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Surprises – Just a Taste


Cover 200x300Surprises – Chapter Six

Just a taste of my newly published book. Tell me what you think.

Available exclusively from Redmund Productions.


“Where are you?” Your voice rumbles over the phone late at night, waking me from dreams.

“Sleeping, in my bed. Where else would I be?”

“Go unlock the front door and get back in the bed. I will be there in two hours.”

Two hours. How will you be here in two hours? I think to myself as I stare at the clock by the side of the bed. It reads one a.m. What in the hell? I shake off the last vestige of sleep, throw a robe over my nude body and walk to the front door, even while thinking, was that really you or a dream? Two hours he says. It’s been weeks and he gives me two hours. I best move quickly if I want to at least wash the sleep from my body and have him find me under clean sheets. Even as I start the shower, gather a towel and pull sheets from the bed I can feel my body responding to your voice and the thought of your eminent arrival. Blood rushes to my clit, and my pussy starts to throb just knowing you will soon be here. No time. I will save it all for you.

We have reverted back to our routines of phone calls and e-mail since our first weekend together. Now though they are filled with what we have discovered, what we know about each other and what we still want to know. As the water beats down on me and the steam fills the bathroom I consider our conversations since we were last together and how different they have become, especially how there has been a change in our dynamic, a change that started during our weekend and continued during our weeks apart. We ranged in our talks, first how I felt about the sexual exploration. You pushed for me to open up and give honest answers. There were times I couldn’t answer immediately, where my silence told you I had to consider my answer. It was then you told me to write my answers to you, in detail with nothing withheld.

You have occupied a greater portion of my mind since we were together than I would have expected. I sit in front of my computer screen at work, staring at rows of numbers or a schedule and suddenly your voice is in my head, I can hear you telling me what you want to do to me the next time we are together and I lose entirely my train of thought. Worse still, some picture, pornographic and raw, has burned into my mind and I have drifted off into an erotic daydream featuring the two of us in place of the models. I no longer recognize myself, I am two maybe even three people and I am uncertain, which is the true me. Every morning I walk into my closet and cover the body you taught me to love with my ‘uniform’ of corporate respectability, as I dress I glance at the silk and satin I bought to wear while you were here, the dresses that threw respectability to the wind. In meetings I direct men and women to their tasks, my voice is sure and I am the ‘boss’, no hesitation or question. Yet, since you left I find myself drifting during meetings, thinking of our weekend or our most recent conversation.

Through our written exchanges, we delved deeper into boundaries, especially mine. We explored what had happened between us, what I had willingly offered to you, what you had asked of me and why. More pictures were exchanged between us; some of them were initially shocking even while they begin raise questions in my mind, about where we were going the direction of our relationship the path we were walking and what you wanted from me, whether I was a willing participant or simply curious. I wonder, even as I stand under the shower how far and where would this go next. I considered our last e-mail exchange, and my tongue-in-cheek opening, ‘My Master’ was this truer than I knew.

Our weekend has changed the direction of my writing, my concentration is disrupted and my writing was certainly taking a strange new direction. Where before I could easily sit for hours with only a cool glass of water and quiet music in the background, now I find my words drifting toward a new edginess, sometimes I don’t recognize what I have typed as my own. Whether articles for clients, journal entries or poems all seem to be infused with a new, different tang; a freedom and potential I hadn’t seen before. Is this freshness from our exchanges, from you pushing me to write you what I am thinking and feeling I cannot help but wonder as I stand under the shower spray.

Clean, freshly shaved and scented with my favorite lotion, I crawl back between fresh sheets to wait for you. Even the friction of my legs rubbing together sets sparks against the back of my eyelids. I haven’t bothered with clothing you would only have to remove, only the chain you left around my hips the last time you were here. I want you to have access to every part of me as soon as you arrive in case you are only here for hours instead of days. As I think these thoughts, thoughts of your arrival, thoughts of fucking you and pulling your dick into my mouth ‘til you beg me to stop, I drift off, back to dreams, but now they are of you.

Your kiss, at first, I think it is part of a dream. Right there on my neck, as you take the skin at my collarbone between your teeth, running your fingers over nipples before lifting first one then the other to your mouth. We haven’t even said hello, and my hips are beginning a dance, my cunt dripping already as your hand trails down my waist and across hipbones to my aching clit. With one hand you spread me wide, massaging my engorged nub with your thumb while fingers continue further exploration suddenly piercing me. At that moment you rise up and kiss me for the first time and I explode moaning into your mouth, my arms wrap around you in welcome.

About Scarlett Baker

Writer, artist and thrill seeker. Scarlett is a mystery, even to herself at times. Her exploration of love stories with a touch of the dark began when she found herself single and dangling by a thread of hope mixed with a splash of the terrible. Faced with being alone for the first time in nearly twenty years, with not a clue what to do with a vast future she decided to explore the world of her fantasies, something she had done little of up until now.

2 responses »

  1. Mr. Militant Negro

    Reblogged this on The Militant Negro™.

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