Perfect Retreat

 Today begins a new series, Perfect Retreat, and the debut of our newest writer - Faith Ann Whitten.  Hmmm, sounds to me like while the boys are away girls will play.  

 Perfect Retreat

by

Faith Ann Whitten 

 Chapter One

'It's extremely hot this evening.' Rose thought to herself as she sits at her desk, she had been studying all weekend. She pulls her glasses off, lays them on her schoolwork, and rubs her eyes, glances at the moon and decides 'Right then, its time to do it. Yes they must.' 

She nervously picks up the telephone and pushes number one, waiting eagerly for him to answer the phone. His brusque “Hello” immediately sends her cheeks into a flush. Rose gets aroused at the mere sound of his voice. She bites her lip, checks her sloppy bun and fiddles with her pen. She can never control her actions when he is around and she wishes he would feel  the same about her. 

"Um, Hey!  Can you come down to the office to discuss the retreat?" while bouncing her leg.

“You have me on the phone now, why don’t you just speak,” he says.

“OK, well."  She hesitates nervously, her knuckles turning white as she grips the pen which makes her let go and flex her hand. "I think we should do as Lily suggested and go on this retreat. You are off for your vacation and I don’t go back to school till the fall. What do you think?” She says while bringing her knuckle up to her mouth. “We have to call now because they leave May 15st and will be gone the whole month.” 

“Will this make you happy? If so lets do it!” He huffs.  He gets annoyed as she squeals into the phone.  “Calm down! Jeez you’re 33 yrs old, no need to act like a school girl.”

She opens her mouth in protest.  “But I am…”
 
“I meant a teenager.” he says sarcastically.

“I love you.” she whispers to the dead space.  With a sigh of exasperation she looks up at the moon again. Putting her glasses back on, she glances  down at the papers.  She pushes them away, quickly picking up the phone she calls Lily. “Hey, its Rose.” 

“Hey… you know the time?” Lily says. 

Rose shakes her head then realizing Lily can’t see her, she says “no.” 

Lily says “Well? Let me call you on Skyperpal?”

Rose grabs her computer, in an attempt to not fall, she slams the phone on the receiver. Shaking her hair about as she pulls her bun out, crossing her legs in her chair removing her shirt so she is just in a bra, which gives it the perfect touch.  Lily likes it when she is shirtless. She has said so many times over the years. They used to get together every Wednesday and spend the night together while the husbands work long hours and the kids would have their fun sleep overs. Since the kids are now teenagers, and think they are too grown up for sleep overs, those are  a thing of the past.

Rose  has been missing Lily and can’t wait to spend a whole month with her.
Secretly she hopes that Jeremy and Jake both back out at last the minute and its just the two of them.

Lily and Rose, oh what a thought! Her panties dampen, she grabs the inside of her thigh which makes the computer wiggle.  She snaps back into reality when her computer lets out a little bubble sound. Startled, she blushes and gets excited as Lily’s name pops up on the screen.

Rose clicks the buzz button,  she thinks the little icon is cute. She likes the new change.

Lily is almost naked when she pops up on the screen.  She has her robe open.  Rose can see it all. “WOW! You sure know how to get a girl wet!” 

Lily whispers “Why are you calling so late love? Do you want me to tell you how much of a bad girl you are?” She sticks her finger in her mouth to moisten it. 

Rose cuts her off and says “Spank me later! Jake says we can go to the retreat. Maybe we can ditch the boys and we can have our own sexual rendezvous in the woods somewhere.”

“HELL YEAH!” she covers her mouth and whispers “Hell yeah.”

The women giggle in excitement.

Swingers: The Red Queen

 Who's the king of the swingers? Judge for yourself. We know the Grande Dame...She is The Red Queen.

 

The Red Queen

 

 

by Abyrne Mostyn

 

 

They called her the Red Queen...the Grand Mistress. Friends called her Margaret, but most who got close to her called her Master. A dominatrix, she was the master of all that happened around her at all times. Her chambers were a playground for the things that weren’t talked about in proper circles, but perhaps in hushed whispers. Men and women alike who wanted the exquisite, disparate ecstasy-torture of riding the edge to submission came to her in droves hoping she would dominate them. She took them to that place that you couldn’t define. A place that one could only recreate in the sweet dream fantasy land that existed between asleep and awake. Spent and craving another time with a consummate Dom, she was that kind of master. Consuming, total surrender or nothing at all.

She was accomplished at all the forms of domination. A BDSM master, she was in demand by those who lived the lifestyle, though few knew who she was behind her guise. An hourglass in red leather, she never revealed her identity and that seemed to heighten the fantasy. A flame red wig to hide the blonde showed underneath the matching red leather full head mask that hid all but ruby lips and emerald green contact disguised eyes. She could play tic-tac-toe on her subs arse from twenty paces with a flick of the wrist and her long tail whip, making them sing for her to win her game. A showgirl gone deep into the life, she traded in her pink feather boa, diamond tiara, and vaudeville act for the business end of a cat-o-nine tails and needle point stilettos. Blood red nail polish on fingers and toes to complete the ensemble, no one who saw her had a doubt about her ability to play a person to the edge and take them over or keep them from their release as she chose.

To her friends, she was just another person in their circle of friends. To those swingers who entered her party house every three months, she was the sweet hostess, the emcee of the evening. None seemed to recognize her, or if they did, they were wise enough to keep her identity to themselves. She would bet on the former, as she had gone to great lengths to keep her anonymity as the Red Queen to herself, and few who were her subs were invited here. What none in or out of her circles knew was that she, like so many strong Dominants required the powerful practiced hand of another to gain her release. True submission to a proficient, talented master, the skillful application of a riding crop, or to dance at the end of someone else’s whip. The dichotomy of hot wax and ice cubes, the pleasurable pain that would take her higher than many of this world knew they could rise. To float above herself in sweet ecstasy and weep her surrender or release when it was earned, but not a minute before.

When Aaron and Sharilynne had inquired about taking a party, they had no way of knowing the gift they were giving her. Sure, others had hosted at different times through the years, but seldom had any taken the whole night over, or done so with such complete and thorough attention that she was deemed redundant and unnecessary. Tonight, she would get to join the fun and taste the favors. Find and follow through with another of the guests and hope that what she believed was true, instead of being left to vicariously enjoy through the one way glass. Years ago, a safety measure that was insisted upon and agreed to in the early days of the swingers parties to see than none were victimized.

It is one thing to say you want the open rules of anything goes; and another thing entirely to experience it as she had learned long ago. She knew first hand that safe words could be ignored. To reinforce the party rules, one way glass mirrors were installed in each of the rooms with surveillance so that although those inside could have their privacy, or at least the semblance of such, there was someone who could watch at any time and step in. She would often stop by and review the monitors, and would accompany anytime there was a need to escort someone out. In the last decade it had happened maybe twice, but twice was enough to continue the practice. Everyone who came to the party knew that they could be watched and removed; it had been enough for most.

From her post as hostess and later in the evenings as watcher, she knew without a doubt who she wanted to entertain this night as she slipped on her accoutrements for the evening. Aaron and Sharilynne having decked the party goers out with little more than just enough, she hoped that things would go in her favor. She knew what she wanted, and she knew who she wanted to deliver it. Colb Mitras was definitely her first choice. Perhaps six foot tall he had the build of someone who paid attention without the vulgar notion of needing to be bulked out and ridiculous. He was solid without being too much. Sandy brown, disheveled hair and dark coffee eyes, he was tasty to look at. Watching him over the past few years, she knew he could deliver what she craved. He was one to try it all and then go for a little more. She wanted his sense of adventure and freedom, but as his submissive she wanted him to take it. Control it. Make it elusive and force her to reach for it.

Holden Henner with his brooding looks and wicked smile would do, but she hoped for Colb. Knowing the details of the differently themed rooms, she knew she was going into Mardi gras. If both of the men she wanted were odd numbers and sent to Carnival she would settle for finding a soft female to waste the night with, but she was hopeful to get one or the other, or perhaps both to the west room and the North American festival. Time would tell her fortune. Slipping on a feathered G-string, so reminiscent of where she had come from, strings of beads that weren’t enough to cover a woman with far less cleavage, and her mask she slipped the elastic band with the key around her wrist and entered Bourbon Street. Humming to the jazz trumpet wailing, looking for Mr. Mitras she made her way to the table and grabbed a hurricane. Sipping her drink thinking to herself wryly, one to drink now, and maybe another one to rage later and take away her choices. ‘Come on New Orleans, give me a storm.’



Part IV: Another Swing

Part III: Tangyr

Part II: Swingers

Part I:  Swingers


 

Replacements

Welcome to my newest story.  This is going to be something of an experiment for me, as I'm going to write this as it needs to be written every week, and not work it as I would my other projects.  It'll be interesting, if nothing else.

That said, this is always a first draft, and if I missed something in editing, don't beat me up too bad.  Remember:  you get what you pay for.

Replacements

Part Five

I was now Martha's mistress, for better or worse.  It seemed she didn't care about my performance, because over the next three weeks of dom/sub bonding, she professed her love for all I did.  Or was it for me?  She said it was for what I did to her, but sometimes I thought otherwise . . .

I had her come over for that first weekend, which surprised her.  Weekend play was something that didn't occur that often, I gathered, so when I made the offer, Martha didn't refuse.  She must have thought it was going to be all whips and kneeling and . . . well, whatever the hell it was people in "The Life" did when they were together.

I was a novice: I had no experience with the things these people did for entertainment.  So I had to learn--fast. And having Martha around for an extended period of time would help.

Or expose me for the fraud I was.

Mostly what I did was give Martha directions--excuse me, "orders"--and she would follow--excuse me, "obey". As a somewhat manager of my own department before becoming a full-time director of so much more, I knew the difference between barking out orders like a dictator, and issuing orders in such a way that a person doesn't mind doing what you demand.  That was how I treated Martha:  I worked with her in such a way that when I told her to lick the kitchen floor clean, she would relish the task.

Something told me, though, that she would have done that without too much prodding.  I was also under the impression that she held a great number of feelings for me, for Olivia.  It was possible: Olivia had run our division for the last three years, and Martha had worked next to me almost as long.  Assume they'd had a year working together before they discovered they shared a mutual . . . interest . . . which would leave two years for them to develop that interest.

If Martha knew I was different, she didn't let on.  She never showed any puzzlement when I gave her orders, or had her dress me in appropriate wear, or when we even shared a moment together, with her at my feet, and me petting and caressing her, speaking approvingly of her all the while.

Being together in bed would be something entirely different.

Even there, Martha didn't indicate there was anything amiss in this relationship.  Friday night had been easy:  I got up from the sofa and said, "Come with me," and off to the bedroom we went.  I was worried, though--just a little.  My sexual experience with women had been a few nights before, but that night . . . Martha had awakened something inside, and though I was afraid I might flinch, or react badly to something she'd do--or something I might not be able to do--or any number of things that would give up the game; as we disrobed, I felt strangely at ease with her.

We stood facing each other, both naked, and she smiled as I lightly touched her arms, her chest, her neck . . . her breasts.  I'd never realized how soft a woman's skin was, particularly under my soft, moisturized fingertips. Silk on silk, smoothly gliding over each other.  It was an incredible sensation, and Martha was responding to my ministrations in ways far differently that any man I've touched--

The deep blush to her face, visible even in the darkness of the bedroom.  The quivering in her hands and knees.  The light sheen of perspiration just under the curve of her breasts.  The misty glint in her eyes . . . that was one I cherished.

When I'd been with men, and touched them, there hadn't seem to be any concern but rather a look of bored detachment as they waited for me to "get to the business," so to speak.  And when I did get to touching them right where they wanted, they didn't look upon me like a lover with whom they were pleased, but rather a pet that was doing something good.  Half the time I expected to be given a biscuit once I had finished.

Martha's responses were real, heartfelt, genuine.  Every little thing I did for and to her caused her body to react a certain way, for her to feel a certain way, all working in turn with her emotions.  It was a whole different world of love making--though I wondered if she thought of this as "making love," or more along the line that we were going to fuck, and fuck hard, as had happened the other night.

She uttered a soft moan.  "The way you're touching me . . ."  Martha's eyes were half closed as she exhaled slowly between pursed lips.  "So much different than other times, Mistress."

So I am doing things a bit differently, I thought.  "Please, Martha . . ."  I know I was breaking convention here, but I needed to hear something besides titles.  "Call me Olivia."

This opened her eyes, and I expected that.  "Are you--?"  Martha was very confused:  addressing me on a first-name basis was something she obviously hadn't done in years.  "You want this, Mistress?"

I mustered my best 'mistress voice,' without letting my tone break the mood.  "If you call me 'Mistress' again tonight, I'll make you sleep at the foot of the bed."  I smiled as I spoke, letting her see that I wasn't angry.  "That's an order, my lovely sex toy."

That last perked her right up.  "Oh, thank you . . . Olivia."  She reached out to me, touching me lightly, pulling me closer.  "You're so different tonight.  Work getting better?" she whispered.

Yes, it was.  I was dealing with far fewer questions about an employee who tried to commit suicide, and I was dealing with a co-worker who was my personal submissive--

Martha's right hand slid down my side, stopping only when she reached the swell of my hip.  "I feel different as well.  It's having to take over so much--"  She was doing some of the work I used to do in the lab, and I knew she was struggling a little with the responsibility.

"You're doing fine."  I ran the tips of my nails over her cheek.  "You're going to be up to speed in no time."

"But, I--"

"Hush."  I leaned in and kissed her, softly, our lips barely touching, yet making a connection that hadn't been there before.  "This isn't work; there's no talk of business here."  I looked into her eyes.  "There's just us."

Yes, that was that:  no talk of business, no feeling as if we were clumsy with each other, no need to worry if one or the other wasn't acting too differently--

There was just love.  Between us.

The entire night.


Read Part Six Now Read Part Four Again

************
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Faere Warrior: Passion's Price Pt 2

Hope you are enjoying your first taste of Passion's Price.  It's a little different from Love Notes, but more along the lines of my usual writing.

An element of danger and intrigue always lies just below the surface.  People are seldom what they present themselves to be on first impressions. It  takes time to get to know the real person behind the mask, and time is often the one thing we don't have to invest.

Remember, this is a first draft.  It's not had the inspection of a professional editor and all things are subject to change at the author's discretion.  What the author doesn't change may in fact be changed by an editor.  By the time this goes to final publication the only thing that may remain constant is the author.

I'm going to pick this up with the last few paragraphs from before. Buckle up and enjoy the ride.

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Passion's Price Pt 2

by

Ellie Mack

Keegan mounted his bike, then pulled Selena into his arms, half laid across the front of his Dukati. Their kiss deepened, as Keegan slid his hand over her breast. Salena moaned into his mouth.

“Come home with me.” He whispered hoarsely.

    “OK.” She kissed him back aggressively, biting his lip, then holding it between her teeth, pulling back before releasing. She slid out of his arms and straddled the bike behind him. Her arms wrapped around his waist. “Let’s go.”

    He parked his bike in his designated spot and carried the helmets inside, Salena walked in step beside him. The walkway crossed over the highway below, and ended in a small lobby area on the second floor. Keegan took a sharp left after reaching the lobby area heading down the hallway to his room.

    "It's only temporary, I'm lookin' for an apartment, but just arrived in toon a few days ago."  He keyed the door, flipped the light switch and opened a mirrored door. He set his helmets on the top wire shelf, and hung his jacket on the hanger.  He did the same for Selena's jacket.

    Salena glanced around the simple efficiency unit, noting that it didn't look like anyone was staying there and wondered if he was military.  Before she could ask, Keegan had her pinned against the wall, kissing her deep, demanding.

     Salena practically melted at his touch. Once she recovered from the initial shock to her senses she matched him move for move.  Their tongues battling for dominance in their wet dance as he clasped her hands above her head pressed into the wall. She was lost in him: his scent overpowering her, his touch igniting flames of passion that she hadn't felt in a very long time.  

     Keegan pressed into her body, his hard lines against her curves, a coiled heat lurking, barely restrained.  He kissed a trail up her jaw line.  Salena gasped as his knee parted her legs then pressed into her mound.  Just then he sucked her earlobe, causing an electric sensation to short circuit any rational thought she may have had before that moment. 

    Keegan found himself on his back, pushed down on the bed, Salena laying on top of him, kissing him with a demanding passion that made him realize, he may have gotten more than he bargained for.  He smiled, satisfied that he'd finally met a woman who wasn't shy or timid.  He had yet to meet a woman who could fully satisfy his desires.  Tonight, that might change.

    He rolled Salena under him, pinning her with a firm hard kiss, as her hands roamed over his body.  "Aye, ye're a hot one aren' ya?"

     She merely moaned as she lifted up pressing her mouth to his  pulling his head down. Soft mewling noises mingled between them as they explored and undressed each other. 

     Keegan kissed a trail down her toned body, kissing at the defined lines of muscles on her abdomen, kissed her hip bones, the tendon at the top of her thigh, then paused just above the heart shaped patch of pubes, glancing up at  her with half lidded eyes. 
    
     "Do you want this?" His tongue flicked once over her clit.  Salena made a quick gasp.
    
     "Yes" Her breath was hoarse, barely above a whisper.
    
     His tongue darted out again.  "Then ask me for it."
    
     "Please lick me, suck me, make me come in your mouth."

     Never had a woman spoken so boldly, letting him know exactly what she wanted without much more coaxing.  As he dove between her legs, determined to make her cry out multiple times before he moved on to other activities, Keegan knew this girl was different.  Not just the attitude, but there was something else; something provocative.  Something that dared him to give in to baser desires he'd held in check. 

     Salena was lost in her desires.  After the first orgasm, she surrendered to the overwhelming lust she'd held back for so many years. She didn't know why this guy got her so hot. There were many nice looking men that were muscular that had wanted her over the years.  Why this one?  Why this red haired Scot?  After the third orgasm she didn't care.  She'd do anything for him. She'd let him do anything to her. She would fulfill his kinkiest dirty desires if he would just keep this up. 

     After five orgasms Keegan moved up her body, rubbing his cum soaked face over her abs as he went before he kissed her roughly.  "Wow!  I knew you were hot, but I never expected how much."  He positioned his head right at her junction.  "Are ye ready for me lass?"

    She nodded, breathing hard, anxious for the sensation.

    "Ask me for it."

    "Please."  she had to take a breath. "Please give it to me.  All of it.  Everything.  Please Keegan."

    Hearing his name on her lips was sheer heaven to him. He pushed slightly, slowly, prolonging the sensation. His tongue invading her mouth in similar movement. Slow and tender soon gave way to wild and frenzied. 

     Many hours later, Keegan sound asleep in the bed Salena glanced at her lover.  He was the best she'd had in centuries, but she couldn't stay.  She could never stay.  She quietly dressed and slipped out the door, leaving him a quick note.

     You were the best I've ever had!  You are amazing.  Hope I'll see you again soon.  Had to leave to go to work. 
                                    Salena


     With one final glance back at her sleeping lover, she pulled the door until she heard the click. She dashed back to her car, then to her house, telling herself this changed nothing.                  


   
    

Replacements

Welcome to my newest story.  This is going to be something of an experiment for me, as I'm going to write this as it needs to be written every week, and not work it as I would my other projects.  It'll be interesting, if nothing else.

That said, this is always a first draft, and if I missed something in editing, don't beat me up too bad.  Remember:  you get what you pay for.

Replacements

Part One

It isn't necessary to know me, or to know my name.  All you need know, for now, are my motives.  And my actions.

All else is irrelevant.

You could say I'm obsessive about everything.  I'm that way with my life; I'm that way with my work.  I tend to plan things out so there are no surprises, no questions about why something happened.  So when I saw Craig Linkston for the first time, two things happened.  One, I wanted to be with him.  Two, I couldn't get him out of my mind.

Like it or not, he became something I obsessed over.  Again and again.

You'd be surprised to know I've had affairs before.  I'm not one of these geeks girls who spends all her time in the lab, thinking about science and formulas, and how I can bring about a breakthrough in my work.  No, I've actually been with men.  I've been on dates.  I've been in love.  I'm not a virgin, either:  I've enjoyed physical love as much as any other woman.

But something has always been missing.  A connection, a lack of empathy between me and whomever I was with at the time.  Take Ernie.  He was a great guy, with a great sense of humor.  He loved me, he really did.  He desired me like few people ever did, and told me every day that he loved me like no other.

He also had genitals . . . oh, god.  It was like being screwed by an adult film actor.  The first time he entered me, I could feel him as if he'd penetrated me all the way to my stomach.  He was huge.  He filled and stretched me like I was a teen having sex for the first time.  I screamed when he ejaculated, as I felt him pump away inside me . . .

The sex was great.  But I felt nothing for him beyond that.  He was a fuck toy to me, just another friend with benefits, but nothing else.

I needed more.  I needed to feel more than a large penis inside me.

I needed to feel love.

I felt that with Craig.  The second I saw him, standing in the corridor outside my office, my heart connected to him, and I knew he was mine.  He was my soul mate.  He was the one who owned my heart.

There was a problem, however.  That problem's name was Olivia D'avana.

Olivia was my supervisor.  Well, not really.  I reported to her, but she really didn't know my work, not the way my assistant knows it, or I know it.  But she was a member of the Executive Staff for Bio-Futrara, so as the head of my section, I gave her my reports, and met with her every week.

She was gorgeous.  She was a tall woman, with long, shapely legs, and very toned arms.  She wasn't a hard body, though; she carried a bit more weight than needed in her hips and butt, but because she had broad shoulders, her silhouette was more of a marvelous hourglass than a pear.

But her skin tone . . . she'd told me her father had been a British architect, and an amateur body builder, and her mother was an accountant from Jamaica who'd met her father when they worked on a project together in Seattle.  She'd remarked that she'd come away with her father's physique, her mother's skin tone, and the intelligence of both.

Craig was seeing Olivia.  I knew this.  I'd seen them together a few times, in the office, in the hallway.  I saw how they looked at each other.  I noticed how Craig softened around her, the way his fingers lightly touched her hand as he drew away after handing her a file.

They were together.  It wasn't fair, because he was my soul mate, and for them to be together was wrong.

Craig needed to understand that she was completely wrong for him.

As I said, I'm a bit obsessive.  I plan, because I desire a particular outcome, and I don't like to be blindsided by surprises.  So, for weeks, I planed out how to get Craig away from Olivia.  How to get him to notice me.  How to show him that I was his soul mate, and that he need never look anywhere for anyone else.

When I finally realized what was needed to make this all come true, I was surprised I didn't come to the conclusion sooner:

All I had to do was take over Olivia's life.

Fortunately, I knew exactly how to make that happen . . .


Read Part Two Here


If you have something you want to say, leave a comment!
See you next week.

Love Notes Chapter 10

Have you been  enjoying Love Notes?  Leave a comment and let me know what you think of it.  This is the last installment for the free share.  If you are interested in continuing with Love Notes, leave me a message and I'll let you know when it's published!  Thank you everyone for the support. Next week will begin a new story, a paranormal romance.

 
Now, let's back up a bit from last week's ending.  I did tell you this was a first draft?  Well I made a huge change in the plot and took off in a different direction.  I think you'll like the changes.

Love Notes Chapter 10

by

Ellie Mack & Ben Hannigan

chapter 9

            She quickly jumped up to answer. "Hello?" It was a London number, but not Rob.

            "Ms. Colson? Stephanie Colson?" It was a sultry female voice.

            "Yes?" She couldn't imagine who it could be. "Who is this?"

            "Ms. Colson, there's been an accident. Mr. Taylor has requested you be notified. He's in critical condition. "

            She didn't hear anything else the woman said. "What? Rob is hurt? Where? What happened?" Tears welled in her eyes. No, this couldn't be happening. "What room? Where do I need to go?"

            "Calm down Ms. Colson. He's stable at the moment, but if you could get here soon."

            "Yes, yes of course just give me the address." She scribbled furiously, swiping at the tears.   She closed out the call, looking around feeling immense guilt that she'd been masturbating while he was in critical condition. "Oh baby I'm so sorry," It came out barely more than a whisper. Quickly she dressed, and slipped on a pair of sandals. Mr. Prince was roughly tossed back into the box, the lid set on top. She grabbed a light sweater on her way out.

            Frantically Stephanie went to the front desk and asked the man what was the best way to get to the hospital from there.  Smelling the alcohol on her he called a cab. It was only a few minutes before the cab arrived.

Chapter 10

            Stephanie slid into the seat. “Alright love, where’s it you need to be?”

            She thrust the paper in front of him, as she could barely keep from bursting into tears. Her lips quivering , she gave him an anguished look.

            The driver tried to make small talk.  “OK, so you need to get to the hospital, got a mate in there or family?”

            “My boyfriend.”  Stephanie blinked furiously, her breathing coming in small pants, her voice barely more than a whisper.

            "Should be about 20 depending on this fucking traffic.  Get a move on mate!  I haven’t got all sodding day.  Sorry about that.  This fuckwit in the van can’t drive.”

            “No problem.”  She swiped at her tears.

            He reaches into the glove box and hands her a tissue. “If it’s a mate in there they’ll be fine.  It’s a good place.  It’s where I’d go if I had the choice.  Stay green!  Come on you fucking clown move!  Fucking tourist drivers.”  He leaned out of the window towards the car. “Stay out of London!” He turned his head back to her. “Sorry Love.”

            Stephanie turned from the window to look at the driver.   Danny Bowers, the license tag read. “Yes.  He was in an accident.”

            “Is he ok love? Or you not been told anything? Want to stop get him anything? Paper?  Bunch of grapes?”

            “Bunch of grapes?  What?”  The driver gave her a sly grin explaining a British perceived custom.  She realized he was trying to lighten her mood.  The tears flowed now, a steady stream down her cheeks.  She nodded at the driver keeping her blurred gaze out the window. ‘Please God let him be ok.’  She couldn’t picture her life without Rob, didn’t want to.  Somehow, he had to be ok for them to be together. 

                                    *                      *                      *                      *                      *

                Rob  rolled into the small car park and waited.  His orders were to meet the contact and hand over the package; nice, easy, simple. He really needed to come clean with Stephanie, share the truth with her.  He wasn't wearing his body amour because it would have been awkward to hide in the hotel room.  It was a safety violation but the job didn’t seem to be dangerous enough to need it.  Still, he checked his holster making sure it was secured one last time.

                The van rolled in and as the door slid open he realized that he had really dropped a bullock here. This wasn’t going to be a simple package handover.  Rather than the single courier he expected, the van was full of armed men.  They casually stepped out into positions, preparing for a shootout. 

                Drawing casually, the last thing he thought before the first shot rang out was “Bugger! I’ve been having such a good week as well.” They shot first; he took one to the right arm.  He radioed in to his boss on the emergency signal that ‘something was very wrong’ before taking his shooting stance. He executed a perfect Mozambique drill on the first two shooters, the third took a bullet to the chest and dropped immediately, and the final shooter dove back into the van spraying a burst from a clunky looking submachine gun.  It nailed Rob in the left leg.  A sharp pain hit him in his gut as he dove out of the rain of bullets.  Rob fired, smiling in satisfaction upon hearing the scream which indicated a hit.  He radioed the plates on the van to his boss before he allowed himself to hit the floor and sink into the relative escapist bliss of unconsciousness.

                He was awakened about fifteen minutes later by a paramedic who tried to convince him to go to hospital.

                 “Look mate, just patch me up. I need to go speak to the boss.” Rob stood and limped from the ambulance bandaged.  When challenged he flashed his ID badge and was allowed to leave when the police realized that this was a “Firm” job.   Flagging down a cab, he got back to Vauxhall and walked through security, dripping a trail of blood as he went to report to the boss.

                After his grilling he limped to his bike, feeling the pain from his wounds now that the adrenaline rush was receding.  He sped home to his flat, feeling the let down hit him hard. He jumped in the shower and threw on a change of clothes.   He  texted  Stephanie asking her to come to the flat.

                He managed to get to the door and the world went black.  Rob’s elderly neighbor Mrs. Tillman found Rob slumped on the pavement in his entryway with a mobile phone in his hand displaying the message “Error message not sent.”  She immediately called Danielle Vicenzi, Rob’s beautiful girlfriend. She arrived in mere minutes, stepping out of a black Range Rover with two other men.  Danielle motioned the men, and thanked Mrs. Tillman.  “We’ll get him checked out.  He’s been working long hours lately.”   The two men carried Rob to the car supported between them.  They rushed him to the small private hospital he officially worked for. He was rushed into theatre, and immediately prepped for surgery.  They were the finest surgeons in the entirety of the UK, but Rob had lost a lot of blood.  They  patched up his wounds and set up in a private room under guard.

                Rob drifted in and out of consciousness as the anesthesia wore off.  Unbeknownst to him his handler was there watching, waiting for the arrival of this mystery yank who had captured the heart of the gent she referred to as hers.

                He awoke to a hand wiping his brow with a damp cloth, dabbing at the sweat.  He smiled deeply “Steph”.  The figure growled and stood fuming, waiting for this yank to arrive.

                *                             *                             *                             *                             *

                Stephanie swiped at the tears, not even trying to hide them now.  She paid the cabbie “Thank you Danny.”  She ran into the hospital, heading for the main desk to ask directions.  She was issued a pass card for the fifth floor.  Stephanie found the restrooms next to the elevator, and washed her face, attempting to hide the swollen eyes, and streaked makeup.  She touched up her makeup, and dabbed a little blush.  It would never fool Rob, but she looked a little better.

                Not having any idea what she was walking into, she said a quick prayer and hoped for the best.  As soon as the elevator opened she knew it was much worse than she had anticipated.  The guard was armed, and asked to see her pass.  He directed her down the corridor to where two more armed men stood by a door.  When she approached, one of them asked for the pass.  She strained to see around him into the room to see Rob.  It was no use.  The guard efficiently blocked her view and her path.  He radioed “Your yank is here.”

                A tall slender woman walked from the room.  She had the grace and beauty of a model.  Long flowing dark hair, big doe eyes that were vivid blue, full luscious lips, a long neck, average sized breasts and slender waist and hips.  She strode with an air of confidence that most women envied.  She wore black fitted trousers, and a black leather blazer over a white mock turtleneck figure hugging sweater.  In two seconds Stephanie knew she was Rob’s lover, either past or present.

                She couldn’t blame him really, what man could resist a woman that looked like this?  Was he still seeing her?  Her heart sank and the tears threatened to rise for another reason.  Stephanie gulped as the elegant woman reached out her hand.  “Dani Vicenzi, I work with Rob.  Let’s walk shall we?”

                It had been her voice on the phone.  “But Rob.”  Stephanie wanted desperately to see him, to make sure he was ok. 

                “He’s stable.  Let’s walk.”  Her voice was curt, and she had a grasp on Stephanie’s elbow that was almost painful.  Dani led her to a small table in a waiting room, where she pulled the chair out for her, motioning her to sit as if she were a criminal.

                Stephanie sat, her defenses rising.  She had never imagined Rob would be hurt.  She certainly hadn’t anticipated meeting his lover, and now the woman was assessing her with a look of disapproval that clearly stated she felt Stephanie was no threat to her. 

                “So I finally get to meet Rob’s yank.  We had a good thing ‘til you came along.”  The woman glanced to the windows, her jaw clenched.  “He’s in this mess because of you, you know.  Trying to protect you from the truth, he didn’t wear his armour, and he’s lost a lot of blood.”

                “What?” Stephanie was stunned by her statement. “What happened?  What truth?”

                “Huh!  As I expected.  He hasn’t even told you, has he?”  Dani leaned forward, clasping her hands together and made a menacing smile.  “Well, I’ve nothing to fear then have I?  You’re just another passing fancy. He’ll ship you back to the states, and this will all be over?”  Dani eased back in her chair, her arm draped over the back. "Hopefully sooner than later."

                “What truth?  What has happened to Rob?”  She had to ignore the woman’s words.  Even if they were true, there was nothing she could do now and crying wasn’t going to help. She cared about Rob, and even if he did ship her back, she couldn’t just walk away from him being injured.

                “He was making a routine exchange, except it went wrong.  There were six of them, and they got the drop on Rob.  He took three bullets. We didn’t know about the third, until we got him here and prepped.”  She  glared at Stephanie assessing her, and passing the guilty verdict all at once.  “He’s been asking for you.”

                “I’d like to see him, please.”  Beautiful women always got away with being bitches.  This one was being especially bitchy to her.  Stephanie gambled, based on her earlier statement that she wasn’t a current lover but the ex.  Probably recent ex, explaining this anger directed at Stephanie.  “I was not aware that Rob was engaged in any other relationship.  When he’s feeling well, we’ll confront him together.  Right now I’d like to see him, please.”  The last almost pleading with the woman’s sensibilities.

                “Hmmph.”  She stood, raising slowly from the table. “Do not upset him.”

                Stephanie stood, squaring off with Dani. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

                They walked the short distance down the hall, Stephanie close on Danielle’s heels.  She knew the woman wouldn’t leave her alone with Rob, it didn’t matter.  She had to see him. When she rounded the corner to his bed, she wasn’t prepared for the tubes, and machines that he was surrounded by.  Her hand went to her mouth as she gasped.  Stephanie quickly stepped to his side. “Rob baby, what happened?”  Her hand stroked his hand as the tears fell.  A light brush from her other hand swiped the strand of hair from his face. “Oh baby, I’m here.”

                Rob shifted in the bed, turning his head towards his angel's voice. “Steph” his voice weak and raspy.

                “I’m here baby.”  She leaned in close to him, kissing his forehead. 

                “I messed up babe.  I was going to tell you.  I didn’t want you to find out like this.”

                The tears welled.  So it was true.  Dani was his lover. She was just a bit on the side, to pass the time.  She leaned over, kissing his forehead again.  “It’s OK Rob, you can tell me all about it when you’re well.”  She pushed down the urge to lash out at him.  She'd been the one that assumed there was more than it was.  She clamped down her emotions like a vice, putting on her professional face. "I'm here for you Rob."

                He smiled weakly up at her. “Stay with me?”

                “Sure baby.  I just got here.  I’ll stay for as long as you want me here.” She couldn’t help but glance at Dani.  The mixed emotions of the woman's rudeness to her, the anger at Rob for putting her in the middle of this triangle, the heartache seeing him pale and weak in the hosptial bed all churned within her heart, causing it to ache  in a way she never even felt at Trevor's betrayal.  How could she be so naive?  She moved the strand of hair that kept falling forward back into place again. Despite the heartache, she decided that she'd stay until Rob was better.  Then she'd gather her things, head home and bury herself in work and try to forget Rob Taylor, the man she loved.  "For you, I'll stay."

                Dani rolled her eyes, turned and stepped out of the room.

                She scooted the chair close to his bed. He rolled slightly on his side facing her, letting out a pained wince as he tried to adjust to a comfortable position.  She sat on her knees in the chair, raised up just slightly to be closer to him.  She leaned over again to kiss his forehead and he raised his lips to hers.  “I’m sorry my darling.  It wasn’t suppose to go down like this.”

                She nodded in agreement.  He probably never intended her to know about Dani, much less be in the situation where they’d meet.  Even though she knew Dani was just outside the door and could come back any minute, or maybe even wishing that somehow he’d choose her over gorgeous Dani, Stephanie kissed him.  A light brushing of her lips against his.  A gentle loving kiss like they’d shared  on the sofa.  “I’m here Rob.  I’ll stay with you.”

                Just till he got well.  Until he was able to be on his own.  Then she’d pack up and go home and try to get over her broken heart.

                “Can you get closer darling?  Lay here beside me?”

                “Oh I don’t know if the nurses would like that.”

                He looked so sad and disappointed. “OK."  She conceded.  "But if the nurse yells at me I’m telling her you wanted me to.”

                He grinned weakly “And I’ll deny it and play innocent.” 

                She scooted onto the edge of the bed, easing between him and the side rail.  It was an uncomfortable fit, but she didn’t want to make him move again as painful as it sounded when he did. 

                His arm went around her, and held her close. “OH Gods Stephanie. All I could think about is you.  About us.  How I messed everything up now.”

                How  could it feel so right to lay in his arms, yet know it was so wrong with the other woman outside the door?  “You can tell me all about it later babe.  Get some rest so you can heal.” The sooner  he healed the sooner she could go back to her life alone.

                Just then the nurse came in.  She cleared her throat. “Miss, we generally don’t allow the visitors to share the patient’s bed.”

                Stephanie blushed and started to move back to the chair. “NO!  She stays with me.” For an injured man, his grip was tight as he held her close to him.

                The nurse stepped closer putting a shot of something in his iv drip.  “Yes sir, Mr. Taylor.”  She gave a slight smile to Stephanie.  “Just be careful with your lines.”

                Stephanie was acutely aware of the tubes attached to various parts of him. “Where’s the call button if he needs you?”

                The nurse reached behind Stephanie’s back, “there’s a call button right here on the rail; and there’s one there.”  She motioned on the wall just behind the iv caddy.

                Rob cuddled into Stephanie, kissing her throat softly. The medication was already taking effect as he drifted into sleep.  Her fingers played over his muscular arms and down his back.  He was asleep in minutes.  Stephanie quietly asked the nurse to fill her in on his injuries.  The nurse got the chart and quietly shared the information about the bullet wounds.  Stephanie’s brows furrowed. “Bullet wounds?  What?  How?”

                The nurse answered her “ I don’t know how just where.  She leaned over Stephanie.  He’s been asking for you since he came in, assumin’ you’re Stephanie.”

                She nodded in agreement that she was.

                “That harpie out there has been irritatin’ him something fierce. Pacing back and forth, questioning Mr. Taylor.” She patted Stephanie’s arms.  “Being a regular nuisance, questioning me about my job.  You just stay put right there, and I’ll get a pillow so you can get more comfortable.”   She brought Stephanie an extra pillow and even a blanket.  She placed a plastic bag with toiletries on the tray.  “If you need anything you just buzz me.” 

                Rob snuggled closer, wincing slightly as his movement strained, a drowsy rumble in his chest as he relaxed into her.  She slowly drifted off to sleep entwined with Rob, perhaps for the last time.