“Don’t worry about what I’m getting, Julia. I promise that it’s worth it.” Mark opens the car door and helps me to my own car. Guiding me gently by the arm, he places me in the front seat of my vehicle. A little smile escapes his lips as I yelp when the seat hits my sore bottom. He promises to call me and steals away as quickly as he appeared.
I drive home in a haze, lucky the hour is late and the traffic is low. The stretch of lifting myself out of the car and walking into my apartment is almost more than I can bear. My body is empty of all its strength, and my mind is full of questions.
What did he mean “Holy Grail”? How can someone fuck me so hard then kiss me so gently? Am I a toy or am I his lover? Is he my savior or is he my friend with benefits? Where do we go from here?
~~~
I drop into bed after a shower and although I’m sore and swollen I feel so full and wonderful inside. Never in my life could I imagine myself allowing a man to speak to me as Mark did, and I certainly have never offered anyone the kind of service I willingly gave him. It’s all a puzzle to me.
The number is 555-555-5555.
It’s an old reporter trick, of course. Pretty much anyone in publishing, news or secret keeping knows how to set their phone up to register the 555 number as a way of masking their identity. I was taught the trick in college as were most of my staff and friends. So, whoever sent me this message wants to be anonymous. Let’s see what they have to say.
Flicking the screen with my thumb I chose the little text icon and the spinning circle appears for just a second before the message shows up on my phone. A chill goes down my spine and I am suddenly wide awake. There are four words on my screen.
“Do Not Trust Him.”
Sign up for my mailing list to find out when the next part of The Sandstone Affair is released!
http://eepurl.com/sH7wn
Email me!
westerotica@gmail.com