Two Short Stories and Three Very Short Stories

Two More Short Stories

plus

Three Very Short Ones

by

Madeleine Oh

Copyright © 2014 by Madeleine Oh

All Rights Reserved.

This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed herein are fictitious and are not based on any real persons living or dead.

Table of Contents

A Word to my Readers

At Long Last

Nightlife

Getting Dressed

Leather Love

Waiting and Aching

Power Exchange Excerpt

Here is the final set of Naughty Stories. I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I did writing them. The first set all had a paranormal theme of sorts, the second set was kinky and fetish and this one is a mixed bag. I have a revenge story, followed by a vampire one (yes, that could have gone in the first set but I’d forgotten about it and so here it is). It’s also historical and I seldom write historical-set stories, but in this case I felt the story fit the era. Then come three very short shorts that turned out to be preludes for
Power Exchange
. To round it off, I have included an excerpt for
Power Exchange
. Enjoy!

—Madeleine Oh

This first one is the revenge story, written in first person. I tend to use first person for Lesbian and Gay stories as it helps avoid what I call the “pronoun problem”. For example: “She kissed her breast.” or “He stroked his cock.” Where it’s difficult to be sure who is doing what to whom or is it self-service? First person helps sort this out. As for why revenge? Well, most of my stories really do come straight from my fevered imagination but this one sprang for a germ of reality. Years back I heard on the friendship gossip grapevine about the brother of a girl I’d gone to school with. Indulging in a midlife crisis he walked out on a pregnant wife (who’d not gone to school with me but we’d been in the Girl Guides together and I’d always liked her), leaving her to deal with a family business, his aging mother and a handicapped child. Pretty crappy if you think about it. I hoped that one day he’d get his comeuppance and since fiction enables one to provide where life sometimes doesn’t, here it is. I cuckolded the rotten bastard in the very best way I could come up with. I could have made him impotent as well, but that thought just occurred to me. So here it is, with all names, relationships and geographic locations changed to protect the guilty.

©2014 Madeleine Oh

This was it.

As the train slowed, I snapped my novel shut, and pulled my suitcase from between the seats. In a few minutes we’d be face-to-face after thirty years. Was it curiosity or obsession that had me haring up to Aberdeen to see the man who’d shattered my twenty-two-year-old heart, when he married my cousin, Penelope?

Why was I here? To see how the years had treated Alec? Did I hope he sported a massive beer gut? Sagging jowls? Perhaps recovering from a triple by-pass and double hip replacements? Sitting in a wheel chair pushed around by his brand new trophy wife?

If he looked the same as he had at twenty-five, I would rail against the injustice in the world. He didn’t. But he wasn’t the one who recognized me.

“Jasmine Waters! May I call you, Jasmine?”

It was Emily, wife number two. One of my faithful readers. “Of course you may. It’s my name.”

“But is seems so… You being so famous and…”

“You must call me Jasmine. Alec does.” She all but blushed. How deliciously English and young she was, like a fat ripe plum, ready to drop off the branch into my hand.

“He calls you, Jazzikins.”

He would. He had. Couldn’t call me Jazz or Jasmine the way everyone else did. He had to make up a special name that still had the power to tweak my soul. Standing beside her, was my old heartache himself. “Hi, Alec.”

A man who left his wife with an autistic teenager and a senile mother-in-law had no right to thrive on it. But heaven help us all, he was still gorgeous. His dark hair was halfway gray, but it looked good on him. And as for this laughter lines, where had they come from? From smiling to himself as he walked away from his responsibilities?

“Jazzikins!” His smile was so sincere I wanted to spit. “Fantastic to see you!”

I held out my hand before he had a chance to even think about hugging me. “Alec. It’s good to see you.” That wasn’t a lie. I was satisfying my curiosity and, to be truthful, he was as easy on the eyes as ever. He still had a smile to invoke impure thoughts in a virgin’s mind. It had in mine. He’d just never delivered.

“Jazzikins.” I restrained a wince. “After all these years.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me into a hug before I could evade, planting a great smacky kiss on my left cheek. While I took a deep, cleansing breath, he stepped back, looking me up and down as if contemplating a purchase. “I still can’t believe it! You’re here, and all because of Emmsy. Who’d have thought it?”

Thought what? That I could write? That his wife could read? That he was incapable of using anyone’s full name? I made a point of not snarling. “How could I not come? Invited to Scotland by a loyal and ardent reader?” He’d better not think I’d spent all day in a train for him. But he did.

“Alec.” Emily put a hand on his shoulder. Marking her territory, perhaps? “Let’s head for the car. I bet Jasmine wants to kick off her shoes and have a drink.”

I decided I might like her, even if she had supplanted my cousin, and hoped her idea of a “drink” entailed something more than a cup of tea. I couldn’t help wondering what Alec had told her about me. Was I his ex-wife’s cousin, the sister of a school friend, an old, lost love? Most likely, none of the above. Maybe he never remembered breaking my heart.

His dark green Jaguar was an improvement on the Deux Chevaux he’d owned the last time I’d ridden with him. His transport might have changed but his laugh hadn’t, neither had his voice, or the way he drove too fast, and slid through lights as they changed. He made a very Alec crack and Emily laughed, throwing her head back a little, shaking her long, chestnut-colored hair and showing the vulnerable expanse of the long, pale neck. I’d always longed for a long neck. Still, I had bigger boobs but she had Alec.

Did I honestly care now? Come to that, had I ever really been in the running? I’d fallen for him like a felled oak. And got over him, or so I always told myself. I wasn’t the type to do unrequited love. But I’d hurt. Standing as bridesmaid at Penelope’s wedding was an agony I hoped never to repeat. Now was payback time. Alec owed for breaking my virgin heart, leaving a gaping hole in my cousin’s life, and for the handicapped son he’d abandoned. Penelope wouldn’t seek revenge. She was far too kind and up to her eyes with providing care. Simon missed his father desperately, Alec’s mother was too senile to realize he’d gone and poor Penelope was aging daily.

But I was here, and willing, and as we settled in living room, overlooking the garden, I prepared to settle the score. One way or another.

Trouble was, I liked Emily. I could hardly fault her for falling for Alec, I’d done the same when I hadn’t been that much younger than she was. And she was a fan. She had every one of my books, in hardback, and all but kissed my hands when I gave her an advanced copy of the new one. Hard to hate a woman who admires your work and mixes a mean G and T.

By halfway through dinner, I seriously though about smushing Alec’s face into his tiramisu as he pontificated about local politics, the virtues of his new car, and the tremendous responsibilities of his job. How many more “Jazzikins” and “Emmsies” and “old things” was I prepared to endure? It was the last that got to me the worst. He had two years on me and I didn’t have gray hair. Thanks, science.

Emily was far more tolerant than I. That’s what love does to you. But I caught the occasional spark of irritation, and the glances of female complicity she shot my way.

I grinned back as her dark, gray eyes flashed amusement and when she hugged me for helping load the dishwasher, I squeezed back. Her body was warm and soft and her breasts pressed nicely against mine. She was my height, her body firmer and her breasts higher but we fit together, the old and new loves of Alec Carpenter.

“How’s the coffee coming along, girls?” he called from the sitting room. Emily looked ready to give him hot coffee where it hurt.

It was an odd after-dinner conversation. Emily wanted to talk about my books. I was more than happy to oblige. Alec didn’t exactly sneer at mysteries but he came darn close. Then he committed the cardinal sin “How much do you make on a book?”

“Tell me what you earned last year, and I’ll tell you what I made.”

He declined the invitation with an irritating laugh. “Oh. Jazzikins! You’ve changed.”

In more ways than he could guess.

I broke up the evening by pleading weariness. Emily kissed me good night with a promise of tea in the morning. Her lips were warm and ripe and young. Hugging her was a joy. I looked forward to my early morning cuppa.

She brought it wearing a short pink robe with satin rosebuds scattered over the yoke. It suited her, bringing out highlights in her dark hair. She blushed deliciously when I told her so. Alec had seldom told me that I looked beautiful either. She sat on the edge of my bed and I watched her firm nipples ride underneath the thin cotton. I’d found my revenge. I just had to find the means.

Alec handed it to me at breakfast.

Emily was annoyed.

I was thrilled.

“Why this weekend? Didn’t you tell them you had a visitor?” Emily gave him the closest thing to a pout I’d seen yet.

“Never mind.” Time to smooth some amicable oil over the marital waters. “If Alec has a crisis at work, he needs to go.”

Emily muttered disagreement.

“I knew Jazzikins would understand.” I got Alec’s best smile and heartfelt regrets. He did both really well. “I feel terrible mucking up your weekend when you’ve come so far.”

“You haven’t mucked it up. Emily and I will frolic together in the fleshpots of Aberdeen.” Emily’s face brightened. Alec glowered. No other word for it. I gave him my sweet smile. “She’ll look after me, I’m certain.” He looked worried. He should. “You go take care of your crisis. Don’t bother about us.” I sure wasn’t going to bother about him and, if I had my way, neither would Emily.

He streaked off in his Jaguar. Emily and I set out in her little Fiesta. Size was of no importance.

“Take me on the tourist tour?” I asked. “Show me the sights, and all the bookshops. We can stop somewhere for lunch and somewhere for tea and somewhere for a drink, and if we really feel like it, another somewhere for dinner.”

She giggled like a schoolgirl let out of boarding school. We visited the book stores, and had coffee in a dark-paneled cafe where we sat close in a corner and she confided in me that Alec worked terribly long hours. His new wife felt neglected. She took me to the rose garden and the maze. We got nicely lost, and held hands muddling our way out.

She drove to the beach. “It’s almost deserted,” I said looking at the great crescent of golden sand. “No one’s swimming.”

“Too damn cold. This is the North Sea.”

It wouldn’t stop me. “I’ve got to put a toe in after coming this far.”

I left my shoes in the car and ran across the beach. Emily hesitated a few seconds, before following me. The tide was out. I zig-zagged over the hard sand, glancing over my shoulder. Emily followed, cutting off corners, trying to catch up. I let her, just as we neared the water.

“Chicken?” I teased as I jumped in. Emily hadn’t been kidding. An icy wash hit my ankles. She stared. I took a step deeper and held up my skirt.

“Never!” She followed me, and gasped. “This is ridiculous!”

I wouldn’t argue. We ran along the water’s edge, keeping to the firm sand. My toes were tingling with cold as I out-ran Emily again. The girl was no marathoner, that was for sure, so I slowed to take her hand, as I made a beeline for the car.

By time we got there, my feet were numb and turning red, and my calves stung from salt water and North Sea wind. Emily was shivering. “Alec will never believe we did that!” Her right eye watered from the cold, but she grinned.

“Why need he know? Do you tell him everything?”

She shook her head. Slowly. “Not everything.”

Smart girl.

We wiped our feet on Alec’s cricketing sweater. The closely knitted wool warmed our skin as it absorbed the damp and the sand. The sweater was unwearable by the time we were finished. Emily shook her head at it. “He’ll throw a wobbly when he sees that.”

“Let’s save him the worry, then.” I took the sand-and-salt-encrusted heap and tossed it toward the beach, the wind caught it momentarily, whipping it higher before it fell, wet and heavy, on the sand.

Emily watched it arc up and fall. I wasn’t too sure of the look on her face. Regret? Shock? Worry? Until she smiled. “I doubt he’ll miss it until next summer.” She shrugged. A wry smile twisted her mouth. She took my hand and squeezed.

I pulled her to me. Slowly. Giving her time to draw back, I wrapped my arms around her and dropped a soft kiss on her forehead. “I’ll never tell,” I said. She kissed back, a soft whisper of skin on my chilled lips. The warmth of her breath was lost in the wind but the heat of her body wasn’t. We stood, arms entwined, warming each other against the wind. It wasn’t enough. Emily shivered. “We need to get out of the cold,” I said. “Where’s the nearest place for a drink?”

The all-but-deserted bar of a vast Victorian hotel.

Dark Lincrusta covered the walls and the rings of generations of damp glasses marred the oak tables. Emily ran her fingers up and down her glass. I raised my drink and savored the best single malt whisky the bald-headed bartender had to offer. Watching Emily over the rim of my glass, I drank. The old codger’s best was pretty good. I took another taste, holding the whiskey in my mouth and working it over my tongue before swallowing.