Chapter
One
The
fire in the hearth damaged everything.
Creating a gray/brown cloud of ash and dust, a thin layer of soot
covered the entire room by the time it settled.
It would take days to clean.
Gillian began with the furniture; the upholstered pieces would have to
be professionally cleaned, but the wood seemed to shine all the more after it
was polished. It was hot work even on a
chilly mid-spring afternoon, so she stripped down to a pair of black bike
shorts that fit snuggly about her ass and thighs, leaving her slender legs bare below. Her loose
crop top barely covered her breasts, leaving the two luxuriant firm things
bouncing about inside the soft knit shirt, the nipples driving right through
the fabric. Her honey-blonde hair was a mess-piled on top of her head, loosely
tucked inside a tortoise shell clamp and out of the way. She was usually put
together with great care, but who would be watching her today? Gillian was
alone.
After the furniture, there was the
bookcase, a damnable job. She might have
thrown the whole thing out, if it had been hers, but she was living in a
borrowed apartment; borrowing peace and quiet and the plush erotically
appealing surroundings belonging to her friend, Kate McPherson. Now she was borrowing one hellish task. Of course, cleaning the place was the least
she could do, even if this disaster was half Kate's fault for not telling her
there was a problem with the fireplace.
Standing with hands on hips, rag in
hand, she took a deep breath, her chest swelling softly as she did. There was already a layer of perspiration
glowing on her tawny pink skin and a look of weariness in her hazel eyes. Her face was flushed, but sexily radiant from
the activity. Standing five-feet ten in
her bare feet, the graceful curvature of her body oozed sensual charm that was
better put to use orchestrating a mob of corporate lawyers with the ease of a
skilled maestro. Maestro or not, she had
work to get done. And with one exhausted
glare at the sooty bookcase, she dove into the mess, pulling one volume after
another from the shelves until they were in a pile at her feet. There was just one book left, and that had
been wedged tightly behind a bar at the back of the bookcase-either
accidentally shoved into place by an impatient Kate trying to force another
paperback where there were already too many, or purposely concealed from view
in its clever hiding place. With some
tugging and pulling it was finally free, and Gillian plopped down in a freshly
polished chair to take a breather.
After a long drink of water, she
found her fingers running over the textured cover of the book in her
hands. Opening it, the book's spine
cracked, and a funny shiver ran right up hers, tickling her at the base of her
neck, sending a shiver back down, this one creeping
stealthy into every nook and cranny of her body with a delicious arousal.
"It's her diary," she whispered to
no one, and from there Kate's private words began to drop off the page like
water quenching her thirst on a hot summer day. Each word incited a sexual riot
in her body, and within minutes, Gillian was tugging the bike shorts off her
hips to find the fastest way to her quickening cunt. With the black lycra in a gnarled tangle on the floor, she sat with
her legs spread wide and began to toy with her clit as she continued to
read. Between her lanky thighs was a
snatch of blonde curls, clipped neatly into a triangle, the sides and labia
below all the way to her anus cleanly shaved each day, so there was just smooth
skin from her pubis to her rear door.
Rubbing the sensitive fold at the side of her clit, a trace of her own
sexual fragrance floated to her nostrils and she breathed deeply, smelling
pleasure. For a time, she rubbed her
female juices about the expanse of hairless skin. Some juice she combed through the pubic curls
to make them glisten, and then there was a finger full she sucked from her
hand.
Reading on, with each sentence there
was an internal spasm coming from deep inside her hips and thighs and female
home. The nectar was sweet, the feel of
her fingers arousing, the touch to her clit a perfectly formed masturbation
that would end in climax. All technique
aside, however, it was what was in her mind, inspired by this pilfered book
that would make the ending exceptional.
It had been some time since she'd thought these base things.
Two fingers worked her clit, while a
third worked the hole. Finally, as her
mind took off into its own fantasy, she let the book drop to the floor and
began to work herself with both hands.
The end so close, she teased herself, letting it come and go. The fantasy took charge with some demanding
voice in the back of her head ordering her to hold on and on and on, until she
couldn't hold on another second. There
were three fingers in her hole when she came, and two others massaging her
clit. Her voice purred melodically, and
her breath was deep, and there was a shudder and grabbing as her body clenched
and then let go. For an instant, she was
gone, while her crotch moved nastily on her wet fingers and she could look down
with delirious eyes to see her deep purple clit jerk as it spasmed.
A page of Kate's diary stuck to
Gillian's fingers as she closed it, and another kind of shudder replaced the
sexual one. This diary had dangerous
implications. With all its times and places
and people's names, it could be a time bomb in the hands of a cunning man, or,
in the hands of a sexually desperate woman, a passport to her dreams.