Chemical [se]X (15 page)

“Would you like some more tea?”

“No thank you, ma’am,” he said. “I’m fine.”

And he was. Fine and strong. I stood watching him for a few minutes longer, mesmerised by the cording in his neck and the ripple of muscle across his shoulders as he swung the axe. Then, in a moment of madness, I returned to the refrigerator and pulled open the door. The gold box was still there. Of course it was. I took it out again and across to the kitchen table once more. But this time I opened it with intent.

I raised the single chocolate to my lips and took a tiny bite. Intense flavor flooded my mouth, everything I thought it would be — bitter chocolate, exotic spices and the sharp tang of an unknown liqueur. I let the morsel melt on my tongue and the flavor grew stronger, changing all the time as different spices and then the cocoa came to the fore. I felt the burn of alcohol down my throat as I swallowed.

There was no way I wasn’t going to finish that chocolate. As soon as I had taken the first bite, my crime was obvious. There would be no point in putting a half-eaten chocolate back into the box. If I had known where he had got it, I could have run out and bought a replacement while he carried on chopping wood. But I had never seen a box like that before. It certainly hadn’t come from McGrindle’s.

I bit the remaining piece of chocolate in two and started chewing. It seemed ridiculous but I already felt quite tipsy and the air in the kitchen was suddenly too warm. Swallowing the potent mixture, I sighed and went to open the screen door. I stood watching the stranger as he chopped the wood and when he noticed me standing there he gave me a broad grin.

“Go on,” he said, “finish it off.”

My cheeks suffused with color but it took no persuasion for me to pop the final piece of the chocolate into my mouth. I’d never tasted anything so delicious in all my life.

“I’m so sorry. I just couldn’t resist.”

But I wasn’t sorry at all. All I could think about was having another one. And a sudden vision sprung into my mind. The stranger feeding me chocolates, one by one, as I lay stretched on the ottoman, buck naked. Both of us.

“It’s fine, ma’am. I brought the chocolate for you.”

“For me?” I walked down the steps into the yard.

He swung the axe and embedded it into the chopping block. Then he came toward me and it crossed my mind that he looked just about as good as the chocolate had tasted.

“Perhaps you could show me where you want me to pile the wood,” he said.

“Of course,” I said.

I let him into the woodshed but I knew straight away and so did he that we weren’t going in there to look at the woodpile. The door swung shut behind us, isolating us from the small-town, sunny afternoon. The shed was dark inside, and the air was warm and stale and musky. Dust motes floated in a sharp beam of sunlight that bled through a chink in the wall.

Neither of us spoke. We stood still, silent, for at least a minute while the air cloyed around us. I could hear him breathing and I could smell his sweat, a sweet smell that flooded me with longing. I made a soft noise back of my throat and at the same instant we moved toward each other. His arms went around me and his mouth settled on mine. I felt the pressure of his tongue, working to open my lips and I yielded. Our tongues entwined. He tasted of whiskey and caramel and I must have tasted of his chocolate.

“Did you like the candy?” he whispered against my mouth.

“It made me feel…”

I didn’t know how to say it to him. He was a stranger and eating the chocolate had made me desire him. I was suddenly overcome by a longing more intense than I had experienced in years. I put my hand to his groin to see if he was hard. Of course he was, and through his pants I could feel that he’d fill me up and then some.

“It made you feel different, didn’t it?” he whispered in my ear.

I nodded.

“Not quite yourself.”

I nodded again. My hand was slowly moving against the bulge in his jeans. His hips pushed forward against me.

“Say it,” he said. “Say you want to feel me inside you.”

“Mercy!” I moaned at his ear. This wasn’t the way I was in the habit of behaving around strangers. Around men I didn’t know, who’d come into my yard to chop wood. “I want nothing more than to feel you inside me.”

Without saying another word, he lifted me up onto the wood pile. He pushed up the cotton skirt of my dress and then drew my panties down my thighs. Hard wood pressed against my back and sawdust caught in my throat. I wasn’t comfortable but I was more than ready for him. He dropped my panties onto the floor and spread my legs wide. Excitement made my hips flex and when his face dropped down to the apex of my thighs, I whimpered like a kitten.

Gently he ran a finger up between my labia and then pushed them to either side to open me up. I was wet. God, was I wet, and I heard his sharp intake of breath as his finger discovered the juices flowing out of me. He pushed deep into me, using his other hand to hold my hips steady against the wood. His tongue swooped down and I gasped, grabbing a handful of his sweat-soaked hair to push his face hard against me. His teeth pulled on my clit and the taste of the chocolate flooded my mouth again—sweet and spicy. I felt drunk and I was happy to lose myself in the warm, damp, darkness of the woodshed.

He bit and he sucked and he pierced me deeper still with his finger. Before I could do anything to hold myself back, I was coming. My muscles pulsed as they tried to pull him in further and my fingers twisted in his hair until I heard and felt his grunt of pain against my cunt. My back arched as my climax tightened its grip on me and his tongue rasping my clit intensified the sensations that swept through me.

The harsh metallic rip of his zipper made a counterpoint to my breathy sobs. Then he lifted his head from between my legs and clambered up onto the woodpile, looming over me as I still writhed on his finger. He quickly replaced it with the blunt end of his cock. I raised my hips and spread my legs wider than ever—but it felt to me like he’d be too big to fit inside.

He kissed my cheek. “This will hurt,” he said, “but only for a minute. Then…”

“Do it,” I said, hoarse, panting.

He pushed several fingers into me, opening me further, spreading my juices onto the end of his cock. Then he positioned himself once more at my entrance. He gasped—he couldn’t hold back any longer and pushed inside. I stretched and stretched to accommodate him—burning pain, the sensation of being split in two. But he pulled back a little and the friction set me on fire. Slowly, slowly, he ground in and out of me, and as he did the acute pain turned to pleasure, burning, exquisite pleasure.

His movements gradually became faster and he was able to push deeper with each thrust. My body molded around him and he ripped open the front of my dress. His mouth came to my breast, his teeth tugged at my nipple. Pain collided with pain in a starburst of long-denied want, need, desire, pleasure…hot, hot, hot, sexual sensation ripping through me. My torso was drenched with sweat and I convulsed underneath him. He came hard and fast, drilling himself into me as his body went rigid, rearing up above me as a throaty growl escaped from behind his gritted teeth.

When the sweat had dried on our bodies and the wood had become too uncomfortable to lie on, we slowly got up and rearranged our clothes. He picked up my panties and held them for me to step into.

“Will I see you again?”

He shook his head. “Never. But you won’t forget me.”

He was right. Sex had never been like that before.

But was it him or was the chocolate?

I’ve no way of knowing. But I do know chocolate sales have gone up at McGrindle’s. And I’m still lying on my ottoman with a damp flannel across my forehead.

Coffee Break

Oleander Plume

I tried to convince my trembling legs that the doorbell I was about to ring belonged to the mayor of a moderately large city, and not the president of the fucking United States. My body refused to listen and my knees kept clacking together.

“Holy shit, my palms are sweating.”

“Lighten up, Ryan, it’s the mayor’s house, not the White House.”

“Dude, the way you read my mind all the time is kind of creepy. How do you do that?”

“We’ve been working together almost every day for five years, I know you better than you know yourself.” Zak reached over and pinched my ass. “Just like I know you’re secretly gay.”

“I am not gay.”

“Yes, you are.” Zak leaned in close and put his lips to my ear. “Someday, you’re going to let me suck your dick.”

“The fuck I am.”

I punched the doorbell, but before I could even attempt to compose myself, the heavy door swung inward, and Grant Kingman, the mayor of Brookdale, was standing there. I was taken aback for two reasons. One, I expected a butler, or at least a personal assistant to answer the door. Two, I found him even more handsome in person, and that kind of confused me.

“You boys must be here to put up the wainscoting in the dining room.” His dazzling smile caused my stomach to do some weird fluttery thing. More confusion.

“Hi, um, yeah I’m Ryan, and this is Zak. Combined were RZ Construction.” I shook his hand. Damn, the man smelled expensive and his hair was perfect.

“Come on in, I’ll show you where you’ll be working. I had the room cleared out so you can set up your equipment right there.”

The house wasn’t a mansion, but it was pretty damn close. Decorated in a masculine style, you could still spot feminine touches all around; which made me wonder if we’d get to meet the Mayor’s hot young wife, Veronica.

“Here’s your blank canvas, gentlemen. I have a few things I need to take care of before I head over to the office, I’ll talk to you again before I leave.”

Once he was out of earshot, I nudged Zak with my elbow. “Think Veronica is up there, sleeping naked? Maybe after he leaves, we can take a little peeky boo.”

“How can you say shit like ‘peeky boo’ and claim you’re not gay?”

“How can you be gay and mock me for saying things like ‘peeky boo’?”

“I keep telling you, I’m not gay, I’m pansexual.”

“And I still think that’s a word you made up to make me feel stupid.”

Zak rolled his eyes at me and stomped outside to the truck. I kept quiet and stayed out of his way, all the while feeling like shit for pissing him off again. A few months prior, he tried to explain his sexual identity to me, but I couldn’t wrap my brain around the concept. Gay I could understand, but the other thing? Nope, too complicated. He claimed my confusion was brought about by the fact that I was an ignorant dick head with homophobic tendencies.

I tried to argue with him, because I’m not anti gay in any way, shape or form, but when he threw more big words at me, like “genderqueer” and “omnisexual”, my brain turned to mush like it did back in Spanish 101. No matter how much time I spent in her class, I could never understand what the hell Senora Lopez was saying, any more than I could understand Zak. He made me feel stupid, which I hate, so I ended up spouting out something completely idiotic.

“Whatever blows your dress up dude, I don’t really care. But a lady with a dick? Or a dude without one? That’s too weird for me.”

Our friendship almost came to an end; we even considered dissolving the business, but when the Mayor’s job offer came along, we did our best to patch things up. Things were going great, until I stuck my foot in my mouth again, because, apparently, I really am an ignorant dick head.

We had just finished hauling in the last of the lumber, when Mayor Kingman strolled into the room, whistling while adjusting his tie. Everything about the man shouted sophistication and charm, and the rumors were already flying that he would make his way to the White House in about ten years. The idea that I might be remodeling the dining room of a future president made my balls tingle.

“You know, boys, I saw the work you did for Dr. Jacobson. The craftsmanship was so impeccable, I expected the both of you to be much older.”

“I’ve been doing construction for twelve years, I started helping my dad when I was fourteen,” I said. “But Zak here is the real master. He uses a coping saw like a surgeon.”

Zak beamed. “It’s all in the coping, that’s how you get such tight joints.”

“Well, I’m happy to have you here.” He checked his watch. “My driver is probably waiting outside. Feel free to eat whatever you can find in the fridge, there are sandwiches in there and some incredible pasta salad my wife made before she left. I also left the coffee maker on, so if you need a java fix, help yourself.”

“Thank you, sir, we really appreciate that.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “Boy, I hope we won’t wake up Mrs. Mayor with all our sawing and hammering.”

“Veronica is out of town for a few days, so make all the noise you want. You have the entire house to yourselves.” He winked at us before walking away, and I noticed Zak checking out the Mayor’s ass.

“Mmm, I could so tap that.”

“I’m disappointed his wife isn’t around. I’ll bet she wears yoga pants and goes bra less.”

Zak nodded in approval. “Yup, I could tap her, too.”

I guess I looked confused, because he patted me on the head. “What was that for?”

“Don’t hurt yourself trying to figure me out. Let’s get to work.”

We always measure twice, then a third time before we make any cuts, because perfect isn’t good enough for us. The job order was complex; Georgian paneled wainscoting topped by an ornate chair rail. To make the project even trickier, we had to factor in a bay window. Around 10:30, my brain got fuzzy and all the angles started to look the same.

“I need a cup of coffee as big as my head.”

“Yeah, same here.” Zak followed me to the kitchen, which was outfitted with every high end appliance known to mankind. “Holy hell, they even have a flat screen in here. Who does shit like that?”

“Rich people.” I examined the coffee machine. “My mom has one of these, all you do is open this doohickey, and drop the little cup in. After you press the handle down, coffee comes out here.” I glanced around at the gleaming counter tops. “Where do you suppose they keep the coffee thingys?”