Calendar Girl

Published by Accent Press Ltd – 2010
ISBN 9781907016974

Copyright © Sommer Marsden 2010

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be copied, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, electrostatic, magnetic tape, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the written permission of the publishers: Xcite Books, Suite 11769, 2nd Floor, 145-157 St John Street, London EC1V 4PY

The stories contained within this book are works of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the authors' imaginations and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Other books by Sommer Marsden

To the Man. Of course.

They are all for him.

Because he gets me.

Forever and ever, amen. XOXO

Acknowledgements

For The Man, boy child and girl child – always – for living with me day in day out. And putting up with my lunacy. For Alison Tyler for being at the other end of this enormously long but cosy pod. I can’t think of a better pea to be my twin. For Haven for reading chunks of work when I randomly send him something and say, ‘Does this suck?’ (and for not choking me to death when I do it too often in any given day). For Scarlett for always reading my work and giving my ego generous coats of buff and shine. And for the people who take the time to read me and then come back and read me again. I love them, truly, and they make my job the sunniest, happiest job ever.

Prologue

I
HAD EXPECTED
a lot of things out of my marriage but this hadn’t been one. When I walked into to my home that Thursday before Christmas, I was expecting maybe a London Broil for dinner. Maybe a bit of whipped potato on the side, a nice Merlot, a foot rub, a hot shower and maybe, if Drake was in the mood, a good stiff roll in the hay. Orgasms made the best stocking stuffers I thought.

What I found was Drake rolling in the hay with the trainer from our gym. And judging by the look of their roll, stiff had definitely been an appropriate adjective.

‘What. The. Fuck?’ It’s all I remembered saying. And then I dropped my shopping bags, the gorgeous cobalt blue wine glasses I had just bought for my mother tinkled merrily as they cracked and crazed in the designer bag.

‘Merritt! It’s not what it looks like,’ Drake stammered.

‘Not at all, Mrs Evans,’ Ted the trainer gasped. Ted trained us at the local gym and he was the coach/Phys Ed teacher at the local high school. But that was neither here nor there considering the circumstances.

Their
not what it looks like
was a hard sell when you’re standing there buck naked rubbing your dicks together.

Because I have a friend of a friend who’s a judge, I was divorced by New Year’s Day.

‘What you need, Merritt, my dear, is a long line of men who will treat you like the sex goddess you are. They will whip you, tie you up, bang you, spoil you and make you have so many luscious orgasms you’ll turn into a veritable pile of girl goo!’ Jeffrey said and covered my eyes with cucumber slices.

‘I hear ya,’ I sighed. The world turned cool and mildly green and I let my head hit the back of the overstuffed pink chair in his front room.

‘You need a whirlwind of a year full of men and fucking and men and good dinners and did I say men?’

I heard him settle into the twin of my chair and give his own sigh of relief. ‘You sound more excited about these men than I do,’ I said. Every time I closed my eyes I saw my husband rubbing his appendage against our trainer’s equipment. I snatched the cucumbers off my eyes and stared at the ceiling. ‘And it wouldn’t have been so bad if ... ’

Jeffrey is impatient but he gave me three whole seconds. ‘If?’

‘If he’d pulled me into it. If it had been me
plus
Ted. Me in addition to Ted. Ted and Merritt and Drake,’ I whispered.

Jeffrey pulled his own cucumbers off and rolled his eyes. ‘But it was just Ted. Not
and
or
with
or
in addition to
. And it blows,’ he said, sitting up, pouring us some orange juice with a healthy dose of champagne in it. We were having a girls’ pamper party, only I was the only official
girl
.

‘It blows,’ I echoed, taking the offered glass.

‘You need that year. A different guy each month. Just fun and fucking and feasting,’ Jeffrey said, his eyes glazing over as he plotted.

I had to admit to being a tiny bit mesmerized when Jeffrey slams into evil genius mode.

‘I could go for all those ‘f’s,’ I admitted.

Jeffrey started to hum. He paused, took a swig from his foamy orange drink and stood. Then more humming. ‘You need to be a calendar girl,’ he said, giving me jazz hands.

I rolled my eyes. ‘Yeah? How so? A pin-up?’

‘No. A different guy every month. No strings. No effort. And absolutely
no expectations
.’ More humming.

‘How much have you had to drink?’ Despite the snarky words, a small buzz of excitement started in my belly. Like a flock of butterflies on speed.

Jeffrey started singing full throttle and I jumped. ‘January! He’ll start the year off fine. February, he can be a naked Valentine.’

I snorted and almost choked on my drink, but I started humming with him. Clapping wildly as he pranced around his living room like a prize pony. ‘Sing it!’

‘March! Make them line up in single file!’

‘Oh my God.’

‘April, Easter’s coming, wear just a smile!’

I started hooting. Clearly, we were insane.

‘May! He can never meet your dad and mom! June!’

‘Maybe a three-way with Jim and Tom,’ I blurted.

Jeffrey paused. ‘
Nice
, Slutty McSlutterson.’

I blushed, swigged my drink and he barrelled on, grinning. ‘July! Like a firecracker you will go, um ... August! Big O’s on the beach will make you glow.’

‘As if,’ I said, but loved the idea to be honest.

‘September, light the candles for the sexing scene. October–’

‘Be the naughty nurse on Halloween!’ I shouted

‘Oh, bend over big boy,’ Jeffrey said, jumping on an ottoman and starting a mad showgirl kick. ‘November! You’ll give thanks for one and two and three ... ’

‘December, all the rest naked under my tree!’ I jumped on the other ottoman. ‘Yeah, yeah, my heart’s in a whirl.’

‘’Cause you’re the slutty little calendar girl,’ Jeffrey sang. ‘Every day, every day of the year!’

Dead. Silence.

‘I think Paul Ankah just rolled over in his grave,’ I whispered.

‘It was Neil Sedaka, sweetheart,’ Jeffrey said and helped me down. ‘And he’s not dead.’

‘Too bad for him,’ I took the fresh drink he offered.

‘We won’t tell him. Now, cheers! Cheers to a year of the three ‘f’s. Fun, feasting and fucking. No strings. No love. Just tons of sex and good times and a clearing of your head. To you, Calendar Girl.’

‘To me!’ I toasted him and we drank on it.

Chapter One

‘W
HAT IS SHAKING
, sweet thing?’ Jeffrey leaned in and kissed me on the cheek. His normally cocoa brown lips were a pearlescent pink.

‘Are you wearing ... lipstick?’

‘Gloss,’ he corrected. He straightened his deep mauve pinstriped shirt and shot his cuffs. ‘I have to look my best for the bevy of beauties that Marilee promised me.’

I scoped the room. There were an awful lot of pretty, well-dressed, well-groomed men in the room. I was either surrounded by a sea of metrosexuals or Marilee had spiked her post New Year party with some yummy gay men. ‘Looks like you’ve got your pick.’ My cell buzzed and I reached into the pocket of my long brown velvet skirt and pressed the button. Fast.

‘What’s that about? And what is this? This is yummy. You look like someone dipped you in chocolate and you just need a hungry man to lick you clean.’

‘You are the dirtiest person ever,’ I said, eyeing the readout.

‘True. But you know it sounds good.’

I smiled, kissed him again. He smelled like cinnamon and cloves. ‘Yes, it does sound good, but I have yet to find even one of these fabulous, fuckable, flirtatious men you told me about last week.’

‘Don’t worry. There’s one here.’ Jeffrey poured himself a punch and topped mine off. ‘Seriously, girl. Where’d you get the skirt?’

‘
Used and Abused.
’

‘Thrift wear!’ Jeffrey clutched his broad, hard chest and feigned a swoon.

‘Shh!’ I grabbed his arm. ‘Tell me it is not the most gorgeous velvet skirt ever.’

He fingered my skirt and I blushed. When Jeffrey touched your clothes it was almost like a molestation of fabric. ‘It is pretty spanking fine,’ he admitted.

My phone buzzed again and I killed it instantly.

‘Who is it? Is it that fucktard Drake?’ He frowned and I saw the menace my best friend was capable of. Lip-gloss or not, Jeffrey was six feet, three inches of lean, mean, black man. And he did not like people fucking with his friends. He’d kick your ass, steal your gloss and wear your Jimmy Choos home after the fight.

‘No. My mom. Now about that guy. How can you tell he’s here? Is it your sixth sense?’ I snorted.

Jeffrey is a go-go dancer in an all male review and on the side, he’s a psychic. A very, very fake psychic.

‘I can smell him. I don’t need a sixth sense. I just need one of the original five. Someone in this room is wearing Drakaar.’

‘And?’

‘And only a straight boy would do that.’

I rolled my eyes and silenced my phone for the third time. Jeffrey snatched it before I could wrestle it away. ‘It’s your mom!’

‘I know. I just said that! And it’s why I am
not
answering it.’

Marilee was making her way over, her big, fuzzy sweater that sported a penguin hugging a polar bear was probably visible from space. Jeffrey shivered at the sight and I followed suit. ‘Eegads.’

‘Why? Why is Moms calling? Quick! Before she hits.’

‘Hey, y’all. Give me big hugs,’ Marilee called, waving madly as if we were at a huge festival instead of in her living room.

‘Something with Jack. I don’t know. She gets me on and she goes on and on and on but never tells me what is actually wrong. I am lacking the emotional fortitude to deal with it anymo–’

I got cut off by a fluffy warm woman in a fluffy warm sweater who smelled like eggnog and oddly, Old Spice. ‘Oh, my God. You look fab. Have you lost weight?’

‘A little,’ I admitted, suddenly feeling deflated. I had lost weight. Since Drake.

‘Enough of that, enough,’ Jeffrey stepped in, hugging Marilee to him. ‘How are you, my ripe little plum?’

Marilee giggled and turned a smashing shade of plum to match her nickname. One of the few women who adored being a bit plump, I said more power to her. And she really was adorable. ‘Sorry, Merritt,’ she mouthed over Jeffrey’s shoulder as he squeezed her so hard she turned as red as her festive tablecloth.

I waved her off. Shook my head. ‘No worries,’ I whispered.

I was lying, but we’d call it a day. I reached for a chip and aimed for the dip. Where my knuckles banged painfully hard with another, bigger set. ‘Damn it all to he–’

He had grabbed my hand and was wiping dip off with a red paper napkin. ‘Sorry about that, I didn’t mean to–’

Then he looked at me, I mean really looked at me and he smiled. Really smiled. And I had a hard time swallowing. There was something lodged in my throat; judging by the feel of it, it was my stomach. And it was full of butterflies.

Tall and fair haired, big brown eyes, just the most fashionable spattering of stubble. He rocked his crisp white shirt, his dark grey trousers and even the fancy-schmancy black leather loafers. He smiled, showing me white teeth just crooked enough to make the smile adorable.

‘I am so ...’

‘So?’

I blinked. That little shiver shake in my belly and much lower had not appeared for ages. After Drake I never thought it would. I shook my head. He was still holding my hand. ‘Sorry?’ I asked.

‘Don’t be. My fault. Ham handed and all.’ He wiped my hand again but there was nothing to wipe.

Jeffrey had set Marilee on her plump little feet and was slinking close. I watched him, nervous and on the verge of giggling inappropriately. He leaned in, his big black shaved head coming close to the man’s throat, his nose almost touching and then he snorted in a huge sniff like he was smelling wine at a tasting. His brown eyes found mine and he grinned. ‘Drakaar. Told ya,’ He laughed.

Still holding my hand, the hunk turned and looked at me quizzically. ‘I’m sorry?’

‘Oh, child, don’t be sorry.’ Jeffrey backed up and eyed the cutie’s butt. ‘Do not be sorry
at all
.’

I hung my head. What a mess.

The phone beeped again and Jeffrey snatched it away, doing a wild ballet leap through the crowd to keep me from grabbing it back. ‘You two get acquainted, I’ll talk to Moms!’

I looked at the heart-throb. ‘Shit.’

‘That’s not language befitting a beautiful woman,’ the hunk said. In that one sentence I felt mildly scolded and stroked all at once. Instinctively, I wanted to do better.

‘I mean, “Hi, I’m Merritt”.’

‘Hi, Merritt. I’m Stefan and I work with Marilee’s man, John.’

I nodded, staring at his mouth. It was full and red and when he spoke I got flashes of white teeth and pink tongue and I wondered, for the span of three heartbeats what that mouth would feel like on me. What his fingers would feel like holding my thighs open as he pressed his tongue to my –

‘Are you in there, Merritt?’ Stefan had leaned in so that a bare inch of air separated us. ‘Where did you go in your pretty head?’

I sure as hell couldn’t tell him the truth. Right? I shook my head. ‘Sorry. I have a tiny bit of stress, I guess I was wool gathering.’

Stefan took my wrist in his hand. A hand so big my arm looked small in his grip. ‘I think you went to a very dirty place,’ he said, leaning in so that we looked to be talking but his lips pressed to the hair that fell across my ear and cheek.

I had been warm, stuffed in the room with tons of sweater-clad people, but that fast, I had a shiver and I made a small noise I’d never heard come out of me before. ‘I ... well, yeah. I did have just a flash of ...’

‘Maybe we should go upstairs? I heard that Marilee and John redid the guest room. I did promise to go and spot their handiwork before I left. Would you like a tour?’ The way he said tour and then smiled made the skin around his eyes crinkle just enough to make me feel like I was being turned inside out.

‘Yes?’ I breathed. I mean, was I really going to do this? Was I? It was one thing to prance around Jeffrey’s living room and have him act like Gladys Knight to my Pips but ...

Speak of the Jeffrey, he came surging at me through the crowd holding my shiny silver phone aloft and trilling, ‘I talked to Moms. Turns out your brother’s gay!’

I turned to Stefan. ‘I’d love a tour. Hurry.’

Stefan wasn’t huge but he was strong. I found it out when he spun me just inside the door. My big velvet skirt swirled around me like some movie heroine and I gasped. Such a girl.

‘I like it in here with you. I like the way you feel,’ he said. His grin reminded me of the Big Bad Wolf, only I was more than willing, in this instance, to be Little Red.

‘How I feel?’

He slipped his hand under my skirt, rubbing the skin right above my high lace-up leather boots. I had been going for prairie goddess meets leather chick. I held my breath, little vines of pleasure skittering up my thighs, wrapping around and around and around my legs to spread tendrils of anticipation to my pussy.

‘Most people would say your vibe. But I don’t do vibes,’ he said. His mouth came down on mine and I could taste the mild red wine he’d been drinking and a spice I couldn’t place. His tongue bullied mine until I simply sank into the kiss and let him have his way with my mouth.

‘What is my vibe?’

His fingers and found their way higher, his thumb stroking whispering arcs across my hosiery. I heard his touch murmuring conspiratorially in the near dark room. A small electric candle glowed in the window and when Stefan pushed the button to lock the door, the snapping lock seemed so loud in the near silence. ‘Eager, willing, kind, a bit flighty.’

I thought about balking, but kept kissing him instead. Plus, his fingers had found the elastic of my grey satin panties and he was rubbing what felt like a line of fire along my skin. All I wanted in the world was for that finger to breach the elastic and slip inside of me. Work me from the inside out until I came. ‘Pretty on the mark.’

I realised I wasn’t touching him at all. I was just standing there being touched. Drinking it in, soaking it in, hell, scooping it up to save for later. No one had touched me since the last time Drake and I had made love and that seemed like a million years and one broken heart ago. I found his slacks with my hand, rubbing a tentative circle on the charcoal grey slacks, felt his cock jump to meet my seeking palm. The joy in my heart at feeling his want of me was nearly overwhelming. I made another little noise.

‘Do you like that?’ Stefan asked, pushing himself into my palm. Pinning my hand between my belly and his erection. I curled my fingers just a bit, chewed my lip, the blush in my cheeks felt like warm brick in the sun.

‘Yes. A lot. It’s been a while since a man ...’ I didn’t let myself analyse. I worked the one button with shaking fingers and when I went for the zipper, he stilled my hand.

‘Since a man?’

I looked up. I could only see the dark shine of his eyes in the meagre light. He was smiling and again I got that emotional waft of a kind cruelty from the way he looked. Like a man who could be not so nice but in the best possible way. ‘Touched me, wanted me ... fucked me? Take your pick,’ I admitted softly.

Stefan nodded as if I had passed a test and he pinned my roaming hand to the wall, pushing his hard-on to the place where my skirt now draped around my hips. He faux-fucked me until I felt like the air in the room was thin and hot and then he said, ‘Don’t move, Merritt. Stay right there.’

The pearl buttons of my demure white blouse came undone for him one by one, shiny little white sluts under his fingers. He raised my skirt like the skirt of some dainty dancer and simply said, ‘Hold it. Just like that.’ So I did, while he pushed my panties low and told me to step free.

I stood in my thigh high hose and my laced up boots, skirt raised like a can-can dancer and watched as he extended his hand and touched me. I tried to move my hand to touch him back and he shook his head. I stopped, clutching my skirt high to my waist.

His fingers disappeared inside of me. One and then two and finally, after a frozen moment where I felt five heartbeats in my neck, he pushed a third finger into me. We both watched, transfixed as he fucked me with his fingers, my back flush to the door. I could hear the muffled, muted party below and I even heard Jeffrey’s big booming voice echo through the house. But I was too busy to truly note it. I was too busy letting this stranger get me off as he stroked my g-spot like he’d done it a thousand times before.

‘That’s it. Come for me. Are you going to come for me, Merritt?’

I could only nod because the air I could draw was rushing into my lungs as my knees loosened and my belly tightened and I bit my tongue to keep quiet, coming with my skirt held up like some fairytale princess. I shook in the shadow of his body as he leaned over me.

‘I did.’ I sounded proud.

‘I know,’ he grinned again and that lupine quality was back. My belly did a long, lazy roll like I was on an amusement park ride and he leaned in to kiss my neck. ‘Stay. Stay right there.’

I stayed.

He pulled open a drawer and withdrew a small silver wrapper. Candy? No. A condom.

‘How did you–’

‘Lucky for me, John likes to brag about all his riotous sex with Marilee,’ he chuckled. ‘All through the house. He practically gave me a road map.’ As he talked, softly and gently like I was a spooked horse, he dropped his trousers, his boxers and rolled the condom on. He looked like a shadow man in the electric candle’s mild glow. ‘Still ready for me, Merritt?’ Before I could answer, he boldly tested me with his fingers again and I shuddered under his touch.

‘Yes. I think I am.’

‘More than ready.’ Stefan stepped in, pinning me with his upper body. ‘Hook your legs around my waist,’ he ordered and then kissed me. I did it.

I locked my legs around his waist, feeling him press the tip of his cock to me and then slip effortlessly inside me to fill me and stretch me as he thrust. My head buzzed with the goodness of it. My body gripped up around him and I held his shoulders in my hands to steady myself.

His teeth came down on my throat, gently at first, and then harder as he fucked me to the cold, unforgiving plaster wall. Someone whooped with laughter down in the party and I sounded like their sultry echo as I cried out, right on the slippery verge of coming again.

‘Bonus orgasm?’ he whispered. ‘I’m so glad we met. I like the way you sound when you come.’

I came.

‘And how you feel.’ His voice was darker, more clipped and his hips slammed into me over and over again, until he said, ‘Open your mouth.’