Merriment in the Museum - Book One in the Rock My Socks Off Trilogy (2 page)

Chapter Two

‘N
ICE
,’
SAID
N
ORMANDIE, BOUNCING
her ass on the edge of a love seat as if it were her personal ‘fuck-me’ bed. ‘Did this place come with the rocking horse assignment?’

‘It came with my old college roommate, Harlan. Who is in Europe for the entire length of my stay in San Francisco, unfortunately.’ He handed her a glass of Harlan’s Pinot Noir and sat down next to her. ‘Or fortunately.’

‘Great kitchen … great view … what else does your roommate come with?’

He looked her over. ‘I’m more interested in what you come with.’

‘Me? I usually come with an assortment of screams and giggles.’

‘Excellent. Of course, anyone can
say
that.’

‘Are you challenging me, Jacob?’ She sipped her wine but appeared to have little interest in it.

‘I’m not sure, but I think what I’m doing is propositioning you.’

‘Too late. I propositioned you way back at 3475 Haight Street.’ She stuck her tongue out. ‘Or weren’t you paying attention?’

‘I do seem to recall something along those lines, now that you mention it,’ he said with affected vagueness. ‘This is indeed a quandary, our having both propositioned each other. How do we sort it out?’

‘Dunno.’ She put her arms around his neck and kissed him. ‘We may have to fuck twice, just to keep it fair.’

‘How about eating your pussy?’

‘Yeah, how about it?’

‘I mean … does that count as one of the fucks?’

‘Good question. Does your old roommate have a copy of
Robert’s Rules of Order
?’

Jacob eyed the bookcase. ‘All I see is
Joy of Cooking
.’

‘Well then,’ said Normandie, ‘let’s get cooking.’

Judging from the dampness of her panties, things were already cooking in there. And when Jacob pulled her toward him, one hand on her ass and the other stroking her gusset, he felt her pelvis gyrate and her thighs clench. The hot breath in his ear articulated an almost inaudible ‘Eat me, Jacob’. He stroked her clinging fabric again, more forcefully this time, and the breath in his ear gained volume while losing definition. ‘Oourghmm,’ it said sexily, the amorphous syllables dripping with feminine lust. His cock tingled.

Her fingers were soon on the snaps of his trousers. Avoiding the fly slit in his briefs, she pulled his cock up and out of them. She tugged the elastic down just enough for his balls to rest on top, his package displayed for her over the border. She left him like that, preciously exposed, when she slithered backward onto the love seat to receive his tongue between her creamy legs.

She tasted like an exotic liqueur, and her essence dribbled daintily around his face as he teased and tickled her intimate receptors. When she pushed his head into her cavity with a gentle determination, he was engulfed by the heartbeat of her thighs and the fragrant, liquid gift of her ecstasy. His ears, cuddled by her flesh, might have been insensible to her vocal passion, had she not been shrieking so loudly with pleasure.

Shortly after it finished singing its wild screams, her mouth became the warmest, wettest thing he could remember ever touching him down there. He came almost instantly, a melting Popsicle.

‘I never told you why I’m in San Francisco.’

‘Tell me why you’re in San Francisco,’ Jacob suggested.

‘I’m doing research at Hauser University. Actually, you probably could have guessed this, from the fact that I, for example, am an astronomer, and Hauser University, for example, has a big observatory. Got me an associate professorship there, though it won’t last. Loves me some seminars. Rock on.’ Normandie, after plenty of wine, plenty of oral sex, and only five hours of sleep, was trying out Harlan’s treadmill on a setting so high it fatigued Jacob just to know it existed.

‘Are you sure you’re old enough to have a job?’ he teased.

‘Thirty-one next April, gramps.’

He adored her for being funny first thing in the morning. How could she be his contemporary, thirty-four-year-old Jacob wondered, and yet be so full of an almost juvenile vitality? Already he knew that if he saw more of Normandie, he would be hopelessly taken with her. And he intended to prove that.

He sipped coffee and admired the focussed, dynamic energy of her perspiration-radiant body. She was working out in a minimalist get-up of bra and panties – panties that Jacob knew were fragrant from last night – and he watched the special sweat mark develop on her crotch.

When she relaxed and stepped off the treadmill, he was ready for her, and it was the work of a moment to slip her panties down and begin the job of kissing from the small of her back on to and all over her glistening ass. Finding a vigour he didn’t know he had, he actually carried her to the bedroom, with her panties halfway down her legs. She was kissing his ear as they travelled.

He was now glad that they hadn’t, per se, fucked before falling asleep last night, sated with cunnilingus and fellatio. It felt more meaningful to be depositing her on the bed for a sweaty morning shag, with coffee rather than wine in their veins, with sunlight rolling in through the generous windows in Harlan’s condo, saying
this is the morning after, this is daylight, this is reality
.

The wetness in her crotch was more than just perspiration. Jacob slid into her easily, and they fucked with all the passion and hunger that they’d saved from last night. Normandie, setting the rhythm and the pace, rocked and writhed as if she couldn’t get enough fast enough, and Jacob almost had trouble keeping up with her. She jammed her own fingers between them to make sure her hot spot was in the loop, and the slippery, ticklish sensations soon overwhelmed them both. They exploded together in a reckless, sweaty lushness that left them incapable of anything but a shower.

A shower and a piss. Normandie spread her legs naturally and unabashedly on the seat, avoiding both a posture of modesty and one of display. She chattered casually about her plans for the day, and her eyes met Jacob’s with post-coital warmth. Though limpness for the moment prevailed, his cock hardened just a little as he watched the water hiss out of her.

‘You know, I didn’t come to San Francisco to fall in love,’ Jacob confessed between mouthfuls of multigrain sandwich.

‘I remember, Prince Charming. You came here to get laid. And, unless it was all a vivid and wonderful dream, I believe that goal has been attained.’

He winced. ‘Yeah, well, I think I got a bonus. A big bonus.’

Normandie toyed with the crumbled blue cheese on her salad.

‘What do you think of that?’ Jacob was asking.

‘Needs more dressing,’ said Normandie.

He laughed indulgently. ‘OK, we don’t have to talk about this. It’s only my heart, after all.’

‘No,’ she said seriously. ‘It’s not only
your
heart.’

He watched her eat. He noticed how sensuous her lips looked as she flirted with each lettuce leaf before finally committing to it.

‘Am I nuts to want to fuck you while you eat salad?’ he asked.

‘Don’t ask me. Ask the proprietor. People might be waiting for the booth.’

Jacob got up, snatched the bill off the table, and headed for the cash register. He turned to look at Normandie, hoping to catch sight of her expression without her knowing. She was smiling, and her right hand nestled prettily, napkin in hand, at the centre of her denim crotch.

During the walk home, she spoke only once.

‘There’s something different about the way you arouse me. It’s like different hormones are engaged, compared to what I’m used to. It’s interesting.’

It was
interesting,
Jacob repeated in his mind.

He was tracing soft circles along her flank when she confessed herself preoccupied.

‘At least now I know there’s something better than tenure,’ she sighed.

‘No offence, Dee, but from where I stand – er,
lie
– that’s quite a non sequitur.’

‘I’m sure that’s true. But it’s only because you can’t read my mind.’

‘I’ll try to do something about that. Meanwhile … what’s all this about tenure?’

She sighed again. ‘I’m probably not going to get tenure, that’s all. The budget is tight and the university wants the department to downsize, and even though Kate adores me, she can’t …’

‘Who’s Kate? You don’t need to explain why she adores you – who wouldn’t adore you? – but just tell me who she is, so I can follow on my scorecard.’

‘My good friend Professor Katherine G. Passky is the brilliant, sexy, silver-haired chair of our department. I sort of idolise her.’

‘She sounds like you in twenty or thirty years.’

Normandie kissed him. It was about eighty per cent sexual and twenty per cent tender, and it made Jacob feel as if he’d taken a slug of scotch.

‘Twenty-two years. I think she’s fifty-three. Anyway, she’s written astrophysics books that would make your head swim.’

‘Trust me,’ said Jacob, holding up a cautionary hand. ‘Even the
title
of an astrophysics book would make my head swim.’

She smiled. ‘I keep forgetting you’re a layman.’

‘So soon?’ He began caressing the smooth globes of her behind, by way of refreshing her memory.

‘Mmm. This is why I said there was something better than tenure. Where was I?’

‘Kate.’

‘Yes. Kate thinks I’m a genius. Granted, I am … but it’s so hard to find people who properly acknowledge that.’

Jacob got into a rhythm, kneading her flesh. ‘Is there anything that can be done to put you over the top?’

‘Just keep doing what you’re doing for a while, darling.’

‘I mean, to get the university to give you a permanent position.’

‘At this point, I think they’d have to be convinced that I was doing not only important work but spectacular work.’

‘But I don’t understand. If your Kate thinks you’re such hot stuff, why can’t she help?’

‘She can’t pay me a salary with nonexistent money. Even a really good knowledge of quantum physics doesn’t enable
that
.’ Normandie suddenly inhaled sharply with surprise and pleasure. ‘Ooh, do that again.’

Chapter Three

A
LMOST EVERYONE
J
ACOB HAD
ever known fell into one of two categories: people who knew exactly what they wanted and were too busy pursuing it to stop and chat; and people who didn’t know what they wanted and were happy to talk all night. From the latter population, Jacob had consistently drawn his friends and his lovers.

But Normandie was a strange, wonderful hybrid of the two types. She knew what she wanted – and she wanted a lot. She wanted vast galaxies of knowledge. She wanted acclaim. She wanted the respect of her peers. She wanted a bigger telescope, and a building to put it in.

And she seemed, judging from the past week and a half, to want Jacob. But she didn’t seem to want him in the calculating way she wanted these other things. She seemed to want Jacob because something delicate inside her responded to him. Her manner seemed to say that although she couldn’t have predicted his existence, he made her smile. And that even though she was very, very busy and very, very focussed, she could always make time to laugh, and play, and perhaps love.

He had never met anyone like her. That had been obvious at once. But the amazing thing, to him, was that she claimed she’d never met anyone like him, either.

‘You’re not a little boy who’s trying to compete with me, and you’re not a big boy who’s trying to own me, and you’re not a selfish boy who wants me just to shut up and fuck.’

‘Thank you,’ said Jacob.

‘You – you just
are
. Do you realise how special that makes you? How easy to be with? How nice to wake up next to?’

He didn’t really know if he was special, but it certainly made him feel special to hear her say it.

She was hugging him tightly in her strength-training-strengthened grip. She was almost tearful. ‘You make me feel that no matter what happens to all my distant stars, there’s something solid and organic in my life.’

Jacob stroked her along the length of her back, laughing. ‘I’m like a bag of granola.’

‘Thanks for showin’ up, dude,’ said Brandon. ‘Gary totally wanted me to get your input on the photographer.’ He produced a crisp white envelope of sample photos.

Jacob quickly wiped away the excess beer on their table, trying not to take offence at the vulgar implication that he, a professional writer, might have considered not ‘showin’ up’ for an appointed meeting with a representative of his publisher. Why Gary, his editor back in New York, had chosen this particular individual to represent him in San Francisco remained a mystery.

‘These are the three people Gary likes,’ Brandon explained. ‘They’re all here in SF and available.’

Jacob squinted at the photos in the dim pub lighting, pretending that he gave a damn who was going to take pictures of rocking horses for
Hip Hip Horizon
.

He could tell at a glance that all the photographers were competent, more than capable of doing justice to the appalling subject.

‘Excellent,’ he said noncommittally. ‘Which candidate does Gary favour?’

‘He’s sort of jonesin’ for this one,’ said Brandon, touching the part of the picture you’re not supposed to touch with his beer-moistened forefinger. ‘Susan Weedon.’

‘Oh, good,’ said Jacob, handing back the materials. ‘She’s my first choice, too.’

The lights went down a notch further – though Jacob wouldn’t have thought it possible – and a throb of house music replaced the pop that had been playing. A fluorescent light revealed a DJ rising from his cocoon in a booth in the far corner, and a few figures began to float out onto what passed for a small dance floor.

Their business was concluded, but Jacob hadn’t finished his beer. He was comfortable where he was, and he knew that Normandie might not be done in the lab until almost midnight.

‘So, Brandon,’ he said with forced affability, ‘what are you studying?’

‘Y’know, like, communications,’ Brandon replied absently. The young man’s attention was clearly wandering as the dance floor began to heat up. Now Jacob understood why Brandon had suggested they meet at this particular pub at the hour of 10 p.m. This was evidently where he had planned on spending the next chunk of his evening.

‘Very nice,’ Jacob said drily. ‘Look, I’m going to nurse this beer a while, but you don’t have to babysit me. If you’re eager to get out there and –’

He didn’t even have time to finish the thought before Brandon had hopped up and joined a group of lithe young women.

Jacob could see Brandon through their eyes – an easy-mannered, nimble young guy in hip clothes, as strikingly handsome as he was, to Jacob, strikingly vacant. But Jacob was much more interested in seeing the women – through Brandon’s eyes, his own eyes, or any eyes that happened to be available. They were lovely, indeed, and the knowledge that he probably had little in common with them and that mutual boredom would ensue from any direct interaction did not prevent him from enjoying the sight of ice-cream-scoop bottoms, tickle-me midriffs, and fluffy mops of hair, all bringing sparkles of feminine life to the otherwise drab environment.

He sat there contentedly for forty-five minutes, allowing the beer to mellow him and the women to arouse him. Then he headed for his borrowed apartment, fairly confident that Normandie would eventually invite herself over and finish what the dancers had started.

Sure enough, an hour and a half later, he was sprawled naked on the bed.

‘Relax,’ said Normandie, from the level of his crotch. She kissed the underside of his balls. ‘I want to kiss and lick every bit of you … show you how much I appreciate who you are, and what you are.’

‘That tickles beautifully.’

‘
Tickles
is only the beginning, my friend. On the scale of pleasure I’m planning on giving you,
tickles
is, like, a one.’

He reclined his head again and closed his eyes.

He heard the lewd
pop
of the massage oil being opened. He heard its drunken, reverse guzzling as it globbed into Normandie’s hand, and he smelled an appetising, oily cocktail of raspberry and banana.

‘Oh!’ The first cool stroke of her moistened fingers around his groin surprised him.

It dawned on him that she was the first woman with whom he felt comfortable being really passive in bed. A dynamo like Normandie was just what it took to make him want to be deliciously inactive sometimes, to glide into a zone where she could spoon dollops of pleasure onto his body and he had no responsibility but to wallow in it.

It used to be that he didn’t like having his ass touched beyond a basic functional grip during fucking. But now she was reaching under and caressing his cheeks, pinching them, titillating between them. It felt good, and he told her so. He could never remember feeling so relaxed and aroused at the same time.

He hadn’t ever trusted a woman in this way. Not that he’d been afraid they would hurt him; but he had always felt compelled to keep his sexual steering wheel in his own hands. With Normandie, he was happy to be taken, to be driven, to let her try things on him, to raise his erection to monumental proportions in whatever way she chose.

‘You can play with my ass anytime you want,’ he said.

‘Thank you. We’ll make a note of that.’

With his mind and body at rest, he continued to let her cover him in slickness, caressing him at every turn, stimulating invisible muscles and awakening latent erogenous zones. Never before had he felt so many sensory points being discovered and nurtured – along his ribcage, under his arms, along the inner lengths of his thighs … He felt that he could lie here and absorb pleasure forever – except for the little matter of his flouncing cock, which she had lubed early on and returned to stroke every so often. It was now craving her full attention, and she took notice of this.

She kissed it. ‘Be with you in a moment, baby,’ she said sweetly – to Jacob’s prick, not Jacob senior.

She reared up on her knees and, quickly but erotically, began to cover her own body in lube, as if it were indoor suntan lotion.

‘Would you like me to do that for you?’ he asked.

‘Not this time. You just lie there.’

Her face rang the changes on tactile delight and sexual excitement as she sensuously finger-painted herself. Her body was sinuous and tense beneath the pressure of her own hands.

She saved her inner thighs for last, and as she moved her hands closer and closer to her pouting pussy, Jacob could not only see but smell how aroused she was.

Then she let herself fall forward, clambering back on top of him and manoeuvring her ass until she had her cunt satisfactorily skewered. She ran her slippery hands all over his slippery body, while her slippery rump bounced against his slippery legs and her slippery love channel clutched at and pumped around his slippery dick. The entire experience was almost frictionless, save for the tight interplay of cock and pussy, and the effect was like that of fucking weightless in space. When Normandie bounced herself into climax and milked Jacob’s own orgasm into her screaming body, he felt as if he would never return to earth.

‘Now that was my idea of a good time,’ she told him calmly afterward.