new WIP

LITTLE BLACK BOOK

            Hello journal. You will be my new friend. I shall tell you all the secrets I dare not tell others. Pages will mark time until I am caught or die. How many men can I kill before they stop me? How long can the money hide and protect me?

             I am back. Did you miss me? I have missed you all, especially the male fans that leave lurid comments on my blog. Months have come and gone since I wrote the ending to my novel and there are so many things I have to tell you. All will be shared in due time. I only have a few minutes before Ray returns from a meeting with the mayor.

            I want to welcome you to my journal. In these pages I shall tell you of my exploits in Las Vegas. The names and stories written here will be changed to protect me. The basic truth will remain. The people named in my little black book are no longer alive.

            Fall comes to Vegas and the temperature drops a little each day, making it time to put away shorts and bathing suits and the skimpy clothing I wear around the mansion to torture the staff. I know George and David will be disappointed, but I promise to find ways to keep them happy.

            Ray called to say he will be late. That gives me extra time to prepare for tonight. I’m having a new friend over for dinner and I need to look my best. I can’t ignore my routine no matter how much money I stuff into my bank account.

            And so, it begins. Enjoy dear reader, my tales of Las Vegas.

I

DIVE BAR

I came here to write, trying to stay as far from tourists and bars packed with frat boys and their silly attempts to stick me with the pointy end. 

To avoid all those things, I picked this bar, a run-down locals place with a simple blinking sign of ‘duff’s bar’ on the front. The dusty floor and mostly empty stools told me immediately I had the right place. 

The bar looks smaller from the inside, with an old juke-box sitting silently in the corner as the two older men pressing bellies to the bar stare at me. I place my notebook on the stool next to me and signal the bartender for a drink.

"What will it be blondie?"

"Whiskey, neat. Make it a double." 

He makes the drink and places it on a cocktail napkin, giving me a creepy smile I am sure he intends to make me swoon. 

I shake my head and take down half the drink in one swallow to remove the image from my mind. I need to write after all and don’t need to be distracted by horny barbacks. Just pour my damned drink, please.

Rising from the stool, I walk to the jukebox. As I tap the touch screen looking for songs, the front door opens. A man walks in, age thirty if I am forced to guess, wearing jeans and a plaid shirt. His face is covered by a scruffy growing beard and dark brown eyes find my own. He gets a drink from the bartender as I select my song.

"Only girl in the world" by a certain pop star. 

The opening refrain is playing and I begin to hum along when the man appears at my side, coming close to me. I can smell the lingering stink of travel and road dirt on him and wish he might have showered before pressing against my side. 

"What’s your story? You play for the Redsox?" I ask, giving a beard a tug. 

He laughs, takes a deep drink and clears his throat. 

"Not those clowns. I’m from New York. I hate the Redsox."

"I see." I don’t tell him I grew up near Boston. Strike one, sir.

He follows me back to the bar in silence and watches as I take up my notebook to begin writing. 

"What are you writing?" he asks. 

I tap the pen against the bar with annoyance. I won’t be able to write anything if you don’t let me breathe, sir.

"Sex." I say, crossing my legs and putting a cigarette to my lips. I pause for a moment, giving him a chance to be a gentleman, but no flame is forthcoming. I light it myself and grumble into my drink.

"Sorry, I don’t smoke," he says. 

"Nice story," I say, putting the cigarette on the ashtray and picking up my pen. I write a sentence in my notebook and move my arm to give him full view of the page. 

The plot thickens and she wonders if she will take him back to the hotel. Does he want ‘that’ from me? 

"Definitely," he answers, smiling at me. I can’t deny he is handsome, dark eyes matching his warm smile. 

"Settle down, Mr. That is just a story. As it happens, I’m tired and not at all in the mood for that sort of thing tonight." 

The air leaks from his balloon and he slouches on the bar stool, signaling the bar keep for another round. 

"About time you offered me a drink. I was beginning to think you have no manners." I wink at him and finish my cocktail, waiting for another.

"Sorry, I’m nervous," he says, not able to hold eye contact and looking up at the sports highlight show on the television.

"Tsk, tsk, don’t ever ignore a girl for sports."

Barkeep arrives with drinks, shaking his head at the failures of my new friend who fumbles with money with shaking hands. I place a hand on his leg and wait until he looks at me.

"Relax. There’s no reason to be nervous. I’m just a girl."

He tries to smile, but fails and gulps down his drink and waves at the barkeep for another.

"Not for me, I’m leaving in a minute." 

"You only wrote a sentence,’ he says in confusion. 

"I can’t concentrate tonight. I know better than to force the muse into cooperation. It doesn’t work that way."

The look of disappointment returns and he stammers a string of words in a feeble attempt to convince me to stay.

Grabbing a bar napkin, I write my phone number and my twitter screen name. Sliding it to him, I throw money on the bar and pack up my writing materials.

"I am tired. So sorry to leave so soon. Be in touch?" I say, running a finger along his arm. 

Walking away, I am quite certain his eyes are on me. He will call. Bet on it.

II

            His text arrives on cue and I invite him for dinner this evening. I’ll have to find errands to send Ray to complete for a few hours for I do not want him to interrupt the festivities. The man responds with gushing enthusiasm and it takes me a few texts to convince him not to bring anything. I mean, I have a distillery and a winery here at the mansion, what can I possibly need from him? (Except his life)

            Ray doesn’t want to leave on ‘errands’, which might have something to do with him walking in as I applied lotion to my legs after the bath. Men can’t stop themselves. I do admire that quality in men. Go for pleasure with no apologies. Our time on this dirt ball we call Earth gets shorter with each passing day and I plan on killing and sexing as long as I can get away with it.

            I spray perfume on my neck and wrists before pulling a silk dress over my head. Descending the grand spiral staircase that leads from the front entrance to the private bedrooms on the second floor, I see Ray standing in the foyer. He wears a black suit and smiles as I approach. Lips touch my cheek and I push out of his attempts to clutch me in his arms and enter the kitchen.

            Pouring two drinks of whiskey, I wait for Ray to appear by my side before I raise my glass.

            “What are we celebrating?” he asks, trying to kiss me again.

            “A new friend is coming for dinner.”

            He frowns and pours a second drink.

            “Can’t we just spend the night together?”

            I put my arms around his neck and bury my head in his suit jacket, which smells of cigars and perfume.

            “I promise I’ll make it up to you later,” I say, putting my hand on his belt and tracing my finger over the buckle.

            With a growl, he spins me and pushes my stomach against the countertop. He lifts my dress and spanks my bare ass hard several times, which brings tears to my eyes.

            “Now,” he grunts into my ear as he yanks the belt off and throws it to the floor.

            Without warning he rams me to the hilt, smashing me against the granite countertop, knocking the wind from my lungs.

            “Are you going to let him fuck you?” he asks, pounding into me again and again, grabbing my hair to gain as much traction as possible.

            I nod my head because I can’t manage to speak or contain the squeals of delight each time he crashes on top of me. This is why I married you, sir. Night and day at all hours, you do the things I need.

            Loud staccato grunts pull me from my mind and he explodes inside me with ferocity, gripping my shoulders so tightly his fingertips turn white with the effort.

            “Are you trying to get me with child?” I say, smiling as he lays on me, panting and shaking.

            He doesn’t answer and pulls away. I know he will leave me alone tonight with my guest. I wonder if he will watch on the security system like last time. He leaves the kitchen without a word and I fix my hair and dress in the reflection of the refrigerator. I look as if my husband just took me in a rough manner and rush up the stairs to apply a freshening to my make-up and clean the mess running down my legs. I must look my best, don’t you agree?

            The doorbell rings and I look at the wall clock. It’s seven o’clock. I appreciate a man being punctual. Nothing bothers me as much as a man keeping me waiting. I descend the stair again, but take my time. He must be nervous standing at the door to this monstrosity I call home. Nothing he saw at the bar last night could give him any indication of the wealth Ray and I share.

            I pull open the door and with a sweeping wave of my arm, invite him inside. He trimmed his beard and put on fresh clothing for me, which makes me happy. I can’t stand slovenly behavior from men. He produces roses from behind his back and hands the bunch to me. Putting the package to my face, I inhale the sweet smell and smile. I think I chose well.

            “Make yourself a drink,” I say, indicating the bar against the wall next to the piano. I grab a vase and begin trimming the stems, watching him pour two tumblers of whiskey. His shoes click loudly on the marble floor as he joins me and holds out a glass.

            “Do you live here by yourself?” he asks, looking around in wonder at the high ceilings and stained glass windows.

            “No, silly,” I say, lifting my glass. “Here is to adventure in Sin City.”

            “Cheers,” he says, still craning his neck at various furnishings. Taking a drink, he returns his eyes to min. “You look incredible.”

            I can’t help blush and make a small spin to give him a proper viewing of my dress.

            “You are too kind, sir.”

            “No, I am not. Your beauty…” he begins, but stops, content to stare at me, taking in my features and sipping his drink.

            I grab his tie and pull him close, standing on my toes to bring my mouth close to his. “You were saying?”

            He places the glass on the table and takes my face in his hands, covering my lips with soft kisses, his beard tickling and teasing my skin.

            “Ooh,” I say, bumps rising along my arm as his fingers grip my hair. I feel a slight weakness in my knees as a hand pushes the strap of my dress off my shoulder and he kisses my neck. My breathing becomes shallow and I doubt we shall bother with dinner after all. Suddenly, his hands are everywhere, pulling and pinching and ripping at my dress.

            He lifts me and carries me away, though I am certain he doesn’t know where to go. I say nothing, content to be taken as he wishes, not wanting to direct or lead in any fashion. Oh, how I prefer a man…

            Seeing the couch in the billiard room, he drops me onto the cushion and removes his tie and jacket. He grabs my dress and pulls it over my head, leaving me naked and wanting. I wrap my legs around the pillow and grind against it, my eyes locked with his, wanting him to see my desire. He throws the pillow against the wall and grabs my ankle, forcing my legs apart.

            Looking over his shoulder, I can see the light from the security system blinking red and know Ray watches. The thought causes a tremor to pass over my body and I arch my back to push my body closer to him. He places my breast in his mouth and bites at my nipple greedily, ravishing me with a ferocity that makes me gasp. I begin pulling at his pants, but he slaps at my hand before pinning it against the couch behind my head.

            Grabbing both my wrists, he flips me over and presses my stomach into the soft cushion, his strength surprising me. I bite my lip to keep from screaming, for I can feel the size of it against my leg. I hold my breath and try to look over my shoulder, wanting to see, but I can’t move an inch in his iron grip. He eases into me and for a brief moment the room spins.

            “ahhhh,” I manage to say. He doesn’t answer and keeps working more of it in, slowly rocking into me, burying inch after inch until I feel hot fire in my belly. He grabs at my shoulders and uses the leverage to force it all in, which makes me gasp at the very moment the doorbell rings.

            I try to turn my body, but again he holds my body in place and doesn’t stop, keeping a slow rhythm of grinding in into me and pulling it out again. The bell rings once more, but still he makes no sign he heard it, continuing to drive his cock deep in me, making me gasp each time. I simply am not used to his size. He is far larger than Ray and I can’t help not wanting it to end.

            George passes by the doorway on his way to the front entrance, but doesn’t look or acknowledge the fierce assault the man puts on me. I hear him speak to the delivery boy over the sounds of the man’s skin smacking against my ass. The man increases the speed and rams me without mercy, which brings noises from me I can’t control. George passes again on the way to the kitchen.

            “Dinner is ready.”

            The man lets out a laugh and stops for a moment. I fear he might be put off and not continue, but I have nothing to fear. He flips me over and bends my legs up until my knees touch my chest. Pressing on me until I feel as if he will crush me completely, he thrusts inside me once more. He fucks me in a frenzy, mashing me into the couch and bending my body like a pretzel to achieve deeper penetration.

            The fury increases and I can’t form a single thought in my mind as he owns my body in a more complete way than I’ve ever experienced. I put my arms around his neck as his breathing grows heavier and he grinds it deeper and deeper inside me. He bites at my ear and grunts heavily, body going rigid as he orgasms and begins shooting seed into me.

            He collapses on top of me, unable to move or speak or catch his breath. Sweat drips from his temples onto my face and I rub my hands over his back trying to soothe him. After a few minutes, he rolls to the side and sits upright on the couch, putting my legs on his lap.

            “Are you hungry yet?” I ask. His hands massage my upper thighs in slow circles, with his rough fingers brushing against my clit every few seconds, causing me to arch my back into him once more.

            “I am not done with you,” he says, inserting fingers in me as the evidence of what he did slowly leaks down my leg. Curling his fingers, he flicks at a spot that makes me squeal with desire.

            “Don’t stop,” I say. He flicks at my clit with the other hand as he fucks me hard with his fingers. Oh my god, he is going to make me cum.

            “I’m going to fuck you all night,” he says, increasing the speed of his fingers. I can’t respond as I’m too close. I shut my eyes and drift into the pleasure, letting the moment take me away. He moves my legs and positions his face close to my waist. I feel his tongue swirl around my clit, which sends me over the top. Grabbing his face and pressing it against me, I begin to cum at the moment I see Ray standing in the doorway holding my special knife.  

            I don’t care or try to stop, my body stiff and racked with orgasm. The man can’t see Ray and I grip my thighs about his head, squeezing to force more contact, the spasm going on and on and on. When it subsides, I do not see Ray, though he left the knife next to the camera. Ray is a thoughtful husband.

            “I think it’s time for dinner,” he says, standing and stretching. I don’t move and remain for a moment in the glow of the incredible orgasm the man gave me. I watch him dress and smile, for I am truly happy at this moment.

            “You are amazing,” I finally manage to say, rising to my feet. I kiss his cheek and grab his hand, leading him to the kitchen. I see Outback take out bags on the counter. “I hope you like steak, sir.”

III

            I find Ray in the stables tending to the horses. I can’t tell if he is mad or jealous, for I see no emotion in his eyes when he sees me. He greets me with arms open and pulls me into a warm embrace and all my fears leave me. Even though we have been married these five months, I can’t shake the thoughts that he may never truly accept me for what I am.

            “Did you have fun?” he asks, taking up the brush and working on the rust/red mare’s mane.

            “I did,” I answer, not wanting to say too much. Can I tell him it was incredible, earth shattering even? I don’t know and say nothing more, preferring to watch him work with Bella.

            Stopping for a moment, his eyes narrow and I can see thoughts swirling in his eyes, a myriad of questions he wants to ask. “And?”

            “He took a nap after dinner.”

            “Oh?” he can’t hide the surprise in his voice.

            “I thought maybe I could keep him around for a while.”

            A low whistle escapes his lips and he returns to brushing Bella’s mane, as if contemplating my statement. What will he say?

            “Like a toy?” he asks, smirking at me.

            “Just like that, Ray,” I answer, throwing my arms around his neck and kissing him on the neck and mouth and cheek.

            “Whatever you want, love,” he says, putting the brush down and taking me into his arms once again.

            “Yes!” I say, unable to contain my glee. I run from the barn, pass the kennels and enter the guest house. Taking the stairs two at a time, I open the door to the master bedroom to see the man jerking and pulling at the ropes biding him to the bed. I approach and sit beside him, running a hand over his strong arms.

            Muffled sounds come from the man and I remove the tie stuffed in his mouth to let him speak.

            “Nice of you to return, it feels like I’ve been tied here forever. My arms and legs feel like I’m being stabbed by a thousand pins and needles.”

            Rubbing my hand over his stomach and going lower, I grip him in my hand, squeezing and pulling.

            “Quit complaining, I have good news for you.”

            His eyes open wide and I can smell fear coming from him for the first time. Did he think I tied him to the bed for some sexual game?

            “The husband said I could keep you around for a while.”

            “What the hell? You’re married?”

            “Happily. Though, I won’t lie, I didn’t tell him how hard you fucked me. Or how hard you made me cum.”

            He makes a new attempt to pull from the ropes, bucking with surprising strength that shakes the bed. I wait for him to cease fighting, for I know it to be a futile enterprise. After all, I tied the knots myself. He will be going no place unless I cut him free. Within a few minutes, he stops and waits for me to continue.

            “You should be grateful,” I say, reaching for the nightstand and opening the top drawer. I place my knife on the bed for him to see.

            “You are crazy.”

            “Here I am raving about how well you fucked me and you hurl insults. That’s not very nice, Mr.”  

            “Are you going to kill me?” he says as I continue to pull and yank on his massive piece of meat. I put a finger to his lips and straddle him, swinging a leg over. Easing myself on top, I guide him inside of me.

            “No. I don’t throw away useful toys,” I say as I let my weight go and hilt myself on his shaft. As I work up a rhythm, his eyes look around the room for anything that might help his plight. Sweat forms on my forehead and I feel my orgasm building once again as the door creaks open. I see Ray enter and take a seat on the ottoman against the far wall. He lights a cigarette, crosses his legs and leans his check on a palm, settling in to watch.

            “I love you, Ray,” I say as I bounce on the man, using his size and girth to bring myself closer to orgasm. The man can’t stop himself and begins to cum, eyes snapping shut as spasms pass over his body. I grab the knife from the nightstand and flick open the blade. Pressing the metal against his neck, I slow my pace to a grind, my orgasm moments away.

            My body goes rigid and I drop the knife on the bed. The man pants and wheezes for air and I roll off him, once again feeling his spunk drip down my leg. My head swims and I feel faint from the exertion. Ray helps me stand and holds me as I gain my bearings. The man watches us and the fear returns to his eyes.

            “What happens now?” he asks. Does he want to know?

            “All in good time, sir,” I answer, walking from the room, hand in hand with Ray.