Paranormal Erotic Romance Box Set (30 page)

“It’s so red, Sophia,” James said. “Your fucking ass is so
red and my cock is so fucking hard.”

“Fuck me, then.”

James shoved his knee between my legs and pushed my legs
apart. He pressed the head of his cock into me and grabbed my hair again,
pulling my neck back as he pushed into my pussy to the base of his cock.

“Fuck,” he said.

He thrust in and out of me until my legs could barely hold
my weight and the table held the top half of my body as James dug his
fingertips into my hips.

“Don’t stop,” I said. “I’m close!”

James’ balls slapped against my pussy as he hammered me
from behind. I got dizzy as the room spun when I came.

“Yes,” he said as the muscles in my pussy gripped his cock
tight.

James picked my body up off the table and he rocked back
and forth on the balls of his feet. He emptied everything of himself into me
and panted in my ear as he held me tight.

After a moment, he lowered the top half of my body back on
the table and bit the back of my neck as he slowly pulled out of me. I crawled
up onto the table and rested on my side as I took deep breaths. He stood beside
the table staring at me and smiled as he wiped the sweat off my forehead.

“You should be very proud, Sophia,” James said. “
Cosmopolitan
says that many women are unable to have orgasms just from the fucking alone.”

“Don’t you mean that you should be very proud?”

“Well, yes, I suppose you’re right,” he said and winked.
“Very kind of you to acknowledge that. Thank you.”

“Oh, no problem. Anyway, just don’t use that as an excuse
not to attend to me in more creative, orgasmic ways other than cramming your
cock into me at the drop of a hat. I believe
Cosmopolitan
also describes
foreplay as the gate to a girl’s Valhalla.”

“Duly noted,” James said and pulled up his pants.

I slid off the table and grabbed my dress and organized
the papers and pens into neat piles back on the conference table. I opened the
glass curio box and pulled out an old cloth covered book that sat on top and
ran my fingers over the title.

“The
Malleus Maleficarum
?”

“Oh, that’s a good one,” James said and looked over my
shoulder. “Witchcraft...very spooky.”

“It’s in Latin,” I said as I flipped through the heavy
parchment pages.

“There’s a Latin dictionary on one of the shelves,” James
said and walked to the secret door in the library wall.

“And that’s it?” I said and sat down at the table.

“Well, yeah,” he said and opened the pocket door. “What
else?”

“Nothing,” I said and sighed as I flipped through the
book.

“Okay, I’ll see you later,” James said and left.

I poured myself a big mug of coffee and flipped through
the book which seemed to blame the whole of the Inquisition on women and their
wily ways.

“If I were that cunning,” I said as I pulled all of the
books out of the curio box, “I wouldn’t need to read these books.”

I stared at the books for hours and the most I learned was
that the men who colonized the land were some pretty fucked up guys.

“Knock, knock, anyone home?” a squeaky voice said from the
main entrance of the library.

I looked up as Anthony Porcco, the guy who died as a
result of the baked potato mishap of 1948, walked into the library.

“Hey, Sophia,” he said as he stood beside the conference
room table and peered at the books.

“Anthony, hey,” I said.

Anthony Porcco was a wreck of stereotypes.

During your first glance at the chubby, shy guy, you knew
he was always picked last for the team. He always dressed himself in sweaters
that rode up his torso and challenged everyone who stood in front of him with
the almost impossible task of not staring at his big belly. And that day he
stood in front of me, it was especially hard not to stare at him as he wore a
brightly striped sweater that made him look like a roll of Life Savers. Besides
the fact that he looked like he shopped in the children’s section of the
department store, you always knew where Anthony was because you could hear the
swoosh his corduroys made as his thighs rubbed together when he walked.

“What are you doing?” he said as he ran his fingers across
the table.

“Research, I believe,” I said. “I’m looking for clues.”

“I like research,” he said and pushed his boxy glasses up
his nose. “Want some help?”

“I don’t think you’re allowed to tell me anything,
Anthony. I think I’m supposed to figure it out on my own.”

“It’s okay, Sophia,” he said as he heaved himself into the
chair opposite me, “I don’t know anything.”

“Ah, as clueless as me, huh?” I said and pushed the books
away.

“Cluelesser,” he said and smiled. “That’s not a word. I
made it up.”

“Yes,” I said and giggled.

“People around here think I’m smart. I don’t know why
though. Must be the glasses,” he said and tapped on the black plastic frames.
“Mother always said if scientists sawed off the top of my skull, they’d win
some kind of prize for discovering the first man whose skull was filled to the
top with rocks.”

“She said that?”

“Yep,” he said and frowned. “All the time.”

“Oh, I don’t think that’s true, Anthony. I’m sure there
are lots of things you know. People around here don’t treat you as if you’re
dumb.”

“No, no they don’t. They treat me real nice,” he said. “I
don’t think you know this about me but, before, I didn’t have any friends at
all. Not one. Now I have many.”

“Yes, you do,” I said and reached across the table and
patted his chubby hand.

“I bet you had a lot of friends before...you know.”

“No, not really,” I said. “My best friend Katt was really
the only person who would have taught me about life had I been smart enough to
listen.”

Anthony looked up at me and nodded as if he understood the
wasting of a life.

“I only had my mother, but she wasn’t very fond of me. I
knew that all my life, even from the time I was very small,” he said and chewed
on his fingernail. “You know, she abused me.”

“That’s awful, Anthony.”

“Nothing to be done about it now, though,” he said.
“Didn’t you have parents to teach you things?”

“Yeah, but they taught me all the wrong things.”

“Like what?” he said. “Or maybe you don’t want to share?”

“Nah, I’ll to share with you.” I said and sat back in my
chair. “My parents taught me how to look down my nose at people, to be cruelly
judgmental.”

“I think it’s interesting how much the way people look and
the way people are can be very different,” he said and crossed his arms over
his chest and rested them on his belly.

“You got it. My mother didn’t like me unless she approved
of me.”

“Did you try to think of everything you could do so she’d
be happy with you?”

“Yes, exactly that,” I said and smiled. “When I loved a
dress or a food or even a person, if Mother told me she hated it, I would then
hate it too.”

“You had no loyalty,” Anthony said and tugged at his
sweater as he tried to stretch it over his belly.

“None, whatsoever,” I said. “If I knew Mother loved the
idea of something, even if I knew it was bad for me, I forged ahead and did it
hoping to make her proud.”

“I did that too,” Anthony said and pulled himself closer
toward the table.

“See, we’re a lot alike,” I said and smiled.

“Man, I would have never in a billion years guessed,” he
said and whistled. “So you were a real phony baloney, huh?”

“Completely,” I said and chuckled. “The irony was that I
was also extremely sensitive. When my mother bullied me, it broke my heart. And
yet, I still had cruel thoughts about others.”

“Well, Dr. Newlander says that people who have been abused
often become abusive.”

“Oh, I wasn’t abused.”

“Yes, you were,” Anthony said, as if his was the last word
on the subject.

We sat across from one another in silence for a moment and
it came to me that Anthony Porcco may be more intuitive than any other person I
knew.

“So, do you want to play Secrets? I mean, if you have
time?” he said.

“What’s Secrets?”

“Golly, Sophia,” he said and shook his head, “you’ve never
played Secrets? It’s simple, really. You tell me a secret, something that no
one knows and then I tell you one of mine.”

“Well,” I said and took a deep breath, “I don’t think I
have any.”

“But you must,” he said. “Everyone has secrets. Tell me
how you were cruel.”

“Okay...um, I was a pretty horrid person.”

“Nah, I don’t believe it,” Anthony said and laughed. “I
don’t believe that at all.”

“Well, it’s true,” I said.

Anthony shifted side to side in his chair as he squeezed
his hand into the front pocket of his corduroys. He pulled bits of tissue and
some change and scraps of this and that and put it all on the table. And
finally, he reached his prize--a handful of lint-covered, hard candies.

“Butterscotch?” he said and brushed a piece of candy off.

“No thanks,” I said.

“Okay, go on,” Anthony said and popped a dusty candy into
his mouth. “What did you do?”

“I was a bully just like her,” I said and picked at the
corner of the Latin dictionary. “Really just in my head, but I was pretty
awful.”

“Like how?” Anthony said and sucked on the butterscotch.

“I really don’t like thinking about it,” I said.

“Go ahead. I promise I won’t tell.”

“Okay. I’d look at the pictures of some of the girls I
modeled with and I thought awful things about them. How one was too fat to be a
model and another was too ugly...worse stuff, even. But it was really all
jealousy because no matter how mean I was, they were all very successful and seemed
wildly happy. Two things I was certainly not.”

“What else?”

“Isn’t it your turn now?”

“I have a juicy secret to tell,” Anthony said. “Something
I did that was pretty terrible. Your secret is about as controversial as shoe
polish.”

“Ouch...shoe polish? Okay Anthony,” I said. “I looked at
people on the street and made fun of them in my head. Homeless people,
minorities, unfortunate looking children, for fuck’s sake. I had no sense of
justice and even less of a sense of empathy. Yet, I always had to appear
perfect.”

“You were a real c-word, huh?” Anthony said and smiled.

“Yes, Anthony,” I said and smiled, “I was a real cunt. I
cry for those people now. It comes out of the blue too. I’ll be walking along
and all of a sudden something triggers a memory of my cruelty, a certain sound
or a smell, and in a flash, I’m right back in that place. And when I’m brought
back, it feels as if Jake LaMotta just drew back and slugged me right in the
stomach.”

“I know just what you mean,” Anthony said and looked at me
with wide eyes as if he never knew there were others like him.

“Anthony, do you want something really juicy?” I said.

“Heck yeah,” Anthony said and slammed his hands on the
table.

“I don’t know if you can handle it,” I said.

“Hit me with it, sister!”

“One day, I walked with my mother near Faneuil Hall. It
was a very cold day and I was wearing an obscene long sable coat that I hated.
There was a homeless man sitting on the sidewalk, leaning against a street lamp
on the corner of Congress and North. He wore rags. As my mother and I
approached the corner, I glanced down at the man and he stared back at me so
intensely that even though I tried, I could not look away.”

“Like he had magnets in his eyeballs?” Anthony said.

“Exactly. Anyway, as our eyes locked, I saw everything
that this man used to be before he became what he was. We stood there staring
at each other for at least five minutes. My mother hollered in my ear and tried
to pinch the fat of my arm to pull me away. And then, I took off my coat, this
thing that I absolutely hated and didn’t give a shit about, knowing it would
have made a tremendous difference to this man.”

“He could have covered himself with it or even sold it,”
Anthony said.

“That was my thought,” I said. “But when I took my coat
off, my mother really blew her stack. She started screaming about pneumonia and
how I was going to catch scurvy from being so close to the filthy animal. And I
looked at her and laughed because I’m pretty sure she meant scabies not
scurvy.”

“Yeah, I don’t think Vitamin C deficiency is contagious,”
Anthony said and giggled.

“Because I was laughing hysterically, she thought this man
was trying to steal my soul or something because then she started yelling for
the police officers patrolling the street close to us.

“The man then reached toward me and smiled the most
genuine smile anyone ever gave me and I smiled back. It was as if we fell in
love with each other, not sexually, but genuinely.

“I began to pass the man my coat and a cop ran between us,
pushed me aside and wacked the man in the head with his nightstick.”

“The cop knocked the man out?”

“For a bit he was,” I said. “He fell over like a fucking
stone hitting the bottom. As the cop who hit the man tried to make him stand,
my mother said, ‘Sophia, tell the officers how this animal tried to steal your
coat!’ I just shook my head. So she got right in my face and said through
clenched teeth, ‘People are staring, goddamn you!’

“I looked around and a huge crowd gathered. And then I did
what I always did, I lied to make my mother love me and I told the cops that
the man tried to steal my coat.”

“And they arrested him?” Anthony said.

“Yep,” I said and looked down at my reflection in the
table.

There was nothing but silence between Anthony and I for
the longest time as he pushed his pennies around the table and arranged them in
a straight row.

“Well,” Anthony said, “if you wanted to see a bright side,
maybe it would make you feel better to think that at least he was off the
street, that he was being fed and kept warm.”