Exposure

* * *

I got a new job a few weeks later, working on the enquiry desk at the city tourist office, dealing all day with people needing help and information, looking for timetables and accommodation and directions. I loved it. I was the calm at the heart of the storm.

But for the rest of that term before I left the library, every Friday, I went up to the fifth floor and gave the university hockey team a private show. On the very last day, I even let them take it in turns to kneel before my chair and lick my pussy. They seemed to like that. They stood around me in a circle as I came, over and over again, writhing on the leatherette and spasming with pleasure.

But I made almost no noise. After all, it’s a library. You have to keep quiet.

Missus

Sommer Marsden

He scared the shit out of her, popping up over her back fence that way. Gina clutched her chest for a minute and waited for her fluttery heart to settle.

‘Dear God,’ she said mostly to herself, but he heard. She knew he heard because he shot her an adorable crooked grin that could only be pulled off by youth.

‘Sorry, missus. Thought you saw me.’

‘No. I didn’t.’ She wheezed it more than said it and then tried her own smile on again. ‘So you’re my new neighbour?’

She was deliberately ignoring the way the slow lazily drawled missus had suddenly taken root deep in her belly. Causing her face to flush in a way that had nothing to do with the heat and humidity.

‘One of them. My parents bought the house. I’m just here until school starts. Junior year of college, here I come. Few more days, though. Rick.’ He stuck his hand out over her fence. Big hand, deeply tanned and firm and smooth. He was a kid, really. Of course he was firm and smooth.

‘Pardon?’

‘Rick. My name? It’s Rick.’

Oh my God. She was mental.

‘Hi, sorry. Sorry! I told you, you startled me right into stupidity.’

That was a lie. His beauty had stunned her into stupidity.

‘Gina. Gina Monroe. Nice to meet you, Rick.’

He tipped her a nod, grey-green eyes doing a subtle but noticeable sweep of her. ‘Missus,’ he said again.

She felt downright naked despite her black shorts and her grey tank top and her flip-flops. The baseball cap on her head seemed to weigh a ton and Gina became overtly aware of her top sticking to her sweaty skin. No bra. How hard were her nipples? Her mind was racing.

She shook her head. ‘Um. Where are you from?’

She could distract herself from the fact that a thick tempo had started in her blood and was now thrumming between her legs. Was this what heat stroke felt like?

Stuart had warned her not to garden in the middle of the afternoon. Early or late was his motto. Before ten or after dinner. Never at two, which was roughly what time it was.

She had heat stroke, that was the answer.

‘Alabama,’ he said, watching her slyly.

She almost said ‘What?’ because she’d already forgotten her question. But she caught herself and for that she was grateful. ‘I can hear it in your voice.’

He nodded. ‘And I can hear the city in yours.’

He was eyeing her lazily now. Gina was positive he knew what kind of chaos was going on inside of her and that he’d caused it. She didn’t often respond so viscerally to men – any men – but certainly not young men. She had nothing to say. Her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth and her brain had shut down.

So when his head turned and he said, in that sinful rich drawl of his, ‘Cable man’s here. Guess I have to go let him in,’ she nearly fainted from relief.

‘Nice meeting you,’ she managed.

‘You too, missus.’ Then he was gone.

Gina watched him recede like a mirage. Tall and lanky, leanly muscled and deeply tanned – this was a young man who spent a lot of time outside. Broad shoulders were hidden beneath a washed blue T-shirt that was probably soft as sin to touch. Gina imagined herself pressing her cheek to that fabric. Feeling the solid muscle beneath, smelling sun and young man and summer air on him.

‘I have heat stroke,’ she said to herself.

But it wasn’t heat stroke that drove her into the cool of the basement and into the small powder room. Stuart was somewhere in the house puttering around or watching golf. He’d never know.

She locked the door and pushed down her shorts and panties and ripped off her gardening gloves. As she planted her ass, aching from all the squatting while she weeded, on the navy-blue fuzzy toilet-seat cover, her fingers went instinctively to where she needed them. One attacking her swollen throbbing clit with a trembling touch, two more buried deep into her cunt. She narrowed in on her G-spot – so hot, so confused, so very needy she just wanted to get off.

Gina did not need finesse. She needed an orgasm. How long had it been, she wondered, but forgot to care as she hooked her fingers and banged that plump spot deep in her pussy into submission.

Her fingers delivered just the right amount of pressure while visions of a twenty-something young man ricocheted around inside her head. That soft T-shirt, those tanned hands, grey-green eyes and plump kissable lips. The short brown hair that fell just so over his brow and, Jesus God, that honeyed twang saying missus …

Gina came with a hoarse cry that she immediately stifled by biting her lips. Her back slapped the whitewashed wall and she continued to thrust slowly as her pussy flickered with aftershocks. She rolled a lazy fingertip over her clit and enjoyed the sudden and brisk sweetness of the moment. How long had it been since she’d done that?

A sharp knock made her jump.

‘Yes?’

It had to be Stuart, who else would it be? But it still startled her and for a moment her stunned brain supplied her with a porno-movie vision of the young stud standing on the other side of the door. Knocking. Wanting to come in and milk another sugary orgasm out of her … his way.

‘Are you OK?’

It was Stuart. Of course it is, you twit!

‘I’m fine. Just finishing up. Why?’

Her voice was high and watery and guilty as hell. But it had been so good. So unexpected and so … feral. Her hands were shaking and she washed them well to get rid of the earthy scent of her own sex.

‘I thought I heard you yell,’ he said to the door. When she pulled it open, he stepped back startled for a moment. ‘Are you sure you’re OK?’

‘I am. Why?’

‘You’re flushed is all.’ He put the back of his hand to her cheek as if to prove it.

Gina didn’t see it coming. She simply grabbed her unsuspecting husband by his ears and hauled him in for a kiss.

‘Gina, are you –?’