
FOR RESEARCH PURPOSES ONLY
An Ellora's Cave Publication, July 2004
Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.
PO Box 787
Hudson, OH 44236-0787
ISBN MS Reader (LIT) ISBN # 1-84360-961-4
Other available formats (no ISBNs are assigned):
Adobe (PDF), Rocketbook (RB), Mobipocket (PRC) & HTML
FOR RESEARCH PURPOSES ONLY © 2004 SAHARA KELLY
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part without permission.
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. They are productions of the authors' imagination and used fictitiously.
Edited by Briana St. James.
Cover art by Scott Carpenter.
All Night Videos:
For Research Purposes Only
Sahara Kelly
"C'mon Big John...sign me!"
The blonde purred as she rubbed herself up against "Big John" and flashed him a generous expanse of flesh, most of which was threatening to spill out of her lacy bra.
Jack Foster sighed, pasted on his best public relations smile, and scribbled his name across her breasts.
"My name's Bambi," she added.
Of course. What else? Anyone with tits that size, more makeup than Bozo the clown, and about three feet of carefully teased and curled blonde hair just had to be called Bambi.
Jack sighed again and politely thanked her for coming. He'd been thanking people for the last hour or so, more or less sincerely, and he was tired. Weary to his fucking bones.
Of course it was nice to have people complimenting his work. His name on a tripleX video practically guaranteed its success. He was a top-ranked director in the field of porn, had just about every "name" star in the business at his beck and call, and more money than he knew what to do with.
But the deep, dark and dirty secret that lurked within him was clamoring to escape. He was fed up with it all.
He wanted out.
"Coffee?" Elbowing the blonde out of the way, Lou Franconi offered a steaming cup to Jack, who took it gratefully.
"Thanks, man. I owe you." Jack sipped and let the hot stuff burn down his throat. Perhaps the jolt of one hundred percent pure caffeine would perk him up. And God knew Lou could make coffee.
Glancing over, Jack found himself wondering about the guy. Good-looking enough to feature in one of Jack's videos, Lou seemed quite at home mingling with the oddball crowd in the store. And yet there was an edge to him, which was at odds with his job as manager of "All Night Video".
Jack shrugged it off. He'd met far too many people tonight. Too many "Bambis" and "Deedees" and assorted plastic women who'd ogled him, stared at his crotch and thrust their implants into his face.
Well hell. He was in the business, and he should expect it by now. And he did expect it. Perhaps it was the "expecting it" thing that was sticking in his craw.
A short interval of breathing space opened up around him as the wave of fans departed for the well-stocked shelves. His videos were, of course, prominently featured---his agent had seen to that.
Jack ran his hands through his hair wearily and wondered what the fuck he was doing with his life. Then he snorted. This was a fine time to experience an attack of existential confusion.
Jack Foster, aka "Big John Johnson", was at the top of his field. After making a couple of porn flicks in college as a lark, Jack had become fascinated with the genre. His major was in television production, so it was a natural career move to become involved behind the cameras.
Although not one his alma mater cared to publicize, even while quietly welcoming his regular donations to their video and theater department. Having an endowment funded by a major player in the porn industry didn't go over like gangbusters at the Homecoming game.
Maybe that had something to do with his current feelings of disenchantment. He was a "name" recognizable to devotees of lust. His skills in production and videography were appreciated by those whose interests lay in the areas of all things sexual.
He could probably claim responsibility for more sperm production than Pamela Anderson before her breast-reduction surgery.
Yeah, he should be proud that his movies were part of jerk-off heaven. And in some ways, he was.
Vice and Vixens had introduced a stop-motion camera technique that was now being routinely copied by every other porn film company. His lighting angles were carefully calculated, even when filming outdoors, and he personally monitored his soundtrack to make sure that the quality met his standards.
He even insisted on a plot. And as good a one as his writers could possibly manage. After they'd laughed their asses off, they began to take him at his word, and one or two of his movies had actually crossed over from the strictly porn side of the aisle to the "adult" section of a few video rental stores.
All of which had brought him to this slightly down-at-heel all-night video store, complete with just about every porn film ever made, along with an assortment of the "trappings of the trade". One of which, a remarkably lifelike woman's torso---complete with pussy hair---was staring at him from the opposite wall.
Suddenly, Jack felt grubby. Like he hadn't showered in a week. The sight of those pseudo-folded fleshy parts bordered with a ruffle of pubic hair lodged itself in his mind and stewed.
Was this all he did? Contribute to the moral decay of a generation of horny college kids? Was anyone out there really appreciating the work he put into his films? Or were they just gluing themselves to the sight of tits and cunts and the massive cocks that plundered them? And jerking off at the same time?
He sighed. There were probably a million guys who'd have willingly parted with their left nut to be in his shoes. He didn't want their nuts, but damn...they could have his shoes. They were starting to pinch too damn much.
A burst of laughter from the checkout line drew his attention away from his own problems. The crowd had thinned considerably, and it seemed Lou was cracking a few one-liners to keep the diehards amused.
Jack breathed in, relieved to be able to catch his breath and think as himself, Jack Foster, for a few minutes and leave Big John behind.
And at that moment the door opened.
\*
Daphne Littlewood transferred her binder from her right arm to her left and wiped her sweaty hand down her pants for the third time. She'd been standing outside this video store for nearly fifteen minutes, trying to muster up enough courage to step inside.
After all, it wasn't every day a librarian got to pay a visit to a shop that was little better than a department store for sex. It had seemed like a good idea from the quiet sanctuary of her office in the hallowed halls of the library, but now...
Sure, her thesis required this research. She couldn't very well prepare a thorough treatment of her topic without it. And the topic was one that was dear to her heart. The title might be long-winded, but the subject was fascinating. The Sexual Revolution and the Media. How the Media Has Contributed to the Changing Attitudes Towards Human Sexuality.
She'd read the books, not too challenging since she was a librarian, and could easily check out everything she needed without raising too many eyebrows. She'd covered Masters and Johnson in a week, devoured the Hite Report, read everything there was on the changing pattern of sexual fantasies, and delved into a limited amount of erotica.
She'd struggled with The Pearl, laughed through back issues of a hundred-odd women's magazines, and tried her best to be impressed with Anais Nin.
One conclusion had stayed with her throughout her work. The times...they were certainly a'changing.
Literature had gone from the coldly clinical or naughtily suggestive to the blunt, informative instruction manuals that regularly topped the nonfiction bestseller lists. Everyone nowadays was apparently in open search of the perfect orgasm, the most extraordinary sexual experience, or the eye-rolling blend of both.
Everyone except Daphne.
Nobody had made her eyes roll. They'd watered a couple of times, but never rolled. She had admitted to herself that her fascination with the human condition and in particular sex, probably stemmed from the fact that she wasn't getting any. And what she did get wasn't very good.
Well, darn it. Nobody could be good at everything. And she did crochet one very impressive throw blanket.
Sadly, crocheting was a lousy substitute for hot and sweaty activities between the sheets.
So Daphne had sunk herself into her studies, determined to complete her Master's thesis, even if it took her a couple of years. Adult extension courses were available at the local college, and she'd found a charming thesis advisor who'd shared her interest for the topic. However, Dr. Jane Martinson was over seventy, a Professor Emeritus of Psychology, and her interests were purely scholarly. Although she did have the occasional twinkle in her eye when Daphne expounded about some of the things she'd read.
It had been Jane who'd suggested that Daphne should add a look at the current video offerings to her thesis. "After all, Daphne, it's an enormous industry. It fills a need, caters to various tastes, and anyone with a VCR or DVD player can watch it. Given the current technology, one can even slip a DVD into one's laptop these days, can't one?"
Daphne had thought about that. She didn't have a laptop. And she'd never realized the potential. She did have a VCR, but kept it unplugged most of the time, because that annoying blinking timer irritated her to the edge of insanity. The last movie she'd rented had been something with Hugh Grant. A romance. A very nice romance.
She wished she were home watching it right now, instead of standing outside this adult video store. She wished she could get up the nerve to go in. She wished there weren't so many darn people inside.
She closed her eyes for a second, hoping that some guardian angel somewhere would hear her wishes.
No go.
Although within a few moments some of the customers pushed noisily out of the door, laughing with each other, and clutching brown bags with God-knew-what in them.
Daphne read the large hand-printed sign again. "Cum and Meet Big John". She frowned. Of course she understood the appalling pun. But her English grammar gene was telling her that it should have been the other way around. "Meet Big John and Cum" would have sounded so much better.
She sighed. At least whoever had scrawled the words on the glass of the storefront had been able to write backwards and spell. She supposed that was about all she could hope for.
It was getting dark, a bit chilly for September, and Daphne took a breath. Now or never.
She stumbled over the curb, dropped two papers, picked them up and swore at herself for her stupidity. Shoving the notes back in her folder, she pushed her glasses up securely onto the bridge of her nose. She could do this.
She would do this.
She was a scholar, not a pervert, and this was all about scholarly research. It would be simple. Go inside, note down a few titles, take a quick peek at the merchandise, and then get out as fast as possible. Try to garner some impressions of what was being sold by looking at the graphic displays. Do not use a camera. Do not speak to anybody. Do not, under any circumstances, make eye contact with anybody.
Avoid anything with the word "lesbian" in the title, and bypass the stands featuring farmyard activities. There were some places she preferred not to go. Or even think about.
Simple straight sex. That's all she wanted information about. Of course, sex wasn't simple, but that was the general idea. Just get a feel for what was currently being presented to the general public under the heading of "pornography", and then do some research to contrast it with what had been available a generation ago.
Piece of cake.
Daphne squared her shoulders and pushed the door. It pushed back. She bit her lip as she read the word "Pull".
Darn, darn, darn.
She pulled on the stupid thing and stepped inside.
Jack Foster blinked.
A head was peeking around the door like a fawn looking into the depths of hell. Wide brown eyes were partially concealed behind square horn-rimmed glasses, white teeth were biting down nervously on a full lower lip, and the rest of her was bundled into some kind of shaggy-brown knitted coat thing.
Her brunette hair was pulled into an untidy knot and threatening to slide over one ear, and she had a bundle of papers in her arm that she was clutching on to so tightly her knuckles were white.
He couldn't help it. He grinned. As out of place as a nun at a whore's convention, this poor woman was obviously in the wrong store. And she looked---funny.
He walked over to her. "Can I help you?"
She shifted some kind of canvas bag on her shoulder and stared at the floor. "No thank you."
"You look a little lost. Are you sure this is where you're supposed to be?"
She looked up at that, meeting his eyes for the first time. "Oh yes. Quite."
Something in her expression caught Jack's attention. A flicker of something that might have been interest or a healthy dose of fear. He wasn't sure what, and he was intrigued.
At least she wasn't thrusting her breasts at him and demanding he sign her underwear. And that observation included the assumption that she actually had underwear-clad breasts under her wrappings---something Jack wasn't at all sure about.
After all the 36DD's he'd been flashed this evening, she was a delightful surprise.
"You must be the manager or something, right?"
Her voice was sweet and a little breathless, and for some odd reason he wanted to make her a cup of tea. Or tug on one of those flyaway strands of hair that surrounded her face. Take her to a baseball game, maybe.
Jack mentally shook himself. What the fuck was he thinking?
"Um, yeah. Something..." He avoided answering her question directly, preferring to let her draw her own conclusions. It was refreshing to finally meet someone who hadn't a clue who he was.
"Well, good. Then perhaps you can help me." She straightened her shoulders a little. Well whaddya know. Yes, there were breasts under those clothes. And for the first time, Jack noticed they weren't bag lady clothes either.
They wouldn't have made the cover of Vogue magazine, but they weren't shoddy. Her khaki pants were wrinkled, as if she'd been sitting in them all day, but they might well have been linen, and underneath her muddy brown jacket was a cream turtleneck that looked like silk.
Whoever this woman was, she knew quality fabrics. She just needed someone to add a little color to her wardrobe. He realized she was looking at him as her words hung in the air between them. He'd been busy redressing her into reds and golds, and she'd said something. Fucking A. This was soooo not like him.
He gathered his wayward thoughts. "How can I be of service?"
It was a question that would have gotten him about fifty different off-color answers in his studio. But not from her. The only off-color material she knew about was the stuff she'd pulled from her closet that morning.
"Well..." She pulled a wrinkled piece of paper from her folder. "I need to make a list of some of the top selling...um...adult video titles." She pushed her glasses up on her nose. "Maybe a dozen or so. And..."
She hesitated and blushed, charming Jack down to his loafers. He hadn't seen a woman blush in years.
"And?"
"And I need to see how they're presented."
"Presented? I'm sorry...I don't quite understand." Jack tilted his head and smiled at her.
A burst of laughter drew their attention, and Jack cursed beneath his breath. He wasn't about to let this opportunity go to waste. A chance to chat with someone who was completely ignorant of his identity. A woman with no axe to grind, no screen-test to push on him, and apparently no interest in what he had tucked into his briefs.
For some reason, that last thought intrigued him just as much as why she was here in the first place.
He touched her arm gently and nodded at the coffeepot, which lurked quietly on one side of the store. "Look, why don't we grab a cup and you can tell me what you need to know? How does that sound?"
"Oh very nice. Thank you. That's very thoughtful of you."
She smiled, and for a second or two Jack Foster's customary aplomb deserted him. Her brown eyes lit up, her mouth curved into a generous bow, and a dimple peeped at him from one cheek.
A strange kind of pinging sensation rattled behind his ribs, and his breath caught.
He ignored it. Too much damn coffee.
\*
Good heavens. He was---in a word---scrumptious.
A simple white shirt, unbuttoned just enough to show a tantalizing glimpse of chest, topped beautifully cut jeans. Designer, no doubt.
Daphne tried very hard not to look at his butt as she followed him across the store to the table where a coffeepot was set up.
She failed.
His backside was as attractive as his front side, and for the first time in ages a small lick of heat made her body twitch. This would never do.
"How do you like it?"
It's a very nice butt indeed. "Pardon?"
"Your coffee. How do you like it?"
"Oh. Sorry. Plenty of creamer please. No sugar."
He poured things and stirred things, and Daphne wrenched her concentration back to where it should be---on her research. Accepting the Styrofoam cup, she sipped and winced. "Oof. This is...strong."
He grinned. "Got to have something to keep us awake around here."
She relaxed a little as the warm liquid soothed her nerves, and glanced around. "You mean all this stuff doesn't?"
The bright fluorescent lights clearly revealed the neat racks of videos and DVDs, and the enormous amount of mammary tissue that seemed essential for the successful merchandising of their contents.
"After a while you don't pay much attention."
Daphne heard his words, but having just noticed a particularly lurid cover in the stand next to her, found them hard to believe.
"I'm Jack Foster, by the way." He held out his hand.
"Daphne Littlewood." She juggled her coffee and her papers and dropped several sheets in an attempt to reciprocate.
He picked up the papers, took her binder from her arms, set everything down carefully on the table and took her hand. "It's nice to meet you, Daphne."
She swallowed. He was holding her hand. Warm and strong, his fingers encased hers, and for a moment she let herself wonder if they'd feel as nice elsewhere on her body.
Good grief. It must be the environment. Surrounded by such blatant sexuality, she was already having dreadfully lascivious thoughts. She had to accomplish her mission and get out of this place, before she did something quite dreadful. Like drool.
Of course, he did have a rather nice smile. And he was quite the most gorgeous man she'd seen in years. She'd always had rather a thing for green eyes, and this...Jack...had a pair on him that could probably melt her panties.
She realized she was hanging on to his hand for dear life, and dropped it quickly, looking away to hide the color she knew was flooding her cheeks.
"So tell me, Daphne. If you'll forgive the trite question...what's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?"
He leaned one hip casually against the table and sipped his own coffee, looking interested. Huh. He'd probably lose that look and be gone in a flash once she told him what she was doing.
Oh well. It had been a nice moment while it lasted. "I'm here for research."
He tilted his head inquiringly.
"For my master's thesis."
"Really?"
"Yes, really. It probably sounds ridiculous, but there is some information here that could be useful to my research topic. Some additional facts and figures---overall impressions---all of which my thesis advisor and I think would...would..." She searched for the right words. "...would add an additional dimension to the entire paper." She glanced around again. "And not, I might add, a 40-double-D."
He laughed, a rich sound that seemed to surprise him as much as it did her. "What's your topic?"
Good lord. He was actually asking her about her thesis. Wonder of wonders. He was probably just being polite. "Um...well, it's about the media and sexuality."
"The media and sexuality, huh? That's pretty wide-ranging?"
Daphne swallowed more coffee. "Yes, it is. So I narrowed it down a bit...I'm focusing more on the literature and publicly available material in the last couple of generations or so. How what our parents could see twenty or thirty years ago compares to what we have available today. What sorts of things women's magazines discussed back then versus what they discuss today. How self-help manuals have changed. What the bookstores carry on their front shelves as opposed to what used to be buried in the 'adults-only' sections. You know the sort of thing..."
She paused. Damn, she was rambling. Any minute now he'd lift that lovely butt off the table and disappear on her.
"That's fascinating."
She blinked. "Really?"
"Yes. Taking an in-depth look at how sexuality is portrayed today and contrasting it with how it was portrayed to our parents...well, hell. It's a great perspective on social development, isn't it?"
"It is?"
"Absolutely." He shifted his hip, but made no move to leave.
Daphne was astonished. Especially when he didn't laugh, didn't make any inappropriate comments, and genuinely seemed interested enough to grasp what she was saying.
"Your research is in one particular area, granted, but it reflects much of how far society has come, the changes we've undergone, and---in some ways---how far we have yet to go."
"Well, yes...I suppose so." Do not let my jaw hit the floor.
"There've been so many huge social impacts over that time period too." He gazed thoughtfully around the store. "The pill, of course. AIDS. An assortment of obscenity rulings from the Supreme Court. Women's Lib."
She nodded. "All of which have contributed in their own way to changing how we view sexuality."
"Ah, but have they?" His green eyes turned back to her and nailed her to the spot. Darn. He is---gorgeous.
"Have they really changed how we view sex?" One eyebrow rose a little in query. "For example, how do you view sex?"
From underneath you, please.
Jack could have bitten his tongue off as soon as the question was out. Fuck. He didn't want to scare her away with double entendres or off-color comments.
But she didn't seem scared. Just thoughtful.
Her brown eyes blinked at him and she carefully removed her glasses. "Well, that's really neither here nor there, is it?"
It was Jack's turn to blink. Without her glasses, she was quite lovely. In a dainty, unenhanced kind of way. Natural, Jack, natural. That's the word he was looking for. No cosmetics of any kind plastered over her creamy skin, no massive amounts of mascara weighing down her eyelids, and no out-of-proportion implants swelling the silk shirt. Her own breasts seemed to be doing that job quite nicely.
He jerked his thoughts back up to her face. "How do you mean?" What did you say? I was staring at your shirt and wondering what your nipples look like.
"My thoughts on sex are irrelevant to this project. It's focused on society in general. How an 'everywoman' or 'everyman', if you will, views sex. And what they have available to view."
"Hmm." Jack considered this. "I'm not sure about the accuracy of that statement."
One eyebrow rose challengingly at him. "Really? I fail to see---"
"Daphne, you're writing this thesis. Just think about that for a moment. You can't possibly write clinically about it. You're a human being writing about a very human subject. Your own views are bound to color your words. I don't see how it can be otherwise."
"But this isn't going to be anything...condemnatory. I'm not criticizing or judging here, Jack. I'm merely reporting. What I see and what I learn."
"And you're going to present conclusions, yes?"
She frowned at him. "Well, of course. That's the whole point."
"That's my whole point. You are going to draw those conclusions. You'll be defending them during your oral presentation. You'll be questioned on them, grilled on them if I remember correctly, and they'd better be valid."
Her eyes narrowed a little as she stared at him. "You've been through this."
Jack shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. "Um...yeah. Years ago though."
"You have a degree?"
The amazement in her voice irritated him for some reason. He never mentioned his education. His crew, busy filming assorted people fucking in assorted ways, couldn't give a damn what his qualifications were, just that they got paid.
"Yes, I have a degree. For what it's worth. But this doesn't apply to our conversation. We're talking about you and sex."
She blushed. "Actually, we're not. We're talking about sex in general. I don't factor into this particular equation. Not at all. Except as a bystander."
Jack looked at her. Saw the color in her cheeks and watched her eyes as they dropped from his in embarrassment. And felt a pang of lust shoot from his balls to his throat like a hot knife.
He wanted her. He wanted to factor into her "equation". And a couple of other places while he was at it.
And he couldn't for the life of him figure out why. She was so far removed from the women he'd dated that it was laughable. She wasn't glamorous, or even well-dressed. She was bright, pretty much unaware of him as a man at all, awkward with a discussion of sex---which was his damn life, for God's sake---and she was throwing him for some kind of a loop that made him dizzy.
He wasn't about to lose her until he'd had a chance to figure this odd shit out.
His mind began to work furiously. "How about we take a look around to start with? Perhaps I can answer any questions you may have."
"Are you sure it's not an imposition? I mean, you must be busy..."
"Not at all. It would be my pleasure." And yours too, I hope.
"Well, that would be delightful. Thank you." She carefully tucked a paper napkin into her cup, soaking up the coffee dregs, and dumped it into a nearby trashcan. "Shall we?"
Oh yeah, baby. We shall.
\*
Daphne swallowed down her nervousness as Jack casually took her arm and strolled with her over to a rack containing a large number of DVDs. The sign on top said "Best Sellers".
"We might as well start with the most popular ones, yes?" Jack was coolness personified. He might have been discussing Shakespeare's plays, or the latest baseball scores.
But he wasn't.
They were standing in front of the most lurid display of female flesh Daphne had ever seen. Luscious nymphets of every size, color and dimension were displayed prominently on each shelf, breasts thrusting out proudly, and other portions of their anatomy displayed according to the needs of the film.
Cute Cunnie-Bunnies showed a buxom blonde attempting what looked to Daphne like some kind of cheerleader maneuver. And she was doing it over the heads of two men who were, apparently, performing a visual cervical examination without the rubber gloves and the speculum.
She gulped.
"Do you need to take notes?" Jack's voice sounded uncomfortably close to her ear and she jumped.
"Uh...uh...yes. Yes, I do. Thanks for reminding me." She lifted her hand to her pinned-up hair and reached for the pen that she always tucked inside, grabbing on to the first hard thing that met her fingers.
"You write with a hairpin?" He sounded amused.
"Darn." Flustered, she rummaged in her bag and produced her errant pen. "I usually stick a pen into my hair during the day...it keeps it handy, and pens walk off my desk with amazing frequency..."
Shut up. You're rambling.
"I know what you mean." Jack grinned at her, and said no more, simply leading her to another rack of those god-awful DVDs. "Now here is a selection of titles that has a less specific appeal..."
"Less specific?" She tilted her head and looked at him. It was a pleasure. His green eyes were alight, his lips curved in a smile, and holy heck! He was sending little chills of pleasure down her spine.
Cut it out, silly. He's not going to be interested in the likes of you.
"Less targeted. These would be rented by, let's say, a couple...looking for some general erotica to spice up their sex life perhaps. Those..." He nodded at another rack. "Those are targeted at specific audiences. Male. Some for younger males, some for older males. Then we have ones targeted for the special interest groups...gays...lesbians---"
"Yes, yes...well, I don't need that. I'm not looking to get that specific here." Daphne interrupted him before she died of embarrassment.
"But you do need to know that this particular field is treated much the same as any entertainment product. Markets are analyzed, audience demographics studied...it may not be showing at your local Cineplex five times a day, but the fundamentals of publicity and marketing are similar."
"But I thought..." Daphne paused.
"Thought what?"
"How can these companies afford to do that? I mean we're not talking major studios here. This isn't some Hollywood production with stages, expensive sound equipment and so on. I thought most of these were kind of shoot-it-in-your-room and then edit the heck out of it on your computer type things."
Jack raised his chin. "Certainly not."
Good lord. He looked offended. "I certainly didn't mean to imply that these were garbage, Jack. Don't get me wrong. I know you run this store, and it wasn't a criticism of any kind..."
Shoot. She'd blown it. She knew she'd blow it and she had.
He relaxed slightly. "Daphne, have you ever seen one of these?"
She snorted. "Good God no."
He raised an eyebrow at her. "Really?"
She stared back at him steadily. "Really."
"And yet you are going to include this entire field in your thesis? I bet you read plenty of research material in the literary field, yes?"
"Well...yes..."
"Let me guess. Anais Nin?" He tapped a finger on his chin. "Probably some Henry Miller? Edwardian or Victoria erotica?"
Impressed in spite of herself, Daphne nodded. "Don't forget endless back issues of women's magazines too."
"Well there you are."
She looked at him. "Where?"
He reached past her to the rack of DVDs and pulled one down, handing it to her. She took it like it was on fire, carefully, and with her fingertips.
"You've done a thorough research job on the printed word. Don't you think it appropriate to be as thorough with this facet of your work?"
Daphne sensed a challenge beneath his tone as she looked at the title. Love Lights.
A woman was stretched full-length on silky blue sheets across the cover. A man stood in the shadows looking at her. It was erotic, sensual and not quite as explicit as some of the others---until she realized the woman's hand was resting on top of...her...there.
Ohmigod.
She swallowed. "You expect me to watch this?"
"Why not?"
"But it's...it's..." She looked at him standing so close to her, all green eyes and gentle smile, and her body shivered at his expression. "It's porn."
He tipped his head. "Actually, that one isn't, if you follow the strict guidelines set down by the local codes. There is full frontal nudity, of course, but no penetration is actually shown."
"No?"
"No. And it has a pretty decent plot line, based on a story written by a well-known romance writer. She did the screenplay too."
"Really?"
"Yes. The actors have done a couple of mainstream things, so they're not your grunt-and-come dummies. The settings are pretty exotic..." He gestured to the package in her hand. "You really should rent it. Watch it. Get a feel for what's going on."
"A feel?"
"Yep. A sort of 'Beginner's Guide to Porn' experience." He steered her to the next DVD rack. "For example, here we've got a bunch of country lasses."
Daphne looked at the covers and blushed. She really doubted that the hardworking members of the dairy industry actually dressed like that.
"So you see the covers, offering the titles, star information, ratings, and so on. But what can you actually tell about the movie itself?"
She tried to focus on the cover and wrench her awareness away from Jack. "Um...well...it was cold in the barn that day?"
He laughed. "Exactly. You can't tell a damn thing from the presentation, can you?"
She shook her head.
"So? Easy conclusion here, sweetheart. You have to watch one. At least one."
He called me sweetheart. Her mind skipped back into sixth-grade mode. Perhaps he likes me.
She blinked and gathered the shreds of her self-possession around her like a cloak. But she wasn't cold. Hah. Anything but. "I do understand your argument. But I'm afraid it's not possible. I don't have a DVD player. Just the old-fashioned VCR."
"Not a problem. There are players for rent here."
"Oh no---I couldn't. Really I couldn't. All those wires and fiddly bits?" Daphne grimaced. "I'm afraid it would need to come with a 'Beginner's Guide to Electronic Component Setup' to do me any good."
A slow smile spread across Jack's delectable lips. "It would be my pleasure to help you out, Daphne."
Her body moaned. Silently, quietly, it moaned. Take him up on his offer, and ask if he'd mind you licking him from head to foot while he made the right connections. Visions of some of the connections she'd like him to make darted across her consciousness.
No. No. Bad mind. Bad.
"I...uh..."
Jack straightened. "Look, I'm about done here for tonight. I'd love to help you out here, honey. For research purposes only, of course. I've been a grad student. I know something about the pressures of getting it right, and looking back on it I could have used a helping hand."
He extended his arm towards her. His palm looked warm and inviting and would have felt just perfect on her breast.
Daphne's nipples hardened beneath her turtleneck, and she bit down on something that would have been a groan if she'd let it out.
"But...I don't know you..." Every instinct screamed at her to not let a stranger into her apartment. Absolutely not. No matter how much she wanted to, or the hundred and one things she'd like to do when she got him there. Most of which involved him naked.
He tilted his head. "You're right. You don't. I can assure you I'm not an axe murderer, or a serial killer." He chuckled. "I'm not married and I've never been married. Hell, I'm not even dating anyone at the moment."
"You're not?" She blinked.
"Nope. Got tired of the whole thing. The bars, the parties...the endless stream of...well...you know."
"Er...yes." Her dating experiences recently had been limited to the one associate professor she'd met at a faculty tea. Not quite the same thing at all.
"So what do you say? I don't know you either...but something tells me you're not an axe murderer, and I'm willing to take a gamble. How about you?" He waited.
She looked at his hand. It was strong, the nails clean and short. The hand of a man who took care of himself, and possibly others.
She looked back into his eyes. They were still smiling at her. They were...honest.
"No! No!" screamed her common sense.
"Okay." Daphne took his hand.
Jack's heart rate accelerated to dangerous speeds as Daphne put her hand in his. Fucking hell. What was that all about?
Where was the Mr. Smooth who'd seduced a bevy of women with just a raised eyebrow and never ever gotten a shock like this? He tightened his fingers around hers and led her to the counter, stumbling a little over his own damned feet.
Mr. Smooth had obviously gone on vacation, and left Mr. Stupid Idiot in his place.
Lou glanced down from his position behind the raised counter. "All done, Jack?"
"Yep. Gonna call it a night. Ms. Littlewood here wants to rent a player along with this DVD. What've we got?"
The man frowned a little. "Damn, Jack. With all the folks in here tonight, we're out. We only had two working and they've both gone. To be honest, they weren't in really good shape anyway. But our regulars were in early...grabbed them up. I'm sorry."
Jack cursed luridly beneath his breath as he heard Daphne sigh behind him.
"Look, Jack, it's no big deal, really... I can just find one that's on video or something..." She sounded as disappointed as he felt.
Shit. He wanted her to see that one. Love Lights. It was his, one of his best, and he was proud of it. And he wanted to see it again with Daphne beside him. But of course she didn't know that.
"We'll figure something out," he said. I'll figure something out. Or rupture my brain trying.
"Ring it up, Lou. We'll find a solution."
Passing his card over the counter, Jack ignored Daphne's muttered protests. "Thanks. Have a good one."
Lou's eyes twinkled. "You too, Jack."
Damn. That man saw too much.
Jack couldn't wait to get Daphne out of the video store and into the fresh air. He wanted to breathe. To not be nervous some bimbo would come up and call him "Big John" in front of this delightful woman. And spoil...what?
The pleasure of just being with someone he found attractive and who had no clue who he was? Perhaps that was what it was all about. Just the sheer novelty of the situation.
It wouldn't have anything to do with her cute way of pushing her glasses up on her nose, or the charmingly rumpled appearance that made him want to rumple her some more. Nah. Couldn't be any of that.
No matter what it was, he heaved a great sigh of relief as the glass doors swung shut behind them and they were finally outside. And pretty much alone in the darkness.
Daphne cleared her throat. "Okay. Thanks to you I have a DVD of a movie I've never heard of, and no way to watch it." She grinned wryly. "What now, Mr. Wizard?"
"Hmm." Jack's mind worked furiously. He knew exactly what he wanted. All he had to do was get Daphne to agree to it. How to get a "nice" girl to come up to his place and see his...well, the word "etchings" certainly didn't apply.
Daphne shivered as a cold breeze wafted down the silent street.
Without thinking much about it, Jack slipped his arm around her shoulders and turned her towards the small parking lot. "You're cold. Look. I have a suggestion. And you have every right to shoot me down in flames. I probably would if I were you."
Daphne blinked at him. "Really?"
"Really."
She smiled. "You have the oddest way of putting things..."
"I do?" He shrugged. "Well here's the thing. My apartment isn't too far from here. I have a pretty nice DVD system set up. I'd be very happy to let you use it. For research purposes only, of course."
Daphne paused. "Oh."
Jack ignored the little hesitancy in her step, and urged her on. "I know. A strange man invites you to his apartment. You've known him for all of an hour. Every instinct you have is screaming at you to run a mile in the other direction, right?"
She smothered a giggle. "Right."
"And you can probably hear your mother's voice very loudly saying 'Daphne, never go home with strangers'."
"Right again. Although my mother...well, she was a child of the sixties. They thought differently. She gave me the basics, but..."
They stopped in front of Jack's car, and Daphne's jaw dropped. "This is your car?"
No. It wasn't his car. It was his baby. His precious. His symbol of all that he'd achieved. An extension of his penis, if psychologists were to be believed, but what the fuck did they know? They obviously didn't drive Corvettes.
"It's a...a Corvette."
"I know." He couldn't help it. He smirked.
She turned accusing eyes on him. "You must do very nicely indeed at that video store."
He hesitated. "Daphne, I..." But the words caught in his throat. He couldn't do it. Couldn't tell her who he really was. He had a nasty feeling he'd destroy that little something that was growing between them. He couldn't stand to see her expression change from amazement to distaste or worse...greed. "I have a good financial advisor. I don't waste my money."
That, in the strictest sense, was true. He wanted for nothing, but kept his wants within bounds. Except for Big Red. She was his major extravagance, and he'd have slashed everything else to the bone to keep her fed, tuned and garaged.
"Well, I'm impressed. And I don't even like cars very much." She trailed a hand over the shining hood.
"You see? I'm a worthwhile person, honest. I promise to behave myself..." Liar. "I'm simply extending the hand of hospitality here. Ex-grad student to grad student."
She snorted. "Yes. Quite. Like ex-grad students drive red Corvettes."
"We do if we're smart. If we put our education to good use. It's that piece of paper, Daphne. That little certificate that says we're qualified in our fields. And that's what I'd like to help you with. If you'll let me?"
She bit her lip. "Gee, Jack...I don't know..."
Every instinct was shouting at him to just throw her into the low-slung sports car and drive her off into the night. But he knew it had to be her choice. "What can I say? I'm basically an okay guy? I like dogs? I help old ladies across the street? I have no wants or warrants out for my arrest? Um...you want my mother's phone number?"
Daphne laughed. "Call me ten kinds of fool, but for some unknown reason, I believe you, Jack. I must be mad, but...I believe you."
She opened the car door and jumped as the alarm shrieked at her.
Quickly, Jack killed it. "Shit. Sorry."
Hand to her breasts, she gaped at him. "Well, heck. That convinced me. If you care enough to secure your car like that, you're probably a secure-minded guy, Jack Foster. If you'd be kind enough to let me use your DVD equipment, then thanks. I appreciate it." She glanced up at him. "You won't mind if I call a friend and tell her where I am, will you?"
He grinned. "Not at all. A very wise idea." He helped her into the car. "There's a phone right there..." He pointed at a small unit neatly mounted into the high-tech dashboard. "Just enter the numbers..."
Daphne blinked. "Oh my."
\*
If the car had dazzled her, with its assortment of state-of-the-art gizmos, then Jack's apartment was even more of a shock.
Dr. Jane's voice on the phone had sounded amused when Daphne had called her and told her where she was going and what she was doing.
"Jack Foster? Hmm. That name rings a bell somewhere." The older woman had thought for a moment. "Never mind. It'll come to me. Smart of you to check in, Daphne. And good luck. I'll be interested to hear the results of your...research."
She'd chuckled and hung up, leaving Daphne with a raised eyebrow, staring at the silent phone.
Both eyebrows had nearly hit her hairline when she'd stepped into Jack's place.
"Jack." The word came out as a gasp. She walked into something that could have figured as "Daphne's dream home" in the current issue of House Beautiful magazine.
The apartment building was low-key from the outside, and Jack had driven through the weathered pillars and into a space in the garage beneath. The elevator ride had been smooth and quiet, and it had only been moments before Daphne stood in the foyer of...paradise.
Gleaming wood floors radiated warmth as Jack turned on a few lights, and the deep red Oriental rug invited her toes to wiggle in it. He led her into the living room and once again her jaw dropped.
The walls were paneled, rich and elegant pine aged to a deep glow, and a large fireplace nestled into one corner. A ruby colored sofa filled a good portion of the space, with a low coffee table and a couple of matching ottomans nearby. There were bookshelves and wall units, and a huge flat screen television hung in the center of the space opposite the sofa like a technological Old Master.
"Oh. Wow."
Jack turned, his face a mixture of pride and embarrassment. "Do you like it?"
"Like it?" Wide eyed, Daphne turned slowly, trying to take it all in. "It's...it's...incredible. Beautiful."
"Thank you. I wanted to feel at home here. So I kind of...well, I did it the way I thought it ought to be."
"You did very well..." She walked slowly across the soft rug and touched her fingers gently to a solitary silk flower in a small vase. "You did it all yourself?"
Jack blinked. "Yes I did. Are you surprised?"
"I...no...I don't know. I don't know you or your tastes, of course, but this is just...magnificent." She sighed. "I love all the wood. So warm and welcoming."
Jack bent and fiddled with something next to the fireplace and a flame leaped inside, adding a glow to the corner of the room. He caught her watching him and chuckled. "I know. Fake. But there were fire codes to take into consideration."
She smiled. "It's the effect that counts, isn't it?" She continued her exploration of the room, pausing before a large bookshelf. She peered closer. What she'd assumed were paperbacks were actually DVDs---and there was a huge number of them.
"My word. You have quite a collection here, don't you?"
Jack cleared his throat. "It's...I suppose you could call it a hobby of mine."
She glanced through the titles. "Wow. Citizen Kane. Gaslight. Casablanca and the Maltese Falcon..." Daphne smiled. "You have good taste in movies."
She moved to another shelf. "Um. Debbie Does Dallas. Deep Throat." Her voice trailed off.
"All classics. There's something to be learned from every successful movie, regardless of the genre, you know." Jack led her to the sofa and took her bag and jacket. "Why don't I make us some coffee and then we'll get down to it?"
Daphne blushed. She'd love nothing more than to get down to it. Preferably on that nice soft rug. With Jack. "No more coffee for me, really. Thanks."
"No? Oh...I know. Gimme a second here..." He disappeared through a doorway only to reappear a few minutes later bearing two steaming mugs. "Try this. Guaranteed to chase away the chill of an autumn evening."
He did have a way with words. Daphne sniffed her drink, hiding her face so he couldn't see that the chills she had weren't in any way connected to the temperature outside. They were all to do with the man inside.
A rich, spicy fragrance met her nostrils and she tentatively sipped. "Oooh. That's delicious."
"Mulled wine. I made some the other day. It should be freshly brewed, of course, but I figured you'd forgive me for nuking it in the microwave. At least it's hot."
So are you.
She said nothing. What was there to say? I'd like you to claim me and make me a woman now, please. The hackneyed phrase from some purple romance novel flashed through her mind, and she focused on her mug. No claiming. No woman-making. She was here for research purposes only.
Jack reached for the DVD. "I guess it's time, huh?" He crossed to the components stacked neatly behind some glass doors, opened one, fiddled with buttons, knobs and other assorted electronics.
Good lord. Men and their gadgets.
He returned with that one essential testosterone builder. A remote control unit. This one looked capable of launching half of NASA's space program. "Ready?"
No.
"Yes."
\*
Jack surreptitiously dimmed the lights in the room with a button on his master remote control unit, leaving the two of them in semi-darkness. The firelight flickered comfortingly in one corner, and the large screen on the wall sent shafts of brightness across Daphne's face.
The FBI warning flashed up on the screen, and he saw her take in a deep breath. She was preparing herself.
He grinned and lay back against the sofa, letting one arm rest along the back. He hadn't sat close to her...much too obvious, but he'd made sure he was on the same piece of furniture.
Seducing Daphne was going to be a case of slow and easy steps.
Exactly when his interest in her had become a need to seduce her, he wasn't quite sure. Perhaps it had been the look of wonder in her eyes as she'd seen his apartment for the first time.
Or maybe her fascination with his car. Or maybe even the little note of excitement in her voice as she'd told her friend on the phone where she was going and what she was doing.
Perhaps it was all of the above. Perhaps it was none of the above.
All Jack knew was that he wanted this woman. For reasons unclear, unspecified and pretty much unknown. He just wanted her.
He wanted to know what she tasted like, how she'd feel beneath him, on top of him, around him and beside him.
He wanted to hear her pant as he teased her clit, and cry out as he shoved his cock deep into her. He wondered if she was a screamer or a moaner. He hoped it was both. Or none...or either. He realized it didn't matter.
The opening music swelled and Daphne jumped a little.
He smiled. "Surround sound. Home theater system." He nodded at the wall behind them. "Built-in speakers."
"Of course." Daphne shook her head and smiled weakly. "Dolby digital and all that THP stuff, right?"
"THX. Yep. If you're going to have a system like this, it's a sin to not go the distance."
"Of course..." Her voice trailed off as the opening credits started to roll.
Jack watched her. He knew what she was seeing. Hell, he'd damn near created it single-handedly.
The camera was slowly panning over a naked woman's body. Text announcing the film's title, stars and production staff, was rippling along the contours of the flesh, stopping and curling around parts considered too risqué for the audience targeted by this movie.
Too risqué at the beginning, anyway.
His own pseudonym would appear curving around the underside of her breast. "Produced and Directed by Big John Johnson." The score was richly sensual, and evocative of tropical beaches and the resort in which the film was set.
Sure, it was a thinly veiled rip-off of some of the early James Bond movie credit techniques, although Jack preferred the word "homage". Who cared? It worked. He used it frequently now, and it was almost a trademark.
Daphne swallowed and reached for her pad of paper and pen. She clasped it tightly on her lap as she crossed her legs.
Jack moved, tugging a coffee table closer to her and incidentally sliding his body a little nearer hers at the same time. "Here...you can put your notes and stuff on this."
She muttered her thanks as the movie began, not taking her eyes from the screen.
Jack knew it by heart.
Scene 1. An empty beach. Sunset. A woman walking alone.
Daphne leaned back a little, relaxing as she watched the lush footage. He knew it was lush---it had taken three days of frustration with rainstorms before the light had been just right and Merrill had been able to take that walk. She'd had the moves down perfectly, infusing the swing of her thong-clad ass with just the right amount of sexuality and sensuality.
It had been one shoot that had gone very smoothly, and taught Jack a lot about the value of hiring experienced actors and actresses as opposed to porn stars.
Scene 2. The man surfing in on the last of the day's waves. Crashing onto the shore.
Jack watched Daphne as she took in Bart's body. He was one good-looking guy, filled out his Speedo to perfection, and the water droplets glistened on his tawny skin as he stumbled from the waves to collapse in front of Merrill.
He'd never even winced, even though it had been revealed later that the sand had scraped a nasty welt on one knee.
God bless the pros.
Scene 3. Merrill hurries to the body lying on the shore. She touches him and his eyes open. His hand reaches up slowly and cradles her head.
Daphne began to fidget.
"I think he's going to kiss her, don't you?" Jack asked the question quietly, but she still jumped a little at the sound of his voice.
"He shouldn't. They haven't even spoken to each other, for heaven's sake."
She sounded a little breathless. Jack stifled a grin.
"Don't you get the feeling that for these two it doesn't matter?" He slipped next to her on the couch, letting his thigh brush hers. He noted with interest that she didn't pull away.
Scene 4. They kiss. Followed rapidly by Scene 5. They fuck on the beach.
"Don't you think that sometimes...just sometimes...words are unnecessary?" Jack pressed slightly against her arm. It was warm through her silk shirt.
"I...I don't...oh my."
Daphne's eyes widened as she saw the man's hand remove the skimpy bikini top and drop to cradle the woman's breasts.
Jack glanced at the screen. He had to admit he had a soft spot for Merrill's breasts. They were damn near perfect.
He looked back at Daphne. Well, perhaps hers were close. He wanted to find out.
She cleared her throat. "Goodness."
"Attractive, isn't she?"
"She's...um...yes. Very nice. No tan lines either."
Daphne was definitely squirming. It was a little move of her hips, but it was enough to tell Jack that she was paying close attention. He knew what she was seeing---Bart's mouth on Merrill's breasts, sucking, teasing and loving those extraordinary nipples.
"And she's enjoying it, wouldn't you say?" He closed the distance between them and let his breath fan the little hairs that had tumbled around Daphne's ear.
"It---it certainly looks that way."
"So it's simply the give and take of mutual pleasure, Daphne..."
Her nipples hardened into tight buds beneath the thin silk. Jack began to ache, and did his best to ignore his cock. He'd watched this film a gazillion times.
Fuck it. It wasn't the film turning him on. It was Daphne.
Oh Jesus. Oh sweet lord. What had she gotten herself into?
Nobody had ever told her that watching this stuff could be so arousing, or she'd never have considered watching it with someone like Jack beside her.
She'd always figured that porn was just that. Porn. No redeeming social values, no plot, no romance...just insert Tab A into Slot B and repeat as necessary.
This was...this was...hot.
She gulped in a breath of air, trying to ignore the heat radiating from the body of the man next to her. And the featherlight touch of his hand on her shoulder.
All the time, the couple on the screen embraced, their subtle moans of delight becoming stronger as they stripped off what was left of their swimsuits. Although how someone could actually swim in a thong, Daphne wasn't quite sure.
The woman dropped to her knees on the sand and the camera swung around, focusing on the man's face as he threw his head back and groaned.
Oh Jesus. Oh sweet lord.
"Looks very realistic, doesn't it?" Jack's arm was now resting on her shoulders and his hand touched her, rubbing soft circles against the sensitive skin of her upper arm through her shirt.
"Um...yes. Very."
Jack's body rested against hers and she found herself half-lying against him as the movie continued. Darkness was falling on the beach, and a huge moon was rising. She shifted a little and gasped as her elbow grazed Jack's crotch.
The moon wasn't the only thing that had risen.
Grateful for the semi-darkness of the room, Daphne blushed. It was the sight of the couple on the screen, of course. Men got easily aroused at that sort of thing.
The lovers tumbled together into a heap, onto a convenient towel.
"Uh, Jack?" Daphne turned, surprised to find Jack's face so close to hers.
"Yes?"
"Where did the towel come from?"
He brushed an errant lock of hair away from her ear. "Does it matter?"
Oh God. When he looked at her like that, like she was the most important woman in the world, nothing mattered. Nothing except...a whole bunch of things she shouldn't be thinking about.
A moan from the screen drew her gaze back, just in time to see the woman suck the man's finger into her mouth as he touched her face.
"I...guess...um..." Daphne floundered. He'd asked her something. What the hell was it?
Jack grinned and lightly brushed his finger down her nose. If she'd opened her mouth, would he have let her suck his finger like that?
"They needed to lie on something, honey. Sand gets into a lot of awkward places, you know."
"It does?"
"Oh yeah. Ever made love on a beach, Daphne?"
She blinked and shook her head, completely unable to answer him. Green eyes were gazing at her, something very confusing lurking in their depths. She could almost believe it was---desire.
But that was impossible.
Wasn't it?
The movie lovers were speaking. Ah. Dialogue at last. Grateful for the distraction, Daphne turned her attention away from the man beside her and back to the screen.
"You're a dream. A goddess. Something the sea created for me."
"No. I'm real. Touch me. Take me. Make me feel..."
Please Jack. Daphne bit her lip. Dear God---don't let her have said that out loud.
Jack's hand rested on her neck and his hand gently pulled her hairpins from her untidy bun. He slid his fingers through the strands and massaged her scalp as the last one fell free.
"There. That's better. Now you can concentrate." He tossed the pins onto the coffee table.
Yeah. Right. Of course she could concentrate. There was a gorgeous couple making hot and passionate love on a perfect tropical beach in front of her, and a gorgeous man making her hot and passionate by rubbing her scalp, sitting next to her.
At this point, her concentration had run away to join the circus.
She arched her neck, resting her head in Jack's palm, and enjoying his touch. Part of her watched as the couple on the sand moved and twined around each other, kissing, parting, touching, groaning...oh God.
"How do you like it so far?" It was a whisper that scorched her body.
She could have sworn his tongue touched her ear. Her panties were getting soaked, her breasts were aching, and she was hotter than fire. Any more of this and she was going to start some dialogue of her own. Something along the lines of "ravish me, you...you...beast!"
She turned her head to answer.
He was inches away.
Instinctively, her eyes dropped to his lips and as her mouth opened to respond, the most incredible thing happened.
He kissed her.
And she kissed him back.
As he sank his tongue into her mouth, a dam broke inside Daphne and she found herself flooded with sensations that brought a gasp of amazement to her throat.
His arms trapped her close to him, and his lips teased hers, pressing close then pulling away, only to return and demand more.
It was a kiss like she'd never experienced, and probably never would again, so she threw herself into it with abandon. Turning herself in his embrace, she pressed her breasts against his chest, loving the hardness that squashed them nearly flat.
She let her hands roam around his shoulders and up behind his neck, sifting the silky strands of hair through her fingers as she opened her mouth wider, inviting him inside.
She was breathless, hot and chilled by turns, and her mind whirled with the scent of him, the taste of him, and the feel of him as he held her close and kissed her into some new form of hallucinogenic heaven.
Her one brush with marijuana hadn't been half as potent. She'd gotten hungry and then nauseous. This was sending her on a trip to someplace she'd never known existed. The thought flashed through her mind that now she understood the meaning of the overused phrase "drugging kisses".
Oh God. She could get addicted to this waaaaay too quickly.
Carefully, she eased their mouths apart. "Oh my."
Jack cleared his throat and cuddled her close. "You kiss like an angel, Daph. That was...so good."
Yes. Oh yes. Good. Never mind that she hated to be called "Daph". Never mind that she'd only known him for a few hours. Yes. It was so...good.
A cry from the screen distracted her, and she blinked, trying to focus on the action now taking place in a hotel room. At least it saved her from throwing herself on Jack and begging him to kiss her again. More. A lot more.
Two new lovers were arguing. "They're having problems with their relationship." His voice was pure seduction. "They've been having great sex, but she's wondering if it's enough."
"Oh." Daphne cleared her throat and tried again. "Oh."
"Do you think sex is enough, Daph?"
"Enough for what, Jack?" Good lord. Was that breathy whisper really coming from her?
He rubbed his nose down her cheek and lightly licked the corner of her mouth. Then turned back to the screen.
She followed his gaze.
Ohmigod.
They were up against the door of the hotel room, the woman digging her hands into the man's shoulders as he rammed himself into her, making her breasts jiggle with his force. Her face contorted, color rushed to her cheeks, and if it was acting, then in Daphne's admittedly inexperienced opinion, that actress deserved an Academy Award.
She watched, spellbound, as the woman screamed out in orgasm, trembling and shuddering while her partner thrust home again and again, finally shouting his own release.
They collapsed in a heap on the carpet.
Dear heavens. What would it be like to have sex that...that...intense?
Unthinkingly, she turned her head and looked at Jack.
He stared back at her, eyelids heavy and pupils darkly shadowed in the green of his eyes.
Daphne's heart lurched. Her body ached, her panties were soaked and she wanted one thing and one thing only.
She blinked, and let this new awareness seep into her soul. She wanted.
She wanted Jack like she'd never wanted anything in her life before.
And he knew.
\*
Jack groaned as Daphne flung herself on him and plastered her mouth to his. She was all fire and need in his arms and he couldn't get enough.
Her hands slipped to his shirt and she fumbled with the buttons, finally losing patience and ripping the last couple free. He gasped as her mouth traced a line from his throat down to his nipples and found one, tasting it and playing with it with enthusiasm.
His own hands were busy sliding her soft shirt up and pulling it free of her arms, and she nearly fought him until she realized what he was doing, then she quickly whipped it off over her head. Her serviceable cotton bra was gone in two seconds flat, and with a mutual sigh of pleasure their skin touched.
She was all softness and warmth, rubbing herself against him like a cat in heat.
And her lips were everywhere. Just when she'd found one particular spot to explore, something else caught her attention and she moved, a hot, naked quicksilver woman writhing on top of him.
His heart was pounding as he tried to keep up with her. His cock was about to explode through his pants and he was burning every bit as much as she was. But it was too quick.
He wanted to savor this. To show her how good it could be, not shove himself into her and come in ten seconds flat. Well, okay, that was a lie. He did want to shove himself into her and it wouldn't even take ten seconds for him to come either.
There was something about her that lit a few fires Jack never knew still existed. Fires that seared his balls, stopped his heart in his throat somewhere and made him want to hold her so tight she'd be forever imprinted on his skin.
Her hair tickled his nose and he fought a sneeze, the momentary distraction helping him drag his mind out of his cock.
"Daph...baby...slow down."
It was a groan rather than the seductive whisper he'd intended, and for a moment he wasn't sure she'd heard.
But she had. She pulled back and gasped. "Oh my God. What am I doing? I'm...I'm... Oh God!"
Jack wasn't about to let her lose the moment. His hands slid up her waist and cupped her breasts. "You're doing just fine. I want to touch you too." He moved their bodies into a more comfortable position on the couch and lowered his head to her breast, finding the pebbled nipple and sucking it gently into his mouth.
"You taste wonderful."
She sighed. "So do you."
Her hands smoothed across his shoulders as he bent his head to her breasts once again, and she arched her back encouragingly.
Jack answered her invitation with every bit of skill he possessed.
He suckled and licked and tongued her nipples, first one then the other, letting his hand take over when his mouth slicked free. She felt like spice and sweetness on his tongue, unique and delicate and...and...Daphne.
He let his hand slip behind her as he rasped the edges of his teeth over the hard bud he was currently loving. Carefully he slid his palm beneath her pants and underwear, finding the smooth softness of her bottom. It filled his hand to perfection, and he gently squeezed.
She moaned and her hips shifted beneath him.
He damn near came in his jeans just from the brush of her pussy against the fabric stretched taut over the biggest hard-on he'd had in years.
He pulled his face from her breasts and stretched out full-length, half on top of her. As his hand went to the fastenings on her pants, he kissed her once more, deeply, thrusting his tongue into her mouth and demanding she do the same.
Within seconds what was left of her clothes tangled around her knees and she kicked herself free of them.
He couldn't wait.
Still eating her mouth fiercely, his hand found her belly and moved lower---lower, slipping over her softness to the thatch of curls on her pussy.
His fingers threaded through the hairs, seeking...searching...and finally finding---paradise.
\*
Daphne's heart thudded as she felt Jack's fingers between her legs.
Their breaths mingled, their tongues tangled and her body was on fire. Daphne the librarian had long since vanished, leaving Daphne the oversexed wild woman in her place.
And there was something digging into the wild woman's hip. Something long and hard and she wanted to touch it, feel it against her, skin to skin.
As Jack moved his hand around, sending shivers of electricity deep into her body, she reached for his fly and snapped it open.
He growled into her mouth and wriggled his hips, helping her free him of the tight clothing. And then...there it was.
His...his cock.
Daringly, she curled her fingers around it, exploring the hot velvety feel of it, the solid muscle lying beneath the skin and the irregular ridges that marked it.
"Daph..." He groaned as she tightened her grasp. "Daph..."
"I'm sorry..." She pulled her head back slightly. "Am I hurting you?" She let go in concern.
"God no." He pulled her hand back to him roughly. "Touch me, Daph. It...it feels...wonderful."
She took him into her hand again. "Yes, it does."
This was...amazing.
Her thighs were parting at his touch, his cock lying hot and throbbing in her hand and she was stark naked beneath the most gorgeous man she'd ever seen. And he wanted her with just about the same amount of need she was feeling.
Then his fingers slid over a particular fold of flesh and she choked. "Oh my God..."
He touched her, pressed her, pulled and tugged her skin in ways that made her eyeballs roll back in her head and her hips writhe against the sofa. He'd found her clit and played it like a maestro with a Stradivarius.
A small part of her mind stood there, mouth agape, in amazement. Well darn. Eyeballs really did roll. Who knew?
She lost her focus completely, letting her instincts drive her. Her legs parted, slipping over his thigh, brushing herself against him, always moving, squirming, fighting to get the right part of him nearer the right part of her.
"Oh Jesus, Daph..." His breath hissed between his teeth as her pussy slid slickly over his cock. "You're so fucking hot..."
Words caught in her throat as his body covered hers. She felt him move, reaching, tearing...grabbing something... "Whaa..."
"Protection, sweetheart. Relax..."
Protection. Ah, yes. Right. Safe sex and all that. The hell with safe sex. All she wanted was the sex. Thank God he had the presence of mind to remember, since she had no mind left at all, let alone any with presence in it.
She only had one goal. To get him inside her.
Now.
Jack struggled with the condom as a bead of sweat rolled down his nose and dropped onto Daphne's flesh. He was almost amazed it didn't sizzle and pop when it landed.
She was hotter than fire beneath him, and he fought with himself against the need to come. He, Jack Foster, aka "Big John Johnson". The man who'd filmed men and women fucking in every position known to the human race and even invented a few, was reduced to hanging on to his own control by the skin of his teeth.
One more slide of that silky skin against his and he was going to lose it all over his hands like a goddamned fucking teenager.
Part of him was astounded that this librarian-turned-wanton-sex-fiend had all but pushed him over the edge of control.
The rest of him wanted in. Now.
His senses were swimming in a sea of her scent...fresh, clean and all Daphne. Her juices flooded his fingers and seared his cock as he rubbed the head against her clit, loving her panting breaths and the little throaty moans that she couldn't hold back.
She wasn't holding anything back, Jack realized. Nothing was forced, nothing was faked...this was as real as it got.
She wanted Jack Foster's cock fucking her. That was all. And to Jack, it was everything.
He braced his weight on his hands. "Daphne...honey...open your eyes. Look at me, Daph..."
She slowly raised her lids and he stared into her shadowed brown eyes. "Watch me, sweetheart. Watch me. I'm going to slide my cock into you. I'm going to feel you around me. I want your heat...I want to be in your cunt...watch me, Daph..."
Watch me.
She did. She held his gaze as he pushed himself into her body. She was tight, oh-so-tight, but he felt her body opening for his penetration as her moisture smoothed his way inside.
She was trembling, and goddammit---so was he.
He sank deep into her cunt, sighing with pleasure as she welcomed him, parting her thighs wide and letting him finally come to rest against her pussy. His balls brushed her skin and he shivered. Honest-to God shivered.
He'd never felt anything quite like this.
Never shared anything quite like this.
Wide-eyed, she watched him, teeth biting down on her lower lip as he stilled, his cock deep within her. He couldn't look away from her face, even when his body forced him to move, to pull back and free of her, only to plunge down into heaven once again.
"Jack..." It was a whisper of sound and yet he heard it and it rocketed through his gut like lightning.
His hips pounded into her, beyond his control, and her cunt clung to him, releasing only to tighten around him once more.
They found a natural rhythm, a dance à deux that was older than time but seemed brand new to both of them. It certainly was for Jack.
His balls had tightened to rocks between his legs, slapping against Daphne as he thrust again and again. He knew he was going to come, knew he had to come, and yet he wanted to wait...to explore these new sensations...this new feeling of...what?
It was a losing battle. Nature was about to triumph.
Shifting his weight, Jack slipped one hand between their bodies and found Daphne's clit. All it took was a slight caress and she was choking, gasping for air and a scream boiling up in her throat.
"Jaaaack..."
She came around him, through him, clamping down on him ferociously and with such a total lack of control that he surrendered and fell with her.
Life, as he'd known it up to that moment, had ended.
Something new had begun.
\*
Daphne heard music.
At first she wondered if it was the aftereffects of the most incredibly gut-clenching orgasm she'd ever had. Then she realized it was the soundtrack to the movie they'd never watched.
She snorted to herself. Who needed to watch it when you could do it?
And, darn it, they'd done it. Oh boy had they done it.
Jack eased himself away from her, and she repressed the urge to hold him tight and beg him not to move for a couple of thousand years.
She sighed. It was over. A fabulous...fuck...yes. That was the word. Four letters, social unacceptability and all. They'd fucked. Like minks or whatever rodent it was that apparently fucked its little brains out.
She cast a glance around her in case there were any bits of her brain that had shaken loose during the whole experience.
Nope. Nothing but a tumbled pile of clothes.
Jack disappeared through a doorway and she heard water running. Stiffly, she reached for her underwear, wrinkling her nose at its sodden state. Ugh. Still, it had been worth it.
She slipped her feet into her panties and tugged them up, wincing as the cool damp cotton met hot sticky flesh. She shivered, and grabbed her bra and shirt.
"You're dressing."
She blinked. Jack stood watching her, splendidly naked, cock nestled softly between his legs, but the rest of him beautifully hard and sculpted. Oh lord, he was a true work of art in the classical sense.
Her nipples hardened once more. Okay. Not just in the classical sense.
"Yes...I..." Oh dear. Now what? "I...um..."
He grinned at her. Damn him.
"Sweetheart." Jack unselfconsciously stepped into his briefs. "You're embarrassed now, aren't you?"
She gulped. "A little. I don't know what to say...what I should do... I'm not used to... I don't do...um..."
He sat down next to her and grabbed her hand. The one that was waving helplessly in the air as she sought for words.
"Well, you could tell me that it was as good for you as it was for me. You could tell me your world rocked. You could ask me for a cigarette..."
"I don't smoke." She stared at him, trying to read his eyes. "But yes to everything else, Jack. It was beyond awesome. You rocked my world."
She could swear she felt a slight tremor in the hand that held hers. "Honestly, Jack. I'm not very experienced at all this stuff, it's true. But that...what we just did? I...don't know what to say." She looked away. "Thank you seems a little inadequate."
"How about 'can we do it again'?"
"Now?" Daphne's brain spun off into orbit once more.
His laugh was warm. "Well, darlin', I could probably go for a double-header, but something tells me you're going to be a bit sore, if you're not already."
She felt the color rise in her cheeks at his words.
"I...um..."
He pulled her into his arms, and she sighed at the touch of his bare skin to hers. "So how long has it been?"
"Since I did...this?"
"Mmm hmm."
Daphne thought. And thought.
"That long, huh?" Jack's voice was amused.
"Honestly?" She glanced at him. "Never."
"Jesus." He sucked in a breath. "You're not saying you were a virgin?"
She chuckled. "No. But I've never done it like that before. That was a first for me, Jack."
He hugged her tightly. "I'm glad. It was kind of a first for me too."
"It was?"
He looked oddly selfconscious. "Yeah. Well. Kinda. It was...um...wild, you know?"
"For the record, I don't attack men like that. Don't know what came over me."
"I'd like to think I did."
His voice was low and sensual, and Daphne got goose bumps all over again thinking of Jack coming over her. "Oh you did."
He raised his hand and gently stroked her cheek. "You all right, babe?"
Well darn. Why did he have to do things like that? It made it hard for her to think. She closed her eyes and enjoyed his touch. "Mmm."
"Daph?"
"Mmm?"
"Want to go out on a date?"
Her eyes snapped open. "What?"
"A date. You know. Dinner, maybe a movie. A date."
"Good lord. Isn't that putting the cart before the horse? Or bolting the barn door...or something?" Now she was mixing her metaphors. Daphne never mixed her metaphors.
He simply smiled, that devastating, make-my-thighs-sweat smile. "I don't care. We'll do things our way. Make new rules. A date."
He shrugged a little, rubbing Daphne's flesh with his own. Okay hormones. Cut it out. I need to be able to walk tomorrow.
"Unless you don't want to---"
"No, no! I mean yes. I mean..." She blew air through her teeth. "I mean, yes---I'd love to go out with you, Jack. Really." She let her fingers drift to his chest and play in the soft whorls of hair. "Really."
He laughed. "Cool. It's a date." He put his hand over hers and held it tight against him. "I'd love to ask you to spend the night Daph, but it's probably too soon, huh?"
Nope. It's just right thanks. "Um, yes. It probably is." Daphne sighed and withdrew her hand from his. Oh...oh...darn.
"C'mon, sweetheart. I'll take you home. We'll make plans for our date. A real date, Daph. Think about it."
She struggled into her clothes, a little confused. A date? Jack Foster, super-handsome, obviously rich guy, who drove a red Corvette yet, was excited about a date? With her?
Well, it looked like there was a herd of cows about to come home. Or the moon was blue. Or something. It really was Daphne's day for miracles to happen. She made a mental note to mix her metaphors more often.
\*
Jack unbuckled his seat belt, leaned over and kissed Daphne. She was warm and willing and her lips met his with an innocent enthusiasm that was now fueled by a knowledge of the passion that lay between them.
It was arousing, heady and made Jack's senses swim. His cock was hard again, and he wondered what the fuck was the matter with him. He should have her in his bed, smothered in silk sheets, and sticky from more loving. Lots more loving. In every way he could think of. And right now, he could think of plenty.
But instead, he was kissing her goodnight like some horny teenager after the prom.
"Goodnight, Jack." She peeled her lips from his, eyes shadowed with tiredness and a soft smile curving her lips.
"So it's a date for Friday, right?"
Shit. Push her, why don't you? Jack mentally kicked himself in the balls. They were hard enough so that it barely hurt.
"You bet." She smiled and brushed his mouth with hers once more before sliding from the leather seat. "Goodnight."
He'd gotten her phone number, found out where she lived and where she worked. They'd made plans for Friday. All was as it should be.
And yet...and yet...he didn't want to let her go.
He watched her cute ass swaying up the walkway.. He watched her turn back and wave as she unlocked the apartment doors and let herself inside. He watched her wait for the elevator and give him a final wave as she stepped out of his sight.
And then she was gone.
Jack drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. This was so...weird.
His apartment seemed strangely empty when he let himself back in. Instead of his haven, his sanctuary, it was now lacking something.
And he knew what that something was. It was Daphne.
The little librarian with the awful taste in colors and the eyes that lit up like fire when she---oh fuck.
He ignored the hard-on that sprang to life at his memories, and went about his usual routine. But he couldn't keep his thoughts in check and she intruded everywhere.
He brushed his teeth---and thought about Daphne.
He turned out the lights and checked the locks. And thought about Daphne.
He put the coffee into the pot and set the timer. And thought about Daphne.
He finally slipped between the sheets of his own bed. And...
Sheeeeiiittt.
She was there too. All curvy body, hair flying, smile lighting up her face. Jack groaned as his cock made sleep impossible.
There was so much he didn't know about her. Did she like flowers? What kind of music did she like?
Was she a football fan? Was she allergic to peanuts?
He wanted to know everything about her. Everything. Right down to the last little detail.
They had a date. For Friday, if he could last that long. He'd have made it sooner if he hadn't had work to finish, a shoot to complete that he knew would last long into the nights ahead. But by Friday it would be done. Had to be done, since the contracts had specified the date, and Big John Johnson had never gone over contract.
A thought intruded.
Somehow, sometime, someplace, he was going to have to tell Daphne who he really was. And what he really did.
And the consequent thought sent a chill down his spine and deflated his cock almost instantaneously.
How would she take it? How would she react to knowing that she was dating one of the biggest names in the porn industry? Would she still want to see him? Would she dump him? Or worse...
Would she turn into someone like the rest of the women he'd dated? Hungry for what he could give her, what he could do for her? What he had?
Not who he was?
Oh fuuuuuuuck.
For one of the few times she could remember, Daphne wished she had a close girlfriend. Someone she could talk to about her incredible experience with Jack Foster.
Instead, she spent the next morning doing her job, efficiently handling the day-to-day business of the library, and doing it all with only half her mind.
The other half---well, that was still on Jack's red couch, writhing in pleasure.
Was this normal? Was she developing some weird complex about the man? He intruded on her every waking moment, and she sighed as she tried for the third time to alphabetize the returns on the cart.
G comes before J. And I came---but not before J. We came together. Just about.
No. Bad mind. Forget about it for now. Focus on work.
The sound of the phone ringing in her tiny office was a welcome distraction. Dr. Jane was out of town for the day, so it couldn't be her. Probably just someone wanting to reserve a book.
How dare they interrupt her thought processes? What the hell did they think this was, a library or something? She closed her door with a sigh and went around to sit at her desk.
And do her job, dammit, not think about Jack Foster.
Daphne chuckled at her own stupidity and picked up the phone. "Hello. City Library. Daphne Littlewood speaking. May I help you?"
"Oh I sure hope so, babe."
Ohmigod. It was Jack.
He'd called!
Daphne resisted the urge to squeal and dance around the room. But it wasn't easy. She swallowed. "Jack?"
"Yeah, it's me, sweetheart. I just wanted to make sure you were okay today?" His voice dropped and her panties damn near fell off with it. "Not too sore or anything?"
"No, no. Not at all." Okay. Breathy sighs weren't good. "I'm fine. Really. Thanks for asking." Sounding pathetic wasn't good either. And begging him to come over right now and check things out for himself probably was inappropriate behavior for a librarian.
"I'm glad." He paused. "No regrets? We still on for Friday?"
"Absolutely. No regrets at all. I'm looking forward to it." And so is my crotch to judge by the state of my underwear from just thinking about it.
"Great. I just heard that the Wildwood Theater is showing Casablanca. Want to come see it with me?"
Daphne smiled. "Jack, I'm forced to point out that you have the DVD in your collection, you know."
"Yeah. But there's something about the theater experience. You know, popcorn, candies, soda. Necking with your girlfriend in the dark..." His voice trailed off suggestively.
Daphne's thighs responded to the suggestion by tingling. She fidgeted. "Well, I do love that movie. And the Wildwood is a great old theater."
Jack sighed. "It is. And I don't know how long it will last, either. It would be a shame to see it torn down."
Daphne sat up. "They're going to tear it down? I didn't hear that?"
"They're making noises about it. Some developer wants to put a strip mall in on that site. And the Wildwood isn't doing very well, business-wise."
Daphne bit her lip. "Damn. I hate that bottom line thing. The Wildwood's been around forever. My parents used to see shows there before they made it into a cinema. Great architecture too."
"So what do you say, babe? Friday night at the Wildwood? Casablanca? Bogey and Bergman? 'We'll always have Paris'?"
"Yes. Oh yes, Jack. It sounds like so much fun."
He paused. "Daphne?"
"Yes?"
"You alone right now?"
"Um...yes?"
Jack's voice was soft over the phone. "I can smell you on my fingers, sweetheart."
Ohmigod. Daphne gulped.
"I can still smell that sweetness I touched. If I close my eyes I can still feel you."
"You...you can?"
His voice got even softer. "Oh yeah. Can't you? Can't you remember how it felt when I was touching you? Sucking those luscious nipples of yours? Licking them and tugging them 'til they got so hard in my mouth?"
"Jaaaack..."
"I get so hard just thinking about it, Daph. And you're not even here. But I'm still hard. I still want you. I want to be inside you right now...right this minute. Buried deep inside you."
"Jaaaaaaaaack..."
"Do you want that too, sweetheart?"
Daphne moaned. "Dear lord, Jack. What are you doing to me?"
"I can't tell from here, babe. You'll have to tell me. Am I making you wet?"
"God yes..." The confession was wrung from her before she could stop herself.
"Daphne? Do something for me?" He paused. "Touch yourself."
Ohmigod.
"Just slip your hand into your panties and tell me what you feel."
"I...I can't..."
"Yes you can. Do it, babe. Talk to me while you're doing it. Give me something to help me make it 'til Friday. Please..."
It was the growled "please" that got to Daphne. Something in his voice, some need, touched a chord inside her that responded with a fierce surge of arousal.
Blessing her quiet office and the closed door, Daphne surreptitiously slipped her hand into her pants, blushing like crazy but unable to stop herself.
"Okay, Jack."
"Okay what, babe? Talk to me. Tell me what you're feeling. Describe it."
"Jaaaaaaack...." Daphne's flesh tingled as she slid her hand further down, finding heat and moisture at the junction of her thighs. No kidding. She was so turned on, and this was midday. In her office, for goodness sake.
She'd heard the expression "inner slut" before, but figured it had gotten left out of her genetic makeup. Well guess what, Daphne? I'm here.
"Daphne..." Jack whispered low into the phone. Even her ear was sweating. "Talk to me, baby."
"I'm...I'm feeling heat, Jack."
"Me too. What else, sweetheart? You reach that soft hair of yours yet? You reach your pussy?"
She swallowed. "Yes...I feel it. Yes Jack."
"Go on, honey. Lower. Keep going. Find that sweet spot, that place I found last night. And that place I want to taste. I want to bury my face there, sweetheart."
Daphne's heartbeat accelerated as she slid her hand lower, finding hot and wet folds of flesh tingling beneath her fingertips. She gasped as she found her clit, swollen and anxious to be touched.
"You found it, didn't you? I can hear you breathing..."
"Oh my God."
"Move your fingers, Daph. Around, up and down, the way you like...tell me."
"I...I'm rubbing, Jack. Gently. I'm so wet...dear heavens..." Her throat closed on a choke as her breasts began to ache.
"Does it feel good? Would it feel good if it were my fingers rubbing you? Sliding through your honey? Pretend it's me, Daph. My hand...or even better...my mouth..."
Daphne gasped at the pleasure of his words combined with her touch. She closed her eyes, letting her mind see Jack between her thighs. Oh God. If he ever put his mouth there, she'd die...of ecstasy.
"You're getting near, aren't you Daph?" His voice was strained now, the phone crackling slightly, as if he was moving too. "I can hear your breathing. You're panting. You're seeing me with my tongue on your clit. Sucking it. Loving it. Watching your eyes as I do it..."
"Oh Jesus, Jack..." The words were jerked from her mouth as her arousal grew to fever pitch. This had never happened to her before. At least not without a glass of wine, a long soak in a warm bathtub and her vibrator. And even then, not very often.
She just assumed she wasn't a very sensual person.
Certainly not the sort of person who'd sit around in her office with her hand down her panties bringing herself to orgasm. Because that's what she was doing. Helped along by a hot voice on the other end of the phone line.
"Daphne...come for me, babe. I want to hear you come. I want to hear you gasp and choke as you do it to yourself. I want to imagine what you look like right this minute...all flushed and beautiful. I want to imagine it's my cock inside you. Put your fingers inside, Daph. Do it..."
To her amazement, Daphne did it. She slipped two fingers into her own body, through her own moisture, and kept up the pressure on that little nubbin of exquisitely sensitive flesh. And she could darn near see Jack's face as she did it.
She sucked in air to her starving lungs.
"Yessss, babe...yessss. You're almost there, aren't you..." Jack's voice was rough now, echoing her own sobbing breaths.
"Oh God, Jack...I'm going to...it's going to..."
"Let it, babe. Come. Come and shout into the phone while you do. I wanna hear it...I wanna share it...let go, Daph...do it..."
She let go. Let the spasms swamp her, muffling her cry as she did. She shuddered and shook and choked out a gasp. "Jaaaack."
And several miles away, Jack Foster came too.
Erupting hot streams of come into a bunch of wadded tissue, Jack Foster let himself climax over the phone.
And shocked the shit out of himself as he did so.
What had begun as a slightly wicked phone call, intended to check up on Daphne and turn her on a little, had become a fully engaged bout of the hottest phone sex he could ever remember.
"Jesus H." He panted into the phone, still glued to the receiver and listening to Daphne's orgasm as it whimpered to a close.
"Dear lord."
Well, if nothing else, they'd both found religion this morning. "You okay, babe?"
There was silence for a moment. Jack's heart missed a couple of beats as he waited for Daphne's reply.
"Yes. I think so. Good grief. That's never... I've never... I mean...Jaaaack."
He grinned. A wholly wicked, satisfied, just-made-my-woman-come-over-the-phone kind of grin. "I know, babe. Me too. That was some hot phone sex."
"Is that what we did? Phone sex?"
"What would you call it?"
"Ummm."
Jack tidied himself up as he waited for Daphne to think up a suitable response. He found he was still smiling. What was it about this woman?
"Well." Her voice came back on the line, a little stronger now. "I suppose, yes. Phone sex. My word." She paused. "Don't think any less of me, Jack. But actually it was rather...fun."
"Why should I think less of you? I think...I think I..." Words sprang to his lips, but he bit them back. Christ. He'd nearly said the unthinkable. "I think you're one hot woman who really turns me on. And it makes me proud that I can return the favor."
There. His psyche neatly sidestepped issues of emotions and annoying things like the fact that his heartbeat went nuts when he thought of Daphne. That he wanted to take her to the Caribbean for a week and see her run naked through the surf.
That he wanted to spend more than one date with her. That he wanted to buy her a puppy just to see her eyes light up. That he wanted...more than just her body.
Oh hell.
Jack was in trouble, and he knew it.
Funny thing was...he didn't care.
"Me? Hot?" She snorted, jerking Jack's thoughts back to the conversation. "I have to tell you, Jack, the word 'hot' is not usually used in conjunction with me."
"Sweetheart, you just hadn't met the right guy." And I'm him. He. Whatever. "But you have now. You set me on fire. And believe me, it's my pleasure to return the favor."
"Well." She sounded relaxed. "I suppose I should get back to work."
"We're still on for Friday, yes?" Good Christ. He couldn't get enough. They'd just shared phone sex, both orgasmed, and he was still ready for more.
"Oh yes."
Her enthusiastic response shot straight to his long-suffering cock. If he was going to finish his shoot and have the time for Daphne he wanted, he had to get his mind off her and back where it belonged. On his work.
And the three-way fuck he had to film when the crew got back from lunch.
Funny thing. He got no excitement from the thought of the afternoon's schedule at all. But one lax moment of thinking about being with Daphne in a darkened movie theater---and wham. Mr. BigBoy rose again.
Jack sighed. "Good. I'm looking forward to it." And that was the understatement of the year.
Saying goodbye and hanging up on Daphne was the hardest thing Jack could remember doing for a long time.
He frowned as he made his way back to the studio floor.
He'd known her for a matter of hours. Fucked her. Called her and had phone sex with her. So it was all about the sex, right? Like everything else in his life.
Uh-uh. His conscience shook its finger at him.
You're lying to yourself, Jack. She's something special. She let you make love to her, not fuck her, and you know it, sure as shit. Daphne couldn't fuck if her life depended on it. She makes love.
And she'd made love to Jack Foster. Sure, she'd seen the car and the apartment, but hell, he had a feeling she'd have made love to him regardless of where he lived or what he drove. She was that type of woman.
One he'd never expected to meet.
Certainly not in this lifetime.
A loud bray of laughter greeted him, and three naked bodies stood in various positions of boredom around the set.
"C'mon, Big John. We've got some fucking to do here, and I've got plans for later." Brad Marshall grabbed his cock and began arousing it. "Can we get to it, Mr. Producer? Pretty please?"
Donna Childs pouted. "He just wants to get in my ass, Big John. You make sure he lubes up real good, okay?"
Oscar Dalhousie simply grinned. He was gonna get sucked off, either which way. He didn't care.
The crew went to work, the filming resumed, and Donna got it up the ass while sucking cock. Big John Johnson was putting another porn masterpiece "into the can".
Lube was plentiful, Oscar got to come down Donna's throat as well as on her tits, which pleased him to no end, and Brad looked damned fine while plunging into Donna's well-greased hole.
And all the time, Jack Foster was thinking about Daphne Littlewood and a Friday night date at the movies.
The Wildwood Theater wasn't the most gorgeous piece of architecture on the block. In fact, as Daphne got out of Jack's Corvette on Friday night, she had to admit that it was actually quite ugly from the outside.
But it looked like heaven to her. Someplace where she was going on a date with the handsomest man in the world, who wanted to date her.
Who'd shown up right on time, opened the car door for her, and generally made her feel like he really wanted to be there with her.
It was...intoxicating, to say the least. And to her eyes, the Wildwood looked just fine.
Jack did things to a small unit on his key ring and the car beeped in response.
Daphne grinned. Good lord, how men loved their toys. As if a woman would put an alarm on her hair dryer. Well, okay, hair dryers were a dime a dozen, and didn't hang out in dark parking lots. Nor did they cost as much as the annual budget of a small third world nation, but the principle was the same. Sort of.
She shrugged off her internal debate and let Jack lead her into the foyer of the theater.
Daphne breathed in that scent unique to cinemas the world over---a blend of popcorn, spilled sodas and humanity, with a healthy dash of perfume from the girls on their own Friday night dates.
He produced two tickets from his shirt pocked and smiled. "C'mon, Daph. Let's go grab some munchies."
"You got the tickets already?"
He waggled his eyebrows. "I have friends in high places."
She blinked and followed him through the sparse crowd to the concession stand, and within moments found her arms full of the most monstrous bucket of popcorn she'd ever seen, three packets of Junior Mints and an extra large bag of Raisinets. Jack juggled sodas and tickets and led her out of the foyer and along a passageway.
"You have to go to the men's room?" Daphne couldn't help the question. There was nothing else through here.
"Trust me, babe. I told you. I have friends." He led her to a small door and opened it onto a darkened staircase.
She frowned. "Jack? Where are we going?"
He motioned her inside. "We're going to watch the movie. In style, honey."
Cautiously she followed him up a winding stairway, the carpet frayed with age and the railing dusty. They emerged into a dimly lit hallway, narrow and gloomy, with several doors leading off it. Jack stopped in front of the end one and grinned.
Daphne's heart lurched. She so loved that happy grin of his.
"Here we are, sweetheart."
"And that would be---where?"
He opened the door with a flourish, and Daphne gasped.
\*
The look on Daphne's face was worth the hour or so of phone calls and the deals Jack had made to procure this treat.
Wide-eyed and wondering, she stepped into the box. "Jack! It's one of the old theater boxes." Her voice was a whisper.
It was indeed. He'd promised a visitor's pass to the owner if he could have access to it, and Eddie had been very pleased indeed to accept the chance to watch his favorite porn stars in action---up close and personal as it were.
Eddie had even gone so far as to have the large cushioned seats vacuumed, which was a blessing, since a major portion of this level had been allowed to molder and rot. A sin in Jack's eyes.
"How fabulous." Daphne was smiling in excitement. "I've always known these were here, but never realized they could still be used."
Jack's heart glowed. It was as corny as all hell, but doing something nice for someone made him feel good. Damn good.
He grinned. "Most of them aren't. But I know the owner, and he said it was okay. For us. Tonight." And because I promised him a chance to watch some tootsies get nailed by a couple of guys. From the director's chair.
Jack shook his thoughts away. For tonight he was just Jack, guy out on a date with his best girl. His only girl. God, this was a made-for-TV sponsored-by-a-greeting-card-company moment. He should have been getting nauseous.
He wasn't. He was getting horny.
"Come sit down. Try out these plush seats." He tapped the upholstered bench and coughed as a little cloud of dust rose from it. The vacuuming hadn't been too thorough. "Er...they may be a little grimy still..."
"Doesn't bother me," Daphne smiled. "This is just too cool, Jack. I love it." She settled down and relieved herself of the popcorn and candies. "There's so much room, too."
Jack smiled back. "Not a great view of the screen, mind you. This was really designed for theatergoers, rather than movie patrons. Probably explains why they've fallen into disuse."
"Such a pity. Can't you just imagine seeing a live show from here? It would be fabulous." Daphne's eyes sparkled with excitement. "It's like...like being a bird nesting on the side of a cliff, isn't it?"
"Um. Yeah, I guess. Never thought of it that way." He was fixated on the thrills that chased themselves over her face, her blatant enjoyment of such a simple treat.
He'd forgotten how to have fun.
The thought blindsided him for a moment as he helped Daphne out of her jacket. Plain, simple fun. Taking a girl to the movies and making it special for her. No deals, no bargains, no negotiations, just fun.
Goddamn. He'd forgotten too much in the past few years. Lost touch with the human side of life in his pursuit of his career and his goals.
The lights dimmed and the curtains swirled back from the projection screen. Daphne snuggled next to Jack with an expectant smile on her face and reached for the popcorn. "This is fun."
Uncannily, she'd echoed his thoughts. "It is indeed."
Jack relaxed and let the opening soundtrack roll over him. For once, he was going to be himself, a regular guy. Having a good time with a date on a Friday night. He was going to eat popcorn, drink soda, and maybe grab a quick kiss in the darkness.
He stretched out his legs, enjoying the freedom to move them around and not whack into the seat in front. Some things were worth the price, and this moment would have been worth just about anything.
"Okay." Daphne munched happily. "Casablanca trivia time."
Jack raised an eyebrow and grinned. "Bring it on, babe."
"What was the real name of the movie?"
Jack snorted. "Too easy. The movie was based on a play called 'Everybody Comes to Rick's'."
"Very good." Daphne nodded approvingly. "I'm impressed."
"Here's one for you." Jack thought for a moment. "How did Ingrid Bergman end up playing Ilsa?"
Daphne frowned. "Um...they cast her?"
Jack smirked. "Uh-uh. She was under contract to Selznick. Hal Wallis wanted her for the role, so he had to trade. Know who he traded?"
Daphne shook her head, a fascinated gaze on her face.
"Olivia DeHavilland."
"Don't tell me." Daphne giggled. "Melanie? 'Gone With the Wind'?"
"Same one. But that came out in 1939. 'Casablanca' was released in 1942. Know why they chose the name 'Casablanca'?"
She shook her head.
"Because not long before, in 1938 I think, a very successful movie called 'Algiers' had been released..."
"Oh yes...I've seen that one...Charles Boyer and Hedy Lamarr, right?"
"Very good." Jack raised his eyebrows. "Now I'm impressed. Anyway, Hal Wallis wanted something that would catch people's attention so he picked Casablanca as a good title, and it turns out that the film was released right around the time the darn place was invaded during the war. It was a perfect blend of patriotism, romance, adventure and fortuitous marketing."
"You sound a bit cynical, Jack." Daphne glanced at him as she sipped her soda.
"No, actually I'm not. They couldn't have known where the war was going when they shot the film. And let's face it, that scene where they sing the national anthems of France and Germany still makes people shiver, even today---sixty years later."
The strains of the classic theme song flooded the theater and Daphne settled against him with a sigh of pleasure as the movie got underway.
The story unfolded and swept Jack up into its magic once again, but this time he found himself watching it with new eyes. No longer did he calculate the lighting angles, watch for continuity errors or timing issues.
He simply watched it as a man. Watched the expressions cross Rick's face as he dealt with his customers, good old Louis, and the Frenchwoman who he was about to dump.
"Did you know..." Daphne leaned over and whispered in his ear. "That nobody ever actually says 'play it again, Sam'? It's the most misquoted movie line ever, I read someplace."
Jack turned his face and brushed her lips with his lightly. "Of course I knew that. You're talking to the major movie buff here, babe."
She tasted of popcorn, butter and Daphne, and suddenly the movie faded into unimportance beside the woman he held in his arms. He rubbed his chin against her hair, loving its softness.
She sighed. "Jack...this is so nice. Thank you."
Jack, chuckling over Bogart's great line when questioned as to his nationality... "I'm a drunkard", agreed.
This was nice.
\*
For Daphne, it was more than nice. She'd used the word when what she really wanted to tell him was that it was damn close to her idea of paradise.
Cuddled close to his chest, fingers buttery with popcorn, in a darkened movie theater watching one of the classics...well, darn. It just didn't get much better.
Or so she thought.
Then Jack picked up her hand and casually put it in his mouth, licking the sticky residue off her skin.
The rasp of his tongue up and down her fingers, one at a time, made the breath catch in the back of her throat, and she turned her head slowly, watching him in amazement.
He did it so naturally, without any fuss or bother, like it was something everybody did all the time. Well---here's a newsflash, anchorman! It had never happened to Daphne before. And she liked it. A lot.
She couldn't stop the slight tremble that ran through her as Jack found her little finger and sucked on it, cleaning it thoroughly, running his lips and his tongue over it like it was the tastiest morsel he'd ever enjoyed.
Oh hell.
She fidgeted, feeling a flood of dampness between her legs. She wasn't used to this kind of sensual attention, and the way she responded to it almost scared her.
"Mmm. Hot buttered Daphne." He whispered the words into her ear.
Hot was right. The butter was gone, but the hot Daphne was still here.
"Jack..." she sighed. "Oh Jack."
"You don't like that?"
"No, I do. I mean yes I do. I mean..." She shook her head a little. "You do things that surprise me."
His lips curled up in that adorable grin. "Good."
Rick and Ilsa were busy falling in love in Paris, and Daphne did her best to concentrate on the movie, but failed. Jack was just too much man, too warm, too...everything.
"Pass me the Junior Mints, will you?" Jack squeezed her lightly.
"Okay."
He popped one in his mouth. "C'mere."
The words were mumbled and Daphne blinked. He cupped her head and pulled her face to his.
Ohmigod.
He kissed her, a deep open-mouthed kiss that let her share the chocolate-mint taste melting on his tongue. It was...delicious. Mint crème, dark chocolate---and Jack.
She pulled back, savoring the taste.
"Good, huh?" His eyes gleamed wickedly in the flickering light from the screen.
Voiceless, she nodded.
Jack ate another candy. "Better make sure," he mumbled.
Once again his lips found hers. Ready this time, she eagerly opened her mouth and sought out his tongue, moving hers around and over and squirming to get closer. His arms held her tightly against his chest, and she let her own slide around his neck, angling her face to just the right position.
There. Just there...she could barely breathe but it was...right. Who cared about stupid things like breathing anyway, when someone like Jack was darting his chocolate-minty tongue into her mouth and she was darting her own right back?
Her breasts were beginning to ache from something as simple as a kiss. Although Daphne dimly realized there was nothing simple about Jack's kisses. They were...intense.
He put everything he had into them. His body moved against hers, his hands slid through her hair and around her neck, and he kissed her like there was nothing else in the world he'd rather do right at this moment.
And she wholeheartedly agreed with that sentiment.
Finally, their lips parted, and Daphne sucked in badly needed air, tasting the cool rush of mint as she did so.
"I like mints." Jack gazed at her.
"Me too." She stared back, unable to look away from his face. It was heated, his eyelids heavy and a little pulse thudded at the base of his neck. She knew her own pulse was thudding in a similar rhythm, and obeying some instinct she leaned forward and daringly pressed her lips to the quivering spot just inside his collar.
His response was immediate.
He grasped her and pulled her onto his lap, letting her legs dangle over the padded arm of the seat.
"Jack...what are you...someone will see..."
His chuckle sounded in her ear. "No they won't. Remember where we are. In our own private bird's nest. No one even knows we're up here. As long as we're quiet..."
And he was right. Daphne darted a glance around her and could see nothing of the other theatergoers below them, just the darkened boxes jutting from the opposite wall.
"So we just keep very quiet, right?" He slid his hands to her legs and proceeded to run one palm beneath her skirt to her knee.
She gasped.
"Sshhh."
Right. She had to sshhh when his hand was on her leg and moving upwards. Slowly. So darn slowly it was killing her.
He wriggled her around so that one arm lay behind his neck and the rest of her was available to him. Well hell. Daphne moved her head and astounded herself by nipping his earlobe. Two can play at this game.
Jack groaned.
"Sshhh." Daphne whispered the word with a great deal of satisfaction as she felt a rather nice hardness stir beneath her butt.
But he got his own back by sliding further beneath her skirt and finding...
"Daphne. You shock me. Stockings?" It was a harsh whisper in her ear, accompanied by the feel of his hot palm on her naked thigh.
She'd tried to ignore the promptings of her newly discovered inner slut when dressing for this date with Jack, but the siren's song of that wild lingerie buried in the back of her drawer had been too great. The silk hose had slid up her legs like a kiss, and the garter belt that went with them had made her feel...sensual.
Now she was extraordinarily glad she'd listened to that inner woman. Who was sitting back, grinning, and thinking to herself... "Wait 'til he discovers the matching thong."
Jack swallowed down a moan of pleasure as his fingers found heated skin and lace. For a man who'd spent a good portion of his adult years watching women in miniscule amounts of lingerie, filming women removing that lingerie and then getting themselves solidly fucked, he was astounding himself with his reaction.
His cock was harder than granite, threatening to bust through his fly at any moment, and all because of a sweet, warm armful of innocent librarian.
In sexy underwear.
His hand traveled on and found---oh sweet Jesus---naked buttock. His daring Daphne was wearing a thong.
He closed his eyes, letting his sense of touch tell him what his eyes could not see. He discovered a garter belt, edged with some soft stuff, lace probably, and the elastic garters were locked onto the tops of her stockings. The small thin strip of silk that comprised her thong nestled between her buttocks, and he drove himself quietly insane by slipping his hand between the fabric and her flesh.
She gasped with pleasure as his fingers ran the length of her cleft and found her juices soaking the silk.
"What color?" His voice barely worked and he cleared his throat to try again. "What color is this stuff?"
Daphne licked his jawline, making him shiver. "White."
"Oh yeah..." He kissed her again, more passionately this time, letting his tongue match the movements of his fingers against her pussy. "White is good."
This time it was Daphne's turn to moan, and he hushed her with another kiss.
She moved sinuously against him as he played with her and gently eased the thong away from her body. She reached for his shirt.
"Not this time," he growled. He pulled her hand away from his body. "Touch me and I'm finished. This is for you, babe."
She blinked at him, obviously trying to make sense of his words. "Don't you want..."
"Oh yeah I do. Make no mistake. I want to, real bad." He grabbed her hand and pulled it to his crotch, shifting her off his lap for a few blessed moments and letting her feel his arousal.
Fucking hell. It was bad enough having her ass heating it, but the touch of her hand was even worse. "This will tell you how much I want to."
It would probably tell half a city block if it gets any bigger. Just hang a sign from it. Guy about to lose it in his jeans. Please leave towels at the zipper.
"So why...?" Her question hung in the air between them.
"Because...because I want to make love to you, Daphne. I want to bury this..." He shifted slightly into her hand. "...deep inside your body. Feel you coming around me like there's no tomorrow."
Her fingers tightened around his cock and he clenched his teeth. "But I'm not going to do it here."
"No?"
Goddamn it to hell. She sounded disappointed.
"No. You deserve better." Jack stuck to his guns and wondered how much it would cost him to get his back molars recapped after he cracked them. "You deserve soft sheets, a warm room and at least several hours."
"Oh...if you say so..." The words came out on a sigh.
"I do." And I'm so fucking nuts I should have myself committed. "So right now, you're just going to let me play."
"I am?"
"Yep." Well, his fillings had held out so far. Perhaps dental surgery wouldn't be necessary after all.
"And I suppose you didn't think to bring any protection with you..." Her voice sounded thoughtful.
"Uh...well...I..." Jack's mind flew to the condom in his back pocket. "Just let me play for a while, okay?"
An odd smile crossed her face. "Okay. I like it when you play with me, Jack."
He was going to die. No two ways about it.
She leaned back against him and slipped one arm around his waist, letting her legs fall apart slightly. It was an invitation he couldn't refuse, and he tugged at her thong, freeing it and pulling it slowly down and away from her body.
She wriggled and kicked her way free, as his imagination blinded him with a vision of her pussy framed by her garter belt, stockings...and nothing else.
There were advantages to being in the darkness of a movie theater, Jack realized. He had to rely on other senses to fill his mind, and for once he let his fingers do the walking. Used to relying on his vision for so many things, it was a unique experience for him to "fly blind".
"You feel so good...so soft...and wet..." He whispered the words, knowing they were turning her on. He could feel her moisture slicking over his fingers. "You know what I'd like, Daph?"
"Whaaat?" She choked as he found her swollen clit and softly flicked it.
"Shhh." He grinned, painfully. Christ, this was turning him on as much as it was her.
"I'd like to have my mouth on you right now. Here." He cupped her mound and she gasped, her thighs jerking together.
"What?"
"Oh yeah. I want to taste you, Daph. I want to lick you and eat you and stick my tongue into these soft pussy folds of yours..."
"Jaaaaack..."
"Has anybody ever done that to you, sweetheart?"
She shook her head, and Jack saw wide-eyed wonder in her brown gaze as the lights flickered across her face.
"I think you'd enjoy it, honey. I know I would. There's nothing like it." His hand continued to soothe and stroke and fondle her. She was soaking wet now. He was getting to her but good.
A sharp pain reminded him he was getting to himself too. He shifted his hips slightly to ease the pressure of his fly on the telephone pole that had replaced his cock sometime during the movie.
"I...don't know...it sounds..."
"Like fun? Like heaven? Resting your thighs on my shoulders as I lift your ass in my hands and find this little spot...right here...with my tongue?" He found her clit again and pressed gently next to it, letting her indrawn breath tell him of her delight.
"I'd stroke this with my tongue...fast at first...then slowly...just teasing you, you know?"
"Uhhh..." Daphne was boneless in his arms as he continued his assault on her senses. Her moisture flooded his hands and her breasts were rising and falling rapidly as she panted on his lap.
He leaned forward and lightly sucked one taut nipple into his mouth through the thin cotton of her shirt, feeling the delicate lace of her bra yield to his touch.
And let two fingers slide into her cunt.
"Aaahhh...God...Jaaaack..."
He loved the way she breathed his name. The long, drawn-out "a" that sounded like a woman on the verge of orgasm. He moved his fingers, learning her, feeling the folds of flesh surrounding him, sucking him inside her, begging for his touch.
He lost himself in the pleasure of giving...pleasure.
It was a unique moment of sheer bliss for Jack, and it almost stunned him with its intensity. His body seemed to come alive to each and every little shudder Daphne made. His focus was on her, her breathing, her scent, the softness of the skin between her thighs and the heat of her juices scalding his hand. It was, for one of the few times Jack could remember, all about giving. Freely, without restraint, no questions asked, nothing expected in return. Just giving.
And it was almost unbearably wonderful.
\*
Daphne felt her body opening to accept Jack's touch like the proverbial rosebud opening after a rainstorm.
That she was producing the rainstorm herself didn't go unnoticed, as she could feel her own juices slicking her skin and Jack's fingers. Dear heavens, he could turn her on.
The fact that Rick and Ilsa were negotiating the tricky waters of occupied Casablanca went over her head.
The fact that they were in a darkened movie theater box went unnoticed.
Daphne's world had narrowed down to that extra-sensitive place between her legs, and the myriad of incredible sensations caused by a man's hand right there.
She was torn.
Torn by the urge to scream---which she knew she couldn't---and torn by the urge to do something...anything...to let him know her pleasure.
She reached up to his face and pulled it down to hers, daringly letting her tongue run over his lips.
He groaned and opened his mouth, pressing it into hers and thrusting his tongue deep. He still tasted divine---all chocolate-minty and Jack---and her senses swam as his movements mimicked those of his fingers. The ones he'd buried inside her wet heat.
Oh good Lord above. What the man could do with his hands.
Slowly at first, then more rapidly, Jack learned her body, teasing with light flickers and pressing with just the right amount of force on places Daphne never knew existed. Let alone could send her into orbit when touched just---so.
"Jack...I'm...you're...oh Jaaaack..."
He kissed her again, hard, capturing her moans and swallowing her breaths. She felt lightheaded, dizzy and electrified as her body began tingling all over.
He slipped a hand inside her shirt and cradled her breast, lacy bra and all, gently rubbing his thumb over her hard nipple and making her gasp all over again. The dual assault on her senses was too much to withstand. He was pushing her inexorably over the edge.
And she wanted to fall.
"Let it happen, Daph. I'm here. I'm holding you..." His voice rasped softly in her ear. "I want to feel you come in my arms. Around my hand. To know that I'm doing this to you. Just me. With my touch."
"I..." The words seized in her throat.
"Come for me babe. Here. In the darkness. Let me share it...press your breasts against my hand. Open your legs wide...don't hide it, don't stop it...don't fight it. Come for me. It's okay..."
Well, darn it. How could she refuse a request like that?
His arms tightened around her as her breathing faltered and shivers of arousal trailed over her body. She was there. She was ready.
And she let go.
The music from the screen blared and obliterated her squeak of release as Jack held her snug against him, his mouth plastered to hers, his fingers moving deep inside. She came, rattling herself from her shinbones to her back teeth, and clenching around Jack's touch with a ferocity that amazed her.
She shook and shuddered in his arms, gasping for air and biting back sobs of pleasure. It was a blindingly intense orgasm, and one like Daphne could never have imagined in her wildest dreams.
Until now. Until Jack.
And it went on---and on. Just when she thought it was over, Jack moved a little, stroked another place and sent her ricocheting off into the ether again---and again.
Holy multiple orgasms.
He was making her body do things she'd thought were strictly reserved for the fervid imaginations of sexual counselors, or overheated romance writers. Certainly not relatively down-to-earth librarians.
And he was with her, all the way. She could sense him as she rolled the waves of her climax, breathing with her, holding her tightly, sharing the intensity with her and knowing---somehow---exactly how to prolong the moment and bring her the maximum pleasure.
And that only added to her ecstasy.
Knowing that her every whimper, every little twitch and gasp, was being shared and observed by a man solely focused on her, Daphne, was the most arousing thing of all.
She had no idea that a man could do such a thing. It was...overwhelming in its implications.
The ability to consider those implications vanished as she subsided into a boneless heap of contentment in Jack's arms.
"Oh God."
"Oh Daph..." He sounded---moved.
"Jack...I don't know what to say."
His lips feathered little kisses over her jawline and up to her ear, making her shiver with delight. "Don't say anything. That was amazing, Daph."
She managed a tired giggle. "Easy for you to say. I'd prefer the word 'earth-shattering' myself."
She felt his mouth curve into that grin she loved. "See? I told you date night at the movies could be fun."
He slid his fingers from her body and she sighed at the loss. He'd felt so...so...right with his hand between her legs. Dear God, she'd become a wanton slut. And she loved every minute of it.
"Fun? Jack...this isn't fun. This is..." She sought for words.
None came to mind. She simply reached for his cheek and ran her hand softly over its smooth surface, letting her fingers brush his mouth. "Thank you."
She leaned forward and kissed him gently, letting her lips say all the things that her heart felt and her mind couldn't find the words to express.
His own kiss told her he understood. Little brushes of his skin against hers, light licks of his tongue around her mouth...he petted her with his touch, calmed and soothed her, and sent her into a warm place she never wanted to leave.
It was heaven. Sheer, unadulterated, post-orgasmic bliss.
And Daphne's heart nearly thudded to a halt at the implications.
Oh...crap.
She was falling in love with Jack Foster.
No. Check that statement. She'd gone and done it. She was already in love with Jack Foster.
He confirmed it when the light from the movie screen touched his face and she saw the grin she adored curve his lips. "You know something, Daph?"
She shook her head, happy just to look at him.
"I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship."
His timing was perfect. The final words of "Casablanca" echoed through the theater and into her heart.
Oh hell. She was lost, for sure.
"Please?"
Daphne looked shocked. "But Jack, for goodness sake..."
Jack grinned. "I swear by...by Humphrey Bogart...I've never asked a woman this before. Honest, Daph. Please? Be my first?"
She blushed. Fuck, she blushed like a schoolgirl and Jack loved making those pinks and reds flood her cheeks. "I don't know..."
"Aw, c'mon babe. Is it so much to ask?"
"But Jack. My thong?"
"Yeah. Your thong. I want it."
"But...but why?"
They were gathering their possessions together in the now fully lit theater, and Daphne's blushes were clearly illuminated by the old-fashioned sconces on the walls.
Jack held up the teeny white scrap of lace, and rubbed his cheek against it, letting the scent of her body fill up his nose all over again.
"Jaaaaack..."
"I love the way you say that." He grinned.
She snorted. "Well you keep doing things that...that shock me silly." She flashed him an embarrassed smile. "I'm not complaining, mind you, but honestly Jack...what else do you expect me to say? I'm so out of my depth with you."
"And I'm out of my depth with you too. Maybe that's why I want this." He tucked the lace into his pocket. "It's my anchor. My lifeline. I can look at it, touch it, and think of you. Of where it touched you." He kissed her ear as he helped her slip her jacket on. "And how I took it off you."
"Ja..." She bit back the word on a choke. "You're outrageous."
"Yeah, ain't I though?"
"What am I going to do without them? I have to go outside..."
"Yep."
"But...I..."
"Who's gonna know?"
Daphne considered this. "Well, I..."
"You're wearing a very lovely skirt, sweetheart. I told you already how nice you looked this evening. You look even nicer now, with your hair all mussed, your lips kinda soft and kissable, and a certain...something...making your eyes shine..."
"Damn it Jack, stop saying things like that."
"Why? I mean them. I'd never let you prance through a theater lobby with no underwear if I thought there was even a chance anyone would guess, Daph. No way in hell would I let that happen."
A sudden bolt of emotion rocked Jack at the mere thought of another man looking at Daphne's ass. Uh-uh. No way. It was his. His fingers clenched down onto the lace in his pocket. "I just want you sitting in my car with your naked skin against my leather seat. Do you have any idea what a turn-on that's gonna be for me, honey?"
Wide-eyed, Daphne shook her head. "I have no clue about guys and cars."
He smiled. "Trust me."
She shrugged. "I do."
Those two words went into Jack's brain and quietly destroyed it with all the force of a small thermonuclear detonation.
She trusted him.
Him. Jack Foster. The ordinary guy who'd done nothing more fancy than take his girl out to a movie on a Friday night and engaged in some heavy petting in the darkness. His heart twisted, turned, and shattered into a million pieces, then reassembled itself into something new.
Something Jack wasn't quite sure he understood.
"You scare me, babe," he muttered.
"I do?" She blinked as they clattered down the old rickety stairwell and back into the foyer of the theater. "Why?"
"Dunno." Jack lifted her hand to his lips and brushed a quick kiss across her knuckles. "You just do, that's all."
He led her out to Big Red and shuddered as she slid onto the seat. His thoughts were filled with the notion of her nakedness warming that leather. Fuuuuck. He wondered if he'd get arrested for driving with a flagpole between his legs. He could probably hit the clutch with his cock and shift into third without a hitch.
He bit back a groan and slipped behind the wheel. "So. Where to? Ice cream? It's traditional, isn't it?"
Daphne laughed. "Jack, nothing about you is traditional. For heaven's sake, I'm sitting here with my bare behind on this darn seat...which is an odd sensation, I have to tell you...so I'll leave it all in your hands." She shot him a wicked grin. "Your very capable hands."
This time the groan couldn't be silenced. "God, Daph. You have no idea what that thought is doing to me. I suppose we could find ourselves some ice cream, but I'll be honest. The cream I want right now isn't iced."
"It isn't?"
"Nope. It's hot. And slick. And...and..." He choked back another groan as his cock reminded him that everything had its limits and he was fast approaching his.
Daphne, bless her, was blushing again.
"Shit. I'm going too fast, aren't I?"
She bit her lower lip. "We are going fast, here, Jack, but I have to be honest. I'm not quite sure whose foot is on the gas pedal." She looked at him, warmth in her brown eyes. "You bring out something in me. A...a...wanton woman, if you'll pardon the phrase. You make me feel...things...want things...I don't know. It's hard to put into words because I've never felt like this before. Ever."
He stared back at her, struggling with new thoughts, new emotions, ideas he'd never considered before, and a hard-on that threatened to rupture his spleen.
"Daphne...I...uh...me too."
"You too what?"
Jack sucked in a breath. "I've never felt like this before either."
She raised her eyebrows. "Jack. Come on. I may be naïve, but I have a hard time believing that. You're very obviously...um...experienced. You know your way around women. I would guess that with your good looks---a car like this---well, heck. You must have women falling over themselves to be with you."
Not me. They fall over their tits to be with Big John Johnson. Not me.
He started the ignition and let Big Red idle quietly, while the Toni Braxton CD filled the small car with soft romantic melodies. He found it soothing to his confused brain as he fought to find the right words, for once, not the standard phrases he'd used so many times before.
This was---different. Important.
"Sweetheart, you told me you trusted me."
She nodded. Okay. So far so good.
"I'm asking you to believe me, too. Believe me when I tell you that being with you is like...like nothing I've ever experienced before."
"Haven't dated many librarians, huh?" Daphne attempted to lighten the moment.
He grinned. "Not a one. A defect in my romantic entanglements, I guess. But seriously, Daph..." He took her hand. "Being with you is...unique. There's something about you---about us---when we're together, that makes me feel..."
"Feel what, Jack?"
"Uh..." Fucking A. He was stuttering like a teenage idiot. Think, you asshole. Think! "Makes me feel...happy."
Shit. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
"Really?" Her face lit up.
Okay, maybe not stupid after all.
"Yeah, really. When I'm with you, we seem to be able to have fun, without...without trying." He ran a hand through his hair. "It's hard to explain...there's just something between us that happens, that makes my day brighter. That drives me crazy with wanting to see you again when we're apart and makes me not want to let you go when we're together."
He heard her gulp. "Really?"
"Oh yeah, really. I'm not explaining this very well, I know. It's just that from the first moment I met you in the store, you seemed...fresh. New. Someone who came from a different place, and who found a new place in me that had been empty up until then...and I never knew it. And now it's filled. And it feels...right..."
She opened her mouth to speak, but he held up his hand. "Let me finish here, honey. I can't tell you I've lived like a monk, because I haven't. I've dated. A lot, in fact, and you're right. The car, the body...hell, I'm a guy. We use what we have, you know?"
She nodded, eyes wide, hand firmly clasping his.
"And yeah, I know my way around women." And wasn't that an understatement. He could probably pass a preliminary exam and qualify for a gynecological residency on the strength of his films alone. "But with you...it's all different. All new. I feel things, like you said...that I can't understand, let alone explain. Things that make me crazy. That make me want your underwear." He rolled his eyes. "I swear to God I've never asked another woman to give me her panties in my entire life."
She smiled at him and squeezed his hand. "Oh Jack..."
"But it's not just the...physical attraction thing, Daph, although that's hotter than I ever could have imagined. It's more. It's...special. You're special."
Her eyes filled with tears, glittering in the soft light of the dashboard. "Thank you, Jack. I don't think you could have said anything that would mean more to me. And you're right." She reached out her hand and rested it against his cheek. "It is special."
She leaned over and kissed him lightly. "And I believe you."
He reached for her...
And the cell phone rang.
\*
Daphne didn't know whether to be glad or sorry for the interruption. The phone chimes jerked her attention away from Jack with a wrench, and she did her best to swallow her heart back down into her chest where it belonged.
It had risen to her throat as she'd listened to him talk about the two of them. He'd used words that any woman would have given her eyebrows to hear. And yet...somehow, she didn't think he'd have said any of it if he hadn't meant it.
She sighed. She had no idea if she could trust her gut instincts or was just in the middle of a pheromone-induced stupor.
Jack, meanwhile, was barking into the phone. "Well, Christ above, Chuck. What the hell happened?"
A male voice grumbled back out of the small unit.
"Can't you fix it yourself?"
His face had hardened somewhat, and Daphne watched as the man she was dating turned from loving escort into single-minded businessman.
"I don't care. We have to do what it takes." He frowned. "I'm as aware of that deadline as you are. Yeah, I'll hold..."
He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel and waited, glancing over at her with a shrug.
"Problems at the store?" She raised her eyebrows.
"Uh...kind of. Sorry..."
She shook her head at him. "Don't be silly." She shifted slightly, unsticking one butt cheek from the seat. This going panty-less was all well and good in the heat of the moment, but once the heat subsided, there were other---less pleasant---issues to be dealt with. Like the imprint of fine Corinthian leather which was probably going to be branded into her skin for about a week.
She fidgeted.
"Look." Jack glanced at his watch. "I can be there in twenty. Don't do anything else, okay?" He snapped the phone shut on a grunt of frustration.
"Trouble, huh?"
Jack's face was a study in conflict as he turned his head towards her. His green eyes softened as he looked into hers. "Baby, I'm so sorry. Truly. You have no idea how sorry I am."
Daphne couldn't resist. She glanced down at the hard ridge distorting his fly. "Well, actually, that is an incorrect statement."
He grinned. It was taut, but it was a grin. "Daphne, you're going to be the death of me. Yeah, I'm so turned on right now, that I could whisk you into the backseat---if I had one---and spend the rest of the night making us both scream. And not for ice cream, either."
She laughed, easing the tension a little. "I understand. Really, Jack, I do understand. You have obligations. Life goes on, regardless of what's happening between us. That's the way it is."
"God, babe, I..." Jack seemed at a loss for words. He sighed. "I have to go fix this. I'll drop you home first, okay?"
"Of course." Daphne settled back and fastened her seat belt. "In some ways, it's probably a good thing. You take my breath away, Jack, in more ways than one. I could use a little time right now to...sort of get used to the idea. Do you understand?"
He smiled as the car rolled smoothly out of the lot onto the street. "Yeah. But I like the 'take my breath away' bit."
"Well, heck. You don't hear me complaining, do you?"
"Would you?" He shot a quick glance at her before returning his attention to the road.
Hmm. Interesting question. Daphne considered it. "You know, I think I would. With you, I would. But...and it's a huge 'but'...I can't imagine anything to complain about. Not between us. You've opened a new world for me, Jack. One I'd read about in novels, or seen in movies, but couldn't begin to think of being in myself. And yet here I am..." She squirmed slightly. "Sitting bare-bottomed in your car, and not shrieking in horror. I even gave you my thong."
He laughed. "Yes, you did."
"Um...you don't have a wall of those hidden away someplace, do you? Or an album or something?"
"Daph." He frowned at her. "I meant it when I said you were the first---the only---woman I've ever asked for her lingerie. Please believe me on that."
"Okay." She sighed in contentment as they pulled up in front of her apartment.
"I'm sorry our night has to end like this, babe."
"Hey...I had a great time. The Wildwood, Casablanca and...and you. And chocolate mints, too."
Jack chuckled. "Look, let me make it up to you. You free tomorrow? It's Saturday. Let me plan a special treat for us, okay? Something that may even help in your research."
She tipped her head sideways and frowned at him. "My research?"
"Mmm hmm." He narrowed his eyes. "This is my 'man of mystery' look."
She giggled. "Good thing you explained it. I thought it might be indigestion."
He snorted indignantly. "Well, hell, babe. Guess I'll have to ditch that expression. So what do you say? Tomorrow?"
As if she'd say no.
"When and where?" Daphne was long past the point of obeying any of the "rules of dating". No "I don't know, Jack..." or "Well, I did have plans, but I guess I can change them..." None of that stuff.
She wanted to be with Jack. And that, quite simply, was that.
Jack seethed as he flashed his pass at the night guard covering the studio gate. Of all the times for a problem with the audio they'd recorded during the week to screw up...this had to be the worst.
He should be up to his neck in Daphne right now, not issues of some ill-defined buzz spoiling the soundtrack of his just completed movie.
He pulled into his designated spot and killed the engine, muttering imprecations against the gods of AV equipment.
"Jack. Sorry, dude. Just caught it."
Chuck's apologetic voice greeted him as he strode into the sound studio. A phalanx of monitors flickered a welcome at him, which he ignored. "What the fuck is it?"
Chuck shook his head. "Near as I can figure out, it's either some chopper noise from overhead or an odd echo of the biker movie they're filming over on Lot 14. I swear, Jack, we had it all blocked. It never came through our earpieces. Not one little murmur."
He twisted dials and hit buttons, and a crackling sound heralded the last bit of soundtrack recorded at the end of the movie.
Sure enough, there was a hum...a distinctly noticeable hum, and there wasn't one fricking thing anyone could have done about it at the time.
Jack sighed and pulled out a chair. "Okay. Let's pull it up on the editing software and see what the hell we've got here."
For the next three hours, the two men worked side-by-side, isolating various portions of the soundtrack, accentuating some, deadening others, and finally producing a mostly clean audio.
"God fucking damn, Jack, you're good."
Jack sat back and sighed. "Good and pissed. I had a date, for chrissake."
Chuck glanced down. "So I noticed."
Jack followed his gaze to where a slip of white lace protruded from his pocket. He quickly stuffed it back out of sight. "Yeah. Well."
Chuck laughed. "So was it Donna with the beautiful tits? Or Maxine...you know, the one who comes for hours and shudders like a force five earthquake?"
"Neither."
Chuck blinked. "Really? Oh...wait. I'll bet it was one of those newbie wannabes, right? The tall redhead? She looked damn hot at the auditions last week. And she sure knew who to play to, as well."
"No."
Silence fell for a moment as Chuck stared at Jack. "Whoa, dude. Wait up a minute here. You're dating a fucking civilian? You? Big John Johnson's boffing a freakin' civvy?"
Jack swallowed. "So what? None of your business who I date, Chuck. Let's get that straight right now."
Chuck held up his hands. "Sorry, dude. You're right. Just sort of a surprise, that's all. Of course, it means more pussy for the rest of us. I ain't complaining."
Jack stared at Chuck, feeling an odd kind of emotion welling up behind his eyes. "I'm also sincerely hoping you ain't talking, either, dude."
Chuck gulped.
"Because my private life is just that. Private. Capische?"
Chuck nodded. "I gotcha, Boss. Nothing to do with me. I guess working around all this...shit..." He glanced over at the writhing bodies now silently fucking on the nearest monitor. "Kinda makes a man forget there are real women out there."
"Yeah. Well, I happen to have found one. Let's leave it at that, okay?"
"You got it."
Jack couldn't help noticing the grin on his friend's face. Well, fuck.
"Chuck, I'm closing the set tomorrow."
"Huh?"
"You heard me. I'm closing the set tomorrow. Day off for everyone. No tweaking the special effects, no re-recording, we're on target, film's in the can, and the rest of the post-production stuff shouldn't take more than a week. We've all earned a break. Pass the word in the morning, would you?"
Chuck eyed him cautiously. "Uh, sure. This is a pleasant surprise."
"It just came to me." You lying sack of shit. You've been planning this for a couple of hours now. Ever since you decided that Daphne might enjoy seeing the inside of the studio.
"What about Sunday?"
Jack glanced over. "What about it?"
"You shut the set down tomorrow and a lot of folks are gonna take that as a blanket invitation to disappear for the weekend."
Jack ran his hands through his hair. "You mean go get truly blitzed and not surface until Monday morning?"
"If then." Chuck grinned.
"Sure. What the hell. We all need a break. We've been pushing ourselves to get this one in on time, meet those fucking exec deadlines. We've damn near done it." He sighed. "Okay. I'm officially declaring this weekend a holiday. No personnel need report until Monday, but they'd better show up at some point during the day. We need to finish off the post-prod stuff. I'll be glad when this is done."
"You sound...tired, Jack."
He stood and stretched his spine. "I am, Chuck. Very tired. Of everything."
Chuck's eyes narrowed. "That's a pretty profound comment."
Jack snorted. "Chalk it up to the late night Friday blues, okay? I'm outta here." He grabbed his jacket and waved a casual farewell to the engineer.
Chuck watched him leave.
Jack Foster had been damned good to him, and Chuck had known him for years. They'd met as interns, gotten drunk together, gotten laid together, and Chuck realized this was the very first time he'd ever heard the word "tired" come out of Jack's mouth.
He began to close down the equipment, shutting off the software, setting up the lab for the new workweek, and doing tasks he could have done with his eyes closed. And, in fact, sometimes had. All the while his mind turned over what Jack had said.
And most especially how he'd said it.
In Chuck's experience, Big John Johnson had never been tired. He'd been filled with enthusiasm for his art, involved himself in the films with a passion that had led them all into money and glory, albeit within the field of porn. He'd won awards for all of them and shared the credit unstintingly. His staff liked him a lot, and recognized his talents for what they were. They'd all ridden his coattails for the last few years, and it had been one hell of a ride.
But Chuck wondered now if Big John and Jack might well be heading for a parting of the ways. If Big John the moviemaker would always be there, but perhaps Jack Foster was a man who had reached his limits.
And perhaps if the owner of that little scrap of lacy lingerie might have something to do with it.
He grinned to himself. Jack was a helluva guy with a seriously perverted sense of humor that had resulted in some classic pranks over the years. Perhaps it was time for a little payback. If Jack was doing some serious thinking about his future, Chuck might not get another chance, and he still owed him for the business with the transvestite hooker and the goat.
He knew very well what "close the set" meant. It meant Jack was bringing a special guest over to show her around and impress her. Probably Miss Scrap-of-White-Lace. It had been Chuck's experience that outsiders were always seriously impressed and turned-on at the thought of seeing the inside of a porn studio.
They'd all done it at one time or another---it was sort of an unspoken perk. Hell, bankers probably showed off their vaults, and he'd bet his last dime that retail store stockrooms had probably seen plenty of action too. Guys used what they could. They were guys.
With a laugh tickling his throat, Chuck decided to help his buddy along a little. The harem set was still in place, and he quickly tossed in some extra pillows, a few lengths of exotically colored silk, and some flavored massage oil. The good stuff.
They were all props that had been used recently, and Chuck doubted Jack would notice they'd been rearranged a little. He made sure the sound system was clean, the lights set up just right, and the large screen positioned so that whoever was on the huge bed could see the image filmed by camera one. It was a big help to the actors and actresses, not only helping them get their positioning just right, but also turning them on.
Not that it required much, of course. Most of them loved their work.
Nodding, Chuck looked at the scene---an odd blend of Middle Eastern decadence and state-of-the-art video technology.
Then he went back to the control room and flicked one small switch.
In the ornamental frame of the bed, a small red light flickered to life, all but invisible within the heavily carved decorations and jewels of the Sultan's bower. As was the motion-activated high-powered lens beneath.
Chuck left the building satisfied. He'd give Jack a memento of whatever was going to happen tomorrow. It would be his parting gift.
Because deep inside, Chuck knew that this was probably Big John Johnson's last film. In an odd, bittersweet way, Chuck envied him.
He shrugged off the feeling and headed out for a beer.
\*
Daphne dithered all Saturday afternoon.
Standing in front of her closet, she stared at the array of conservative clothing, and wished for once she'd actually been brave enough to buy something---sexy.
She'd showered, shampooed, conditioned and shaved herself darn near raw. She'd done all those pre-date things the magazines said were essential to a good time, and it had been rather exhausting.
But nothing was worse than standing and looking at a rack of outfits that could all have easily been classed under one word. "Neutrals".
They were...practical. They matched. They coordinated and fit into the lifestyle of a sober-minded librarian. Most of them were washable. And not one of them looked in the least bit seductive.
In spite of herself, Daphne blushed.
Yes, she wanted to look seductive tonight. To go out on Jack's arm and not look like his pity date for the millennium. Not that he'd ever made her feel that way. Au contraire. He made her feel like...like the most sexual woman, the most desirable woman...okay, Daphne, get real.
He makes me feel like a wanton sex goddess and I love every second of it.
And tonight was going to be for him. Or them. Hopefully both. Now if only she had something in her wardrobe suitable for a wanton sex goddess, rather than an efficient librarian, she'd be all set.
One of the biggest problems was that she had no idea where they were going. He'd gone all mysterious on her, teased her with a promise of help for her research, and kissed her goodnight. Her toes curled at the memory.
She shook her head at herself and reached for her classic shirtwaist...suppressing the thought that it might not be the most flattering color in the world, but at least it was easy to get out of.
Daphne, you're a slut.
She made herself a cup of tea and grinned, and the grin was still firmly in place when she slipped into Jack's Corvette that night.
"You look lovely."
"Thank you." She smoothed her skirt. "I wasn't quite sure what to wear, since you wouldn't tell me where we're going?"
He snickered. "Nice try, honey. But if I had, it wouldn't be a surprise, now, would it?"
She tried to frown at him, and failed. How could she frown at someone who looked so damn---yummy? His hair was soft and silky and just brushing the collar of his pale green shirt. He had no tie, and his khaki pants were pressed and smooth. But one look into those green eyes, and he could have been wearing year-old flour sacks for all she cared.
"Good point." She let her eyes feast on the delectable picture he presented. "It's probably inappropriate, but may I say that you look very nice too?" Actually, you look like my every dream come true.
Oh heck. This man was big trouble. Her heart thudded as he grinned at her and thanked her, a little awkwardly. And that was funny, too, since she couldn't imagine a man like him not being used to receiving compliments.
She had no idea where this relationship was going, and at this moment she didn't care. She was in his car, by his side, and he was smiling at her.
Life was perfect.
It might not hold a picket fence, two-point-three kids and a dog, but what the hell. For right now, it was perfect.
She was with the man she loved.
Who apparently enjoyed seafood. "You're not allergic to shrimp or anything are you?"
He glanced over at her as they pulled in to a parking lot next to a small restaurant.
"Nope. No food allergies."
Jack blew out a gust of air. "Thank God. I should've checked first, but this place does things with shrimp that probably violate some of the state laws against extreme pleasure... I thought you might enjoy it."
She smiled as he helped her from the car. "Are there any?"
He tilted his head in query.
"Laws against extreme pleasure."
"For us? No."
And there it was again. That shiver of sensual awareness making her nipples tighten beneath her bra, her mouth salivate at the thought of him, not the shrimp, and the certain knowledge that this man was something extra-special in her life.
She clamped her thighs together against the dampness she could feel beginning to bloom inside her thong.
As if reading her mind, Jack's hand slipped down to rest just above her bottom, the heat of his palm seeping quickly through the thin silk of her dress. "What color is it tonight?"
She blushed. "Peach." She knew exactly what he was asking.
"Mmm. Dessert."
"Jaaaack..." She couldn't help it, even though she laughed as he hugged her and led her to their table.
Dinner was a delight, the food excellent, and Daphne couldn't recall a thing she ate. All she could see was Jack, green eyes alight with humor, smiling at her over the dinnerware. She drank three glasses of the best white wine she'd ever tasted, and the world was perfect.
Finally he leaned back with a contented sigh. "You want to check out the dessert cart?"
"Oh lord no. I'm fine. This was..." She waved her hand over the litter of shrimp exoskeletons. "Awesome. Which is why this table looks like something from my high school biology class. And the wine was just...mmm."
He grinned. "Thought you'd like it."
She stared at him. "You're an awful tease, Jack Foster. I've been sitting here like a good little dinner date, making polite conversation, dissecting my shrimp, and all the while you know darn well I'm very curious about where you're taking me tonight."
"Really?"
"Jack. The suspense, as they say, is killing me."
"Well, we can't have that. I want you very much alive." He stood and held his hand out to her. "C'mon then, Miss Curiosity."
She put her hand in his, loving the warmth and strength of his fingers as he tugged her to her feet. Within moments, he'd slipped some bills under their check and they were off to the Corvette and...where?
She giggled with anticipation. "This top secret thing...should I be blindfolded or something?"
He choked. "Um...maybe later."
"Uh...I didn't mean...oh good grief." Daphne blushed bright pink.
Jack's roar of laughter followed the car as they sped into the darkness.
Jack knew driving through the gates of the studio complex would be the riskiest part of this whole surprise. His Corvette was very recognizable---probably its only drawback, but he was trusting to luck that the night guard would be in his usual position. Thumbs wrapped around his handheld gaming unit, and mini surround sound speakers plugged into his ears.
His luck held. With no more than a cursory nod, the guard waved Jack through and Daphne's eyes widened as he pulled up to a low building.
"Jack...this is a movie studio."
"Not just any studio, honey." He leaned closer. "A porn movie studio."
She gasped. "Really?"
He couldn't help grinning at her expression, which held an equal mix of fascination and horror. "Yeah really. I thought you might like a look inside. It's empty...nothing's going on right now, but...I have a friend...he set this up for me. It's all ours. You can prowl around to your heart's content."
Which was, in essence, the truth. Big John Johnson was his friend. Although right now, he seemed like a very distant acquaintance, because the more Jack was around Daphne, the less interested in Big John he became.
At some point he knew he was going to have to sit down, probably with a bottle of Scotch, and figure out why this was. But not right now. Not when Daphne was staring around her in awe, and blinking as he led her down a dark hallway and onto the set.
He flicked two switches and a soft pink light lifted the darkness.
"Oh my gosh..." Daphne's head swiveled around as she tried to take it all in at once. "Look...oh my." Her eyes had lifted to the ceiling and she craned her neck at the jumbled assortment of lights suspended from the black surface. "All those chrome things...and the black ceiling tiles. Why is it black?"
"Stops any ambient reflections. These cameras can be unforgiving, and lighting is a very important part of any film. The wrong reflection at the wrong time and...well...you'll see the leading lady's acne scars instead of her porcelain complexion."
"And this..." She paused next to a tripod. "This is an actual camera?"
"Yep."
"It's smaller than I thought it'd be."
"Digital, babe. The big boys still use the heavy equipment, but nowadays smaller places like this one go digital all the way. Records directly onto a hard drive, with the option of a videotape as well. Makes the rest of the process much easier."
He heard Daphne gulp as she realized what she was looking at. "Good grief." She glanced at Jack. "This is the biggest bed I've ever seen." She gingerly touched the gold quilt with a finger.
He grinned. "Well...given the subject material, a regular queen size wouldn't really cut it, would it?"
"I suppose not." She pulled her finger quickly back.
"Don't worry. It's clean. I...I'm told this studio has a reputation for taking care of stuff like that. They buy props by the dozen and strip them after each day's filming. That way by the time they're used up the first set's been dry-cleaned and is good to go."
"Ah."
She moved away from the bed and glanced at the walls leading from the studio to another area. They were prominently displaying the current crop of stars. In an assortment of poses that hadn't made it to the posters.
Daphne cleared her throat as she stared at one particularly well-endowed blonde.
Jack came up behind her and slid his arms around her waist. "What do you think?"
"That they're probably not the ones she was born with."
Jack chuckled and squeezed her. "You're right. Just about all these folks have been surgically enhanced." He dropped a light kiss on her head. "And for the record..." His hands moved upwards and brushed the curve of her breasts. "I like the real ones much better."
"Jack?" There was a question in her voice.
"What, honey?"
"Why do people watch this stuff?"
"Why?" He blinked.
"Yes. Why. It's a multi-million dollar industry. This..." She waved her hand around the set. "This is obviously an expensive set-up. So the money's there. But I haven't been able to figure out why."
Jack thought for a moment. "That's a helluva question, babe. And I don't think there's any kind of simple answer."
"It's okay. Really. Just something I've wondered about." She blushed. "Especially recently."
"You mean since we met?"
"Well, yes. We did sort of meet in the middle of a field of...of...adult entertainment stuff, didn't we?"
"Yeah."
"So that, along with all my other research...it sort of got me thinking."
"Well, that's good." Jack tugged her away from the wall and back to the bed. "Let me see if I can show you something. Sit here."
He pushed her down onto the edge of the bed and folded her hands across her lap. "Now, look up there and tell me what you see."
He touched the small power switch to camera one and the huge plasma screen flickered to life.
Daphne gasped. "Good lord." She raised a hand to cover her mouth. "That's me."
"Yep. That's you. As the world sees you. An attractive, intelligent woman."
"Thank you." Daphne looked uncertain.
"Now. I want you to unbutton your dress. Slowly."
"What?"
"You heard me. Look, I'll make it easier." With fingers that seemed unusually stiff, Jack unbuttoned his own shirt and shrugged out of it. "Now. I'm your director. You're my star. Take off your dress, slowly and carefully."
"Jack, I..."
"We're alone, sweetheart. We both know we're going to end up naked together tonight, one way or the other, because there's simply no way I can keep my hands off you. I want you, Daph. And perhaps I can answer your question along the way." He tipped his head. "And you want me too, don't you?" Please God let her say the right thing.
She met his gaze steadily. "Yes."
He felt the smile curve his mouth. The world had just settled into a new and better place. His woman wanted him. "So...Miss Movie Star. Start undressing."
She lowered her head and fumbled with her buttons, stopping at the third one. "What's my motivation?"
To prevent your date's cock from exploding? "What?"
She chuckled. "Aren't I supposed to have some sort of reason for doing this?"
Jack closed his eyes for a second. "Yep. Gimme a minute here." She was going to kill him with her sensuality and not even understand why he was lying dead on the floor.
"Uh...you're a temptress. A seductress."
She snorted.
"No, go with me here, babe. You're going to seduce your man tonight." Like it would take more than a goddamned sneeze. His pants were already strangling him. "You're going to slowly take your dress off, just letting him get a glimpse of those peach undies."
Daphne giggled. "Okay. Silly, but okay. Wouldn't he prefer to do it for me?"
"Daphne. Stars don't argue with their directors." And may God forgive me for that whopper.
"Yes Jack." She slipped the last buttons free and let the dress drop over her shoulders, allowing him a teasingly slow look at the peach lace that barely covered her breasts. "But I still think..."
"Don't think, honey. Just look." He nodded at the screen. "What do you see now?"
He saw her throat move as she gulped. "Um...me with only half my clothes on."
"Uh-uh. Wrong. You see a woman getting ready for her man. Getting ready to love her man. Her cheeks are flushed, and her nipples are hardening...there...see?"
The blush deepened.
"It's a turn-on, Daph. That look, that knowledge that's inside you is coming across on the screen." And with a little shock, Jack realized that he'd spoken nothing but the truth. The camera loved her.
"Look, let's try something. Give me your dress." Impatiently he grabbed it and tossed it away. "Here." Reaching for one of the long brightly colored pieces of fabric, he draped her body in a blazing meld of maroon and gold. "Now lay back against the pillows."
Obediently, she did as she was told. Which was a good thing, Jack reminded his cock. You're a masochist, his cock reminded him back. "Wait...take your bra off."
"I...uh..." She sighed and struggled to hold the fabric across her breasts as she slipped her arms free. "Okay. Done." The flimsy piece of peach lace dropped to the floor.
"Now." Jack leaned over her and arranged the fabric, letting it drape over one breast and reveal the other. He bent one leg at the knee and parted her legs a little. You are one seriously sick individual. He ignored the pain his balls were blinding him with, and dropped a light kiss on her nipple. Then backed away.
"Now look and tell me what you see."
"Oh dear God."
\*
Daphne looked.
There, on a screen that could easily have doubled as a jumbotron at a sporting event, was her. Almost naked, swathed in the richest and most gorgeous stuff she'd ever seen, and with her legs parted wantonly. Sprawling against golden pillows.
"Is that me?"
"Oh yeah." Jack's voice was rough. "That's you. The you I see every time I look at you. The you I want so bad my teeth are aching."
She glanced at him and noticed the tension trembling around him like an aura. Her pussy flooded, the darkened silk showing clearly on the screen. "Then what are you waiting for?"
The old Daphne would have blushed. Or come up with some appropriately worded phrase.
The new Daphne just wanted Jack. Inside her, over her, under her, she didn't care. She craved his touch, his body and that very nice bit of him that was threatening to separate the teeth on his zipper any second now.
"Not yet."
Daphne wondered if a scream of frustration was appropriate for a newly hatched wanton sex goddess. Probably not. She bit down on it and simply moved her shoulder, letting the fabric reveal even more of her breast.
Holy heck. Where was this coming from?
"There's something missing."
The words shocked her and she glanced over at Jack. "What?"
"Me."
He shucked off the remainder of his clothes and neared the bed, aroused and so...so male. Her thighs ached just looking at him.
"Sit up and scoot down a bit, will you?"
She struggled with the fabric and his instructions and tried to ignore his cock. Yeah right. Like she could do that when he clambered onto the bed and settled himself behind her. It dug into the base of her spine and she nearly gasped at the heat she felt against her skin.
"Now lie back against me."
Daphne obliged, willingly. She was between his legs, a delicious hardness pressing itself between the cheeks of her backside and the warmth of his body spreading up her flesh like floodwaters over a parched desert.
"Now look."
Once again she stared at the screen. Two bodies filled it, one creamy pale and swathed in fabric. The other half hidden, but darker, more muscled and surrounding her with his presence.
She wished she had the ability to capture the moment. To save this one intimate glimpse of a couple in this position. It was sensual, erotic, and nothing like she could ever have imagined in her wildest fantasies.
But Jack wasn't finished with her. "Hmm. Nearly there. There's still something...ah. Got it."
What he'd got was the waistband of her thong. He eased it down over her hips. "I love peach, but it's hiding the dessert."
Daphne could feel the blush starting in her cheeks and didn't need a camera to tell her that she was going to be as red as the silk if he kept this up. "I...uh..."
"Sshh. Me director, you star. Remember?"
Daphne choked back a giggle as he slid the tiny scrap of lace beneath her bottom and helped her free herself.
"Ahh. Better."
She glanced up, got a full frontal view of her own pussy and immediately snapped her thighs shut.
"Nope. Not allowed."
"Good lord, Jack. This is...this is...exhibitionism." Victorian modesty warred with sensual curiosity within Daphne's head, making her dizzy. Or maybe it was the wine.
Whatever it was, she didn't struggle when Jack took the decision away from her by sliding his legs beneath hers, raising his knees and pulling her thighs apart. They hooked comfortably over his hard muscles.
"Yeah. That's it." He gently placed one hand on her belly and moved it upwards to her exposed breast. He cupped it, squeezing her nipple carefully and rolling it between his thumb and forefinger.
Daphne swallowed a squawk of delight.
"Now look."
Jack's senses swam as he watched Daphne raise her head and stare at their images on the screen.
She lay against him, skin pearlescent beneath the flaming swath of silk which shimmered with colors he'd known would suit her. He felt the warmth of her body sucking the air from his lungs as his legs sensed the tension in hers.
He held her snugly, letting her become accustomed to sitting like this, thighs splayed over his, her pussy shining and pink on the screen. He refused to let her move, although his vision blurred for a moment as his mind went into sensory overload and his cock whimpered and begged for mercy. Or to be allowed to just pop around the front and dive into that lovely swollen place that was already weeping in readiness.
"Daph..." He let his tongue ring her ear and felt her nipple harden even more. "Do you like to touch yourself?"
"Huh?" She was lost in what she was seeing, hypnotized by the sight of them so wantonly sprawled against the mammoth headboard.
"You know...touch yourself. Give yourself pleasure. Masturbate. Do you like it, Daph?"
He felt her skin heat and didn't need the camera to tell him she was coloring up even more.
Her ribs moved as she heaved in a gulp of air. "What kind of question is that?"
"A very simple one. I know you can do it---you did when we were on the phone, remember? I'm just asking if you like it. Yes or no?"
Her head dipped forward and he took advantage, lightly nipping her nape and then licking the spot gently with his tongue.
"I...I don't know how to answer that..."
"How about honestly?"
Her hair hid her face, but he knew she was thinking...he could imagine the look in her brown eyes as she considered her next words.
"Sort of."
He grinned. Always the cautious, noncommittal response. Christ above, he was crazy about this woman.
"Do you like to touch your breasts?"
She gulped. "Dear God, Jack..."
"Do you?" He rubbed one taut nipple and teased it with a fingernail.
She moaned. "Yes. Oh Jesus..."
Her ass squirmed against him, with quite arousing results on his cock, which was gathering an army and threatening to overthrow his brain. He clamped down on his own desires for the time being. He was determined to open up that educated librarian and free the wild woman he knew lurked just beneath the surface.
He let his free hand tug gently at the silk, baring both her breasts, then reached for her hand and brought it---with his---to her other breast. "Show me."
She jerked her head up and only his quick reflexes prevented an unscheduled nose job. But it was close. He mentally kicked himself and told himself to focus, not get lost in her. Not yet.
"No...I...I can't..."
"Yes you can." Slowly he moved their cupped hands, letting her own fingers find the hardened nipple, and holding her palm against it. "Do you move your hand in circles...like this?" He began to rotate their combined grip against her. "Or do you use your fingers? Do you pull, perhaps, or pinch a little? Tell me Daph. Show me. Let me know what you like..."
"I...I...like it when you do it, Jack," she whispered.
"And I do, too, baby. But watching you turns me on, and helps me learn how to give you pleasure. Even more pleasure." He kept his voice low and soft, encouraging her to continue the movements against her breast as he slowly withdrew his hand.
With difficulty he dragged his gaze from her body and looked at the screen on the wall. Bare to the waist, she was beautiful. With one of his hands on one breast and her own on the other, legs parted wide and a strip of silk slicking across her belly, she was a sensual feast.
"You are fucking incredible," he murmured. And meant every word.
He wanted her so badly he was ready to explode, but a voice in his brain was telling him she could go further...higher...if only he could find the way to guide her. Fucking her now would be fantastic but there would be even greater rewards if he could hold on for a little longer.
"Show me what else you like, babe..." he growled. Shit.. He cleared his throat and tried again. "You're turning me on. Keep going...don't hold back, honey. Make me crazy."
"I'm making you crazy?" He saw her expression change a little on the screen as she considered his words.
"You have no idea what you're doing to me, do you?"
She shook her head. "I'm not even touching you, Jack."
"You don't have to. Watching you like this...seeing your hands on your body...it's just...God, Daph. Do it. Please. Do it. Drive me out of my mind."
He lifted her hand away from her breast and lowered it into her lap. With one tug he freed her body from the silk and let it fall.
"I..."
"Please..."
\*
Daphne stared as Jack's urgent plea sounded in her ear.
He was asking her to shed inhibitions, to bare herself before him in more ways than one, although God knew how she could get more bare than she was right at this moment.
Her...her pussy was on display, her breasts were being fondled, and she was cradled in this revealing position by a totally naked man with a very healthy erection driving a hole into her spine.
She was also wet, hot, extremely aroused, and hugely embarrassed, all at once. She wanted desperately to please him, to do what he wanted her to do. She fought an inner battle, and as if he knew the conflicts within her, he simply held her and waited.
His body was hot and hard behind her, his eyes gleaming green at her from the screen opposite. She could feel the rapid beat of his heart against her back and the warmth of his breath as he whispered his exciting commands softly into her ear.
God damn it, this was...unimaginable. Erotic shivering chills chased themselves over Daphne's body and her mind, and in the blink of an eye she realized she was going to let go.
She was going to seize this moment, to give Jack what he wanted and learn about herself in the bargain. To experience something totally new, totally unforeseen, and completely stunning. It might be her only chance ever to do it, and she wanted a memory, at least, of a short time when she'd been wild and wicked and lost in a man's arms.
And lurking beneath all the lightning rationalization was the sure knowledge that she'd fallen head over heels in love with this man. She trusted him. That simple truth allowed her to drop her hand between her legs, and lean her head back into Jack's body.
She felt his indrawn breath as she let her fingers seek out the swollen lips of her pussy, and begin to stroke the shining wetness she found there.
"Oh yeah, sweetheart...do it for me..."
His gentle encouragement urged her on, past her own limits and into a sensual world where her own touch turned her on, and sent shimmers of arousal quivering through her muscles.
She let her body relax into the feeling, and continued her pressure, gentle at one moment and stronger the next. She could smell herself now, the scent distinct yet familiar. A breath caught in her throat as she brushed across her clit and felt the swollen bud zap her body with a bolt of pure sensation.
Behind her, Jack moaned.
A slight sound, but enough to thrill Daphne beyond words. She was really, really doing it.
Her eyelids drifted closed as she surrendered to the pleasure of her actions, but Jack would have none of it.
"Open your eyes, baby. Watch. It's so beautiful...watch, Daphne...see what I see..." His teeth grazed her shoulder as he nipped her skin gently.
The little pain heightened her awareness of him---of herself, and daringly she did as she was told, peeping out from beneath her eyelashes at the couple on the screen.
Surprisingly, it wasn't the sight of her own hand between her legs that took her breath away.
It was Jack.
His face was flushed, his eyes dark with an expression of need that nearly stopped her heart. Tousled hair fell free, his gaze was focused on her body and his lips were parted...as she watched him watching her, he slid his tongue from his mouth and just touched her neck with it, a passing caress that burned her like a brand.
"Oh yeah..." The words were barely more than a stifled groan.
Daphne responded. Daringly she slipped a finger between her swollen pussy lips and into the hot slick shadows.
Unbidden, her hips lifted slightly at the welcome intrusion, and Jack gasped.
"Daph...please...Daph..."
His hands grabbed her arms and in the blink of an eye she'd been turned around to face him, and he'd squirmed down beneath her. He was reaching for a condom and she tried to breathe as he sheathed himself.
Hard as iron, his cock thrust up towards her, protected now, and ready for its own pleasure. She was so ready for him she could've exploded just from staring at it.
But she held on, gritting her teeth against her onrushing orgasm as Jack helped her lower herself down---down until their bodies met and he was so deep inside her she lost track of who ended where and what was touching what.
They were one.
There was no question of her closing her eyes any more. She stared at Jack's face, seeing the expressions chase themselves across his features. Sheer bliss as she raised herself up on his cock and desire mixed with an almost painful need as she slid back down again.
His eyes were glazed a little, the pupils dark and huge, the emerald green of his irises flickering in the reflected lights that softly bathed them both as they loved.
And that's what they did. They loved.
Daphne let her body love Jack's with each slide, and she knew he was letting his body love hers with each caress, each clench of his muscles, each thrust deeper and deeper still inside her.
His control was amazing, and her own spirit responded, waiting---wanting---but holding off until the last possible moment to let go. She was full of him, her body, her heart, her eyes, her mind...it seemed for that one little slice of time that she was him, could feel his heart beat as her own, his lungs fight for breath as her own...they were so much more than two people making love.
He released one hip and gently cupped her breast, flicking his thumb over the hard bud as she sank her body down onto his cock so completely that her thoughts froze.
It was enough.
The lightest touch on her nipple tipped her over the edge, and her mouth gaped open as the shudders began to rack her from toenails to eyebrows. A scream caught around her tonsils someplace, and finally her eyes closed as she lost the battle against the inevitable and her orgasm swamped her like a tidal wave.
It was...beyond belief.
As Jack felt the first spasms of her cunt around his cock, he thought the same thing.
Watching her touch herself, arouse herself had been an experience guaranteed to drive a sane man mad with lust long before this. He'd held out as long as he could, but seeing Daphne's pleasure, watching her pussy swell and darken and shed tears of delight at her own touch, had damn near pushed him off the highest cliff he could ever remember lying on.
And finally, he'd given in, pulled her to him, and sunk into her, unable to wait a moment longer.
She'd ridden him with every ounce of passion she'd had, and he hoped he'd given her back half as much in return.
But whatever he'd given, it would never be enough. Not to repay the trust she'd shown in him tonight...the things she'd done.
And now she was writhing above him, lost in her orgasm, and pulling his from him, willingly but demandingly, insisting he come with her.
Hell yeah.
He let the shout break from his throat, raw and harsh, as his cock flexed and found the relief it needed so badly. His balls tightened and found a home snug up against Daphne's pussy as he thrust deep, spurting himself hard and long into her.
Jesus. He wished it was her, not the damn condom. Her cunt was hot and slick and welcoming, and for one of the few times Jack could remember, he wanted to feel it, skin-to-skin, not skin-to-latex. He wanted her heat, he wanted to feel every single ripple and shudder as she climaxed. He wanted to fill her cunt and her womb and her perineal cavity if there was any room left. He wanted all of her.
And he wanted it touching all of him.
Shaking with his orgasm, Jack let the splendor of his feelings wash over him, like Daphne's scent, rippling across his body and into his heart.
At that moment he faced the truth and stared deep into her eyes.
He was in love with Daphne.
\*
"Beep...beep...beep..."
The strident sound of her alarm clock woke Daphne from a deep sleep on Monday morning. But instead of her usual curses and thumps with a pillow, she stretched, leaned over and pressed the "snooze" button.
She'd woken from a dream of Jack and the sensation lingered---she wanted to enjoy it for a few moments longer.
It had been a weekend right out of one of her dreams, mused Daphne, idly watching the morning sunshine filtering through her shades and making lacy patterns on the opposite wall.
They'd loved with a madness she'd never guessed could exist, and on a huge porn movie bed, too. She'd lost every inhibition she'd ever had, and then some, in the arms of this...this...god among men.
She grinned and made a mental note never to tell him that particular phrase. There was honesty, and then there was ego-stroking.
But he'd certainly taken her to Olympian heights, and then cuddled her afterwards with tenderness and care as they'd dozed. Finally, as dawn broke over the quiet Sunday streets, they'd driven back to his apartment, stopping for coffee and bagels along the way.
The coffee had been cold, however, by the time they'd gotten to it. Tired and sticky, they'd both showered---together---and it had turned into another brand new sensual experience for Daphne.
He'd shown no hesitation in getting down on his knees in the huge shower and putting his mouth...well, she shivered just thinking about it. All slick and soapy, Jack was a mouthwatering sight, and who could blame her if she'd offered to return the favor?
She'd never, in a million years, imagined doing that to a man. Or enjoying it as much as she had. He tasted of man and salt and a dash of herbs from his soap...he was soft velvet and hard muscle and if she could have swallowed more than just his semen, she would have done. She was so hungry for him it bordered on the absurd.
She stretched again, and realized she was naked beneath the sheets. It hadn't seemed important last night. She'd been so damn tired, and lonely in a different way for the first time in her life.
They'd slept several hours at Jack's, and then he'd woken her, in such a nice way, only to announce that they were going to the zoo.
The zoo!
And so they had, walking hand-in-hand through throngs of happy animal-lovers, clutching bags of peanuts for the poor elephant who seemed pretty tired of them by the time they reached his enclosure. He sniffed the bag and delicately lifted a couple of nuts from Daphne's hand, tickling her palm and making her laugh.
Jack had laughed too.
In fact, they'd both smiled---and laughed---a lot. Just being together, in the sunshine, enjoying such a simple outing, had been...incredible.
They'd both found it nearly impossible to say goodnight, but reality had clonked them both upside the head when they realized that Monday was just hours away. Daphne had to get up early, and Jack mentioned something about an early morning, too. She had no idea what time his store opened, but figured he was the boss. He had to be there.
It had taken them an hour of fervent necking in the car outside her apartment just to part.
Daphne grinned again. For a hotly sexual man, Jack sure did love necking. Long lingering kisses, accompanied by soft strokes to all the right places beneath her clothes...she'd nearly come twice in the front seat of his Corvette.
Of course, she'd gotten in a few strokes of her own, too. Damn, the man turned her into a sex-starved nymphet. Or maybe she'd always been a sex-starved nymphet and it had taken Jack to bring that side of her personality out of the depths of the closet.
She shrugged and wrinkled her nose as the "snooze" alarm reminded her that her leisure time was over. Monday, in all its realistic glory, was upon her.
But this Monday was different.
This Monday she was in love with a sweet and wonderful store manager, handsome as sin, fabulous in bed, and a really, really great kisser.
Life was good.
Jack came in the shower with a grunt and a shudder.
He astounded himself. After such a sexually active weekend, he'd figured it was back to normal on Monday morning, but standing under the running water and lathering his body had brought back vivid memories of Daphne and what she'd---they'd---done...right there.
Within seconds, Jack's cock had been as hard as nails and his vision blurred as he could damn near feel her mouth on him once more. He'd had no choice.
Grasping himself firmly he'd begun to stroke, seeing not his hand, but Daphne. Her eyes glancing up at him, watching his face, then closing as she slid her lips over as much of his cock as she could. It had been unskilled, wonderful and as close to heaven on earth as Jack figured it could possibly get.
When she'd swallowed as he spurted into the back of throat, well...Jack had almost passed out.
For years, oral sex had been part and parcel of his daily grind. He'd filmed it, staged it, orchestrated it and even shown a couple of actors how to do it right for the cameras.
He'd done it himself and had it done to him more times than he could count. But never, ever, had it felt like it did when Daphne touched him.
He sighed and reached for his shampoo. He was going to have to face some difficult decisions---and soon. Fate had really dealt him a wild card this time around.
Absently working his hair into a lather, Jack closed his eyes and tried to consider the whole situation rationally, running it through his mind like files in a drawer. First, there was Daphne. A very thick file, and one that would probably get him hard all over again if he opened it.
He let it be for a bit and moved on. The black-bordered file was the one that was troubling him, and it had a name on it. "Big John Johnson". This identity, the one Daphne knew nothing about, was going to have to be revealed, and soon.
He couldn't possibly go on maintaining the façade of a store manager with a woman like Daphne. She deserved the truth, the best of everything and lots more sex.
Ooops. Wrong file.
Rinsing himself off, Jack tried to see a way around this issue. Somehow, he was going to have to tell Daphne who he really was. What he did for a living. And he didn't like the whole frickin' idea. He realized that he didn't like Big John very much anymore, either.
It was Jack who'd had fun at the zoo yesterday, not Big John. And although they'd fucked like rabbits in a porn studio, it had been Jack bringing those cries of pleasure from Daphne's throat, not Big John.
In fact, Big John Johnson was starting to become a liability, not an integral part of Jack's life anymore.
Thoughtfully, Jack toweled himself off and dressed for the day.
He'd known this time would come. The disenchantment had already begun, before he'd even met Daphne. She'd just accelerated the process for him, and realigned his thinking.
But what the fuck am I gonna do?
Jack stared into his mirror as he brushed his drying hair, but saw nothing of his own image. He was trying to see a future as Jack Foster, not Big John Johnson. He knew it was out there, and the more he thought about it, the more he realized it was closer today than it had ever been.
Today, he wanted it. He wanted a future as plain Jack Foster. He wanted to turn out the lights in his studio and say goodnight to Big John and the plastic-breasted world of porn movies. He'd done his best, given it his all, and was proud of his accomplishments.
Been there, done that, censored the T-shirt and invested the profits from it, thank you.
But now he knew, sure as shit, that something had been missing...and that something was Daphne. A woman who cared about him for who he was. A woman who, quite possibly, loved Jack Foster. No strings attached.
At least he prayed she loved him. It had taken no time at all for him to tumble head-over-ass for those doe-brown eyes of hers, and the magic spell they'd cast on him still made his head spin.
He'd accepted that she was "the one". He'd been around the block enough times to leave ruts in the asphalt, and he had no doubts that these emotions he felt when he was with her were the real thing.
But...there was a distinct chance he'd lose it all---and her---when she found out the truth.
It wasn't a picture he liked looking at.
Jack closed his mental folder and slammed the drawer shut on the filing cabinet.
There had to be a way. And dammit, he'd find it. Daphne was too important to him now for it to be otherwise.
With that resolve uppermost in his mind, Jack headed out for the studio, determined to find a solution---not only for the sake of his relationship with Daphne, but for his own future.
He didn't want to be Big John anymore.
Big John would have to die.
\*
Daphne was hoarse.
Mondays were "Mom's Hour" in the Children's section of the library, and featured a guest storyteller surrounded by what seemed like hordes of colorful munchkins. All talking at once.
As were their weary moms, who seized the opportunity to plunk Junior down on his or her butt in a circle with twenty other "Juniors" in front of an amazingly loud-voiced volunteer. The storyteller held the kids in thrall for anywhere up to an hour, and the moms could kick back and breathe a bit, without having to do much more than detach one kid's hands from another's hair, or make frequent potty trips to the little bathroom.
It was a very popular feature, and usually afforded Daphne a great deal of satisfaction, since she'd inaugurated the program in the first place.
But today was one of those days when every child seemed to have its volume control cranked up to "high", and she'd been shouting over the cacophony for so darn long her throat ached.
Fortunately, it was also the day that included not only the Assistant Librarian, but also two more volunteers. A bunch of kids in the right mood could wreak more havoc in a library than two divisions of armored marines.
As a lull fell over the building, and the storyteller droned soothingly to her motley audience, Daphne felt safe enough to take a quick break.
"I'm gonna go grab a coffee, Shel...want anything?"
Assistant Librarian Shelly Miles glanced up with a grimace. "Vodka and tonic? Double?"
Daphne grinned. "Too early."
Shelly grinned back. "It's gotta be five o'clock somewhere in the world."
"I know what you mean."
The other woman sighed. "I'll pass, honey, thanks. Any more coffee and you'll have to peel me off the ceiling along with the kids. I'm starting to think there must be caffeine in that apple juice they bring with them. They're cranked today, for sure."
Daphne nodded. "Yeah. You're right. I'll be ten minutes at most, okay?"
Shelly waved her off. "Go...relax. Breathe. Strangle a munchkin. Make it two...one for me." She gazed at the returns cart, which now tilted at a drunken angle and had burped books all over the floor. "The lollipop league struck again."
Daphne smothered a laugh and slunk out the side entrance, heading for her favorite bookstore less than a block away. They served great coffee, and also offered great deals on older titles. Daphne was a regular shopper, drinker, and browser.
The soothing beverage eased her throat, the quiet of the store calmed her thoughts, and for the first time that morning she felt free enough to allow the warmth that was Jack to creep into her mind.
Thinking about him while trying to work had resulted in some appallingly awful mis-filings, a couple of lost returns and a patron who couldn't understand why the book he'd put on reserve for his research into the mating habits of the Canadian goose had suddenly turned into an erotic romance.
Daphne shook her head to clear it of all but those thoughts she wanted to enjoy, and strolled the aisles.
Jack. Always Jack. He was so comfortably settled into her brain she had a hard time recalling her life before he arrived. It was like she'd known him forever, had reserved a place in her heart for him, and had just been waiting for him to come along and fill it.
He had. He'd filled a few other places with perfect precision, too.
She felt a blush heating her cheeks, and sternly told herself to focus on the books, not the sex.
Idly scanning the bargain table, a large volume tucked beneath caught her eye, and she balanced her coffee carefully as she knelt down to take a closer look.
"The Best Movies Ever Made." It was huge, with a glossy cover featuring a classic movie-poster graphic that reminded her of the film noir ads from the nineteen-thirties. She pulled it out with difficulty and rested it on an empty stand.
Ooooh. It was, in a word, gorgeous.
Carefully turning the pages, Daphne lost herself in the beautiful color stills from some of the finest movies ever made. The darn thing lived up to its title. She smiled at a black-and-white full size photo of Ingrid Bergman and Humphrey Bogart sharing "that" look. Casablanca, of course.
There was plenty of narrative, quotes from some of the best directors, from D.W. Griffith to Martin Scorsese, and a mammoth amount of information about dozens of fabulous films.
It was the "coffee table" book to end all coffee table books for movie fans, and Daphne knew just the coffee table it belonged on.
Jack's.
Nervously she opened the flyleaf and checked the price. Okay. Not cheap. But marked down... Not surprising, really, since this was a book for celluloid aficionados, not someone looking to fill an empty space in their decorating scheme. A much cheaper volume on Renoir or Monet would serve that purpose.
This one was a treasure trove of information, photography and movie lore, and Daphne was convinced after only a few pages that Jack would love it. He was so knowledgeable about film, especially the classics, that this would only enhance his collection.
She had a vision of them snuggled in front of his couch on the floor, turning the pages and discussing the movies featured in the book.
It was an image that brought a lump to her throat. It was one from a future she so hoped would come to pass. They'd gotten hot and heavy with each other, become sexually involved so quickly, and then...in a backwards reversal of everything she'd assumed was right, they'd gotten to know each other.
And how she loved what she'd found.
Closing the book, she hefted it under her arm, grabbed her coffee with the other hand, and headed for the checkout aisle. This book was a sign. An omen. She'd buy it, give it to Jack and flat out tell him how she felt.
The hell with the rules on this sort of thing. She couldn't live another day without releasing a lot of emotional stuff, whether he wanted to hear it or not. It was time.
Time to say a few words that could make or break her future. Not three little words, but four. "I love you, Jack."
She couldn't wait.
Of course the library had other ideas.
As soon as she got back and tucked her purchase safely into a desk drawer, her phone started ringing. And it rang, continually, for much of the rest of the day. Annoyingly demanding calls, pleasantly soliciting calls, calls from callers Daphne could willingly have shot point blank at the end of the afternoon.
When the final call came in, it was truly the last straw.
"Good afternoon, Miss Littlewood, I'm sorry to bother you..."
Why? Everybody else and their brother has today...
"I was in this morning for Mom's Hour, and just now I found..."
What? A book? Your kid stole a book? Ripped off a first edition? Used Webster's as a teething ring? What?
"Spots."
Daphne blinked. "Spots?"
"Yep. Spots. All over Jessica."
"Uh..." Daphne's brain struggled.
"It's been confirmed by our pediatrician. It's chicken pox."
"Oh lord." Daphne rested her forehead on her hand and closed her eyes.
"I'm awfully sorry. But I thought you should know. The children who were with Jessica this morning---they've all been exposed..."
"Yes...yes, I see the problem." What Daphne saw was another round of phone calls alerting mothers to the possibility of more spots.
"So I was hoping you could make a few quick phone calls? I've alerted my friends, of course, but there were lots of people there I didn't recognize. I'm not sure if you keep a list of kids attending...?"
The woman's voice trailed off hopefully.
Daphne straightened her shoulders. "I can check the library cards for books taken out after story hour. Most of the children take one home with them afterwards, so it'll just be a matter of sorting the records."
"Bless you, Miss Littlewood---Jessie...don't scratch, darling---well, I must go. So sorry again for the bother."
"Oh no bother. I hope Jessica feels better soon. Thanks for calling." And killing another two hours I could've spent telling the man I love that I love him. Aaargh.
Unaware that Daphne was dealing with assorted public health issues, irate mothers and chicken pox, Jack had troubles of his own at the studio.
"Up the ass, Ch-Ch-Ch-Chase, I want it up the ass...c-c-c-c-come in m-m-my ass...ohhhh."
Jack pinched the bridge of his nose, sighed, and then clicked the switch on his small desk mike. "Once more, Donna honey..."
For some totally unknown reason, Donna Childs could spout dialogue with no hesitation while getting thoroughly fucked. But put her in a sound studio to re-record any lines that hadn't come through clearly, and she stuttered.
Thanks to the odd sound glitch, Jack had found it necessary to get Donna to redo a page or so of her dialogue. And it had taken many long, looooong hours to get them out of the way.
Donna pouted on the other side of the sound booth glass. "But Big John! That was fine, wasn't it?"
He bit the inside of his mouth, and held back his response. Sure, babe. If you want people to think you're a terrified virgin begging for anal sex. "Let's try it once more." He sighed again. "I'm sorry, Donna. But you know I think this is your best performance ever. I just wanna make sure all the rest of this film is as fine as your ass."
Donna preened, thrust her huge breasts out nearly knocking over her mike, and smiled. She was tall, blonde and gorgeous, fucked like a rabbit on command and enjoyed every minute of it. And right now, Jack could cheerfully have strangled her.
"Lemme get a drink of water, okay, Big John?"
He nodded and leaned back in his chair, ignoring the hiss of exasperation from Chuck who had sat next to him and shared the entire miserable experience.
"Maybe if we get Brad in here, strip him and have him jerk off in front of her, it'll distract her enough to get those damn lines on tape." He drummed his fingers on the sound control panel.
"Not a bad idea, but let's hold it in reserve. We're nearly there. It's only taken, what...five hours to get ten minutes of dialogue redone. And it's Donna. We knew it wasn't going to be a cakewalk."
Chuck snorted and watched Donna as she slurped down half a bottle of water. "Betcha five bucks she'll have to pee now."
"No bet." Jack grinned.
"Uh...Big John?" Donna tentatively tapped a finger on her mike. "Mind if I take a quick bathroom break?"
Jack and Chuck exchanged glances.
Yeah, it had been a helluva long day, and a difficult one for Jack. Almost bittersweet. He knew, without a doubt, that this was going to be his last film. He was happy about it, and excited about the future, but it had been his life up to now and there was a certain amount of nervousness involved.
His future was uncertain. What it held, he had no clue. Just that Big John wasn't going to be a part of it.
"So." Chuck looked at him. "When are you going to make the announcement?"
Jack's head jerked up and he stared at his friend. "What announcement?"
Chuck smiled. "Jack, we go back more years than I can remember. I've seen you drunk, horny, madder'n a wet hen, and horny. Did I mention horny?"
Jack chuckled. "Your point?"
"I've never seen you in love."
Jack blinked. "What?"
"You're the best director there is. It's been an honor to work alongside you and count you as my buddy. But recently, it's been pretty damn clear your heart wasn't in it so much. And over these last few days...well hell, dude. She's on your mind, isn't she?"
Chuck punched him in the shoulder. "You smile at the oddest times, take Donna's crap without losing your temper, make phone calls that are longer than any I've ever known you to make, and don't put in eighteen hour days any more. You show up to handle a crisis with a pair of white lace undies in your pocket, which is so totally out of character for you, it's equivalent to Britney Spears joining a convent, and you ask me how I know?"
He grinned. "I'm a lot of things, but I ain't no fool, Jack."
There was a long moment of silence.
"You want to take over the studio?" The words fell from Jack's lips as naturally as if he'd planned them. He hadn't, but all of a sudden he knew they were the only ones he could have said.
"Huh?" Chuck gaped at him.
"You're right. I'm done. Finito. End of story. This is Big John's last movie. But Big John isn't real. I am, and yeah, there's someone special now. Real special. And I want a life with her that doesn't include spending my working days watching other people fucking their brains out."
"You'd rather be fucking your own brains out?" Chuck raised an eyebrow.
"Well, yeah, that too. But..." He ran a hand through his hair. "It's different with her, Chuck. Honest to God. Sounds stupid, but...it's just...different. That's all I can say."
He swallowed. "So here's the deal. Big John Johnson is a name not a real person. Sure, people know me. But they know you too. You've just said how many years we've worked together. You know as much about this shit as I do---more, in some ways."
He paused, collecting his thoughts. "So you're gonna take over Big John Johnson productions."
"Just like that?"
"Yeah. Just like that."
A clearing throat recalled both men to the buxom woman standing impatiently at the microphone in front of the sound booth. "You sure I have to do this once more, Big John?"
Jack turned to Chuck and grinned at him, tilting his head toward Donna.
Chuck heaved in a lungful of air and reached for the mike. "Just once more, baby. But this time, close your eyes, ignore all the sound stuff, and just think of Brad Marshall's dick, okay?"
"Oooh." Donna giggled. "Okay, Chuck. That won't be hard. Or maybe I should say that will be hard." She giggled again and closed her eyes.
"See?" Jack mouthed the words to Chuck. "Nice going...Big John."
"Up the ass, Chase, I want it up the ass...come in m-m-m-y ass...ooooh..."
Shit.
Jack and Chuck exchanged grimaces.
"Hell, it almost worked." Jack shrugged. "But see how easily you took over?"
Chuck sighed. "It'll take some getting used to." He leaned back to the mike. "That was damn near perfect, Donna honey. Just keep thinking of Brad's dick, okay? Once more please..."
He flicked switches and within half an hour they'd completed the re-record.
And Chuck had himself a promotion.
\*
"You're where?" Daphne stared at the phone in her hand.
"I'm at the studio...remember? The one I took you to...Saturday night..."
Oh yes, as if she could forget that! "I don't understand Jack. What are you doing there?"
"It's a long story, babe, and I want to tell you all about it. Can you find your way here? I'll arrange for the guard to let you through and you can park where we did the other night. Okay?"
Daphne gulped. "Uh...sure. I guess. Jack, are you all right? You sound a bit funny..."
"I've never been better, babe. Honest. Some stuff happened today that was...destined, I suppose. I need to see you---talk to you about it. How soon can you be here?"
Daphne glanced at her watch. "Um...about half an hour or so, I guess?"
"Too long. But I'll manage to survive. See you then."
The dial tone echoed in her hand as Daphne frowned at the now-dead phone. She'd called Jack's cellular as he'd instructed, so that they could make plans for the evening. She had no idea that they'd include another trip to the porn studio. Or even if she wanted them to.
But if that was where Jack was, then that was where she would be.
She wondered what it'd look like in the daylight. Probably seedy. Or maybe not...it hadn't been nearly as bad as she'd expected on Saturday night. And she'd been twice as bad as she'd ever imagined she could be.
A blush spread over her cheeks as she gathered her things together, picked up the heavy book in its wrapping---thank God the store had offered gift wrap because she'd never have had time to do that herself---and got ready to quit for the day.
And the phone rang once more.
Muttering curses that would have made a trucker blush, she looked at it and weighed her options. She could ignore it. But perhaps it was Jack again. If she picked it up and it wasn't, she'd have to break some speed laws to get over to the studio in less than half an hour.
Sighing, she picked it up.
"Daphne, dear. I'm so glad I caught you." Dr. Jane's voice swam into Daphne's ear. "I thought perhaps you'd be gone for the night, but I wanted to touch base..."
"Jane. How nice...I'm sorry I haven't had chance to call you since you got back, but honestly, it's been very busy. I was just on my way out actually..."
"Then I won't keep you. I had to let you know that your first draft is excellent---I read it on the plane home. With the addition of your extra research, I think you'll have a super presentation and paper to offer the board."
"Oh wow. That's good news, Jane. I'm really happy to hear it." And she was, although Daphne's conscience reminded her that her dissertation had slipped rather low on her priority list lately. Right beneath lacy lingerie and a new perfume.
"There was one other thing..."
Daphne sighed and sat down again. "Yes?"
"You remember that man you were with when you called me a week or so ago? Jack? Jack Foster?"
Daphne's spine straightened in her chair. "Yes?"
"I remembered where I'd heard the name."
"Oh?"
"Mmm hmm. He's a contributor to our college."
"What?" Daphne's eyes widened.
"Quite a sizeable one too. He's largely responsible for the audiovisual lab upgrade equipment we were able to install recently. I probably shouldn't be telling you this, but since I'm on the Board of Trustees, I get to see who signs the checks. Your Jack Foster is one of them."
"Good God."
"Yep. You found yourself quite a nice catch there, Daphne. Seems he's a nice man, in spite of what one might think."
Daphne frowned. "What do you mean?"
"Well...given his occupation---it's hard to equate a top producer of porn films with someone who quietly donates large sums of money to local educational facilities, now, isn't it?"
"A...a producer? Of porn films?"
"Yes, dear. Did you think I didn't know? Jack Foster is the real name of Big John Johnson. The very well-known producer who's done wonders for the genre. So I hear, anyway. Never watched any of 'em myself. Not good for the heart at my age..." Jane chuckled.
Daphne's world was spinning around her ears and little dots of light were flashing across her vision. She was, quite literally, speechless.
"But I should let you go...come over and see me when you've finished adding in your extra research data, dear. I'm looking forward to it. Bye for now."
"Uhhh..." She was grunting to a dial tone.
Oh. My. God.
Daphne sat, slack jawed, and carefully replaced the phone on its cradle like it was dynamite ready to explode. Her brain was in the same situation.
She felt sick, stunned and shocked, with a gazillion different emotions whirling in her gut and churning up into her throat.
She swallowed with difficulty.
He was Big John Johnson. Jack Foster was Big John Johnson.
The idea seeped slowly into her consciousness and sat there, uncomfortably, awkwardly, shaking the foundations of her being. And kicking rather nastily around her heart.
Holy shit.
Daphne rubbed shaking hands over her face and sucked air into her starving lungs.
Big John Johnson. Jack Foster. One and the same person.
Her heart drummed in her ears and she winced at the sound, trying desperately to pull herself together.
It was a shock. A huge great knock-her-knees-out-from-under-her shock.
She stood up and paced the length of her small office, trying to reestablish control over her body and her mind. And finally, both settled back into more normal patterns. Her feet worked, her knees stopped wobbling, and she began to let her thoughts process the information in a more rational manner.
They'd enjoyed a few moments of running around screaming with their hands slapped up against their ears, but enough was enough.
It explained so many things, of course.
Various puzzle parts slotted nicely into place in this new scheme of things. Where they'd met. Big John Johnson had been signing his work. She just hadn't known her Jack was Big John himself.
Big John Johnson had to be incredibly familiar with movies and their production processes. She just hadn't known her Jack was Big John.
And the studio? Damn, he probably owned the damn thing. No wonder he could afford a Corvette. She just...hadn't known.
She stopped pacing and gazed unseeingly at the wall in front of her, as something very important occurred to her.
She hadn't known.
She hadn't fallen in love with anyone but Jack Foster. The man who'd touched her like she was precious to him, loved her to the brink of insanity and laughed with her at an elephant.
That Jack Foster.
The man who could make her heart do an odd little hiccup just by smiling at her with those glorious green eyes. The man who didn't need jokes explained, and who could quote Bogart back to her without pause.
The man...the man she loved.
There was no two ways about it. She loved him. And the more she thought about it, she realized that it wouldn't matter if he were a garbage man or a Senator. Well---okay, perhaps not a Senator. There were some professions even Daphne would be hard-pressed to stomach.
The Jack who had talked with her that first night in the video store was a warm, caring, intelligent man. He was sexy as hell, fabulous in bed, and had shown her nothing but affection and passion. She'd taken him as she'd found him, and let him take her...yeah, well, best not get into that right now.
Daphne realized something else. That if she'd known who he was up front, she'd never have let him get within arm's length of her. And that fact really made her furious with herself.
She'd have been as guilty as the rest of the world and judged a man by what he did not by who he was.
Thank God she hadn't had the chance to make that all-too-human mistake. She'd seen him as Jack Foster, nice guy, store manager, and treated him as such. And that thought led to another. Perhaps...just perhaps...Jack liked it that way.
She remembered her quick impressions of the people in the store when she and Jack had met. And put two and two together to come up with a lot of 38-double-Ds.
Her heart lifted. She loved Jack the man, not Big John the producer. It was enough for her. She could live with the porn thing.
Of course, it did explain why he was so good in bed, but somehow, she knew that their loving had meant something special to him. He'd made no secret of it, and she couldn't have been naïve enough to fall for a line of...bullshit.
Could she?
Jerking herself out of her stupor, she realized there was only one way to find out. She had to go confront Big John Johnson himself.
She had to find out where the two identities met. And who it was that she'd fallen in love with.
Brave thoughts, she mused as she gathered her things together. What she really wanted to do was go home, stick her head under the sofa pillow and stay there for about ten years or so.
But that was the coward's way out. She had found a man she was nuts about. He was worth fighting for, if fighting was what she was going to have to do.
Although how she was going to explain to her mother that her current boyfriend was at the top of his field in porn movies was another matter. A smile crossed her lips for the first time in an hour. Knowing her mother, the outrageous woman would be tickled pink.
With that comforting notion uppermost in her mind, Daphne headed off towards the studio and her lover. Whoever he was.
Jack stood in his office doorway and looked around, trying to come to terms with the way his world had shifted in so short a time.
It was an efficient room, designed for a techno-savvy businessman. He'd barred all the posters from this particular space, preferring one or two framed lobby flyers from the classics. Harry Lime, from The Third Man, stared down at his desk, and Veronica Lake tossed that magnificent fall of blonde hair behind Alan Ladd in This Gun for Hire.
There was really nothing that screamed porn. His large gilded "Dick", the accolade of his peers for a couple of his hits, was buried in the back of his bookshelf. He didn't care about awards. It was an honor to receive them, but he couldn't have cared less. He knew he'd never be displaying that golden statuette from the Academy anyplace in here. The day the mainstream movie industry recognized porn as a legitimate cousin was a long way off.
And Big John Johnson certainly wouldn't be around to see it, if it ever happened.
"So." Chuck's voice sounded behind him. "Having second thoughts, Jack?"
Jack shook his head. "Nope. Not a one. In fact..." He strolled over to his desk and ran his hand along the shiny surface. "It feels kinda good, in a weird sort of way. Like a weight's been lifted off my shoulders, you know?"
"Yeah." Chuck grimaced. "And been dumped on mine."
Jack grinned. "You can change your mind, you know."
"Not a chance." Chuck grinned back. "I didn't want your job, but hell, I'm no fool. If you trust me enough to offer it, then fuck, dude, I'm takin' it."
He tossed the paper onto Jack's desk. "There's an article in there you might be interested in...knowing your fascination with old-time movies and stuff like that."
Jack raised an eyebrow. "Really?"
"Mmm hmm. It's about the Wildwood Theater. Looks like it's doomed this time."
"Oh shit."
Jack grabbed the paper and thumbed through the pages, finding the article in the editorial section, and scanning it rapidly.
"God damn!" His mouth tightened. "This is just out-and-out fucking wrong."
Chuck nodded, leaning against the doorway.
"Like we need another strip mall with a couple of high falutin' coffee shops, a hairdresser and a dry cleaners, all of which will go under within the first two years or so, leaving us with more empty storefronts and a lot of lost jobs. Fuck."
Chuck nodded again.
Jack looked up. "You know what this means?" He crumpled the inoffensive newspaper into a ball and tossed it with absent accuracy into the trash bin. "It means we're gonna end up with nothing but the fourteen-screen megacomplex next to the mall as the only place in town to catch a movie." Jack ran his hands angrily through his hair.
"It means everybody's gonna have to wait in line, squeeze themselves into someplace that's made for a kid under the age of twelve, watch films on a screen not much bigger than the average projection TV, and pay through the nose for the privilege."
Chuck opened his mouth, but closed it again as Jack continued his tirade.
"And talk about paying. With no competition, prices can skyrocket. Pretty soon kids won't be able to afford to take their dates to the movies on Friday night. It's gonna cost thirty bucks for a couple of tickets to a new release, let alone what they're gonna sting customers for popcorn." He snarled. "This sucks, Chuck. This really really sucks."
Chuck waited for a moment, then obviously realized Jack was done. "I know." A wry smile curved his mouth. "From what I read, it's the whole money thing that's done in the Wildwood. They're waiting to see if some public-spirited citizen will ante up the cash to get the thing restored. If not, the City Council has authorized its demolition."
Jack's brain worked furiously over this information, and he narrowed his eyes, glaring at his buddy who stared right back at him. "Damn you, Chuck. You know me a helluva lot better than I realized."
"Just thought you'd want to know. The timing seemed right." Chuck looked satisfied and turned to leave. "Oh...one last thing..."
Jack glanced over his shoulder. "What?"
"Left some footage for you in the folder marked "Panties", with an appropriate icon on your desktop. I think it's an audition tape...you should check it out for me. One final favor, I guess...I dunno. I haven't seen it yet, so I'll go on your say-so with this one."
"Sure. I'll take a look when I have a minute."
"Cool." With a casual wave, Chuck sauntered off.
Jack sat down behind his desk and automatically pulled out a pad and pen. He liked making notes on paper...there was something about the feel of the old-fashioned instruments that brought out his creativity a helluva lot more than the clack of keys on a keyboard. He'd plotted most of his films that way, and now he was plotting something even more important.
His future.
And it looked like he was about to go into real estate.
\*
"Name?"
"Uh..." For a split-second, Daphne had no idea what her name was.
The question was fired at her by a rather officious guard at the studio gate. He was a far cry from the semi-insensate game player who'd casually waved them through before. Well, duh. Of course he'd waved them through. She'd been with Big John Johnson, who probably paid the kid's salary.
"Ma'am? Your name?" The guard was waiting impatiently.
"Oh...sorry. Daphne. Daphne Littlewood."
He checked his clipboard. "Okay, Ms. Littlewood. Go on through...down the main drag...first on your right. The BJ parking lot is at the end." He snapped his window shut.
BJ parking lot? Daphne flushed bright pink. Surely they hadn't named a parking lot after...
Common sense rushed to the frontal lobes of her still-confused brain. Big John. Not...not...what she was thinking. Oh heavens above. She was turning into a confirmed scarlet woman.
Hello. My name's Daphne. I'm a sexaholic.
Hello Daphne.
Visions of twelve-step programs and supportive group meetings faded as Daphne carefully drove to the parking lot outside the nondescript building, and yes...there was Jack's Corvette. At least he was here.
She clutched her bag and the gift-wrapped book as she crossed the asphalt lot, looking for anything that resembled a main entrance. There wasn't one. Jack had brought her through a side door the other night, which was now quite securely locked.
What there was, was two people having a very heated argument.
"You bastard. I should shoot you where you stand." A tall blonde with hair pulled into a tight braid was obviously furious with the man in front of her. "You damn near ruined everything, you incompetent asshole."
"Are you mad because of just now...or because of last night?" The man reached out and brushed his hand over her cheek with a sexy grin.
His gesture was met with a curled lip and a hefty swing, which resulted in the sound of a very hard slap up against his face.
The blonde spun on her heel and stalked away, her boots ringing loudly on the pavement.
"So does this mean tomorrow night's off?" The guy yelled after her retreating back.
The blonde lifted her arm and raised her middle finger over her shoulder. She didn't even bother to face him.
The man blinked.
So did Daphne. She recognized him. It was...what was his name? Lou. That was it. It was Lou from the video store. And as his identity came to her, Daphne also realized that the woman had been there too, only with a different hairdo and a lot less clothing.
Lou rubbed his face where she'd landed her punch, and glanced at Daphne. "Gotta love a woman who knows the value of physical action."
"Um...gosh...I'm sorry. I wasn't...I mean...um..."
His face creased into a grin. "Don't sweat it, babe. Just a lover's tiff. She can't get enough of me."
"Hmpf." Daphne decided to reserve judgment on that opinion. Besides, it was none of her business. What was her business was finding Jack. "Actually, I'm trying to find the front door to..." She nodded at the building. No way in hell was she going to ask a stranger for directions to BJ's studio.
"Looking for Big John's place?"
She nodded.
"Right around the corner, honey. Entrance is tucked away in back..."
"Thanks. I hope everything..." She nodded her head at the car that was now laying down rubber tracks in the parking lot as the blonde roared away, "...works out for you."
"It will." Lou tucked his hands in his pockets and sauntered off, looking quite unconcerned that a portion of his face bore the imprint of a thunderingly good smack.
Daphne shrugged. It must be the movie business. Lots of odd people and even odder behavior.
She went in search of Jack.
\*
The desk in front of him was littered with torn-off sheets of paper, and his hair was mussed to something a hedgehog would have turned its nose up at, but Jack was buzzed.
It would work. It would fucking work.
He'd crunched numbers, jotted ideas, scratched them out and jotted down new ones. When it came to planning he was the best. This was how he'd storyboarded his movies...and now it was a written, no---make that scrawled---storyboard for his future.
He leaned back and sighed, closing his eyes and sweeping the detritus mentally out of his brain. One more thing he had to do...Chuck had asked him...oh yeah. The audition footage.
With a sigh he swiveled to his monitor and found the appropriate icon. A pair of panties. He grinned and wondered where the hell Chuck had found that particular graphic.
Double clicking on it, he leaned back in his chair and stuck his feet up, prepared to analyze and comment on the footage.
To his surprise, it was silent for a moment as his video player software activated. He cranked the speakers up in case he'd turned them off without realizing it. Then, the usual graphic introduction flickered to life.
But there was no music...no typical footage...not even the classic clapboard signal for the cameraman to start the film rolling.
Just a softly lit room that looked...vaguely familiar.
"Look up there and tell me what you see..."
Jesus Christ. It was his voice coming over the speakers.
The image brightened a little, and sure as shit...it was Daphne. Facing away from the camera and looking at her own image on the screen beyond.
"Good lord...that's me."
On the monitor, he saw her hand rise to cover her mouth. Fucking hell. They'd been caught---filmed---the night they'd spent here doing...oh my God.
Jack's heels hit the ground as he jumped in his chair. Somebody's balls were gonna get seriously damaged for this.
Chuck.
That rat-bastard. He'd have known what Jack was planning...he had the technical know-how to set it up. Shit shit shit.
Jack's hand trembled over the mouse. He wanted to kill it, delete the file and pretend it never existed, but he couldn't---something held him motionless, watching...
As movies went, it was nothing out of the ordinary. But for Jack, it was like watching his life pass before his eyes.
Every move they'd made, every little nuance of their caresses had been captured, preserved in digital format, and stored on a hard drive. He was riveted by Daphne's expressions, by the sheen on her skin...he could even see the little pulse that beat so strongly at the base of her neck when she was aroused. It drove him crazy.
He saw himself touching her, encouraging her, and his cock hardened immediately as she responded. The memory of her letting go flooded him with emotions, just as the images of her letting go flooded him with arousal.
The sounds and sights of their lovemaking held him entranced as he relived that one incredible night.
Seeing Daphne like this was...different to being there with her. Although he was hard and hungry for her, he had a chance to notice little things...the way her eyelids flickered as she found her clit...the sigh she gave when she took his cock inside her cunt and slid down on him...and the cry of pleasure, echoing loudly round his office, that signaled her orgasm.
He'd been so involved in the moment he'd not seen these things...little things that now meant so much.
As did Daphne.
The image froze, Daphne laying on top of him, sated, his hand just resting on her bare buttock.
Jack realized that his work on his future, all his planning, all his strategies and storyboards would have no meaning at all...if Daphne wasn't a part of it.
"Damn, babe...I love you so much..." He reached out a hand and stroked her buttock on the monitor. "I hope to God you'll forgive me when I tell you the truth. I hope you'll understand..."
"Maybe you'd better ask me and find out. Big John."
Daphne had found her way into the studios without much difficulty, and had been pointed towards "Big John's" office by an efficient-looking receptionist. Surprised that the woman had human-sized breasts, little cleavage to speak of, and a very business-like attitude, Daphne had thanked her and made her way down the hallway to a half-open door at the end.
It was late now, the offices were quiet, the studio dimmed---apparently there'd been no filming today---and she heard the murmur of voices as she neared the end of the hallway.
She froze.
It was her voice. And Jack's.
Tiptoeing silently into the large office, she stopped dead. Jack was sitting with his back to her, behind a large desk littered with papers. In front of him, and clearly visible to Daphne, was a healthy-sized computer monitor, and on that...
Oh. My. God.
For the second time that day, Daphne felt her knees buckle, and she clung on to what was left of her sanity with both hands, her toes and her front teeth.
They'd been filmed.
Filmed doing---ohmigod that---not to mention...that.
A sick and ugly lump grew in her stomach and spread to her throat. Did these people have no morals? Did these men do this all the time with their dates? Share videos over coffee? Save the best for the Christmas parties?
She caught her own voice... "I'm making you crazy?"
Hah. She'd show this...this voyeur...crazy. Her knuckles tightened around the heavy book in her arms. It would make a very satisfying sound if she heaved it across the room at that male head.
Her muscles tensed, but then she heard his voice on the speakers. "Please...Daph..."
And in spite of the disgust that threatened to choke her, she found herself watching the couple on the screen, scarcely able to realize that the woman writhing and moaning in pleasure was herself.
And then she caught a glimpse of him.
Jack.
Upside down, his face was a study in emotions---raw sensuality poured from every expression, and nothing was held back.
Even Daphne had to admit that this wasn't the face of a man putting on a show for the cameras. This was real. This was someone loving someone else. A man loving a woman. Jack...loving her.
She held her breath, waiting for the moment to end and the images to flicker to their inevitable finale. The sound of her own orgasm shuddered into her ears and she felt a blush spread over her cheeks.
Damn, she was loud.
She swallowed down a ball of something bittersweet, and took a breath, ready to launch into the biggest yell she could dredge from her lungs. But once more, she paused.
The video had ended, the two of them lying boneless and exhausted on the huge bed. And Jack moved.
His hand went to the screen and he ran a finger down over her image. "Damn, babe...I love you so much..."
The words were almost a whisper, but in the silence of the office she heard them clearly. And her heart melted into a puddle.
He loved her.
Her ears burned and her eyes filled with tears.
"I hope to God you'll forgive me when I tell you the truth. I hope you'll understand..."
She stepped forward and spoke the first words that came into her head. "Maybe you'd better ask me and find out. Big John."
If she'd detonated a small grenade behind him, Jack couldn't have jumped higher. "Jesus Christ, you scared me."
He was as white as a sheet, eyes green and intense as he stared at her.
"And you shocked me." She gripped the book tightly, holding it protectively against her. "This..." She nodded at the monitor. "You. Who you are... I know it all. Why didn't you tell me, Jack?"
He closed his eyes for a moment and she saw his throat move as he gulped. "I couldn't." He paused and opened his eyes again, staring straight into hers. "I was afraid."
"Afraid? Of what?"
He sighed. "So many things, Daphne. Too many to explain, some I don't even understand myself. But above all...that I'd lose you."
Daphne crossed the room and put the book down, following it with both her hands as she leaned across his desk. "Listen to me, and listen well, Jack Foster. I love you."
His eyes lit up, but she continued before he could speak. "I love Jack Foster. The man who makes my world a better place. I don't care about Big John Johnson or what he does for a living, because he's not you. He's simply a small part of who you are. I'm glad I met you and that we slept together and I'm glad for all the things we've done together. Not because you're some big movie guy, but because you're Jack. My Jack. You're not going to lose me. Do you understand?"
Jack seemed bereft of speech.
"Nod if you understand me, Jack."
He nodded.
"Good. Now. About this damn video..."
"Honey, I can explain..." Words tumbled from Jack's mouth in a sudden avalanche of apologies. "It was a prank. A practical joke. I swear on my mother's best teapot that nobody's seen it but me. Us. Honest to God, Daph..."
He was stuttering, and Daphne felt a little bubble of laughter building inside her. She sternly quelled it. He wasn't going to get off scot-free on this one. "So you people do this all the time, do you? For a lark?"
"No, Daph...I swear... Chuck's been after me since I pulled a stunt on him..."
Daphne raised an eyebrow.
"You see there was this goat..."
She raised her hand. "Stop right there. I get the picture."
"Daph..." Jack stood up shakily from his chair. "Did you mean what you just said?"
"Which part?"
"The part about...about loving me?"
He looked uncertain, unsure of himself, and so damnably perfect that every thought of wicked revenge went right out of Daphne's head and was replaced by other even more wicked thoughts. "Yes."
"Daph." The word was exhaled as Jack rounded the desk and moved to her. "Oh Daph."
Before she could blink she was in his arms and his lips were on hers.
He held her close and kissed her like she was a storybook heroine, bending her backwards over his arm and---yes---ravaging her mouth with his.
She'd never had her mouth ravaged before and decided she rather liked it. She ravaged back.
Tongues met and merged, lips slid comfortably across other lips and bodies heated from the friction their caresses were generating. For Daphne, it was a kiss like no other. This was the first time they'd touched...loved...with no secrets between them. And with their emotions out in the open.
The pressure eased as Jack's lips gentled on hers. "God, I...Daph..." His breath whispered across her moist skin.
"For a high powered film director, you're a bit lacking in the dialogue department." She nestled into his shoulder and grinned at him, feeling the flush of desire flooding her cheeks.
"Actions speak louder than words, babe..." His hand slid up to cup her breast. "But in case I didn't make myself clear, I love you."
"I love you too. Jack. Whoever you are."
"I'm just Jack. As of tonight, truly honestly just Jack."
She looked at him in puzzlement. "I don't understand?"
He tugged her behind the desk and sat her down in his lap. "Let me tell you a story about a kid with a passion for movies, Big John Johnson and an old theater."
"Does it have a happy ending?"
"That's up to you. And me. It hasn't been written yet."
"Ah." She snuggled against him. "So tell me."
\*
It was dark by the time Jack finished his story, since it was interrupted with frequent kisses and sighs and murmurs from Daphne.
It was a rare moment out of time for him---sharing his life and his thoughts with a woman. He'd never done it before, never wanted to before, and the enormity of it would have made him extremely nervous if he hadn't had such a warm armful of femininity hanging onto his every word.
"And then this happened..." He gestured at his monitor. "So I'm going to delete that right away---"
"Wait..." Daphne's hand grasped his wrist. "Don't."
"No?" Jack blinked.
"We might...well...perhaps we could...um..." The color flooded her cheeks. "Are you absolutely positive there are no other copies of this?"
He nodded, watching her.
"Then don't delete it. Get it off your computer onto a CD or something. Let's keep it, Jack."
"Really?" She was a constant source of amazement to him, this librarian he'd fallen in love with. There seemed to be no end to the ways she could surprise him.
"Really. I'd like to watch it again. With you. On that huge TV of yours..."
"On the couch..." he added.
"Yes...that lovely couch..."
"With both of us naked..."
Daphne swallowed and groaned. "Jaaaack..."
She seemed to be having difficulty forming the word. Especially when her blouse was unfastened and a hand crept inside her bra.
"Jaaaack..."
"I'm still a bit dizzy. I need something to hold on to."
"You faker." She grinned up at him and nestled her breast into his hand, making his heart sing.
He tried to concentrate on what he'd been saying. "So we get to this." He nodded at the papers strewn over his desk. "My future. Our future."
"Huh?"
"I've resigned from the studio as of today. Chuck's taking over Big John Johnson productions, and you, my lovely, are sitting in the lap of the town's newest realty developer."
"At the risk of repeating myself...huh?" Daphne blinked at him.
"I read this article in the paper about the Wildwood. How it's gonna be destroyed if someone doesn't do something."
Daphne raised an eyebrow. "Let me guess. You're 'someone'."
Jack smiled. "Yep." He ran a finger over her arm. "I've got the money, that's no problem. I have ideas, Daph, things I'd like to do with the theater. Make it a viable operational theater. Stuff like special showings for mothers when the kids are in school. Theme nights. Maybe even adding in small concessions where people can buy the books the movies are based on...stuff like that..."
He bit his lip nervously. "What do you think?"
"Oh Jack." She hugged him. "Yes."
"So you'll help me? I'll need someone to research it thoroughly, find out what it used to look like...all that kind of thing."
Daphne sighed in contentment. "Of course. I can't imagine anything I'd like more."
"I can." Jack tightened his hand around her soft breast and leaned close, teasing her nipple with his thumb as he dropped tiny kisses over her neck.
"Oh...yeah...well...there is that..." Her voice faded away as he kept up his sensual assault. Damn, he was hard as a rock, but he didn't want to move. This moment was too precious.
Sadly, it was not one destined to last. A knock on the half-open door made them both jump up and Daphne pulled her blouse hurriedly back across her chest.
Jack sighed. "Chuck, men have been shot for less than that."
Chuck peeked his head around the door. "Sorry to bother you, Jack...oh. Hi." He smiled at Daphne. "Let me guess. White lace thong?"
Daphne's eyes widened and her cheeks flushed.
Jack held her tight. "Chuck...meet Daphne. Daphne, this idiot who happened to see something drop out of my pocket the other night, is Chuck."
"Ah. Um...nice to meet you, Chuck." It was a very polite response from a rather delightfully mussed librarian who was currently sitting on the lap of Chuck's soon-to-be-ex boss.
"Likewise, Daphne. I'll be on my way out then, Jack. I didn't realize you had company...honest...sorry---"
"Chuck?"
"Yeah?"
"Get out."
Chuck grinned at the harsh order. "You're not my boss any more you know."
"Chuck?"
"Yeah?"
"Get out and close the door behind you."
"You got it. Night." Chuck left, obediently closing the door tight behind him.
Daphne giggled. "He must be a good friend. You were really rude to him."
"Forget him. Where were we?" Jack fumbled around with Daphne's blouse. "You got the buttons in the wrong holes."
She rolled her eyes. "We were talking about the Wildwood---oh...that reminds me...I brought you something---"
"Two somethings, actually..." muttered Jack as he bared her breasts.
"Wait. Just a minute---it's a present for you."
Surprised, Jack raised his head. "For me?"
"Mmm hmm." She pulled a large package across the desk. "I saw it, and it was like it had your name on it. Go ahead, open it."
Curious now, Jack eased the wrapping back from the gift, and revealed..."Oh sweetheart..."
They both shifted a little to get a better look.
"Do you like it?" Daphne glanced up at him. "I just...it just..."
"Honey it's magnificent..." Jack fanned through the pages. "Just magnificent." He touched her neck, turning her face to his. "Thank you."
"Well, I...we...um..." Her eyes lowered to his mouth.
"Yeah. Me too." Very gently, he kissed her, then eased them both up off the chair, swinging Daphne around until she was sitting on his desk.
"Jack?"
"Sssh. I'm about to recreate a very famous scene from a movie." He removed her blouse and tossed it away.
"You are?"
"Yep." Her bra followed and he lifted her bottom slightly, easing her skirt up past her hips. "You know, you have one bad habit I have to get you to give up."
"What's that?"
"Wearing underwear." He rectified the situation by stripping her lace panties off her and adding them to the pile of clothing on the floor.
Daphne chuckled. "Uh-uh. Only in the car."
Jack groaned and dropped to his knees in front of her, pushing her thighs apart with his hands.
"Um...Jack? What scene is it exactly you're recreating?"
Daphne's scent swam in his nostrils as he moved in between her legs to her bare pussy.
He licked his lips.
"One of mine."
The Town Crier, Friday
Happenings about Town
A reminder to all our readers not to miss the grand reopening of the newly renovated Wildwood Theater tomorrow night. Courtesy of Mr. Jack Foster, owner of Foster Development, the Wildwood has been completely restored to her former glory, with the assistance of Daphne Littlewood, the town librarian. We note that Ms. Littlewood herself made some big changes recently---becoming Mrs. Jack Foster in a quiet ceremony at the bride's home. We offer our congratulations to both---and wish them many years of happy endings to their romance.
The Wildwood Theater is debuting with a series of classic movies, beginning with The African Queen, which Mr. Foster admits is a favorite of his. Future programs will include festivals celebrating directors, actors, themes...something for schoolchildren is also on the books, along with a Mother's Matinee.
Speaking of books, the Reader's Nook has been instituted in the lobby for patrons of the Wildwood, and Mrs. Foster assures us that if they don't wish to purchase the book on which a movie was based, she'll make sure the library has plenty of spare copies.
We here at the Town Crier applaud these public-minded citizens. Their actions have resulted in the rescue of an architectural treasure from destruction, and a new influx of entertainment options and jobs.
And speaking of public-minded citizens, we move on to a brief comment made recently by our Chief of Police. He informs our crime reporter that an investigation into the black-marketing of pirated videos has been successfully concluded by State authorities. He cited the brave resolve of local officers, and the cordial relations that were established with the Federal agencies also working on the case. Kudos to all involved.
Another example of mutual cooperation and hard work bringing a satisfactory conclusion.
Moving on to the birth announcements...
About the author:
Sahara Kelly was transplanted from old England to New England where she now lives with her husband and teenage son. Making the transition from her historical regency novels to Romantica™ has been surprisingly easy, and now Sahara can't imagine writing anything else. She is dedicated to the premise that everybody should have fantasies.
Sahara Kelly welcomes mail from readers. You can write to her c/o Ellora's Cave Publishing at P.O. Box 787, Hudson, Ohio 44236-0787.
Also available Sahara Kelly
A Kink In Her Tails
The Glass Stripper
Guardians Of Time 1: Alana's Magic Lamp
Guardians of Time 2: Finding The Zero-G Spot
The Gypsy Lovers
Hansell and Gretty
The Knights Elemental
Madam Charlie
Magnus Ravynne and Mistress Swann
Mesmerized
Mystic Visions
Partners In Passion 1: Justin and Eleanor
Partners In Passion 2: No Limits
Persephone's Wings
Peta And The Wolfe
Sizzle
The Sun God's Woman
Tales of the Beau Monde 1: Lying With Louisa
Tales of the Beau Monde 2: Miss Beatrice's Bottom
Tales of the Beau Monde 3: Lying With Louisa
Tales of the Beau Monde 4: Pleasuring Miss Poppy
Discover for yourself why readers can't get enough of the multiple award-winning publisher Ellora's Cave. Whether you prefer e-books or paperbacks, be sure to visit EC on the web at www.ellorascave.com for an erotic reading experience that will leave you breathless.

