Intermission
Authors: Desiree Holt
Intermission
by Desiree Holt
Total-e-bound
www.total-e-bound.com
Copyright ©2009 by Desiree Holt
First published in 2009
NOTICE: This eBook is licensed to the original purchaser
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Intermission
by Desiree Holt
* * * *
Intermission
by Desiree Holt
A Total-E-Bound Publication
* * * *
www.total-e-bound.com
* * * *
ISBN # 978-1-907280-52-8
(C)Copyright Desiree Holt 2009
Cover Art by Lyn Taylor (C)Copyright November 2009
Edited by Michele Paulin
Total-E-Bound Publishing
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events
are from the author's imagination and should not be confused
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Intermission
by Desiree Holt
with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events
or places is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be
reproduced in any material form, whether by printing,
photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written
permission of the publisher, Total-E-Bound Publishing.
Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in
writing, to Total-E-Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or
restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil
proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.
The author and illustrator have asserted their respective
rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as
amended) to be identified as the author of this book and
illustrator of the artwork.
Published in 2009 by Total-E-Bound Publishing 1 The
Corner, Faldingworth Road, Spridlington, Market Rasen,
Lincolnshire, LN8 2DE, UK.
* * * *
This book contains sexually explicit content
which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has been
rated
Total-e-melting.
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Intermission
by Desiree Holt
INTERMISSION
* * * *
* * * *
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by Desiree Holt
Dedication
* * * *
* * * *
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Chapter One
* * * *
approaching drought conditions. Lisa Graham, looking at a
perfect cerulean sky through her office window, sympathised
with the people who were nurturing lawns or raising cattle.
They certainly needed the rain. But not as desperately as she
did. Six weeks without a drop of moisture and she was so
horny she could get herself off just by rubbing her cunt back
and forth on the seat of her office chair.
It was the damn bar. Or pub. Or whatever a place like
Interlude
called itself. She'd taken refuge there during a
stormy night when her car was in the shop and cabs were
scarce. All she'd been looking for was a drink or two to take
the edge off her nerves after a piss-poor day. Instead, she'd
found the sexiest stranger who was pure sin walking and
found herself having sex in public.
Something had happened to her that night, almost as if a
stranger had entered her body. A powerful lust that
apparently had been buried deep inside her all these years
had burst forth like a raging beast, consuming her, until now
it seemed it occupied her every waking moment. And many of
her dreams, as well.
Even now as she thought about it, a flush consumed her
body and she had to fan her face. Oh, the very naughty
things they'd done, she and sexy Mark. She thought of the
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waiter who'd once joined them, and another wave of heat
rolled over her. Then, on the only subsequent visit to
Interlude,
Mark and Damon, the owner, had taken her into
the very private back room where she'd indulged in erotic
fantasies she hadn't even known lived at the back of her
mind.
But damn! The fucking place only showed up when it
rained. And how weird was that?
The day after her first visit, she'd gone back there to
retrieve her umbrella, only to find herself in a noisy bar called
Danny's Pub.
Nothing like the place she'd been in the night
before.
Interlude
was a dimly lit place with curtained booths,
barely audible music and people enjoying each other in
various sexual activities without any apparent inhibitions—the
same thing she'd done, mesmerised by Mark, his voice and
his touch. Stranger still, when she'd asked the people in
Danny's
Pub about
Interlude,
no one seemed to know what
the hell she was talking about, nor could she find her
umbrella.
But the umbrella now stood in a corner of her office,
delivered with a note that said, "See you when it rains again."
And that had led to the night in the private room. But damn
it, since then, not a drop of rain, no matter how many coins
she tossed in the fountain in the lobby of her building. And no
sign of Mark.
She looked at her watch. Four o'clock. She had work that
needed her attention, but it was impossible to concentrate.
Not when she needed an orgasm so badly. Maybe she'd pop
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Intermission
by Desiree Holt
down to
Danny's Pub
and see if, by any odd chance,
Interlude
might have shown up again, despite the dry spell.
"Cutting out early?" her secretary asked, looking up from
her desk.
Lisa hefted the briefcase in her hand, justifying her early
departure. "Going to work from home."
Liar!
"Oh. Well, shall I hold your calls or forward them to you?"
"Hold them," Lisa told her. "One reason I'm leaving is to
get away from the phones."
Liar, liar, pants on fire
!
"Okay, then. See you tomorrow."
Lisa tapped her foot impatiently as she waited for the
elevator then drummed her fingers on her briefcase as they
seemed to stop at nearly every floor on its way down. At last,
they reached the lobby, and she literally pushed her way out
of the group of passengers. Her heels clicked on the polished
tile floor as she hurried to the street and quickly turned left to
the door she was seeking.
Before she turned on the sidewalk to look at it, she closed
her eyes, shifted to face the building, made a silent wish and
opened her eyes.
Damn!
A solid black door with
Danny's Pub
emblazoned in ugly
white letters over it.
Sighing, she opened the door and entered, captured at
once by the din of voices and the blaring of two large
television sets hung at either end of the bar. Just like the
other time she'd been here, the place was jammed. There
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was a mixture of couples and singles, and she was sure the
singles were looking to be a couple. With someone. Anyone.
Lisa turned to go, chalking this up as a bad idea, when she
saw a woman at the far end of the bar leave her seat and
lean against the man who'd been whispering in her ear. Lisa
managed to wedge her way through the masses of people
and snag the empty stool before someone else could grab it.
Hoisting herself up, she took off her suit jacket, ran her
fingers through her hair and took a deep breath. Surely there
was someone here who could tell her she wasn't imagining
things. Someone who would give her answers about this very
strange place.
"Okay if I lean over you to catch the bartender's eye?"
The male voice was deep, smoky, and vaguely familiar.
She turned her head and nearly fell off the stool.
"Mark?" It came out as a squeak.
It
was
Mark. Only...not Mark at all. This man, instead of
being impeccably turned out in an expensive custom-tailored
suit, was wearing jeans and a v-neck sweater. His hair was
just as dark, but instead of being carefully cut, it lay in thick,
rumpled waves on his head, almost touching the tip of the
sweater. A definite stubble shadowed his square jaw.
Lisa stared, unable to tear her eyes away from him. Was
someone playing a trick on her? Or had she truly lost her
mind?
The man stared back at her, humour dancing in his eyes
and a wicked grin on his face.
"Were you expecting someone?"
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She shook her head as if to clear it. "No. You just
reminded me so much of someone I...sort of know."
"Well, I'm Jake, and now, you sort of know me." He
winked. "Can I buy you a drink to cement the introduction?"
Lisa was tempted to refuse, but maybe, this was a sign.
Fate had sent a man closely resembling Mark to this bar with
a different name. Maybe he'd be the one to clear up the
mystery. Besides—and go figure this—she got the same
throbbing beat in her cunt, the same release of cream
soaking her crotch that she did when Mark spoke to her. Just
his words, his voice, could make her hot and ready in
seconds.
"Um, yes. Thanks." She wriggled in her seat, trying to still
the quivering muscles in her pussy. "That would be nice."
He tilted his head, studying her. "Let's see. I'm pretty good
at this. You look like a vodka stinger kind of woman."
Lisa's heart almost stopped. How would he know that?