Beautiful
Sitting at her make-up table, she
carefully applied a heavy liner to her eye. They were liquid and
dark, cow eyes. She'd been told they were eyes a person could drown
in. Would anyone fall into those pools tonight? Would she find
someone to bring home, to make her feel... anything but the
discomfort that came from walking around in the wrong skin?
It had been months since Eric, since
someone had been with her for more than one night. She knew she
wanted more than a one-night stand, but she would take what she could
get.
It would get better.
She repeated the mantra, closing her
eyes and one fist around the tiny brush full of shadow. She would not
let the despair claim her. She was going to have a fabulous night.
Smiling — a very small smile — she
opened her eyes to look down at the deep red chemise falling just
over the top of the matching garter. Smoothing the satin
unnecessarily, she soothed herself, finding joy in beauty. From the
roses on the dressing table, to her lingerie, to the netting over the
bed, she had spared little expense. On the whole, it was still
cheaper than the endless rounds of medication, and it seemed at least
as effective.
Fortified, she turned back to the
mirror and was not disappointed. The application of color had
transformed her from the mousy office staffer into someone stunning.
Her eyebrows were plucked and shaped. Her eyes appeared larger just
from liner alone. The shape of her face was less square thanks to
properly applied foundation and blush – made softer, rounder. She
thought she looked inviting, even though she had never been a good
judge of feminine allure. This style or that appealed to her, usually
based on how a woman with a similar feature wore it, but not the
women themselves. Her reflected nose wrinkled at the thought.
With a last swipe of lip stain, she
rose from the table, stretching and feeling the satin move on her
skin. Damn she needed to get laid. If her clothes could turn her on
this easily, how quick would she be to take home the first man to
bump into her? The black lycra material fit her form, her small
breasts hugged and pushed very slightly upward. She would never have
impressive cleavage, but what she had, she displayed. Then she set
bright studded combs into her hair, perfect for catching the lights
on the dance floor. Sitting on her lace ruffled duvet, she crossed a
leg and slowly rolled a back-seamed silk stocking over it. Pointing
her toes and rolling up to the clip waiting at her garter, she
admired the effect. Pale legs, waxed to smoothness, were made even
more soft, more touchable, by the smoky silk. After repeating the
process, she stepped into her red-soled Louboutins. It had taken a
lot of string pulling and hard cash to get her size, but she had
them. Beautiful black straps hugging her foot over silken stockings.
The inches the heels added almost guaranteed she'd be over half the
heads in the club; she tried not to think about that. After all,
putting these shoes on was the equivalent of any one of her
anti-depressants.
The doctors never agreed with her on
that, but she was adamant. Touching, looking at and wearing beautiful
things made her feel more beautiful, more natural, like she fit in
for once. She never skipped her prescriptions, needing more help, not
less. Calling a cab, she added accessories, a bracelet, a choker,
earrings – each would add to her sparkle tonight. If there was a
God, she wouldn't come home alone. Thinking about that, she should
check she was prepared. Condoms were in the night stand drawer,
but... A small black bag hanging from a silver chain was the last
thing she grabbed, light shining off chain and bracelet, both
segmented links of metal. Opening it, she found three square packages
inside and sighed in relief. Hanging the bag from shoulder, she
strode confidently out to her waiting cab.
The driver's eyes followed her leg as
it entered his cab. She could almost feel that gaze like a caress and
felt herself flushing. Tonight was going to be perfect, she decided.
It didn't matter that she was going alone – she wasn't coming home
that way. "Club Donovan, please," she said, her voice never
as languid as she would like. It was sultry though, smooth and
rolling. She took care never to rush when speaking as it lost that
quality.
"Yes, ma'am," the driver
answered with a smile. "Meeting someone there?"
"I hope so," she said with
smile of her own.
His broadened. "I'm sure you will
have no lack of people wanting to meet you."
The club wasn't far and she fished out
a ten while leaning toward the driver as he took the cab out of gear.
He looked over her chest and up to her eyes. She winked at him,
slipping the ten into his hand and kissing his cheek. "Thank
you," she murmured, loving the way he shivered. Yes, perfect.
She passed the familiar bouncer who
waved off her proffered cover fee. "Go on. That's just for the
tourists," he said smiling. Before she passed through, he put
his lips to her ear. He actually had to stretch slightly to do so.
"You look amazing tonight. Good luck."
Blushing again, she brushed a lock of
hair into place. "Thank you," she murmured in reply. With a
mental shake she straightened, chin high, and strode with confidence
through the door held for her.
Bass assaulted her, beating against her
in waves. Bodies filled the dance floor, nearly crushed together.
Rather than get a drink, she went straight there, forcing her way
into the milling throng, using hips and shoulders to make a space and
then to emphasize her shape as she moved them in time to the beat.
Several minutes and no partners later,
she needed something to slake the thirst. None of the men who had
held her hips and moved in time with her stayed long, so she
approached the bar alone.
"Stella Artois, please."
The bartender smiled at her warmly and
nodded to her as he popped the cap from the bottle. She passed him
cash in return, and he shouted, "Looking hot tonight, Stella."
Again, she averted her eyes, overcome by the compliment. Like the
bouncer, he'd seen her here many times before, known how hard she was
working to make herself look and feel this good. Neither knew her
name. Neither needed to.
Her breath caught as a chest was
suddenly stretched very close to hers, a very masculine, broad chest.
Her eyes still downcast, she hadn't seen him approach and barely
registered his order. He didn't move quickly, probably sensing how
excited she had just gotten. She could still feel a slight tug in her
groin, a twitch, as much as she tried to deny or ignore it.
Eyes down, she stared at his brass belt
buckle. The thick material of his jeans bulged where he filled them,
and she resisted licking her lips. Working up, he wore a white button
down shirt, unbuttoned half-way to reveal that waxed chest she'd been
admiring a moment before. She could see the very slight shadow where
his hair normally grew, scattered liberally across both pecs.
Managing not to lick it, she did bite
her lip as she traced his stubbled jaw with her eye, his plump rosy
lips. If he had a fault, it was his nose. It had been broken, making
it bulge at the bridge, and was slightly longer than his proportions
allowed, but it rested between warm brown eyes, dancing with mirth.
She couldn't help but return the smile that barely touched his lips
but radiated from those eyes.
"Hi," he said in a gruff
voice. She could easily imagine it shouting from the stands at a
sporting event. She would guess, football.
"Hi," she answered, once
again wishing her voice were a little higher, a little more feminine.
As it was, it was tense from holding back her own attraction to this
man. She took a deep swallow of her beer to try to loosen her throat.
It was better if she let her voice go low, make it long and drawling.
"Good night?" she asked.
"Very good." She felt as much
as saw his eyes travelling her body. Closing her eyes, she relished
it. The stirring between her legs intensified, the feeling of
tightness. Her brow creased with it. "I'm sorry," he
murmured, turning.
Her eyes flew open. "No! Don't
go," the first had been almost a shout, guttural; the latter in
her affected drawl, inviting.
He smiled and put an elbow on the bar.
"Why would I go unless you want me to leave?" His hand
stretched out, the back of one finger stroking her cheek. She tilted
her head toward it. His smile grew. "What's your name, my
sweet?" he asked, not moving his hand far, down her throat,
along her choker.
She did lick her lips this time,
looking away briefly. "Stella," she said finally, eyes
leaving her bottle.
He chuckled, taking a swig from his
own. "Sure, you can call me Bud," he teased, raising the
brown bottle to her, Budweiser.
She chuckled, low and throaty. His eyes
became hooded and he moved a little closer to her. She held her
breath, hoping nothing would spoil the moment.
"You know," he told her, eyes
locked on her lips, "I was watching you dance, imagining your
body moving with mine." His eyes came to hers then and she
smiled in encouragement. He took it, one hand sliding over the back
seam that travelled straight up and under her short skirt. "Imagined
you pressed against me."
"Why didn't you dance with me,
then?" she asked with a smirk.
He looked away. "I'm not much of a
dancer."
"I don't know, Bud," she
said, consonants emphasized with a rolling of her lips and click of
her tongue. "You seem to be moving with me just fine." She
put a hand to his shoulder, turning suddenly.
His hand, once on her buttock was now
on her pelvis, fingers pointed down. Breath ruffling her hair, he
sighed into her. Even in these heels he topped her, if only by an
inch, and so the back of her head filled his vision. He pulled her
back into him. She felt the bulge in his jeans that she had admired
earlier and prayed he wouldn't slide his hand down. Things were
exactly where she wanted them right now, where she needed them.
"I can imagine myself..." the
hand started to slide, but she stopped it in its tracks by moving her
ass up and down the ridge of his jeans.
"I'm imagining you here."
Most men, in her experience, seemed more interested in a girl
offering anal. Bud didn't seem an exception.
"Really?" His voice caught a
little in his throat, choking on surprise. "Well, why are we
imagining?" His lips closed on her ear, nipping the shell
lightly and making her shudder against him, clenching her ass
slightly, almost pulling on him as she did. "Fuck, let's get the
hell out of here," he complained, setting his half-empty bottle
on the bar.
She took one last swallow before
placing hers beside it. "Let's," she echoed. "Did you
drive? I cabbed."
"Me too," he said.
"Allow me, then," she said
stepping to the curb and selecting their ride home. She gave the
driver her address as Bud slid in beside her.
"Your place?" he asked,
surprised. "I don't mind mine, you know." He started
kissing up her shoulder toward the chain holding her bag. "If
you'd rather not invite a stranger into your house."
She turned, pulling his chin up to kiss
the lips that had been tempting her all night. "I don't mind."
The words rolled from her tongue, which then flicked out to touch the
tip of his top lip.
"Damn," he murmured leaning
forward again. "I'm going to blow. You are sin incarnate."
She smiled, adoring the compliment,
adoring the knowledge that she was turning him on as much as he was
her. She wanted to ease his mind and his pants, but the ride was too
short.
"Follow me," she said, taking
his hand. She nearly pushed him into the overstuffed chair just past
the front door. He pulled her onto his lap, mouth finding hers in
greedy kisses.
"Fuck you taste good. I haven't
had... Shit," he cursed again as she slid down between his
splayed legs, rubbing against him.
"Neither have I, not in months,"
she agreed, slowly drawing the zipper of his fly down. "So how
about I relieve this?" she asked, stroking his length through
the fabric of his briefs.
His head tilted back, hips lifting to
her. "I might need that," he agreed, fingers plunging into
her hair, twisting in it to keep her close.
Working him out proved more difficult
than she expected, jeans and briefs were both tight, but it meant he
was even longer and thicker than she had anticipated. The tightness
in her groin intensified as she exposed the dark red, rigid member. A
bead was already forming at the tip and she licked her lips in
anticipation.
"Wait," he murmured. His abs
weren't flat and they buckled now as he bent to kiss her again,
tongue exploring her lips and mouth. Her breath caught first in
surprise and again seconds later, in passion. Her hand gripped his
wrist where it emerged from her hair near her ear and stroked toward
his elbow, twisting and sliding, just as she wanted to do to his
cock, showing him her appreciation. "Need those up here first,"
he said with a cocky grin followed by a small sigh. He relaxed, and
his cock wobbled once, dipping toward his belly before standing up
again.
She wrapped a hand around it eagerly,
opening her mouth and wrapping lips around it.
"Shit, don't waste time, do you?"
"Umm-mmm," she hummed in the
negative, feeling him tighten his thighs around her in response.
Stroking, she freed her mouth long enough to say, "Nothing
tastes as good as cock." Then she was running her tongue through
that bead, savoring it and taking as much of the shaft as her dry
lips would allow.
Neither lips nor cock were dry long.
Soft skin over hard rod, she sucked and massaged over the length,
pulling and pushing it with tongue and lips. Listening, she took
cues, repeating what made him moan, skipping over anything that got
no reaction.
"Damn, teeth," he groaned
though a clenched jaw, and she let him go again.
"Sorry."
"Fuck, no, that was fine. It
was..." They suddenly realized how long she'd been blowing him,
taking her time, sucking on balls or belly between long drags on his
cock. "I think the edge is gone. Not sure how you managed that,
but I feel like I could go forever." His grin promised as much
and she was intimidated for a moment.
Pulling her to her feet, he rose with
her. His hands found her cheeks, holding them as he kissed her again,
walking her backwards into a wall. He pressed against her too tight
groin, making her groan and rub against him.
"Like that?" he asked,
pressing his knee into her.
She grunted slightly. That had hurt, if
only a little.
"Oh," he muttered, obviously
disappointed in her reaction.
Not giving him time to dwell on it, she
took his hand and led him to her bedroom, her free hand pulling the
shirt that was now completely unbuttoned, off his shoulder. It fell
in a cloud of white to the floor. She pushed away from him, just long
enough to pull the dress down to her hips and step out of it.
His eyes appraised her anew, taking in
the deep red satin and additional skin. "Come here," he
called, stepping from his fallen jeans. He pushed the briefs down to
follow before sliding a hand up her back under the chemise. "You
look amazing," he said. "You're sure about this?"
"Are you?" she asked. He'd
stopped her so often to ask. Was it because he had second thoughts?
"Not at all. Just... never had a
girl take me home before," he said with a smirk. "They
don't seem to like my roughneck manners."
Smiling she pressed herself flush to
him, rubbing her breasts, her nipples on his chest. "I think
your manners are just fine. And I'm sure I want to feel you inside
me, not just my mouth." Her mouth had moved toward his ear as
she spoke and the last words were followed with her tongue, circling
the shell.
He shuddered, knees shaking a little.
He lifted her by the waist, taking her completely by surprise. She
was actually quite heavy, a large woman, but he didn't set her down
until they reached the bed.
"Wow," she murmured,
impressed.
"I'd carry you further if needed,"
he promised. "You feel light as air to me."
A quick peck on his lips and she turned
to her nightstand, pulling out condom and lube. She set both on the
pillow behind him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him
closer. She kept her legs together, one bent to draw attention to the
clip holding her stocking.
He didn't seem to acknowledge the silk,
instead putting a hand to the pale skin above, running calloused
fingers over the soft smoothness of her upper thigh. She rolled away,
exposing the cheek her thong didn't cover.
"Beautiful ass," he admired,
and she felt him shift down the bed. Grabbing his hand quickly, she
pulled it across herself, across her breasts, shoving her hips back
to rub against his still stiff dick. He moaned and she nearly did as
well. He was so hot against her skin, so hard. Pinned between the
flesh of her ass, she rocked slowly, his own fluid giving a slight
slide to the motion.
"God, I want you there," she
whispered, lifting his hand to her lips and sucking one finger into
her mouth. "I want you inside me."
Not able to resist the suggestion, Bud
reached around her to open the condom. She smiled at the small ring
of latex before it disappeared behind her again. Her perfect night
had had no bumps yet. She might make it through this without his
learning. Just a little further.
"Shouldn't we take this off?"
he asked, into her shoulder, snapping the thread that flossed between
her cheeks. She winced at the pain it caused, but took pleasure from
it too, knowing how close they were.
"No," she answered, reaching
behind to pull it aside as she squeezed him, massaging him with her
ass.
He groaned. "Right."
She let go of the thong to find the
lube blindly. Bud continued kissing her back as she applied some to
her hands, reaching behind to slide over his covered length and then
up herself. His lips on her shoulder were replaced by his forehead as
she bent her knees up, spreading her cheeks open. She probed herself
with a finger, moaning quietly. It felt so good to touch herself, to
circle her tight hole, working it open, hooking slightly...
She was breathing heavily by the time
he pulled her wrist away, his own hand taking the place of hers,
first one finger, rough, rubbing just shy of too hard. It made her
rock in time and nearly come in her panties. When he added a second,
she did. Shuddering, the wetness spread through the fabric, mostly
back toward the hole he was still working, opening.
"Holy shit," he said when the
thick liquid covered his fingers. "You are so fucking wet."
He had missed the consistency. She sighed in relief and moved her ass
more vigorously. She was so sensitive that it was almost painful, but
she wanted him, now. He took the hint and pulled his hand to himself,
holding the head of his cock at her entrance. She skated over it once
before catching it well enough to press back onto it. Letting it
slowly fill and open her.
"Christ, you are big," she
said, voice husky again.
"Too big?" he asked.
She shook her head, biting her lip
again. Slip, slip, slip, until he pushed through, nudging against
everything inside her she hated, but everything that felt so good in
that moment.
"Fuck, God, that's good," she
muttered between gasping breaths as she squeezed and squirmed on him.
She was too sensitive still and it made not grinding on him
difficult. It wouldn't do to hurt herself though. "Oh my God."
"Holy shit, Stella," he
groaned. She could feel him throbbing against that spot inside her,
that spot she denied was there. Her insides screamed at the pleasure
it gave, the organ she shouldn't have, the organ that let her come
again.
Who was Stella? she wondered when her
mind returned to her again. The beer. It was what he called her, of
course.
Relaxing, she let her mind drift with
him spooned behind her.
She was half-asleep still when his hand
drifted over her hip to where she had slipped out of the too tight
thong.
"No!" she shouted, hoarse
voice very masculine now.
The damage was done though. Bud had
found her secret.
"What in the hell?" he
roared, springing back from her. "What in the hell are you?"
He stormed over to his pants and yanked them on without briefs.
"You're a man?"
Tears filled her eyes. There was never
a good way to tell someone, especially not at this point. She'd told
people before, when she got to know them, but then it never got here,
and she'd needed this so badly.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
"Sorry? Sorry doesn't tell me what
you are!" he continued to scream.
"I'm wrong!" she answered in
a shout. "I'm neither, I'm nothing. Fuck off," she said,
turning her now-tear-streaked face to the pillow. "I'll never be
right," she said, shaking with sobs. "I'm not the woman I
should be."
She waited to hear the slam that always
came next and nearly jumped out of her skin when the bed sank next to
her.
"I'm sorry," he said. "You...
you should have told me." His anger was on a very high simmer,
held barely in check.
"Would you have come if I had?"
she asked defiantly. "You needed what you got too." She
hurled the words at him. He had been as half-blind with lust and want
as she had been or it never would have worked.
He didn't argue. "That's not the
point. Who are you?"
Her heart seemed to pull. It had been
broken and torn a moment ago and now it gave one small pulse, a spot
of light in the dark of her life.
"I'm a girl," she said
adamantly. "Whatever lies my body tells, I am a girl."
"I'm not asking what you are
anymore," he said softly, smoothing her hair. Her heart mended a
little further. It was true. That was why it had pulsed a moment ago.
"I'm Beau," she said, hating
the name. She planned to be Mary or Marie soon.
"No, Stella, Belle, you aren't
'beau.'"
He was being so kind even when she had
betrayed him, while it was still sharp, cutting him.
"I will be," she said,
sitting up a little to face him, legs carefully crossed to conceal
herself. "They say, another year or two..." She couldn't
finish, hope floundering. No man would wait years. She had to take
what she could get until then.
He nodded, still stroking her head.
"Give me a call then?" he asked, pulling out his wallet and
extracting a business card. "I can't be comfortable like this,
not for more than coffee or beers or something."
It was more than she could have asked
for. She looked at the tiny rectangle of paper as though it was a
board floating in the ocean and she was drowning. Maybe that's
exactly what it was. He kissed her forehead. "Call me, Belle."
He walked quietly from the room, picking up his shirt as he went. She
watched, bewildered. She couldn't call him back, that was too much
for now, he'd said so. But even to have another friend... one who
might be more... later...
Belle. She liked that.
