An Excerpt from "Sweet. Sweeter."

Friends, you know what I've been thinking about? Well, other than that. *blush* I've been thinking it's been a LOOONG time since I've posted a new excerpt up here! And since I'm gearing up for my very first book launch for the Made For Hire anthology at the end of this month, I thought it was high time I put up an excerpt from my contribution, Sweet. Sweeter. 
 
So this is a story about Laura. Laura has her own bookkeeping business, a hot older boyfriend named Jack, his beautiful, new pool to lounge around this summer and even a young pool boy, Mason, to look after all the maintenance. So what's the problem? Well, these days it seems Jack is being a bit neglectful. In this scene Laura succumbs to taking care of business on her own. But it seems she is not quite as alone as she thought. And she's left wondering if maybe pool maintenance is not the only maintenance Mason is good for.

I dash into the family room and fish my special little helper out of my purse. Its smooth egg shape and shiny contours calm me, knowing that blissful satisfaction is near. I don’t lie on my back. I need to be fast and the fastest way is when I can hump down on it in my hand while lying on my front. Quickly I slip it inside my bikini bottoms and settle it between my labia, just over my clit. Even the cool hardness of it feels intensely good and when I ease myself down to lie flat on the sofa with my face buried in a pillow, I click the button on the attached remote and the vibrations purr into action. My hungry body convulses and I stifle a cry.

Oh yes. Oh yes. This is what I need. I won’t be long now. I feel my body winding tighter with glorious sensations and my release is imminent. Oh fuck, yes. I shove two fingers in me too, because I just can’t help it, rock the vibrating egg against me with my palm and come hard, my sex clenching my fingers, my hips thrusting into my arm, into the sofa as I hump, not caring about anything now but ringing every last bit of satisfaction out of this sweet release.

Sated I stand up quickly. I have to clean up fast before Jack walks in the front door. But when I do I immediately see Mason outside, turning away from the sliding glass doors of the family room to the pool deck.

Oh fuck. Oh holy fuck. Mason? What did he see?

‘Laur?’ I hear the door, Jack coming in the front. I stash my vibrator back into my purse, wipe my juices on my thigh, adjust my bikini and smooth back my hair.

‘I’m here,’ I call out, clearing my throat as I hear the shakiness rise in it.

We both walk into the kitchen from opposite ends of the house.

‘You okay?’ he says. ‘You look flushed.’ He looks out the window. ‘Oh, Mason’s here.’ Then back at me, eyes narrowing. ‘Did something happen?’

‘What?’ I say. Did it? ‘No, I – I didn’t even realize he was here.’ Obviously, or you wouldn’t have been going for it on the sofa. ‘He must have just gotten here.’ Just in time to watch you acting like a bitch in heat.

My brain will not shut up from its ranting in my head. Did he see? How long was he there?

It’s only when I’m lying in my own bed back in my own apartment that night that I truly begin to calm down. The rest of the time at Jack’s before he left for racket ball was an uncomfortable nightmare. I kept catching glimpses of Mason out of the office window, as I was trying vainly to quickly finish up Jack’s accounts, or out of the kitchen window, when I’d pad in there to grab a cold drink. Each time I managed a glimpse of him he was staring intently at the pool, apparently focused on his work.

            Maybe he didn’t see.

            But deep down I know he did.

            Was he shocked? Disgusted?

            Certainly a guy his age, with all of today’s access to porn and live web cams, would have seen much more attractive women masturbating in ways that were sexy, alluring, enticing. But what I did. Desperately humping a toy on the sofa. God. So embarrassing! I think I never want to go back to Jack’s again, as long as he’s going to be there.

            Except.

            Except there’s just one thing that makes me sure in my head that I will go back, will go the very next day, in fact, in the hopes that he might be there again. There’s one thing that makes me do it again, masturbate again, this time leisurely, slowly, deliciously slowly with all the time and privacy my own bed allows.

That is the memory of his eyes, just as he was turning away from the sliding glass doors. Our eyes met. For a split second we were staring at each other. I stroke myself, run my fingers up and down and all around my clit over and over, tease myself, shove my fingers in my sopping hole and back up to my clit again thinking about what I saw in the depths of that stare, in that solitary moment.

Not disgust. Not embarrassment. No.

Lust.

And not lust in a knowing way, like in the way Jack used to look at me when the mood would strike him and he’d bind me up in his bed and then stand back to admire his handiwork.

Can lust and innocence reside in the same place?

Oh yes, they can. Powerfully so, I suddenly realize. I saw it in that fleeting moment reflected in his eyes. All the carnal things he wanted to know but didn’t yet.

Oh god. I rub my clit hard, harder, finally thinking the thought that has lingered around the edges of my consciousness since I saw his face through the glass that afternoon.

I want to teach him.

I thrust two fingers inside myself and come hard on my hand, harder than I did that afternoon as I gasp out under my sheets, all twisted around me from my writhing.

Shit. What the hell am I thinking?

 

That's it for now! Want more? Come out to the SA Writers Centre and actually hear more on July 26th at 7 p.m. Yep, I'm going to read another excerpt aloud. I am! And I'm not going to be embarrassed or nervous at all... Nope, not me... *looks around nervously*

Love,

KC
 

"Cougar" excerpt

So you voted... and the excerpt from the Cougar anthology, Dear Fuckbook got the nod. So here it is!

October 15

I need a place to vent. This has to be it. I’ve never been a Dear Diary sort of person. To me it reeks of teenage angst. Oh god, to be starting it at 43… I am officially old and sad.

What to say? Where to start? They say, begin at the beginning. But I can’t. Not right now. I haven’t the strength. It would take too long, be too painful. I just need an outlet. So I’m going to start with a rant.

I fucking hate cell phones! Do people even call them cell phones anymore? God, I’m so out of touch I don’t even know what to call them. Personal, hand held, bloody instruments for ruining a marriage! Oh god! No. It’s too much. I can’t do this.

November 1

Let’s try again.

I’m not even going to go there this time. I’m going to start with the positive.
            I went out last night! I mean, out, out. The kind of out I used to go when I was twenty-one. Except that when I was twenty-one I didn’t appreciate out. Not really. Out was just what we did on a Thursday – a Thursday! – or Friday and definitely on Saturday. Does twenty-one, single with no kids ever appreciate out? I certainly didn’t. But I did last night!

I went out. And I hooked up. That’s what they say now, right? That’s what I’m saying. I fucking hooked up. And I say “fucking” now too!

Let me tell you about the old me. The old me was a scared little girl. She did what she was told. She looked down when she walked. Never met anyone’s eyes. Never got hit on. Never got laid.

I retired that scared, pathetic little girl last night.

I must say, I like the new girl. No matter how much pain was needed to birth her. Birthing hurts. That’s a fact. This one was no different.

But now she’s here. The new girl walks with her head up. She’s got confidence. She meets people’s eyes. And it’s amazing the friends you make when you meet people’s eyes.

I cannot understate how good it felt to walk into that club last night and not know what the end of the night would bring. There were possibilities. Possibilities! What a delightful word! Not casserole dinner and watching TV and no talking and perfunctory sex, no! Fuck that. Give me strangers and conversation and flirting. And sex. Sex that’s anything but perfunctory.

Hold on, I’m getting ahead of myself! First: I looked HOT last night. Hot! Me! I’ve never looked hot in my life but here’s something fabulous about a seriously less than fabulous situation: when your heart is broken you don’t want to eat. So you lose weight! It’s the diet secret of the century! I can just see the commercial:

“The problem with other diets is that they don't deal with those pesky cravings. You're eating a salad but you're thinking about dill pickle chips. With the Heartbreak Diet those cravings are gone! Your stomach is constantly churning. Your head is wrapped in pain and trauma. Cravings vanish! Hunger, gone! The pounds melt away. Friends will be jealous and ask how you did it. Only you'll know the secret: The Heartbreak Diet! (Cheating Husband and Conniving Bitch Best Friend sold separately.)”

A marketing possibility, I’d say. But I digress.

I took my skinny ass to the mall and bought the hottest, sluttiest outfit I could find. Black. Lots of skin. Lots of cleavage. I put on all the makeup my mother forbade me from wearing in junior high.

And.
I.
Went.
Out.

Oh yes, there’s a new sheriff in town.

She’s fucking guys and not taking last names.

November 5

Tonight was Bradley.

I met Bradley last Thursday. Bradley is basically the guy in high school who I wrote love letters to I never sent. It’s the age old story: geeky, book worm secretly loves football jock. If only I wore black rimmed glasses and had my best friend Alicia Silverstone give me a makeover it could have been the fourth most popular John Hughes film of its time. In reality it was twenty-five years in the making. And Alicia was too busy with my husband’s cock in her mouth.

The sheriff had her war paint on. She was meeting stares. And returning them. Bradley was the third guy to buy me a drink and the first to peak my interest.
            I say he was the jock from my high school but in fact he couldn’t have gone to high school with me. Since when I was in high school he wasn’t born yet.
            There is something so delicious about the young ones, isn’t there? And boom, just like that, I’m a cougar. Who knew? Not Bradley. He still thinks I’m 26.
            I’ll admit, the lights were low. In the club, all the way home in the cab, back at his little apartment over the tattoo shop, the lighting was thankfully dim. Was it naughty of me to keep up the charade? When he saw the photo of my daughter on my phone and asked if it was my sister, what should I have said? I don’t know now and I didn’t know then which is why I kept my mouth shut and the lights dim and half my clothes on while I straddled his condom sheathed cock. He soon forgot.
            Bradley with his thick thatch of dark hair, on top and below, his muscled and tanned young body, his smooth skin almost hairless, his dark eyes that have yet to be jaded by mortgages and early morning feedings and lay offs and … disappointment. Oh, he was so good, so trusting, so eager.

When he first said, ‘Shit, babe. Why are you slowing down?’ I admit I got off on that a tiny bit.

‘Shhhh, Bradley, it’s okay,’ is what I bent over and whispered in his ear as I stilled my naked body on top of him. ‘You want this to be fun for me too, don’t you? I haven’t come yet.’

I wonder how many girls Bradley’s fucked in his young life. I’m sure there have been quite a few, handsome as he is. I’m equally sure they were pretty one-sided romps on the pleasure scale, judging from the way he seemed so ready to just blow inside me as I rode him.

Here’s another secret: I’ve always wanted to know, what’s it like to make a guy wait?

What’s it like to make a guy want it so bad he’d give you his car, sign over his last penny, curse his mother, sell his soul, just to be allowed release?
I wanted to experiment early on with the person whose name shall not be mentioned here, but he wasn’t interested. Waiting made him impatient and annoyed. So I’ve only ever explored in my imagination. It’s been my naughty secret for the last twenty odd years. But now the gates of the playground of my imagination have been broken wide open. I cannot run out fast enough.

I wanted to make a guy wait. I wanted to feed off his desperation. What would happen if I did? I wanted to know.

 
And at that moment I decided Bradley was gonna help me find out.