Sorry I’ve been awol. Asshole writer, I know. But I’m back, and I hope never to be an asshole again. *snickers* Good luck with that. Anyway, in this unedited snippet, Laurel’s feelin’ pretty good about old Sam. He’s being a doll, really, and we need that, don’t we girls? Men can be shits, but they can also act like this – RW
…There was no point in looking for hidden meanings in every word, gesture or look. It was one lesson she’d learned and learned well from her favorite movie, “He’s Just Not That Into You.” When a man told you something, you had two options. Believe him, or not. But always know, men lied when there was pussy on the table. Their actions, however, their actions could be counted on as the gospel.
By that token, Sam was hooked. He’d already called and texted, twice. All three times to say really random things. Her favorite: Had she eaten? Yep, she answered. Oatmeal.
That’s it? He answered, like she was starving to death. Then: we’re going out for dinner tonight. Be ready at 7. Okay, she answered, glad they were just texting, and he had no way to know how big she was smiling.
She decided to go out and buy a new dress for dinner.
“And nothing black, grey, navy or that’s even remotely suitable for work,” she muttered, flipping through the racks at Marshalls.
She was going to find something young, and tight, that showed either her legs or her breasts. Preferably the latter, since he was sure to stare at them. Then, maybe he wouldn’t see her staring at him.
She ended up buying three new dresses, a new pair of shoes, some black undies and a few other things, including some big, sparkly hoop earrings that she loved so much she put them in immediately. She and the saleslady both laughed at her exuberant joy in the baubles. When the woman pointed out a knuckleduster to complement them, she bought it too.
Sam approved of her new appearance. Laurel could see it in his eyes. That and he nodded and said. “Nice. This is how you should look. Black is an accent for a woman like you, not a staple.”
She didn’t know what that meant, but she’d take it.
Her new dress and look seemed to set the tone for the evening, and they laughed and laughed and talked more than they ever had. She had two glasses of wine, which helped tremendously, and earned herself another approving look when she cut her own self off after the second.
“Don’t like drunk women?” she teased.
“Not consistently, no. Although, I don’t mind them occasionally, as long as they’re not too drunk. But there’s a line. Too many people don’t know when to stop, then they cross it, and become a mess. That’s annoying. This way is just fun.”
It sure was. When they went for a little walk after dinner to settle their food and the strap on one of her new shoes slipped for the fourth time he held her while she slipped the shoe off, then tossed her onto his back, carrying her the last half block to his car.
She grinned like a loon, laughing outright when he ordered her to, “Make sure that dress is covering your ass. I don’t need all the horny fuckers out tonight eyeballing what’s mine.”
A few minutes later in front of his car, he told her to stand on his shoes so her feet didn’t touch the pavement then swung her back to the ground. He wasn’t even breathing hard, but she was after he stole a kiss. When he finally let her go she was damp and red cheeked. He nodded at her, lifted her hair out of the way to put a last sucking kiss on her neck, then put her in the car.
That night their lovemaking wasn’t rough. Well, it was a little bit, but it was more fun. He taught her to ride him, smirking when she lost control and did just as he predicted, “You’re gonna like this position so much you’ll probably go wild fucking yourself on this big cock. I’ll just have to lay back and take it.” His martyred air was ridiculous, and she laughed in his face, but he was right.
The orgasm was so strong, Laurel slept for a few minutes afterwards, waking to find herself in his arms beside a full tub of bubbles. She didn’t say a word when he gathered her hair in a high knot and secured it with a thick rubber band. He’d done it easily, like he’d done it more than a time or two before, but she didn’t let the jealous thought take root. She just sighed her pleasure, and sank in to her neck, big gold eyes blinking sleepily at him as he got in with her.
“You’re taking a bath.”
“I do it every now and then,” he claimed, so virtuously she laughed and he splashed her with a face full of water and bubbles.
She leaned back to relax, and he pulled her legs into his lap under the water, lazily rubbing her legs and thoroughly massaging her feet. She sighed deeply when he pulled on each toe and gently dug into her arches with his thumbs. Her eyes closed when he rotated her foot at the ankle and moved on to the other one…