David had dressed carefully tonight. A green crew-necked jersey, half a size too small, accented his physique. It stretched across his broad shoulders and clung happily to his chest. He wore it tucked in to faded, tight blue jeans softened by years of washing. His legs were stretched out under the table, and his boot-clad feet were crossed at the ankles. The herringbone sport coat he had topped the whole thing off with was draped on the back of his chair as he waited for her to arrive.

Jennifer thought this whole month had just been surreal. Early in the month, she got an email, several in fact, from friends telling her that one of her 'Richie' stories had been excerpted on the band's website. She had been mortified, and immediately went on to ask the mods to remove the post. They didn't.

She got lots more hits on her website after that, and she was horrified to see the tracker had several dozen different IP addresses tracked in New Jersey. She refused to even consider what that could mean, and after a couple of days, Jennifer forgot all about it. She actually berated herself for her inflated ego. Of course they wouldn't make a big deal about it. Ignore it, and it goes away. Call attention to it, and it becomes a big deal. Besides, they didn’t have the time or the inclination to read that stuff, right?

A week ago, she got a call from a friend-of-a-friend, saying that he had submitted her resume for a job in New Jersey, and that they wanted to meet her. She was surprised but touched that her friends were looking out for her, knowing she hated her current job, and would relocate anywhere to be away from it . When she found out that the job was for Bon Jovi Management, she told her friend forget it. There was no way she could do that. She was a fan for Christ's sake. A vocal one. They are very careful to keep the over-zealous fans away from the day-to-day lives of the band. And besides, even if she did get the job, she'd never be able to be professional around them.

Her friend Paul had laughed, “But you're a computer geek, Jennifer," he'd said, making her laugh too. "Doesn't that mean you're a Borg or something? No emotions, no lust..."

"That's computer Goddess, Paul," she corrected, "and no it doesn’t. Not at all."

“You a chicken then?” he asked, knowing that would push her buttons.

It did.

Jennifer agreed to go to Jersey to meet someone for the interview, figuring it couldn't hurt to meet with someone and see what the job was all about. Besides, if they kept the techno-geeks in the sub-basement or something like most organizations did, the chances of her running into any of THEM and making an ass of herself went down dramatically.

So, she took a room in Newark for the night, and arrived early. She had a chance to shower off the travel ick and dress to impress. She wore her best black Armani suit; its straight skirt settling a full three inches above her whisper-sheer stocking-covered knees. The fitted jacket hung open, showing a pale peach scoop-necked silk shell, and a delicate strand of pearls around her neck. Her hair was in an elaborate up-do, piled artfully atop her head and four-inch Jimmy Choos brought her height up over six feet.

She had applied minimal makeup; the summer months having been good to her in the tanning department, and with a last critical look in the full-length mirror, she left her room. In the lobby, the doorman hailed a cab for her. She settled into the back of the car and made the trip across town.

Jennifer had arrived at the restaurant ten minutes early, and gave her name. "Your dinner companion is already here," the hostess informed her with a smile. Jennifer was led through the dimly lit restaurant to a table tucked in the back. She stopped dead when she saw the back of a man's head. Those glorious golden curls had her doing a double-take. She shook her head slightly, chagrined to find that she had the band on the brain. Clearly, sub-basement or not, this would never work out, but at least she'd get a good dinner out of it.

Then the stood and turned to her, and all the blood drained from her face. For a moment, she thought she was going to pass out, but she recovered somewhat and pasted on a sickly smile.

David had smiled widely at her distress, then got a good look at her, and his smile faded. This was not what at all what he expected. She was beautiful, well and expensively dressed, and seemed really put out that she wasn't meeting with someone else. They introduced themselves to each other, shook hands, had settled in to their seats to give their drink orders: Jack and Coke for him, ice water with lemon for her. They made idle chit-chat while Jennifer worked really hard not to throw up.

He considered the woman across from him as they talked. When David started on this little lark, to his friends' unanimous disapproval, it was with the intention of making her feel uncomfortable and humiliated. Sure, they all knew there were fiction writers, and more than once, one or another of the guys would come across one that made them really REALLY glad they chose this particular kind of work. They even, some of them anyway, bookmarked some of the sites to read when they had alone time.

This time, though, it was different. The story bit, in all its dirty glory (he had to grudgingly admit that though Rich was the character in the story, the writing was hot) was posted on their main, family-friendly message board. In the back of his head, David felt sure that this woman did it on purpose, to get her name out there. So, he had come up with an elaborate ruse to meet her, and she came. Reluctantly, he was surprised to learn, but still here she was all the same.

David waited until the waitress had left with their dinner orders to make his move. "So I understand you're a storyteller," he said.


David’s blue eyes twinkled and sparkled as they caught the low lights of the restaurant. He needed to jump right into the reason for this dinner – he was starting to forget this wasn’t a date. "So I understand you're a storyteller," he said again, when the woman didn’t respond the first time.

Jennifer nearly choked on her drink. Jesus, he knew?

"What does that have to do with the job?" she blurted, then groaned under her breath. Any hope of later denial had now flown out the window. The right response would have been “Huh?” She didn't really want to think about the implications of that question, but she couldn’t help it. Her face colored, but she found she couldn't tear her eyes away from the man sitting across from her. David just looked at her, with a self-satisfied smirk creeping across his face, and something clicked in Jennifer’s head. “There is no job, is there?”

David shook his head. “Nope.” He should be quite pleased with himself for pulling off this ruse and getting her to all but admit she was one of those fan fiction writers, so why now did he feel bad about her discomfort?

Jennifer just stared at him. “Just what the hell is going on here?” she asked David, anger creeping into her voce.

“You know exactly what is going on,” he countered, startled at her show of backbone.

Jennifer rolled her eyes. “Who the hell do you think you are? You’re screwing me around here. I don’t take that from people I know, never mind people I’ve just met.” She stood and gathered her purse, opening it to take money from it. She placed some bills on the table next to her drink. “That ought to cover my dinner.” Her voice was soft but strong; no less powerful for the low volume. “I won’t say it’s been a pleasure,” she said, her brown eyes hard and cold.

She started to walk past him, but David stilled her with a hand on her arm. Jennifer looked at his hand then into his face, and with a deadly edge to her soft voice said, “Get your fucking hand off of me. Now.”

He snatched his hand back like she had bit it. "Don't go," he said. "Please."

"Why on earth would I want to stay?" Jennifer was way past mad, and was perilously close to full-out pissed off. She did not want to be pissed off in this crowded restaurant. She got loud and cursed like a sailor when she got pissed off. She took a deep breath, choking back the words, “You’re a fucking idiot” before they could escape. "I don’t particularly care for the dinner conversation, and if there’s no job in the offing, then this has been a colossal waste of my time and money.” She narrowed her gaze. “I don’t appreciate being played with.”

“Please, sit down,” David said, and something in his eyes made her want to do it.

“Shit,” she said, and did as she was asked. The animosity was wafting off of Jennifer like her sweet, peach-scented perfume.

David toyed with his glass and took a long drink. This wasn’t going at all the way he had hoped it would. In his head, he had confronted her with her alter ego, made her see that she could write all the ‘no offense intended’ disclaimers she wanted, it still didn’t make it right. In his head, she got all embarrassed, and flustered. If he was honest with himself, that’s as far as it went in his head – the woman running from the restaurant all upset. She was ready to do just that, so why in the hell did he stop her?

Somewhere between their stilted introductions and the arrival of their drinks, however, he suddenly didn’t really want to just confront her anymore. He wanted to charm her, not annoy her. What the hell was the matter with him? Giving his leg a pinch to snap himself out of his reverie, David spoke to her in a low tone, trying to turn things back to the way he originally intended. “Look, I’m going to cut to the chase here, Hath,” he said, emphasizing her penname. He didn’t take any pleasure in the pall that fell over her as he busted her out. In his head, he’d been crowing like mad.

“Oh my sweet Jesus,” Jennifer whispered.

The waitress chose that time to bring their dinners. Jennifer’s filet mignon sat untouched while she processed what had just happened. David started to dig into his Porterhouse, but stopped, fork halfway to mouth, when he saw the expression on Jennifer’s face.

“Oh don’t act so surprised,” David said, trying for an anger he didn’t feel. “You knew I knew about you when I called you a ‘storyteller’. C’mon, you can’t tell me you didn’t hope this would happen.” He sneered at her. “Or were you hoping for Richie to come and confront you about that post?”

“What the hell are – oh shit,” Jennifer said, as it clicked. They had seen the post over at the website. Well, at least one of them did.

“Yeah,” David said, chewing away happily, “’oh shit’ indeed. You do know that is supposed to be a family-friendly board, right?”

“You think I did that? Why on earth would I do that? I have plenty of people who come to my website to read my stories.” Jennifer was getting over her embarrassment and was heading back to anger. She decided that anger was good. She wouldn’t puke if she was angry. “That’s what this is all about?” She shook her head. “Jesus,” she said.

David signaled the waitress, and ordered another drink. He smiled to himself when Jennifer ordered a glass of wine instead of a refill on her water. They sat in silence until the drinks came; David eating his meal, Jennifer just staring at hers.

“Everything OK with your steak, miss?” the waitress asked nervously, slanting her eyes between her and David.

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Jennifer answered, and waited for the waitress to leave.

Once she did, David spoke again. “You’re little story caused quite a bit of conversation,” he said. Jennifer muttered something that he didn’t catch. “What’d you say?”

“Part,” Jennifer said again, though still quietly. “It was part of a story, and I did NOT post that myself.” Her voice was earnest, and David wanted to believe her. “You must have seen my real post, right? The one where I asked the mods to remove it? Why didn’t they?”

David shrugged. “Who knows? Obie saw it and was giving us shit about it, and everyone was all sort of amused by the whole thing.” He shook his head. They were mostly amused because she had captured their essence almost exactly. That was the kind of thing they would really do, or would have done ten years ago at least. Hell, if he taxed his memory, it probably HAD been done at one time or another. It was unnerving that someone not in their circle of family and friends would be so dead-on about them.

David took a bite of his dinner, and chewed it slowly, ready to gauge her reaction. “Richie, the pig, wanted to read more, and figured out how to get to your,” he made a disdain-filled face, “website.”

“He did not,” Jennifer said, the pleading evident in her voice.

David smiled. “Oh yes, darlin’. He sure as shit did.”

Jennifer had drained her wine glass, and was looking wildly around for the waitress so she could get a refill. This was one of her worst nightmares come true. It was one thing to write that kind of thing and say to her friends, “yeah, ha ha, what if they actually read this stuff,” but it was quite something else to know that they had. The waitress returned, and Jennifer asked her to leave the bottle.

“And, nice guy that he is, he shared it with all of us. And damn, weren’t we all just shocked at what we found,” he shook his head. “I mean we’re not idiots; we know there are all sorts of stories written about us, but you guys have little clubs and shit? Jesus.” He shook his head. “Some of the stories on those sites...well let’s just say ‘damn’ just about covers it.”

Sweet Jesus, they’ve been on the boards.

“Look, if it bothers you so much, you didn’t have to read any of it, and you certainly didn’t have to click around. That’s what the little ‘x’ in the upper right-hand corner of the window is for.” Jennifer got over her shock and embarrassment enough to think of something. “How in the hell did you track my online persona back to me? I’m very careful not to use my full name anywhere, even when I sign up on those boards.” As a technology expert, she knew damn well how she would have done it. It’d be very easy to do if you had the right connections, and she was pretty sure these guys would have the right connections. Hell she had the connections... She was just surprised that they would want to bother.

Sure enough, David told her how he had roped one of the techs at BJM into helping him find out who she was. He started with an IP address, and traced it back through her internet service provider. Then he had a name, but nothing else. He’d spent some time reading her profiles on various boards, and found enough identical bits about where she was from, where she liked to hang out, things about her friends – bits that if someone who knew her had read them, would know in a heartbeat it was her. He basically cyberstalked her like she had the guys for so long. Being on the receiving end of that didn’t feel too good. She blanched when David told her he found a connection to someone she knew, and floated the fake job offer, and voila! here she was. Jennifer she cursed herself for being so stupid. Over time, she’d gotten less concerned with keeping her identity and personal details completely secret. She should have done a better job.

Jennifer’s mind was racing. A friend of Paul’s had set up this whole thing. Shit, that means that Paul’s friend was what, the tech that helped David? Did Paul know about her secret little life now? She was very careful not to let anyone in her real life know about Hath. One ‘real’ girlfriend knew about her, but it was because she was accidentally outed as a writer by, she smiled at the thought, fans of her stories before a concert. Her friend was fine with it, and actually enjoyed her writing, and had promised to keep it a secret.

Shit, Paul’d never let her live it down if he knew about this. Women got the appeal of the band and appreciated the sexy writing – straight guys did not, and Paul was as straight as they come. Jennifer groaned and put her head in her hands. She was so lost in thought that she didn’t realize that David was waiting for a response to a question she apparently didn’t hear him ask. She looked at him, confused.

"So, answer the question: why haven’t you written any stories about me?" he asked again.

Jennifer gaped at him. “You can’t be seriously asking me that question.” She looked into his face. Jesus, he was serious. She didn't know where to look or what to do. Answer the question? Or bolt like the scared rabbit in her chest wanted her to?


David was staring at her, waiting for her answer. When in doubt, punt.

"I don’t know," she said nervously, sounding like a five-year-old. How the hell was she supposed to answer that question? How was she supposed to tell this man that he just didn’t do it for her – that she didn’t think of him in that way? He was just the goofy, cute, jokester of a brother who could be counted on for just-shy-of-inappropriate jokes to diffuse a tense situation. Jennifer realized David wasn’t’ going to let it go, though, and she couldn’t really say all that to him.

Especially now that she was sitting there, not more than five feet away from him, and getting all sorts of nasty ideas in her head about just what those tight clothes he was wearing were hiding from her. He really was built. Up close, she could see the outline of his pecs under his shirt. He had the sleeves pushed up halfway to his elbows, and his sinewy forearms hinted at powerful strength. She couldn’t see under the table, but she suspected his legs and ass were just as powerful.

She felt her color rise, and hoped to hell that he interpreted the blush on her face as embarrassment, and not arousal.

"I guess I hadn't gotten the right inspiration," she finished lamely. "God, I can't believe I said that. I’m really going to go now." Jennifer started to gather her things again, and knocked her purse off the seat. David reached across the table to put a hand over her arm, stopping her from reaching under the table to get it. This time she didn’t tell him off, but she didn’t look into his face, either.

"I’ll bet I could inspire you," he said, dead serious, “if you’ll give me half a chance.”. That remark had her looking up in to eyes that had darkened to the deep blue of a perfect August afternoon. How the hell did he get his eyes to do that? He traced his thumb back and forth on Jennifer’s arm, and watched as the light contact had her pupils dilating.

Jennifer just stared at him. The color drained from her face. "You don't mean that," she said. “You just want me to feel awkward and stupid. Fine. You win, okay? Big rock star made the fan feel like shit. Congratulations.” She shook off his hand and bent under the table to snag her purse. She straightened and looped her purse strap over her shoulder, absently rubbing at the spot where David had touched her, and trying to will away the hot tears of embarrassment that were gathering at the back of her eyes.

"What, you chicken?” he taunted, smiling at her. His eyes locked on hers, and she couldn’t read his expression. “Bawk, bawk,” he said softly. She didn’t see mockery in his face, just a clear challenge.

Jennifer didn’t usually back down from a challenge.

She shook her head at David. "No, I’m not a chicken. It’s just – ” She sighed, looking at the – is that eagerness? – in his eyes. “Fine. I’ll write something for you.” Yeah right, she thought. In my next life. Like I’m EVER writing another word. Uh-uh. Nope, not me. She looked at David’s face, and saw a wide grin, like he had read her thoughts. “What?" she squeaked.

David just smiled. “You are so full of shit,” he said. “I can see your brain whirring behind those soft eyes of yours. Write something for me now, Ms. Storyteller,” he said. David was arguing with himself. Why couldn’t he just let it go? He no longer wanted her to feel badly, but he wanted very badly for her to do this. He was pathetic.

Jennifer shook her head. "I can't," she said looking around wildly. Her face already felt like it was aflame, and she couldn't believe she was even considering this.

David threw some bills on the table, heedless of what they were. “You’re right, this isn’t the place.” He stood and held his hand out for her to take. "Where should we go?"

She waged an inner battle of her own. Unbidden, a story was forming in her head about this man, and she knew she was going to have to get back to the hotel to get it out soon. The way this worked for her, the stories became all-consuming, and if she didn’t exercise them, didn’t get them down on paper or on-screen, they would drive her mad. Could she really just tell him what was running through her head? She thought about it for a long several minutes before she made up her mind.

Ignoring his proffered hand, Jennifer stood. "We could go for a walk down the beach," she said. "It's quiet, but still public."

David looked at her, surprised. "You’re afraid to be alone with me?" They strolled out of the restaurant and down the block; walking close to each other but not touching.

She shook her head and laughed nervously. "Not afraid, just..." She sighed. “This is too hard.”

"Why? I’ve read your stories," he said. He lowered his voice and leaned in to talk in her ear. His breath tickled her and kicked her heart rate up a notch. “They’re heady stuff. Shit, reading that stuff is like watching a porno movie.” He laughed sexily when her color drained. “Look, passion, lust, and great sex are nothing to be embarrassed about.” He grinned. “Though you did pick the wrong guys to write about. I’m the passionate one.” He saw a hint of a smile play around Jennifer’s mouth. “I’m sorry I tried to make you feel badly,” he said softly.

Jennifer blushed and fidgeted with her purse strap so her hands would have something to do. Letting out an un-ladylike snort, she said, "You know, this was all supposed to be anonymous, harmless fun," she said quietly. "That was the intention. I swear I never even entertained the idea that you, any of you, would see any of it. I was quite happy living in a state of blissful denial." She sighed. "Now it it’s not going to be fun anymore, KNOWING who some of the audience is." She shook her head. “Nope, I think this is it for Hath.”

“Aw, don’t be a spoilsport,” he said. “I’ll tell you something. The guys? Well, we all get a kick out of it. Some of the stuff that’s out there,” he shook his head, “well it’s just mean-spirited or just plain nasty! I mean there’s no way I would EVER fuck Sambora, I don’t care HOW drunk I was.”

Jennifer laughed loud and hard at that. She put a hand on David’s arm, and felt a little sizzle where her skin met his. “Oh my God,” she said. “You didn’t actually read any of that slash stuff? Jesus, you’re crazy. WE can’t even read that stuff, and...” She clapped her hands over her mouth to shut herself up.

“And what?” David prompted.

“And nothing,” Jennifer insisted. David just stared at her. Jennifer rolled her eyes, “Well, let’s just say that we ladies often joke that there’s nothing we wouldn’t want to see you guys do,” her face was flaming again, “but there’s always an unwritten phrase there at the end of that thought: ‘except each other’. Two hot men together like that just does not sit well with us women – well my friends at least; some do like it.” shut up, shut up, SHUT UP her inner voice shouted at her.

David laughed. “Anyway,” he said, leveling a gaze at her that went straight to her core, “the stuff we found on your site and the links to the other stories there? Well, they’re all just wow.” He wagged his eyebrows at her and dramatically wiped fake sweat off his forehead. “Some of the guys admit to having their girls read some of it to them, and we all read this stuff when we’re um, lonely. You’re bookmarked on our computers, baby.”

“Yeah, well,” Jennifer started, but shook her head. “I have no idea what to say to that,” she said, though the thought of those men stroking themselves to her words made her panties dampen.

“At a loss for words, Ms. Storyteller?” he smiled and winked at her.

“For the moment, Mr. Rock Star,” she winked back, and shoulder-checked him. God, was she flirting with him? She was mortified: what the hell was her deal? She could feel her ‘alter ego’ starting to take over. That must be it. All this talk about the stories, and hot men and them getting hot and bothered by her words, well, it was getting to her.

David could see a change coming over the woman beside him. She went from embarrassed to confident; her grimace of discomfort transforming into a sexy, knowing smile. Whoa he thought, intrigued as hell. “You okay there, Jennifer?” he asked.

“Hath,” she corrected. “If I’m going to do this for you, it’s going to be as my alter-ego. ‘Jennifer’ doesn’t have the balls to pull this off. ‘Hath’ is the ballsiest bitch you’ve ever seen. Fuck you if you think that’s weird. You asked for it.”

David burst out laughing, and held out his hand again, knowing instinctively that Hath would take it. “C’mon, Hath, let’s get hit the beach.” She took his hand boldly and without hesitation followed him off the sidewalk and into the soft sand. They angled down toward the water, and Jennifer stopped to take her shoes off, loving the feel of the sand on her stocking-clad feet.

Smiling wickedly, she said, “Turn your back.”

“Why?” David asked.

“Just do it,” she commanded, and he did.

Jennifer dropped her shoes into her purse and after looking around furtively, huddled behind David and raised her skirt just enough to unhook the stockings from their clips. She rolled them down and off her legs, and stowed them in her purse. That was much better – now she could feel the velvety-soft sand between her toes. She released her hair from its clips, and stowed those in her bag as well. She flung the bag over her shoulder again, and started walking down the beach with long, purposeful strides; her arms crossed over her chest, and her long hair blowing in the wind. “OK, you can turn around now,” she called over her shoulder.

David turned and saw her walking away. He noticed her bare legs, and sucked in a breath. He followed their length with his eyes, and continued up her body, seeing a mane of glorious hair being whipped back by the ocean breeze. The woman walking away from him exuded confidence and sex, and if this was Jennifer’s alter-ego, well hell, he liked Hath a whole lot. He chuckled and jogged the few yards that separated them to walk by her side. “So,” he said, “how does this work?”

Jennifer/Hath turned to David. She flicked her eyes over the length of him, and smiled a sinful smile that had David instantly alert and aware of her as a sexual creature.

“First,” she said softly, “the woman starts with her hands.” She held her hands up in front of her face, twisting and turning them idly. “Hands rather like these,” she said. “Long, slender fingers, but powerfully strong. Hands with skin so soft it makes you weep. Hands that hold the scent of fresh strawberries from her body lotion. Hands that will bring intense pleasure to you if given half a chance.” She slowly rubbed her hands together, and David couldn’t tear his eyes away from the way they were moving over each other. He could swear he feel and smell them just like she described. He was in trouble.

“Really?” he choked.

“Don’t interrupt,” Jennifer/Hath said sharply. “Her hands; they're lightly coated with flavored oil. She chose a light, almost neutral flavor so as not to detract from the naturally heady taste of her man’s arousal, but damn, she wants her hands to slide easily over him.” From the corner of her eye, Jennifer/Hath could see David’s eyes squint, and could hear his breathing get a bit raspier. Emboldened, she continued.

“The woman turns from her vanity to see him standing before her, gloriously naked, his cock standing proudly at attention. She approaches him slowly; dropping her silk robe off her shoulders, allowing it to pool at her feet. The roll of her hips as she approaches him is mesmerizing, and he cannot tear his gaze away. Kneeling before him, she takes his hard length between her hands and gently rubs the oil in, making sure to run her hands over every magnificent inch of him, from root to tip. She gives him a slight squeeze to make sure she has his full attention, then strokes oh so slowly, so she can feel every ridge and knob...”


“Jesus Christ,” David said, as they continued walking up the beach. He could practically feel a woman’s hands on him. Oh, who was he kidding? He pictured Jennifer’s, or Hath’s he guessed he should say, hands on him. He cursed his choice of denim this morning. She had barely started her tale, and he was already getting hard.

“We haven’t even come to the good bits yet, darlin’,” she said to him seductively, fully ‘Hath’ now. Smiling, she continued her story, her voice lowering. David had to walk closer to her to hear what she was saying. “Once he's good and oiled up, it's time for her to taste her handiwork. She'll rise slowly and take his hand, leading him to his most comfortable chair. Gently, she will push him into it, and arrange his arms carefully on those of the chair. Gracefully, she'll sink to her knees in front of him and purr as she takes as much as she can into her mouth.”

David stumbled and Hath smiled before continuing. “The taste of his skin mixed with that of the oil is heady and raw, and has her wet in an instant. She won't give in to her baser instincts and rub away the ache, however; this is all for him. With a deep breath, she slowly edges forward until he is fully engulfed by her hot mouth, relaxing her throat to take him all in. Then with a purr and a swallow, she sets to work.”

“Where is this coming from?” David asked her softly.

She shrugged. “It just comes. Just wait, the hero in my story does too.” She chuckled sexily, and David’s pants got uncomfortably tight. Why was it that he could picture her on the floor in front of him, doing these things to him? Damn. He reached for her hand and twined his fingers with hers. Hath’s faraway look told him she didn’t even notice.

“She sets a steady motion,” Hath said, “not too fast, not too slow. The suction of her mouth is heaven, and he groans throatily in appreciation. Her tongue plays over his length as she bobs her head up and down between his splayed legs. Each time she reaches the tip, she ever so lightly grazes her teeth across it making him hiss, and dips her tongue into the slit, hoping for a bead of moisture.”

David’s grip on Jennifer’s hand was tightening, and she smiled a purely feminine smile. “Again and again she descends; slowly, inch by inch, until he is fully engulfed once again. A clever hand traces lightly up his leg, tickling the coarse hairs. A little tickle in that spot just under his balls sets him moaning. He's been so good up until now, trying to be quiet and still, but this is pure torture. A long, low moan escapes his slightly parted lips as his head falls back onto the soft padding of the chair.”

She slanted her eyes at David, and saw he was staring straight ahead, his expression stoic but the little pulse point under his ear was throbbing to beat the band. She bet other things were as well. “She draws back until he bobs free so she can shush him, then sends little kisses down his length, until she can lave at his sac. She savors the musk-mixed-with-sweat scent, burning it into her memory forever. While she licks and laps, her hand sneaks up to encircle the engorged rod, and her hands are SO strong.”

She squeezed David’s hand slightly, and a hiss escaped his lips. She smiled. Who was making whom uncomfortable now? It was a powerful feeling, and she was reveling in it. “He reaches for her long, thick hair, but she bats his hands away. She is going to set her own pace, she will not be rushed. She pushes his thighs further apart so she can kneel closer, and take his dick, which is now swollen beyond belief, and slide it between her breasts. She watches his face as he watches himself appear and disappear between those globes. As his tip reveals itself, she stretches her tongue to lick at it. Her hands slowly creep up to pinch and pull at her nipples, and her head falls back in pleasure imagining his hands on her body.”

Hath was in the groove now, and was starting to get really turned on. The cool air blowing off the water was helping, but not much. She had to wrap this up before she really embarrassed herself and came on the spot.

“His hands are clenched so tightly on the arms of the chair that she can see them shaking. Taking pity on him, she lets him drop from her flesh and attacks anew, sucking furiously on him. His legs start to tense and his abs clench. She is humming happily now, knowing what is to come.” The timber of her voice hasn’t changed, but she is talking slightly faster, and David is spellbound. “She squeezes the base of his cock hard, and sucks for all she's worth. He explodes with a curse on his lips and sweat pours down his face as she takes every last bit of cum he has to offer.” David’s quick intake of breath was the reward Hath was looking for. “With gentle kisses and licks, she brings him back down to earth. His eyes are slumberous, their half-lidded beauty just breathtaking. The woman sits back on her heels and saucily wipes at her bottom lip, rubbing the moisture collected there between her legs.” Hath trailed off with a sigh as the images played in her head.

“Is that good enough for you?” she asked David.

He swallowed hard. “Jesus,” David said. They walked for a few minutes in silence before he added, “Are you going to put that on your site?”

“Sure as shit am, darlin’,” Jennifer/Hath said, smirking at him. “That’s good stuff right there.” She looked him over, seeing the effect her words had on him. “I see you think so, too.” She started to get embarrassed again, as ‘Hath’ slowly sunk back into her psyche, and ‘Jennifer’ came back in control.

David smiled. “Will you make sure the guys know it’s about me?”

Jennifer blushed, “Sure I can write about how you lured me here under false pretenses and goaded me into it.” She winked at him.


Jennifer laughed. “Sure. It all sounds like fiction, it’ll fit right in.”



Anonymous said...

Wow! This little fiction was great!!! I loved it!

Sunstreaked said...

OMG HATH!! I alternated between laughing my butt off and feeling that tight knot in my stomach at "getting caught" and then you wrapped it up SO perfectly!!! What a freaking great story and I love how you used so much good information in the whole thing.


Opester said...

Oh wow, that was sweet! I love the revenge of a Goddess! And that last line really makes me wonder, maybe, just maybe....
I really enjoyed this-way to go, babe!

Anonymous said...

Ok, serious new person here, literally just saw them live 9 days ago and now am sort of drowning in everything.

Interesting story, and premise. Some of it doesn't make sense to me - who is Obie?

At any rate, you're obviously a very gifted writer - I think it's cool that there is a forum for those for whom writing is a creative outlet can get feedback like this. Kinda like songwriting, just a different kind of fan, right?