attention to my other breast, his teeth grazing the already
hardened nub. It was unbelievable that Luc, whose hand had been in my cúnt just
over an hour ago, hadn’t been able to get me off but Stephen, who was only sucking
my tits, was pushing me towards the edge.
He raised his head and kissed my collarbone. “Bedroom?”
Warning bells rang in my head. Going into Stephen’s room would be so…so intimate.
But he’s been in yours. You want intimacy.
I nodded, watching him get off me. He reached down and took my hand in his, pulling
me to my feet and leading me to his room.
It was gorgeous, but I didn’t have time to admire the little Nate Berkus in him. He
slammed me against the wall, pressing himself against me for a passionate kiss.
Looping my arms around his neck, I wanted him to take me then and there; my desire
for him was so intense I couldn’t think straight.
He scooped me up and gripped my hips, allowing me to wrap my legs around him and
clench. I felt his body respond beneath me and when he gently lowered me onto his
bed, a wave of unwanted emotions passed over me.
You love him, Erin’s voice said in my head. She was always there now, both a
comfort and a nuisance.
Stephen tugged his T-shirt off and unzipped his jeans, standing over me. He arched
a brow. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Like what?” I murmured in response.
He shook his head once, getting onto the bed. “Nothing. Just kiss me.”
I closed the space between us and did as he wanted, sucking on his bottom lip. He
settled himself in between my thighs, feeling my wetness. “Much better than FIFA,”
he whispered, making me laugh.
The laughter turned into a hiss of pleasure when he suddenly pushed against my
opening, hard and insistent. I knew it was more than sex when his lips brushed my
earlobe. “I love your laugh,” he murmured, thrusting into me. “I love your smile.”
“Stop it,” I breathed, my nails digging into his shoulder blades. “Just stop.”
“Fúck it, Janelle,” he growled, slowing the tempo of his strokes. “I love you.” He
flipped me over so that I was on top and grasped my waist. “Punish me for admitting
it.”
I was going to explode any minute and he knew it. I couldn’t even admit that his
little “I love your this-and-that” was what was making me all fuzzy inside.
The sex ended up being better than I’d ever thought it could be. Climaxing
together, we were completely out of breath when he wrapped his arms around me post-
coital. At the back of my mind, something was telling me that there was a big
difference between ‘having sex’ and ‘making love’. Stephen had just shown me that.

***

Oh, shít.
“Stephen?” I called out, squinting in the sunlight. I kicked the stifling covers
off and slipped out the bed, grabbing the nearest piece of clothing I could get my
hands on – Stephen’s T-shirt from the previous night. It still reeked of his
cologne.
“Morning, Jay.” He stepped out the bathroom, dripping wet with a towel around his
waist. “How’d you sleep?”
“Fine,” I replied, rubbing at my temples with my index fingers. “Why didn’t you
wake me up?” I complained as he approached me. “I wasn’t supposed to spend the
night.”
“You weren’t?” he said, his eyes dancing. “Funny. You could’ve fooled me.” He
leaned in to kiss me but I backed away, horrified.
“You can’t!” I hissed. “I haven’t brushed my teeth.”
Stephen rolled his eyes at me. “Spare toothbrush in the bathroom. Knock yourself
out.”
“Oh, you just have a few spares for when women stay over, huh?” I muttered, pushing
past him and going into the bathroom.
“Really, Janelle? This early in the morning?”
I let out a heavy sigh, wiping a hand across the steamed-up mirror over the sink.
“Sorry. I’m not a morning person.” I grabbed what I figured was the ‘spare’
toothbrush and squirted a blob of toothpaste onto it.
Stephen came up behind me, winding his arms around my waist. “Just a night freak,”
he teased, kissing the nape of my neck.
His erection was pressing into the small of my back.
“Again?” I blurted out in disbelief before running the brush through my mouth.
When I bent down to spit, Stephen pulled up the shirt I was wearing.
“Shower,” I said huskily, now unable to ignore the stirring in my abdomen. “And
please, don’t drop the soap.”
He laughed, spinning me around. “Oh, I won’t – but you will.”

*

“Where the hell were you?” Prince
exploded when I finally walked through our front door.
“What did I do?” I asked, genuinely confused.
Prince was in a ridiculous-looking turquoise suit, his hair gelled and flattened to
his skull. “I had a wedding to get to but oh no, only about a dozen randoms wanted
to see the apartment so I couldn’t go,” he spat.
“You could’ve gone,” I told him, heading into the kitchen. He followed me.
“I was supposed to be out last month,” Prince whined, his anger evaporating. He
could never stay mad at me. “Nothing’s going my way…so if you still want me out,
please – just break it down to me.”
I was in the middle of slurping down the remainder of the mango juice we had in our
fridge, straight from the carton. I knew Prince found that particular habit of mine
disgusting but at that moment, I couldn’t care less.
“Babe, I don’t want you out. I would miss you, despite how you annoy the hell out
of me sometimes,” I said, giving him a real smile. This was true. I was learning
how important friendship was. “I know things have been rocky between us since the
whole Chlamydia episode but now we can laugh about it, right?”
“Ha-ha?” Prince offered, giving me a strange look. “Why do you look like the cat
that got all the jizz and cream?”
“Meow.”
“Okay, now my interest is piqued. Were you at a certain lakeside shag-buddy’s house
last night?” He leaned forward expectantly, waiting for my answer.
“Lakeside shag-buddy!” I exclaimed, giggling. “You’re hilarious!”

“Well?”
“I think I need to take a nap for a thousand years,” I replied, pushing past him
and skipping to my bedroom. “Goodnight, sweetie!”
“It’s four in the fúcking afternoon, Janelle!” he called after me.
Is it? I thought, wincing when I rolled onto my bed, my poor strained muscles
crying out.
Erin would’ve been proud of me.


10: In Which She Closes a Chapter [The Book Club (18+ Only) [COM...]
10: In Which She Closes a Chapter
**********************************
Author’s Note at the end =)
*******************************
“Where’ve you been, Jones?” Arthur Woodstock snapped, stubbing the butt of his
cigarette into the ashtray somewhere in the midst of his cluttered desk.
“Lunch,” I mumbled, taking the seat he offered me opposite his. Arthur was the
paper’s newest editor; a real arrogant prick no one liked. He enjoyed rejecting any
story the majority of us pitched on account of them being “boredom inducing”.
Actually, I’d been visiting Erin’s grave; I’d been there every Friday afternoon for
months now. It was strange how, whenever I ventured there, I found that someone had
already left lilies for her. To be honest, it gave me the creeps.
“Well, I got something special for you,” Woodstock said, his eyes gleaming. They
were almost black and beadier than a button.
“Yes?”
“You know that funky French restaurant everyone’s always raving about?” Woodstock
unwrapped the tinfoil of his sandwich. “Pleasure, I think.”
“Plaisir,” I corrected automatically. “What about it?”
“Uh-huh. It’s closing down.”
My ears pricked. “Oh? Why?”
“Really interesting story, Jones. Who knew the restaurant world had some shady
characters?” Woodstock chuckled, taking a huge bite into his sandwich. Gooey mayo
now dribbled down his two chins. “Apparently, the accountant there was dipping a
finger into the restaurant’s bank account. And his partner was none other than one
of the waitresses!”
I stared at him blankly. “And?”
“And I want you to go the conspiracy angle, Jones! Besides, I knew Samuel Ritter.
Real jackass,” he continued, licking each of his fingers and making a smacking
sound. I didn’t like the way he was referring to Stephen’s father but I bit my
tongue. “Pleasure’s been around for years. It’s about time the whole thing fell,”
he went on to say.
“Why would you want that?” I asked through clenched teeth, surprising myself by the
hate I was directing at the fat bastard sitting across me.
“Maybe they were all sleeping together!” Woodstock exclaimed, completely ignoring
me. “Maybe Ritter’s restaurant’s a front for his dirty dealings. So many
possibilities!”
“I’ve never heard anything more idiotic in my life,” I spat. “I think the fast food
and TV have gotten to your head.”
“What did you just say?”
“I’ve been offered a job at The Morning Star,” I said quietly, “and I think I’m
going to take it. If cheap sensationalism is what you’re going to turn this paper
into, I’m out.”
He reddened. “It’s a big story, Janelle.” This was the first time he’d ever used my
first name. “You don’t understand... There are so many rumours making the rounds
and –”
“And we’re not a tabloid.”
“I think you’re overreacting.”
“I think you’re a shithead.”
“You’re fired.”
“We both know that I quit.” I got to my feet, pointing a finger at him. “You want
to turn this newspaper into sensationalist garbage and I won’t be around for it.”
“Oh, save it, Jones. Pack your things and go.”
“Gladly.”
I walked out his office with my head held high. David Fuentes was the first one to
wish me well with a sneer on his face that told me he didn’t mean it.




I watched him for a few minutes,
basking in the fact that he didn’t know I was there. His eyes were closed as he lay
back in his chair listening to Coldplay on the radio and tapping his fingers on his
lap. I had the time to admire him from afar – the thick blonde hair I pulled when I
came; the Phoenician nose that often nuzzled into my neck; the perfect, soft lips
that kissed me everywhere – him.
I cleared my throat and his eyes flew open.
“Hi,” I said softly. “May I come in?”
“Door’s open,” Stephen said curtly.
I gingerly stepped inside his office. “I didn’t think I’d find you here.”
“I guess you’ve heard the news, huh?” He laughed bitterly, turning the radio off.
“But...why can’t you save it?” I asked. I wasn’t the type to go after a guy for
what he had in his pocket, but I knew for a fact that Stephen Ritter was loaded. It
didn’t make sense for him to just let his family’s legacy go under, especially when
it was currently looking like a ghost town.
“Why should I?”
“This is what your dad built up, isn’t it?”
He laughed. “So you paid attention in Ritter History 101.” He ran a hand through
his hair. “Janelle, I’m not a businessman. I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing
with this place. Guess that’s why I hired motherfucking George and his girlfriend
Stella.”
“Wait. Stella screwed you over?”
“Uh-huh.” He waved a hand flippantly. “But you know what? I think they did me a
favour.”
“How so?” I took one of the empty seats opposite his desk.
His eyes sparkled. “I’m a chef. It’s what I was born to do, as pansy-like as it
sounds. Clearly, The Man up there is sending me a message.”
I smiled. “Where will you go?”
“Don’t you see? Anywhere. Anywhere I want to go.”
My heart sank. “That’s wonderful.” I glanced at my wristwatch. “I gotta go.”
“Work?”
“Yeah,” I lied, standing up. I gave him a smile. “Take care, OK?”
“Take care?” he snorted. “Is this the last time we’re seeing each other or
something?”
I tilted my head to one side. “I’m just busy, Stephen.”
“Sure. I’m glad you stopped by to offer your condolences.”

“Me too.”






“I’m coming! I’m coming!” Prince
groaned – and proceeded to let out an animal-like yowl.
I turned in my bed, slamming a pillow over my head.
There was a long silence after that until Gary or Barry or whatever-his-name-was
climaxed loudly, making me shudder with revulsion. Prince had introduced me to him
when they’d skipped home while I was in the middle of a very emotional episode of
Dr. Phil (something about commitment-phobes and nymphomaniacs). Gary/Barry was a
tall, skinny poster child for electricity poles. His hair was dyed several
different shades of blue and he’d tattooed every bit of visible skin. I was
disappointed in Prince’s choice of mates, although I didn’t show it.
And now, at one in the morning, they were still busy getting it on.
What is it now, round ten?
To be honest, I was slightly envious.
Not slightly – try considerably.
I pulled the pillow off my head before I suffocated. Sure, my roommate had a
boyfriend and I didn’t. In fact, the last time I’d had a steady one had been in
high school. Was I really a guy when it came to emotions? To making a commitment?
Oh, give me a fucking break, I mentally chastised myself, kicking the covers off.
There was no need for me to go Dr. Phil on myself.
I marched out my room and knocked on Prince’s door. The movement inside instantly
ceased.
“Sorry, Nell! We’ll keep it down, I swear,” Prince sang out.

“It’s not about the noise. I need to ask you something.”
Silence.
“Um, okay.”
I took a deep breath. “Do you think I have commitment problems?”
“What?”
“Don’t make me repeat the question,” I muttered.
The door was wrenched open. Prince stood there in all his naked glory; I quickly
averted my eyes.
“You’re a mess, Janelle Jones,” he told me, tilting my chin upwards. “Is life all
about sex?” He rolled his eyes. “OK, I’m one to talk...but with Larry, I think I’ve
got something good, you know?”
Larry! My bad.
“I’m not obsessed with sex,” I fumed, folding my arms across my chest.
“I didn’t say that, Nell.” Prince sighed. “What I mean is...there’s a point in
everyone’s life where you can’t have sex without emotions getting mixed up in it.”
“You know what? Goodnight.” I turned on my heel and headed back to my room,
slamming the door shut and flopping back onto the bed.
Jobless and single, I thought, smiling to myself. I had totally lied to Woodstock
about our rival paper offering me a job and now, the guy I loved was going to join
Top Chef or something and –
The guy I love...
Prince certainly knew how to brainwash a girl.



“You here to yell at me again?”
Stephen asked, leaning against the doorjamb of the front door.
“Of course, not. I think we need to talk.” God, why did he have to smell
like...chocolate cake?
“If you say so.” He stepped aside. “Pray tell, my sweet, to what do I owe this
pleasure?”
“What’s up with the English accent?”
“I’m in character.”
“Which character?” I asked, following him into the kitchen.
“Jamie Oliver,” he said with a straight face.
The kitchen was a mess and the mystery of his chocolate-cake cologne was solved by
the smell of cake emanating from the oven.
“You’re baking?”
“It’s either that or getting fucked with my good friend Johnny Walker,” he replied,
pouring himself a glass of Coke. “Want one?” he asked, looking up.
I shook my head. “I thought you didn’t care. I mean, your whole speech was
basically ‘get out of Dodge’.”
He snorted. “You believed that shit?”
“I didn’t exactly say that I’m sorry,” I told him, watching him gulp down his
drink. “I know that you did love that place, in spite of how you say that –”
“You don’t know anything.”
“Okay.” I felt myself becoming pissed at him again. “I guess I’ll leave.”
“If you’re expecting me to beg you to stay, you’re in for a surprise,” he mumbled,
pulling open the oven door and squatting to take a peek inside.
I felt like throwing the bottle of Coke at his head. “I don’t expect anything from
you.”
“Then what are you doing here?”
Good question.
“I just...I just wanted to apologise for what you’re going through.”
“Apology accepted. Goodbye.”
“Fine.” I turned on my heel to leave and paused in the doorway. “Actually, no.”
“No?” Stephen smirked at me, folding his arms across his chest.
“I...I want some cake.” I shrugged. “It smells divine.”
“Divine. Why, thank you.” He motioned for me to take a seat on one of the bar
stools set around the island. “I’ll play your game. One slice and then you’re out.
Understood?”
“Perfectly.” I watched him delicately cut me a slice and set it on a plate. “I

don’t know any guys that bake. Except for Prince, of course.”
He gave me a look. “If you’re insinuating that I’m of homosexual orientation,

Janelle...”
I laughed. “Oh, I’m quite certain that that’s not possible.”
The slight sexual innuendo hung in the air like a bad smell.
I reddened, digging my fork into the moist cake. Speaking of moist...
“Have you decided where you’ll drift off to?” I asked, as nonchalantly as I
possibly could.
He took a seat opposite me. “Italy. Rome, to be exact. Why?”
“I was just asking. Why Italy?”
“I guess you could say it’s always been a dream of mine,” he said, watching me eat.
“How is it?”
“Pretty orgasmic,” I replied truthfully, then instantly wished I could take my

words back. Was everything about food sexual?
“There’s a little weed in it though.”
“What?” My eyes widened and I contemplated spitting crumbs all over him.
Stephen burst into a fit of laughter. “It’s a joke, Janelle. Remember those?”
“Funny,” I said dryly.
Silence elapsed.
“You’ve got crumbs around your mouth,” Stephen pointed out. He reached across the
counter and gently brushed them off. I was trembling from that simple touch.
“Thank you.”
“Do you want to go to my room? For old times’ sake?”
“You mean, since you’ll be leaving soon?”
“Yeah. Only if you want to, Jay. Only if you want to.” His eyes met mine.
“I want to.”



I parted my lips for him to taste
me. Wrapping my legs around his waist and snaking my arms around his neck, I was a
mass of shivering need. Stephen’s bed was cluttered with discarded clothing but
that was OK. He took me into the bathroom and pulled open the glass shower door
with his free hand.
“I already took a shower,” I murmured into his mouth.
“Now you can take another one.”
He turned the water on, making me squeal.
“Twat!” I giggled as he set me on my feet.

He reached out and pulled my dress over my head, flinging the wet thing onto the
ground. “This is how I want to remember you,” he said softly, taking a step back
and leaning against one glass wall.
“Half-naked and laughing like a hyena in your shower?”
He smiled. “No. Perfect.”
“I’m not,” I said, pulling him towards me. His shirt was clinging to his skin like
a wetsuit. It took me less than a second to rip it off. “Stephen...what’s this?”
“I can explain,” he began, reddening. He took a deep breath. “It was the last time
you were here... I got drunk for some reason and went out and the next morning, it
was here.”
I traced my hand over the initials on his chest. Stephen winced.
“It’s still raw,” he said softly, looking down at me.
“You’re mental. Completely mental,” I whispered, unzipping his fly.
When he entered me, I felt everything go numb inside. Lifting me up and banging me
against the wall as he pumped into me, I felt that he was saying goodbye in some
way. Arching my back and tilting my head up into the water, I reached a
backbreaking climax. Breath ragged, Stephen came instantly.
I clung to him, realising for the first time that this was happening because of
Erin. If she hadn’t tricked me into joining the library’s book club, I wouldn’t
have met Stephen.
I wouldn’t have fallen in love.
Stephen slowly set me back down, turning his face up into the water.
I stepped out the shower, shivering. Wrapping one of the spare towels around my
waist, I padded back into the bedroom. Something on the nightstand caught my
attention – flowers. Glancing back at the bathroom to make sure Stephen was still
inside, I shuffled there and picked the bouquet of lilies up.
The arrangement was distinctly the same as the ones I kept finding at Erin’s grave.
“What’re you doing?” Stephen’s voice asked from behind me.

I spun around. “You visit her grave.” I couldn’t help the accusation in my voice.
“Erin’s? Yes. Is it a crime?”
I placed the lilies back down. “No, Stephen; it’s not.” I inhaled sharply. “How do
you know you love someone?”
“Let’s not start this argument again,” he said darkly, walking over to the dressing
table. “You know, it takes a shitload of guts for a guy to admit he loves a woman,
and when he’s blatantly used for sex, it screws him up mentally.”
“I’ve lost my job,” I said, watching him open a drawer.
“You and me both.”
“And...and I’ve heard that in Italy, magazines are the new newspapers.”
He turned around. “What?”
“I love you. Very, very much. I’ve never said that to anyone.” I paused. “And it’s
not about the sex. I could live without the sex. But you? I don’t know how I can
live with being on a different continent to you.”
“I’m sure you’d manage.”
“You make me so mad sometimes, Stephen Ritter,” I seethed, feeling anything but.
“Did you not hear a word I just said?”
“Janelle, you’re all talk and no fucking walk.”
“Okay,” I conceded. “Maybe I deserve that.” I went to stand before him. “I’ll do
more than walk. I’ll kneel.”
He arched a brow as I got on bended knee. “What are you doing?”
“What does it look like? Losing whatever shred of dignity I had left,” I smiled.
“Stephen Ritter, I love you. It takes a shitload of guts and oestrogen for a woman
to admit she loves a man, you should know.”
A slow smile spread across his face as he pulled me to my feet. “I do know. Man,
how I know,” he said huskily. “I hope your Italian’s up to scratch.”
“You expect way too much from me, mi amore.”
He wrapped his arms around me. “And you know, we’ll have to find an Italian book
club,” he said, pecking my forehead.
“We don’t need one,” I said, tracing the ‘JJ’ etched into his skin. “I’m always up
for a little role play before supper.”
He laughed, the rumble in his chest tickling my face. “So am I, Janelle. So am I.”
He started unravelling the towel around me...

~FIN~


Author’s Note: I hope this ending pleases you. I got a little miserable saying
goodbye to these characters and in case you weren’t too sure, that JJ tattoo
Stephen had done stands for Janelle Jones (‘tat my name on you so I know it’s real’
lol). Anyway, there won’t be a sequel of their life in Italy (although I can assure
you that it’ll probably be a happy one) so I hope this ending suffices. As always,
I’m so grateful to have you all as my readers. I don’t think I’d update as fast as
I try to if it weren’t for some of you being impatient, so thank you! xo – Nickel

(18 ONLY) The Book Club

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© KIMBER LEE 2012 THE BOOK CLUB

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Author’s Note & Disclaimer

“We get a lot of uptight people here. Take a seat.”

2: In Which She Visits a Paradise

3: In Which She is a Bronte Girl

<p data-p-id="cca06860b075a69a2c14c1372a534662"> 4: In Which She is on the

And at least it didn’t involve horny exhibitionist CEOs.

5: In Which She Passes a Test

6: In Which She Sees Double

“What's cracking, Mother Teresa?”

I slapped her away, laughing. “What the hell is up with you?”

“Nell, I've come to pick you up, OK?”

“Book club, sweetie. Twilight’s this week’s book.”

I wrinkled my nose. “Clam chowder?”

"Depends on who's asking," she replied coyly.

A French guy... Oh my. Isn't French the language of love?

He laughed, fingering one lock. "Prematurely grey, unfortunately."

I took it. "Janelle."

"This is only my second time. Orgies? Not really my thing."

"I've never - "

"Have you ever thought about a threesome?"

"A threesome?" I played with the word in my mouth.

Mother Teresa, Erin's voice said in my head.

Sweet baby Suri, this is unreal!

Yes. Yes, it is.

Luc looked at me knowingly. "So Janelle, ma petite... Are you interested?"

They both stopped what they were doing.

“I think you’re ready,” Luc whispered in my ear, his voice strangled.

Uninhibited, I removed the last vestiges of my clothing. After all, everyone in

Surely that’s illegal?

“Come here, Janelle,” he murmured, breaking out of character. He wrapped a fist

“Then bend. Ninety degrees. And blow me.”

I swallowed. Had I ever engaged in anything this...dirty before? No. Never.

“I think we can make that happen, Bella.”

All thoughts of Stephen had flown out the window.

<p data-p-id="06d6cb7c5412c0d02f56fa6bef285a1f">9: In Which She Wears Black

“A snack,” he mumbled, returning to chopping what I discovered was salami. “I think

“Well, you sure act like one,” he grunted out.

He snorted, slamming the knife onto the counter. “A tantrum?”

I shoved him. “I don’t know what we’re doing, OK? I don’t.”

“Will you fúck off if I do?”

“I don’t like you very much.”

He pulled me towards him. “Don’t lie.” Releasing my arms, he backed me up against

“Go away,” I growled at him.

“You go away. This is my kitchen.”

“Then let me!”

“No underwear, Janelle?”

Why was I mad again? What did I come here for?

“Don’t,” I whispered, shrugging Stephen’s hands off me.

“Kindly fúck off.”

I felt tears collect at the corners of my eyes, blurring my vision.

“I met her a few times. Fun girl.”

“Stephen, stop,” I pleaded.

“You’re probably tired,” Stephen whispered into my ear.

“That’s OK. Phlegm washes out.”

I let out a laugh, startled.

“Come.” He gave me a small smile, and he led me to the bedroom.

There are two things that can help with grief.

He groaned. “Janelle, you’re still –”

He took my hand out his pants. “Bed.”

“Would you please close your eyes?”