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If this was going to be my last moment on Earth, I was glad I was spending it in a place that had become my favorite spot, doing the thing I loved most. The spot: face down between the caramel-colored legs of Gabriela Alvarez. The act: giving her the best head she'd ever experienced in her life.

I'd been on my knees for half an hour, my hands squeezing the soft flesh of her thighs, holding them in place while I let my tongue work magic on the juicy area between them. In that time she'd managed to tear out a small chunk of my hair, crush my head and ears between her knees, and give me a splitting headache from the ear-piercing screams that escaped her lips. I was just thankful she kept her nails short, otherwise I was certain she would have drawn blood.

I took my mouth away only briefly, licking my lips, tasting the sweet residue of her sex. I brought my head up long enough to see her in a state of frenzy. Sweat particles had formed all over her bare stomach and arms. Her long black hair was spread wildly about her head. One hand clutched a pillow, fingers digging deep into the fabric. The bed sheets had fallen on the floor within a few minutes of the act.

'Why did you stop?' she asked, short of breath.

I grinned wickedly, loving the desperation I heard in her voice. Desperation that I had caused. I loved being in control.

'I thought you needed a break.'

Bullshit! I needed a break. My jaw was all kinds of sore; my tongue felt like it had been taking part in a heptathlon. It was as if I knew that this was going to be our last tryst, because for some reason I'd put in overtime, giving head like I was running out of time.

I reached up a hand and took one of her nipples between my fingers, making it hard in seconds, forcing a moan from her glistening pink lips.

'I don't need a break. Get back to work,' she half-moaned.

'Yes, Ma’am.' Maybe I wasn't in control after all.

I lowered my head, ready to unleash my tongue on her moist middle, to pick up where I'd left off, already missing the sweet taste of her excitement. And then the bedroom door flew open. I froze in place, in my guilty position, knowing that things were about to get ugly. No situation ever ended well after someone walked in on you having sex.

A flurry of angry Spanish words followed, in a booming voice that shook the paper-thin walls. That's when I decided it was best to remove my head from its current position – between the legs of the angry, blood-thirsty man's wife. That's right, his wife. The huge bear of a man stood in the doorway, eyes red with rage, while I knelt down in front of his wife.

Gabriela shrieked and sat up quickly, trying to cover her nakedness with the pillow, pushing it between her legs in an attempt to conceal her wetness.

Then he charged at me, shoving me to the floor with one hand. I went down easily. The bastard was at least three times my size and looked like he was hell-bent on crushing me, until Gabriela leaped from the bed and scrambled in front of him.

'Is this what you get up to when I'm not around? You turn into a fucking dyke when my back's turned?' Spit flew from his mouth. His eyes burned with rage.

'I'm sorry, it doesn't mean anything, papi. You gotta believe me.'

'She doesn't mean anything, ha?' He took a breath and stormed from the room.

'You gotta go, Heather.' Gabriela spun to face me, panicked. Both of her nipples were hard, and her wetness glistened on her dark mound of pubic hair. Even though I was on the verge of getting my ass kicked, my body still ached for her. It didn't matter how inappropriate the timing was.

'No shit,' I said, tugging on my faded denims. Thankfully I wasn't naked like her, and I had my sneakers on in no time.

'I think he's getting the gun.'

The blood drained from my face. 'He has a fucking gun, and you didn't tell me this before you opened your legs to me?'

'Hey, you knew I was married to a dealer. What did you expect?'

I didn't know what I expected, but all of a sudden those rock-hard brown nipples, and that sweet-tasting cunt didn't seem so desirable now. In fact, they seemed like a curse. Was this really the way I wanted to go out? I mean, she was a great lay, but was she enough to get my head shot off for?

The rapid speed with which I climbed out of the open window was answer enough. I didn't even say goodbye, didn't check to see if she would be all right with her maniac husband. I stepped out into a warm spring evening, and felt the eyes of the neighborhood children on me as I sprinted away down the lane, not looking back and not stopping to catch my breath.


'What's got you shaken up like that?' one of my room-mates, Claudia, asked the minute I fumbled through the door.

I clutched at my chest, afraid I was about to keel over and die from a heart attack, having run practically the whole twenty-five minutes to my apartment.

I snatched her soda can from her just as she was about to bring it to her lips, and gulped down its contents.

'I'll buy it back,' I said, seeing that she was on the verge of complaining about me taking her stuff again.

'That's two you owe me now.' She was always keeping score. 'Why are you so out of breath?'

'I just hot-tailed it from a murderous husband who was about to shoot my face off for screwing his wife.'

'So just another Friday for you?' She rolled her eyes. 'When will you ever learn your lesson? It's like you have a death wish.'

'Don't need the lecture right now, all right. I know it was dumb getting involved with another married woman, but anyone would make an exception for Gabriela.'

She rolled her eyes again, her double chin wobbling as she shook her head. 'No they wouldn't. Most people value their lives and wouldn't get involved with the wife of a drug dealer.'

When she turned her back to enter the kitchen, I stuck a finger up at her. She was such a know-it-all, a baby dyke who insisted that she'd been laid, but none of us bought it. She'd probably never even kissed a woman before.

'By the way, the landlord stopped by again. He wants to know when you're gonna pay your share of the rent,' she called from the kitchen.

Never, I wanted to shout back. I needed to get a job first, seeing as the old one laid me off. We were only half-way through the year and already it was shaping up to be the worst year of my life. No job, almost no money, and now my three-month hook-up – my go-to fuck – had come to a sudden and really inconvenient end. It sucked to be me.

Giving head always wore me out, so I hit the sack early, still in my day clothes.

It was pitch black outside when I woke up hours later to the sound of my cell buzzing on the floorboards. I stirred up from my bed – just an uncomfortable mattress on the floor, and a thin sheet to cover over years of grime and cum stains from the previous tenant. Two texts, both from Gabriela. The first mentioned that somehow her husband had discovered my address. She seemed to have sent it before she was ready, because the second message, a continuation of the first, said that he was on his way over.

'Shit!' I scrambled to my feet. For a few moments I paced back and forth in my box room, cursing loudly, tearing at my hair. 'The psycho's coming here to kill me. I gotta get out of here.'

The first thought was always to bolt. I hated confrontation, especially the type that could end with a bullet to the brain. Which was how half the disputes ended in this rough part of Lansing, Michigan. I'd only been living in the city for five months, and three people in our neighborhood had already lost their lives. I wasn't about to stick around to become the fourth.

I reached for my trusty black duffel that sat in the corner of the room, patiently waiting for our next adventure. I threw open the drawers of my chest and stuffed in as much clothing as I could before forcing the zip to close. Packing didn't take long, because I didn't have much I wanted to take.

'Where are you going?' one of my other house-mates questioned when I tiptoed out of the room. I didn't think anyone would be awake; it was almost eleven. She twisted away from the TV, eying my duffel with suspicion.

'Staying with family out of town. I'll be back by Sunday.'

She narrowed her eyes at me as though she knew I was lying. I didn't give her enough time to figure it out, to remember what I'd told her when I first moved in – that I didn't have any family, none that I knew about anyway. Growing up in the system kind of stripped me of that. I just gave her a small wave and rushed from the apartment, knowing that I wasn't coming back. Never allowing myself to get attached to anyone or anything made it easy to bolt.


I sat in the bus station departure lounge staring up at the departure board every couple of minutes. Time seemed to move slower than usual, as though moving backwards. I tapped my foot nervously, and bit my bottom lip until I tasted blood. 2AM departure – still another two hours to kill, and no music to occupy me. Just lots of tired chatter from the other patrons crammed in the small station.

I smiled at the elderly lady who took the seat next to me.

'Where are you headed, dear?' she asked in a friendly tone.

'New Jersey.'

'I've never been. Is it nice there?'

I shrugged. 'Neither have I. It can't be any worse than Michigan though, right?'

She laughed then unfolded her newspaper and began to read.

New Jersey was my first choice only for its connection, however weak. I had a sister there – one of the girls I grew up with in the foster home. We hadn't spoken in a couple of years, but whenever we had she always raved about how underrated the place was, and how hot the women were. She didn't sleep with chicks, but she'd spoken of her temptations. I was surprised it had taken being hunted down by a cuckolded husband to spur me to visit.

But no, I wasn't going there for the women. I was planning on turning over a new leaf, laying the old Heather Jennings to rest. A woman was the reason why I was fleeing the city at 2 in the morning.

'No more married women,' I mumbled.

'Did you say something, dear?' the elderly lady asked, looking up from her paper.

'No, nothing.' I pulled the hood of my sweater over my shoulder-length chestnut hair, and let my head roll back against the seat, hoping to get some sleep.


A heavy rain fell around me as I pressed the public phone to my ears. The howling wind made it even more difficult to hear the quiet speaker on the line.

'She was at this number a couple of years ago. Samantha... erm, I can't remember her surname... Yes, she is my sister – well, sort of. We grew up in the same foster home. Look, do you have a new address or number for her?'

I heard the “no” loud enough, and the dial tone that followed. I slammed the phone against the receiver in my rage, then left it hanging before I walked away, my clothes soaked through. I took shelter in a fast food burger place across the road, and fished out the loose change I'd stuffed in my bag. It was just enough to get a burger and fries, small. The large would have worked better; the last thing I'd eaten was... well... Mrs Alvarez, neither nutritious nor filling, though pretty tasty.

I sat by the window and ate my meal ravenously, thinking about how stupid I'd been coming to a foreign city with empty pockets. I had twenty bucks to my name now, after spending the bulk of my life savings on a one-way bus ticket. That was the kind of stupid shit I did. I should have at least called Samantha before I'd left Lansing.

Well, I was stuck in New Jersey now, whether I liked it or not, about to see how far twenty bucks could stretch. I watched people going home from work, walking briskly through the rain with big coats and umbrellas, on their way to warmth and home-cooked meals.

Then after I'd had enough of feeling sorry for myself, and having finished every morsel of my meal, I headed back out, following the signs to the nearest park. The rain had eased up considerably by the time I found my way there. I trudged along the path and claimed the first empty bench I came to. Darkness had already descended upon the park, giving it an ominous look.

The rain from the bench seeped into my pants and wet my butt when I sat down. I laid my head on my bag. I didn't have a plan, but I figured the discomfort would eventually lead me to concoct one. And after half an hour in the same spot, the rain still falling lazily on me, I still hadn't come up with one.

Just when I had decided to go on a hunt for the nearest homeless shelter, I spotted a woman hurrying up the path. Behind her, a couple of teenage boys followed. I couldn't hear what they were saying to her, but from the way she was ignoring them and speeding up, it was obvious their attention was unwanted.

I made sure my hair was tucked right away, hidden from view. Then I took my metal pen from my bag. As they approached I stood up.

'We're young, but that just means we got stamina,' one boy called after her, then laughed. 'You want some of this young cock. We're legal, don't worry.'

He hit his friend and they both laughed. The woman, so distressed and distracted, stepped right in a big puddle, soaking the legs of her jeans.

'Just leave me alone, all right.'

'We'll leave you alone after you blow us.'

'Didn't you hear what she said?' I stood tall, pushing my chest out, but not too much to show that I had breasts. I gave my voice a gruff male twang, and hoped I sounded convincing.

The lady stopped, and so too did the boys.

'Who the fuck are you? You should stay out of this, hobo.'

From the pocket of my sweater I let the tip of the metal pen show. 'I'm the one holding the knife. Don't make me have to use it. I'm in a really bad mood.'

The two boys looked at each other, contemplating whether or not to call my bluff. Then one of them spat in my direction, turned and they both walked off, shouting profanities back at me and the woman.

'Thanks. You didn't have to do that.' The woman turned to face me once the boys were gone. And when she did, under the street light, I finally realized why she had been the target of these boys. She was stunning. Even though her long blonde locks were damp and slightly flat from the rain, she wore the look well. She was no taller than me, standing about five-eight in heels, which probably put her at five-six. Her large green eyes looked at mine questioningly, as though she didn't understand why someone would have come to her rescue.

For a moment her beauty stunned me into silence. When I finally found my voice again, I said, 'I know, but they were being asses.'

She smiled. 'You're my hero.'

I let my hood down, and my hair spilled out. 'Heroine actually.'

Her face went from amusement to shock. 'I, I didn't know–'

'That I was a girl?' I smiled. 'That was the plan. Something tells me my threats wouldn't have worked as well if they knew.'

'Well the knife probably helped.'

I removed the pen from my pocket and held it up. 'It's just a pen.'

She leaned her head to one side. 'Nothing is what it seems, is it?' A little smile crept to her lips. Then as if realizing that she was staring at me, a complete stranger, she looked away. 'Thanks again.' She turned away awkwardly, waved and continued along the path.

I sat back down on my new bed-bench and watched her walk away, still stunned at seeing such a rare piece of beauty cross my path. And she seemed nice to boot. Was she representative of all New Jersey women? If so, I really had made the right choice coming here.

Suddenly she stopped. She spun around and headed back in my direction.

She's coming back, I screamed inside. Just act natural.

'It's probably none of my business, but you're not sleeping here are you?'

'I've slept in worse places.'

'You're not from around here I take it? Because around here, if the cops catch you sleeping on a park bench they lock you up for the night.'

'At least it would be dry.'

Her face fell. She gave me a hopeless look. 'You really don't have any place else to go?'

'My sister lives in the city... somewhere. I'll track her down in the morning. Don't worry about me.'

From the pitying look on her face I knew worrying about me was exactly what she was doing.

'I don't normally do this – no, I never do this – but it's raining. I have a spare room you can crash in for the night, if you want it.'

'That's real sweet of you, but I couldn't accept.'

'You just said you don't have anywhere else to go. I wouldn't feel right leaving you out here like this. And it's the least I can do after you saved me from those boys.'

She looked harmless enough; I was sure she wouldn't butcher me in my sleep. And what other choice did I have? The bench was becoming more and more uncomfortable with every passing minute.

'You're sure? Do you need to run it by anyone first?' That was my way of fishing to find out if there was anyone significant in the picture. Maybe she had an ulterior motive for inviting me back to her house. But I should have known that someone as gorgeous, softly spoken and pleasant as she was would have been taken.

'My husband won't mind, I'm sure.'

Great! Straight and married. Story of my life. Was her husband also a drug dealer? I couldn't deal with that crap again.

I grabbed my bag and stood up. 'Well all right. Thanks.'

She stretched out her hand. 'Andrea.' She smiled warmly.

I shook it. 'Heather.'


I'd never been inside a house that had its own electric gate and pool. It wasn't a house but a small mansion.

Family pictures adorned the mantelpiece and walls in the living-room – a family complete with Andrea, her husband and their two sons.

'They're at a slumber party for the night,' she said when she saw me looking at the photos.

'They're cute. How old?'

'Sean Jr. is nine. Benjamin, the one with the messy curls, is seven.'

They didn't look like her at all, but looked a lot like their father, a muscular, fair-haired guy who had the build of a defensive lineman. All the pictures pointed to them being the perfect family.

She showed me to the spare room and brought me something of hers to change into, because the rain had soaked through everything in my bag.

'You really don't have to do all of this.'

'I know.' She smiled a perfect smile. 'But we can't have you getting sick sleeping in your wet clothes.'

There was something about her persona, and the ease with which she spoke to me, that made it seem like we'd known each other for years. There was a warmth about her that I had never seen in anyone else. It was genuine, and she didn't want anything in return for her hospitality.

'People aren't ever this nice to me. You're like an anomaly.'

She left me again and said she would whip up something to eat while I changed. The burger and fries I'd had earlier were practically untraceable in my stomach now; I was famished.

Her clothes – a crumpled Tee and combat pants – fit perfectly, and smelled delicious and fresh, the way she smelled. Her aroma remained in the room long after she left it.

As soon as I realized I was thinking about her scent, I told myself to snap out of it. This was how it always began. The scent would hypnotize me, and before I knew it I would be face down eating some married woman out while her husband was at work!

'No more wives. Don't even flirt with this one. They're all trouble,' I warned myself. I repeated these words a couple of times before I went and joined her downstairs in the kitchen.


She was staring at me with immense curiosity and intrigue as I tucked into my meal.

'You'll give yourself indigestion if you don't slow down,' she said with a laugh.

'This is... divine.' My mouth was full as I spoke. 'What are you, like a chef or something?'

She blushed. 'Not exactly. Well, I plan to be. I'm going back to school in a couple of weeks to train. Part-time.'

'You're really good,' I insisted, and continued scoffing my face. I was so hungry I didn't care how awful I looked to her.

'You know, it's been a long time since someone complimented my cooking.' She looked sad when she said this. I didn't inquire as to why, because we were still strangers and it was none of my business. I wasn't going to pry into her life, but it soon became apparent that she wanted nothing more than to pry into mine. 'So what is it you do, Heather?'

'A little bit of this, a little bit of that.'


'I'm kinda between jobs right now. Did some part-time charity work working with underprivileged kids for awhile, until I realized that charity doesn't pay. Go figure. Then I got a couple of jobs in retail that didn't work out.' I shrugged. 'So yeah, a little bit of this and that. I know what you're thinking: at twenty-four I should know what I want to do with my life.'

'I wasn't thinking that at all,' she said sincerely. 'I was the same at your age. Heck, I'm still like that, and I'm ten years older.'

She combed her fingers through her long hair, and I quickly looked down at my food, swiftly becoming turned on. I was like putty in a woman's hands when she did that.

'You've got everything, though. Good-looking family, nice house... You did something right.'

She cleared her throat then mumbled something that I barely made out. I thought she said “looks can be deceiving,” but I wasn't sure. When she spoke again she said, 'Do you have a boyfriend? Fiance? Husband?' She laughed at the last bit.

'No,' I answered ardently. 'None of that.' I could have elaborated, explained that I would never have a boyfriend or husband because I was a raging homo, but that was none of her business. She was putting me up for the night; she wasn't entitled to the intimate details of my life.

'Count yourself lucky.' Although she laughed when she said it, there was something in her eyes that made me think she meant every word.


I woke the following morning to the sound of raised voices down the hallway. Well, one raised voice and a quiet, apologetic one. I crept to the door and pressed my ear against it to eavesdrop. The quiet voice belonged to Andrea – that sweet, soft tone was so unique to her.

'Your only job is to do the laundry, and you can't even get that right. I bust my ass every day only for you to fuck up my shirts.' This angry, aggressive voice belonged to a man – The Husband, obviously.

'I'm sorry, Sean. The washer's on the fritz again. You said you were going to replace it.'

'So this is my fault?' He raised his voice even louder. 'You wreck my shirts and somehow I'm to blame?'

'Honey, I didn't mean–'

'Get the hell out of my face!'

'I'm sorry,' Andrea pleaded in a shrill voice.

'Useless at the laundry and the housework, and useless at reproduction. It was divine intervention that made you barren; God forbid you pass on your genes to any unfortunate children!'

I covered my mouth, trying to hold back the shocked gasp that escaped it, afraid I would be heard. I couldn't believe my ears. Had he really just said such a disgusting thing to his wife?

'Did you make my sandwiches, or couldn't you manage that either?' he went on.

'I, I made them,' she answered in a small voice.

'So you're not completely worthless? Get my tie, would you? Working on Sundays should be outlawed. I don't know whether I'll be back today or not. Remember to pick up the boys.'

'Okay, honey. I have a friend staying here. I hope that's all right?'

He grunted. 'Whatever. As long as she stays out of my way, I don't care.'

A couple of minutes later I heard the front door slam shut and took that as my cue to leave my room. I crept up to Andrea's door and heard her sniffling inside. I tapped lightly on it.

'Andrea, are you okay?'

'I'm fine,' she answered quickly, and stopped sniffling. 'Just give me a minute and I'll make breakfast.'

'No, you don't have to make... I just wanted to see if you were all right.'

'I am.'

I didn't press further, only returned to my room.

'What a fucking prick!' I whispered to myself, finding myself slightly shaken up by what I'd heard. And I realized then why she had made those sly comments about her marriage and her husband. A happy marriage this was not.


She seemed fully recovered at breakfast, though quiet, not as talkative as she was the night before at dinner. I didn't really know what to say to her, not wanting to embarrass her by mentioning that I heard the argument. That explained why her sons didn't look like her; they were adopted. Yet, they looked a lot like her husband. I frowned in my confusion.

'I'm sorry you had to hear all of that before.' She didn't look at me when she spoke, only stared down at her coffee.

'I'm sorry you had to hear that too.' I said it before I could stop myself. I was so angry for her that I couldn't hold it in.

'He's just really stressed with work. He's in construction management. It's a stressful job.'

'Being a mother and raising children is probably just as stressful.'

She stared at me for a long moment before a sad smile found its way to her lips. 'I know what you're trying to do. It's not necessary, but... thank you anyway.'

Silence fell between us. And I eventually filled it.

'I'm gonna go hunt down my foster sister today, so I'll be out of your hair.'

'Do you even know where to start looking? Got a contact number for her?'

'Nope,' I said with a sigh. 'I got nothing.'

'New Jersey's a big place. It will be like looking for a needle in a haystack. And then what happens if you don't find her? Where will you go?' She seemed more concerned than I was.

'I'll think of something.'

'I know this probably isn't what you're looking for in terms of a career, but it might do as a temporary measure. When I go back to school I'll need someone to look after the kids; take them to school, pick them up, and stay with them for a couple of hours afterward. You said you used to work with kids, right? This way you get a roof over your head and some cash in your pocket.' She perked up as she spoke, like she was offering the opportunity of a lifetime.

I looked at her stunned. 'We've only just met. I could be anyone.'

She laughed. 'Well you didn't attack me while I was sleeping, so I think we're safe.'

'You know that you repaid me two-fold already by letting me crash here, don't you?'

'This isn't about gratitude,' she insisted. 'I was going to hire someone anyway. You'd be doing me a favor.'

Every part of me wanted desperately to do her a favor, and I didn't know why. There was just something about Andrea that made me want to do everything she asked. And knowing this, knowing how mesmerized I was by her, I should have declined her offer of employment. I so should have. But instead I said, 'I'd be happy to.'

Her smile was large and reached her eyes; so genuine. 'Excellent! I think the boys will love you.'


Luckily for me, Andrea was right. From the moment Sean Jr. and Benjamin met me, they wouldn't leave me alone. They were fascinated with my numerous tattoos – covering one entire arm, and several on my legs. Good kids, but I couldn't help realizing how they referred to Andrea: they called her by her first name. They referred to their father as Dad, however.

Two weeks into the arrangement, one afternoon as Andrea was getting ready to leave the house for her induction day at the community college, I got up the courage to ask what the deal was with the kids. We were no longer strangers, and the not knowing was driving me insane.

'I have an interior design lady coming this afternoon to do an appraisal of the lounge. Will you be around?' She fixed her hair in the mirror by the door as I hovered on the stairs.

'I'll be here. Can I ask you something?'

'Sure. What's up?'

'It's totally none of my business, but why do the boys call you by your first name? At first I thought it was a joke, but it's been going on for awhile.'

She didn't answer right away, she stayed silent, primping her already neat hair, but with a stiffness about her now. I watched her intently, afraid that I'd overstepped the mark.

'I'm not their mom,' she said stiffly.

'Are they adopted?'

'No. I'm their step-mom. They're Sean's kids from previous relationships.'

I would have left it there, and she probably wanted me to, but something didn't add up. Stupid, clueless me, not knowing when to drop the subject, continued, 'But you said you've been married for eleven years, and they're nine and seven...'

'I know.' She forced a smile to her lips. 'I'll be back in a couple of hours.' Seconds later she was gone, and I knew exactly what she meant, but wished I didn't.

Her children were the product of her husband's infidelity. She was raising her husband's bastard kids, and he repaid her by verbally abusing her. I was disliking this Sean guy more and more, and I still hadn't met him.


I was busy making a banana and mango smoothie in the kitchen when my cellphone buzzed, and a message came through. When I looked at it and read the message I hit delete immediately. Another text from my old house-mates, wondering where I was and when I'd be back. The landlord was on their case about my share of the rent.

'Not my problem anymore,' I muttered to myself.

I'd ignored every one of their texts and calls – dozens of them – to the point where Andrea got suspicious.

'Who are you trying to avoid? An ex?' she'd asked, laughing.

'Just some people I don't want to speak to.'

She never dug deeper than that though. I noticed that about her; she was so easygoing, so nonchalant and relaxed about everything. She knew I was running from something – that much was obvious – but she never asked what.

'Hey, look, it's none of my business. We all have skeletons. As long as you're not on the run from the law, that's fine with me.'

I'd never met anyone like her before. Beautiful women weren't rare, but beautiful women who were equally as beautiful inside as they were out were one in a million.

I got so lost in my thoughts of Andrea, of those cherry red lips and that tight, firm ass that looked amazing in her signature skinny jeans, that I didn't realize the smoothie maker was still running. As soon as I switched it off I heard the bell ring.

I hurried to answer the door, forgetting for a moment that Andrea had been expecting someone. The interior designer. Typical rich people, redesigning their homes when they didn't need any sprucing up.

I was fully prepared to leave the designer to her measurements while I chilled upstairs in my room, but my plans did a complete 180 when I pulled open the door and my eyes fell on the woman. A buxom brunette in a white blouse, buttoned up to the cleavage and no further, giving me a nice view of the top of her breasts. Her gray pants hung over four inch heels.

'Mrs Greene?' she asked, stretching out her hand and her smile.

'No, I'm Heather. Live-in nanny, or whatever.' I shook her soft hand, and we held eye contact. I was the first to snatch my hand away, afraid that the prolonged contact – touching a woman for the first time in two weeks – would arouse me to the point that I became mute.

I saw her eyes drift over my tattooed arm, then I saw something sparkle in them. Curiosity maybe. My ink always had that effect on women. They were definitely a good investment.

'I'm Debra. I'm here about the lounge.'

Having been around the gorgeous and unobtainable Andrea for a fortnight, having little interaction with other women, I was going out of my mind. This was the longest I'd been celibate in two years. So when I let Debra in I made a mental decision that if she flirted, even the slightest flirt, I would pile on all the charm and do whatever it took to get her panties off. All I needed was a sign.

I led her to the lounge.

'It's a nice space.' She nodded, looking around the room. 'A brighter color scheme would work better though. What do you think?'

'I'm not gonna argue. You're the expert.' I smiled.

She laughed loudly, much louder than the sentence warranted. Then her eyes landed on the baby grand piano in the far corner of the room.

'I love houses with pianos. I can't play to save my life, but there's something very... sexy about them. All those keys, all those fingers...' She licked her lips and side-eyed me. At least, I thought she was side-eying me. I wasn't sure. I was too busy watching her mouth, wanting to press my own against it. 'Do you play?'

I knew I had my sign; she'd made it pretty obvious. Who in their right mind would call a piano sexy if they weren't thinking about screwing?

'I can play one tune only. Which is kinda odd, because I'm really good with my fingers,' I said confidently.

When she turned to face me she wore a daring half-smile that sent a spasm of excitement coursing through my body. Then she turned away, looked at the piano again and said in a low, raspy voice, 'I'd really like to see that. How about you put your money where your mouth is?'

I had a cheeky comeback for that, but thought it would have been a little too risque, considering I still didn't have confirmation that I had a shot. I could have been barking up the wrong tree.

She strolled leisurely over to the piano and sat on the mahogany stool, leaving me space to squeeze on beside her. I stretched my fingers and she kept her eyes glued on them, looking hungrily at them. Her thigh pressed against mine.

'Let's see.' I hit a few keys, making a tuneless melody. 'It's been years since I played a note.' I eased into the only tune I knew, a tune I'd made up when I was a teenager. It was as crap then as it was now, and sounded worse because she was listening to it.

After a minute of my painful playing, I felt a hand slip onto my thigh, which stopped me abruptly mid note. I stared down at Debra's hand, sitting so invitingly, then I met her gaze.

'Why don't you show me what else you can do with your fingers?' she breathed.

'Well if that was what you wanted all along, why didn't you just say that instead of making me embarrass myself with my awful piano playing?'

She laughed, letting her hand travel to the top of my cargo pants, before slipping it in. 'I thought it was cute.'

I felt her hand drift up and down against my panties, rubbing my sex through the fabric. She obviously felt my growing wetness because a smile slowly spread across her face.

'Wow, you sure do know how to make a woman feel special,' she said, biting her bottom lip. 'I hope that's for me.'

My eyes fluttered shut briefly as I let the sensation of her rubbing take over my body. But this wasn't how I wanted her. I could pleasure myself any time I wanted, but I couldn't lap up the delicious juices of a woman's sex any time. I was in desperate need and I didn't want to waste the opportunity.

I clasped her wrist, stopping her suddenly. She seemed shocked.

'You said you wanted to see what I can do with my fingers.' I got up. 'Turn around,' I ordered.

Her eyes shone with excitement. She did as she was told.

Who did this woman think she was, coming into my home and trying to get me off? I wanted to show her that I ran this show.

'Now undo your shirt. Slowly.'

She began to loosen her shirt, one button at a time, all the while keeping her eyes on me. She worked her way down the blouse, gradually revealing more of her breasts until finally the shirt was wide open. I noticed the silver bar through her belly button.

Her perfect Ds sat comfortably in the bra, though I could see the pink shade of the ring around her nipple peeking out. I looked her up and down, taking my time, taking in every inch of flesh that was on display. My expression looked deliberately unimpressed; I wanted her to think this, though the opposite was true. The fact was that every second not touching her was agony for me. But this was the role I wanted to play, and I had to keep it up.

I got to my knees, gripping her legs and separating them before positioning myself between them. Then, keeping my eyes locked on hers I took one hand and ran it along her stomach, gradually working up toward her breasts. She let out a gasp when my fingers grazed the top of her breast, and another stifled gasp when my fingers went even further and released it from the cup.

I wasted no time making her nipple hard. I licked two fingers and brought them to it, rubbing roughly over the mound until it became erect. I smiled up at her, seeing what the slightest touch was doing to her.

I brought my mouth to the newly erect nipple and took it between my teeth. A low moan escaped her lips as I nibbled gently on the hard nub, pulling at it with my teeth. I let my tongue work circles around it, soaking it in my saliva, while my hand released her other breast into the wild. I sucked and licked one while pinching and rolling the other, and her moans intensified.

'Just like that,' she breathed. Her hands gripped the edges of the stool.

I slowly pulled my mouth away from her nipple, satisfied that my tongue had abused it sufficiently. I worked kisses along her chest, across her collarbone, up her neck before capturing her open mouth in a hungry kiss. The force with which I attacked her tongue with mine propelled her backwards, her hands now resting against the piano keys. They made a startling ding when her palms pressed them down. This wasn't enough to deter us.

I pushed her blouse off her shoulders, baring them. And I ran my tongue along the soft flesh, before sinking my teeth into it. She jumped slightly, but didn't pull away. I felt her hand on the back of my head. She eventually steered it away from her shoulder and back down to her breasts. I took one in my hand and slid my tongue around the skin circling the nipple, licking everything but the nub, teasing her. Only when I was ready did I unleash my tongue on that rock hard point, sucking and licking aggressively.

Her groan was heavy in her throat; her body trembled against mine.

'Fuck,' she mumbled, biting her bottom lip, her eyes closed. 'Fuck yeah.'

This exclamation amused me and I didn't know why. Probably because my tongue had reduced this prim and proper woman to a foul-mouthed, desperate nympho. It made me feel powerful.

'Is that what you want? You want me to fuck you?'

I looked at her smoky, glazed eyes when she opened them suddenly. Even if she didn't answer I already knew what the answer would be.


I gave a one-sided smile, knowing that I now had her right where I wanted her. In a frenzy and desperate for the next stage in our fuck-fest.

I undid her pants and tugged them down, revealing toned thighs. The trousers came off over her heels and I dropped them behind me lazily. I could already see her excitement through the lace window of her panties – the glistening wetness clung to the fabric, betraying her desire.

'You really do want this, don't you?' I said.

Her reply came in the form of a nod. It was like she couldn't form proper sentences.

I hooked my fingers over the top of her underwear, before sliding it down and peeling it off her legs. Her wetness clung to the small tuft of pubic hair that sat above the opening to her sex.

I lowered myself further onto my knees, before sliding her forward, and spreading her legs as wide as they would go. Again she leaned against the piano keys, creating a brief melody when she pressed down on several keys at once.

I brought my mouth to her cunt. My tongue sought out that hard nub, her clit, and I started a rhythmic up and down movement against it, soaking it in my saliva, stabbing at it with my trained muscle. I gripped tightly onto the inside of her thighs to keep her still and in place, as her body bucked beneath me. Her groans came with more frequency and volume than they did before.

I sucked at her clit, not stopping for a second, not allowing her to recover, bringing her dangerously close to climax. And when I felt that she was close, I held back, releasing the nub and sliding my tongue further down her pussy, lapping up her juices and swallowing the stream with thirst.

'Mmm, just the way I like my women to taste: sugary yet tangy,' I murmured against her sex, before continuing to eat her out.

My tongue teased the entrance of her hole, jabbing it and poking it until I felt a violent tremble of ecstasy shake her body.

'Right there,' she groaned.

I brought two fingers together while still tongue-fucking her, then finally drew my mouth away. Her body sagged and she looked at me expectantly, slightly disappointed as though afraid I would leave her there and not finish what I'd started.

'How much do you want me inside you?'

'I don't want it, I need it,' she whispered.

'Good answer.'

It was time to put her out of her misery. Time to show her what I was capable of. I stroked the opening of her hole, covering my two fingers in her juice, lubricating them so entrance would be easier on her. I kept my eyes glued to hers, watching her brown ones flutter shut at the contact. Her breathing was heavy. Then without warning, I entered her so suddenly she jolted and let out a gasp of breath. Another ding of the piano keys as she reclined further back, pressing even more of her weight down on them.

I worked my fingers in and out of her at a leisurely pace – not too fast, not too slow. Each new entry forced a stifled murmur from her lips. I loved it when they were vocal. As far as I was concerned, the louder the better.

'You like that? Ha? You like my fingers inside you?'

'Yes.' She could barely get the word out.

I sped up the movements, driving my fingers deeper, faster, stabbing at the wet passage. I glided in and out of her with ease. But I noticed that my thrusts were becoming rough. She probably couldn't tell, but I was fucking her like the frustrated house guest I was. As I closed my eyes, briefly erasing her face from my mind, I imagined that the moans and gasps were coming from the woman I'd imagined doing this to since that night in the park. As Debra's juices flowed onto my hand, and her body rocked beneath mine, I imagined that she was Andrea, and I was finally getting out my sexual frustration on her.

Her moans grew louder, and I knew that she was close. I brought my face to hers and shoved my tongue into her mouth, catching another moan before it could get out. My fingers continued their rough entrance and exit until I felt her shudder and let out one final groan of pleasure. Her body sagged lifelessly.

When she opened her eyes, she smiled tiredly, but the smile faded. She looked unblinking behind me. Still with my fingers inside her, I twisted around to see what had spooked her.

'Andrea,' I said, horrified.