Last week I treated you to a couple of excerpts from my forthcoming novella, Mind Matters, Book 1: Confusion. On Monday, you got a sneak peek at the cover. Today I’m rolling out an entire chapter filled with delight such as: group sex, fetish costume play, mystery, and (of course) confusion. Gee, with all this revealing, do you think I’m a bit of an exhibitionist?
Look for the full novella on Smashwords on June 28.
The week between visits went swiftly. Megan noticed a drop in the number of cigarettes she was smoking. She couldn’t, however, account for the strange lapses in time or the odd white stains that seemed to appear mysteriously on her clothing, face and hair.
One evening, Megan returned home from an overzealous bargain hunt. Thrift store bargains flowed beyond the borders of their bags. The contents were almost more than Megan could handle. They were certainly more than she could see above or around. She awkwardly manhandled her treasure down the hallway, unable to notice the blond man backing out of Apartment 2. He didn’t see her, either. An explosion of clothes, keys and coffee sent the two rebounding off the narrow walls. Apologies flew between them as they scrambled about on hands and knees gathering up the debris. The chaos subsided and they stood to face each other. Megan stared deeply into his piercing blue eyes.
“Thanks for helping me pick all this up,” Megan said.
“Sorry again for not watching where I was going,” the tall man replied.
“It’s not your fault I can’t say no to a deal,” Megan explained. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t be coming home with bags piled to the ceiling and I wouldn’t be a danger to myself and others.”
“No harm done,” the stranger said. “Just a little spilt coffee on my end.”
“I’m Megan,” she said, offering her hand. “I’m sorry I spilt coffee on your end.”
He laughed. “Andrew,” he responded, shaking her hand.
“You must’ve just moved in,” Megan observed.
“Yes. Have you lived here long?”
“Almost three years. I’m in Number 4 down the hall.”
“Well, Megan from 4, it’s nice to meet you. I was just going to check my mail. Would you like to step in for a cup of coffee? I seem to be wearing mine.”
“I glanced at the box on the way in and didn’t see anything.”
“Great. That saves me the trip. I guess it’s too soon to be expecting anything, anyway. Coffee?” Andrew smiled and Megan felt her knees begin to wobble.
“Let me just drop these at my place and I’ll be right back,” she said.
“I’ll be here,” Andrew replied as he stepped inside his apartment.
Megan hefted one of the over-stuffed bags and dragged the other behind, working her way down the hall. She opened her apartment door, backing in so she could pull the door shut behind her. Megan twisted her knuckles around the fabric of the bag on the ground, turned and lifted.
Shock jolted her. This was not her apartment.
Middle-aged men, obviously well to do, sat upon richly upholstered high-back leather chairs. Dark mahogany end tables held brandy snifters and ashtrays. An impressive stone fireplace crackled with life.
Megan moved as if pushing through liquid, still gaping in disbelief. Her eyes wandered about the room in a daze.
A portly gentleman with greying hair motioned to her.
Megan started towards him. The feel of her stockings caused her to pause. Wait. Stockings? Silk stockings? How did I…? She looked down along the black and white maid’s outfit, down the black stockings, and stopped at the shiny stilettos on her feet. Her fingers crept up slowly to acknowledge the lacy covering nesting atop her crown. She swallowed hard and felt a thin satiny band encircling her neck.
“Come here, girl,” the round man said to Megan, waving an empty glass at her.
Megan attempted to walk again, the tails of her apron tickling her legs. With each step, a creeping horror began to drill itself deeper into her consciousness. Her skirt was exactly the length of her torso. Any movement at all caused it to rise, giving the whole room full view of her hind quarters. She attempted to tug on the hem to make the dress longer and realised she was not wearing panties.
Megan blanched. Her head shot back and forth, eyes scanning for an exit, some way to escape this humiliating scene. She spied the French doors at one end of the room and attempted to dash. Running proved to be a problem in pinpoint heels on a hardwood floor. She skidded to a stop in front of two fierce Dobermans guarding the doors. She stood facing the dogs. Footsteps approached from behind. One set, then another set, and another, and another, until she could sense a group of men staring at her.
“Megan,” they murmured to her. “We want you. We need you.” A multitude of warm hands stroked her body, gliding gently up, down, and around her legs. Tender lips pressed into her neck and inner thighs. Mouths sucked and tongues flicked.
Her eyes fluttered, the overwhelming pleasure causing her to succumb. Moans emanated from deep within her throat, muffled by the ever more deeply probing mouths. Airborne, with legs locked over unknown shoulders, Megan pressed her lower lips against the lavish languid lashings liquefying her loins. Her body tensed and shuddered as climax after climax tore through her.
“Can I get up now?” Andrew’s soft voice intruded on her thoughts.
Megan bolted upright in her seat. Her cheeks stuck to the yellow plastic of the chair. “What? How…? Where are my pants?” Megan blurted. She glanced nervously about the tiny apartment.
“You arrived without them,” Andrew informed her. “You just barged through the door and grabbed me hard by the nuts. I dropped to my knees. You jumped onto my shoulders and crushed your crotch into my face.”
Megan could feel her face flush.
“Then you started kicking me in the ribs with your heels, like you were spurring a horse, until I started licking you down there. Any time I tried to stop, you just started banging on me again. I finally managed to get you over to that chair so I could get you off my shoulders.”
Megan curled her hands against her chest and looked anywhere but at Andrew. Tears welled up and rushed down her face. “I’m so sorry, Andrew. I– I–”
Andrew knelt before her and lightly grasped her hands. “It’s okay,” he said soothingly.
“No,” she cried. “It’s not okay. I– I don’t know what’s going on with me.”
“Are you prone to this sort of behaviour?”
“Then what’s wrong?” Andrew smiled at her, stroking the tears from her cheeks.
Blinking wildly, she rested her eyes on his. “I think I’m going mental,” she confessed.
“Pushing your way into a stranger’s home and forcing them to perform oral sex on you isn’t exactly normal, no,” Andrew said. “But I kind of liked it. At least you were ‘fresh’ down there.”
Megan issued a sputtering laugh and sniffed. “Just don’t call me Eve.” She spied a mug on the round, red table beside her. “Is that coffee?” she asked in a small voice.
“Freshly brewed,” Andrew answered calmly.
“It smells wonderful.”
“I’ll get you a cup.” He stood and began to move away from her.
She grabbed his sleeve. “Andrew?”
“My legs are cold.”
“Let me grab my robe.”
“What are you going to do with rope?” Megan frowned.
“Not rope. Robe. Row-buh,” Andrew said, exaggerating the pronunciation. He left her momentarily, returning with an oversized, blue terrycloth bathrobe. “Wrap yourself up in this.”
“Thanks,” Megan said, snuggling into the soft, thick folds of material. She nestled her nose deep into it. “English Leather?”
“Yes, it is,” Andrew said with an expression of surprise.
“I like it,” Megan told him, accepting the cup he had brought. “Thanks.” She took a sip and placed it on the table beside his. “Um, I was wondering if I could ask you a favour.”
“What would that be?”
“It’s going to sound crazy,” Megan said, picking up the mug again and downing another mouthful.
“Crazier than busting into my place without any pants on?”
“Okay, not that crazy.”
“What is it?”
“Would you come with me to my apartment and make sure it is my apartment?”
“Uh, sure,” Andrew said with a quizzical look.
They finished their drinks in relative silence and made their way down the hall to Number 4. Megan cautiously slipped her key into the lock, opened the door and jumped back so the wall containing the opening was behind her.
Andrew poked his head inside Megan’s flat and exclaimed, “Oh my god!”
“What? What is it?” Megan gasped.
“What a mess,” Andrew said, pulling his head back out.
“It’s not a department store?”
Andrew looked at her funny.
“It’s not a room full of older men?”
Andrew laughed and shook his head.
“Then it really is my apartment.” Megan sighed. She stepped across the threshold and nearly tripped over the bags of clothes she had hauled home earlier. “And it’s not that messy. This is just as far as I got with…” Her voice trailed off. She had turned to look at Andrew, but he was gone.
Guess he was in a hurry to get away. Megan shrugged. Panic gripped her. She slowly looked down along the length of her body to see she was still wearing the outfit she had come home in. Fuck! Where are my smokes? She sank onto her bed, fidgeting with her lighter. A glance at the cat clock made her wonder, Is that the time? What have I been doing?