erotica

My Sexy Nerdy Billionaire

My Sexy Nerdy Billionaire

By, Venus Wille

Copyright 2018 Venus Wille

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Cover Photo Credit:

Original studio publicity photo of Burt Lancaster for the film Desert Fury (1947). This work is in the public domain because it was published in the United States between 1923 and 1963 and although there may or may not have been a copyright notice, the copyright was not renewed.

 

My Sexy Nerdy Billionaire

“Oh, when Wilbur and I were married we had a lot of fun in the bedroom,” Veronica slurred drunkenly. She was completely tanked by this time. She was fifty-something with long, glossy black hair with a shock of white on one side of her part near her face. That night she wore form-fitting black leather pants with a silk burgundy boatneck top that fit her loosely but caressed and clung to her as she moved, hinting at her still small waist and shapely breasts.

 

We had gotten together for thanksgiving so that Wilbur could see the two boys that they had together. The boys, 17 and 22, were on the couch in the other room playing video games while Veronica, Wilbur and I had drinks around the kitchen island. We had all finished our feast created by Veronica’s chefs, paid for by Wilbur, just like the rest of her lavish life. I shouldn’t complain, my lavish life is also paid for by Wilbur. I’m just being petty.

 

Wilbur blushed at Veronica’s bragging. “Why don’t we talk about something else?” He tried.

 

“Hmmm… why so shy all of a sudden, big Willie? Remember when I used to call you that?” she winked at me, as if this were some private joke that we were in on together. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. What the hell was her end game here?

 

“Seriously, sweetie,” she turned to me, “it was like we invented sex. I mean we tried every position you can imagine. The neighbors in the apartment next to us used to bang on the walls because we kept them up at night. I’m sure they were masturbating to our sounds of lovemaking.”

 

Owen, their younger son, walked into the kitchen to grab a leftover croissant. “Mom! Gross!” he yelled.

 

Veronica looked at me and laughed. I joined in, not really knowing how to handle this woman. Wilbur and I had been married for 2 years at that point and I still hadn’t figured out how to maneuver this somewhat terrifying ex of his. She just didn’t follow social conventions.

 

“Oh, I think Nick is ready for us,” I said to Wilbur. “Did you get enough time with the boys?”

 

“Oh I think they’ve had enough of me,” Wilbur said.

 

“Veronica, always a pleasure,” he said as he leaned in to peck her on the cheek. She turned her head at the last moment and his kiss, intended for her cheek landed on the side of her open mouth. He gave her a polite hug with a couple of pats on the back and after a few more formalities we were outta there.

 

Nick stood at attention in his understated uniform that flattered his dark, glittering eyes and his athletic build. He held the door for me, “Mrs. Brown,” he said with a nod he held the door of the towncar open for me with one hand while he guided me in with another hand on the small of my back. It felt good to be back in Nick’s world again. Veronica had shaken me. The way he said “Mrs. Brown” was always thrilling because of his sexy voice and the way he made unbroken eye contact with me, he made me feel naked every time he looked at me but I found myself wanting him to keep looking. I felt understood by Nick even though the words that we exchanged were few.

 

“I’m so sorry about her,” Wilbur started, “she is just so easily threatened, you know,” he said.

 

“Yes… I noticed.” I said coldly. I wasn’t mad at Wilbur except that he had unbreakable ties with this horrible woman.

 

It was an hour drive, by the time we got back home, I had a plan formulated in my mind. It was broken down like any other project that I work on. I was high on all of my business school phrases… I was going to synthesize, there would be a paradigm shift, I knew I had the bandwidth to do it, I was going to aim for the low-hanging fruit, I hoped that there would be nothing viral! I chuckled to myself at my business puns but I wish I had realized that I was being truly ridiculous… it could have saved us some serious heartache and headache. Sex is not business (for us anyway) and approaching it like it is business is risky territory for a marriage. But, I digress. At the time , I was on a mission. I applied the same problem-solving strategies that I use on everything in my life and I was completely confident, completely oblivious, completely stupid. I wasn’t planning to tell Wilbur what I was up to… he would see right through me and know that my actions were motivated by jealousy and he’d try to talk me out of it.

 

I typed up my pro-forma as soon as I had a few minutes. I printed it and pinned it discreetly on my bulletin board in my office, behind a “Hang in There” kitten poster.

 

Goal: Incorporate Bedroom Spice Into Marriage;

 

Vision: Once we have incorporated Bedroom Spiciness into Marriage we will be more energized, have a new layer of intimacy and closeness in our relationship, Wilbur will spend less time on hobbies and more time with me, I will be the best wife that I can be (and that he has had); more possibilities will open up that are not currently anticipatable.

 

Measurements of success:

  1. Wilbur initiates intimacy a minimum of 5x per week
  2. Wilbur spends 10 fewer hours per week on hobbies and spends those hours with me
  3. Stretch goal: Wilbur brags about sex life to someone

 

Strategy: The project shall be carried out in 3 phases, detailed below:

 

Phase 1: Lose weight; objective: be more attractive to Wilbur; lose 60 lbs by May 5 (2 months/60 days/1lb per day)

 

Phase 2: Buy sexy clothes; objective: be more attractive to Wilbur; have sexy clothes in time for weight loss goal

 

Phase 3: If goals are not being met, escalate strategy by introducing possibility of threesome/another woman

 

Supplies Needed: 1. Weight loss supplies; 2. Sexy clothes in new, smaller size 3. Attractive, willing females

 

****

 

I mean… Sometimes it’s nice to be married to a billionaire… I converted one of the guest houses into my personal gym. Wilbur didn’t even notice because it was on the other side of the estate from where he tinkered on his projects and he always just missed the delivery guys.

 

I had my stylist, Hattie, bring in a few racks of fitness apparel for me to choose from. My favorite were the spandex pants (great for preventing thigh chafing!) in a milky way print (the galaxy, not the candy bar). “Wilbur would probably like these,” I thought. I got all the bras- pink with white polka dots, white with pink polka dots, black mesh with pads, grey and red tie dye, aqua with white trim, shirts that looked like bras and bras that looked like shirts!

 

I must say that I looked fucking adorable in my new workout clothes! It even made me wonder if I should be losing weight at all! My big booty looked like BLAM in that milky way spandex… out of this world, if you will. (lol.) I didn’t realize that I had been covering up my body in the boxy clothes that I had been gravitating towards, even with Hattie’s help, I just seemed to pick the shapeless tent clothes that I could hide in (to be fair, Hattie was constantly trying to talk me into taking risks and to “show off those curves.”)

 

In one outfit I had, magenta and black spandex pants with a matching sports bra and a long, fitted black racerback tank, I could not stop staring at myself in the mirror. I had always just felt like a big blob of a girl who grew up to be a big blob of a woman but when I actually wore clothes that clung, I could see that I had a pretty amazing rack that defied gravity, even without the sports bra on. In fact, I liked the way I looked with just the spandex pants on and nothing else. My nipples hardened, lifting my firm breasts even higher than they stood naturally. The pants pulled in my waist, which I hadn’t realized that I even had. I stared in the mirror, admiring this seemingly new body and found my hand caressing my breasts slowly and gently and then reaching back to touch my ass as I turned in the 3-way mirror to watch.

 

My vulva was awakened. I put my shirt on quickly and ran barefoot across the dewy, freshly cut grass to our bedroom where I had a hiding spot for my vibrator. Wilbur didn’t even know that I had one. I was kind of embarrassed about it, to be honest. For one thing, it looked like a giant, purple, veiny cock, and for another thing, I just… didn’t like to lose control in front of others, not even Wilbur. So this was my little secret for when I knew I could be alone. I went to our bathroom, turned on some Sade, and locked the door. I peeled off the spandex, got completely naked, and admired my creamy, soft, smooth folds in the mirror. Then lay on the floor with my legs up on the tiled wall and as soon as the vibrating cock made contact with my alert, primed clit, I lost myself in the agony of  pleasure with my battery-operated friend. I felt my whole body come alive with feeling and then a gush of relaxation surged through me as my natural juices flowed gently. I wanted more but my legs were shaking and I couldn’t handle another second of stimulation, it was just too much. Tears of release slipped from my eyes and rolled down the sides of my temples into my hair.

 

Someone knocked on the door and I tensed up.

 

“Honey, you in there?” Wilbur called through the door in his gravelly voice. Wilbur is much older than me and I have always loved his voice.

 

“Yep, I’ll be out in a minute!” I called back, blushing, despite myself. I sprayed air freshener all over the bathroom, put on my robe, stashed my vibrator, and thoroughly washed my hands before opening the door.

 

****

Shopping for clothes and gym supplies wasn’t the only fun part of getting started. I also started to learn about the wide world of porn… I figured a little extra research couldn’t hurt! There is so much porn out there. I didn’t even have any clue that there was so much and so many acronyms… BDSM, S&M, MILF porn, Cuckhold Porn, ATMA, One of my favorites, MASH (mature and super hairy) It goes on and on.

 

The first week of my weight loss phase was amazing. I was energized to see what I was going to look like. I did three workouts a day. Our chef was making… well… the food wasn’t that great. I have always loved comfort food and butter. But that first week my excitement carried me through and I lost 4 pounds. I felt buoyant, and excited, and… excitable. I was summoning Wilbur to the bedroom several times a day and I had to replace my vibrator batteries twice! By the time the third week rolled around, however, I was starting to feel miserable. I was hungry all the time, my weight loss was not anywhere near where I wanted to be for my goal, and I was even snapping at Wilbur! It was hard to follow my business plan for this project because my brain was just never working. I always felt like I was half-asleep.

 

I tried finding support for my weight loss project and the attitude that I kept encountering was that it was my own character flaw that I didn’t have the willpower to starve myself.

 

“Fuck that,” I decided, “fuck this diet.” Plus, I figured, I already looked adorable in all my new gym clothes! I did however love how energetic I was from all the exercise. I cut down my daily exercise  to one or two workouts a day with two or three days off during the week and I really did feel great.

 

Wilbur is kind of oblivious, he noticed that I was wearing a lot of spandex but he had no clue that I had lost any weight. Then I moved on to the sexy clothes phase. Hattie got me some really cute stuff but Wilbur was still oblivious and it was still me initiating all of our lovemaking. I was really hoping to excite his inner animal so that he would ravish my body the way I imagined that he couldn’t keep his hands off of Veronica back in their day… my ego tired of instigating.

 

So… I finally decided to just go for it and find another woman to bring into the bedroom. Totally irrational, right? I know. Melissa had long brown hair she was in her mid-20s a good 10 years younger than me and 30 years younger than Wilbur. It seemed like she does this a lot, she was not shy at all. After a few coordinating phone calls and a conversation with my attorney, I sent Nick to pick her up from her apartment. She showed up in jeans and a t-shirt and flip-flops. She had a fresh perkiness about her.

 

“ do you mind if I take a shower and get ready?”  Melissa asked.

 

“ oh no of course not,” I told her.

 

I walked her to the master bathroom and showed her where the towels are. Then I was off to find Wilbur. I went to his wing of the house where he was tinkering with a ham radio.

 

“Wilbur,”  I said, “ I would really love for you to come to the bedroom right now honey.”  This had been the line I’d been using in my recent horny renaissance. Like one of Pavlov’s dogs, he knew what that mean and, like a good puppy, he got up and ran to the bedroom, probably drooling like one of Pavlov’s dogs. (I hoped he was, anyway.)

 

Wilbur has an amazing body for being such a cerebral guy… and he knows it. He’s taken really good care of himself, he is strong and flexible and his salt-and-pepper hair is so sexy. I love his deep voice and his broad shoulders. He is usually so engrossed in his projects, however, that he is not extremely romantic. I’m guessing he’s always coasted on his looks with women. Being a billionaire didn’t hurt either but he had been poor once, a lifetime ago.

 

“Oh, shower time, huh?” he asked me as he was walking into the bathroom. He probably thought that I was getting the shower all steamy and hot for him, little did he know there was a surprise waiting for him… He walked into the bathroom naked and screamed comically.

 

“Ahhh! I’m so sorry!” and ran out of the bathroom.  To be honest it was hard not to laugh! I really should have prepared him for this. I went into the bathroom and took my clothes off and turned to look at him over my shoulder and caught him getting a good look at my big, soft ass.

 

“Wilbur… meet Melissa… won’t you join us?” and I gestured for him to follow me.

 

“Oh…” Wilbur said. I could see that as his shoulders relaxed his penis began to stand at attention. I had tried looking on all of the menage-a-trois websites to find someone who could be a fun addition but ultimately I decided to go with a professional, Melissa was a high-class prostitute. We really just needed someone who could guide us through this and then leave when I tell her to.

 

“It’s nice to meet you Wilbur,” Melissa said from the shower in her sultry Working Girl voice. He reached out his hand, awkwardly for her to shake it and she reached towards his erect penis instead of his hand.  Wilbur stepped into the large steamy shower, I followed behind him. I got some body wash and started rubbing his back and squeezing his butt. Melissa bent down to her knees and stuck his long, hard throbbing cock deep into her throat. She gagged briefly, not an uncommon problem with Wilbur, but recovered quickly. I soaped up my breasts and circled them rhythmically all over Wilbur’s back and Melissa reached around and stuck her thumb in his asshole while her mouth continued to pump robotically on his cock. She gestured “come hither” with the remaining fingers on her hand for me to approach. I stepped forward and she caressed my clit in a tantalizing swirl pattern.

 

I had almost reached the crest of climax but I chickened out, I just couldn’t lose control in front of them. I reverted my attention back to Wilbur and his pleasure. And pleasure he had. I excused myself for a little while to go pee and I just couldn’t help it, I started to cry as I sat there on the toilet naked and dripping soapy body wash everywhere.

 

“What is wrong with me?” I wondered, “Why can’t I cum in front of anyone?”

 

I pulled myself together and went back in with a forced smile plastered on my face. I was determined to get through this. They were too lost in their excitement to see my puffy eyes or to notice that my smile didn’t reach my eyes.

 

“Let’s go to the bed,” I said through the steam in my sexiest voice. Wilbur and Melissa followed me into the bedroom. Wilbur and I gaped at Melissa’s body, which hadn’t been fully visible in the steamy bathroom. She was tall and had long, elegant muscles rippling under her silken skin. Her breasts were, I think, implants, they were so spherical and high. Their exaggerated shape were eye magnets, I couldn’t stop staring at them. Her body was toned and tanned. I looked down at my soft, doughy white body.

 

“Melissa,” I said, “will you please guide us?”

 

“Yes, Mrs. Brown. Mr. Brown, will you please lie down here,” and she pointed on the bed.

 

“Mrs. Brown is going to fuck you know, Mrs. Brown,” she said, with a glint in her eye.

 

I climbed on top of his throbbing dick and felt that familiar thrilling fit as I slid him inside of me. I started rocking back and forth as Melissa slapped my ass to the rhythm of our lovemaking.

 

“Ouch!” I yelped. It was starting to hurt!

 

“Oh, sorry,” she said and knelt down and placed my bouncing tit in her mouth and suckled hard while grazing my nipple with her teeth. I felt a surge of electricity run through my body and Wilbur moaned in pleasure when my pussy involuntarily contracted in reaction to Melissa’s mouth.

 

I leaned back on Wilbur’s  dick and grabbed his toned thighs with my hands, and scratching him with my nails as I was grinding rhythmically.

 

Melissa, I realized, had been masturbating next to me and she started moaning in pleasure. She crawled on her knees over to Wilbur’s shoulders and lowered her cunt down to his mouth. I watched as he opened his mouth and extended his long tongue inside her womanhood.

 

The three of us convulsed and moaned together like we were one beast together with a syncopated beat. And when it was over, we lay, tangled in each other in our expansive bed, sweating and panting.

 

I woke up what felt like hours later and Wilbur’s head was nestled between Melissa’s silicone breasts. I gently moved him over to a pillow and then put on a robe and then shook Melissa awake, not so gently.

 

“Thank you for your service,” I told her, “it’s time for you to go.”

 

After she got dressed and gathered her things, I walked her to the door and reminded her of the generous payment she received that night, half was paid up front and I showed her proof of the wire transfer completed while we spoke at the service door to the garage. With the money that she made that night she could take a year off if she wanted to. I just hoped that it was enough to quell any temptation to extort us.

 

“Do not forget the non-disclosure agreement that you signed, Melissa,” I reminded her.

 

“Of course, Mrs. Brown. I am a professional. I hope to serve you again in the future.”

 

I opened the door and gestured to the garage where Nick was waiting to drive her home.

 

Nick nodded to me and, I couldn’t quite tell in the dim light, but it looked like he may have winked at me. He was a smart guy, he probably had an idea of what we were doing with this gorgeous, shapely late-night visitor.

I always had a little crush on Nick, I felt all hot and bothered as he and Melissa drove off in the towncar. Had he visualized our night’s activities? I blushed.

bedtime stories, erotica, Fairy Tales, magical realism

Hans and Greta

Hans and Greta

A Modern-Day, Magical Realist, Erotic Retelling of Hansel and Gretel

By, Venus Wille

Original Passages and Adaptation Copyright 2018 Venus Wille

Select passages and images taken from Grimm’s Fairy Stories, which is in the Public Domain

Hans and Greta

Once upon a time there was near a large city a small cooking supply wholesaler, with his sales, marketing, and operations managers and their staffs. On the sales staff were two employees, betrothed to others, but who yearned for one another, a young man named Hans and a young woman named Greta. Their cooking supply business was being overshadowed by Amazon and the wholesaler did not have enough sales income to support all of his staff. Once, when the company stock had hit an all-time low, he could not make even the semi-monthly payroll without mortgaging his primary residence; and as he worried aloud in a management meeting one evening, biting his nails for trouble, he sighed, and said to his management team,

“What will become of us? How can we pay our employees, when we have no more than we can live on ourselves?”

“Know, then, my boss,” answered the sales Manager, “I have 2 expendable staffers who spend all of their time flirting. I will lead them away, quite early in the morning, into the thickest part of the city, and there make give a pitch to an impossible prospect in a contest with better competitors; then we will watch them fail tremendously, giving us cause to terminate, and we shall be freed from them.”

“No, sales manager,” replied the wholesaler, “that I can never do. How can you bring your heart to treat your own staff that way, leaving them for the competition tear them to pieces?”

“Oh, you simpleton!” said the sales manager, “then we must all go under; you had better find a bankruptcy attorney.”

But the sales manager left the wholesaler no peace till he consented, saying,

“Ah, but I shall regret the poor children,” he called them children for they were young and sweet and reminded the wholesaler of the children that he and his partner were never able to adopt.

Hans and Greta, however, had not left the office yet for, worried about their jobs, they had been putting in overtime, Hans overheard the sales manager’s machinations and shared them with Greta. Greta wept bitterly, and said to Hans,

“What will become of us?”

“Be quiet, Greta,” said he; “do not cry— I will soon help you.”

And as soon as their employer and management staff had left for the night, he broke into the sales manager’s office to research the impossible prospect that they were to face the next day, learning of the prospect what the sales manager knew. The moon shone brilliantly when he left and he sent a text message to Greta, saying,

“Be comforted, dear colleague, and sleep in peace.” And so saying, he went to bed, all the while thinking of Greta and her large, soft bottom as he made love to his thin, vapid fiancé.

The next morning, before the sales team meeting, the sales manager went the the cubicles of the two youngest employees.

“Get up, you lazy things; we are going into the city to get some business.” Then she gave them each a slim file, saying,

“There is something for your sales pitch; do not use up all of these talking points before the time, for you will get nothing else. The big boss is coming today and if you lose this sale you will lose your jobs.” Greta took the files in her bag, for Hans’s bag was full of his notes from the night before; and so they all set out upon their way.

“Ah, boss,” said Hans, “I am looking at the white cat sitting upon the roof of the warehouse and trying to say good-bye.”

“You simpleton!” said the wife, “that is not a cat; it is only the sun shining on the white chimney.”

But in reality Hans was not looking at a cat; but every time he stopped, he sent a text message to his friend in the city.

When they came to the middle of the city, the wholesaler told the youngest employees to prepare their pitches, and he would introduce them to the prospect, so that it should not be a cold open. So Hans and Greta gathered together to discuss their plans. Then sales manager said,

“Now, you children, sit here in the waiting room, and rest yourselves, while we go into the office and warm up this lead; when we are ready, I will come and call you.”

Hans and Greta sat down in the waiting room, and when it was noon, each got out their file; and because they could hear muffled laughter from behind the door, they thought their employer wholesaler was near: but it was not their employer, it was someone’s ringtone. They waited so long that at last their eyes closed from weariness, and they fell fast asleep. When they awoke, it was quite dark for the energy saving lights had turned out, and Greta began to cry,

“How shall we get out of this predicament?”

But Hans tried to comfort her by saying, “Wait a little while, I will set off the motion detector lights and then we will quickly find the way.”

The lights soon shone forth and a knock came at the outside door. When Hans answered it, it was his friend whom he had texted, holding a special gift for the prospect that was rare and perfect and spoke to the deepest desires in the prospect’s heart. And Hans, taking Greta’s soft hand, pulled out his fat file of notes and confidently knocked on the door to the office of the prospect. He followed the notes, which guided him like a map into the heart and mind of the prospect, and showed them the path. All afternoon long they pitched on, and as evening broke they came to a deal. The sales manager and the wholesaler both knocked at the door, for they had abandoned their staffers to make them look stupid to the prospect, and when the new client opened it, and saw then standing there, she exclaimed,

“You wicked wholesalers! why did you keep these charming reps from me so long? I thought we were never doing business again until I met these two.”

But their employer wholesaler was very glad, for it had grieved his heart to leave them all alone.

Not long afterward there was again great scarcity in every corner of the land; and one night the youngest employees overheard their sales manager saying to their employer,

“Everything is again consumed; we have only half a deal, and then the song is ended: the children must be sent away. We will take them deeper into the city, so that they may not find the way out again; it is the only means of escape for us.”

But her boss felt heavy at heart, and thought, “It were better to share the last dollar with the children.” His sales manager, however, would listen to nothing that he said, and scolded and reproached him without end.

He who says A must say B too; and he who consents the first time must also the second.

The youngest employees, however, had heard the conversation as worked late into the night, and as soon as the old people went home Hans got up, intending to pick up some intel as before; but the sales manager had locked the door, so that he could not get in. Nevertheless, he comforted Greta, saying,

“Do not cry; sleep in quiet; the good God will not forsake us.”

Early in the morning the sales manager came and pulled them out of their cubicals, and gave them each a thin file, which was still smaller than the former files. On the way, Hans, stooping every now and then, texted a picture of the documents to his friend in the city.

“Hans, why do you stop and look about?” said the employer wholesaler; “keep in the path.”

“I am looking at a little pigeon,” answered Hans, “nodding a good-bye to me.”

“Simpleton!” said the sales manager, “that is no dove, but only the sun shining on the chimney.”

But Hans still kept texting pictures as he went along.

The sales manager led the youngest employees deep into the city, where they had never been before, and there making an immense fuss, she said to them,

“Sit down here and rest, and when you feel tired you can sleep for a little while. We are going into the office to warm up the lead, and in the afternoon, when we are ready, we will come and fetch you.”

When noon came Greta shared her notes with Hans. Then they went to sleep; but the afternoon arrived and no one came to visit the poor youngest employees, and in the dark winter afternoon they awoke, and Hans comforted his coworker by saying,

“Only wait, Greta, till my friend has completed his research, then we shall see the crumbs of information that we need to make the sale, and they will show us the way home.” The lights shone and they got up, but they did not receive any crumbs from his friend, for the friend’s cell phone had fallen into a puddle in the street and was waterlogged. The prospect, more impossible than the first, summoned them into the room for their sales pitch and again their bosses had abandoned them.

With his eyes, Hans kept saying to Greta,

“We will soon find the way”; but they did not, and they pitched the whole afternoon and into the evening, but still they did not make the sale; and they got so hungry, for they had nothing to eat but the berries which they found upon the bushes outside of their office building. Soon they got so tired that they could not drag themselves along, so they left the office building and, upon finding a tree, lay down under it and went to sleep.

It was now the third morning since they had left their employer’s warehouse, and they still pitched on, not wanting to return to the warehouse without a new client for they knew that that would mean the end of their jobs. But they only got deeper and deeper into the city, and Hans saw that if help did not come very soon they would die of hunger.

At about noonday they saw a beautiful snow-white bird sitting upon a bough, which sang so sweetly that they stood still and listened to it. It soon ceased, and spreading its wings flew off; and they followed it until it arrived at a cottage, upon the roof of which it perched; and when they went close up to it they saw that the cottage was made of bread and cakes, and the window-panes were of clear sugar.

“We will go into this place,” said Hans, “and have a feast. I will eat a piece of the roof, and you can eat the window. Will they not be sweet?” So Hans reached up and broke a piece off the roof, in order to see how it tasted, while Greta stepped up to the window and began to bite it.

Then a sweet voice called out in the room, “Tip-tap, tip-tap, who raps at my door?” and the children answered,

“the wind, the wind, the child of heaven”; and they went on eating without interruption. Hans thought the roof tasted very nice, so he tore off a great piece; while Greta broke a large round pane out of the window, and sat down quite contentedly.

Just then the door opened, and a very old woman, walking upon crutches, came out. Hans and Greta were so frightened that they let fall what they had in their hands; but the old woman, nodding her head, said,

“Ah, you dear children, what has brought you here? Come in and stop with me, and no harm shall befall you”; and so saying she took them both by the hand, and led them into her cottage. A good meal of milk and pancakes, with sugar, apples, and nuts, was spread on the table, and in the back room were two nice little beds, covered with white, where Hans and Greta laid themselves down, and thought themselves in heaven.

The old woman behaved very kindly to them, but in reality she was a wicked witch who waylaid young people, and built the bread-house in order to entice them in, but as soon as they were in her power she killed them, cooked and ate them, and made a great festival of the day.

Witches have red eyes, and cannot see very far; but they have a fine sense of smelling, like wild beasts, so that they know when fresh young things approach them. When Hans and Greta came near the witch’s house she laughed wickedly, saying,

“Here come two who shall not escape me.”

In the night as they slept in the beautiful beds, Hans and Greta at once allowed themselves to follow their hearts for their appetites had been satisfied and they simply lay in one another’s arms in Greta’s small bed. Both of their fiancés had broken up with them by text after receiving notification that they were no longer employed. And early in the morning, before they awoke, she went up to them, and saw how lovingly they lay sleeping, with their chubby red cheeks, and she mumbled to herself,

“That will be a good bite.”

Then she took up Hans with her rough hands, and shut him up in a little cage with a lattice-door; and although he screamed loudly it was of no use. Greta came next, and, shaking her till she awoke, the witch said,

“Get up, you lazy thing, and fetch some water to cook something good for your friend, who must remain in that stall and get fat; when he is fat enough I shall eat him.”

Greta began to cry, but it was all useless, for the old witch made her do as she wished. So a nice meal was cooked for Hans, but Greta got nothing but a crab’s claw.

Every morning the old witch came to the cage and said,

“Hans, stretch out your finger that I may feel whether you are getting fat.” But Hans used to stretch out a bone, and the old woman, having very bad sight, thought it was his finger, and wondered very much that he did not get fatter.

When four weeks had passed, and Hans still kept quite lean, she lost all her patience, and would not wait any longer.

“Greta,” she called out in a passion, “get some water quickly; be Hans fat or lean, this morning I will kill and cook him.” Oh, how the poor little Greta grieved, as she was forced to fetch the water, and fast the tears ran down her cheeks!

“Dear good God, help us now!” she exclaimed. “Had we only been eaten by the wild beasts in the park, then we should have died together.”

But the old witch called out, “Leave off that noise; it will not help you a bit.”

So early in the morning Greta was forced to go out and fill the kettle, and make a fire.

“First, we will bake, however,” said the old woman; “I have already heated the oven and kneaded the dough”; and so saying, she pushed poor Greta up to the oven, out of which the flames were burning fiercely.

“Creep in,” said the witch, “and see if it is hot enough, and then we will put in the bread”; but she intended when Greta got in to shut up the oven and let her bake, so that she might eat her as well as Hans.

Greta perceived what her thoughts were, and said, “I do not know how to do it; how shall I get in?”

“You stupid goose,” said the witch, “the opening is big enough. See, I could even get in myself!” and she got up, and put her head into the oven.

Then Greta gave her a push, so that she fell right in, and then shutting the iron door she bolted it! Oh! how horribly she howled; but Greta ran away, and left the ungodly witch to burn to ashes.

Now she ran to Hans, and, opening his door, called out,

“Hans, we are saved; the old witch is dead!”

So he sprang out, like a bird out of his cage when the door is opened; and they were so glad that they fell upon each other’s neck, and kissed each other over and over again. And Hans’s hands crept up to the alert nipples of Greta and tweaked them with frisky joy. Greta then disrobed in front of him and he beheld her roundness, softness, and beauty, for she was a large, plump figure made up of voluptuous curves. Hans’s mind consumed him with salacious thoughts and the pillar in his pants turned to marble, erect and tall beneath the thin fabric.

“I want to enter you, dear Greta,” Hans said and reached his hands between her legs where he found a great wetness unlike any he had ever known, viscous and warm.

“Take me from behind, Hans,” Greta told him as she pulled his pants to the ground. She gazed lovingly at the beautiful growth of the hair, in short and soft curls round the root of his large, hardened stem. Hans felt his penis quiver with desire as Greta’s vagina thirsted for his peasant seed.

Greta climbed down to the floor, and rested her weight evenly between her hands and her knees. Her ample bosom hung and swayed gently as her nipples pointed to the ground. She presented her round rump in the air for Han’s manhood to enter.

He pushed the full length of his hot shaft deep into her vagina. Greta and Hans gasped in delight in unison. He pushed in and out again and again. Greta held her muscles tight with pleasure for she did not want to let him go.

At last, the lovers came together in a flood of ecstasy and erotic bliss.

And now, as there was nothing to fear, they went into the witch’s house, where in every corner were caskets full of pearls and precious stones.

“These are better than files,” said Hans, putting as many into his pocket as it would hold; while Greta thought, “I will take some too,” and filled her apron full.

“We must be off now,” said Hans, “and get out of this enchanted place.”

But when they had walked for two hours they came to a large piece of water. “We cannot get over,” said Hans; “I can see no bridge at all.”

“And there is no boat, either,” said Greta; “but there swims a white duck, and I will ask her to help us over.”

And she sang:

“Little Duck, good little Duck,
Greta and Hans, here we stand;
There is neither stile nor bridge,
Take us on your back to land.”

So the duck came to them, and Hans sat himself on, and bade Greta sit behind him.

“No,” answered Greta, “that will be too much for the duck; she shall take us over one at a time.” This the good little bird did, and when both were happily arrived on the other side, and had gone a little way, they came to a well-known wood, which they knew the better every step they went, and at last they perceived their former employer’s warehouse. Then they began to run, and, bursting into the parking lot of the warehouse, they each left a hot, smelly turd on the cars of each, the employer wholesaler, for he was a craven, and the sales manager, for she was a witch.

Then all their sorrows were ended, and they lived together in great happiness.

My tale is done.

erotica

Quitting into the Arms of a Billionaire

billionaire cover 1 (1).jpg

Quitting into the Arms of a Billionaire

 

A BBW erotic story about quitting a dead-end job and looking for the right “fit”

By, Venus Wille

Copyright 2018 Venus Wille

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

 

 

 

Chapter 1: Mr. Douche and the worst job ever

 

I’m a pretty smart girl, I recognize this now, but, in my desperation to get a “good job” with benefits, I found myself under-employed, though I had a full-time job, under-stimulated, and… basically… miserable.

 

I worked in a beige cubicle in a sea of cubicles on beige carpet, surrounded by beige walls, dim fluorescent lighting flickered overhead and each day the “to do” pile on my desk got bigger and bigger. I actually didn’t even have my own cube, it was a shared cube in the basement where the ceiling was so low that if I reached my hand up while standing, I could easy push up a square in the dropped ceiling.

 

I had a few tricks to get me through the 40 hours a week. I listened to erotica on my earbuds. 50 Shades of Grey, Big Juicy Peach, everything written by Anais Nin, erotica podcasts, etc. Basically everything I could get my hands on. I also had my art projects at home. I love fabric and fashion and, as a large, voluptuous woman, it’s hard to find clothes that fit right and that I feel good in. So… out of necessity I have learned to sew. You would think that would mean that I had some snazzy clothes to wear to work but it didn’t mean that. I wore plain, uninspired, dowdy Lane Bryant to work. There were 2 reasons for that- 1. All of my sewing projects seemed to be boudoir-themed, erotica-inspired costumes with a vintage flare… not exactly work appropriate, and 2. The few times that I wore anything that clung to my figure and showed off my curves, my boss, would not leave me alone. His name was Mr. Davidson, but he went by D and I secretly called him Mr. Douche, or the douche. Mr. Douche pawed at me, called me up into his office on the ground floor for menial tasks that he could do himself- like pick up a pencil that he dropped on the floor in front of his desk- and he generally gave me the heebie jeebies. He also gave me assignments that were kind of fun to do but it just wasn’t worth the yuckiness. So… dowdy clothes. I’m still convinced that he had cameras in the basement because he only called me up when I wore something that showed off my body in some way.

 

One good thing about my dowdiness at work, or maybe it wasn’t such a good thing, is that I found that, as long as I could came in dressed plain as can be, geI could get by just fine completely stoned. No one noticed because I was invisible. I think my cubemate, Erin, was on the autism spectrum. She didn’t really notice much about me in general. She was actually the best person at that office. She didn’t gossip or play games, she said what she meant, she did what she said she was going to do, and I never felt judged or appraised by her. She was a thin little waif and perfectly contented to take the far corner of the cube, which was great for me because I just needed more space than she did, it wasn’t a selfish thing, I just literally fill more space.

 

There were a few jobs in the business that I had applied for during the time that I worked there. I thought that if I moved up I would find more job satisfaction and get out from under Mr. Douche’s thumb. There was always a reason that I didn’t get the job. Once it was that they already had a shoo-in lined up and I just didn’t realize it. Another time there was a software requirement that I didn’t meet. The last time, I was pretty sure, Mr. Douche sabotaged my effort to move up. He even told me, “oh I’m glad you didn’t get that job, I need you too much here.”

 

I realized one day that I had sunk into a deep depression without even realizing it. When I realized this I figured I should at least try to make the most of the situation I had. I listened to a Tony Robbins audiobook and got inspired to pitch a database design that would streamline our office process significantly. I pitched the idea to Mr. Douche and he loved it and empowered me to run with it!

 

For the next several months I put in extra hours to complete the project and when it was done it was beautiful. I was so thrilled and I could not wait to show it off. I gave a presentation to Mr. Douche and didn’t hear back from him about it for a couple of weeks.

 

I stopped by his office at the end of the day on a Friday to check in on the status of the database.

 

“Oh, yeah, thanks for checking,” Mr. Douche replied, “It didn’t go over so well.”

 

A week later at our company-wide meeting, Mr. Douche gave the same presentation that I had given him but to the whole company. The president of the company congratulated Mr. Douche on this breakthrough project and praised his initiative and innovation. I had to duck out of the meeting early because I didn’t want anyone to see my tears of rage.

 

I called my besty and next door neighbor, Jenny, and she walked me through the next steps of what I needed to do.

 

I wrote a resignation letter and put it on Mr. Douche’s desk and then called in sick for the remaining 2 weeks. He was never going to give me a good recommendation, anyway.

Chapter 2: An efficient, multi-tasked, 90 words per minute blowjob

 

After getting over my rage towards that DOUCHE, I watched a bunch of Tony Robbins videos on Youtube, got myself pumped up for the next thing, and walked on air! Sure, Mr. Douche had lived up to his name in a major way, but I had created something really great for the company and I could do it again, but make sure that I get the credit, and pay, from the get-go. I got a new credit card, $3000 limit with 0% interest for the first year. I figured, that would be enough to get a few outfits for interviews, maybe a nice haircut, mani/pedi, stuff like that, just to look polished and ready to accept a new job. The shopping was… kind of fun. It was hard to find things in my size besides shoes and accessories. After 2 days of shopping at the mall, Jenny suggested that I just order some things online. This woman is brilliant. I got one of those stylist boxes delivered. It was a little over-budget ($650 over…) and needed a little alteration (another $150), but I looked like a totally new girl in my cute blazers, skirts, and silk pussy blouses. I used the rest of the money to buy some new pumps, a wool overcoat since winter was fast approaching, and an attache, which Jenny referred to as “the prop.”

“Hey there,” I said to my new professional reflection in the bedroom. “You look like a powervull, zeksie voman,” I have a pretty vague idea of a generically eastern european accent but I’m not shy about using it in my masturbation foreplay. “Vy don’t you come over here and write a report on that… pussy… blouse for zee Department of zee Synergystics?”

“Yes, mister Ozoseksie, I’m on it!”

“Goood, goood… Virst, I need you on this,” I held my favorite vibrating dildo, the lavender one,  in front of myself, pointing up at my boobs- my imaginary sexy boss’s throbbing erection. In my mind I dropped to my knees to deliver him an efficient, multi-tasked, 90 words per minute blowjob. I had to ease myself down slowly because my tight tweed pencil skirt wasn’t designed for quick movements. I carefully opened my new shirt, imagining that I was being ravished, and pulled my boobs out over the top of my bra, my nipples were dark and hard. Mr. Ozoseksie twisted one of them and offered me a raise. I then performed a career-making blowjob on Mr. Ozozeksie’s big, purple, vibrating cock.

The fantasy was just getting started, I hiked the skirt all the way up around my belly button, slipped the vibrator between my wet pussy lips, and took some well-deserved R&R.

“Ahhhhh…. job hunting is fun,” I said to myself, lying on the floor of my room as the vibrator had its way with my clit.

 

 

Chapter 3: Dinner at Jenny and Sean’s

“So how’s the job search going?” Jenny asked me later that evening. Her husband Sean poured me a generous glass of Merlot. They are life savers, always having me over for dinner and listening to all of my drama.

“So far so good!” I answered, “I have 3 new interviewing outfits that look amazing!”

“You realize that you have to actually apply to jobs, right?” Sean asked, smiling.

“Yeah, yeah, Sean…” I answered happily. “Details!”

 

“But seriously,” Sean said, “you seem to have a new spring in your step. I see good things in your future.”

Jenny made her famous fish tacos that night, which gave me lots of opportunities to tell dirty jokes. “I just love a good fish taco,” I always say at the beginning of this particular meal.

Jenny rolled her eyes and Sean laughed. It’s our thing.

“Jenny, I hope you don’t mind squeezing around the table tonight,” Jenny said as she was finishing up with the salsa, “We invited a few other friends to join us.”

“Jenny, you know I’ll squeeze anything for your fish taco,” I answered.

“I thought you might say something like that,” Jenny responded as she looked for the salt shaker.

“You wanna salt my salsa, Jenny?” I asker her, I was just getting started.

“Oh yeah, Jenny, you know I do!” Jenny wasn’t so great at running with the jokes but she was a good sport. I didn’t mind if she was the smart one in the relationship, it left me room to be the funny one.

Twenty minutes later the other guests arrived. It was a gorgeous tall couple, Dev and Amra. She had big brown eyes and short, curly black hair. He had thick, salt and pepper hair, a pronounced square jaw, and what looked like a day’s worth of stubble. His black eyes glittered. Both of them had arresting good looks. They were both smartly dressed and seemed so… refined.

My jokes fell short that night, I just didn’t feel like I could be raunchy around Sean and Jenny’s friends. Jenny even asked me why I clammed up that night, after Dev and Amra left. She should have known that bringing up clams was going to get me going.

“Oh, you don’t like clams, Jenny?” I asked, “I got a reeeeal nice clam right here that I think can change your mind.”

“Ok, ok, nevermind, Jenny!” Jenny said, laughing but a little annoyed.

Chapter 4: Fantasy out of Control

 

That night, as I lay in my canopy bed, my vibrator and I had a drawn out fantasy about Dev, his glittering eyes, his toned abs, his warm, gentle hold on my breast…

“Jennifer,” he liked to use my “formal” name in my fantasy land, apparently, “Jennifer, I love your voluptuous body, I love your smooth skin, I love your firm breasts, but most of all I think I love your sexy, wet pussy.” Imaginary Dev moved down my body and my legs parted in thirsty anticipation. I have had lots of sexual fantasies through the years but this time was… Suddenly… more real than anything I had ever experienced before, regardless of how vivid my imagination can be, it was unreal how real this was. I could smell his cologne, aftershave, I think I could even smell his body wash. His body weight on top of me was heavy. His big, hard dick was palpable. I have never been so turned on in my life, there was no way this was possible, that I created him out of thin air but he was definitely… there.

He joyfully pushed his face into my vulva and titillated my clit with his tongue.

“Does that feel good, baby?” he lifted his head and asked.

“Yes!” I practically screamed, “please… don’t… stop!”

I knew that I was no longer in control of this fantasy, it has a will of its own. He worked my clit for a few moments longer until I felt a tension and then relaxation all over my body in a series of sudden jolts.

I reached down, ran my fingers through his thick hair, and gently tugged on his ears, “Please, I can’t take anymore, please…”

“Can I enter you now?” he asked, his eyes glittering, his voice sexy and low.

“Please do,” I whispered. He brought his face up my body, kissing along the way. My nipples tingled with anticipation and, my body was screaming for him to suckle my nipples, but he moved towards my face instead of my breast. My fantasy man seemed to have a mind of his own. I felt the sweat of his torso on mine and he leaned in, my musky scent on his face, and kissed me passionately as he plunged the length of his penis deep into my vagina.

He plunged, seemingly deeper and deeper, and with each thrust, his long movements stimulated my sensitive clit. I shivered in ecstasy.

“Maybe I’m sick,” I thought, “and this is a fever dream… or maybe there’s something extra in that weed I smoked tonight…”

We came together, my pussy convulsing in delight, and he let out a loud moan as he reached completion.

“I’m going to take a shower, my big beauty,” he said, “come join me, won’t you?”

“Yes…” I answered. Surely I was hallucinating. Well, I figured I might as well enjoy it.

He walked from my bed into the bathroom, completely naked. I admired his perky, round, athletic ass as he walked away from me. He had a heart-shaped birthmark on his right cheek, I thought that was pretty cute a nice touch from my imagination.

I got up to join him in the bathroom and, as I walked through the steam, it felt like reality set back in. Though the water was running and the bathroom was filled with steam, there was no beautiful man waiting for me in the shower. Of course. I imagined the whole thing. I decided to smoke less weed, I mean, it’s kind of scary that I was really starting to actually believe all of that.

 

Chapter 5: Job Interviews

 

I started getting interviews pretty quickly. I’m a resume spin doctor, I know how to incorporate the key words of the job description into my application documents. There is no HR software that I can’t get past. I was acing the interviews, I said all the right things in the right way, I was well-dressed, I did everything right and I knew I was on the right track. I didn’t hear back after the first few interviews but not all job interviews were going to be a home run, I knew that. I followed up consistently and had faith that something was going to work out soon.

After a few weeks, though, my morale was starting to wane as my savings dipped lower than it had been in the past year. One place that I interviewed with seemed interested and they told me that they would have their decision made in the next 6 to 8 weeks. SIX TO EIGHT WEEKS! JESUS. I was hoping to have a job by then. Another place called me back for a second interview but it weirded me out the way they asked me the EXACT SAME QUESTIONS in the second interview as they did in the first. I mean… were they testing me or something? I was taken off guard by this and, though I totally nailed it the first time I answered those questions, I bombed the second time. Also, it’s really hard to answer that question, “Where do you see yourself in 5 years?” I’m like… “working here? Hopefully?” I don’t know if I’ll ever know how to answer that one.

In my 8th week of the job search I was starting to feel desperate. I opened 2 more credit cards, but this time it was just to live, not to get cute new job clothes. Jenny and Sean were, of course, great. They encouraged me to come over for dinner every night until I had a job. They really wanted to help me out but I started to just want to be alone with my Netflix (compliments of Jenny and Sean, of course), my ramen noodles, and my oreos.

In the 9th week since I quit my job, I decided that I deserved a break and binge-watched Sex and the City, then Black Mirror, then Parks and Rec for 4 days straight, masturbating with my various dildos and vibrators. I think I took a total of 1 shower the whole time. I finally peeled myself off the the couch, washed the blanket that I had been laying on all this time, and pulled myself the fuck together. I thought.

This is how I started the 10th week of the search, and it was with renewed vigor and ambition. I  decided to apply to 15 jobs per day. Yeah… that lasted for a total of 1 day. It was just so exhausting. I had stopped spin-doctoring my resume, I was just just putting it out there as much as possible. I burnt out on that pretty quickly, though. I was just spinning my wheels, putting myself out there and getting zilch. It seemed like I got better results at the beginning of the search- I was, at least, getting interviews back then. I just didn’t have it in me to finesse another fricking job application.

Finally I got another job interview, it had been weeks. It went pretty well, I thought. I called back about an hour afterwards to ask a couple of follow-up questions and the girl who answered the phone told me that they had already filled the position! And it was her! It was a reception job. I was kind of sad but mostly pissed. Why did they even waste my time like that? I thought I could sneak in there, pretending to be lost, and catch a glimpse of the oblivious bitch who got the job. I didn’t make it inside, though, I just peered through the window and saw a seriously, no fucking around, model-level beauty sitting at the front desk with a plastic smile on her face. Fuuuuuck. Is that what it takes? She’s tall… and skinny… her skin literally glows, like if you turned the lights off in the office she would radiate light like the fucking madonna.

I went to a bar that night and didn’t leave until last call, 2AM. I stumbled home to my apartment and the next thing I knew I was waking up on the rug, next to my couch. On the floor next to me were the first bills for my new credit cards and, would you believe it, I was already late… on all 3 of them! I started this job search thinking that I would be moving UP into an actual professional role, or a role that had opportunity to move up. That’s the only reason I applied to that receptionist job- because the job description said “advancement opportunities.”

“Is that even a real thing? I wondered out loud, “or just another bait and switch?”

Then, out of the blue, I had a brilliant idea! Why not drive for Lyber??? “Yesssssss!!!” I practically shouted.

My phone buzzed. It was a text from Jenny: “Masturbating again, eh?” she asked.

 

“Nope!” I wrote back. “Just celebrating my brilliance!” But then I celebrated some more with a vibrator.

 

Chapter 6: Driving Lyber

 

Four days later I was a bonafide driver in the gig economy.

One day, who did I pick up but Mr. Douche. Of course it had to be the day that I spilled green smoothie all over my right boob, which also happened to be the day that my car smelled kind of funny from the last rider’s dog who, I should not have allowed in the car but I did and then the dog whimpered, scratched the seats, and puked. I mean I SHOULD have called it a day after that but I hadn’t met my daily goal yet and I just wanted to squeeze in one more ride before going home to gorge on ice cream and continue my rewatching binge of Game of Thrones.
Mr. Douche got in the car and acted happy to see me. He sniffed, not so subtly, and said, “Oh, hi, Jenny. It looks like you’re really “moving” in your new career, huh?” He actually did air quotes, that motherfucker.

“Haha,” I fake-laughed feebly. Fuck man, we were going to be in the car for 20 excruciating minutes. He started off the ride by asking me about what it’s like to drive Lyber, then he moved on to tell me about the amazing car that he rode in earlier that day. It was a towncar with snacks and in the seatback TVS, the driver was playing a Michael Buble concert. “Whoop-dee-fuckin-do,” I thought.

“Just something to work towards, kiddo.” Gross. I hated it when he called me kiddo. I felt like I would need a shower immediately after this ride. Then he told me, “just so you know,” that there was a wet stain on the floor and a “distasteful” smell in the air.

Then he got on his phone and had a loud conversation with someone. “No, this one’s not as nice as the last one,” he commented to the person on the phone. “Yeah, no tip this time, HA!” and he laughed loudly. “Just kidding, it’s an old secretary of mine. Looks like she found herself working for me once again… yeah I’ll throw her a bone…. Thanks but you don’t have to say that, it’s the decent thing to do….” My skin crawled, my knuckles were white from gripping the steering wheel so tightly and I seethed listening to his condescending bullshit.

At the end of the ride, he got out of the car, about to walk away, then he turned back, opened the front door, leaned in, and breathed down on me like he used to. His eyes ran over my tits, stained shirt, belly rolls and then finally up to my face.

“Jenny, if you ever want to come back just give me a call, I can always pull some strings for you. I got promoted right after you left. I can help you.”

“Thanks, Mr. D, I might just do that!” I hated myself for my false enthusiasm but I didn’t feel like I was out of the woods yet with this job search situation. I was humiliated and I knew that he was going to go back to the office and talk about my pathetic circumstances and how he offered to help.

Chapter 6: Take me back?

 

A few days later after that ride with Mr. Douche, my car started smoking under the hood. I know I shouldn’t have but I squeezed in two more rides and then, the car actually caught on fire while a Lyber rider was in the car! I pulled over and, luckily Lyber required me to have an emergency kit with a fire extinguisher in the trunk. The rider was PISSED, though, and I got negative reviews from the other two riders when the car was smoking so… my Lyber privileges were suspended indefinitely.

I had all these looming bills and my rent check was due soon. I decided to call in that favor from old Mr. Douche.

“D here.” Even the way he answers the phone is douchy.

“Hey. Mr. D,” I started, my voice quivering from nerves, “It’s Jenny.”

“Oh yes, Jenny. I thought you might call…”

“Yeah, you know, it was so nice seeing you the other day and…”

“Are you looking for a job, Jenny?”

“Well, yes, actually.”

“Ok, well, I actually have a secretary job open right now, believe it or not, but you’re going to have to interview for it, we have several very qualified candidates. I think you’ll be the frontrunner, of course, especially after that database project you did for us,” he added, “but, you know, we have to go through these HR formalities.”

“Oh, ok, yeah, I understand…” I said, starting to feel a little hopeful.

“So, can you come in this afternoon for your interview? You’ll have an initial interview with HR and then 1-on-1 with just me afterwards.”

“Um, I mean, yes! I’ll be there.”

“It will be nice to see your… face… in here again, Jenny. Why don’t you wear that blue and white dress today?”

“Yeah, ok, sounds good, I’ll see you at… what time again?”

“Oh yes, 3:00, Jenny. Don’t be late.”

“I won’t.”

I had a few hours before going. I tried masturbating to get that rosy glow in my cheeks but I just couldn’t get into it. I put on the blue and white dress. It was a knit number that didn’t show a lot of skin but clung to my curves like a wet glove. I was kind of surprised that the D suggested that dress, or even remembered it because I only wore it to the office once, but at this point I would take any advice if it meant getting out of this financial pickle I had put myself into.

I aced the HR interview and then waiting outside Mr. D’s office in a row of other young women, all big and busty like me. Interesting.

One of the candidates walked out, of Mr Douche’s office, flushed but smiling. “Is there a Jenny out here?” She asked the group, “If so, you’re up next.”

“Yeah, that’s me,” I answered. I picked up my “prop,” went inside the Douche’s office, and shut the door. Clearly he had moved up in the world since I had last been there. His new office was in a corner spot with floor to ceiling windows, art, plants, and even a minibar in the corner. The blinds were closed.
“Jenny, I’d like to think that I can be completely honest with you,” the Douche started off. Oh boy…

“Can I be honest with you?”

“Yes, of course, Mr. Doo- I mean Yes, sir.”

“Good, good,” he said. I was still standing and he was leaning back in his chair with his legs spread wide.

“Well, Jenny, I’ve really missed having you here…,” he unbuckled his belt. My brain was going in slow motion, my initial thought was just, “that’s weird.”

“And you did really great work for me when you were here before… but… if I let you come back there will be new expectations, you know,”

“Yeah, sure, I understand,” I mumbled.

He stood up and dropped his pants. Through his boxer shorts his erect pink penis poked out.

“Jenny. Would you like to suck on it or bend over and let me take you from behind?”

Now I understood why he suggested this dress. It was a soft and stretchy knit sweater dress that I could easily move up my thighs and over my hips.

“Um…” I answered, suddenly feeling nauseous, “uh…”

Don’t be shy, Jenny, I have been waiting for this moment for a long, long time.”

“Uhhhh…” I said idiotically, and turned around and ran out the door, slamming it behind me.

“Don’t,” I told the women waiting outside the office as I ran down the hall. “Just… don’t.”

The Douche called me on my cell as I ran out of the building. I didn’t recognize the number and so I answered.

“That’s the last time you humiliate me, you bitch,” The D said in a low, threatening voice. “You’ll never find a job, I was the only one willing to throw you a bone. You want to know why you haven’t gotten a job yet, because I told everyone who called that you betrayed me and took credit for my work. You deserved that, you bitch, I was willing to help you out but you have to help-” and I hung up. I continued out the building and once I was on the bus I blocked him on my phone. I was dizzy, disoriented, and miserable.

As soon as I got home I immediately changed into my pajamas and called Jenny. She left work early to come comfort me. A true friend. She encouraged me to file a police report but, honestly, I just wanted to forget the whole thing. I never wanted to see the Douche or think about him again.

Chapter 7: Good, Silly Fun

 

“Jenny, I don’t know what to do. I can’t get a job, I don’t have any good references, my bills are piling up, I’m already behind on payments, and I just want to go to sleep for a few years…”

“Jenny, listen, do you remember Dev and Amra?”

“Yeah…” I couldn’t really forget Dev, he and I had enjoyed many orgasms together in my very vivid imagination.

“Well, they invited us to a new Burlesque club tonight. I think you should get dressed up and come, it will be good, silly fun and it will help you get your mind off of things.”

“No, I don’t want to be a fifth wheel in a sexy place like that…”

“Jenny, they asked for you specifically, don’t you think it could be something fun and different?” Jenny urged.

“Ok, I’ll go.” I was a little nervous about seeing the real Dev in the flesh, especially in front of his hot girlfriend. Would I totally give myself away with my stuttering and hot flashes the instant I saw Dev? Even though I was nervous, my desire to see him again was irresistible and it did feel like a nice diversion from the hellish day I had been through. If nothing else, seeing Dev’s beauty might wash the memory of the Douche’s disgusting pink pecker from my mind.

I had this cool flapper-style dress that I had been working on and abandoned a few months before. It just needed a few hours of work and it would be finished and exquisite. And a few hours was exactly what I had.

The dress was magnificent. It was emerald green and brought out my green eyes. My bare shoulders and cleavage looked amazing and I put the fringes in a sexy zigzag that kept the eye moving up and down my curves. I didn’t look great in everything but I looked hot in this. And I knew it. I wore simple black pumps and I had a lush headband with a peacock feather that I had been saving for just the right occasion.

I had just enough time to give myself vintage-style fingerwaves and then Jenny was knocking on my door.

“Wow, Jenny. Just. Wow.” She stared at my body. She was wearing jeans, a cowl-necked sweater, and a pea coat. She always looked elegant but… I think I actually outshone Jenny that night… definitely a first.

When we got to the burlesque club, I was under a spell from the moment we walked in the door. There were mirrors on the ceiling. I looked up to see my opulent breasts looking ripe and delicious. The surroundings had rich brocade, velvet, silk, and satin. I just wanted to get naked and rub my bare skin all over the delicious fabric. I managed to contain myself, but I couldn’t help touching every delicious fabric I encountered. A tall, willowy hostess in an old cocktail waitress uniform showed us to our table where Amra and Dev were waiting for us. There must have been a smoke machine or something, there was a smokiness to the look of the place, but without the smell. We sat down at our table, round, heavy, rich mahogany number. We sat on soft, plush velveteen chairs that were overstuffed and reminded me of pincushions.

“Jenny,” Amra greeted me with a warm smile, “we’re so glad you could join us tonight! You look amazing. Doesn’t she look amazing, Dev?” She turned to the gorgeous Dev, seated next to her, who had only just lifted his thick eyelashes to take in the sight of me.

I suddenly felt naked. My nipples pricked up beneath my sassy dress and my clit came alive. He scanned my body and seemed to see all of me.

“Stunning,” Dev murmured in a low voice. I felt a hot blush creeping up from my vulva, over my stomach and breasts, up my neck, and to my face. I felt awkward and shy again.

I sat down, with Amra between me and Dev. I feared that if I sat too close to him he would see all of the fantasies that I had had about him over the past few weeks. I felt embarrassed, ashamed, and aroused. Amra smelled amazing and my bare arm brushed up against hers, which was soft like a rose petal.

We drank champagne, played cards, and watched the beautiful dancers strip off their splendid vintage costumes until they wore nothing but bejeweled pasties, which also came off. It was really the best night I had experienced in a very, very long time. I was in good company (I had even stopped resenting Amra for getting the gorgeous hunk of a man to herself), we laughed and told stories, I felt light-headed and giddy and didn’t think of the earlier events of the day with the Douche. Not once.

At one point I got up to go to the ladies’s room. A distinguished looking older woman with short hair and wearing a pinstriped 5 piece suit approached me and asked me, how I was enjoying my evening.

“Oh, it’s just… magnificent,” I sighed, “This is my new happy place.”

“Wonderful, wonderful,” she said. I was on clouds and a little drunk and went on,

“I’m a seamstress, and I’m actually unemployed would you be interested-”

“Well-,” she interrupted, “we don’t have an opening for a seamstress at this time.”

“Oh, ok, I totally understand,” I felt a little stupid.

“But we do have a space for a dancer of your… body type.”

“What, no, I’m not a dancer, I’m sorry-”

“You don’t need to apologize,” the woman said softly and for the first time, she pointedly ran her eyes slowly up and down my body. “I think you could do very well here with our clientele. Why don’t you think about it for tonight, if you change your mind come back tonight at 1:00. I have some things that you could wear. You would fill them out nicely.”

“Well, ok,” I replied, flattered, and we parted ways. That was hot.

I wasn’t planning to do it but I warmed up to the idea as the evening continued. The champagne helped. It also helped that I saw Dev’s eyes lingering on my breasts and ass, when I stood, from time to time. Of course, I didn’t tell anyone at our table of my plan, I knew I would lose my nerve.

Chapter 8: Matilde’s Dressing Room

 

I rode home with Jenny and Sean at 11. Then at 12:30 I summoned a Lyber and made my way back to the club. I was electric with excitement and when I stepped back inside the luxuriant space it felt like a homecoming.

The owner smiled at me, she seemed to know that I would be back. Along the way she instructed me to call her Rene and told me that I would be paid $400 in cash that night, plus any tips I earned.

“This way, my dear,” she put one hand on the small of my back and guided me to a hidden door that led backstage. There was a door with the name “Matilde” on it and when I walked inside I gasped, causing the club owner to smile warmly in a way that made her eyes crinkle at the edges. The room was a bit disorienting with opulent textures, colors, and lights. A crystal chandelier hung in one corner casting glimmers of shimmering light throughout the whole space. A dressing table with a mirror, lined with globe lights. The highlight of the room, though, was the wardrobe. Satins shimmered, lace hung elegantly, and every color and soft, elegant texture you can imagine.

“Which outfit were you like me to wear, um, Rene?” I asked the club owner.

“Whichever you like is fine,” she answered, “but I think these would be especially sexy on you.”

She held out a long ivory silk chemise with black trim and a long, black boa. My breasts, my ass, even my belly looked elegant and sumptuous under the fine fabric. The thin fabric fell delicately on my hard nipples, and the color of my nipples was slightly visible through the thin, pale fabric. The lines and cut of the fabric were breathtaking. I can’t tell you, exactly, what it was like, but it was like the chemise had a magical quality. It didn’t transform my body but, rather, brought out the soft, voluptuous qualities that have been there all along. I was tempted to just stare in the mirror all night, touching each part of my body continuously.

But, it was soon time to go out on the stage and, thank goodness for the lights, I couldn’t see the guests in the audience. In the center of the stage, a mirror lowered slowly, perpendicular to the audience. The sultry music started and I made my way to my own reflection. I stared in awe at my own beauty in the lovely slip, falling gently on my soft curves. My hips undulated seductively and I turned around and around, slowly, provocatively. The slinky chemise, on its own, slipped its way way off of my shoulders and to the floor in a shimmering pool of liquid.

I was completely naked in front of a small crowd of strangers. The vapor from the stage smoke machines snaked its way up around my legs to my sex. It was like the smoke was going into me, touching me on the inside and I buckled and moaned in pleasure as the music reached its crescendoed. The crowd cheered and the lights went out. I picked up the chemise from the floor and made my way back to my dressing room, aroused by this public display of my own eroticism. I had never felt this alive before in all of my days.

I went Matilde’s room, flushed and excited, wanting to put my hands on my vulva, rubbing my cunt, feeling the excitement of the night. It was like the arousal of the viewers was channeled into my body and I needed some release. I got inside and locked the door, I slipped on a satin dressing gown and just as soon as I had poured myself a glass of water, I heard a soft knocking on my door.

“Jenny?” the voice said. The voice was deep and familiar but I couldn’t place it. How did this person know my real name? To the crowd, I had been “Matilde.”  I had a brief moment of panic. Luckily there was a peephole and I looked through.

It was Dev! I flung the door open and he stepped inside cautiously.

“Jenny, I…” he started, “I had no idea you could dance like that,” he said quietly in his low voice. I noticed a quickening in his pants.

Relief and excitement washed over me that it was Dev standing in front of me. I was still elated and high from dancing in front of strangers. I flung my arms around his neck and kissed him deeply, all inhibitions gone. I felt as though my vagina felt like hot, slipper satin. My erect nipples rubbed against him through the thin silky fabric of my dressing gown and his thicker cotton weave shirt. I kissed him for a long time and he brought his hand up between my thighs to my pulsing and alert cunt. His long, masculine finger reached inside of me, came out slippery and viscous, and began to caress my clit.

All of a sudden, I stopped cold. Behind the walls of my imagination, Dev and I had consummated our passion for each other many times. But this time, it was real. He was REALLY here with me. And I realized that something was wrong.
“Dev,” I said, pulling away from his embrace, “what about Amra?”

“My sister?” he asked, confused.

“Wait, Amra is your sister?” I quietly asked in shock.

“Well, yes… “ Dev answered, “we’re twins. I thought you knew…”

“I didn’t know,” I answered and returned to his mouth with mine and guided his hands back between my legs, once again.

After we had made love and he held me against his warm, broad chest, he said, “I had just come back to tell you that you had done well and to pay you. This, however, was… very unexpected and very… nice”

“Pay me? Rene was-”

“Rene is my business partner, I have invested in her business. I was surprised to see you up on stage tonight, and since you are a friend, I asked Rene if I could pay you myself this once, she usually handles that stuff.”

“Oh,” I said and blushed. I could feel his eyes on me again, hungry.

“Jenny, the truth is, I have wanted you from the first night we met and… well… I think about you and me… together… quite often and it brings me… great pleasure.”

“It does?” I asked, him, still not believing.

“Yes and… now that I am thinking about it…” we both looked down at his renewed erection, “I was hoping that this would not be a one-time thing.”

“It’s not,” I whispered into his ear as I sucked on and bit his soft lobe. I climbed on top of him and he pushed his smooth, hard, glistening manhood deep into me, deeper than I had ever felt anything inside me before, even deeper than any of my dildos or vibrators could reach.

 

 

Chapter 9: A Business Venture

 

After that night, Dev spent many nights at my small apartment. He had an amazing place of his own with a breathtaking view of the city skyline but, in his words, it was cold, empty, and lifeless. One night, as he stood naked in my room, I noticed that he did actually have that heart-shaped birthmark that I had imagined the first night we met. “Could that encounter have been… real in some way?” I wondered.

 

He opened the extra closet in my room and was dazzled by the dresses inside. “Jenny, what are these?”
“Oh, those are my designs,” I answered, “I like to sew. I asked Rene if-”

“Jenny, these are lovely. They could make a fortune. You could build an amazing business…”

 

“Oh I would love to, Dev, but I am ridiculously broke these days.”

 

“Jenny. Didn’t you know? I’m a billionaire.”

And so that is how I met my first investor in my line of plus-size erotic wear.

 

But, before all that, I had one more encounter with Mr Douche. Dev and I were walking down the street, in the crisp fall air, hand in hand, stopping to press our bodies up against each other and kiss deeply while he snuck a hand between our bodies, up to my breast, down to my sex, or sometimes he just reached behind me and took a generous buttock in each hand as he pulled my hips towards his pelvis and we drank each other in thirstily. It was one such moment that I heard a familiar nasal voice say my name.

“Jenny is that you???” the voice said.

Dev and I pulled away from each other briefly and there he was. The Douche. “Oh, Mr. Singh, I didn’t realize that was you,” the Douche looked suddenly nervous and flustered. “I’m sorry to bother you,” the Douche continued, “I’ll just… uh… be on my way…”

We stood there and watched the Douche as he walked away.

“How do you know Davidson?,” Dev asked.

“Oh, we worked together a long time ago,” I answered vaguely. I just didn’t care about that Douche anymore, no need to rehash old shit. “How do you know him?” I asked.

“He tried to get me to invest in his garbage business idea,” Dev answered. “I never liked that man and he still seems to think that he can sway me because he kept calling and calling and showing up all over town and at my office like he was stalking me. I finally told him never to call me again and that if I saw him near me again my bodyguard would enjoy causing him… uhhhh… great pain.”
“Dev, you don’t have a bodyguard,” I said, confused.

 

“I know,” he said, smiling mischievously. We both burst out laughing as we watched the Douche a block away, power walking away from us as fast as he could.

 

 

erotica

Big Juicy Peach

Big Juicy Peach Cover

Big Juicy Peach

A BBW erotic novella with curves, seduction, betrayal, and murder

By, Venus Wille

Copyright 2018 Venus Wille

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

 

Chapter 1: The Teaches of Peaches

 

My phone started playing The Teaches of Peaches. “Oh goodie, a text from Reina!” I sang with glee.

“Peach, I need to tell you something…” the text said.

“Uh-oh,” I wrote back playfully and attached a gif with the Joker saying “Why so serious?”

“I’m so sorry to be the one to tell you this…”

“Wait…… tell me………….. What????” I typed.

“I think Devon might be cheating on you.”

I stood up abruptly from the armchair I had cozied up into and the blood rushed from my head. I thought I might faint and wobbled down to the floor on my ample, round rump. My phone had slid across the room and I could see a new spiderweb crack on the screen. Not wanting to risk another fall, I crawled over to get the phone, my belly and breasts swaying gently as I did, and called Reina to get the deets.

 

Six hours later, donning a blue satin evening gown with long black satin gloves and rhinestone-encrusted Cinderella shoes, and my custom-made tiara that Reina returned to me that evening, I got out of the car. I winced ever so slightly as the right side of my generous rump throbbed in pain from the day’s earlier fall.

 

“You ok?” Devon asked me innocently with what, I figured, had to be his expertly feigned concern… typical.

 

“Oh, fine, just… remembered a deadline.” I said flatly. Then, a little too enthusiastically, I added, “you know how it goes!” I wasn’t ready to have it out with him but under the surface my blood boiled.

 

“Yeah… sure do…” Devon seemed unsatisfied by my answer but it seemed that he didn’t want to get into it, either.

 

I saw him in a new light. He was always breezy and casual. He was a very handsome man, no one could deny it, but he wasn’t as successful in the industry as I had become. Handsome faces, it turns out, are a dime a dozen in this town. Maybe that’s why he worked so hard to keep me happy.

 

 

Chapter 2: A Good Cocking

 

I finally sucked it up a few weeks ago and bagged up the laundry piled in our guestroom that had been accumulating for 3 months. Somewhere in the middle of the pile, in the pocket of some of the bespoke pants that I had made for him, the ones that flattered his cock so nicely, I found a lacy thong that was much too small to be mine. I ventured a quick sniff- test… there was definitely something womanly and sexy going on with that very small thong. Based on my calculations and the location in the pile, I estimated that this thong slip-up took place about a month and a half ago. But… I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and push this incident out of my mind because… in basically every other way… he was really the perfect man. He was sexually attentive. He gave me massages and foot rubs, brought me flowers, seemed to love the taste of vagina and even anus, which I had never encountered in a man before! He cooked. He cleaned (except for laundry, unfortunately for him). But… I had been basically supporting him for the past 6 months. “Then again, wasn’t he really supporting me?” I often rationalized.

 

In the 6 months that he had been living with me, he had given me a total of 1 gift that wasn’t flowers. Not that I necessarily wanted to be showered with gifts and… until he was employed again… I didn’t really want him spending my money on gifts that he bought for me. The gift he got me was kind of a joke. My LA townhome had a fireplace, which was kind of ridiculous because they were basically never allowed to burn anything in the city because of the air pollution and, even if she was allowed to add smoke to the smog, it was never cold enough. We spent a November weekend in a Colorado Cabin on Air BnB to celebrate the 4 month anniversary of our first date. Kind of a random anniversary to celebrate but I had a short break between writing projects. The second night we were there, the temperature dropped, wind howled, and it snowed sideways. The quaint cabin was less than cozy and I decided that I wanted to build a fire in the fireplace. Devon told me that he’d be happy to do it but I told him that, by god, I was going to DO THIS and if he so much as lifted a finger I was going to kill him.

 

“Ok, ok, you can do it,” he laughed. “I’ll go do the manly thing and make our dinner while you work on that.”

 

I was, to be honest, in over my head. I did girl scouts for about 1 hot minute but never learned to build a fire. The cabin was so rustic that it had no wifi and my phone signal was bad. I didn’t know anything about the flue, how to open it, or why you’d want to do such a thing. I just stuck a gigantic log in the fireplace and held a lighter up to it, expecting it to catch.

 

At this point, wind whistled into the windows that were in need of a good caulking. I needed it to get warm in there so that I could get naked with this beautiful man, I needed a good cocking myself. I finally gave up, promised not to murder him in his sleep, and asked for help. “Good,” he told me, “your sailor’s cursing is making me blush.” He took the axe down from over the mantel that I had assumed was just decoration, grabbed the smallest, jankiest looking  dried out raggedy old log, in my opinion, and went outside to split the it into kindling. I watched from the window, wrapped in an electric blanket. Seeing him work that way with his hands really made me hot for him.

 

“Who knew you need an axe to build a fire?” I asked, giddily, after the fire was roaring and I was warmed my hands and feet by the flames.

 

“Who knew?” Devon said.

 

“You, sir, have earned a prize,” I announced as I slipped from the couch onto my knees on the floor. I reached over to his zipper and freed his already hot, erect penis. I cupped his balls gently with one hand and firmly held the base of his shaft with the other, like it was a tight little twat. My mouth went up and down on his hard dick with the hand, previously at the base, below my lips as I went up and down, up and down, up and down. I almost gagged a few times because his dick went all the way into the back of my throat. I held it together by clenching my kegel muscles and imagining that generous dick deep inside my vagina, smooshing my g-spot with each stroke. I gently massaged his balls and felt them contract when he came into my mouth in a blast of salty cum. My back was warm from the fire so I climbed in top of him, cowgirl-style and let him lie there, recovering as I grinded in him while squeezing my nipples with each hand. When he had recovered from his orgasm a few minutes later, he plunged himself deep inside me and that g-spot smooshing that I had fantasized about earlier turned me euphoric.

 

Later I told him, jokingly, “It was knowing to use the axe that earned you the BJ. Just thought you should know.”

 

“Noted!” he answered.

 

A week after our trip, he presented me with a long gifwrapped package, oddly heavy at one end. It was a small pink camping hatchet in with little purple flowers on the handle.

 

“To be honest,” he said with a wry grin, “I was hoping to get another blowjob out of this.”

 

“Oh you will,” I answered, “but don’t think that this lets you off the hook from your domestic servant slash sex slave role.”

 

“I wouldn’t think of it, m’lady.” That time, for the grand finale, I pushed my firm breasts together around his cock. My nipples were so hard you could have cut glass with them. He thrust to completion and came all over my tits. He leaned over, spread the cum all around my tits and sucked hard on my nipples, alternating from side to side.

 

After our lovemaking later that night, he hung the axe decoratively over the fireplace, where it has stayed ever since.

 

I thought of this time often and wondered if it bothered him, or maybe even threatened his manhood, to be called a domestic servant. There is nothing wrong with a domestic man, the dynamic seemed to work for us and his support helped launch my writing career even further than I thought possible. I led her own team of dedicated writers on 3 projects in the past year and another one with complete creative freedom lined up to start next month. Despite the support… I was a little anxious about his unemployment. It seemed that he had been unemployed the whole time we’d known each other- could that be right? Still, there were so many reasons that I did not want to let this lapse get in the way of what they had. I pushed it to the back of my mind and only thought of it sometimes, late at night when I was in one of my flirty, silky nightgowns in bed with him sleeping peacefully and innocently next to me. Some of those nights, he woke and ended my worrying with a caress from my neck, slipped under the soft, smooth fabric, down to my freshly alert nipple, which he gave a frisky tweak. He then followed this with a skilled hand between my thighs, slowly working his way up to the hood of my vulva, where my clit throbbed in anticipation. At that point it took just the lightest brush of contact to make me moan in ecstasy. Then, he lifted my hips like they were made of air and penetrated my awakened vagina from behind with his enormous, pulsing cock.

 

Any woman could understand why I might be living in denial to maintain perks like these.

 

 

Chapter 3 : An Oddly Vulva-Shaped Package

 

Since that text from Reina, I oscillated between disgust for myself and rage towards him. I should have known that he would be exactly what I expected when I first laid eyes on him. I fell for this tall man with arresting dark eyes and salt and pepper hair. I didn’t believe my luck when he had asked me out once and then again and again and again. From the very beginning he always loved my soft, voluptuous body, my full, heavy breasts, my sexy, fleshy hips, my big belly that I had been ashamed of for so long, my big, round behind. He had helped me love my own body. I did not want to give him up. But it just wasn’t right.

 

Well, I knew what I was going to do. My heart raced. In my blue satin dress, my nipples stood at attention at the thought of my revenge. I excused myself to go to the bathroom, to practice one more time and give myself a pep talk in the mirror.

 

There are always gift bags at these things. Usually they pass them out at the end of the event, but this time, for some reason, they distributed the gifts as we walked in the door. I opened the large, oddly vulva-shaped package in the bag and, to my surprise, inside was a hot pink vibrator with ribbing and a little clit stimulator at the base.

 

“Well, hello there…” I thought to herself. “Maybe this will help me release some… tension…” I had never seen this kind of vibrator before. I twisted the shaft and felt the handheld wireless device gently heat and then start to move. It was vibrating and thrusting simultaneously.  I quickly shimmied my mermaid skirt up, over her soft, dimpled thighs. I moved so fast that I heard a quick little ripping sound. “Damn.” I thought.

 

I tucked the bottom of the skirt between my large breasts. I hadn’t noticed before how the satin felt against my bare nipples, suddenly so sensitive and now visible through several layers of sleek fabric. Between my legs I felt warm and slippery and, just… delicious.

 

I looked into the mirror, gazing into the dark green eyes of the large, accomplished and coiffed woman in her sexual prime in front of me. With my thick, glossy brown hair swept into a french twist, the smooth slope of my neck looked… tasty. I could see why Devon always nestled into it with his lips, sucking and caressing as he gently cupped a breast. As I slipped the warm, pulsing vibrator in between my wet vaginal lips with one hand, I firmly planted the other hand on the countertop, my back arched, bracing myself.

 

Suddenly my phone, sitting on the counter, spider-web cracked screen-up, buzzed urgently. Devon had sent me a 911 message. The show was about to start. “Fuck. I guess this will have to wait,” I thought.

 

Without even thinking about it, I quickly ran the wet vibrator with my scent between my breasts, something I had never tried before, and then washed it in the sink, shimmied the mermaid skirt back down, packed up my gift bag,  and took a quick once-over in the mirror. My cheeks were flushed and I felt the blood still rushing to my engorged vulva. I quickly left the bathroom. Too preoccupied with the public shaming I had planned for Devon, I had forgotten about the ripping sound a few minutes earlier, and so forgot to check for where it was and if it was noticeable. Only later did I find out that there was a palm-sized heart-shaped hole in back, showing off the  top of my buttcrack.

 

I was already late but I was going to need a shot for that night. The bartender’s strawberry blond hair and sad brown eyes reminded me of an innocent crush from my teen years, a boy I was too shy, at the time, to ever approach. Just a fantasy man for late lonely nights with only my hands and my imagination to keep me company. That was long before my first date, let alone my first vibrator.

 

“I’ll take a double shot of Johnny Walker, please,” I said to the sexy young man. He gaped briefly at my cleavage and, leaning in ever so slightly, lingered in a long inhalation with a slight, almost unconscious, smile on his face. “Oh my gawd,” I realized, “he’s inhaling the scent of my pussy.” He quickly snapped out of the brief trance and recovered his professional air. “Yes, of course. On the rocks?” he asked.

 

I decided to fuck with him. “Oh yeah, just like that…” I said in my lowest, most sultry voice with a wink. He blushed 3 shades of crimson and, I gotta be honest, I felt a thrilling rush of power.

 

When I reached our table, I’m pretty sure that Devon noticed the scent of whiskey on my breath. He probably attributed my drinking to nerves- if so, he was correct, but not for the correct reasons.

 

I didn’t hear much leading up to my name, it was all just a dull roar, drowned out by the pounding of the blood in my ears. “Am I really going to do this??” I wondered.

 

“Peach McKinley…” the announcer said. They didn’t really have a spotlight for the event, it was just cameras, but I knew that they were all panning to me so I put on my spotlight face, stood, and walked to the stage.

 

“First,” I started off, “I would like to thank my boyfriend, Devon, who has always made me feel supported. He cooks and cleans, ladies and gentlemen. He gives massages, and really makes up for the fact that I have been supporting him financially for quite some time now.” I noticed when watching the rerun later that, at that point, the host jerked his head to look blankly at the side of my face as I went on,

 

“He is also very skilled, mmmm… manually, if you catch my drift. For these reasons, ladies and gentlemen, it saddens me to announce that we will no longer be a Hollywood *it* couple.  Today I found out that he’s been moonlighting with those manual skills, and as we have not discussed polyamory in any way shape or form, this is dishonesty, and I am too amazing to go on supporting an unfaithful liar.” Music keyed up and  drowned me out, I had more to say but I’m secretly grateful that they cut me off and escorted me backstage and away from the cameras.

 

 

Chapter 4: “Melody” Or Something

 

In the week that followed our very public break-up, there were copycat outings of male infidelity and other public breakups. I got props from those who had been burned by cheaters themselves and criticism from others. I even got a thinly-veiled, very believable death threat on twitter but the person was immediately identified and arrested so… I wasn’t too worried.

 

In fact, I was feeling elated, vindicated, recognized. It was a new angle on the #metoo movement. I felt like a powerful woman.

 

After that first week, though, the insomnia started creeping back. Devon left me several messages every day, alternating between sad and pathetic, telling me that he could explain everything if I just gave him a chance, to barely controlled anger, saying that I ruined his life and publicly humiliated him. I must have gotten a prepaid cell phone at the grocery store because I had cut off his service. I wondered where he was sleeping at night, probably at the willowy blond’s place. “Melody” or something.

 

He started harassing me about getting his stuff but I told him that I wasn’t going through it and he wasn’t getting it any time soon.

 

Despite the satisfaction in my public revenge, I found myself up more and more each night, feeling increasingly anxious, my muscles tense all night long in bed and sore and tired all day as I worked. My writing ideas were not flowing like they had been for so long.

 

When in doubt, I replayed the evidence that Reina laid out before me that day of the awards ceremony.

 

Reina had stopped by earlier that day to drop off a backpack of mine that I left at her house the prior weekend. Reina saw a rusty old blue subaru parked across the street. She had started seeing that subaru in the area more when she stopped by. Maybe it was a new neighbor who moved in? Seemed unlikely… the car was not a fit for the neighborhood. Come to think of it, she had seen a woman in the car a few times, fiddling around on her phone. The woman in the car had elegant bone structure, short blond hair, graceful lines. Reina probably wanted to meet this woman and fuck her brains out. That’s typical Reina.

 

Anway, Reina told me that she had brushed off thought of the blue subie and rang the bell. The front door at my townhome has a tall, narrow rectangular window next to it and from that window you could see about half of the place without even trying, my writing office to the left of the front door, the open kitchen to the right of the office, the hall that led to the bedrooms, and on the right side, the vaulted-ceiling living room. She joked to me every chance she got, “it’s like your townhome has her legs wide open to anyone who wants a peep show!” I always rolled my eyes and said in my best Rupaul, “Gurrr, you nasty,” but I admit that I should have gotten a treatment for that window a long time ago…. Like the week I moved in.

 

So, Reina could tell that Devon was home- she could hear a man’s voice coming from inside, muffled but unmistakably Devon. She thought she heard him say the name “Melody.” Then she heard another voice, a woman who sounded nothing like me. Reina had always been suspicious of Devon from the first time they met. I always wondered if it was because he flirted relentlessly with me when most men were drawn to Reina. Though Reina was not remotely interested in men, they liked her. A lot. She had a petite, athletic build with thick legs that she liked to show off in tight short shorts. She had perky little tits and I have heard men and women wax poetic about, and her ass was… well… fucking amazing and seemed to defy gravity. She was my besty for all of the other reasons that someone is a besty, but I could admit that she was very sexy. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a smart, successful writer in a competitive and glamourous industry. But men don’t typically drool over me like they do Reina. I have a salty, bitchy side but that’s mostly private and only seen by the people who know me very, very well. I am often mistaken as naive and easily fooled because of my apparent trusting nature and genuinely optimistic outlook, and, Reina and Devon tell me, my big green eyes, and dewy skin which make me seem like an innocent little baby. (“With a sailor’s mouth,” Devon alway used to add.)

 

So, back on my doorstep, Reina was about to ring the bell but stopped because she glimpsed a willowy woman crossing the hall towards the kitchen, wearing a very long men’s blue button-down shirt and, as it appeared, nothing else. It had to have been one of Devon’s shirts, Reina remembered a day shopping when I bought some clothes for Dev and I bought several shirts like that one because they were wrinkle-free. I liked to dress him up like he was my doll and he really didn’t seem to mind. The willowy blond crossed back across the hall and, as she did, she stopped, faced Reina, and made eye contact with her. She had an arresting stare and Reina realized, with a start, that it was the woman from the rusty blue Subaru. Her hair was messy but she really was beautiful. Something glistened in her hair. Maybe the woman didn’t see her? She just casually walked back to the master bedroom, she reached behind her back as she walked away, slipped her hand up, under the tail of the shirt to scratch her back. Reina saw a tanned, nicely shaped, and naked cheek peep out at her. When the woman was gone, Reina snapped out of her trance. “But… what was… she doing… “ Reina put it together slowly because, in her, typical-for-Reina, voyeuristic admiration, she was slow to recognize how out of place the woman was. “OMG , she was wearing Peach’s tiara!” Reina told me she realized later.

 

Reina moved to her left so as to stand right in front of the door, where she could only see the living room through the window, and rang the bell. No one came and she pushed the button again. She wasn’t sure what she was going to say and if no one answered the door she had already decided to call the police and then me. She could hear the blood pounding in her ears and feel her heart racing as she thought about this righteous confrontation.

 

Just as she was about to ring the bell a third time, Devon whipped the door open. He must have been fresh out of the shower, he was wearing fitted jeans with no shirt. He was still wet, tanned pectorals, abs, and toned arms glistening. Reina didn’t say all that but my imagination filled in some details.

 

“Oh, hey, Reins!” Devon said and leaned in for a hug.

 

“Oh, sorry, I’m uh sick,” she told him and probably coughed unconvincingly, “you really don’t want to hug me right now,” Reina’s always been good at excuses on the fly. She definitely did not want to be wrapped in those arms.

 

“Oh sure, yeah, I’m sorry to hear that… Hey, Peach’s at the spa, trying to calm her nerves for tonight, you know, getting ready for the awards thing.”

 

“Oh, awards thing, eh? Never heard of it.” Reina deadpanned, I guess I had been obsessing over this for about a year and it filled about 70% of my conversations with either of them. Well, with Dev it was 60% and the other 40% was dirty sexy talk.

 

“HA!” Devon’s annoying laughed explosively, startling and annoying Reina.

 

So Reina told him that I had called her on my way to the spa to ask her to pick up my tiara to go to the jewelers for a last-minute cleaning. Devon pushed back and tried to say that he would take care of it but Reina won and got the tiara, which is why she returned it to me later that day.

 

She told me that when she insisted on getting the tiara, Devon started into her eyes and she suddenly felt cold all over. He seemed dark and dangerous and a cloud crossed his face. That may have been true, it could have just been Reina’s penchant for the dramatic.

 

When Reina got to her car she popped the tiara box open to make sure everything looked right, which it did but there was a single, almost invisible, blond hair inside.

 

 

Chapter 5: A Little Anal

 

Every day after the breakup, Devon kept calling and calling. He emailed. He sent flowers. I responded to some of his attempts and ignored others. The message I was trying to communicate was- we’re through, leave me alone. I could not stop imagining that other woman was in my house, naked under the shirt I bought, wearing my stupid tiara. Reina helped me get the locks changed while we were at the awards ceremony. I shoved all signs of him into his closet, closed the door, and pushed a dresser in front of it. I ordered a bunch of toys online, delivered in discreet, unmarked brown boxes, to fill the sexual vacancy left in my life. I started reading erotic fiction every night with the hopes that my body would wake up again but… it still wasn’t the same as his warm body next to mine, his strong arms around me, his dextrous tongue… well, you get the picture. I had to stop thinking about him but it was next to impossible.

 

One evening after a particularly shitty day making no progress with my writing teams, I opened a new package that I ordered- it was a suction/vibration-type thing with a little mouth to go on my clit and some organic coconut oil lube that I read about online. I wanted to try the suction thing and then try the lube with that thrusting vibrator that came in the goodie bag at the awards ceremony a few weeks before. That had been the last time I had gotten wet on my own. I slipped into my silky lavender nightgown, the elegant one cut on the bias that clung lovingly to my breasts, belly, and round butt. Then the doorbell rang. I thought maybe it was that “supplement” that Reina had told me about on the dark web. By this time, I had gotten a temporary blind for the window so I couldn’t see the delivery person. I opened the door, and there was Devon, looking at me pleadingly with a plate of chocolate covered strawberries and what looked like an erection through his snug pants.

 

“I always loved that nightgown, Peach,” he said quietly. Despite my anger, it was erotic to hear him say my name in that low, breathy deep voice. It’s always been a weakness of mine.

 

“Don’t.” I said, closed the door, and locked the deadbolt. I really tried, I really did.

 

The sight of him at this moment made me angry… but also… aroused. I leaned against the door and slid down.

 

“Peach, I want to touch your body,” I heard him whisper through the door. I cupped my breast the way he used to, and pinched the nipple, hard, sending a tingling sensation down my body to my clit. I suddenly felt my juices flooding in, and my vaginal lips felt warm, slippery, and velvety. I reached down to stroke just a little.

 

“It took him to feel this way again,” I thought. I really thought that I needed him.

 

I slipped a finger into myself and he said,  “I want to taste you, baby. I want to feel your stiff nipples in my mouth. Please, please give me a chance. I want you. I can make you feel good like I used to…”

 

I’m not proud, I just couldn’t take it anymore. I flung the door open and he nearly fell onto me.

 

“Just for tonight,” I said firmly, “and you’re not sleeping here. AND Reina is picking me up tomorrow for brunch and if she sees you here she will cut your thing off, do you understand me?”

 

“Peach, I understand… Peach… I want you… Peach.” I think he knew what he was doing. I was more and more aroused with each time he said my name.

 

“You can have me,” I told him. “But just for tonight.”

 

He grabbed my waist, turned me around, and dropped to his knees. He ran his hands from the back of my heels, up my calves and hamstrings, and cupped my butt. He ran his tongue up and down my crack and I involuntarily clenched my buttcheeks and vagina with desire and anticipation.

 

I reached my hand down between my legs again but he pushed my hand away and ran his fingers up between my vaginal lips to my clit, massaging. He stuck his thumb into her vagina, still stroking my clit with his index finger and then he squeezed his hand and it was all I could do to stay standing. He used his other hand to pull me towards him at the hip and he shoved his face between my buttocks and caressed my anus with his tongue. I moved my hands up to my breasts, which filled my hands, I could feel my heart beating and my nipples were harder than they had been in weeks.

 

“Get your cock inside me,” I whispered, panting with desire.

 

“How do you feel about a back door entry, baby?” he asked sweetly.

 

“Enter wherever you want, just enter me,” I told him as I got down on my knees. My belly and breasts hung pleasantly and I loved the way my ass felt, exposed to him.

 

Devon gently ran his hand between my vaginal lips once more and then spread the natural lubricant on his throbbing penis. I gasped as he thrust his hot phallus into my anus. I had never tried it this way before and it felt… brilliant.

 

Devon started off, pumping gently. “Does this feel ok, Peach?” My nipples twinged at hearing my name again.

 

“Yes, not much harder but deeper if you can.” He slowly slid the length of himself in and, once he was fully inside me, he made small pelvic thrusts upwards as much as he could to stimulate my g-spot. I could feel his head getting there through the walls of my anatomy and my whole body tensed up in euphoria. I could feel my clit as though it were another appendage, fully erect. I had a moment of pure nothingness in my head, in the world, I was not on my hands and knees on the floor next to my front door with a man’s penis up my asshole, I was everywhere, nowhere. I was everything, nothing.  And the orgasm was over. A flood of relief and relaxation washed over me, through every cell in my body,  from the top of my head, all the way down. Devon was not finished yet but he was close.

 

“You can go faster now, it doesn’t hurt, you can finish,” I told him. He thrust once more and his extremities twitched as he came. I imagined his eyes rolling back in the ecstatic agony of orgasm.

 

We lay on the floor, sweaty and tired, not touching. “I was thinking… we could have another go?” he said.

 

“At the sex?” I verified cautiously.

 

“Yes, Peach,” he said slowly, “at the sex.”

 

“Well then, yes, definitely, but not before you take a shower and brush your teeth.”

 

“Agreed,” he said… then, awkwardly… “I don’t have a toothbrush, do I?”

 

“It’s still here.”

 

We fucked 3 more times that night. In the shower (Devon brushed his teeth before getting in the shower); in the kitchen table after having a snack, and in bed. I enjoyed the feel of his cock in my hands, and other places. It was like old times again.

 

 

Chapter 6: Something Extra

 

Two nights before our reconnection, I found out later, Reina met a very interesting woman who she hoped could help set things right for me. Interesting was… well… to say the least. Reina could see the struggle that I had been going through since my breakup with Devon. She knew that Devon had been persistent in trying to reconnect with me and that my doubts of his guilt were budding. Without an interesting new someone, or actual proof, or both, it would be only a matter of time before I let Devon back into my life. REina knows me better than I know myself.

 

Jane had a very unassuming ad in the local alternative paper. She was a PI with something extra going for her. Reina was curious about what this “something extra” might be. She scheduled a meeting, in a dark corner of a public place at Jane’s request. When they met, Reina wa blown away by Jane’s understated yet raw sex appeal. She was, first off, an amazon woman with long and strong tree trunk legs. Jane was dressed simply in jeans, a simultaneously loose and clinging white and black striped tee, and a fitted leather jacket. She wore clear slingback heels and her manicured toes peeped out from the open ends. The horizontal stripes of her shirt rested softly on her large, pendulous breasts and she had an extra long golden chain that fell between them, weighed down by a golden heart-shaped medallion with a suggestive organically-shaped hole in the center, it was very sexy. She had long, thick auburn hair and thick side-swept bangs that almost covered her right eye. Her hands were large and a little pudgy, neat and also manicured. With her gorgeous brown peepers, she was a doe-eyed beauty.

 

Jane sat down in the flimsy bent-cane bistro chair in the dark corner, as requested, of the wine bar that Reina and I liked to frequent. “You must be Reina,” Jane said flatly.

 

“Great. Jane is plain,” Reina thought. For all her amazonian beauty and sex appeal, she seemed to be completely lacking in personality, Reina told me. “Maybe she’s not as interesting as advertised.” Reina thought. She couldn’t have been more wrong.

 

“So, what’s the something extra that you have in your ad?” Reina asked.

 

“Well,” Jane answered seriously, “it’s very unusual and can attract… the wrong kind of people… I have found. Let’s talk about your case first and, if I think I can help you, I will disclose that extra thing that I bring to the table.”

 

“Huh. Ok,” Reina said. “Well…” and Reina launched into the story of our friendship, and my relationship with Devon.

 

“Wait, are we talking about THE Peach McKinley?” Jane interrupted.

 

“Yep, that’s the one.”

 

“Ok, I think I can help you. May I have permission to touch your breast?” Jane asked to Reina’s puzzlement and, most likely, a little bit to her excitement.

 

“Um, I guess, I don’t really understa-” Jane reached across the table and held Reina’s small, athletic breast in her palm.

 

“Oh…” Reina said as she felt her nipples pop out at attention under Jane’s gentle hold. “I hope this woman is a lesbian,” she thought, but her thoughts were interrupted with a flashback of the fun she had earlier that morning with… “what’s her name,” Reina called her, someone she picked up at a bar the previous night. She saw the woman’s head down between her legs and felt the pleasure of what’s-her-name’s warm, wet tongue on her clit once again, as if it was happening right at that moment.

 

Jane pulled her hand away and Reina realized that her jagged breathing and arched back gave her away as on the crest of an orgasm. “How very bizarre,” she thought, “Was this the ‘extra thing?’”

 

“So… do you remember her name, Reina?” Jane asked with a wry grin on her face. Her whole presence had changed. She seemed, more there. She had transformed for the stiff beauty to a sexy, warm soft mammal in the time that she had been holding Reina’s sweet little tit.

 

Reina told me that she blushed and stammered. “I… don’t… know…”

 

Then, Jane amazed her by telling her that it was a girl named Annabelle George. She had told Reina that she lives in Huntington Beach but she was really here from Nevada, visiting her sister who doesn’t know she’s gay.

 

Reina was an instant believer.

 

 

Chapter 7: The Amazing Jane

 

So, back to the night of my “affair” with Devon. I TOLD him that he couldn’t spend the night, but still, I woke up in his arms. We had both conveniently forgotten my commandment. We were awakened by Reina’s honking outside my townhome.

 

“Oh shit, Reina’s here!” I shouted. “Dev, get up, get up, you have to go! She can’t see you here!”

“I’m beginning to think that your friends don’t like me,” Devon said dryly.

 

“Oh shut up, you need to go out the back, through the garage!” I told him.

 

He tried insisting that he wanted to get his stuff but I told him that he could come back in the evening to get it.

 

Reina is almost always late and when I got in the car she informed me that our brunch reservation was in 30 minutes and the restaurant was a 40 minute drive. Gahhh Reina. Gahhhh LA.

 

“We’re meeting someone there,” she told me, “and I don’t think she’s ever late to anything so… she’ll probably grab the table for us.”

 

“Someone, eh?” I asked, “Do you happen to know… her name?”

 

“Oh, it’s Jane.” Reina told me. “I can’t tell if she’s interested in me or not but… you’ll see. She’s a beautiful, thick amazon woman and she’s amazing.”

 

“Amazing… in the sack?” I asked.

 

“Just amazing,” Reina said. I would soon find out what she meant.

 

We made it to breakfast just 10 minutes late and, as Reina predicted, Jane was there, at our table, waiting for us.

 

“I can’t wait to hear what you think of her,” Reina whispered to me as we approached the table.

 

“Peach, I would like to introduce you to Jane, a new… friend of mine.”

 

Jane sat stiffly at the table. I leaned towards her and stretched out my hand to Jane for a shake. I had the strangest moment when we shook hands. I had a brief, vivid flashback to a moment the previous night when I was gripping Devon’s erect penis in the same hand.

 

I excused myself to go to the ladies’ and asked them to order me a coffee and a bottomless mimosa. Jane seemed warmer, more human and present after our handshake, like a different person even.

 

As I made my way through the crowded restaurant, I could feel my big round behind swaying with jiggles punctuating each step. It was something that I used to be kind of embarrassed about but have found that some people quite like it.

 

Reina told me later that she asked Jane what she thought and Jane answered, “Well, we might have a problem…you said you’re afraid that she might go back to her ex?” When Reina nodded, Jane went on, “Well, either she has a very realistic dildo or she was with someone last night…”

 

“Damn… it could go either way,” Reina mused. “She has a huge dildo collection, but… she does seem to have a rosier glow today than she’s had for weeks… God I hope it wasn’t Devon,” she told Jane.

 

Jane told her that they needed to first try to earn my trust and then go from there. She warned Reina that, “Some people don’t want to know the truth.”

 

Then Reina asked Jane if she wanted to touch her ass real quick and Jane answered with a suppressed smile, “Come on, Reina, now is not the time for that.”

 

When Peach I got back to the table, my coffee and mimosa were waiting for me. The menu at this brunch place was simple but enticing. We ordered a plate of thick-cut honey-cured bacon to share. I got the Monte Cristo sandwich with marionberry jam and and two different flavors of heated maple syrup. Jane ordered a pulled pork hash with hollandaise sauce, crispy shoestring potatoes, and a fruit compote. Reina got a giant bowl of steel-cut oats with cream, brown sugar, dried fruit, nuts, and a grilled peach with ricotta cheese nestled in its natural bowl.

 

“I could eat a peach for hours,” she said in her creepiest Nicolas Cage voice, which made me laugh. When Jane stared at us in puzzlement, Reina told her, “It’s from face/off. Peaches went through a Nicolas Cage phase in high school and made me watch all of the movies with her.”

 

“Ah.” Jane said and smiled.

 

Reina pointed out how gross the breakfast pizza sounded and, with perfect timing, a man at a table near us, very loudly, ordered the breakfast pizza. We all laughed, turning heads of other patrons who were annoyed by our raucous good time but the man who ordered the BP didn’t seem to notice. When it came out, Reina whispered to us, “It looks like vomit focaccia!” and we busted out laughing all over again.

 

“So Peaches… how’s single life going?” Reina asked me.

 

I didn’t want to admit to what had gone on the night before so I said, “oh, you know, no action since that lying little shit,” which was technically true.

 

“And when was that?” Reina pressed.

 

I paused. Did she know something? “Oh… I think it’s been, what? 3 weeks?”

 

“Hmmmm…” Reina responded, “are you sure about that?” I rolled my eyes pointedly at Reina. Sometimes she just didn’t know when to let up.

 

By this time, I was on my 4th mimosa refill.

 

“So, Jane,” I started, slurring slightly, “I can’t believe I haven’t asked you yet, forgive me! What do you do?”

 

“I’m a private investigator,” Jane answered.

 

“Wow! That sounds kind of… amazing. Is it?”

 

“Yes, I definitely love my work,” Jane said.

 

“Ok, time to show off your skills,” I said, “what have you noticed about me?”

 

“Well… I can tell that you are recovering from something traumatizing and a bit depressing,”

 

“Ahhh, yes, I’m sure Reina brought you up to speed on that whole debacle… if you didn’t already see it on TV, that is… ” I answered.

 

“You are feeling lonely lately,” Jane continued.

 

“Yep, there’s a hole in the bed where he laid,” I drunkenly sang part of my response from an old Joan Baez song.

 

“You are a very loyal friend,”

 

“Mmmm hmmmm…”

 

“And mostly honest.”

 

Mostly, eh?” I was having fun, “Go on Janey, don’t hold back now… do tell! What have I been lying about?”

 

“Well, I… don’t know how much of this you want to hear but… something tells me that that hole was filled last night.”

 

I sobered up slightly. How did she know? How could she know? I thought she was testing me, to see what she could get from my reaction.

 

“Nope, just a cold, empty… dry… hole… In the bed, that is.” I forced a laugh and tried to act good-natured but I’m not a very good liar.

 

“Peaches. She knows,” Reina finally said.

 

“What… did you HIRE a PI to SPY on me?” I kind of yelled, turning heads in the restaurant again.

 

“No, no, it’s hard to explain,” Reina said, “Just… is it ok if she touches you somewhere intimate? Like, your boob or maybe even just your neck?”

 

“This is ridiculous but… ok, here touch the left one.” I sat up tall, twisted my ribs, and presented my left breast for touching.

 

Jane reached her hand up and held my breast in her hand. Her hand was warm and her hold was gentle and supportive.

 

Reina told me later that I suddenly got a faraway look in my eyes. I arched my back and felt Devon’s hand on my left breast, his dick inside me, thrusting, his other hand holding a small vibrator against my clit. Jane released my breast and most of the sensations evaporated, I was back in the restaurant again, more than a little hot, more than a little bothered.

 

“How… is that possible?” I asked, my face was flushed, my nipples were hard, my panties were warm and moist.

 

“My dear… I wish I knew.” Jane answered simply, sadly, but warmly, looking into my eyes with compassion and a little embarrassment, probably for having seen so much more of me than I knew at the time.

 

“Have you always had this… ability?” I asked.

 

“It started when I was 18 and… just… never went away. It’s ruined almost all of my relationships,” Jane told me, “But I’ve been able to use it to build a business so… I guess it’s not all shit,” she said sadly.

 

“So… that was a very intense experience for me, but… what do you see when that happens? What do you experience?” I asked.

 

“Right? That’s what I’ve been trying to figure out!” Reina piped up. These are the questions that Reina had, apparently, spent the previous night trying to get to the bottom of. She was exhausted but it sure had been fun.

 

“Well, I can see a lot… a lot more than you can, in fact. I can see things about the people you have been with, things that you don’t even know yourself… sometimes things they don’t even know about themselves.”

 

“So you’re kind of like… a psychic?” I asked.

 

“Better!” Reina said, “a SEXUAL PSYCHIC!” The man who ordered the breakfast pizza gaped at us. “Sorry, that was too loud,” Reina mumbled.

 

“Kind of,” Jane said. “I prefer sensual psychic.”

 

I told Jane that I was intrigued but also kind of afraid to touch her.

 

“Yeah…” Jane answered, “That’s a pretty typical reaction. It’s weird how I seem to attract all the  creeps, fetishists, liars, and commitment-phobes,” Jane continued.

 

“Hey!” Reina objected.

 

“Ok, well… it seems like you’re an exception… so far. But you have to admit that you are kind of pervy….”

 

“I’ll give you that!” Reina laughed and Jane and I joined in.

 

“Ok, so… I’m not clear,” I said, “is something going on between you two or is it just professional?”

 

“Can’t it be both?” Reina asked, smiling from ear to ear.

 

“We met because Reina responded to my ad. She seems like a sex and love addict and I’m a self-destructive masochist so…” Jane had a very deadpan way of talking and it was… actually pretty funny.

 

“HEY!” Reina objected again.

 

“Ok, well, I’m too much of an adult to put a label on what we have right now but… it’s more professional and… it’s something. So let’s enjoy it and leave it at that for now.”

 

“Sounds good,” I agreed. Reina looked slightly hurt… but not too badly.

 

“So…” I continued, “I guess you guys didn’t believe me line about ‘it’s been 3 weeks’…”

 

“Nope.” Reina said as Jane shook her head, looking apologetic.

 

“Well, here’s the deal,” and I told them about my dry spell and how persistent Devon has been and the way he showed up on my doorstep at a very weak, and very horny moment.

 

“I know he’s bad news,” I concluded, “but no one has ever made me feel this way before. In bed he’s nothing short of amazing and… most of the time… he makes me feel good about myself. I’ve never had that with anyone before and I’m afraid that, without him, I’ll never have it again.” I reached up to wipe a tear from my eye.

 

“There’s someone I’d like to introduce you to,” Jane said, “I can’t make any promises but… I think she might be able to help you.”

 

We stayed at that breakfast joint well into the afternoon as Jane and Reina coached me.

 

“The first thing you need to do,” Jane told me, “is clear out every sign of him from your home. Reina will come over and help you with this step. You’ll need someone to lean on and to shit with when the need arises. She’ll be good at keeping you on task, too.”

 

“Ha, ya think?” Peach joked.

 

“Yes… Reina is very… assertive,” Jane said, as if to herself.

 

“You need to personally confront him to clear up any “what if” possibilities that may come up. Reina and I will both be there with you or that. Then, you and I will go through the process that we discussed already.” I was a little nervous about that process, a little excited, too. I thought that this might be my chance to get a taste of being with a woman… who knows, I wondered… maybe that’s where life would take me next. Basically, Jane was going to touch me all over and relive my sexual past with me.

 

“The most important thing to do right now, though,” Jane continued, “Is to commit to the process. You will need to recommit to the process every day. Every time you have even the smallest success you need to reward yourself and celebrate, that will make the process and recommitting to it each day, more and more effortless as you move along. I will call you every morning for the first 3 weeks to help you with your daily commitment renewal.”

 

“I’m committed, I’m committed,” I told them.

 

“OK, let’s get started with clearing the shit out today,” Reina proposed.

 

“Deal!” I said. I had totally, totally forgotten that Devon was coming by that evening to get his things.

 

 

Chapter 8: House Cleaning

 

On our way home, Reina and I stopped to pick up boxes and trash bags. Reina was psyched that I was finally going to really and truly give Devon the boot. I was grateful that she had found Jane who could help clear up what was truth and what was not. And I could relive all of my hot sex with Dev… without Dev!

 

We  pushed the dresser away from Devon’s closet. For all the cooking and cleaning the man did around the house, his closet was a nightmarish pile of clothes, random receipts and pocket linty kinds of things.

 

“God, I can’t believe I bought so much for him,” I sighed.

 

“Me either!” Reina laughed and I punched me lightly in the arm, also laughing.

 

We sorted through the things I bought back when I dressed him up as my doll. His shoes, slacks, jeans, ironic t-shirts, underwear-

 

“Dude, let’s just throw all of this away, man. Nobody needs these nasty drawers in their lives. They got bad juju,” Reina said. She put one the the garbage bags over her hands and breathed through her mouth as she stuffed all Devon’s underwear into the main garbage bag as quickly as possible. I could not stop laughing.

 

Once all of Devon’s clothes were sorted for trash or donation, the closet was mostly empty, save for a U-Haul brand file box in the back corner. “Oh that’s one of the few things he actually brought with him into the relationship,” I told Reina, “I should probably return it to him.”

 

“Well… let’s take a peek inside first,” Reina said mischievously.

 

“No, Reins, I really don’t need to know what’s in there. It’s probably worthless crap anyway.”

 

“I’m goin’ in,” Reina said and she slipped the lid off of the cardboard box. Inside was a pile of papers and, alarmingly, several passports. Reina opened the first three and looked at them- no evidence of much travel but… “shit,” she said, “this dude has aliases!”

 

“Peaches, you need to see this,” she said in a low voice.

 

“What is it?” I asked.

 

“Just come look.”

 

Inside, we found passports, birth certificates, and social security cards showing that he had been maintaining 4 different identities. We found handwritten notes from the woman named Melody. One letter chillingly said, “It sounds like you have a real nice setup with this fat woman for now. I can’t wait to be with you finally. Just the two of us. No more of that bossy bitch.” Reina was furious, she looked over at me. I shook my head in disbelief,  tears streaming down my face. Even though I knew he had lied to me it was still hard to believe what we were finding.

 

“I… just… don’t know what to say.” I said.

 

“Fuck him, Peaches, look what I found under the paperwork,” she pulled out a box that was already opened, inside was an almost perfect replica of my tiara. “I’m calling the police. This is some scary shit,” Reina said.

 

Reina guided me out of the room to the kitchen for a glass of ice water first and a few shots of vodka second. We wondered out loud what Devon had been planning. The police officer was supposed to stop by in the next 20-40 minutes.

 

After I had my shots, and Reina had some too, “to be supportive, hey it’s what friends do,” we headed over to the couch “to watch something funny and stupid,” Reina said. “If it’s stupid it must not be one of my scripts,” I joked. As the were walking from the kitchen to the living room, the doorbell rang.

 

 

Chapter 9: Oh Shit!

 

“Oh that’s gotta be the cop,” Reina said and went to open the door with me following behind.

 

It wasn’t the cop, it was Devon, of course, and he was holding a bouquet of yellow daisies.

 

“Oh no you don’t,” Reina started, but he cut her off.

 

“Reina, this isn’t about you. Peach, I need you. I know you want to take me back after last night.” Behind Reina, I just stood there, speechless and crying again.

 

“I love you so much and I will do anything to win you back,” Devon said with sad eyes, extending the daisies out towards me and holding his right hand to his heart as he spoke.

 

“You lost your chance, Devon, it’s over,” Reina told him firmly.

 

“No, I need—” Devon began but I cut him off.

 

“I cleaned out your closet today, Dev. I found your box, your passports, everything.” I told him

 

“That’s right,” Reina said, “and you would be wise to leave NOW,” Reina told him.

 

Devon’s whole demeanor changed.

 

“OK, BITCH,” he shouted at Reina, “did I say that this was about you? No I did not. In fact, I seem to remember saying that it’s NOT about you.” He shoved Reina forcefully aside.

 

Reina was strong and athletic but petite and Devon had a good 100 pounds and 16 inches on her, he overpowered her effortlessly. He pushed her aside like it was nothing and then punched her in the face so forcefully that Reina fell to the ground, unconscious.

 

He walked inside, closed the door, and locked the dead bolt. I just stood there, dumbfounded, I think, not fully registering what was happening.

 

“Baby, I could have explained everything to you if you gave me a chance but… I can’t forgive you for going through my private things. You had NO RIGHT to do that.” Devon said in a creepy, low voice. His face was expressionless but I could tell that he was furious.

 

“You’re leaving me with no choice, Peach. I thought you were a good one but it turns out you’re just another bitch like the rest of them.” He spat the words hatefully like they were venom coming from his mouth. I could not believe that this was the same man who she had lived with for 6 months.

 

“Devon, the police are coming,” I told him, “Reina is right, you should go.”

 

“Not without my things,” he said. He threw the daisies on the floor and crushed them with his worn out dress shoe. The shoe I bought for him. It must have been the shoes he wore to the awards ceremony when I kicked him out. He started walking briskly down the hall.

 

“No, Devon, you really should go now,” I pleaded with him as I followed him down the hall. “They are going to be here soon.” I hoped that this would scare him into leaving. I didn’t know what this terrifying stranger was going to do next.

 

“I told you, bitch,” he said in that eerily controlled, low voice, “that I am not leaving without my things.”

 

He whipped around to face me. I suddenly regretted following him down the hall. He grabbed me by the neck with both hands and shoved me against the closed door to the master bedroom at the end of the hall. “And another thing, BITCH,” he added, “you are too fucking fat, you are so fucking fat I’m disgusted just thinking about the things I did to you.” I was running out of air. I was about to try kneeing him in the groin when I heard a wet “smack” sound. Devon gasped briefly and fell forward, totally limp,  onto my body. I shimmied away from him and he fell, face first, onto the carpet. There was the small pink hatchet, with little purple flowers on the handle, lodged in his skull. Reina stood behind him, her eye puffy and swollen, blood and brains splattered on her face, in her hair, on her hands, and on her white shirt.

 

The doorbell rang.

 

Chapter 10: Sexual Healing

 

It was easy for the police to identify who was at fault and the city attorney griped to the press that, with the #metoo movement, the public breakup, and my growing celebrity, he was not going to convince any jury to convict Reina. They wrote it off as self defense and didn’t prosecute.

 

I continued with my healing process, as prescribed by Jane. That one part of the process was very painful, as I feared, and also very fun, as I suspected it might be. After that part of the process, Jane wrote up a report of my sexual past, delights and traumas and sent me on to the next stage in the healing journey to work with a therapist specializing in- conveniently- body issues, infidelity, and sexual healing.

 

I even met a nice guy soon after. Well, we had actually met before. He was the young bartender with strawberry blond hair and sad eyes. He saw me in a coffee shop, one Saturday morning. I was sweaty and felt gross but energized because I had just finished a 3 mile walk, which was progress for me. I was wearing old yoga pants and an over-sized  boatneck t-shirt. The young bartender, Noah, approached me respectfully and nervously asked if he could join me at my table. I didn’t realize it was him until I said sure and he blushed 3 shades of crimson. Then he asked me out. We agreed to take it slow on our second date but then played out a shared bad-school-girl-in-the-principal’s-office fantasy later that night. I don’t take all of my new therapist’s advice, designed to protect me from pain. If you’re going to live, you’re going to feel pain. Plus, some pain is fun, like getting spanked by the principal’s paddle. Whack!