Secret Delights (Lingerie Series)

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Secret Delights

(The Lingerie
Series)

 

 

Yvette
Hines

 

 

This is a
work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the
author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as
real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons,
living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

 

All rights
reserved. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted
work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically
or in print without written permission by the author.

 

Secret
Delights

Copyright ©
2013, Yvette Hines

Proofing
Editor: A. Jackson

 

This ebook
is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or
given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another
person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you’re reading
this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only,
then please return to eStore and purchase your own copy. Thank you for
respecting the hard work of this author.

 

 

 

Series Note:

I
hope you enjoy The Lingerie Series, a new short story edition of the “Stir
Sticks & Stilettos” series. This line of the SS&S will feature the
voluptuously, lovely, full-figured heroines of different ethnicities that are
confident, successful and not ashamed to flaunt their bodies in alluring
lingerie paired with sexy mouth-watering heroes as so many of my readers have
requested. These little nuggets of erotic shorts are meant to excite you, at
the same time, give you a little happiness at the end. Stay tuned for the next
stories to follow.

                                               

Whispered words from the right lips
can open the heart like petals of a flower in the sun and love can find a home…

 

 

“Marisa, thank you so much for the
information about the children’s reading carnival.” I stood before the library
counter, University of North Carolina. It was early, so the library was
practically deserted with the exception of a few overachievers already with
their nose in a book.

“You’re welcome, Gabrielle. Did your
little
niño
enjoy himself?” Marisa Yasmine Martinez, a pretty
Mexican-American woman who was fun and adventurous smiled at me.

We had met at an annual training all
the college employees were made to attend and, sitting next to each other for
the three-day seminar, we had become fast friends.

Leaning my hip against the counter, Gabrielle
smiled. “Jason loved it. Since he hasn’t really made any new friends so far at
school, things like that event means so much to him.”

“I’m glad I could help.” Marisa
walked to the book return and removed an armful of books and set them on the
counter. “Now that we have entertained your son, when are we going out for some
adult entertainment?”

Gabrielle shook her head. “Good
gracious, Marisa, I can’t even begin to tell you the last time I even thought
about going out.” I did remember that it hadn’t been since Michael’s death.
Almost three years now and there were days that she really missed the friend he
was to her, even more than she missed him as a husband.

“Well then, it is past time.” Marisa
opened the top book and stamped the check-in date on the card that rested in
the paper slot.

Groaning, I said, “I don’t know. I
was never any good at the club mingling thing.” I recalled the times in college
I’d gone out with my girl friends, sorority girls and cheerleaders. All the
guys had practically salivated for their attention. I found myself at the table
each time watching purses and coats the whole night. I knew those guys were
just vain and looking only at the shape of women, but it still stung. Those
experiences were a big reason why I had started hanging out more with Michael
after he’d tutored me in math. We were friends who eventually became lovers
then found ourselves at the altar two years after graduation.

My friend’s voice pulled me away
from my musing.

“Neither am I. Trust me, when you’re
a thick Latina, the men aren’t exactly dragging you on the floor to salsa.
Latin men like their women curvy,” Marisa made the hourglass silhouette with
her hands, “but not necessarily
curvy
if you get me.” She ran a hand
along her full hips.

I laughed. “I get you, my friend.”

“So, come on. Us two
mujeres
hermosas y gruesas
paint the town black and brown.”

I knew she said something about us
being beautiful woman but the rest was lost to me. “Let me think about—”

The ringing of my cell phone cut me
off. Pulling it out of my blazer pocket, I checked the caller I.D. My son’s
school name was displayed. “One sec, Marisa.” I pushed the answer tab on the
screen. “Hello?”

“Good afternoon, Ms. Strayer?”

The voice on the other end of the
phone was deep with the smoky timbre of a blues artist. It lit my core up like
the Fourth of July, rocketing explosions through my body.
Damn. I must be
desperate if I’m getting worked up over the sound of a man’s voice.

I started to fan myself and stopped
when I noticed Marisa eyeing me curiously. “Yes.”

He continued, “This is Mr. Cale
calling from Queen City Angels Elementary School.”

My heart started racing. “Is everything
all right with Jason?”

“Yes, Ms. Strayer, he is fine. I
just wondered if you had a moment to meet after school today.”

“And you are?” I wasn’t familiar
with the name Cale.

“His new teacher. You should have
been sent a memo last week.”

Smacking my palm against my forehead,
I felt like the worst mother. How could I have forgotten that Ms. Lowen went
into early labor with her twins and was projected to be away from school for
the remaining two months? “That’s right. Sorry, work has been a little crazy.”

“No explanations needed. I would
just like to touch bases, can you make it?” he asked.

“What time? I don’t get off work
until four,” I informed him.

“That’s fine. The Spring Musical is
tonight so the front doors will be open.”

“I’ll see you around four thirty.”

“See you then,” he confirmed in that
oh so sexy voice.


¿Qué pasa?
Is Jason okay?” Marisa
asked, concern etched into her features.

Slipping my cell back into my
pocket, I said, “He’s fine… I guess. There’s a new teacher and he said he
wanted to just touch bases.”

“Like a parent teacher conference?” Marisa
tilted her head to the side.

“I hope so. Jason has been through
so much already, I just hope he’s not starting to act out in school or
something. I can’t afford to send him to a therapist.” I was doing well in the
last six months since I pulled myself out of debt and got this job as the
executive secretary for the college president. I was building a nice cushion
for a house in a year or two. If my son needed help I would tighten my belt and
pay the high co-pay for him to receive specialty services, but it would be nice
if I didn’t have to.

“I understand. Look, call me later
and let me know.” Marisa reached out and laid her hand on top of mine. “I’m
sure he’s fine. He’s a strong little guy.”

I gave Marisa a smile, thanking her
for her words. “Well, let me get to work, since I’m going to have to be gone as
soon as the clock strikes four.” Waving, I left.

~YH~

By the end of the day, I was so
ready to fill my belly with something good and sink chin deep in a bath.
Thankfully, I could do just that since my brother Aaren and his fiancé, Kalan,
were taking Jason to a Charlotte Knights game. It was the season opener. Aaren
and Kalan were keeping him until Sunday afternoon.

Now all I had to do was get through
this meeting with my son’s teacher and I’d be good.

Twenty minutes later, I pulled into a
back parking space at the elementary parochial school I’d enrolled my son in
when we moved from upstate Maryland to Charlotte. The musical must be very
popular since most of the spaces were filled. I felt like a bad member of the
PTA not having supported the school and brought Jason out. Getting out of my
car, I grabbed my purse from the passenger side and headed into the school.

“Hello. Welcome to Spring Musical
night.” Lonnet Douglas, a woman with short, blood red curls and brown eyes, the
president of the PTA, greeted me at the door.

I bit the side of my lip and winced,
then said, “I’m actually not here for the event, I have a conference with Mr.
Cale.”

“Ah, you’re going to miss quite a
show. All the donations tonight will go for new designs for the school t-shirt
and a repainting of the angel mural on the school rock.” Her mouth pinched in
at the corners, but somehow Lonnet still managed to keep the cheer in her voice
like some Stepford Wife robot. “Any who, Mr. Cale is down at the end past the
first grade hall; his is the last room on the right.”

“Thanks.” I rushed away as other
parents and kids filed in behind me. I heard Lonnet’s excitement as one family
after another came for the show. Shaking my head, I thought about how much
parents paid for enrollment at the private school. They shouldn’t need any
donations. Being new to Charlotte, I had placed Jason here because the school
had the top rating in academics and they ran a fantastic after school tutorial
program to ensure all the kids excelled.

With all the changes my son had in
his young life, at times school had been a challenge for him and he’d started
falling behind.

My heels went from clicking to muted
as I moved onto the hall of classes. Unlike when I had gone to elementary
school, QCA didn’t have any colorful, artistic creations taped and clipped up
on the wall outside of the classrooms. The walls were a pale yellow with framed
photos of children learning, smiling or playing.

Finally, I arrived at the designated
room, which was two doors down from my son’s original classroom when he had Mr.
Lowen. The door was open and there were the low tones of a song playing in the
background, but what grabbed me before I knocked was the masculine voice over
the artist singing the words.

“…but ain’t no sunshine when she’s
gone.” He continued onto the next verse of the classic Bill Withers tune.

I placed a hand over my mouth to
stifle my laughter. Not because he was bad, but because it was just unexpected.
It was the same voice from the phone, but more melodic in the throes of the
song.

I got another shock when I leaned
forward slowly, a fraction at a time, to get a peek at the karaoke singer. A
white guy was sitting behind a short moon-shaped table. Not that I was narrow
minded enough to think that only African-American people could sing Rhythm and
Blues, but the taste of music didn’t seem to fit the man before me.

Sexy as hell. But, he looked as if
he should be coaching on a football field instead of cramped behind a too small
table teaching kindergarten children.

Short, thick black waves ran over
his scalp and complemented the wide angles of his face as he leaned his head
back, holding up a pencil like a microphone and belting out the lead in to the
last line.

“…I know, I know, I kno—”

I must have made a sound because he
broke off his lyrics and turned toward me. The full impact of his sea green
gaze caused my breath to stop, my core to tighten and my knees to tremble and
threaten to buckle. 

“Sorry, it’s my after school
release.” Setting the pencil down, he rose and clicked a button on his
computer, plunging the room into silence. Standing to his full height, he moved
toward the door.

Taking a quick breath, I worked to pull
myself together. This man was my son’s teacher not a stud on the street to
ogle. But, good Lord, he had to be six-two and built like a safety, lean but
wide in the shoulders.

I stepped forward and forced a smile
on my quivering lips.

“I’m Mr. Cale. You must be Mrs.
Strayer.” He held his hand out as he approached me, but I didn’t miss the once
over her gave my body.  When his gaze met mine again, there was glow of
appreciation that lit his gorgeous green eyes even more.

Slipping my hand into his made me
feel even smaller as his long, strong fingers enveloped mine. The warmth from
the contact spread up my arm and felt like a caress through my body, making me
stifle a sigh. I was five-seven, not short for a woman, but not tall either.
Raised around my brother, I was used to feeling dwarfed, but standing before
this man, I felt oddly protected. “Actually, it’s Ms. Reston-Strayer.”

He continued to hold my hand and
stare at me as if assessing my features.

I had to draw my gaze from his face
before I did something foolish. Looking down at our hands, still clasped, I
gave mine a slight tug.

“Oh, forgive me.” He released me
quickly. “Come in, please.” Waving me to one of the small chairs on the other
side of the half-moon table, he followed behind me.

Once I was seated, he claimed his
seat. Still looking awkward, he had to sit with his knees bent and his thighs
spread wide to work in the tight space.

I quickly told myself not to look
down the V of his legs. The last thing I wanted was my son’s teacher to think I
was a sex-depraved horn-dog, which was exactly how I felt with my body going
haywire around him. To keep the temptation away, I gazed around the room.
Unlike the barren, cold hallway, Mr. Cale’s classroom was lively and
wallpapered with posters, drawings, paintings and sloppy pre-school script. I
liked the man already. On a professional level, I reminded myself.

“So, about Jason.” I faced him
again.

His gaze was locked on my face and
he was frowning.

“What?” I asked, touching my face. I
didn’t think I had anything on it. I’d checked my make-up in the car before
coming in, so that couldn’t be it. “It there something wrong?”

“Forgive me, I must have been caught
up in my thoughts.” He cleared his throat and looked down at the papers on the
table and shuffled through them. “Jason. Jason.”

He repeated my son’s name a couple
times as if he’d forgotten the reason for his call to me.

“Ah, here we go.” He pulled out a
folder with JASON STRAYER written across the top. “We performed our third
quarter benchmark testing this week.” Setting the paper down so that it was
facing me, Mr. Cale continued, “As you can see, Jason's numbers started off
kind of low in the fall at the beginning of the school year.” He moved his
pencil tip along the various test scores. “This is the average for the state as
well as our school in scoring, which I assume Mrs. Lowen showed you at that
time.”

“Yes, she did. Jason was enrolled in
the after school mind-boosting program. And he improved,” I declared. I was
finally starting to breathe easier. My job was going great, we had our place
and things were looking up. I thought Jason was starting to adjust.

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