LOVE LESSONS By Vanessa Hart Published 2003 ISBN 1-931761-65-5 Published by Liquid Silver Books, imprint of Atlantic Bridge Publishing, 6280 Crittenden Ave, Indianapolis, Indiana. Copyright (c) 2003, Vanessa Hart. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author. Manufactured in the United States of America Liquid Silver Books http://www.liquidsilverbooks.com Email:
[email protected] Cover Art Shirley A. Schult http://www.pixelhaven.com This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.
CHAPTER ONE
When the student is ready, the teacher appears. Alone at last. Wendy Powers deadbolted her door after Lisa, her best friend, finally left. They'd had another one of those conversations about Wendy's love life. "I want you to meet Drew, Wendy. He's perfect for you." "Not interested." "How can you keep saying that? You're twenty-five, in your prime. I hate to see you miss out." Wendy pushed her toward the door. "You date Drew. I'm happy without a man." "Granted, you have an amazing job, a cool apartment, new car..." "New car payments. I have to focus on my career right now to pay the bills." "Don't you ever get, you know... " Lisa lowered her voice. "Horny?" "Don't you know about auto-eroticism?" Lisa ran her green-polished nails through her blond spiked hair. "A lousy substitute, if you ask me." But Wendy hadn't asked her. Lisa meant well, but she needed to mind her own business. "I'll call you later, all right? I've had a long day." After Lisa's departure, Wendy stepped out of her wrinkled business suit. She stripped the panty hose from her legs, then peeled the damp bra from her breasts. The icy ceramic bathroom tile chilled her sweaty feet as she headed toward the shower. Today's heat and humidity must have set a record. The thong followed the damp bra into her hamper, but the suit would need to be dry cleaned. She'd think about laundry later. Now all she wanted was a shower. Well, that wasn't all she wanted. Truth was, she'd been aroused from the moment the air conditioning had brushed across her nipples. Lisa's talk about being horny hadn't helped, either. After the shower, Wendy planned to indulge in a little of that auto-eroticism. A gentle way to put it, she thought, smiling to herself. Lisa was right about one thing: Wendy was in her sexual prime. She'd discovered she was her own best lover. She'd learned long ago no man would satisfy her. She'd kissed too many frogs looking for a prince. But she'd also learned it didn't matter. She could support herself financially, she had a social life, and she had an arsenal of sex toys for self-satisfaction. A man in her life? Ha! What for? Extra laundry, groceries, and remote controls. Less closet space and privacy. Then there were birth control and health-safety issues. No, thank you. Men didn't even make good friends, unless you counted a football game-watching buddy as a friend. She smiled, remembering her old pal, Scott Drysdale. Definitely the exception where men were concerned. She and Scott had always been close friends, but that was all. And he was safely married, thank you very much. The shower spray sluiced over her shoulders, tantalizing her breasts and the tender flesh at the tips. If anything, the shower intensified her horniness. The fluffy terry cloth towel rubbed her tingling skin dry.
Her fingers lingered between her legs, inching closer to her most sensitive spot. Swift arousal drove her to the soft carpet just outside the bathroom, her fingers rhythmically massaging her clit. As it swelled with need, she increased the tempo. Tiny circles of sensation rippled deep, bringing her to fever pitch. God almighty! She was quickly on the brink of coming. Deliberately slowing her massage, she crawled to her nightstand. Inside the lower drawer she grabbed the dildo, a remarkable tool resembling a large, pink cucumber she affectionately called Willie. Peter, the battery-powered vibrator, wouldn't be needed this time. To further arouse herself, she thumbed her left nipple, then her right, while using her other hand to slide Willie inside. In and out, in and out, she maintained the rhythm as her temperature rose. She took the dildo deep, then shoved it further. She tensed, clenching her pelvic muscles. Rigid, she squeezed her eyes shut. "Oh, yes! Yes!" She abandoned her nipples for her clit and rode wave after wave of her orgasm. "Oh, God. Oh, yes! Oooooh." She rested a moment, catching her breath and relaxing her thigh muscles. But she couldn't hold back her need. Working Willie in and out, in and out, she pulled the dildo, slick with her own wetness, across her clit, then slid it back inside. She repeated the movement, picking up speed, until she tensed again. She shuddered against the dildo, crying out her satisfaction in a lengthy, unintelligible groan. Panting, she leaned her head against the bed's quilted comforter and closed her eyes. Relaxed for the first time since she'd left for work that morning, she slowed her breathing, then sighed. Just like a good workout, sex left her drained but refreshed. Yes, life was good. She had everything she needed with none of the hassles. Living alone, she called the shots, owing no explanations for her long hours at the office or her occasional nights out with friends. Her family respected her privacy and busy schedule, dropping by only if they'd called first. She cooked if and when she chose, masturbating when the mood struck. She wouldn't trade her independence for the world. The bedside telephone chirped, jarring her solitude. Tempted to let it go to voice mail, she answered it on the third ring. "Wendy, it's Scott." "Scott? You don't sound like yourself." He hesitated--was that a sob?--he finally sighed. "Heather left me." "Oh, Scott." Wendy swallowed the lump in her throat. His voice filled with so much pain, she fought a sudden urge of anger toward his insensitive wife. How could Heather dump sweet, shy Scott? "You want to talk about it?" "That's why I called. You know you're my best friend." "I'll be right over..." "Well, uh, I was on my way over there. Is that okay?" "You know it's okay. But be careful, hear? You sound upset."
"Yeah, well, I can still drive." She hung up and hurried to dress. Scott had been the geek in glasses who'd tutored Wendy through high school chemistry their junior year. She'd coached him on updating his image. He'd had his heart set on Junior Prom Queen Heather Michaels. Thanks to contact lenses, styled hair, and a wardrobe update, he'd finally gotten her attention. Then Wendy had role-played with him for hours until he'd felt comfortable enough to ask Heather out. What Scott didn't know was how Wendy had worked behind the scenes to promote him to Heather. Heather had been ready to ask him out by the time he'd found the courage to approach her for a date. Now Wendy wondered if she'd done him any favors. She'd often wondered why popular Heather Michaels married the studious and shy Scott. Although Scott was ecstatic, he, too, had been speechless when she'd said yes to his proposal. Attractive in her own right, Wendy had nonetheless moved outside the circles of the Heather Michaelses of the world. She'd envied Heather some, hated her a little. But she'd resolved to like the woman when she married Scott, Wendy's best friend. He'd sounded devastated on the phone. If she could get her hands on that stuck up little snot Heather, she'd choke the bitch for hurting him. "Wendy, that's irrational," she muttered, but the self-scolding did no good. She'd barely dressed when the buzzer sounded for her door. **** Scott Drysdale pressed the buzzer at his best friend's apartment. Most guys would go out drinking with their best friend to commiserate a broken relationship. And that's just what Scott intended. Of course, most men's best friends were other men. Scott happened to have a female best buddy. He wasn't sure how his and Wendy's friendship had started, only that she'd been the first student in his class to take the time to get to know him. She'd understood him and spent time helping him gain acceptance with the popular crowd. If he'd had a sister, he'd have wanted her to be Wendy Powers. Wendy opened her door and pulled him into her arms, hugging him against her. Damp and clean, she'd probably just stepped from the shower. The filmy shorts and knit T-shirt she wore hugged her athletic body. His eyes stung as he buried his face into her wet hair. Misery from Heather's defection gave way to something else, an overwhelming sense of being loved and accepted as himself, like a parent's love, but not quite. He'd sort it out later, when he'd cleared his head of the emotional chaos. Certain that his best friend would fix things for him--she always had, hadn't she?--he gave in to the tears. CHAPTER TWO Never stop trying to impress the one you love. Scott declined Wendy's offer of dinner, although she persuaded him to join her for a glass of Riesling. He needed a tranquilizer, but Wendy had nothing but the small bottle of wine, a gift she'd saved for an emergency. Her best friend's crisis qualified, as far as she was concerned. Damn Heather. Scott worshipped the woman. Didn't she know how lucky she was, how rare a husband she had? Wendy longed to pull the woman's long blond hair out by its mousy brown roots. "I'm starving. Sure you won't join me for a light dinner? We could split an egg-white mushroom omelet."
"I'm not sure I can swallow..." "You have to eat. You can't make yourself sick over this." He seemed to consider the advice, then nodded. "You're right. I need all my strength for battle." "Battle?" She led him into her kitchen. "I can't just roll over and play dead, Wendy. Too much is at stake. Too much of my life is invested in this marriage." "It takes two to make a marriage. You can't do it alone." She gestured him to sit at the breakfast bar that divided the kitchen from the living room. "I know. All I need to do is turn myself into the man she wants me to be." Whoa. Where was this going? Wendy grew uneasy at the desperation in his voice. "This isn't high school anymore, where I play image consultant. Partners in marriage have deeper issues between them than cool clothes and contact lenses." "Deeper issues. Ha." Uh oh. She'd struck a nerve. But she wouldn't pry. The less Scott told her about Heather's complaints, the less uncomfortable Wendy would feel if they reconciled. And reconciliation seemed to be Scott's goal. "You say this isn't high school, but it seems Heather and I haven't progressed much since then. She wants free of the marriage because I just don't excite her in bed." Too much information! Wendy really didn't want to hear this. She busied herself whisking the egg whites into a frothy mixture. Scott had always talked freely to her, knowing she'd neither repeat nor ridicule anything he said. "I'll admit that seems shallow. Did you offer to go to counseling?" "You mean, like, to a sex therapist?" His eyes widened. Wendy shrugged, then poured the egg white mixture onto the sizzling griddle. "I don't know. I was just thinking about marriage counseling. There has to be something else going on here besides problems in the sack." "Nope. She assures me I'm everything a woman could want: thoughtful, devoted, a good provider. She says I need to find another woman who will appreciate those qualities." Indeed. "She's saying she doesn't appreciate them?" Scott nodded, misery filling his mossy green eyes. "I'm boring." "No. You certainly aren't boring. You're the most intelligent man I've ever known. I can talk with you for hours and find out the most fascinating stuff..." "I'm boring in bed. I'm boring at sex, she says." Wendy cleared her throat, then finished off her wine. "Well. I certainly can't help you there, but surely a good thera..." "Why not?"
"Excuse me?" "Why can't you help me there?" Wendy swallowed. Twice. Then she reached for the bottle of Riesling for a refill. "You mean, counsel you..." "I mean show me. I'm desperate here, and you're the only person in the world I can trust to help me." "Exactly what are you asking of me?" Scott drank his wine in a few gulps, as if needing the spirit for courage. "I want you to teach me how to sexually satisfy my wife. I want to learn how to drive her mad with sexual craving and need for me. I know it's asking a lot, but you've always said..." "I know. I've always said I'm a liberated woman, in charge of my own..." Her voice faltered. She choked on the words "sexual gratification." Countless times she'd recited this to Lisa and her other friends. Had she really said it to Scott? She grated fresh Parmesan cheese over the bubbly omelet, then lowered the heat on the gas burner. "Please, Wendy? I'll do anything you ask, follow all your instructions." "This isn't the same as when you tutored me in Chemistry." "I know. And we wouldn't have to actually, uh, do...it, you know." "Actually, we would. It needs to be hands-on training and I'm not sure how I feel about that. We're friends, Scott, but should we be engaging in sex with each other?" With her spatula, she folded the omelet on the griddle, then turned off the burner. "It's ready. Hand me two plates, will you?" As she served the omelet, her worries mounted. Yes, she could have meaningless sex with a man. But Scott? She'd have to exercise extreme caution, not let emotion into the equation. Emotion on either of their parts would spell disaster, especially for her. "It's for a good cause," he added. "Let me think about it, okay?" "Sure. I want Heather back, and I'll do whatever it takes." Including me? She joined him on the other stool at the bar. "Dig in." They ate in silence for several minutes. He'd managed to eat something, which was an encouraging sign. They finished off the bottle of wine, then Scott grabbed their plates. "Let me clean up since you cooked." Oh, wow. A guy who'd do dishes. Was Heather totally insane? "Thanks." Scott seemed to know his way around the kitchen. In just a few minutes, the dishes were in the dishwasher. He scrubbed the griddle until it gleamed. "Where does this go?" "Just stick it in the oven." "Okay, get me started on my lessons. What do you advise first?" He slid back onto the stool. They'd be more comfortable in the living room, but Wendy didn't want to be more comfortable. The wine
and talk of sex had her too relaxed. She needed to stay clear-headed to deal with Scott's unusual request. "Assuming I agree to help you, I'd say start by looking for ways to surprise her. Never stop trying to impress the one you love. If you do, you start taking the relationship for granted." "If I took Heather for granted, I didn't know it. I never forgot special occasions..." "We're talking about sex. Had it become a routine bedroom thing, or did you surprise her in different rooms of the house, or different pieces of furniture?" She held up her hand in a halting gesture. "Wait, don't answer that. These are rhetorical questions only." "If you're going to help me, I can't keep secrets. In truth, you're right. I tried to be adventurous, but it was always in the bed, in the bedroom." The bleakness returned to his eyes. "No wonder she thinks I'm boring." Anger at Heather again welled up inside Wendy. "Wait. Did you ever talk about your love-making? Did Heather give you feedback? Or were you supposed to read her mind?" "I always, you know, followed her lead. She seemed to like taking charge, if you know what I mean." He slowly shook his head. "Truth is, I wasn't comfortable discussing our love-making. I never asked her if she liked it." "People seldom do, Scott. We're all afraid of a bad critique." "But if I had asked, maybe things wouldn't have deteriorated to the point that she left..." "Counterproductive thinking. Listen, I will help you, but you have to learn to open up. Talk to your partner when having sex. Talk dirty. Trust me, it's a turn-on. Most of all, remember it's give-and-take. You ask, but you also direct. Your partner needs to know what feels good to you, too." As she spouted off her pseudo-wisdom, she reached her decision. She couldn't let Scott down. She'd help him, even if it meant ... well, even if it meant frequent sex between them. "I'll just have to give you a critique." Scott's head jerked up. His eyes widened. "You mean, you ... you'll help me?" "Yes. Be here tomorrow after work for our first session. Pretend I'm Heather and you're taking me out on a date. Just do whatever comes naturally. The next evening, we'll evaluate and discuss areas to work on improving." He broke into a smile. "You sound like a school teacher giving me an assignment." "That's exactly what I am, your sex school teacher. And you better do your homework." CHAPTER THREE Intimate dining, favorite food, candles, and soft background music. Wendy's pinched face betrayed her apprehension, Scott thought, as he followed her into her living room. The place was so Wendy, clean lines and no nonsense. The room's two smart-looking houndstooth love seats faced each other. Zebra print pillows smothered a side chair, matching a zebra print ottoman. Sleek, modern floor lamps towered beside each love seat. The furnishings weren't new. He recognized the pieces from her parents' house, but she'd added her own classy touch. She motioned him inside. "Hello, Scott." He thrust out his hand, clutching the awkward bouquet of roses he'd bought from a street vendor--a last minute impulse. "I thought Heather might like these."
"Uh uh uh. You broke role play." "I mean, Heather, I thought you'd like these." "Thank you, Scott." She cradled the cut flowers in her crooked arm, as if genuinely struck by his gesture. "I'll put them in water." Although eager for his lessons in seduction to begin, Scott didn't want to rush Wendy. Her reluctance to go along with his scheme hadn't escaped his notice, especially the part about going to bed together. Surely she didn't think he expected emotional involvement. His heart belonged to Heather. Always had, always would. Sex with Wendy wouldn't mean a thing... What was he thinking? Meaningless sex with Wendy, his best and truest friend? No wonder she seemed less than enthused at the prospect. While desperate to fix what had gone wrong with his marriage, he'd not thought about how he was using Wendy. But she had agreed to help him, so he wouldn't back out now. He'd do his best to make it up to her, though, somehow. He'd think of something. As a friend, Wendy was one in a million. "Would you like a drink?" Her voice broke through his reverie. "I have iced tea, diet sodas, or wine." "Tea would be fine, thanks." "Be right back. And for heaven's sake, have a seat and relax." Scott eased onto the end of one of the love seats while Wendy fetched drinks. Unlike Heather, who flitted around like a bumblebee, Wendy glided from room to room. He'd never met anyone with Heather's endless energy. He tired simply from watching her. Wendy seemed to accomplish as much but with economy of movement. She returned with two frosty tumblers of iced tea, handing him one. She sat beside him on the love seat. "Here." Thanking her, he sipped the lemony tea. Back to role-play, he asked, "So how was your day?" "My morning meeting ran over, which means I missed my lunch time run." "Bummer," he said, than winced. Bummer? Truth was, Scott's social skills had improved little from high school. "So would you want to run before we go to dinner? I have my gym bag in the car..." "You still run?" "Mostly in the evening, unless we're--I mean, I'm out too late." "Let's run, then, because I really don't like to miss exercising." Was the run a stall tactic? No, Wendy wouldn't procrastinate. She'd always been the go-getter. If she said she'd like to go jogging, she meant it. But how could he role-play a run? Heather wouldn't be caught dead sweating or working out. She depended on dieting and yoga to keep her in shape. Still, the idea was to learn to tune in to what women wanted. "I'll get my bag." "Finish your tea first. We have plenty of time." He swallowed more of his icy brew. "I thought we'd go to Regency Steaks at the Summit."
"What if we're seen?" "Huh? Are you breaking role-play?" She chewed her lower lip. "I guess I am. We need to talk about this. I assumed we'd do these pretend dates in private." "Why?" "You don't want word to get back to your wife that you're dating..." "Heather's never felt threatened by you. She knows we're friends, nothing more." "Still, I think Regency Steaks is a bit much. Couldn't we just go to Martini's for some pasta?" "My favorite place! But if I'm trying to impress Heather, don't I want to take her out to the most expensive restaurant in the city?" "I don't know about Heather. I go for intimate dining and my favorite food, like a cozy corner at Martini's with candles on the table. Soft background music encourages soft conversation. Regency's has live entertainment. How can you talk above that noise?" She drained her glass of tea. "I see your point." Scott followed her into the kitchen. "Look, can we suspend the role-playing until after we run?" "All right. We probably need to talk a little more about your strategy." She grinned, the first relaxed smile she'd had since he arrived. "Just don't run me so hard I can't breathe!" **** Exercising turned out to be a good idea. Wendy stepped from the shower onto the cool tile floor. No time for autoeroticism today, not with Scott in her guest bathroom. Tonight she'd have the real thing. Well, not the real thing, not with Scott. This was role play. She'd have sex with a man, but as a friend, not a lover. And she wasn't going to dwell on that a minute longer. She padded into her walk-in closet and pulled out a lime green sundress, a practical choice for a summer night in South Carolina. No pantyhose, either. She slid her feet into white sandals, then poked white hoops into her pierced ears. A quick swipe with scarlet lip color to match her nails and she was ready to go. Scott stepped from the hall bath as Wendy left her suite. His clean scent and damp hair, fresh from his shower, mingled with whatever aftershave remained on his suit. "If we're going to go for a run before our lessons, I'll need to keep a change of clothes in the car." "Suits me. Then I can use my lunch hour for errands and stuff." He broke into a smile, a rare sight since Heather had left him. "Great." "I'm getting hungry. Are we ready to go?" "I guess so." "Remember, for the rest of the evening I'm Heather. You're wooing me." His relaxed smile vanished. "Right. Let's go."
"Just be yourself, Scott." "Being myself wasn't good enough. I have to be more exciting and interesting." She shrugged. What could she say? Heather's a dope? Wendy sighed, wondering what the night would bring. Scott held open the door and waited for her on the landing while she locked up. "Martini's all right with you, Heather?" "Martini's is fine." Fine with Wendy, that is, but would it suit Heather? New doubts rushed through Wendy. Could she really be of any help to her best friend? **** Wendy ordered Farfalle primavera. "I'll have the same," Scott told the waiter. "It's my favorite. I can never get past it on the menu," Wendy said. "A decisive woman." He raised his glass of Chianti in a toast while thinking again about Heather. In reality, she'd never order a pasta dish. She'd munch on salad, which is why she never gained an ounce of fat on her slender bod. Had he fully appreciated every inch of flesh on that body of hers? He thought so, but... Oh, God, would he ever lie beside her gorgeous naked body again? Was it truly over? "Scott? Scott!" Wendy whispered. "What's wrong?" "Wrong? Nothing, why?" She frowned. "You look as if the wine gave you severe heartburn or something." "Sorry. My mind wandered there for a sec." "Bad day at work?" Bad day. Everyday would be awful if he couldn't get Heather back. "Not really." "Tell me what you're working on now." "It's just coding and software testing. Boring stuff." "You never bore me, silly. You're the smartest guy I know." Had Heather thought him intelligent? She'd teased him, called him her compu-nerd. But had she meant it respectfully? Evidently he wasn't sharp enough to pick up on her dissatisfaction. Wendy soaked up his programming tales like a sponge. She'd been the one person whose respect he'd never doubted. Too bad he'd fallen for Heather instead of Wendy back in high school. On the other hand, he knew Wendy never thought of him in romantic terms. In fact, she's the one who'd been kind--and candid--enough to tell him why he couldn't attract girls. She'd found him unattractive from the get-go, although she'd not exactly said so. As he chatted now about his new projects and the routine software testing he'd run all day, Scott's mind strayed back to high school and the question of why Heather had appealed to him while Wendy had not. Shallower then, he'd focused on Heather's looks. She'd been every guy's dream in her cheerleading uniform with its short, short skirt. Her slender legs tapered at the ankles. Her tits tented the letter-sweater in two perfect mounds. Her cheeks rosy from exertion, not blush, something he'd not seen since she'd
graduated to yoga. Wendy, on the other had, was far from perfection, but cute. She had wild red hair that she'd tamed in a single long braid. Gentle freckles dotted her nose. Now the freckles hid beneath makeup and her hair behaved in a sensible shorter cut. Actually, Wendy was pretty, especially with her full lips and clear blue eyes. He'd never really noticed her eyes before, probably because of her ever-present glasses. She'd switched to contacts, then convinced him to. By then he was hopelessly smitten with Heather, so he'd hardly remembered anything about Wendy's eyes. She gazed at him now, her reddish lashes darkened with mascara framing those powder blue irises. Reflections from the table's single candle danced in her eyes. For the first time since high school, when jock Ronnie Williams had broken her heart, Scott wondered about Wendy's love life. Did guys appreciate her sincere and attentive gaze, her no-nonsense candor? Her pouty, kissable lips? Kissable lips? Where had that come from? CHAPTER FOUR Get into her head before you get her in bed Scott stopped in mid-sentence. "This isn't working." The vacuum in his eyes puzzled her. Ordinarily, she could read Scott's mood, but not this. "What's not working?" He threw his red-checkered napkin onto the table. "The role-playing. You don't act like Heather--" "Then tell me what to do." "You mean, tell you how Heather would react or what she'd say?" "Yes. Help me get into role, so to speak." "It's complicated." "Look, I agreed to help you and I'll do whatever you need me to do." Even sleep with you. She swallowed the last sip of her wine. Scott blew out a long breath. "Okay. For starters, Heather wouldn't ask about my day. She'd say she doesn't speak computers and laugh." "I see." Stupid, stupid Heather. Did she have any idea how brilliant her husband was? "Second, we wouldn't be lingering over this meal. She'd want to eat, then rush off to our next social engagement." "Social engagement?" They were married twenty-somethings. Wendy had trouble picturing Heather at a benefit ball or a museum fundraiser. The ballet? "We'd meet some friends for drinks at Harper's or Titan's. Or we'd be invited over to someone's house to watch episodes of "Friends" on DVD." "I don't understand. If you were on the go so much, when were you supposed to have wild sex?" "Late at night. Heather has a lot of energy."
And a lot of ego, Wendy thought. "You're right, then. This isn't going to work. I'm no energetic night owl." "Maybe that's the problem. I should look into herbal supplements..." "Bullshit." She blurted the epithet without thinking. "I'm sorry, Scott, but you shouldn't take all the blame." "I'm the only one I can change, Wendy. Then I have to hope it's enough." Bleakness filled his eyes for a brief moment, replaced immediately with a steeled determined look. "All right. But I need to revise the lesson plans." "What do you mean?" She shrugged. "I don't know if I can help you. I have the willingness, but may not have the capability..." "You do. You're one of the most sexually competent people I know." Did he think her promiscuous? A swinger? "What the hell makes you think I'm an authority?" "Aren't you? You've never steered me wrong..." "I know what I like, but I'm not so sure about Heather. This isn't high school." "So you said. But you still can tell me what I'm doing wrong, can't you? That's all I'm asking." She raised both palms in a frustrated gesture. "But you aren't doing anything wrong!" He lowered his voice. "I mean, in bed." "Haven't you heard the expression 'you have to get into her head before you get her in bed?'" He thought he knew Heather, but he'd been blindsided by her departure. Who knew what went on in her head? "I don't expect you to know Heather's mind. Just help me develop the requisite skills to ... you know, satisfy her." Wendy's lips curved into a tense smile. "All right. Let's get out of here." CHAPTER FIVE Never, ever underestimate the power of kissing. In the privacy of her bathroom, Wendy splashed cold water over her face while Scott waited for her in her bedroom. Leaving him to undress, she now braced herself for a naked encounter with her best buddy. She had to undress, too. How else could she proceed with Scott's lessons? They'd always been close, comfortable in each other's presence. They'd even seen each other partially dressed. Now a trembling seized her, a fluttering of nerves she hadn't expected. Toweling dry, she gazed at her troubled reflection in the mirror. Put aside your own self-consciousness, Wendy. Do this for Scott. She opened the door and froze. Naked to the waist, Scott had not yet removed his slacks. He had turned out the lights and lit her bedroom with two votive candles he must have moved from the guest bath. Shadows flickered against the walls and ceilings. The soft glow imbued the room with romance.
"Scott, this is nice." "I-I thought you'd feel less self-conscious in dim lighting." Moved that her friend had sensed her sudden shyness, Wendy swallowed. No man had ever shown her this much tenderness. But Scott was her friend. Surely he'd be as sensitive to his wife. "It's a nice touch. I recommend doing this for Heather." He nodded. "You can still back out if..." "We've talked about this. It'll seem strange if we think about it as two friends making love. You must pretend I'm Heather." "Role play. I remember. But what about you? Who will you pretend I am?" "That, dear friend, is none of your concern." She winked. "Just focus on honing your craft." In truth, she had no fantasy lover. She'd always been disappointed with guys who interested her, once she slept with them. "I don't know where to begin." He finger-combed his hair. "If you're Heather, and I have you in the bedroom, I can't just tell you to jump into bed naked." "Now you're catching on. Remember that seduction begins with a look and a touch. And never, ever underestimate the power of kissing. Too many couples who've been together a while just fall in the sack and bypass the kissing." "Guilty." "Don't feel bad. A lot of couples skip foreplay, but it'll turn sex into routine." Wendy didn't add that she spoke from experience. Once guys were successful in bedding her, they'd lost interest in seduction. One by one she'd lost interest, too, and abandoned the search for a perfect lover. Was that the reason behind her nervousness now? "You're a bundle of nerves, Wendy. Let me give you a shoulder rub before we start." He slid onto the bed behind her and grasped her shoulders. "That would be so great." His thumbs kneaded the tight muscles between her shoulder blades. "Yes, that's the spot." "I feel a knot there. You don't want a muscle spasm. Those cramp like hell." "Start now. Pretend I'm Heather and you're massaging my back." His fingers worked their magic and eased some of the tension in her back. "How's that?" "Better, but don't stop. Not yet." "I can feel the knot dissolving. Want me to move to the neck?" She closed her eyes and surrendered to his massage. "Hmm. Yes." His breath warmed her ear. "I can massage other parts of your body, too." Oh, my! She suppressed a gasp, remembering the role-playing. Of course. She was Heather and he was working on his foreplay skills. But his mouth at her ear cranked up her own arousal, a sudden and
unexpected response. "A full body massage? How intriguing." "Interested?" He continued kneading her back and neck muscles, adding a light kiss at her nape. Goosebumps sprang up and heat shot through her. What was that about? She was much too young for hot flashes. "Oh, yes, very interested." Would Heather say that? Wendy couldn't think about Heather at the moment. The kisses at her neck tantalized her. Without further thought, she turned her head just as his lips aimed for her ear and her mouth captured them. Suddenly his hands abandoned the back rub. He turned her around to face him, then angled his mouth for a better kiss. He seemed totally in role, thinking she was Heather, judging from the way his lips moved against hers. His gentle pressure grew bold. He slipped his tongue between her lips and she opened for him. He deepened the kiss, sliding his hands beneath her breasts, inching closer to her sensitive nipples. Raw yearning possessed her. She ached for his hands on her breasts, stroking and... Wait a minute. She was the teacher here. She should tell him exactly what she needed. Covering his hands with her own, she moved them to her breasts, showing him how to stimulate the sensitive nubs. With the thin fabric of her gown the only barrier, his fingers rubbed tiny circles, over and over, until she nearly cried out for completion. Quickly she recovered at least a shred of her composure. This wasn't about her orgasm. This was about Scott's lesson. The speed with which he'd learned told her either he was in little need of tutoring or Heather had mysterious needs. He slid the gown's strap from her shoulder, his mouth seeking her exposed nipple. Instead of suckling, he gave the hardened nub a lick, then blew on it, his breath teasing and tantalizing her. When had he removed her gown? It lay puddled at her waist. He tugged it over her hips, then pulled it free, tossing it to the floor. His mouth remained fixed to hers throughout the process. He pulled back and gazed at her naked body. How strange to have Scott stare at her. How strange to be with him, nude! "Nice." His admiring gaze swept over her body. "Aren't you going to undress, too?" Her voice squeaked, betraying her nervousness. She swallowed. "I'd like to reciprocate." But would Heather? "Not yet." He grinned, then returned his mouth to her body, blazing a trail from her neck and shoulders to each breast, then lower. "Tell me what you want." "Tell me what you have in mind, lover. Talk to me." "Oh, I see." He paused in thought and she nearly screamed for him to return his mouth to her nipples. But he'd progressed beyond her breasts. "I'm going to lick my way down to your pussy. Then I'm going to use my tongue to make you scream out in mindless pleasure." Oh, my! Scott had never spoken like this before. Well, not to her, anyway. She wondered if he talked dirty to Heather. Then she lost track of thinking altogether. True to his threat, he licked his way to her clitoris and drew the sensitive bud into his mouth. He moved to the floor and lifted her legs to his shoulders.
Oh my God. He'd hardly begun and she already started trembling. His tongue licked her into a frenzy of need. The sensation intensified until she threatened to pass out. She tensed, then shattered. But Scott didn't stop. He moved lower, still, licking her vagina, lapping up her cum. Then he surprised her further with his expertise. He blew at her clitoris, arousing her again, while sliding two fingers deep inside her. He probed until he found it, the sensitive G spot she rarely touched. His tongue returned to her clit, this time in rhythm with his fingers. Her second orgasm came quickly, a vaginal one this time. Scott performed remarkably well for a man whose wife found him boring. But Wendy didn't dwell on that now. She ached to return the favor and reached for his pants. "My turn." He didn't protest, and she saw why. His aroused penis strained against the fabric, probably painfully so. His naked penis proved to be more than she could resist. She sat up on the bed and guided him into her mouth as he stood, not giving him the chance to join her on the bed. His flesh was hot and hard, and salty. She used her tongue as he had used his, licking the sensitive head while kneading the shaft with her hand. He grabbed her shoulders, squeezing to keep his balance. "Oh, Jeez, honey, I'm going to come." He pulled away, as if to withdraw. Did he think she found him distasteful? Was that how Heather behaved? But Wendy didn't want to think about role playing now. She was having the best sex of her life and she wouldn't spoil it with thoughts of Heather. He leaned against her, no longer able to stand. She followed his movement with her mouth, staying with him and milking him as he spurted into her mouth. Warm, delicious...not at all unpleasant. Funny, she'd never done this before. Oral sex, yes. But to let a guy come in her mouth had no appeal. Why had she wanted Scott's? "I'm sorry," Scott said, once his breathing returned to normal. "Oh, Scott, there's not a sorry bone in your body. That was fantastic." "Really?" He beamed, then pulled her into his arms for a kiss. He tasted musky, the way she smelled when she climaxed. It mingled with the salty taste of semen and should have grossed her out. Instead, it drove her wild to repeat the experience. Her pelvic muscles clenched, her clit tingled. Her breasts ached for his touch. He was probably spent for the night. Maybe. But maybe she could revive him. She deepened the kiss, imitating what she'd done to his penis with his tongue, tugging and sucking him into her mouth. Her hands roamed the hard planes of his torso, then zeroed in on their target, his genitals. She reached beneath his balls and gave them a gentle squeeze. When she massaged the sensitive area underneath, Scott moaned. He hardened immediately, ready for Round Two. CHAPTER SIX Your partner needs to know what feels good to you, too. "Christ!" Scott closed his eyes, giving in to Wendy's erotic massage. Whoa, not Wendy. Heather. He needed to be learning to please her, not seek his own pleasure. Manohmanohman! How could he concentrate with her talented fingers driving him crazy? His nerve endings ached from sexual overload.
He moved his hands to her tits. Yes, she'd liked that, hadn't she? He thumbed her nipples, kneaded her breasts, and succeeded in slowing her efforts. Good. He'd been about to come again, and he hadn't even ripped open his first condom packet. He found her mouth again and kissed her with fervor, hoping to arouse her as she had him. She tasted like wine and bleach--or was that semen? He found the idea of tasting what she'd so generously swallowed wild and erotic. Heather had never swallowed. Hell, she'd given him little more than a lick and a promise. He'd convinced himself that blow jobs were overrated...until now. He rocked against her hands as she rubbed up and down, up and down. He deepened the kiss, probing deeply with his tongue into every recess of her mouth. She moaned and arched forward, her hands abandoning his dick. Squeezing his shoulders, she pushed him back onto the bed, breaking the kiss. "Don't make me wait any longer," she said in a strained voice. Was she close to completion again? Gawd, what a sexy woman. "Okay, baby, how do you want it?" Smug that he'd remembered to ask--this was a lesson in pleasing a woman, after all--he was rewarded with her grin. "Very good, stud. You're learning." He kept at her nipples, his mouth replacing his hands, until he made her whimper and beg. Still, she didn't tell him what she needed him to do. Determined to hear her explicit instructions, he stopped, gazing up into her flushed face. Her lids drooped over her eyes. Her swollen lips parted. He couldn't wait much longer to drive himself deep inside her. "Tell me." "This way's fine." She wanted on top. Heather always wanted to be on top. He brushed aside his disappointment. For once, he'd like to dominate their love-making. Yet, she was supposed to be Heather, right? He'd better focus on pleasing her, not himself. "Help me with the condom." "My pleasure," she purred. In truth, Scott wasn't sure he could get the damn thing on properly. With Heather on the pill, he'd not used rubbers. He had to protect Wendy, though. "Thanks." Then her hands touched him, stretching the latex over him, and his thoughts scattered. He gritted his teeth to keep from filling the condom right then. Slick and hot, Wendy took him inside her and slid herself over his engorged dick with her wet pussy. Moving atop him, she managed to shove herself further down his shaft, taking him deeper. Mother of God, that felt good! He sucked in a breath, prolonging his release until she'd climaxed. She rode him then, finding a rhythm, up and down, up and down, up and down... Scott teetered on the brink of coming, struggling for control. But the tingling mushroomed into white-hot pain, but pleasurable pain. Just as he feared he'd explode into a million pieces, Wendy clenched her muscles tight against him, trapping his penis deep inside her. "Oh, Scott!" She screamed, stilled, then collapsed against him. Her vaginal muscles squeezed him with tiny spasms. He came, emptying himself into the condom, riding wave after wave of the most sensational climax he remembered experiencing, ever. But that wasn't right. No, he couldn't be having great sex with a woman other than Heather. Sexy, lovely Heather. It was really all right, though, since he'd imagined she was Heather, right? Too spent to dwell on that thought, he drifted off to sleep.
CHAPTER SEVEN A change in venue adds excitement. Wendy blinked to clear her eyes. She'd fallen asleep wearing her contacts again. She needed to remove them. She sniffed at the waxy aroma in the room. She also needed to extinguish those candles. Struggling through the fog of slumber, she forced her exhausted body to move. As she reached for the sheet, her fingers encountered hair and flesh...an arm. Reality jolted her awake. Scott. They'd had sex, then fallen asleep. Her gaze raked over his body, covered only halfway with the sheet. A fine body it was, too, for a computer geek. He still wore the condom, although it threatened to drop off his now flaccid penis. She hated to wake him, but she also hated wet spots. "Scott." She kissed his shoulder, then his cheek. He smiled but didn't appear to awaken. "Scott." His eyes opened. "Huh? What time is it?" "Almost two. We need to, uh, clean up." "Oh. Yeah." With slow, careful movements, he slid out of bed without leaving a mess. "I'll be right back." She followed him into the bathroom, then stopped at the door. "I guess I should give you some privacy." "That's your call. I don't mind sharing the bathroom." He broke into a smile and winked. "In fact, I'd be happy to help you clean up." She needed more than just a clean up. The odor of sex surrounded her like a fog bank. "I was thinking about a quick shower." He tossed the condom into the waste basket. "How about I join you?" "Sounds like fun." Was this her bashful friend, Scott? "Let me grab another condom ... just in case." She leaned in to turn on the water, then adjusted the temperature. Testing the spray, she pushed aside the vinyl curtain and stepped inside the tub. Scott returned, foil packet in hand, and crowded into the small space behind her. "Want me to wash your back?" he asked. "Hmm. Sounds heavenly." Except it wasn't her back he soaped and massaged. It was her breasts, especially her nipples. She sucked in a deep breath. "Did I hurt you?" "I'm a little tender, is all." She wasn't accustomed to the intense stimulation she'd experienced tonight. "I'll be gentle." And he was. In fact, Scott defined "gentleman." He may try too hard to please, may not have experience and confidence, but he never failed to show consideration and tenderness. Why couldn't she find a man like Scott, a guy who'd be as devoted to her as Scott was to Heather?
But she didn't want a man. She kept forgetting that, or at least her body did. As pleasant as tonight had been, she didn't want a man in her bed and in her space every night. Why was she having these crazy thoughts? He kneaded her breasts, then slid his soap-slick hands lower, lathing her navel. Then lower. Her crazy thoughts scattered in twenty directions, along with her ability to think any further. "Oh, my," she whispered when his hands slid into her feminine folds. With gentleness, he drew slow, lazy circles around her clitoris, not quite touching the sensitive center. She rocked against him in rhythm with his massaging fingers, finding her own pleasure at her own pace. Maybe the water temperature rose, or maybe her blood heated from the intensity of sex. She grew hot and flushed. The water brought no relief. Her flesh burned. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tightened her muscles. Sensation after sensation spiraled within her, then burst free in a shattering climax. She dissolved into a boneless mass, supported only by Scott's strong arms. A low growl escaped from her as she struggled to catch her breath. Water sprayed over her, dripping across her sensitized nipples, arousing her all the more. "My God, Scott, are you trying to kill me?" "I'm sorry, baby. Did I hurt you?" He planted a soft kiss at her neck. "Not at all." She laughed. "Good, because there's more where that came from." He pushed his hardened member against her back. "You're an animal," she teased, turning to face him. "Now where's the damn condom?" He ripped open the packet, then handed her the rubber. With unexpected feelings of urgency, she sheathed him quickly. His hot, wet flesh trembled beneath her fingers. So maybe he was as nervous as she. She wanted him inside her, now, but she'd wait for him to make the move. He needed to learn assertiveness for his own pleasure. So far, he'd certainly attended to hers. In spades. She just hoped the hot water didn't run out before he took her. Nothing like a cold shower... "Turn back around." She faced the shower wall. With one hand, he reached between her legs and fingered her. Already wet and aroused, she was eager to accept him. His other hand returned to her clit as he entered her. Driving his penis deep, he matched his movement with his hand, sandwiching her in glorious stimulation. Her swift climax took her by surprise as she rocked against his talented fingers. But he didn't stop to rest. He drove deeper still, rocking into her until her vaginal muscles erupted into a multitude of spasms. She collapsed into his arms, exhausted and pleasured beyond her wildest dreams. **** Scott couldn't take his eyes off Wendy's body as he gently toweled her dry. Fortunately, they'd finished the shower before the cold water hit. Barely. He'd never realized what a nice figure Wendy had. She had shapely legs and great tits, just the right size. And her toned arms tapered into delicate hands. More athletic than Heather's body, it was just as sexy. Damn, he was growing hard again. The late hour and the stress of his marital problems were taking their toll. His confused thinking and unsettled feelings about Wendy proved the point.
"I need to leave." She smiled at him. "I know." God, her lips needed more kissing. What a terrific mouth she had! He dropped the towel and covered her mouth. He resisted deepening the kiss, knowing he was too close to arousal again. He pushed away. "When's my next lesson?" Her smile slipped. "Come over tomorrow. We'll run, then critique." "Put me out of my misery. Am I learning?" "Learning? You taught me a thing or two, lover boy. If I didn't know better, I'd think this was all a ploy to get in my pants." "You don't have to say that." "You're right. So you know I'm telling the truth. We'll talk more tomorrow." She stifled a yawn. She had to be exhausted. They'd had a hot sex marathon tonight. Then why wasn't he tired? Why did he feel as if he could have another go? He'd sort it all out tomorrow. Reluctantly, he finished dressing. Wendy walked him to her door. "Be careful driving home." "Okay. See you tomorrow." He couldn't resist just one last kiss goodnight. But whom was he kissing? He'd forgotten to role play. CHAPTER EIGHT Strive for the unexpected; surprise your lover. "Why can't you go with us tonight?" Lisa asked Wendy the next afternoon. Wendy handed her a diet soda as she slid atop the bar stool. "Scott's coming over and we're going for a run." "Scott? Be careful, Wendy. It's too soon. You know he's rebounding." Wendy sighed. "It's not like that. We're friends, nothing more." "Whatever." Lisa flaunted her new bi-color manicure in a dismissive wave. "All I know is something is different about you today. I noticed at work you seemed..." "Busy?" "...pensive." Lisa paused to drink, admiring her outstretched hand. Tiny stars adorned the darker shade of lavender nail polish. "You know the pressure I've been under since my job change..." "...promotion." Lisa grinned. Although Wendy's co-worker, she'd held no feelings of resentment nor jealousy that Wendy could see after she'd made office manager. Ever since going to work at the textile giant's home office in Columbia, Lisa had quickly become Wendy's friend and confidant. "I know work pressure. This is more, and I'm a bit concerned about you, girlfriend." "I'm not sure what it is, Lisa. Honest. I'm not holding out on you. I just need to sort it all out first, is all."
"Sort what out? Come on." Lisa abandoned the soda and patted Wendy's hand. "I'm helping Scott in his campaign to win back Heather." Reticent at first, Wendy suddenly needed to talk about the swirl of conflicting emotions she'd battled since Scott had left that morning. "He's hoping to reconcile." Lisa's frown deepened. "That's not going to happen." "What do you mean?" "That's one of the things I wanted to tell you. Look, you know these people better than I do. You went to high school, then college with them, right?" "Yeah. So?" "Well, maybe I'm wrong, but I think Heather Drysdale has herself a new guy. I saw her with a real stud-muffin last night at Titan's. They were very cozy." Wendy snorted. "She didn't waste any time, did she?" "My theory is, Mr. Stud Muffin has been in the picture for a while." "So Heather dumps Scott for another guy, but crushes his ego in the process, telling him he just doesn't measure up in bed." Wendy murmured, forgetting that Lisa heard every word. "Oh, my. I shouldn't have said--" "Relax. I won't repeat that to anyone. Scott's so sweet, I'd never hurt or embarrass him." Lisa could keep her mouth shut, which was why she'd been one of Wendy's few trusted friends. Other than Scott, of course. "Heather doesn't deserve him." "I agree." "So she actually gave his lackluster performance in the sack as her reason for leaving him?" At Wendy's nod, Lisa returned to her drink. "What a bitch." "He asked me to help him improve his, er, performance." Lisa froze, her mouth agape. "You slept with him, didn't you!" Unbidden tears filled Wendy's eyes at Lisa's outburst. Not that she feared Lisa's judgment. Lisa wasn't one to preach. No, it was the finality of the words, the worry that filled Lisa's eyes, that drove home exactly what had happened to her last night. She'd slept with Scott. And it hadn't been without feeling. "Oh, Wendy, honey. Don't you know better than to have sex with a guy who just broke up with his wife?" "He's my best friend. I thought I could handle it." Scott needed her. Of course, she would handle it. Get a grip, Wendy! "I mean, I can handle it. It's just--" "I think you're finding out that meaningless sex leaves you feeling empty, right?" Wendy gnawed at her lower lip. "I don't know. Somehow, it didn't feel meaningless." "Uh oh."
"Yeah, 'uh oh.' I kept forgetting I was nothing but a stand-in for Heather. He was practicing on me. But, oh, Lisa..." Lisa peered at her. "What?" "I've gone to bed with guys before, although not really that many. You know that. But none was as considerate, as tender, as ... as concerned with my pleasure as Scott. It may have been meaningless sex, but it didn't leave me empty. It left me feeling, oh, I don't know..." "Used?" Lisa offered. "Not really." She shrugged. "More like, hopeful." "Hopeful? You lost me." "After Scott moves on, whether it's back to Heather or whomever, I'm going to try again. Maybe I haven't kissed enough toads. But now that I know what I've been missing, I'm not so willing to give up on men. Yet." "Autoeroticism isn't enough, eh?" "I didn't say that. But I will concede that I couldn't possibly imitate the sex I had last night." "That good, eh?" Wendy grinned. "Unbelievable." "Uh oh." **** The city park was crowded with walkers and skaters. Scott matched his pace to Wendy's, breathing easily as they jogged. Today Wendy wore one of those halter top thingies that resembled a thick bra. Lime green, it matched her headband and the stripes in her skimpy running shorts. The woman had a set of legs on her, that's for sure. Soaked in sweat, his own singlet clung annoyingly to his torso. "Sure is humid today." "You've lived your whole life in the south, but you've never stopped complaining about the humidity." "I know. What I don't know is how you ever got me out on that track after school to run." "You wanted to shape up, remember?" He grinned at the memory. " Sometimes I'm convinced Columbia is the hottest city in the country." "We're not close enough to the ocean or the mountains to benefit from either. But I wouldn't care to live anywhere else, would you?" They slowed as they reached the water fountain. "I never thought about it much." "I need a drink." He held the lever open and cool water arced into the bowl. "You first."
She seemed surprised. "Thanks." "One more lap and I'm done, okay?" he asked, after they'd returned to the path. "Works for me." They jogged out of the park, then up the sidewalk to where he'd parked his Saturn. After spreading beach towels on the seats, they got in and buckled up. "Want to grab some barbecue and take it back to your place?" "Don't like my cooking?" "I do like your cooking, but I don't expect meals as part of the bargain." He pulled out into traffic, then turned down the side street that ran alongside the city's most popular barbecue joint. "You're doing so much for me already, Wendy. Let me at least buy you dinners." She didn't say anything to that. At the stop sign, he stole a glance. She stared out the window, a sad frown on her face. Had he really hurt her feelings? But what had he said wrong? "Hey," he said. "Are you okay?" "Sure." "Is barbecue take-out all right? I didn't mean to be bossy." "Barbecue is fine, Scott." Something in her voice tugged at his heart, but he couldn't figure out what. Back at her apartment, she seemed to be her usual self again. She cleared the counter for the bags of take-out. "You want to shower first, or eat?" Shower immediately brought back images of last night's sex in the bathtub. He hardened instantly at the memory. What on earth... Thanks to Heather, he'd turned into a sex fiend. She'd challenged him with her accusations and he was proving her wrong with a vengeance. Suddenly, he didn't want to eat or shower. All he wanted was another go at Wendy. When Heather came back, she'd be amazed and pleased at the new Scott. "Neither." From behind her, he slid his arms around her waist and pulled her against him, his intentions unmistakable. "N-neither?" "I'm not ready to eat or shower." He kissed a trail down her neck, then French-kissed her ear. She leaned her back into him. "Then tell me what you do want, Scott." What had Wendy told him? Talk to your partner when having sex. Talk dirty. Trust me, it's a turn-on. "I want to fuck you, first with my tongue, then with my cock. I want to fuck you right here on this counter." She swirled around to face him. Her face reddened, but not with anger. No, she smiled. A good smile. "Oh, my. As tempting as that sounds, I think I'm too sweaty and smelly. Body odor can be a turn-off." Body odor? "Call me kinky, but I'm hardly turned off. You've been driving me wild with those skimpy
shorts." He slid his fingers inside the panty lining of the running shorts, finding his way through her curls and folds to the slick opening. "I feel dampness, but I don't think it's sweat." She leaned into him as he thrust three fingers into her opening. "Oh, Gawd, Scott. How can you ... Oh, my!" "Did I mention finger-fucking?" He'd never talked this rough in his life, at least never around a woman. What alien had invaded his body and emboldened him? She whimpered when he stopped, but he didn't want her peaking this early. He had plans. Interesting plans. She'd be surprised. He slipped out of his own nylon shorts, releasing his engorged penis. His singlet landed on the kitchen floor behind him, along with her halter-bra. Covering her mouth with his, he gave her a deep, probing kiss. He managed to push her shorts to her ankles without breaking the kiss. She stepped out of the shorts and stood before him, gloriously sweaty and naked. Hygiene forgotten, he hoisted her to the breakfast bar and spread her legs wide apart. Then he proceeded to keep his promises. "Lie back," he said. Pushing aside the bags of take-out, he leaned her over the counter. Then he lifted her legs to his shoulders and licked his way around her wet pussy. Yes, she was sweaty and there was odor, but not offensive as she'd feared. He tasted her moisture, lapping at her outer lips while his fingers resumed their inner probing. She writhed and moaned but didn't resist. He'd never had a woman's complete trust like this, certainly never Heather's. But she was pretending to be Heather. He had to remember that. Wendy's legs squeezed him as she stiffened, then came. He smiled against her as her orgasm milked his fingers. He pulled his hand away, then wiped her own fluid against her sensitive nub. "Stay right there." He raced across the room to his slacks to retrieve a condom. This time, he didn't trust himself to let her sheathe him. He managed on his own, then returned to where she lay, sprawled over the breakfast bar. Scott positioned himself so he could enter her without moving her. He liked her position of total surrender, then wondered if he was some kind of pervert. Was he into kinky stuff, like bondage? Hmm. The vision of Wendy--Heather! He meant Heather--tied with scarves to a four-poster bed didn't seem kinky. It excited him further. Yes, he'd never considered bondage before, but now put it at the top of his list for surprising his lover. He drove in hard, rewarded by a satisfied murmur from Wendy. Then he pumped and pumped, while his thumbs gently rubbed at her sex. They came together, fast and screaming, the most intense orgasm he'd ever had in his life. Afterward, they moved to the shower. By the time they returned to the breakfast bar, the barbecue was cold. Not that he cared. CHAPTER NINE Always compliment your lover. "When do I get my critique?" Scott asked.
Wendy cleared away the remains of their barbecue take-out. She didn't think she could ever dine at her breakfast bar again without remembering how wantonly she'd surrendered herself there to Scott. Her face warmed at the thought. "Let's grab a Coke and go into the living room, all right?" "I'll get them." He crowded past her and headed toward the refrigerator. His fresh-shower scent reminded her of another round of sex with Scott. Shy, unsure of himself, he was nonetheless very intelligent and inventive. Very inventive. He followed her to one of the love seats, handing her a diet cola. "Thanks, Scott." "Did I pass?" He collapsed beside her. "Pass?" "Yeah, Teach. Do I at least get a C minus?" He gave her a shy grin. "I'm going to level with you. If your sex with Heather was anything like you've been with me the last two days..." "It wasn't." He averted his gaze, concentrating on the pull tab of the drink can as if he needed detailed instructions to operate the thing. "I've been experimenting, like you told me. You know, trying different locations, asserting myself, tuning in to my partner's needs and moods..." "You're a damn quick study, then." He jerked his head up, facing her. "I am?" "Don't be so modest, Scott. You've given me the best sex of my life. Incredible, adventurous, pleasurable sex." God love him, he beamed at her words. "I give you an A minus." "A minus?" A huge grin spread across his eager face. "Really?" She nodded. "The minus is for insecurity. You need to show a tad more confidence, is all." "Your flattering appraisal will quickly take care of my confidence level. Thanks, Wendy." He placed his soda can on the end table, then held out his arms. She sank against him as he embraced her. They were back on familiar ground now, hugging as best friends, not lovers. "Wendy?" "Hmm?" "For what it's worth, you're amazing. You're sexy and passionate and generous. If I've learned to be a good lover, it's a credit to you." Suddenly shy from his flattery, she ducked her head into his chest. "Glad I could help." "You've helped. You always help me. I don't know what I'd do without you." His words of friendship brought a sob to her throat that she battled to contain. Was she touched by the depth of his friendship? Or was she saddened that the charade they'd been playing wasn't real? Struggling to compose herself, she pulled away from his arms and rose from the love seat. "Friends forever, right?" "Absolutely," he said, lifting his drink in a toast.
She paced the room, trying to shake the uneasiness plaguing her. Or was it simple fatigue? After all, she'd slept very little the previous night. "I hate to throw you out, Scott, but I'm going to have to get some shut-eye. Busy day tomorrow." "Sure." He drained his soda, then crushed the empty can. He'd definitely been working out, judging from his powerful arm muscles. "Are we on for tomorrow, then? Lesson number three?" She took the crushed can for her recyclables bin. Lesson number three? The guy didn't need lessons. Why didn't she just tell him he'd graduated? There was no further need for practice. But she didn't say so. Instead, she nodded. She followed him to the door, expecting him to leave so she could lock the dead bolt. Instead, he hesitated, then pulled her to him in a one-arm embrace. He placed a tender kiss on her lips. "I look forward to tomorrow, then." **** What the hell was the matter with him? Scott berated himself during the drive back to his house. First, he'd ignored Wendy's hint that he needed no more lessons. She thought he was ready, but he knew better. Then there was that good-bye kiss. No role play about it, he wanted to kiss Wendy. He sure as hell couldn't blame it on celibacy! The worst thing was, he'd failed to level with her about Heather. He'd started to, even hinted, but in the end had chickened out. How could he tell Wendy that he'd never, ever been the lover to Heather that he'd been with her. Lover? No, that was an uncomfortable word. Partner. Yeah, partner. Why was that, anyway? He didn't want to use or hurt Wendy. The longer they continued these sex lessons, the more their friendship was at risk. He'd already wrestled with confusion. Trying to sleep last night--this morning, actually--it had been Wendy's face he'd envisioned. Wendy's flushed skin, swollen lips, heavy-lidded eyes, so passionate and sexy, had haunted his dreams. Guilt had awakened him. He'd been unfaithful to Heather, as bizarre as that seemed. But he couldn't dispel the notion. He'd had the best sex of his life and it had been with another woman. Like Wendy, he needed shut-eye. They'd lost a lot of rest last night, not that he minded. Not one bit, despite the mixed emotions. He'd just crawl into bed, get a good night's sleep, then think with a clear and rested mind tomorrow. He pulled into the driveway of the bungalow he'd shared with Heather. What in the world? Heather's car was parked in its usual space. The lights were on inside the house. His heart beat triple time. Heather had come back! She'd come to her senses, wanted to salvage their marriage. He yanked the keys from the ignition, then bolted from the Jeep. He considered running, but remembered Wendy's words. Show confidence. He refused to rush in like an eager, lovesick puppy, even though that's exactly what he was. With shaking hands, he opened the door and strolled into the house. "Hello, Heather." "Where have you been? I've been sitting here all evening." She crossed her arms beneath her tits, which drew his attention to them immediately. "Really?" Play it cool, Scott. "I wasn't expecting you." "I need to talk to you. It's important."
"Okay. Just let me put away my laptop and gym bag. Help yourself to a drink." "I already have." Taking his time just to aggravate her--when had he become so cocky?--he returned to the living room and joined her on the sofa. She tucked a strand of her silky blond hair behind her ear. "Now, what's so important?" His insides trembled as he braced himself. Surely, she'd had second thoughts. She wanted to give their marriage another try. She realized she still loved him... "I'm filing for divorce." Divorce. He couldn't find his voice. All he could do was stare at her. Stare, and focus on keeping his mouth from dropping open. "I-I thought you should hear it from me first, before you're served with papers." "Thanks," he muttered. "I promise to be more than fair with the property settlement." He nodded, thinking it was time to call an attorney. He hated this shit. Heather fidgeted with her hands, not meeting his gaze. Maybe this wasn't easy for her, but what about him? If she filed for divorce, how could he ever win her back? Show off his new sexual expertise? He hadn't realized, until this moment, that she wanted nothing more to do with him or their marriage. She cleared her throat. "I also think you should know that I've ... that is, there's ... there's someone else in my life now. I didn't want you caught off-guard if you heard about him." Red-hot anger filled him, but he tamped it down. Did she really expect him to believe she'd found someone else in three days' time? His eyes burned, but he contained his rage. Refusing to show his hurt and humiliation, he stood, turning toward the foyer. "Is there anything else?" "That's the reason I came." "Fine. You can leave now." She stood, frowning. "Scott, I'm sorry..." "Just go, Heather." Before I fall apart, dammit! CHAPTER TEN Ask your lover for what you need. They were on their second bottle of wine. Wendy frowned. She was drinking too much, but tomorrow was Saturday. What the hell. And Scott was too upset. He needed relaxing. She refilled his glass. "Now do you believe me?" "About what?" "You aren't a failure in bed. Heather just said that to keep from telling you she'd found someone else." God, how she hated dishing out the painful truth.
"No she didn't." He ran trembling fingers through his sandy hair. "She found someone else because I failed her in bed. If only I'd..." She covered his lips with her finger. "Hush. If onlys will drive you crazy." "Too late." His day's growth of whiskers and bleary eyes spoke volumes. "You didn't go to work today, did you?" "I telecommuted." "And how much did you actually work, huh?" She already knew the answer. She'd tried to convince him to go for a run, to no avail. He'd produced the bag with two bottles of Merlot, then plopped down on the loveseat. He'd only gotten up once, and that was to pee. Role play was over. They were back to their friends mode. The misery in his eyes tore at her heart. Damn, damn Heather! Scott was better off in the long run without the shallow Prima Donna, but he couldn't see it now. "I'm sorry I'm such a mess," he said. "Too much alcohol in too short of time. I can't metabolize it that fast." "No one can, silly. Don't worry about it." He talked on and on about the scientific reasons people got drunk. Wendy let him ramble. Truth was, he was interesting even drunk. He was so damn smart. She'd always admired his intelligence and his insatiable appetite for knowledge. Few had appreciated it in high school, and not many in college. But Wendy was proud of her genius friend. Too bad Heather didn't have the brains God gave a goose. "Aren't you hungry?" she asked later. "No. I can't eat. I'd choke on food." "How about sharing a can of soup? I'm starved." He shook his head no. "You go ahead." "I'll set out two bowls in case you change your mind, all right?" She stood up and the room tilted. She waited to regain her equilibrium. Too much wine. She forced her wobbly legs to carry her to the kitchen. She barely remembered opening the can or heating the soup in the microwave oven. She heated a second bowl, placed it on the breakfast bar--again conjuring up images of their unbridled passion there the previous afternoon--and urged Scott to move to the bar stool. Pushing aside erotic memories before she did something inappropriate, like rip off his clothes and give him a blow job, she thought instead about Heather. Scott deserved better, yes, but he wanted Heather. His anguish tore at Wendy's heart and she felt powerless to help. Scott played with the noodles in his soup, but didn't eat. "It's late. I should leave." She couldn't let him drive home. He'd had far too much to drink. Nothing to eat. And he looked like hell. "You should stay." He'd have to sleep in her bed. Neither love seat was long enough for his nearly six-foot frame. Her second bedroom had no bed, only her computer equipment and collection of books she'd promised herself she'd read someday. Someday would come after she'd settled down in her new job.
"Thanks, Wendy. I know I'm a sloppy drunk..." "You and me, both." She laughed. "Come on. Let's go to bed." He slid off the stool, surprisingly steady on his feet, and stared. "You mean, together?" "Well, duh. It's not like we haven't slept together before." "I promise no funny stuff." She winked at him. "Oh, darn!" He gave her a puzzled frown. "I thought..." "Lighten up, Drysdale. I'm just trying to get you to relax. Don't worry. I will not molest your incredibly sexy body." Although she'd like nothing better. Anything to put the smile back in his eyes. He snorted, disbelief clouding his eyes. Still insecure Scott, but no wonder. Damn Heather. "Think I can shower first?" he asked as they passed the door to the guest bathroom. "Be my guest. I'll take one, too, then meet you in the bedroom." She didn't suggest they shower together. His heated gaze told her he, too, was thinking about their tryst in the bathtub. She fled for the master bath before she did something foolish, like ask him to join her. He was already in bed when she emerged from her bathroom a few minutes later. She towel-dried her hair, then decided she needed to blow-dry it before going to bed. By the time she returned, Scott appeared to be asleep. She crawled beneath the sheet, her back to him. His arm snaked around her and pulled her against him. He wasn't asleep. He was very much awake ... all of him. His breath warm against her ear, he whispered, "Wendy?" "Hmm?" "I need..." She waited, holding her breath. Did she want him to make love to her? He'd only be using her to assuage his broken heart. But sex could be healing, comforting. She was rationalizing, she knew, but her body didn't care. Her hardening nipples yearned for his touch. The juncture of her thighs ached for his tongue. She shouldn't have drunk so much wine. Her brain had abandoned her, her judgment dissolved. Maybe Scott would be using her, but wasn't she using him, too? Her sex toys forgotten, she wanted the real thing. Scott's real thing. She wanted him hard and deep inside her. She'd prove to him how sexy he was, how wrong Heather had been... "I know this isn't right..." "Just tell me, Scott." She covered his hand and squeezed. "Tell me what you need." "I need ... you." Yes, sex could be comforting, and she would give him love and comfort. "I'm all yours." By silent agreement, both removed their clothes, Wendy her gown and Scott his boxers. He touched her
reverently, slowly stroking her breasts with his thumbs. He rolled her beneath him and licked a trail from her neck to her navel. She lay there, allowing him total control to do whatever he needed. Scooting lower in the bed, he resumed his path to her clit. His tongue licked and licked, like a cat lapping up cream. The analogy wasn't too far fetched. Hot and juicy, she longed to have him inside her. She waited, though, letting him set the pace. This was about Scott's needs. "You are so hot," he said. She didn't know if he meant it as a compliment or an observation of her temperature. Heat flushed her skin, warming her to fever pitch. Oh, my... She exploded then, rocking her mound against his mouth as he continued to lick her. "Please, Scott," she whispered after catching her breath. "I want you inside me." "I wasn't planning this. I don't have protection." Protection? Yes, of course. They couldn't have sex without a condom. "I think I have some in my drawer." Rummaging through her nightstand, worried that Scott would see her dildo and vibrator, she finally found the box of condoms she'd bought last year for a date that had ultimately flopped. Hoping the damn things didn't expire--the last thing she'd need right now was a baby--she ripped open the foil packet. She slipped the latex over his penis, but not before fondling and tasting its satiny tip. Sensing that Scott needed to dominate, she spread-eagled on her back for him. He smiled his approval. His appreciative gaze raked her body. Then he moved atop her, kissing her fully and thoroughly. She tasted a mix of Merlot and her own moisture on his tongue. An unselfish lover, Scott had no repugnance to touching and tasting her. He slid inside her then, allowing her to adjust. Together they moved in rhythm, taking each stroke deep. His penis filled her, striking all the sensitive areas inside her. He rotated some, varying the angle of penetration. She felt as if she were swelling shut around him, or as if he grew thicker and thicker inside her. Tighter and tighter... "Oh, Scott!" She shattered into a thousand pieces. He climaxed seconds later, moaning his satisfaction against her mouth. He kissed her again and again, covering her face, her neck, then her shoulders. Finally, he collapsed over her. "You're fantastic." "Thank you," she murmured, wondering if he were speaking to her or to some memory of Heather. But she wouldn't spoil the moment and ask. "You're fantastic, yourself, mister." Instead of cleaning up--the hell with the wet spot, tomorrow was laundry day--they fell asleep, spoon fashion, and slept all night. CHAPTER ELEVEN Some things are better left unsaid. Scott studied Wendy's sleeping form as morning sneaked in around the mini-blinds. Her mouth slightly open, it curved at each end into a smile. She seemed to be enjoying a pleasant dream. Remorse flooded him. He'd promised no funny stuff, then jumped her bones the minute she'd lain down
to sleep. Some friend. He should've paid a prostitute instead of using Wendy. Not that she complained. In fact, she seemed to enjoy sex with him. Really enjoy it. But he'd thought Heather enjoyed herself with him, too, so his judgment was suspect. He didn't want to disturb Wendy, but his mouth felt like it was full of cotton bolls. He needed to take a leak, too. And where was the damn rubber? It had come off sometime during the night, leaving a mess in the middle of the sheets. As soon as Wendy awoke, he'd strip the bed and take the sheets to the laundry room. Better yet, he'd load up all her dirty clothes and haul them to his house and use his own washer and dryer. It was the least he could do after all she'd done for him. Would she like to go with him? The prospect of spending his Saturday alone held no appeal. They could wash clothes, have some lunch, then maybe take in a movie. Or rent some videos. But should he monopolize Wendy's time? She had a life outside of him and his problems. Well, he had to get up, and right away. He disentangled his legs from hers and she stirred. "You awake?" Her voice was husky from sleepiness. "Yeah. I need to get up." "You got it up last night, too." He chuckled. "No, I mean I have to get up. Urgently." She rolled away and he slid out of bed. Suddenly shy again, he grabbed his boxers and raced toward the hall bath. When he finished and opened the door, Wendy stood in the hallway, her hand outstretched. "Aspirin. I thought you might need it. I sure as hell do." "Thanks." Thoughtful as always, Wendy seemed to know just what he needed. Last night, for instance ... no, better not to think about that now. His stomach growled, too loud to be ignored. "How about some breakfast?" Wendy padded toward the kitchen in her short satin robe, not waiting for an answer. He put on his clothes, then followed her. "I'll make coffee if you'll show me where you keep it." She grinned. "That would be wonderful. Thank you." While the pancake batter sizzled on the griddle and the coffee maker gurgled and hissed, Scott reached for Wendy's hands and held them. "About last night..." "Chalk it up to stress and wine." "I never meant..." "It's all right, Scott. Some things are better left unsaid, all right?" "All right. I'd never hurt you, you know." "I know. And I also know neither of us want to screw up a perfect friendship. So let's just drop any talk about last night." He kissed each of her hands. "Thanks."
She pulled free of his grasp. Picking up the spatula, she tested the pancakes. She flipped one, then waited a minute on the others. "I didn't ask. Are pancakes okay?" "One of my favorites," he said. "It's been so long since I've had them. Heather doesn't eat anything like that." "I'd rather we not discuss Heather today, Scott. I'm particularly angry with her and I don't want indigestion from my breakfast." This made him laugh. "Fair enough, Wendy June." She cringed. "Nobody's called me that since high school." "I remember. You said it sounded like a weather forecast." "Let's keep my middle name our little secret, shall we?" "Okay. I'm the only person who gets to call you Wendy June." The flipped pancakes browned along the edges. "Let me grab two plates." "Thanks." She lifted each of the pancakes onto the plates, two each, then poured out more batter. "How many are you cooking? We may not be able to eat that many." "They're little. Just eat what you feel like." She led him to the bar stools, then grabbed a bottle of syrup. Real maple syrup, none of that watery sugar-free stuff. "Enjoy." They talked about their plans for the day in between bites of sweet sticky pancakes and mugs of coffee. Before he knew it, they'd finished off the coffee and the pancakes. No leftovers. A feeling of contentment stole over him, a warm and fuzzy emotion he hadn't felt in a long time. If only he and Heather could have spent time together relaxing and talking, instead of running around keeping to an over-committed social schedule, he'd have been clued in to whatever had gone wrong. But maybe what he'd seen as Heather's tirelessness had really been restlessness. Maybe her dissatisfaction had been there all the time. Depression replaced his brief moment of contentment. **** Wendy's laundry basket balanced against his hip, Scott unlocked the door to his bungalow. Thank God she'd agreed to spend the day with him. "Welcome to my humble abode." "I've always liked your house." She stepped into the foyer. "Especially this parquet floor." "Listen, I don't remember how I left the place, so please ignore the housekeeping." "The floor looks waxed. And the carpet's been vacuumed." She followed him through the kitchen. The spotless kitchen. "I'd say you left it neat as a pin." "I forgot. Becky comes on Fridays. She's the cleaning service." "I've been thinking about a cleaning service. Is she taking new clients?" He led her to the small laundry room off the kitchen. "I'll ask."
They started a load of wash. "As many times as I've been over here, I've never seen past your living room and kitchen." "And the bathroom." "But not since y'all redecorated. Can I have a tour?" "Sure. It's not a large house." He led her through the dining-living room combination, back through the foyer, past a narrow flight of stairs, then down the short hall. Everywhere he looked he saw Heather. She'd helped him put up the chair rail, then painted it. She'd wallpapered the bathroom to match the shower curtain and towels. Heather's photographs filled the walls in the hallway, a gallery of her life. Baby Heather on Santa's lap, Ballerina Heather in her first dance recital, Queen Heather at the homecoming game, Cheerleading Heather in her uniform. Bride Heather in her wedding gown. He looked away, but Wendy must have noticed his pain. She placed her hand on his arm, but said nothing. Her touch was comfort enough. Wendy wasn't a chatterbox, thank God. Right now he'd lost all desire to talk. He moved to the next door. "This is my office, and it's a wreck. Becky knows not to mess with my stuff. She vacuums the carpet, then closes the door." "Wise woman." And the other bedroom, the one he'd shared with Heather. He sped past the open door, muttering "bedroom." Wendy was blessedly quiet. "The upstairs can be finished into another bedroom, but we just used it as an attic." "It's a nice house." They wandered back into the kitchen and sat at the small dinette. "Heather said it was too small." "Too small for what? Had you discussed a family?" "Heather said she didn't want children, at least not for another six or seven years. By then I'd hoped to have a larger house." "This is a wonderful house for raising a couple of kids, especially if the upstairs was finished into a kid's room." "There's just the one bath." "I grew up in a house with one bathroom. It teaches children consideration and sharing." "Yeah, right." He had to chuckle at that. "Well, most of the time." "You're one to talk. You don't want kids, you don't want a man in your life. All you care about is a career. Isn't that what you said?" "That's what I said." She frowned. "But what about you? Were you disappointed that Heather didn't
want to start a family?" He shrugged. "I thought you didn't want to talk about Heather today." "I'm sorry. I was prying, wasn't I?" She bolted from the table. "You have any Diet Cokes?" Just like that, she dropped the subject. No wonder they were best friends. She always read his mood and knew just what he needed. Even last night... No, better not think about last night. Or the previous night. Christ, his groin tightened no matter how hard he tried to banish the thoughts. "Scott?" "Uh, help yourself," he said, pointing to the refrigerator. Maybe talking about Heather was better than pursuing thoughts of bedding Wendy. No better subject to cool his ardor than to talk about the wife who'd rejected and humiliated him. "Pry all you want to, Wendy. Maybe I need to talk about Heather." She handed him a soda, then grabbed another for herself. "Whatever you want. I really wasn't asking about Heather, though. I was asking you. Were you hoping to start a family?" "I was. It's an ego thing, probably. We all wonder how creative we can be raising a little person that's part of our genetic make-up. We wonder which traits will develop, which will be recessive--" "Leave it to you to romanticize it." "Don't be sarcastic..." "I'm teasing you. Seriously, though, I think you'd make one dynamite half of a gene pool." "Why do you say that?" He took a sip of his soda. "You're a genius, for starters." The carbonation threatened his sinuses. He choked, coughed, and wheezed. "Genius?" he croaked. Wendy pounded on his back. "Absolutely." He smiled at her, then swept an errant red curl from her forehead. "You sure are good for my ego, Wendy June." CHAPTER TWELVE If your self-esteem is low, fake it. Wendy folded the last of her underwear and stuffed it into the laundry basket. She'd planned to carry her finished laundry out to Scott's Jeep Wrangler. Just as she reached the door, it started raining. Not just a sprinkle, either, but one of those fast and furious summer rains that poured buckets of water within a few minutes. "Ah, life in the south." Scott stepped behind her. "Close the door. You'll get wet." You can get me wet, anytime. Why couldn't she shake these wanton thoughts? She backed away from the door. "I enjoy the rain. It's soothing and cleansing." He took the basket, set it down in the foyer, then took her hand. "Then follow me."
Leading her to the back of the house, past the laundry room, he opened the back door onto a small screened-in porch. At a cookout last summer, Scott and Heather had a small, uncovered patio out their back door. The patio had been enlarged and enclosed. It was furnished simply with a few pieces of molded plastic lawn furniture. Rain tap-danced on the metal roof and rushed from the guttering to the splash blocks on the ground. A curtain of mist obscured the backyard beyond. Wendy breathed in the fragrance of fresh rain. If this were her house, this was exactly the porch she'd want. Maybe she'd add some chair cushions, a couple of plants, and a hook rug to hide the bare concrete floor. "This is great. When did you add this?" "It's a kit. We had it added on a month ago." "I like it." "Have a seat." He sprawled in a matching chair, stretching his long legs out in front of him. "I love to sit out here when it rains." Wendy could picture early morning coffee and Sunday crossword puzzles on the round patio table. "We should have lunch out here." "Great idea. I'm famished." "No wonder. You ate only four pancakes this morning..." "Little pancakes. And that was hours ago." He patted his abdomen. "You don't think it's too hot?" "It's warm out here, but the rain makes it feel cool. Not air-conditioning cool, but pleasant." She straightened in the chair, poised to get up. "What shall I make us to eat?" "You made breakfast. Let me do lunch." He stood, towering over her. "I make a mean hot dog." "That sounds like a wiener," she quipped. Scott groaned as he stood and stretched. "I'll be back with our lunch in a jif." Later, after hotdogs and chips, Wendy gathered up the dishes and trash. The rain slacked to a drizzle and the sun was poking a ray or two between the clouds. "It's almost stopped." "Thanks for doing dishes," he teased, since they'd eaten from paper plates. "No problem." As she opened the door, the telephone rang. She grabbed the cordless from its wall cradle and passed it to Scott. "Hello." Wendy went inside to give him privacy. She stashed the paper plates and napkins in the trash, then clipped the bag of tortilla chips. She stowed the chips in the cabinet where she'd seen Scott retrieve them, then searched for his recyclables bin. Oh, right. The bin was on the screen porch. She stepped onto the porch just as Scott ended his call. Crestfallen, he said, "That was Heather." "What did she want?" "She's on her way over. Says she needs to pick up a few of her things." He took the two soda cans from her hands, crushing each one as if it were a Styrofoam cup, then handed them back.
"I'd better not be here when she comes." Wendy threw the cans, clattering them into the bin. "It's okay. She knows you're here. I'm just nervous, you know, about seeing her after..." "Listen to me." She bent down in front of him, taking his hands in hers. Poor guy was trembling. "You need to make her nervous. You have no reason to be uncomfortable. She's the one who's made the change, not you. Let her squirm." "She won't squirm. She doesn't care." "All right. If you really believe she doesn't care, then have some pride, Scott. Even if she's shattered your self confidence, don't let her know it. Don't have her leave here pitying you. Have her wondering." "Wondering? You mean, don't react as she'd expect? Be a bit unpredictable?" "Exactly!" "In other words, if I don't feel sure of myself, fake it." "What have you got to lose?" "Yeah." He let out a resigned sigh. "I've already lost her." CHAPTER THIRTEEN Practice makes perfect. After extensive coaching, Scott felt ready to face Heather. Wendy was right. He had his pride. He would be strong. He'd not let Heather know she'd crushed him. He wouldn't! The had rain stopped, so he carried Wendy's basket of laundry outside to his Jeep. Heather pulled in behind him and parked. As she got out of her car, he braced himself for the Oscar he was determined to earn. "Hello, Heather." "Hi. This won't take long." "Fine, because I have plans." She halted. "Oh." She seemed to want to say more, but shrugged and continued up the sidewalk. "That's cool." He followed her into the house. She and Wendy exchanged greetings. He stood to the side faking indifference while his insides quaked. Stuffing his hands inside his short's pockets, he interrupted their small talk. "Need some boxes? We have a few upstairs." "Yes, actually, I do." "Be right back." He forced his steps to slow to a leisurely pace, resisting the urge to run up the stairs. He grabbed a few boxes, hoping she'd send him for more. He'd welcome the escape. Eavesdropping as he descended the stairs, he strained to hear what Heather said to Wendy. "Don't hate me. It just didn't work out for me and Scott." Wendy laughed. "I have no reason to hate you, aside from your perfect body, beautiful face, and
gorgeous hair." "Perfect body? Look at you.. I've always resented dieting while you ate whatever you wanted..." "I don't eat whatever I want." He dumped the boxes onto the parquet floor. Heather spun around, grabbing at her throat. "Didn't mean to startle you." Not. "If you need more boxes, holler. I'll be in the kitchen." "Heather, would you like some help?" Heather shrugged. "Sure. Take down my pictures in the hall, if you don't mind." Wendy followed Heather past him and gave him a surreptitious wink. She was up to something. He'd find out later, after Heather left. The sooner the better. His "I don't give a damn" charade was taking its toll. **** Wendy layered towels between the framed pictures as she packed them, making quick work of the job. It wasn't her business, but she wanted to keep an eye on Heather. Protective instincts toward her friend overrode her manners. She didn't want Heather removing anything of value to Scott. She needn't have worried. Heather seemed interested only in the few clothes she'd left, make-up and toiletries. Aside from the framed photos, she showed no interest in anything in the house. "Is this everything?" Wendy asked after dragging the heavy box of pictures into the foyer. "For now. If Scott finds something he wants me to have, he can call me." "Can he?" "Of course. What do you mean?" "He didn't seem to know where you were staying. Can you leave him a number?" "Sure. I'm staying with a-a friend." I'll just bet. Heather dug into her purse for a bank deposit slip. Not for the first time, Wendy wondered what Scott had done to protect his money. He said he'd made an appointment with an attorney, but when? He'd been with her much of the time. Wendy scribbled down a phone number, then handed it to Wendy. "Scott, you wanna give us a hand?" Wendy called. To his credit, Scott sauntered into the hall wearing a bored expression. "Is this it, then?" Wendy handed him the slip of paper. "Here's the number where Heather's staying, in case you find anything she may have left." Frowning, he snatched the paper from her. "Let's get her loaded up, then." She smiled, enjoying the way Scott acted. And it was acting, she knew. Poor guy. He blamed himself for Heather's fickleness. Carrying a stack of Heather's sweaters, Wendy followed Scott and Heather out to the car. Watching them, Wendy marveled at the wasted relationship. One word of encouragement from Heather and Scott would turn to mush at her feet.
Wendy couldn't allow that. Before, she'd been trying to tutor Scott in the art of wild, passionate sex so he could reconcile with Heather. Now, she was just as determined that Heather not have Scott. She wasn't good enough for him. Furthermore, if she did reconcile with Scott, no doubt she'd hurt him again. Could he take another rejection? Scott was terrific in bed and everywhere else. But his self-esteem, shaky in the best of times where women were concerned, was seriously damaged. Wendy vowed to do everything in her power to restore Scott's confidence with women. When he graduated from Wendy's School of Passion, Heather would rue the day she let him go. She'd be sorry. First, Wendy needed to persuade him to continue his lessons. Practice, practice, practice. She smiled at the thought. Her tutoring wasn't without its benefits to her. Uncomplicated sex with a man safely in love with another suited her just fine. And when Wendy finished with Scott, he'd never again settle for a self-absorbed tart like Heather. CHAPTER FOURTEEN Share a fantasy with your lover. Scott rang Wendy's doorbell Monday afternoon and waited. Shell-shocked from his appointment with the divorce attorney, he found himself looking forward to running with Wendy. He'd driven her home yesterday after Heather's departure, not really in the mood for company, eating, running, or anything. He'd gone to bed early and slept ten hours. He'd read somewhere that excessive sleep was a sign of depression. No surprise there. Heather's departure had stunned him, her filing for divorce had disheartened him. Learning she had a boyfriend had humiliated him. But having her pack up her belongings and hand him her new phone number had defeated him. He'd crawled into bed not caring whether he ever woke up again. How could she have no feelings toward him when he loved her with all his heart? She had loved him once. Hadn't she? "Hi." Wendy opened the door wearing those skimpy running shorts and a cropped tank top. "You're early." "I need that run." She took his brief case. A concerned frown replaced her vibrant smile. "What is it? What's happened?" Dropping his gym bag to the floor, he shook his head. "I was served with the papers this morning. Right in the office, in front of the staff." "Oh, Scott, I'm sorry. Forgive me for saying so, but Heather's being a heartless bitch." "I'm sure it was the attorney's call, not Heather's." He wanted to believe that, had to believe it. He couldn't have been so wrong about Heather. Or could he? "Take off your coat and have a seat." He slipped out of his suit jacket. "No, I'd rather run, if it's all right with you. I have a lot of frustration to work out."
"Fine. Go change. I'm ready." When he returned to the living room, Wendy had pulled her thick red hair back into a ponytail. A white sweatband hugged her head. Bending over, she stretched to touch her toes, treating him to a tantalizing view of her ass. In spite of the air-conditioning, sweat beaded Scott's upper lip. The last time she'd worn running shorts, he'd hardly been able to wait to drag them down her luscious legs. Gawd, she was sexy. Here he was, lamenting Heather's defection, and lusting after his best friend. He was worse off than he thought. "Okay." He swallowed. "Let's go." They headed toward the park, chatting the entire way about the day. He told her about hiring an attorney, then having to open a new checking account. "I'm glad you did. You need to protect your money until your property is settled." "This is where the attorney said things get really nasty. I dread the fight. Heather didn't like the house, but she'll probably demand half its equity." "Unfortunately, she has a right to half." "I know, I know. It's just that ... Dammit! I didn't want this. None of it. And it's all out of my hands." "I know, honey. No one likes to feel out of control." She stopped at the water fountain. "I may have to sell the house." There. It was out. He'd lost Heather, he'd lost his pride. Now he might lose his house. "Maybe not. Take one day at a time, or it'll all overwhelm you." They resumed their jog, dodging baby strollers, and teens on skateboards. "How did you get to be so wise, lady? We're the same age." "Women are emotionally older than men. Didn't you know that?" "Heather, too?" "She's hurt you, which puts her on my shit list. How can I be objective?" This made him smile. "I hope I never make your shit list. Sounds like a dangerous distinction." "It is." He stole a glance and noted she wasn't smiling. What a loyal friend he had in Wendy Powers. Where would he be if he hadn't had her through his ordeal? His depression lifted briefly. He'd get through this, somehow. He'd survive because he had Wendy. **** They'd showered and shared a meatloaf that Wendy had in her freezer. "Yummy. Not bad for frozen." He patted his stomach. "Every time I have dinner with the folks, Mom wraps up a care package for my freezer. Thanks to the miracle of microwave cooking, which I understand so thoroughly thanks to your detailed explanation all those years ago, I can bring leftovers back to life."
He remembered explaining how micro waves energized the food molecules, but hadn't believed she'd been seriously listening. She'd stared at him attentively, though, as if he were the most fascinating person on earth. He'd thought it politeness, but maybe not. He should've known. Wendy had a brain. She didn't play the dumb, weak damsel in distress routine, thank God. Of course, neither had Heather. She'd played the intelligent but bored damsel. "And you thought applied science had no place in your life." She laughed at this, which stirred something inside him. She had a fun laugh, a hearty laugh. One of those gusto-for-life laughs. In spite of his world crashing down around him, Scott wanted to laugh, too. Together they rinsed the dishes and loaded the dishwasher. She closed the door and turned to him. "Scott, I've been thinking." He slid atop one of the bar stools. "Oh, about what?" Wendy crowded him, insinuating herself between his legs. His body jolted to attention, especially his dick. What the hell? She slipped her arms around his neck. "I think you're ready for lesson number four." **** Wendy held her breath, waiting for Scott's reaction to her bold overture. She didn't really consider herself a seductress, but she'd do her best tonight. After Scott's day from hell, he deserved an ego boost. Some recreational sex. And she was just the ticket. She closed the distance between them and rubbed herself against his groin. Oh, my. He couldn't hide his body's interest. His suit trousers he'd put back on after his shower now strained across his enlarged penis. His Adam's apple bobbed when he swallowed. "Lesson, uh, lesson number four?" "Fantasies. Do you have at least one sexual fantasy, Scott?" He broke into a wide grin. "Oh, yeah. I have one." "Will you tell me about it?" He wound his arms around her waist. "Sure. But then you have to tell me one of yours." "I have every intention," she purred. Or at least she hoped she purred. "You first." "Okay." His breathing quickened. "I'd like to tie you up to a four poster bed, naked, then have my way with you." "Oh, my." Heather was out of her freakin' mind. "Are you shocked?" he asked, his grin fading. "No, just titillated." And excited and turned-on. "I have some scarves for tying me up, but I don't have the four-poster bed." His smile returned. "I do." CHAPTER FIFTEEN It's important to do your homework.
"I don't think I can wait that long," Wendy said. "Why don't we save your fantasy for lesson number five?" Lesson number five? His head spinning, he forced his breathing to slow before he hyperventilated. If Wendy's plan was to distract him from his troubles, she was doing a damn fine job of it. "Let's talk about your fantasy, Wendy." "Sure." She leaned back, meeting his gaze. "I have a bar stool fantasy." Barstool? Wasn't he sitting on a barstool? As he struggled to clear his befuddled thoughts, Wendy reached for his belt. She unbuckled it, then with exaggerated slowness undressed him. He resisted helping. After all, this was her fantasy. "Tell me more." She slipped his trousers from his legs, first one, then the other. She folded the pants with care, then placed them on the other bar stool. Next, she rubbed her hand over his crotch, caressing his balls through the cotton fabric of his boxers. "First, I undress you, completely undress you." "Yes, I s-s-see that." He bit back a groan when she slipped her hands inside his waistband. "Then what?" "Then, I'm going to suck the chrome off your trailer hitch, cowboy." Oh. My. God. Just her talking about it was enough to make him come. He clenched his jaw, regaining control. "Then what?" "I'll saddle you up and hop on for a ride." "I'm trembling at the prospect, cowgirl." In truth, a shiver racked his body. He wasn't stretching the truth by much. "With fear or excitement?" She yanked his underwear to his ankles. Chilled air swept across his genitals. "Both," he croaked, then repeated it in a steadier voice. She leaned over him then, and blew against his ear. "Good." "Aren't you going to undress?" "Oh, yeah," she said, unbuttoning his shirt. "That's part of the fantasy." He wasn't sure what she meant until she had him waiting, nude, exposed, and vulnerable atop the bar stool. Then she switched on a CD, one she evidently had queued up, playing a sultry bump-and-grind number. She returned to the kitchen, posed in front of him, and proceeded to perform a sexy striptease. Where in the world had she learned to dance like that? He and Heather had watched that video once, the murder mystery about the exotic dancers in a Miami strip club. He'd seen impressive dance numbers, but nothing as evocative as Wendy in her kitchen peeling off her shorts and T-shirt. And bra. And skimpy panties, those things Heather called thongs. He'd never seen Wendy wear one until now. Except now she wasn't wearing anything but her tiny birthstone earrings. She released her hair from its ponytail, her fabulous red curls springing in disarray around her face. The hair curtained his lap, tickling and scintillating his flesh. Then her warm, wet mouth covered his dick and he closed his eyes. She drove him mindless with her tongue. True to her word, she sucked the chrome off his trailer hitch, and then some. And as he released his
sperm into her mouth, the day's tensions dissolved and drained away. He wasn't sure how it had happened, but Wendy had taken him to Heaven and back. **** Wendy swallowed, then licked Scott clean. Funny how she'd never had a desire to do this with another man. She'd found a few she wouldn't mind taking in her mouth, but never one she'd risk swallowing. But she trusted Scott and cared for him. She'd analyze it later. Right now, she was too aroused to think. She'd planned everything, preparing this seduction, from the dance music to the condoms she'd stuffed in the cookie jar. Hell, she never bought cookies, anyway, and semen had fewer calories. But she didn't want to rush Scott. He might perceive that as pressure, the last thing he'd need. Instead, she stood up and leaned against him. He squeezed her in a gentle bear hug and kissed her ear. "That was sensational," he murmured. "Thank you." "No. Thank you!" He continued to hold her and they hugged for a couple of minutes. Then he asked, "But why?" She'd rehearsed her answer, knowing he might ask. "I know we're just friends, Scott, but I find you irresistible. Since we're both at loose ends right now, why not make the best of it with each other? Why cruise bars and take chances with strangers?" "Irresistible, eh?" "I mean it. When you asked me to teach you, you unleashed a monster." "I turned into a sex fiend?" "No," she said, then chuckled. "You turned me into one. I can't seem to get enough of you." Whether or not she'd restored his confidence, she'd certainly restored his erection. He rubbed against her, moving his hardened penis against her thigh. "Ready to saddle up, cowgirl?" "Whoa, partner. I need to visit the tack room." She slipped from his embrace and giggled at his expression when she moved no farther than the cookie jar. She tore open the packet, removed the condom, then slipped it over his thickened flesh. She halted at his sudden intake of breath. "Did I hurt you?" "No. I'm just very sensitive. It's okay." She pulled the condom into place. "I'm almost ready to mount the stallion." "Almost?" He smiled. "Anything I can do to help?" She'd run out of cowboy metaphors. Aroused and eager for her own orgasm, she grabbed his hands and placed them over her breasts. He understood immediately and rubbed at her sensitized nipples. She kissed him then, long and deep. She sucked at his tongue and nibbled at his lips, the taste of his semen lingering in her mouth. His rhythmic massage at her breasts stirred her close to climax. His fingers never broke their sensuous tempo when she climbed onto his lap and lowered herself on him. He filled her, touching all the right places deep within her. Although rigid and aroused, he let her set the
pace. She rode him hard, each stroke going deep. She couldn't wait. Her body cried out its need with a hunger she'd never quite known. She rode up and down, harder and harder. Her flesh warmed as if she had fever, until she feared her body glowed. Her orgasm shook her with such intensity she trembled and gasped and very nearly passed out. Scott cried out his own orgasm seconds later. He didn't move, nor try to move her. He held her tightly, allowing her the time she needed to recover. Or maybe he was as drained as she. Drained. She lacked the energy to laugh at the pun. "I'm mashing you," she murmured against his shoulder. "Stay put. You're fine." He stroked her hair, finger-combing it away from her damp face. "I had no idea you were this sexy." "Regardless of what you think or what Heather claims, you are an excellent partner." She hoped Scott believed her. She really enjoyed sex with him. Surely, he could see that. Maybe she'd exaggerated, just a bit, about being unable to resist him. Or had she? CHAPTER SIXTEEN Tender moments don't have to include sex. Wendy curled up on the loveseat with the cordless telephone and dialed Scott's number. She hoped the dose of Ibuprofen she'd taken kicked in soon. What a hell of a Monday. "Hello?" "It's Wendy. Can I take a rain check on visiting this evening? I need to stay home." "What's wrong? You don't sound right." She had to tell him the truth. Otherwise, his sensitive ego might mistake her change of plans as rejection. "I'm just under the weather today. I'll feel better once the Ibuprofen..." "I'll be right over." Click. Damn! She hated this. Every month of her life since she'd turned twelve, she'd been plagued by menstrual cramps. Intense, disabling cramps. Doctors called it Primary Dysmenorrhea and found no physical cause. They'd prescribed NSAIDS, but even the maximum dosage only dulled the pain. She hit Redial but Scott's number rang and rang. She had his cell phone number lying around, but lacked the motivation to hunt for it. What the heck. He was her best friend and would understand when she sent him away. The doorbell rang ten minutes later. She dragged herself to the door, opened it, then staggered back to the loveseat. Scott rushed in. "Tell me how I can help." She groaned, hugging one of her throw cushions against her abdomen. "It's just that time of the month, Scott. You didn't have to rush over--" "Nonsense. We're friends. If I had sounded as dreadful as you did, you'd have been at my doorstep in minutes, too. Don't deny it."
She didn't. Of course, he was right. "But this is embarrassing." "Still? I remember in high school, about once a month you'd turn as white as Mrs. Peterson's lab coat and she'd send you to the nurse. You almost passed out once, during a pep rally, remember?" "I'd tried to forget. How humiliating." But now that she remembered, it had been Scott who'd helped her safely descend the bleachers. Scott who'd led her to the nurse's office. "Good ol' Miss Wilkins, girls gym teacher and sometime nurse." Scott settled cross-legged on the floor beside the loveseat. He cupped her face in his warm hand. "You're so pale. Isn't the Ibuprofen helping?" She leaned into his palm and closed her eyes. "A little. I take prescription strength, but it takes a while to get into my system." "How long ago did you take it?" "As soon as I got home from work. Twenty minutes, maybe." "Why don't I run out and pick us up chicken chow mein?" Nearly gagging at the thought of food, she shook her head. "I can't eat right now." "That's the pain. Makes you nauseated and weak. Maybe by the time I return, it won't hurt so much." Tears filled her eyes. She squeezed them back, but an errant drop leaked down her cheek. Scott's tenderness always touched her heart. Today, her defenses lowered, she struggled with her emotions. How she'd wanted to be left alone until he'd arrived on her doorstep. It'd be so easy to lean on him, let him take care of her, and pretend it could be this way between her and a man who'd be in love with her. But she didn't want a man in love with her. He'd only get in the way. Damn her emotions, anyway. Hormones or something had her upset. "Hey, Wendy, don't cry." He wiped away the tear with his thumb. "I'm trying to help." "I know that." She turned her head into the cushion. "I hate for anyone to see me this way." "Hey, this is me. Scott, your best pal." He kissed her forehead, then urged her to face him. She opened her eyes and blinked back the moisture. "Don't hide from me, okay?" "Okay," she whispered. "Should I try the chicken chow mein? You need to eat and you may feel more like it when I get back." "I guess so." "How about a cup of hot tea before I leave?" She shook her head no. "Maybe when you come back." He unfolded his legs and stood. "Okay. I won't be gone long." "Wait." She sat up, then, with Scott's help, stood. "Let me give you a key." "Good idea. Then I won't have to disturb you." She padded over to the breakfast bar and fished her spare key from a ceramic dish. "Here."
He took the key in one hand, her elbow in the other, guiding her back to the loveseat. "Lie down and try to relax. I'll be back in a while." After he'd locked her in, she hugged her pillow to her throbbing abdomen and closed her eyes. Cramps seized her body once more and she groaned. Oh, Scott, I don't want you here now. She hated feeling vulnerable and emotional. Ordinarily, she was no weakling. Scott meant well, God bless him, but Wendy preferred to suffer in solitude. The cramps would pass, her confusion would pass. As thoughtful and caring as Scott was, she had no need of a man in her life. Friend, yes, but not a man. She'd do well to focus. Otherwise, she'd fall into a dangerous fantasy, one she couldn't afford. A fantasy of sharing her life with a man who adored her. A man she could love. **** Scott closed the door with a soft click, so as to keep as quiet as possible, just in case Wendy had fallen asleep. She had. Clutching the pillow to her stomach, she lay curled on the sofa. A tendril of her red hair hanging over her face fluttered with each breath. Careful not to rustle the sacks carrying their dinner, he crept through the living room to the kitchen. He filled her glass teapot with water, then located the loose black tea and scooped a spoonful into the insert. He adjusted the burner and put the teapot on to boil. Wendy could sleep until the tea was ready. Leaving the Chinese take-out in the sacks, he eased down the hall to Wendy's spare bedroom and booted up her computer. After logging on to the internet and running a couple of searches, he found the information he wanted. He logged off, then returned to the kitchen to check the tea. Wendy sat up. "What time is it?" "Half past six." He leaned against the living room door jamb. "How do you feel?" "Groggy. But better." She yawned. "Something smells good." "Think you can eat?" When she nodded, he turned back into the kitchen. "Okay, I'll get it ready." She followed him, then slid atop a bar stool , propping her head on her folded arms. "You're sweet to wait on me." "You'd do it for me." "Absolutely. The next time you have menstrual cramps, I'll be right over." He chuckled. "You must feel better. May I ask you a personal question?" She grinned. "You may ask. I may answer. Or, I may not." "I see the meds have definitely kicked in." He leaned on the counter opposite her. "I was wondering if you've talked to your doctor about birth control pills." "Birth control pills? I told you, I don't need them. I have no man in my life and I plan to keep it that way..." "That's not what I mean. Birth control pills can lessen the menstrual flow, eliminating or greatly reducing
the contractions and spasms of the uterus." She stared at him as if he'd grown a third eye. "Huh?" "Cramps." He lifted the Styrofoam containers from the bags, then arranged them on the breakfast bar. "The contractions are caused by the stretching of the cervix opening to accommodate heavy flow." "This conversation is so appetizing." "I'm sorry. I just did a bit of research..." She smiled. "Actually, I'm impressed." Scott couldn't contain his grin. Wendy always listened to him like he was Mister Wizard. "Really." "Yes, but hardly surprised. You're probably the only guy on earth who'd try to unlock the mystery behind a female ailment." He shrugged, feigning indifference, while heat crawled up his neck and face. "It's my natural curiosity, you know." She reached out and gripped his hand, forcing him to meet her gaze. "It's very supportive, regardless of your motives. Thank you." "Uh, you're welcome." He pulled his hand free, suddenly unsettled by Wendy's praise. Stepping back, he turned toward the stove. "Tea's ready to boil." "I'll call my doctor tomorrow and get a prescription." "Good. I hope it works." He poured her a mug of the hot tea, then carried it to her. "In any event, there's another benefit." "What's that?" "You can stop wearing those damn condoms," she said and gave him a saucy wink. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN It's important to share your expectations in a relationship. "Do you know what you're saying?" Scott frowned as he poured himself a cup of hot tea. Wendy opened her container of chicken chow mein. "I may be drugged, but not delirious. In a few days, soon as I'm past my period, we'll resume our lessons." She mentally braced herself for debate. Scott plopped down on the other barstool, then took his time opening his take-out. "Do you think that's a good idea?" "Absolutely." She'd already rehearsed her answer. "I know I'm being selfish..." "Huh? How's that?" "I'm using you for sex, of course. You don't really need lessons, Scott. I told you that. But, frankly, I'm enjoying myself." "I'm using you, for Chrissakes! Every time we have sex, I'm making-believe you're Heather."
Wendy tried not to flinch. Why did his words sting so? Hadn't that been the idea behind role play? Hadn't it been Wendy's own idea? His words had no power to hurt her unless she let them. And why would she? She didn't want a man in her life. "I'm the selfish one, Wendy. You're the most generous woman I've ever known." "Thanks." More generous than Heather, but not what you want. Now where had that come from? She wasn't competing with Heather. She didn't want Scott's love. Hormones and NSAIDS, that's what was wrong with her. "Anyway, what good is role play if Heather's not coming back? She's with a new guy now and has filed for divorce." "All the more reason, Scott. The hurt's still raw now, but you're going to have to move on. Meanwhile, you can practice with me." "You're my best friend. I won't jeopardize what we have." "Neither will I, I promise. But you're helping me out, too, don't you see?" Shaking his head no, Scott stuffed more chicken chow mein into his mouth. "I don't want a man in my life, especially now that my career is demanding so much of my time..." "Tell me about that." "My career? Well, I'm the office manager now, but the next step is account manager, which means I'd be visiting customers to increase business and traveling to visit potential customers. So I don't have energy for a relationship as well." "Sounds lonely." She shrugged. "I won't have time to be lonely. Meanwhile, I'm a healthy woman with needs. With you, I don't worry about miscommunication or disease or any of the baggage that goes along with dating." "Why don't you date?" Scott's hand stopped in mid-air, his forkful of food abandoned. "It's just not worth the trouble, you know?" "No. I guess I don't know. You're saying you'd rather sleep with me until I find someone else so you don't have to screen your sex partners, right?" "When you put it like that, it makes me seem so ... so callous." She pushed aside the dinner, most of it uneaten. Her appetite had fled, whether from thoughts of Scott finding someone else or his thinking of her as a heartless sex partner, she didn't know. And didn't want to think about any more. Suddenly, dizziness swept through her and she broke out in a cold sweat. "I need to lie down." Concern flooded his eyes. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say..." "No, honey, I'm just feeling icky again. It's not you." At her side in an instant, he placed the back of his hand against her forehead. "Do you feel dizzy?" "Yeah, and hot and cold at the same time."
"Your blood pressure's dropped. That's what has you feeling woozy and clammy." "What do you prescribe, Doctor Drysdale?" He helped her back into the living room. "Well, you may want to try sitting in the chair with your feet propped up. I read that cramps are aggravated by blood settling in the lower pelvic region when you're lying down." "When did you have time to research all this?" She eased down into the chair. Scott lifted her feet and scooted the Zebra print ottoman under them. "While the tea heated, I borrowed your desktop to log in to the internet." "Of course." She smiled, in spite of her discomfort. "Thank you." "What would you say to another cup of hot tea?" "Sounds like just what the doctor ordered." He headed for the kitchen, leaving her to marvel at his caring nature. He would've made a good doctor with his bedside manner. Despite her cramps, she had to smile at the thought of Scott's bedside manner. In a few days, she'd let him play doctor with her. She looked forward to undressing for her exam. "What has you grinning?" Scott asked, handing her the steaming mug. "I was just thinking about another fantasy we need to try." "When you're feeling better," he said, then wagged his finger at her. "But first, it's my turn." Oh, my! The four-poster bed... **** Scott returned home after Wendy took another of her ibuprofens, although he'd had to drag himself from her side. She needed to rest. She didn't need him underfoot all the time. And if he wore out his welcome at Wendy's, he'd be more alone than ever. Kicking off his shoes, he headed for his office. He booted up his computer. Surfing the internet wouldn't fill the void in his life, but it'd pass the time. He'd rather pass the time with Wendy. That is, if he couldn't be with Heather. But Heather was lost to him now. Would he ever get used to the idea of life without her? Not that he missed the constant night club hopping and gabfests. But he missed Heather. If only she'd been more like Wendy, content to watch a video or go for a walk or run. Eat take-out food. Life would have been more relaxed, that's for sure. Or would Heather's boredom have manifested itself sooner? Hypotheses contrary to fact were counterproductive. Heather had another man. Rage filled him again at the thought of another guy holding and kissing her. Screwing her. God, he'd go crazy if he continued his line of thinking. Instead of logging on to the internet, Scott stormed out of the office, changed to running shorts, then went for a jog. Hard as he ran, he couldn't outrun his torment. **** Wendy called in Tuesday to arrange to work from home. With her home office and voice mail, she could manage the job remotely, at least for one day. Still plagued by cramps, she just couldn't squeeze her
swollen body into control-top panty hose. At home, she'd slouch around in loose shorts and no bra. At lunchtime, Lisa stopped by to check on her. She grinned when Wendy opened the door for her. She hoisted the white and yellow bag of a popular sandwich chain. "I brought us a sub to share." Wendy's stomach growled at the thought. "Thanks. I'm suddenly hungry." "Feeling better yet?" Lisa knew her well enough to know the first twenty-four hours were the worst for Wendy's cramps. "Starting to. At least I no longer feel like I'll throw up." She cleared a space for them to eat on the breakfast bar. The image of herself sprawled wantonly across the wide bar with Scott licking her labia jumped into her mind. He'd taken her to sensual heights unlike any she'd known. She couldn't escape the memory each time she sat there for a meal. Warmth rushed through her. "Wendy, what's wrong?" "Huh?" "My God, you're burning up. You're red as a beet. You're..." Lisa felt her forehead. "...blushing! What's that about, girlfriend?" "It's personal and I can't talk about it." Wendy concentrated on unwrapping the foot-long sub sandwich, dividing it onto two napkins. "Just tell me this. Does it involve Scott?" "Yes." She glared at her friend. "Satisfied?" "Not by a long shot." Lisa grabbed her sandwich with both hands. "But something tells me you were." CHAPTER EIGHTEEN Setting the mood is an important part of foreplay Scott invited Wendy over to his house on Friday afternoon, for a run and some dinner. And love lesson number five. They'd joked about it on the phone the previous evening and decided they both needed a healthy dose of recreational sex. Since Friday was Becky's housekeeping day, Scott had clean sheets on the bed. The four-poster bed. He was ready--in more ways than one. He'd looked forward to seeing Wendy again, more than he understood. He missed Heather, and the house was too quiet and empty nowadays. Wendy wanted to get through her monthly period before sleeping with him again, which he understood. He'd just, well, missed her. Maybe not he way he missed Heather, but he'd felt lost without Wendy around. The sex was a bonus. He just plain enjoyed her company. They finished their run through the streets of his housing development and stopped to stretch at his front door. "So, what's for dinner?" she asked, leaning against the wall to stretch her calf muscles. "I thought we'd order pizza. We can take our showers while we wait."
"Pizza, hmm?" She tugged off her head band and gave him a wide-eyed smile. "Canadian Bacon, onion, and pineapple?" "Well, that'd be my pick." Scott laughed, remembering the pizza party after the junior play and how their classmates had been grossed out by his favorite pizza toppings. But Wendy had asked to try a slice and been a convert since that night. "You know, I would never have been accepted by the in-crowd in school if it hadn't been for you." "Don't be silly. You got me through chemistry, I got you through an image makeover. You did the rest on your own, just being yourself." "If you say so." But he knew better. Wendy had done her share of PR on his behalf, although she'd never admit it. "Would I lie to you?" She pinned him with her blue-eyed stare. For a brief second, she appeared wounded. Hurt. "You've never lied to me, Wendy. I'm sorry..." "Then why won't you believe me when I tell you how terrific you are?" She had him, there. He didn't believe her. But he couldn't bear to hurt her feelings. "I was brought up on humility. It's very difficult for me to accept compliments." There. That much was true. "Thanks to Rainbow and Zack, your hippy parents." He opened the door, then motioned her inside. The air conditioning chilled his sweaty body. "Well, I don't see much of Rainbow and Zack these days. Want to grab the bathroom first while I order the pizza?" "Well..." She dragged out the word, giving him a mischievous grin. "That'd be my second choice." "Not tonight. It's my fantasy tonight." She shrugged. "I can hardly wait." After she'd retreated to the bathroom, he ordered the pizza. Then he prepared the bedroom. **** Wendy stuffed the empty pizza box into Scott's trash can while he wiped up the table. As delicious as the pizza had been, she'd been a jumble of nerves anticipating whatever Scott had planned for his fantasy. She knew he wanted to tie her with scarves to his four-poster bed. Beyond that, she didn't know. Whatever it was would be thrilling and pleasurable. She'd never trust a guy to tie her up--except Scott, of course. He would never take unfair advantage of her vulnerability. He disappeared down the hall. "Be right back." "Okay." She stepped onto the screened porch to toss the aluminum cans into the bin. She and Scott returned to the kitchen at the same time. "This way," he said, taking her hand and leading her to his bedroom. Suddenly wary, she remembered how reluctant he'd been to show her this room during her last visit. He
and Heather had made love in this room and in this bed. Would Wendy feel like an interloper there? Had he ever tied Heather to the bed with scarves? Somehow, Wendy doubted it. She'd bet this was a first ... for Scott--and definitely for herself. He led her to the bed and her breath caught. Soft jazz played from a portable tape player on the colonial-style dresser. Two large scented candles, lit in their glass containers on either side of the maple four-post bed, cast the only light in the room. The bedspread lay folded on the carpet at the foot of the bed. And Wendy's four long scarves rested on the pillows. With slow, languid movements, Scott removed her clothes, forbidding her from helping. She stood there at his mercy as he lifted her T-shirt over her head, unhooked her bra and slid the straps from each shoulder. His breath warm against her belly, he bent down and removed her shorts. Her flesh screamed for his touch, but he ignored it. Lifting first one foot, then the other, he slid her panties down to remove them. He stood again, his gaze caressing her nude body from head to toe, then back again. She shivered, longing to lie beneath him, to have his warm body press into hers. She locked gazes with his, reading desire and need in his eyes that she was certain matched her own. "Lie down." She obeyed him, eager to see where this fantasy led. He tied scarves at her ankles and wrists, then secured each one loosely to one of the posts. He left plenty of slack, in deference to her or her scarves, or both, she wasn't sure. "What's so funny?" he asked. "I was thinking how gentle you are, even in bondage." "Bondage doesn't have to be about pain." Thank God for that, Wendy thought. "So what is bondage about?" "Absolute submission. Trust." He grinned. "Pleasure." Oh, my. She started to ask him if he was going to undress, but held back. This was his fantasy. She'd let him play it out. He did undress, and much faster than he'd disrobed her. His penis jutted out hard and glorious, proving that he wasn't immune to her nudity. She allowed herself a smug smile. The bed shifted with his weight as he climbed on. She longed to touch his engorged flesh with her tongue, to make him come in her mouth. To lick and suck and drive him over the edge with pleasure. He had the same idea. Positioning himself in front of her head, he growled, "open for me, Wendy." "Your wish is my command, master." She took him in her mouth, then worried that he'd push himself in too far. Could she take all of him? She was no Deep Throat, but suddenly wanted to be. He grabbed the headboard and held on while she licked and teased him. Then she raised her head as much as the scarves allowed and took in as much of his length as she dared. She slid her mouth up, then swallowed more of him. She longed to give him the blow job of his life...and hers. Soon, she'd managed
to take him all the way without gagging. Judging from his quickened breath, he enjoyed every stroke. She kept the rhythm, steadily taking him fully in her mouth. He moved with her, thrusting to meet her. Her neck muscles screamed from the awkward position, but she pushed on. And on. And on. He stiffened. Crying out, he emptied into her mouth. She milked every last drop from him, then slumped back against the pillow to rest her weary neck. She closed her eyes, pleased and excited. And aroused. She'd nearly dozed off when a plastic cup touched her lips. "A drink of water for you, slave?" How had he known she'd need that? She opened her eyes and met his gaze. "Thank you, master." Holding the cup for her, he waited while she sipped several drinks. Then his fingers brushed back the hair from her dampened forehead. "You are so pretty." Pretty? Who was he kidding? Presentable, yes, but Wendy Powers had never been called pretty. But it was Scott's fantasy, so she'd play along. "What's next, master?" Scott chuckled. "Relax. We have all night." CHAPTER NINETEEN It's normal to compare a new lover to previous partners. Incredible. She was sexy as hell, Scott thought, not for the first time. He'd worried that he'd be unable to forget Heather in this bedroom, in this bed. But his only thought of Heather had been less than charitable. Heather had liked oral sex. Hell, she'd insisted on it ... for her own pleasure. But she'd never reciprocated beyond a reluctant lick or two. She'd never offered to take him into her mouth. He'd bet his half of their property settlement that she'd never let him come in her mouth. And never, ever swallow. He was equally convinced that Wendy wanted him to. Her hungry gaze, the unconscious licking of her lips, had begged him to enter her mouth. Fellatio hadn't been part of his plan, but he couldn't regret it. Not for a second. She'd pleasured him beyond his wildest fantasies. And, hot damn! He grew hard again just thinking about it. Good thing he'd stocked his nightstand drawer with the economy box of condoms. He climbed back on the bed and straddled her. She grinned at him, her eyes sexy and languid, her lips plump and ripe. Covering her mouth with his, he kissed her like a sex-starved teenager, plunging his tongue to mate with hers. She returned his kisses with fervor. After coming up for air, he licked and nibbled a trail from behind her ear to her tits. With her arms tied up, her breasts were forced into two points, inviting him to take the pink tips into his mouth. He nibbled at one, then the other, using his thumb to stimulate the one neglected by his mouth. Wendy arched her body closer, moaning and purring. So vulnerable, so open, so wet, she was totally at his mercy. And he liked it! "Scott, please! You're torturing me here." He raised his head from her nipple to meet her heated gaze. "Please, what, slave?" "Please ... ah, God, don't stop! I mean..."
"Are you begging for more?" Moving between her outstretched legs, he cupped her wet pussy with his hand. "Yes! No!" She squirmed her body, grinding her pelvis into his palm. "Oh, oh, my." He met her movements, stimulating her with just the hand, and resumed licking her nipples. She hunched her body against his palm in a familiar rhythm, one that had him wondering if he could hold back. He longed to have her grinding her body against his pelvis, plunging his cock inside her to the hilt. She stiffened, then cried out her release in an unintelligible groan. He kissed her neck, her shoulders, then her ear, allowing her a moment of rest. Her breathing eventually slowed, but not to normal. She still trembled with desire and need. "Relax," he said, smoothing her wisps of red hair from her face. He loved touching her hair. Her magnificent red mane fanned over the pillow, framing her face like a headdress. He'd seen her hair smoothly styled, he'd seen it ponytailed. But he'd never seen it sexier than right now. "I-I'm so sensitive, I don't know how much more I can stand." He kissed her, a gentle touch of his lips to hers. "I'll give you a few minutes to recover." But he was far from finished with her. After soothing her with gentle kisses and smoothing out her strands of hair, he waited until her breathing normalized. He slid down to her breasts again and resumed kissing each rigid nipple. Resting on one elbow, he slipped his other hand through her dampened curls, past her feminine folds, then fingered her. She arched off the bed as far as the scarves allowed, moaning. He showed no mercy, just kept his tongue at her tits while finger-fucking her. He increased to three fingers--man she was juicy!--and probed her until he found just the spot that made her squirm. His thumb rubbed against her clitoris. He'd barely touched it when she screamed his name. She rocked against his hand, then stilled, while her vaginal muscle spasmed against his fingers. He withdrew his hand and wiped her juices over his rock-hard cock. For the first time, he longed to take her without the condom, to sink his flesh into her wet, hot pussy. To feel her with no barriers. Had she asked her doctor for birth control pills? She hadn't said, but even so, she'd not had time for them to protect her. The condoms hadn't bothered him before. Why now? Why did he long to feel deep inside her? Dare he take a dip, just once, to find out? Too risky. An unplanned pregnancy would ruin Wendy's life. He wouldn't do that to her. He reached for the nightstand drawer and withdrew the packet. As he rolled it over his eager cock, he stole a glance at her. Her eyes closed, she panted. "Wendy, are you all right?" Her eyes popped open and she smiled. "Yeah, but exhausted." "Can you take more?"
She gave his sheathed penis a pointed stare. "Oh, yes. And hurry, please." He'd intended to lick her into another orgasm but she seemed truly spent. He scooted down between her legs, touched the tip of his cock against her opening, then plunged inside. He drove hard, again and again, and she met him, stroke for stroke. She didn't last a minute. "God, I'm coming. I'm coming. I can't hold--Oh!" Too close to stop, he drove himself deeper, over and over. "Mother of God!" He came, his second orgasm of the hour, in an explosion of sensation like nothing he'd ever experienced. He and Wendy collapsed in a tangle of sweaty bodies and wet sheets. According to the digital bedside clock, they slept an hour before Scott remembered to untie the scarves. **** Wendy stirred, then stretched her aching, stiff muscles. Her shoulders cried out in protest. Her hips ached. How long had she been asleep in bondage? "I'm so sorry," Scott murmured. "I forgot to untie you." She rubbed at her neck muscles, then warmed, remembering the blow job. Oh, yeah. It'd been worth every sore muscle. "Don't worry about it." "Want a neck rub?" He tugged the sheets over them. "Too risky. I remember the last time you gave me a massage." He chuckled. "I doubt I could repeat that performance, at least not this soon." "Come again?" She said, then laughed. He gathered her in his arms and she rested her cheek against his chest. "Tonight was way better than my fantasy." "Way better," she agreed. "What time is it? I need to get home." "Why? Tomorrow's not a work day. Stay the night. We'll go for a morning run, then go out for breakfast." "I don't know..." "Please?" Sleeping all night in his bed seemed unwise. Too tired to identify her objections, she acquiesced. "All right." She had no doubt that they'd start exercising long before the morning jog. CHAPTER TWENTY Prolong the anticipation. Scott opened his eyes. Daylight peeked through the bedroom's lone window with the promise of sunrise. Something seemed different. Cozier. Then he roused himself enough to recognize Wendy's slender arm wrapped around his waist, holding him against her warm, sexy body. Her breath tickled his back.
"Are you awake," he asked. "No." "Okay, but I need to get up." His bladder threatened to burst. "No." She tugged him closer, rubbing her naked tits into his back. "I promise to return." She didn't budge. He sighed. "Nature calls, Wendy." Releasing him from her armlock, she groaned. "It's your fault." He slid from the bed and headed for the bathroom. "What's my fault?" "You're so damn irresistible, I don't want to let you go." Attending to urgent business, he tried to ignore her words. Her sleepy, sultry voice had stirred his blood. He wanted to believe he was a red hot stud, but reality intruded. He'd been the high school nerd, the computer geek. The husband who couldn't satisfy his wife. Irresistible? Not. He took time to brush his teeth before crawling under the sheets to rejoin Wendy. Re-join. He liked that image. Wonder if she would. They'd lain in each other's arms throughout the night, taking turns cuddling each other. Sometimes Wendy seemed more like his lover than his best friend. But she did love him, just as he loved her, just not romantically. Where had 'romantic' gotten him, though? Not since their honeymoon had he and Heather snuggled and embraced all night. After making love, she seemed to retreat to her side of the bed. Now that he thought about it, the last year of their short marriage, it'd been almost like having separate beds. Why hadn't he realized it before? God, no wonder she left him. Had he truly been a negligent husband? "Why the frown?" He hadn't realized Wendy's eyes were open. "Just thinking about stuff." "Heather?" "What else? Oh, Wendy, I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't..." "Stop apologizing. Heather's leaving you is a trauma in your life. You have every right to dwell on it, even if she's not worth it." "See, that's where we disagree. I let her down, don't you see? I'm the one unworthy." "Well, you can think that all you want, but I know better." She sat up in bed and covered her nakedness with the sheet. "But you need to talk this out, Scott, and I'm here for you." Just like that, they were back in friends mode. Talking. Supporting. Wendy had it wrong, though. He didn't need to talk about Heather. He needed to rip away that sheet and suck her nipples until she
begged for more. What was wrong with him? He'd turned into a sex-starved monster. Too bad it hadn't happened with Heather. Why was that? **** Wendy brushed her hair and her teeth, thanks to Scott's supply of new toothbrushes. She stowed hers alongside his--she might need it another time--then dressed in her dirty jogging clothes. She'd rather had her clean ones, but she'd not planned to spend the night. Quickly, she put her other clothes in order. If Heather dropped by, Wendy didn't want to be obvious about having spent the night. She couldn't care less, but didn't want Scott put on the spot. Legally, he and Heather were still married. "Ready?" Scott asked, stretching in the foyer. "Yes. Think I can borrow the washer when we get back and wash these smelly clothes?" "Sure. We'll put a load in before we go to breakfast." She'd wanted him to put a load in before crawling out of bed this morning. Unfortunately, he'd not been in the mood. Damn Heather. Would her ghost haunt Scott forever? Just when Wendy thought she was making progress in bolstering his confidence, he'd stall. Two steps forward, one step back. But Wendy was determined she'd get him there ... eventually. Meanwhile, she admitted to herself that a hiatus on the sex was for the best. She was raw and sore, which was a first. So many things that had happened in her sessions with Scott were firsts. Maybe she shouldn't be so quick to give up on dating. But could it be this good with other guys? Scott was the only man she trusted enough to open up to, in more ways than one. Thinking back over her previous prospects, she couldn't muster enthusiasm for bedding a single one of them. Through Scott's neighborhood, they ran four miles, pushing themselves as if both needed to work out their emotions. Wendy hadn't been sure how she'd feel about spending the night with Scott in his bed--his and Heather's--but she hadn't expected to like it. Independent, she lived alone, slept alone, and liked it that way. Then why had waking up with Scott in her arms been so comfortable? As they slowed to a walk for their cool-down a block from the house, Scott pointed to his driveway. "Looks like company." Dread pooled in her gut. Please, not Heather. "Who is it?" "In an old Volkswagen bus, who do you think? Rainbow and Zack." His parents. "I thought you didn't see much of them..." "I don't, not since they moved to Colorado. Wonder what brings them to South Carolina." Scott's mood darkened although Wendy failed to understand. She remembered his parents as off-beat, but likeable. They'd been together since 1969. Judging from their ages, they'd had Scott in their middle thirties. Still, Rainbow Scott and Zack Drysdale had never bothered to marry. Wendy and Scott approached the house, where the older couple stood at the door. Rainbow, her long gray-streaked hair wild about her shoulders, looked remarkably fit for her age in her tank top and cut-offs. Her Jesus sandals hadn't changed. In fact, they may have been the ones she wore to Scott's college graduation.
Blond, Nordic Zachary Drysdale had lost some of the hair and gained some weight. Dressed like Jimmy Buffett, he pushed sunglasses up his nose and grinned. "Hi, son." "Zack." Scott nodded. Bending over, he untied his house key from his running shoe laces. "This is a surprise." "Wendy!" Rainbow hugged her, despite Wendy's sweat. "Been jogging, I see. That's so smart to exercise." "Heather's not home?" Zach asked. "Heather's filed for divorce." Scott's tone was flat as he worked the key, opening the door. "Come on in." Rainbow clicked her tongue. "Now, you see? That's the trouble with marriage. You just make a couple of lawyers rich when you go your separate ways." Wendy laughed. She'd always enjoyed Scott's parents, partly because they were polar opposites of her own. "Amen to that!" Scott ushered everyone inside. "Wendy and I'd planned to hit the diner for some breakfast. You want to join us?" "After a shower," Wendy added. "No restaurant would let me through the door smelling like this." "You go first," Scott said. His eyes pleaded for her to hurry. **** Out of respect for his vegetarian parents, Scott and Wendy ordered hotcakes. Scott longed for a couple of fried eggs, but he didn't want to earn Rainbow's disapproving glare. Not that she'd say anything. Just as she'd said little about Heather's absence, his mother communicated well without talking. Zack, on the other hand, seemed more at ease without Heather around. He and Rainbow hadn't exactly welcomed Heather with open arms, but so what? They'd hardly approved of anything Scott did in his life. His fascination with science and math, his retreat to his studies, and his lack of athletic ability had been an embarrassment to the two hippies. They'd never said as much. They'd told him they'd like to see him loosen up, soak in all the experiences life had to offer, not hide away in his room with a book or his computer. Little did they know that he'd recently loosened up beyond their wildest imaginings. Beyond his wildest imaginings. Wendy forked a bite of pancake, then slipped it between her lips. He nearly groaned aloud, thinking about how she had loosened him up. Thoughts of last night, of sliding his cock into her mouth, hardened him. He didn't dare leave the table at the moment! Too bad the diner didn't have tablecloths ... long tablecloths. "Scotty, are you all right?" Rainbow peered at him through her granny wire-rims. "Fine," he muttered. Except for wanting to crawl under this table and put my face between Wendy's legs. Wendy met his gaze and smiled. She unconsciously licked syrup from her lips. An ordinary gesture, it
sent a ribbon of pure lust curling up his groin. He finished his pancakes without tasting them. All he could think about was getting back to the house with Wendy. Alone. He hoped to God Rainbow and Zack cut their visit short. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE Be flexible; play it by ear. Scott left Wendy standing with Rainbow and Zack in the diner's vestibule while he paid the check. He'd seemed unenthused about having breakfast with his parents, though not out and out rude. Rainbow gave her an enigmatic smile. "Scotty wants us to leave." "What makes you think that?" Wendy jumped to Scott's defense. "He's really been tense about breaking up with Heather." "He's always been too uptight," Zack said. "He's not tense about Heather, Wendy, he's tense about you." "Me?" Rainbow laughed, then winked at Zack. "It's cool. We saw your toothbrush." Wendy shook her head no, repeatedly. "It's not like that. We're friends..." "Could be. Zack and I are best friends." She linked arms with Zack. "Did you know that for all our rhetoric about free love, I've never had sex with another man?" Wendy covered her ears. "We're not having this conversation!" These were Scott's parents, for Pete's sake. Too much information. "I'm just saying I know what I'm talking about, Wendy. I watched how my son looks at you. It's like Zack used to look at me..." "Still do, babe," Zack said. He gazed lovingly at Rainbow. She laid her hand over his and squeezed. "Me, too." All starry eyed after decades? But instead of disgust, Wendy felt a strange twinge of envy. No! Not envy. She didn't want a man in her life. Wendy decided she'd go outside for fresh air, regardless of the climbing temperature. She grabbed the door handle. "Sorry to disappoint you two, but there's no romance between us. Scott thinks of me as a friend." "Maybe. But just for the record, I hope I'm right and you're wrong." Wendy stopped. "Why?" "Because, honey, we like what you do for him." Heat rushed through Wendy and she hadn't even made it outside yet. Had they any idea what she'd done for him, to him, and with him? My God, this was his mother talking. What must she think? Zack picked up where Rainbow left off. "You've put a foolish grin on his face, a twinkle of mischief and
fun in his eye. Sorry, but if he's suffering from this divorce, I'll be damned if I see it." "Foolish grin? Twinkle in his eye? Bullshit!" They exchanged a look of triumph. Rainbow said, "See, you're too emotional not to be involved..." "Scott's been sullen and quiet and borderline rude. How can you say..." "Because he doesn't want us here," Zack said. "He wants to be alone with you." They were confusing lust with love, of course, but she wasn't going to tell them. Truth was, she wanted to be alone with Scott, too. She wanted to give him one more "lesson" before she returned to her apartment. But she kept her mouth shut about it. "Here's Scott now," Zack said. Scott approached the interior door then, stuffing his wallet back into his pants pocket. None too soon, as far as Wendy was concerned. She needed to exit this bizarre conversation. Rainbow got in the last word, though. Crossing her arms over her chest, she gave Wendy a smug grin, then whispered "Scotty's in love with you, silly." **** "If she called me 'Scotty' one more time, I was going to scream." Wendy waved at the Volkswagen as it backed into the street. "Is that why you were so tense at breakfast?" Was he tense? True, he hadn't been thrilled to have his parents drop in unannounced. But he'd been so worked up, watching Wendy lick syrup from her fork and lips, he'd nearly lost it. She triggered memories of her previous seductions--vivid and intense memories. Wendy turned, meeting his gaze, waiting for his answer. What was her question? Oh, right. "Not exactly. Come on. Let's go inside." He followed her into the cool foyer, shut the door, then twisted the deadbolt lock. When he turned around, Wendy was sprawled on the sofa. "Whew! I'll admit, Rainbow and Zack wear a person down. Where do they get their energy?" He crowded next to her on the sofa, eager to feel her flesh against his. Hot damn, she smelled nice. "They've always been that way. Impulsive, spontaneous. They never plan anything, never call ahead." She gave his thigh a playful squeeze. "You can't stand that 'playing it by ear' attitude, can you?" "Okay, so I am very focused and organized..." "And there's nothing wrong with that. I hate chaos, too." She removed her hand from his leg, dammit. He sure wasn't focused today, except on his sex organ. "Please don't tell me I need to loosen up. That's what Rainbow has always told me." "I won't say that because I've seen you let loose in ways your mother never will." She gave him a wide grin while wiggling her eyebrows. He crowded her more, pinning her into the corner of the sofa, and her breath hitched. "So when's my
next lesson?" "Tomorrow, at my place." Disappointment swept over him. He'd wanted it today. Now. This minute. He exaggerated a pout. "Was that the wrong answer, Scotty?" His eyebrows lifted at the nickname. Grinning, he said, "Tomorrow at your place is a good plan, but today let's play it by ear." "So you can be flexible?" "I can be flexible." He slid his hand up her thigh, beneath her shorts, wishing she wore those skimpy nylon running shorts. Her breathing quickened, but so did his. He nuzzled her breasts through the thin T-shirt fabric. "I can be hard, too." She grabbed his head, shoving it against her chest. "I like it hard." "Can't we take this thing off?" She released his head and gazed at him with mirth in her eyes. "Be my guest." He pulled her to her feet, then undressed her as quickly as he could without appearing to be a horny, impatient teen. She tugged at his shirt, pulling it over his head, then reached for his fly. Finally, they were standing nude. He stared at her perfect round tits, her firm curves. The triangle of red hair at her crotch. His erection throbbed. "How would you like it this time, stud muffin?" He hesitated, afraid she'd think he was crude. But this was Wendy. She'd know he wouldn't be rough or hurt her. "I want it fast and hard." "Okay." "Bend over." "Oh, my," she said, dropping to the carpet on all fours. Fast and hard, but he still needed a condom. "I'll be right back." He raced to the nightstand, returned with the requisite foil packet, then sheathed himself. Wendy hadn't moved from her position. Oh, yes! He got down on his knees and closed in on her sexy little ass. Anal sex didn't interest him, but he sure liked the view from the back. Leaning over her, he let her adjust to his weight. His fingers fondled her pussy, already wet for him. He found her clitoris and rubbed it and her into a frenzy. She bucked against his hand, wanting more and more stimulation. Finally, just as she stiffened and was about to come, he thrust two fingers of his other hand into her slick canal. God, he loved the way it quivered at his fingers, dampening it with her juices. She whimpered, then cried out her release. He kept at it with his fingers, not giving her a chance to relax. "Please, Scott, now! Now, dammit!"
He sat back on his haunches, pushed the tip of his cock at her wet opening, then eased inside an inch. Taking a deep breath, he rammed it home. Incredible sensation shot through him. Deep inside her tight, hot body, he shoved deeper, as deep as he could go. Wendy came immediately, screaming and moaning. More than he could take, he lasted only two strokes. Then he succumbed to an avalanche of pleasure and collapsed on top of her. They lay there several minutes, recovering from another round of sensational sex. Scott hadn't paused to remember that this was the first time he'd had a woman doggy-style. It was the first time he'd had sex on his own living room carpet. And it was the first time he'd gotten laid without the intrusion of a single thought or memory of Heather. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO Learn from your mistakes. Sunday morning, after jogging, Scott seemed to sense Wendy's need for some privacy. "Separate showers all right with you this time?" She smiled. "It'd save time." "Okay, then. I'll meet you in the kitchen." A few minutes later, Wendy towel-dried her hair while heading for the kitchen. She needed to blow-dry and smooth the shoulder-length curls into an orderly style, but hunger won out. Scott had already started a new pot of coffee. "What do you need me to do?" "Get out the plates and forks. I'll whip up a frittata. What kind would you like?" "I have a choice?" His smile of approval washed over her. Didn't Heather cook? "It's turkey sausage, salsa, or mushroom." "Mushroom's my favorite." "Mine, too." She reached for a jar of sliced mushrooms from the cabinet, brushing her breasts against Scott arm. An accidental collision of flesh, it jolted her with unexpected desire. It had been nearly twenty-four hours since they'd coupled like animals in Scott's living room. Warmth surged through her blood at the memory. Scott didn't seem to notice. "Man, it's nice not to argue about what we eat. Heather constantly diets and lectures me about fat grams." "Yeah, and look at her. It pays off in spades." "You're not fat." "I diet more than you know. I use egg substitutes and light cheese and stuff." She dumped the mushrooms into the egg mixture. "It pays off in spades," he said, borrowing her own words. "Hmm, thanks." He arranged plates and flatware on the placemats at her breakfast bar. Once again, Wendy recalled the
day they'd sprawled across it in wild abandon. Would she ever erase that image from her memory? "You aren't obsessed like Heather is." "I'll have you know, I work hard for this body." She poured the egg substitute mixture onto the griddle, then watched it sizzle. "I'm really glad we've been running together, too. I get in more miles than I would with lunch hour jogs." "It helps me, too. After Heather and I married, I invited her to join me running laps around the track, the way you and I used to." He shrugged. "She doesn't like to sweat." "Running is not for everyone. If you recall, you weren't wild about it at first." "That's because I thought you intended for me to compete. I don't enjoy competing, as you well know." She folded the frittata, then lowered the heat. "You were competing, but not in sports. You were vying for Heather Michaels' attention." "Right. You said I needed muscles." Turning her attention from the griddle, she gave his thigh a quick pinch. "It paid off in spades, too." "I got the muscles and I got Heather ... temporarily." She slid the frittatas onto each plate. "Eat. Then we'll talk about Heather." "You mean, hold off so we don't lose our appetites?" he teased. She dug her fork into the fluffy frittata. "I'm serious. I think you need to talk this out. Your marriage has died. You need to perform a post mortem, to understand it and move on." "Right." He frowned, seemed about to say more, then tore into his frittata. Wendy wanted nothing more than to progress with another sex lesson. But Scott's lingering self-image issues involved more than sex. He was her best and closest friend. She had to help him through this difficult period of adjustment. Sadly, screwing their brains out each time they got together wasn't enough. But it hadn't hurt, either. Had it? **** After helping Wendy load the dishwasher, Scott followed her into her living room. She said he needed to talk. Maybe he did. But right now, more than anything, he needed to bury himself inside her. He chalked it up to his committed relationship with Heather for not having noticed Wendy's hot, sexy body before. She'd always been his friend, always around. Inside, she was truly beautiful. He'd just never recognized the outer package until the last couple of days. Now he couldn't seem to get enough of touching her. Even in public, he struggled to keep his hands to himself. He'd stop trying to analyze it. He already knew the answer. With Wendy, he could be himself. Marriage with Heather had felt like a never-ending audition. He'd hoped if he stayed in line, measured up to what she wanted, he'd get the job on a permanent basis. In a way, her leaving him had been less of a surprise than he'd initially admitted. He'd failed his probation period.
Wendy plopped down on the loveseat beside him. She combed her fingers through her curls, leaving a wild mane in their wake. He liked the reckless style, the "just-fucked" look. Wasn't it his sorry luck to fall in love with the wrong woman? "You know, it's too bad I didn't fall in love with you instead of Heather." She shook her head and laughed. "You didn't even see me as a girl. I was like one of the guys." "I just figured I stood no chance with you. I mean, you knew the real me. Scott Zachary Drysdale, computer geek extraordinaire." "For what it's worth, we both lost out. I let Ron Williams, jerk extraordinaire, break my heart, when I should've been chasing a genuinely intelligent, sensitive computer geek." He burst out laughing at that. "How charming that sounds!" "Anyway, you need to talk about your marriage, but not necessarily to me. A counselor..." "Why not? You're my best friend. I have no secrets..." "I don't like to pry. Your relationship with your wife is highly personal." There was no escaping this talk. "I don't think you're prying. I just don't know what I'm supposed to be talking about." "I read an article about divorce. There are phases you need to go through to heal. It's like mourning." Wendy wanted to help. Maybe talking about his marriage would be therapeutic. "Tell me about the phases." "First, there's shock. I think you're through that one, don't you?" "Yes. It hurts like hell, but at least I'm used to the idea now. Seeing an attorney made it all too real." She nodded. "Hurt is the second phase, and probably the longest. It can overlap with phase three, which is anger." "I'm already through that. When she told me she had someone else, I wanted to punch my fist through the door." "No, you aren't through that phase yet. You're still convinced that you failed Heather. You aren't pissed at her shortcomings, at her failures in this marriage." Because I have failed Heather. "How do you know?" "Listen to yourself. You berate yourself for being boring or for being a social recluse. You're convinced that you lack something Heather needs. Earlier you talked as if you would still have Heather if you'd built better muscles, for Cripes sake." "Because I didn't want her to leave. She's the one with the grievances." Wendy shook her head no before he finished. "No breakup is one person's fault. You haven't emotionally reached the point where you can share the blame with her." "Busted. So I need to get angry with her. What comes next?"
"Resignation. The anger fades and you resign yourself to the divorce." "Can you skip some of the phases? I mean, couldn't I go from shock to resignation?" "It's not healthy. You need to go through the whole process in order to heal." She took his hand and squeezed it, a gentle squeeze. He'd about resigned himself to no sex tonight. Wendy was on a roll. "After I reconcile myself to the divorce, then what?" "Acceptance. That's the point at which you're ready to move on with your life and can genuinely hold no hard feelings toward Heather. It's even possible to adjust so well that your feelings toward Heather are neutral." "Neutral? Like I don't give a damn?" "More like, you don't begrudge Heather finding her own happiness. You say, 'I wish you the best', and mean it." "Hmm. I'm not there yet. I still want her to suffer, to spend every waking moment filled with regret." "Sounds more like you're fantasizing a reconciliation." She released her hand and looked away. Her voice held a hint of emotion, something he couldn't quite identify. Disgust? Disappointment? "No, I'm not." I'm fantasizing going down on you. "Answer me this, and be honest, okay?" She waited for his nod. "If Heather were waiting for you when you got home today, saying she'd changed her mind and wanted to salvage your marriage, what would you say to her? "I'd say..." Hell, what would he say? Much as he'd enjoyed his wild sex with Wendy, he'd be elated if Heather came back. He'd do everything in his power to satisfy her, to impress her, to make her glad she'd returned. She was the love of his life. Wasn't she? "I rest my case." "What? I haven't answered yet." "Oh, yes you have. It's written all over your face." "Oh, Wendy, I'm sorry..." "Why? It's absolutely natural. The lesson here is that you have much to work through. Don't assume you're farther along in the healing process than you are. It takes time, give it time." She had a point. "Okay, I concede that I can't rush through the emotional turmoil of the divorce, of losing Heather." "Good." "I'll concede another thing, too." She smiled. "Oh, and what would that be?"
"As much as I wanted to jump into bed with you for more lessons in sex, the things you've told me make sense. And you've helped me a lot. So I'm glad we talked." "You make the two sound mutually exclusive," she said with a mischievous grin. She leaned closer, sliding her arm around his waist. His breath quickened at her touch. She tucked her head beneath his chin as he claimed her in a gentle embrace. Her hair smelled of strawberries and sunshine. His longing for her that had simmered beneath the surface burst free. He wanted her. He wanted to take her now. CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE Don't settle for routine sex. Lying in his arms, Wendy surrendered to the sexual tension that had tormented her since Scott's arrival. She accepted her role as Heather's stand-in. She'd enjoy to the fullest the pleasure Heather had discarded like yesterday's leftovers. If Heather didn't appreciate Scott, Wendy would. In spades. They started to undress each other. Suddenly, Scott stilled her hands as she reached for his zipper. "It's your turn. What's today's fantasy?" She remembered the appointment she had with her gynecologist the next day and her earlier fantasy. She stepped back, hands on hips. "Let's play doctor and nurse." "Ooh, doctor and nurse." He raked her body with a heated gaze. "Will we need uniforms?" "We'll begin out of uniform." "And how does this doctor-nurse thing work?" She tapped her chin with her index finger. "I'm the doctor. Get undressed, lie down, and I'll be in to exam you soon." "I see." "The examining room is at the end of the hall." She pointed toward her bedroom. "Just open the door when you're ready." Chuckling, he strolled down the hall. Allowing time for him to remove his shorts, she rushed into the hall bath and gathered up a few items from the cabinet beneath the sink, including a towel. She removed the last of her clothes, then headed for the bedroom. The door gaped in invitation. She gave it a soft knock, then entered. Scott lay on his back on her bed, his head propped up with both pillows. He'd pulled the quilted bedspread to cover his lower extremities. "Good afternoon, Mr. Drysdale. I'm Dr. Powers. What seems to be your ailment?" "I have a problem with my penis, doctor." She pulled back the bedspread, fully exposing him. His cock stood at attention. "I think I'd better lock the door before we begin your treatment," she said, turning toward the door. She locked it, turned back
around, and grinned. "What is the prescribed treatment, Doctor?" "Well, let's see." She edged beside his hip and sat, pretending to examine his rigid penis. "It appears swollen and stiff. I'm afraid we'll have to relieve the pressure." "Will it have to be bandaged?" he asked. "Temporarily. Nothing you have to wear home." She withdrew a foil packet. "I'll have to enclose it with this during the last stage of the procedure." "How long is this...procedure?" "That depends. Now, lie back and close your eyes. It's better that you not watch." "Uh, is it painful, doc?" "Oh, no. But you will feel it, I promise." She laid the folded towel across his eyes. "No peeking." "I trust you, Doctor. I know my penis is in good hands." Scott lay there in total submission, triggering a memory of her giving herself completely to him at the breakfast bar. Arousal swept through her, along with another emotion she couldn't put a name to. She swallowed the lump in her throat. What was that? She pushed the feeling aside to focus on her fantasy. "I don't know if you should trust me, Mr. Drysdale." She opened the bottle of special oil she'd bought--the kind that wouldn't compromise the condom's latex--poured a generous amount onto her hands, then rubbed her hands together. "I'm rumored to, um, take advantage of my male patients." "All of your male patients?" "Only the young, sexy ones. Now, I'll be applying a little ointment." She placed her oiled hands on the insides of his thighs, moving toward his scrotum. Except for a sudden intake of breath, Scott didn't move. Even when she rubbed the oil into his balls, massaging them, he lay still. She rubbed the oil up his shaft, then down. Up and down. He writhed beneath her hands, groaning deep in his throat. "Oh, Mr. Drysdale, am I hurting you?" "Ah, no." "Good." She removed the towel from his eyes, then used it to wipe up the excess oil from her hands. "I need the help of a good nurse before I can complete your therapy." Straddling him, she slid both hands beneath his shoulders and tugged. His eyes widened with understanding and he smiled. He raised up on his elbows, and his hot, wet mouth took possession of one of her distended nipples and sucked greedily. All reason fled. She nearly took him inside her, without regard to the missing condom. White-hot desire shot through her. With each caress of his tongue, her arousal mushroomed. Tingling, aching, she needed him inside her. Oh, God, she needed him! He blew against her nipple, teasing it, then suckled the other. Another tide of arousal washed over her.
The tingling beginnings of a climax seized her groin. Rubbing herself against the outside of his erection, she sought relief. She caressed his flesh with hers, without barriers. The sheer intimacy of the contact, the pull of his mouth at her breast, collided and nearly dissolved her. For a brief moment, she considered impaling herself without protection. She'd just had her period. Could there be risk yet? She yearned to feel the ribbed hardness of his flesh intimately inside her. No damn rubbers. Dare she take a chance? Get a grip! Pulling away from Scott's 'nursing,' she grabbed the foil packet, ripped it open, then tugged the latex over his rigid cock. The next moment, she'd lowered herself on him, taking him deep. "Touch me! Rub my nipples. Oh, please, Scott!" The doctor-nurse scenario abandoned, she rode him hard, driving him as deep inside her as possible, holding back her own satisfaction so they could come together. She bit at her lower lip, holding back the vortex of sensation threatening her control. "Oh, hurry, Scott. Now!" He lifted his hips, meeting her thrust for thrust, slamming into her with as much force as possible. From deep inside where his tip probed her, turbulence built. She spread her legs farther apart to take more of him. Wet and sticky from her own juices, she lubricated his sheathed cock. The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth. She could hold back no longer. A burning sweetness exploded, rippling from inside her and spreading, like molten lava. At the same time, Scott cried out her name, bucking and writhing in rhythm with her tremors. Oh, my. Whoever said simultaneous climaxes were overrated had never had one like this! She collapsed on top of him, and neither spoke for a long, long time. CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR Quickies are underrated. Monday afternoon, Wendy arrived at her apartment late after a lengthy visit to her doctor. Scott had let himself in--She'd told him to keep the spare key--and waited for her in the living room. She'd expected him dressed to run. Instead, he wore his work suit and a frown. "What's wrong?" "I have to fly to San Francisco. The instructor for the engineering updates seminar is laid up with a heart attack. They've asked me to sub." She sank into the morass of pillows on the loveseat opposite the one in which he sat. "That's an honor, isn't it? I mean, to be called to the home office..." "It's for three weeks." Three weeks? She didn't understand the sense of loss that overtook her. She didn't want a man in her life. She liked her privacy. That hadn't changed. What was the matter with her? "I can think of few places I'd rather spend three weeks in than San Francisco." She sighed, wishing she could go with him. Or at least fly out and meet him over a weekend. But she had her own job pressures.
She'd barely spared the time for today's doctor's appointment. "I have to leave tonight." "Oh." Disappointment overwhelmed her. She hadn't realized how quickly she'd fallen into the habit of spending her evenings and weekends with her friend. "I'm going to miss you." "You are?" His eyes widened in mild surprise. "I've been underfoot ever since Heather left. I'd think you'd enjoy the respite." "Respite? Is that what you think?" Her mind started planning a farewell "lesson," something to send him off with. A red hot memory to keep him company in his lonely hotel room in an unfamiliar city. Oh, yeah. She squirmed just thinking about it. He grinned. "Not really. I'm still just an insecure guy hinting for reassurance." "Yeah, well, get over it. You know I enjoy our time together." Especially the sex, though she didn't come right out and say it. "Are you packed and ready?" He nodded. "My bags are in the car. I'll leave from here. I just stopped by to let you know." Then he stared into space, as if forgetting where he was. After a strained silence, Wendy asked, "What else? You seem ... preoccupied." "I called that number Heather left." He shrugged. "I figured she might need to know in case something came up with the lawyers or ... whatever." "Yes, you needed to let her know how to reach you. Did you talk to her?" "Some man answered." She clenched her fists. Damn Heather. "Oh, Scott, I know how much that hurt..." "No. I think I've moved to the anger stage. She wasted no time replacing me. I mean, I know she said she'd found someone, but I didn't think she'd already moved in with the son of a bitch mother fucker." She fought a grin at Scott's epithet. Always the gentleman, he rarely cursed. "Yep. I'd say you've progressed to anger." "The nerve of that bitch." "Too bad you don't have time for a run to release some of that rage." "I have time. I..." He swallowed, then gave her a shy smile. "I just need to be with you. That's all." "Be with me ... in the Biblical sense?" Her nipples hardened instantly. He shook his head no. "I don't have enough time to do justice to..." "Hey, I'm not going to get any for three weeks. Can't we at least have a quickie?" She moved to the other love seat. When she reached for his belt buckle, she smiled at the tented fabric below. "Yep, I think we can have a quickie." No words of protests came. Scott lifted his hips as she yanked down his trousers. He slid his hands up her skirt, found the elastic waistband of her pantyhose and panties, then helped her out of them.
She climbed atop him, straddling him. "Wait! I need a rubber," he said. "No, you don't. I have a patch." "A patch?" No time to explain the new weekly contraceptive patch the doctor had fixed to her hip, she poised over his engorged penis, ready to take him deep inside. "Trust me." His breath shuddered, hot against her neck. He reached his hand between them, slipping his fingers inside her wet, hot canal. How could she be so ready for him, and so quickly? "You know, I've fantasized about having you with no barriers," he said. "Really? I've fantasized about feeling you inside me, flesh to flesh. Looks like we get to act out one more fantasy before you leave." "Thank you, God!" When he touched her opening with the tip of his penis, she, too, felt as if the patch was an answer to a prayer. His tiny bead of moisture added its lubrication, not that she needed any more. She guided him inside her, slowly at first to savor the feeling. Oh, my. How much better to feel his skin against the sensitive tissue inside her. "Oh, this feels so incredible." "Heavenly. Oh, Wendy, oh!" She slid herself up and down in slow, deliberate movements. Each stroke took him deeper. His swollen flesh filled her. "Definitely better without the condom," she murmured. He stiffened, threw back his head, and grimaced. "I think it's too much. I can't hold back--" "Let go, Scott. It's all right." He exploded inside her, pumping his fluid into her. No barriers, no damn condom. What a sensation. Wendy rocked against him, and came seconds later. She kissed him, long and thorough. When she came up for air, Scott was gazing at her. He placed his hands on either side of her face, then placed a gentle kiss on her lips. Then her cheeks. Her eyes. Her neck. He cradled her face with a show of tenderness that brought a lump to her throat. She couldn't speak for a full minute. "If that's your idea of a quickie, I'd like to try it again sometime," he said. She smiled. "Soon as you get back in town, traveler." He grabbed her by the waist when she moved to get up. "Hold still. This is a lot messier without a rubber. You'll stain your upholstery." Who cares? Wendy had never met a man considerate of a woman's furniture before. Scott cared about so many things that escaped most men's notice. "I need to grab a towel. We don't want to stain your clothes, either."
Exercising care, they managed to disentangle their sticky limbs and hobble to the bathroom to clean up. The tiny spot of leakage on the loveseat cleaned up with a damp cloth. "See?" she said. "Nothing to worry about." Scott dressed while she finished changing into shorts and a T-shirt. She walked him to the door. "I'm going to miss you, Wendy." "You can call if you get lonely." "Probably every night." He smiled. "I'm so glad we're, you know ... friends who can be lovers." "Me, too." He opened the door, then spun around. Encircling her waist with his arms, he pulled her against him. His lips covered hers in a powerful kiss, a kiss like none they'd shared. Urgency, desperation? No, more like ownership, as if he were staking some sort of claim. "I'll call you," he said, releasing her from his embrace. "Have a safe trip," she murmured. Stunned, she locked the door behind him. She staggered to the living room, collapsed on the loveseat, then touched her fingers to her still-tingling lips. She and Scott were friends who'd agreed to share sex for awhile, right? Then why had he kissed her like a man possessed? Like a man in love? CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE Absence makes the heart grow fonder. Wendy threw herself into her job, trying to fill the void of Scott's absence. She wished she hadn't become so attached to his company. When he'd been safely married, they'd seen each other maybe once a month, although they'd often chatted by phone. Good friends, true, but not inseparable. Sex had changed everything. Despite their determination to preserve their friendship no matter what, Wendy feared they were fooling only themselves. Could she really keep her hands off the only man who drove her wild in bed? The sad truth was, someday Scott would date again. Or Heather would come to her senses and come home. In either event, when he settled down, he'd have to sever his bond to Wendy. Panic gripped her. She didn't want him to sever the bond. What was with her, anyway? She didn't want a man around, she didn't want to give up Scott... What did she want? Great sex on demand? A niggling voice in the back of her brain warned her that this new attachment involved more than sex. "Are you working late again?" Lisa, standing in the door of Wendy's office, jolted her from her confused thoughts. "A little. Why? Are you here to make me a better offer?" Lisa harrumphed. "As if you'd accept. You've been mooning around here for two weeks. When does Scott get back?"
"Mooning? Oh, Lisa," she said, waving her hand dismissively. "It's not like that." "Yeah, yeah, Scott's just a friend. I've heard it ad nauseam." Lisa stepped inside, closing the door behind her. "A friend you have hot sex with. Admit it. You miss him." "Yes, I miss him. Satisfied?" "No," Lisa said, winking. "I haven't been satisfied since things went sour between me and Burk." Things went sour when Lisa found out Burk was married, but Wendy didn't find it necessary to remind her. "Keep striking out with guys, eh?" "Yes. I even tried auto-eroticism, per your recommendation." "I keep telling you, you can be your own best lover." "Maybe I need to buy a vibrator. I'm just not getting off with the vegetables in my crisper." "Vegetables? Don't tell me. I don't want to know." But Wendy knew better than to believe she could shut up her chatty friend. "The best was this big, fat carrot. I trimmed the top off, of course--" Wendy covered her ears with her hands. "I'm not listening to this." "Okay," Lisa said, then waited for Wendy to lower her hands. "But I gave new meaning to creamed carrots." "I really needed that visual, thank you very much." "You're welcome. Back to Scott, how much longer are you going to deny the obvious, girlfriend?" "What are you talking about?" "Anyone can see you're a woman in love." "No, I'm not. I'm just having great sex at the moment. Uncomplicated sex." Lisa crossed her arms beneath her breasts. "Uncomplicated. If you say so." "Now can I get back to work?" "Not tonight. Come on, Wendy. It's Friday. Let's go to Harpers or Titan's." "I'll go out with you, but not to Titan's. That's where Heather hangs out, isn't it?" "Yes, but why should you avoid her? Come on. Let's spy on her. It'll be fun." Wendy glanced down at her pale blue suit, then back to Lisa's neon orange spandex pants and parrot-print shirt, shaking her head. How the two opposites had become friends was a mystery. "I can hardly blend into the woodwork and spy on anyone with you by my side." Lisa snapped her fingers. "I've got it! Let's go shopping first. A good mall trip is sure to cure the blues." "I don't have the blues..."
"Whatever. Lock up your desk and let's lose this place." **** Scott tried Wendy's number for the fourth time that evening. Surely she wasn't working late again. He stared at the bedside telephone, as if willing her to pick up on the other end. He'd gone out for dinner with some of the software engineers, but declined their invitation to go to a jazz club. He had the latest Tom Clancy hardback started and looked forward to a quiet evening of reading in bed. And he wanted to talk to Wendy. She answered on the third ring. "Hello." "Hi. You work late again?" "Not tonight. Went shopping with Lisa, then on to Titan's." God help him, he wanted to ask if she'd seen Heather. But Heather's social life was no longer any of his business. "Have fun?" he asked, instead. She sighed into the phone. "The shopping was fun. Titan's is nothing but a meat market." He chuckled. "I share your pain. I never enjoyed the place, either. So ... did a bunch of guys hit on you?" "Actually, just one. A guy Lisa's been trying to set me up with, Drew somebody." An onslaught of jealousy flooded him. He dismissed it. This was Wendy. He had no claims on her. But the green-eyed monster wasn't easily dispatched. "Well? What's he like?" "Conceited, predictable, and immature. Other than that, a likeable guy." Weak with relief, though he shouldn't have cared, Scott laughed. "I see." "Just another toad in my quest to find the prince." "Oh, great. So now I'm a toad?" "No, you're a prince. You know that. You just aren't my prince." He wanted to ask her why he wasn't her prince. Was it because he was still married to Heather? Or was it because he didn't fit Wendy's criteria? The most pressing question of all, though, was why the answer mattered so much? He and Wendy were just friends. Weren't they? "So have you been back to Fisherman's Wharf?" "We ate there tonight. I had monkfish." "What's that taste like?" "It tastes a lot like lobster, if you can imagine that." What he really longed to taste right now was Wendy.
Her mouth, her skin, the musky taste of her pussy... Man, he was homesick! "I miss you." She laughed at his abrupt subject change. "I miss you, too, Scott. In fact, I've been planning your homecoming." "So have I. And it's my turn, isn't it? Sex without a condom was a shared fantasy, so it doesn't count." "Hmm. Then I suppose it is your turn. What's your fantasy? Tell me now." Her sultry voice had him squirming in the sheets. "That's easy..." "Oh, really? I like it better hard." "Oh, it'll be hard for you." In truth, just talking about sex with Wendy was enough to arouse him. "My fantasy is to have you here with me, now." "Maybe I can help you." "Help me?" Understanding penetrated his brain. "You mean, over the phone, right?" "Sure. Phone sex." "I've never had phone sex." "Neither have I, but I bet we can play it by ear." Her voice purred over the line. With her, he was learning to enjoy playing things by ear. "Are you in bed now?" "Yes." "Okay, turn out the lights and get naked." He complied, his breathing shallow. Man, she could turn him on with just her voice. "Are you getting naked?" A rustle in the background brought images of Wendy undressing for him. "Yes. I'm down to my underwear. I'll unsnap the bra, but pretend it's your hand. Tell me how you want to touch me, Scott." Oh, yeah. He could do this. "Slip both of my hands into your bra and slide it down your arms." "Okay. It's gone. Now what?" "Now, thumb your nipples until they ache with need." "Oh, oh, yes. That's it, Scott. Yes." Her own breathing quickened to match his. "Now my hand is going to fondle your balls. Got that?" Somehow, with Wendy calling the shots, Scott didn't consider this playing with himself. He rubbed at his testicles and his cock sprang forward. "Yes. Oh, you're giving me a hard-on, sweetheart." "Hmm. I'm still wearing panties." "Are they those thongs?" "Yeah. Shall we slide those off?" "Ditch the thongs. Leave one of my hands on your tits, the other needs to delve into the folds of your
pussy." He couldn't believe he was talking to her like this. Gone was the shy, uncertain high school junior who'd needed Wendy to teach him to talk to girls. She'd taught him much, much more. "Are you there now?" She moaned into the phone. "One hand's at my nipple, one hand's at my clit. My hand is stroking your penis. Slow, steady, regular. Tell me how it feels." He could barely talk. "Um, good." "Keep it up." "Oh, it's up, all right." "Hmm. I can feel it. Oh, yes. You are so thick and hard and big in my hand." "Spread your legs, Wendy. Take in three fingers, okay?" "Ooh, that feels good. Now what?" "I'm kissing you. Rub your wet fingers across your clitoris. That's my wet tongue on you." "Aw, Jesus, Scott, this is working." "Keep it up. Wet your fingers inside yourself again and keep going. Over and over. I'm licking you and I'm working your nipples. That's it. Keep going." "Keep up the hand job, only now it's not my hand. It's me. You're inside of me. Squeeze yourself a little and pretend those are my muscles, milking you." Yes, oh, man, yes. He lifted his hips off the bed, meeting his strokes, Wendy breathing fast and heavy into his ear, moaning his name. "Scott, let's come together, okay? You have to tell me." "Not much longer, baby. Oh, God!" "Talk to me!" "My lips are licking your pussy into a frenzy. You're unable to concentrate now. The sensation is too strong. Let it carry you over the edge." He had to stop talking, having lost his own concentration. "Scott, I-I'm coming!" "Me, too," he gasped, then emptied himself over his hand, onto the sheet, and across his stomach. But he didn't feel the least perverted about jacking off in his hotel room. Wendy had been right there with him. "I'm milking you dry with my vaginal muscles, Scott. Can you feel it?" His hand pulsed against his sensitive flesh. "I feel it, baby. I feel it." Wendy panted in his ear from two thousand miles away. "We came together, didn't we?" "We sure did. I think phone sex is a very good thing." "A very good thing," she agreed. He now knew how he and Wendy would get through the next week. CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Trust is vital in a relationship. Wendy hummed as she closed out her files, then shut down her office computer. Lisa grinned at her from the doorway. "You sure sound happy." "Scott's flight is due in late tonight." She'd missed the hell out of him. Phone sex brought its own relief, but it had also drawn them closer. She knew they'd crossed a line they hadn't planned to cross, but she wasn't going to worry about it now. They'd talk it out in person once he was back. "What time does he get in?" Wendy winked. "As soon as I can get his clothes off." Lisa laughed. "So you're finally going to admit it, aren't you?" "Admit that I'm looking forward to seeing my best friend again? Yes." "Still in denial I see." "I'll admit things are not the way I thought they'd be. But that doesn't mean I've changed my mind about having a full-time man in my life, so forget about it." "Let's get out of here. I'll buy you a glass of wine." Wendy started to protest, but she'd spent so little time lately with Lisa. She could spare the time for one drink. "You're buying?" Lisa shrugged. "Sure, as long as it's house wine. I don't make the big bucks yet." "You say that as if I do." She grabbed her jacket, fished her keys from its pocket, then locked the desk. "Okay, let's go." She and Lisa walked the one block from her building to Titan's, the trendy downtown pub. This early in the evening, the after-work professionals crowded the bar. Later the clientele would change to the noisy party-goers. Lisa grabbed a table as its occupants got up to leave. They slid onto wooden chairs on opposite sides of the small round table. "You know I don't begrudge you your promotion, Wendy," Lisa said. "But I really need a better job, too. I don't see any opportunities on the horizon." "You know if something comes up, I'd recommend you in a heartbeat. Not that my opinion's worth much. I'm still wet behind the ears, myself." "I appreciate that. Actually, I'm thinking of looking elsewhere." Wendy shrugged. "Can't blame you. Let me ask you something. Are you willing to relocate?" "Move? Leave Columbia?" "Move. Leave South Carolina. The home office is in Atlanta." "I'd consider Atlanta. Lots more opportunities there. More guys, too." "Willingness to relocate definitely expands your options. I'll nose around." Lisa rested her hand on hers. "Thanks."
Wendy hadn't realized how frustrated Lisa must feel, her own career stalling as Wendy's took off. It might've been too much for some friendships. "You know you're my closest friend, next to Scott." Lisa huffed an exasperated breath. "When are you going to admit to yourself that Scott is more than your friend? God, Wendy, you've moped around for three weeks while he's been gone. You've hummed like it's your birthday the day he's expected back." Wendy raised her palm to halt her recitation. "You want the truth? I'll give you the truth." The waitress waltzed over. "What can I get you?" Lisa glared at the poor girl for interrupting. "Two house wines. White." "It's happy hour. Two for one. Y'all want two each?" "Yeah, sure," Lisa said, and waved her away. "Yes. Truth." Wendy started to speak, but that strange and annoying knot had returned to her throat, making it difficult to swallow. Oh, damn. Hot tears filled her eyes. Lisa's face softened. "Uh oh." "Yeah, uh oh." She searched her handbag for a tissue, dabbing at her eyes before mascara ran black rivulets down her cheeks. "Oh, God, Lisa, what am I going to do?" "You tell him you're in love with him, that's what you do. Scott needs to know how you feel." "It's not that simple." The waitress returned with four glasses of some kind of white wine on a tray. She took her time arranging beverage napkins on the table, then one by one setting the stemmed glasses in the center of each one. Lisa paid her for the drinks, over-tipped her, and practically shooed the poor girl away. "He loves you." Wendy shook her head. "He's not over Heather. I'm just a good friend who also happens to be a good lay, helping him through a bad time." "Do you really believe that?" "I'm afraid I do." She took a sip of the wine. "He's been very honest and open about his feelings." "Has he, now." Lisa didn't phrase it as a question. She drummed her tri-color patriotic nails on the hard wooden table. "How many times has he mentioned Heather during the past three weeks when he's called you?" "Well, none that I remember, except the first night. He'd called her, the new guy answered." "Shit." "Yeah, shit. Scott doesn't deserve that kind of hurt." Lisa smiled. "You got it bad, girlfriend." Two wines later, Wendy stood. Dizziness besieged her and she flopped down on the chair. "I'm not sure I should drive yet." Lisa frowned. "You should've eaten something. You aren't pregnant are you?"
Wendy shook her head no. "I'm on the patch now." "Since when?" "Three weeks." "Oh, good. So you haven't had unprotected sex since you started the patch." It was Wendy's turn to frown. There'd been that one time, before Scott left, when they hadn't used a condom. "That's not entirely accurate." "Didn't the doctor tell you to use a back up method of contraception for the first month?" "If he did, I missed that." She shrugged. "I'm not pregnant, so don't try to scare me. I'm just a bit tipsy, is all." She ordered a sandwich and a diet cola, treated Lisa to an order of potato skins, chatted for a bit until her head cleared, then headed home. After letting herself into her apartment and kicking off her pumps, she collapsed on one of the loveseats and groaned. Just as Lisa said, she'd been in denial too long. There was no escaping the truth. She'd fallen in love with Scott, to no avail. He still thought of her as his best friend. She fervently hoped Monday she got her period. **** The time difference and check-point delays at the airport put Scott into the Columbia airport after midnight. Fatigued and edgy, he grabbed his luggage, claimed his car, then headed home. Where he really wanted to go was to Wendy's apartment. But they'd agreed to wait until Saturday. She'd warned him he'd need his rest for a weekend marathon of hot sex. He could hardly wait. The drive took only a few minutes because of the late hour and light traffic. He pulled onto his street, dark except for the streetlamps. He pulled into his driveway, slammed on his breaks, and cursed. He'd nearly collided with Heather's car. Why had she left it parked in his driveway? Cursing again, he got out, grabbed his bags, then headed up the sidewalk. He'd left lights on timers, so it came as no surprise that a lone light shone from the living room. But Heather sat on his sofa, and it caught him off-guard. Her platinum hair perfectly styled, her makeup flawless, she uncrossed her slender legs. As beautiful as ever, she gave him a tentative smile. "What the hell are you doing here?" "You must be tired." "I'm exhausted." Whatever her game, he wouldn't make it easy for her. "I waited for you, not sure when you'd get home--" "Why?" "We need to talk."
He dropped the bags on the parquet floor. "Can't it wait until tomorrow?" She got up from the sofa, lithe and graceful as a cat, and crept into the darkened foyer. Dressed to kill in a scarlet slip of a dress and matching high heels, she locked gazes with him. Crowding against him, she slipped her arms around his neck. She smelled of gardenias and peppermint, just as she always had. "I need to apologize, Scott." His body reacted instantly, but his brain proceeded with caution. He didn't offer to return her embrace. "Apologize for what?" "For what I said to you. For blaming you for our problems when it was my fault." "Your fault?" Aliens had abducted Heather, replacing her with this convincing look-alike. "Just tell me what this is all about." She pouted. "I'm trying to say, I regret my hasty decision to file for divorce. I think we should try again to work things out between us. Save our marriage." "Save the marriage." Wasn't this exactly what he'd wanted? Yes! He had another shot at keeping Wendy. No, not Wendy. Heather. He couldn't wait to call Wendy and tell her the good news. And would he ever dazzle Heather with the great moves he'd learned. But he wanted Wendy, not Heather. Wendy, his best friend, the woman he trusted. When the hell had that happened? But he wasn't supposed to want Wendy. He was in love with his wife, the woman standing close to him, gazing at him with repentant eyes. Licking her hot pink lips in invitation, waiting to reclaim her place in his bed. Not so fast... "What about your new guy?" "He just didn't measure up to you, Scott." "Look, I need to talk to you when I'm rested. Right now, I'm going to bed." She grinned. "Great idea." "Alone. We have a lot of things to discuss if we're going to make this marriage work, not the least of which is trust. I'm not going to confuse things more by sleeping with you yet." He was confused enough already. And he wasn't going to have unprotected sex with her, knowing she'd been sleeping around. "So where can I sleep?" He gestured toward the sofa. "Be my guest. Just please stay out of the bedroom." "For now," she said, with an enigmatic grin. But he didn't have the energy to figure it out. Tomorrow he'd talk to Wendy about it. Wendy would put things in perspective for him. She'd help him through this, just as she always had. CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN Don't try to second-guess the one you love.
Saturday morning, Wendy awakened to her coffee maker. She'd set the timer for seven, thinking Scott would want coffee before their run. Knowing he had a late flight, she didn't expect him for at least an hour. After a restless night, she'd finally decided that the wine and Lisa had distorted her view of her relationship with Scott. Sure, she'd fallen in love with him, but why did he need to know? She disagreed with Lisa on that point. If he ever got over Heather, and didn't find any other prospects when ready to move on with his life, then Wendy would confide in him her real feelings. If she didn't, no loss. She'd already vowed to live without a man underfoot. Since no man could ever measure up to Scott, she'd have no problem keeping her vow. They'd both agreed to let nothing jeopardize their special friendship. She wouldn't start now with foolish confessions. By eight o'clock and her second cup of coffee, Wendy decided Scott needed a wake-up call. The later they waited to run, the hotter the temperature. Besides, she needed to confirm, for her own peace of mind, that Scott had arrived home safely. She dialed his number. It was immediately answered by a woman's voice. For a second, Wendy thought she'd misdialed. Then recognition sank in. Heather. Cold, icy dread curled down her stomach. "Is Scott there?" "He got in really late, Wendy. I'm letting him sleep in today." She spoke matter-of-factly, as if nothing had changed. As if they were still married. Wendy schooled her voice to sound light and casual, although she was anything but. "Okay. No big deal. I thought we'd go for a run, is all." "I'll tell him you called. But I don't think he's going running today. We have a lot to discuss." "Hey, that's your business. You don't have to explain." "You're Scott's best friend. He won't mind me telling you. We're trying to work things out between us, patch up the marriage." A huge lead weight slid down her throat and struck her in the stomach. Her body shook. Taking a deep breath did little to calm her. She had to get off the phone. Now, before she threw up. "That-that's great, Heather. I wish you both the best. Good luck." "Thanks." Wendy's hand trembled as she replaced it on the cradle. Her heart pounded so hard against her stomach, she feared she'd go into cardiac arrest. Helpless, she stared at the telephone, unable to blink, to soothe her burning eyes. How could a human being suffer both terrible pain and numbness at the same time? **** Scott hesitated at Wendy's door. He needed to see her. He should've been here this morning, but had overslept. He must have been wiped out to have managed to sleep at all. Should he use the key? Should he give it back?
She was his best friend. She'd given him the key, he'd use it. Heather had told him Wendy had called. He and Heather had much to talk about. Later. Now he needed to see Wendy. He let himself inside. "Wendy?" "What is it, Scott?" He followed her voice to the guest room, where she sat at her computer. "Heather's back." "I know." She sighed, turned away from the computer, then got up from her chair. "So how are you feeling about that? It's what you wanted." "I know." He met her gaze and froze. Red-rimmed eyes contrasted sharply with her pale skin. "You've been crying." "PMS." "PMS makes you cry?" "It makes women emotional. If it's the wrong time of the month, I'm likely to cry at beer commercials. Any little thing can set me off." She led him toward the kitchen. "So what little thing set you off?" "Lisa and I drank a little too much wine last night. That's all." She shrugged but didn't meet his gaze. "Iced tea?" "Yeah, thanks." He slid on a barstool, not entirely convinced by her too-much-wine story. "I just came over to talk to you about Heather and to give you back your key." "Yeah, I'll be needing the key." He'd not seen Wendy this down since ... since Ron Williams dumped her right before senior prom. He wished he understood her mood. Right now, he struggled to understand his own. "Damnation, Wendy, we're best friends. I won't leave until you tell me what's really wrong." "I'm sad, all right? I'm thrilled that you're getting what you want, that Heather's come to her senses. I hope everything works out. But I'm depressed because I'm going to miss us." "I guess I feel the same. I know we can't go on being together as we have been. I'll miss that. But I'm angry that I feel guilty, like I've been unfaithful to Heather, instead of the other way around." "You have nothing to feel guilty over. My God, you did it all to win her back. Remember that. She walked out on you." She slam-dunked ice cubes into two tumblers. "You're good for my ego, Wendy Powers. I'm glad we're friends." "We need to cool the friends stuff, too, Scott." He blinked, as if she'd slapped him. "What?" She jerked open the refrigerator door. "I warned you that sex might change our friendship. It has. I can't be with you now." He watched the condensation drip down the pitcher of tea as she filled the tumblers. He shivered from a
sudden chill. "Changed it? How?" "I feel intimacy with you that is inappropriate toward a married man." She handed him a glass of ice tea, then joined him at the breakfast counter. "You're right. If I'm to mend my marriage, I have to give it my best shot. I can't be thinking about our so-called lessons. That's not fair to Heather." He'd made up his mind during the drive over to Wendy's that he had to be sure he'd given the marriage a chance before bailing out. He couldn't afford to let lust cloud his judgment. And lust and friendship is all he had with Wendy. He loved Heather. He just had to keep reminding himself. "Exactly. But I'm here if you need me, Scott. As a friend, though, nothing more." "I get that. Tell me something." "What?" "Did that article you read say anything about the stages of getting over something like this?" "The word you're avoiding is affair. We had a plain and simple fling while you were separated from your wife. Don't glamorize it. I won't." "Glamorize it?" Her voice had a cynical edge he'd not heard her use, at odds with the misery in her eyes. She was bluffing. "I won't trivialize it, either, Wendy." "Trivialize it?" "I've never had sex like that in my life. I doubt I ever will again, and that scares the shit out of me." She laughed without humor. "Yes, you ruined me for anyone else, too." She meant it. This time he didn't doubt her. She wasn't just boosting his ego. "I don't know what to say." "Hey, we had a great time. It was fun while it lasted. Now it's time for you to pursue your dream and grab your chance at happiness, Scott. I wish you well." "That sounds like a farewell speech." A rehearsed farewell speech. Hadn't he assured her he'd never hurt her? Damn. What had he done? He'd used his best friend, and now was losing her. He fought the impulse to wrap his arms around her, kiss her temple or cheek, and comfort her as he would have a month ago. As hard as they'd both tried, they'd destroyed their easy-going friendship. Wendy was right. Sex had changed everything. What a mess. Scott didn't offer to hug her goodbye, or give her a farewell kiss, much as he wanted to. Her body language didn't invite his touch. So he thanked her for the tea and made his exit, heading for home. The possibility that losing Wendy as his best friend would cost him more than losing Heather as his wife terrified him. What had he done? ****
Monday morning, Wendy pulled herself together enough for work. After her wretched weekend, she'd reached a career decision. She was going to ask for a transfer to the Atlanta office and recommend Lisa to replace her. She could no longer live in the same city as Scott and Heather. Moving would save her from making excuses for avoiding them. It would also distance her from the painful memories. Her next apartment sure wouldn't have a friggin' breakfast bar. CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT There's no substitute for honesty. For the next week, Scott avoided sex with Heather. She did her best to tempt him, but he kept his distance. Memories of her criticism lingered. Had she really been disappointed in their sex life? Would she be now? He wasn't sure what gave him the fortitude to resist her, but he was determined. He had to be sure there was substance upon which to re-build a lasting marriage before he muddied the waters with making love. He also had to be sure he had his feelings in perspective about Wendy. God knows, he missed her. Heather agreed to marriage counseling. In fact, she agreed to every condition Scott put forth. She'd never been so agreeable throughout their entire time together. He admitted to the counselor at their first session to having unresolved anger. He admitted suspecting Heather's motives. He didn't admit that he'd found solace in the arms--and bed--of another woman. His time with Wendy was special, something he guarded close to his heart. As a husband, he'd never betray Heather, but he couldn't undo history, either. He needed time, a period of adjustment. Just as Heather had given him a month to get used to living without her, she needed to allow him time to adjust to having her back. Maybe in another month he'd purge his senses of Wendy's scent, her taste. The sounds of her laughter and her moans and groans when they made love. Or maybe he'd need a lifetime. Friday, after their second counseling session, they sat together at the kitchen table and sorted through mail. Heather asked, "Are you ever going to forgive me, Scott?" "Forgive you for what?" He wasn't sure if she meant her criticism of his sexual performance, her act of leaving, or her affair. "For hurting you. How long am I going to have to pay?" Her words stopped him cold. His head snapped up from the pile of junk catalogs. "You think I'm punishing you? Is that what you think?" She shrugged. "I just can't figure you out. You were devastated the day I left. Stunned. Don't you remember begging me to give us more time? " Yeah, he'd begged. He'd made a fool of himself. "Your decision seemed sudden. Of course, you didn't level with me about finding someone else." "No, I thought that would be too hurtful. But now that I've come back, willing to give us more time, you seem different. I'm beginning to think you don't love me, Scott." I'm beginning to think I don't, too. God, where had that thought come from? He held her gaze from
across the table. "Look me in the eye and tell me you love me." "Don't be silly. Of course I do." She averted her eyes. "Heather, you can't turn love on and off like a faucet. What's happened to give you second thoughts? What's changed since the night you left?" "I told you. I realized I'd made a mistake." "What happened to the guy you left me for? Come on. You filed for divorce, talked property settlement. I have a right to know why the about-face." Heather began to cry. "You're determined to make this difficult for me. You want me to grovel..." "No, I don't. I want you to be honest." Of course, he had to be honest, too. Why couldn't he talk about the most intimate aspects of his life as easily with his wife as he could with Wendy? But Heather had drawn first blood. He deserved the truth from her before he tackled his own doubts. "I haven't lied to you." But she hid something, he'd bet his mortgage. "If we plan a future together, we have to deal with this. Otherwise, I'll be living everyday on the edge, just wondering when you're going to decide to cut a trail again." Funny how she'd avoided an answer to his question. Funny how detached he felt, emotionally. The calmer he talked, the more petulant Heather grew. There'd been a definite shift in their relationship. "You-you don't trust me." A single tear leaked from her eye. Her distress would have moved him another time. Now it seemed manipulative. "I can't trust you, don't you see? I can't help but feel that you'll be out the door again as soon as you get a better offer. You've given me no reason to believe you're home to stay." "I'm giving you the second chance you pleaded for." "All I'm asking is, why?" Her pitiful weeping turned into tears of rage. "Don't expect me to live under your thumb until you decide you can forgive me and trust me. Who do you think you are?" "I think I'm a man who's tired of living on probation." Her eyes narrowed. "What are you saying?" "I'm saying, don't withdraw your petition for divorce." Wendy exploded. "You bastard! I don't need you. Just because Justin..." "Justin?" The guy she'd left him for? Scott waited for rage to consume him, or at least a twinge of jealousy. But no emotion filled him. "Justin dumped you, so you crawl back to good ol' dependable Scott, right?" "I don't need Justin and I don't need you." She stormed from the room. With sudden clarity, Scott understood the change. He'd outgrown Heather. Their month apart had changed him, but not her. Beautiful, popular Heather, whom he'd idolized since the eleventh grade, no
longer held his heart captive. **** "Come to Titan's with me tonight, Wendy," Lisa said. "It's Friday." With a heavy sigh, Wendy looked up from her keyboard. "I can't." If Scott and Heather waltzed into the place, the cozy re-united couple, Wendy would puke on the spot. "I wish there was something I could do. I've never seen you like this." "Oh, I'll live." "You never told him, did you?" She didn't need to ask whom she hadn't told what. "I hardly had the chance." "Girlfriend, you violated your own work ethic." "Huh?" Lisa's conversations weren't always easy to follow. "You sent him on an assignment without benefit of all pertinent information." "Oh, puh-leeze! You can't compare..." "Okay, okay. I promise I won't bring up you-know-who again. Just go out and have a little fun. It'd do you good." "Tell you what. I'm driving over to Myrtle Beach tomorrow to spend the weekend with my folks." She'd only visited her parents a couple of times since they'd retired and moved away. "Ride with me. We can get in some beach time, cruise the strip. What d'ya say?" Lisa broke into a wide smile. "I say that's exactly what you need. Me, too." **** During the Saturday morning drive, Wendy confided her plans to Lisa. "There's an opening in Atlanta. I've agreed to take it and recommended you for my job. Don't get your hopes up, as I don't know how much weight my opinion carries." "I won't let on that I know." "Actually, I was told this afternoon to broach the subject with you Monday. I'm just jumping the gun. So, you're definitely one of the candidates for my job." "I'll miss you when you move. Let me throw a big going away..." "No time. They asked if I could be there at the first of the month. My lease is up. The timing is perfect." "First of the month? Why, that's next week, girlfriend. I didn't know it'd be so sudden." "Neither did they. The opening came up unexpectedly, although I'm not sure of the details. The packers are going to start on my things Wednesday night. It'll all go in storage until I find a place to live." Lisa seemed to be letting it all sink in. "This is crazy, Wendy. You know you're just running away." "Yes, but I love Atlanta. It'll be a fresh start for me. And you can come up over the weekend sometimes, all right?"
"You bet!" "Really, I should've gone apartment hunting this weekend, but I needed to tell Mom and Dad." "Can I go apartment hunting with you?" "We'll see." **** Scott and Heather showed the real estate agent to the door Monday evening. "I'll be in touch," she said. Heather sighed. "Well, that's that." She'd been surprisingly civil since her outburst Friday afternoon. They'd gone to counseling earlier in the day and had agreed to attend divorce therapy sessions. Their counselor, a retired Presbyterian minister with a PhD in psychology, had led them through some revealing exercises. "What are you going to do now?" Scott asked. "I'm going to Mom and Dad's for a few days. They don't think I should keep sleeping here." "I can leave if you'd prefer to stay." She led him into the kitchen, where she dug out a diet soda from the fridge. She didn't offer him one. "I never much liked this house. You know that." "So why did you agree to buy it? I've often wondered that." "I think you'll find out when it sells. Daddy said it's a great investment in this neighborhood. I figured we'd keep it a year, double our equity, then buy a really big, nice house I could be proud of." Meaning, she wasn't proud of this one. So many traits he'd been blind to before, he now recognized. Shallow, selfish, spoiled Heather. It'd taken getting to know Wendy--really getting to know Wendy--to show him how wrong Heather was for him. He wanted so much to talk to Wendy, to tell him how much she'd helped him. But he wouldn't call until the divorce was final. He didn't want to do anything else to make her uncomfortable. He couldn't think beyond that. First, he had to deal with losing Heather. Not Heather, the shallow wife who'd betrayed him, but Heather, the image he'd created, back when he was a high schooler. Then he could tell Wendy how he'd worked through all the phases. And maybe, just maybe, she'd believe him when he told her he'd fallen in love with her. CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE Passion + Friendship = Love What the hell was going on? Staring at the cordless phone, Scott picked a path around the boxes, where Heather had packed everything she'd wanted to take to her new place--a place he now knew included a new guy. Heather had shed few tears and wasted little time in moving on. Scott accepted Heather as she was, held no grudge, and wished her the best. He'd made it through all the phases. Eager to share it all with Wendy, he redialed her number, a number he'd called many times over the years. Again, he listened to a disconnect recording. Had Wendy changed her number? It'd only been a
month since he'd given her back his key. Surely she hadn't up and moved. Fighting back the panic that squeezed his heart, he fled the house. It took half an hour through the crowded college campus to reach her apartment. With fall came the return of the students and the resulting traffic. Finally, he pulled into the apartment complex. He scanned the parking lot for her car, but it wasn't there. No one answered her doorbell. A quick peek through the gap in the window's vertical blinds confirmed his worst fears. The apartment was vacant. How could Wendy up and move and not let him know? Hadn't she said she'd be there for him? She was his best friend, damn her hide! His anger quickly faded, replaced by fear. The last time he'd seen Wendy, she'd not been herself. She'd been upset, edgy, and cynical. He'd never seen her like that, despite her claims of PMS. The possibility that he'd underestimated her feelings toward him niggled at the back of his mind. She'd been hurt, he knew, but had he also underestimated the depth of her pain? Don't panic, pal. Think. He had her work number stored in his cell phone. But she wouldn't be at work on a Saturday. He couldn't wait until Monday to find out where she'd gone. "Well, well, if it isn't Scott Drysdale." He spun from the window to face a platinum blonde with a bizarre fashion sense. Her short, spiked hair showed off her multi-pierced earlobes. Her clothes were, well, OSHA green chic. He peered at her more closely, and recognition penetrated his befuddled mind. "Yes, Lisa. I'm looking for Wendy." "Moved to Atlanta." His stomach sank to his ankles. Atlanta? "When?" "Oh, a couple of weeks ago. The company transferred her." All his blood drained from his head. She'd left him without a word. What did it mean? Did she care so little for him? Or too much? "Hey! Are you okay, bud?" "Fine." He took a couple of deep breaths. "I, ah, don't suppose you'd be willing to give me a number or an address..." "She wouldn't want me to." A mischievous glint encouraged him to press on. "I'm a good friend of hers--" "Oh, I know how good a friend you've been." There was censure in her voice. She crossed her arms and glared. "I don't think Wendy wants to be found." "You make it sound as if she's hiding." She shrugged. "That's my theory, but she says she isn't." He felt like he was swimming against the current. "It's important that I talk to her. Please, Lisa."
Her gaze hardened. "I don't think so." He shook his head. "Why the hostility? I don't get it." "That's right, Bozo. You just don't get it. And I'm not going to draw you a picture, so beat it." With that, she marched past him to the end of the row of apartments, then inserted a key in the last one. He ran after her. "Wait!" What the hell was wrong? And what didn't he "get?" **** Sunday morning, Wendy allowed herself to sleep in, even though she longed to go for a run. She'd found a good place for jogging in nearby Stone Mountain Park, a five mile loop around the granite monolith. But exhaustion from unpacking yesterday had claimed her. At last, her new apartment felt like home. Today she promised herself a day of pampering. Hard as she worked at her new job and hard as she ran around Stone Mountain, she couldn't escape the aching loneliness that plagued her since Scott and Heather reconciled. She had only herself to blame. She'd set herself up, against her better judgment. How naïve she'd been to believe she could keep her emotions out of a sexual affair. The plan had backfired ... in spades. Oh, God, that phrase hurt. It brought back memories of conversations with Scott. But everything did. She had it bad. But she also had it good. The contraceptive patch had not only eliminated her disabling monthly cramps, but had also protected her from getting pregnant from that one foolish time she and Scott had not used a condom. She enjoyed working at the home office of the textile company so much more than the regional office in Columbia. The pay was better, and she'd had her pick of apartments. She and Lisa had run themselves all over town the past two weekends, looking for a new place, checking out the malls, and sampling some of the area's great restaurants. Atlanta was full of great shopping, festivals, and sports events. And the weather seemed milder than Columbia, too. Already there was a fall crispness in the air. If only she could shake the loneliness that plagued her. If only she could forget Scott. She towel dried after her bubble bath, recalling the times when she would grab her sex toys and indulge in a bit of auto-eroticism. It held no appeal for her now. The times she masturbated resurrected more painful memories, like the night she and Scott had engaged in phone sex. Eventually she'd lose herself in her new life here and the heartbreak would fade. She just hoped at least one of them was happy. Had he and Heather worked out their problems? Did Heather appreciate what a wonderful man she had? The doorbell rang. Who could that be? She hardly knew anyone in Atlanta, or in her neighborhood. She wrapped herself in her terry cloth robe and slid into her slippers. A minute later, she peered through the peephole and her heart stopped. Scott.
And he was alone. And he looked wonderful. CHAPTER THIRTY Never take each other for granted. Wendy opened the door and invited him in, struggling to hide her swirl of emotions. "What a surprise." He scowled at her. "What kind of a friend runs out on her best friend without telling him?" She shrugged, her body suddenly wracked with tremors beneath the thick robe. "We both know there's no place in your life for me, Scott." "That's where you're wrong." He ran his hand through his short-cropped sandy hair. "Can we sit down? I've had a long drive." "Sure." She led him to her loveseats, careful to sit on the one opposite him. She needed to keep her distance, although her body instantly reacted to seeing him again. She tucked her feet under her and wrapped her robe around them. "So how did you find me?" "It wasn't easy. First, I had to make an ally out of your friend Lisa." "And how did you do that?" "I told her I had to find you. I don't like my life without you in it." Her breath caught in her throat. Dare she hope? Was there more there than friendship? "What about Heather?" "Heather and I aren't in love. We both conceded that and went our separate ways. She's already moved in with her latest." "And you're all right with that?" "I'm way past all the stages, Wendy. I found out that what I had with you was ten times better than what I'd ever had with Heather. With her, there was little passion, and not a lot of friendship. I was in love with a teen idol of her I'd created, who didn't even exist. She was in love with an image, too, one which you helped create." "I see." She fought to control the nervousness that shook her. "We've sold the house and are splitting the money." "Oh, Scott, you loved that house." He shrugged. "It's just a house. I need the money, anyway, for my business." "Huh? What business?" "I just made up my mind on the drive here. I think I'm ready to start my own software company. But it needs to be in a larger city, say, Atlanta." "Just like that? Without a plan?" He smiled, and once again her heart stopped beating. "I'm playing it by ear."
Her pulse picked up its frantic rate. Was he saying what she hoped he'd say? "And where will you live?" "I'm not sure. Any ideas?" "You're welcome to stay here until you--" "No. If I move in here, it's permanent. I know you say you don't want a man in your life, but I'm hoping to change your mind." Before he got the words out, Wendy hurried from her loveseat to his. She wrapped her arms around his neck. "I'm only going to say this once, Scott, so listen closely. I don't want a man in my life ... unless it's you. I'm in love with you." His arms encircling her, he pulled her onto his lap. "I'm in love with you, too. I knew it the day I brought back your key, but I was so mixed up." "You did the right thing, though. You needed to be sure of your feelings. And I should've told you about leaving." "No, you handled everything right, as you always have, giving me the space I needed to work things through." He slid his hands inside her robe, against her trembling flesh and broke into a wide grin. "You're naked inside this robe." "You caught me getting out of the tub." "Do you know how often I've fantasized about getting you naked?" He touched his lips to the sensitive flesh below her neck. Oh, my! Moisture pooled between her legs. "About as often as I've fantasized about you." He dragged her mouth down to his, fitting his lips to hers. Several long, deep kisses later, he said, "God, I've missed you so much." "Me, too," she said, before claiming his lips for another mind-drugging kiss. He tasted wonderfully familiar, perfect, and right. And she couldn't wait to jump his sexy bones. As she scooted herself over his lap, she ground her pelvis against his very aroused penis. "Something's definitely up." His hands drifted north from her waist and kneaded her breasts. "Oh, yeah. I think we need to get this thing straight between us." "It's probably going to be an all-day meeting." She shrugged out of her robe and straddled him, then reached for the snap on his jeans. "Many, many discussions." "All day, but we may have to start with a quickie." He kissed her again and again, like a man starved for her lips. "Hmm. Quickies are unfairly discounted." "Christ, it's been too long, Wendy," he said, shucking his jeans, then his shirt. "How long?" She asked the question casually, but braced herself for the answer. She had to know if they'd be needing the condoms. After all, who knew about Heather and her lovers. "Since our last quickie. Months. Seems like years--"
"You mean, you and Heather..." "I couldn't. I don't mean I couldn't perform, but ... but..." Tears filled her eyes. "Oh, Scott, you really do love me!" "I think I've loved you far longer than I realized." She kissed him again. And again. "It wasn't just sex for me, either. I was in denial." "When Heather came on to me, all I thought about was making love to you. You were a hard act to follow, Wendy. Heather never stood a chance." Another time she would've made a quip about a hard act. Emotion overcame her sense of humor. She buried her face against Scott's neck and lost her struggle against the tears. "Oh, God, I must be the luckiest woman in the world." "Hey, don't cry," Scott murmured, kissing away her tears. "I have a feeling we're both going to get lucky ... real soon." Then he lifted her up over his erection while she guided him inside her slick opening. She nearly dripped all over him, she was so wet. She loved the feel of his flesh, the friction as his cock moved inside her. "Oh, yes. Lucky." "You're so ready for me." "Oh, yes. Very ready." Their lips locked as their bodies rocked. Scott's thumbs found her nipples, massaging them into stiffened peaks. Just his touch at the sensitive tips of her breasts nearly made her come. Scott arched his back and called her name, his hardened flesh inside her thickening, just before he came. Her own orgasm followed, a staggering vaginal convulsion that left her weakened and dizzy. And oh, so satisfied. **** Two years later Scott and Wendy surveyed the gymnasium. They'd made the trip from Atlanta for their ten-year high school reunion, partly to see the old gang and partly to show off. They wondered how many classmates would be taken aback to see the two together. And he couldn't help being curious about Heather. Would she show up? Would she be remarried? "She'll be here," Wendy said, as if reading his mind. But he heard no jealousy in her tone. She was just Wendy, his confidant, his lover. His wife. Happiness filled him as it always did when he gazed at her. "I'm just curious about her." "I know. Me, too." Wendy smiled, the lights of the gym reflected in her blue eyes like dancing dots. "I hope she's gained a bunch of weight and looks frumpy." He laughed at that. "I don't care what she looks like. I'm with the belle of the ball."
"Why, thank you, Mister Millionaire." She curtseyed, rewarding him with a generous view of cleavage from her low-cut gown. Sapphire blue fabric brought out the blue of her eyes and hugged her curves to her advantage. Her hair, longer now, was swept up in a twist that showed off the elegant lines of her neck and jaw. And the new diamond and sapphire earrings and necklace he'd given her for their anniversary. She loved to tease him about his success. Who would've thought that playing around with computer games would make him a small fortune? Now he and Wendy were having their dream home built outside of Atlanta, near Lake Lanier. Thankfully, he'd taken a risk by going out on his own and it'd paid off. "I wouldn't be a millionaire if it hadn't been for you. You're my Rock of Gibraltar." "You're a genius. I had nothing to do with your success." "You believed in me. Encouraged me. Financially supported me the first year." "Have you notice how none of our old friends seem surprised that we're married?" "Rudy Parker even told me he figured we'd end up together. He said everyone else thought so, too." "I guess we weren't ready yet. Or we just took our friendship for granted." "I never want to take you for granted, Wendy. You're the best thing that ever happened to me in my life." "Starting your own business turned out to be the second best thing. I'm just so proud of you, Scott." "Of course, now Rainbow and Zack are disgusted with the two of us. We're just too establishment now." Wendy laughed. "Hardly. I'm having some rather old-fashioned thoughts these days." He slid his arm around her shoulder, pulling her close. "Oh, really? Whisper in my ear, sweetheart." Her breath warm and minty, she whispered, "Now that we don't need my salary, I'm thinking about changing my image." "How so?" He couldn't imagine Wendy as anything but a self-assured business woman, although he'd love to have her at home more. "Would you still love me barefoot and pregnant?" His mouth dropped. Joy filled him. He'd always wanted a family. But he'd never pressured her about it. "You mean you're..." "No, silly. I'd never make that decision alone. That's why I'm talking about it with you. How do you feel about starting our family?" He grinned as if he were already a new father. "Hot damn! Let's peel off that patch and get started now." She swallowed. "Now?" God, he'd never get enough of her. Already he grew hard. "Yeah, now. But where?" "The Jeep," she said, grabbing his hand. "No one will miss us." His new Grand Cherokee had extra dark window tint, thank God. And the back seat was already
lowered. He followed her to the parking lot, ignoring the curious glances of their fellow alumni. He'd visit with them later. In the back of his SUV, Scott and Wendy made love during most of the class reunion. Scott never did see Heather. In fact, he never thought about her again. About The Author Vanessa Hart, known as "Nessie" to her writing buddies, writes romance and suspense novels under a different name. She is an imaginative, drop-dead gorgeous, curvy young red-head. Well, she's imaginative, anyway. Vanessa's Website: http://www.vanessahart.com Email Vanessa:
[email protected] We invite you to visit Liquid Silver Books http://www.liquidsilverbooks.com for other exciting literary erotica romances. Waiting For You - Glenda Diana Weekend Games - Chris Tanglen Destiny's Magick - Rae Morgan More Than A Night - Jasmine Haynes Portal - Sydney Morgann Bittersweet - Louisa Trent Business or Pleasure or Both? - Rae Morgan and Jasmine Haynes
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