Read Online Heat Wave - Part 2 - Erotika Short Stories for Women (Adult Short Stories for Women Series) by E.M. Flemming - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: E.M. Flemming
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looking
forward to getting back to my place and unwinding, having a hot bath, then
sitting down in front of the computer with a cup of coffee. Yes, it was
nighttime, but I lived off coffee. I could drink coffee at any point in the day
or night, and be okay. When I was ready for bed, I could just sleep. The coffee
wouldn’t keep me from sleeping. I’m not sure why that is, but I’ve always been
that way. Everyone that I’ve ever come across thinks it’s strange, but that’s
just the way that I am.
“Are you here on vacation?” the driver asked. I guess I was
leaving a hotel room at night, and I did look like I was going out somewhere on
the town, but, unfortunately, I was just heading home.
“No, I live here. I was just visiting with a friend who’s in
town. He’s staying at the hotel.” Well, that was a big lie.
“A friend?”
“Yes, a friend,” I said. The cab driver looked at me
suspiciously. Was he trying to read my mind, or just undress me like every
other cab driver in the city? I could see him casting some clever
misconceptions in his mind about who I was or what I did for a living.
“Which building?”
“Right here, over on the right hand side please,” I said. We
had pulled up to my building, and good old Ernie, the doorman, was outside to
open the taxi door for me.
“Welcome back, Ms. Beckett,” he said. He was always so
friendly.
I paid the fare, got out of the taxi, and caught his eyes
checking me out once again. I guess I couldn’t blame him for being a man. Did
you know that men think about sex once every seven seconds. Yes, that’s 8,000
times per day. Eight thousand. And I thought I was a freak. When I read that
statistic, it all made much more sense to me. Men are obsessed with sex. Well,
so am I, but they are much more obsessed with sex than I am.
But sometimes, I don’t mind it. I don’t mind that a man
undresses me, and wants to devour me, especially when those men are as handsome
and rich as Robert Dorning.
Oh, Robert Dorning.
I guess the name did still have a certain charm to it. I
guess I was still at odds with myself. I was trying to block him out, but part
of me wanted to let him back in. And by “back in,” I mean, all the way in. Yes,
it was some good go we had at it, and well worth it. But hopefully I’ll still
feel that way once I’ve finished dealing with the fallout.
I’m still unsure of how it’s all going to play out, but as I
walked through the front doors, and across the marble and limestone lobby of my
building, I thought about it all again. I thought about him touching me,
sending shivers through my body. I thought about how my body quivered and ached
for him. I thought about how much I shuddered when we both climaxed. And as the
elevator doors closed, all I could think about again was Robert Dorning.
2
It was a good feeling being back in
my apartment. There’s something so endearing about coming home, back to your
own place after a night (or a day) out on the town. I don’t know about you, but
home is my little sanctuary. As hectic as my mind – and libido – can
be at times, I have the comfort of unwinding when I’m at home. It’s where I can
relax, and work all at the same time. And walking in that evening, it felt
good, really good to be home. I’m not used to drinking, and having those drinks
early with Robert Dorning was a bit of a shock to my system. I had a really
good friend who I watched die due to a struggle with alcoholism, so I promised
myself I wouldn’t partake in any sort of excess drinking.
As I looked at my laptop, I became excited to start tapping
away at the keyboard. The romp with Robert Dorning really got my mind stirring,
and I needed to vent. I needed to figure out just what was going on in my mind.
Sometimes, I couldn’t understand it myself. The fact that I went ahead and slept
with my best friend’s husband could be found deplorable to some people. But
somehow, and some way, I was able to reason it in my
forward to getting back to my place and unwinding, having a hot bath, then
sitting down in front of the computer with a cup of coffee. Yes, it was
nighttime, but I lived off coffee. I could drink coffee at any point in the day
or night, and be okay. When I was ready for bed, I could just sleep. The coffee
wouldn’t keep me from sleeping. I’m not sure why that is, but I’ve always been
that way. Everyone that I’ve ever come across thinks it’s strange, but that’s
just the way that I am.
“Are you here on vacation?” the driver asked. I guess I was
leaving a hotel room at night, and I did look like I was going out somewhere on
the town, but, unfortunately, I was just heading home.
“No, I live here. I was just visiting with a friend who’s in
town. He’s staying at the hotel.” Well, that was a big lie.
“A friend?”
“Yes, a friend,” I said. The cab driver looked at me
suspiciously. Was he trying to read my mind, or just undress me like every
other cab driver in the city? I could see him casting some clever
misconceptions in his mind about who I was or what I did for a living.
“Which building?”
“Right here, over on the right hand side please,” I said. We
had pulled up to my building, and good old Ernie, the doorman, was outside to
open the taxi door for me.
“Welcome back, Ms. Beckett,” he said. He was always so
friendly.
I paid the fare, got out of the taxi, and caught his eyes
checking me out once again. I guess I couldn’t blame him for being a man. Did
you know that men think about sex once every seven seconds. Yes, that’s 8,000
times per day. Eight thousand. And I thought I was a freak. When I read that
statistic, it all made much more sense to me. Men are obsessed with sex. Well,
so am I, but they are much more obsessed with sex than I am.
But sometimes, I don’t mind it. I don’t mind that a man
undresses me, and wants to devour me, especially when those men are as handsome
and rich as Robert Dorning.
Oh, Robert Dorning.
I guess the name did still have a certain charm to it. I
guess I was still at odds with myself. I was trying to block him out, but part
of me wanted to let him back in. And by “back in,” I mean, all the way in. Yes,
it was some good go we had at it, and well worth it. But hopefully I’ll still
feel that way once I’ve finished dealing with the fallout.
I’m still unsure of how it’s all going to play out, but as I
walked through the front doors, and across the marble and limestone lobby of my
building, I thought about it all again. I thought about him touching me,
sending shivers through my body. I thought about how my body quivered and ached
for him. I thought about how much I shuddered when we both climaxed. And as the
elevator doors closed, all I could think about again was Robert Dorning.
2
It was a good feeling being back in
my apartment. There’s something so endearing about coming home, back to your
own place after a night (or a day) out on the town. I don’t know about you, but
home is my little sanctuary. As hectic as my mind – and libido – can
be at times, I have the comfort of unwinding when I’m at home. It’s where I can
relax, and work all at the same time. And walking in that evening, it felt
good, really good to be home. I’m not used to drinking, and having those drinks
early with Robert Dorning was a bit of a shock to my system. I had a really
good friend who I watched die due to a struggle with alcoholism, so I promised
myself I wouldn’t partake in any sort of excess drinking.
As I looked at my laptop, I became excited to start tapping
away at the keyboard. The romp with Robert Dorning really got my mind stirring,
and I needed to vent. I needed to figure out just what was going on in my mind.
Sometimes, I couldn’t understand it myself. The fact that I went ahead and slept
with my best friend’s husband could be found deplorable to some people. But
somehow, and some way, I was able to reason it in my
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