Siren's Garter: Issue One August 2016

SIREN’S GARTER

Issue One August 2016

Featuring the novella:

NEVER MARRY THE FEMME
FATALE

by

Miriam F. Martin

Hermit Muse Publishing

Copyright
Information

SIREN’S GARTER

Issue One August 2016

Smashwords Edition

All Original Content

Copyright © 2016: David Anthony
Brown

Published by: Hermit Muse
Publishing

Cover image by: Fabio
Bernardi/Dreamstime

Cover design by: D. Brown/Hermit
Muse Publishing

“The Girl Behind the Counter”
previously published under the pen-name D. B. Mallory

This book is licensed for your
personal enjoyment only. All rights reserved. This is a work of
fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this book are
fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is
purely coincidental. This book, or parts thereof, may not be
reproduced in any form without permission.

This book contains erotic content,
and is intended for adults over the age of 18.

Contents

NOVELLA

Never Marry the Femme
Fatale

Elsie Turner wants to be married to
the man of her dreams. But being a career covert spy doesn’t help.
Nor does it help when her life goes sideways on the day before her
wedding, while standing naked on the edge of a cliff.

Her fiancee, Kevin Kincaid, has no
idea what he’s in for when he answers a knock on the bridal suite
door. Bad enough he keeps his own secrets from Elsie.

Too many secrets can either destroy
a relationship, or raise the heat to unbearable levels.

QUICKIE CONFESSIONALS

The
Girl Upstairs

What Happens in the Library

The Uke
Club

Gone
Fishing

The Door to Door Pitch

SHORT STORIES

Creatures of
Habit

Tom wakes up every morning to
Katie’s piano music. Predictable as Sunday morning. But one day
while making breakfast, he discovers something missing.

And he can’t put his finger on that
missing something.

His beautiful wife makes it a habit
to please him, but Tom wonders if she’s holding back a
secret.

***

Gone to the
Dogs

Kacy spends her afternoons staring
out her front window, watching the Josh the cute neighbor guy walk
his pug. But as the summer heats up, she decides to put on her
bikini and do a little gardening in her front yard.

Not the normal method to pick up
guys, but Kacy has to do what she has to do. Josh has no choice in
the matter.

The night isn’t over
yet.

***

The Glowing
Satisfaction of Pancakes

Kyle wakes up early every morning.
Karen doesn’t. On the weekend, their different schedules make
activities difficult. But maybe the smell of fresh breakfast could
entice Karen out of bed. At least that’s his plan.

But breakfast doesn’t end with just
pancakes. Satisfying Karen takes so much more.

***

After Hours on the
Full Moon

All sorts of men drink at the
Squatter’s Dive bar, and Cheryl gets to meet all of them. Being a
bartender has that perk, and having a little bit of cleavage helps
with the tips.

But the cutest guys are never
single, and the one at the end of the bar seems to be no exception.
He’s well dressed, handsome, and waiting for a date.

Pete isn’t entirely sure his date
will show up. But would he go for a bartender with exotic tattoos
on both arms?

***

The Girl Behind the Counter

The Quickie Mart is Jason’s first
stop on his way to work, and on his way home. But not because he
likes the snacks or sodas. Now if he could figure out how to talk
to Miranda, the girl behind the counter, he might get lucky. Or so
he thinks.

When Miranda needs a ride home one
night, Jason decides to push his luck.

Unwinding from a long day at work
has never been more fun.

QUICKIE
CONFESSIONALS

The Girl Upstairs

My downstairs neighbor is hot.
Smoking, hot. Tall, dark black hair, baby smooth skin. Ryan is his
name. He does the yard work for our landlord. Once a week I wake up
to the smell of fresh cut grass, and I hear the
clip-clip-clip
of him trimming the
bushes directly below my dinette window.

The aroma of fresh Arabian coffee
mixes with the fresh grassy scent. I open the yellow lacy dinette
window curtains and look out below at him. I’m wearing a lacy black
bra and white Brazilian cut panties. He’s got on a pair of khaki
shorts and tennis shoes. I hope he can see me.

So I tap on the window.
Innocently, of course.
Tap-tap.
Ryan looks up, and nearly drops the trimmers. He
fumbles for a bit, makes a nice recovery by catching the trimmers
in one hand, and waves at me. I wave back, an impish grin flushing
my cheeks. For an awkward moment too long, we stare at each other
as if for the first time. Ryan looks away first, face and neck red
from the sun, and he goes back to trimming the bushes.

I get an idea.

I slip on my cutest pair of wedge
sandals and my nearly see-through pink bathing robe, and I go
downstairs with a full bottle of ice water.

“
Hey neighbor,” I say, offering
him the water. “You look like you need a drink.”

“
I do,” he says, and drinks the
water in one long gulp. I take the opportunity to check out his
chiseled abs, and the way sweat drips down his skin.

“
More where that came from,” I
say. It’s a struggle to avert my eyes from his beltline. I manage,
for a second or two, but he’s hard, and he’s not exactly hiding
it.

Ryan grins wolfishly, as if he
knows exactly what’s going on in my brain. The bulge gets bigger,
fuller. I want to reach out and tap it. That’s exactly what I do.
He doesn’t flinch, or smack my hand away.

“
Maybe,” I say, “you should get
your ass upstairs before you embarrass me.”

“
Embarrass you how? Like this?”
Ryan undoes his pants and whips it out, he’s not even wearing
boxers. His cock is bigger than most of my toys, with a fat
mushroom head and a thick shaft that bends upward. The ball sack is
equally huge.

I push him against the apartment
building, in between the bushes. Luckily, there’s a little ledge
for him to sit on. I slip off my panties, let them drop to my
ankles. What am I doing? Fucking this near stranger in the garden
between buildings? Letting him see my trimmed bush like
this?

Mine is trimmed down to a cute
little landing strip. Ryan is fast to touch me, and slips a finger
inside while his thumb rolls across my clit. I lean in and kiss
him. Tongue action follows.

My heart races. Soon I’m working up
a sweat in the sweltering heat. Ryan is hot and grimy beneath my
fingers. Before I know it, I’m straddling that monster cock and
grinding it with my hips.

Ryan makes cute panting noises.
He’s trying to be quiet, to not draw attention from anyone who
happens to be passing by.

Deep down somewhere, maybe in my
pussy, I know what a dumb idea this is. But I’m too busy squealing
in delight as the orgasm hits.

My pussy squirts, watering his cock
and balls. I squeeze a fistful of his hair and rotate his head as I
kiss him hard to squelch my scream.

Ryan responds by grabbing my ass in
both hands and pulling me closer.

He allows me a moment to bask. I
push away first, and collect my panties from under the bush. Ryan
zips up his shorts, but he’s still hard.

“
Come by tonight,” I pat him on
the crotch gently. “And I’ll finish the job.”

“
I’ll bring dinner,” he says, and
winks.

One last quick kiss before I head
back upstairs. Ryan might have a long day of work ahead of him, but
he has a long night of fucking after that.

I hope he’s well rested.

What Happens in
the Library

In my last semester of college, I
was an emotional wreck. My boyfriend since freshman year dumped me
for a cougar. The trip to Paris I’d been planning for a year had
fallen through. And I’d been rejected from all ten PhD programs I’d
applied to. Life sucked, and I wasn’t sure why I even bothered
anymore. Time got filled with Irish mint ice cream, intense boot
camp style workouts, and late night studying at the college
library.

Constant 24/7 menstrual cycle
described my mood pretty well. I was a psycho bitch, with a big
“fuck off asshole” sign on my forehead. I alienated my friends. My
grades were slipping like sand through my fingers. And I hadn’t
gotten laid in more than a year. Crabby was just the
beginning.

All that changed one late Thursday
night, on the third floor of the library. Near finals week, they
kept the library open past midnight for the book freaks like me to
write our term papers. I was writing three at the same time, and
they were all due next Monday. Earlier, I had worked out and hadn’t
bothered showering after, and smelled like I’d been trapped in a
sauna with ten fat men and a stick of cool gel
deodorant.

I still wore my workout clothes. A
pink sports bra and green shorts, and a soft black, cotton
jacket.

I had intentionally sat near the
printer, so I could print off some research data on hard copy and
look at it while I typed my papers. The printer roared to life
right before I hit the “send” button. Great, so I’d wait in
line.

Next I know, a really cute guy with
long brown hair and glasses shows up to check the printer. He wore
corduroy pants and a red flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up.
He’s collecting the paper being spit out, shuffling it into neat
piles, tapping his fingers on the machine while he waits. And I’m
checking him out, despite my bad attitude.

As if a fog had lifted, and
revealed what I’d been missing the whole time. I’d forgotten what
it was like to check out guys. And he was checking me out, with
quick sidelong glances.

Despite my worst intentions, the
“fuck off asshole” sign fell down, and I dropped my guard. I smiled
at the guy. Miracle of miracles, he smiled back and introduced
himself as Gary. Small pleasantries ensued. Then I shove my foot in
mouth.

“
You gonna be much longer, Gary?”
I said, right as the paper jammed in the printer. Go
figure.

“
Shucks,” he said. “Only one more
page to go.” He tried to open the tray, but only made a lot of
noise and fuss.

“
You can’t just whip it out,” I
said, standing up. I pushed my body into his. Gary didn’t budge, I
rubbed one of my boobs against his arm. I hoped he took the hint.
If only I smelled better.

He stepped out of the way, goofy
grin on his face and a teepee in his pants. I undid the paper jam
and sat back down, staring at him. The printer kept spitting out
page after page.

“
Thought you said only one
more.”

“
More like one hundred.
Sorry.”

“
What I am supposed to do while I
wait for the longest book report to print?”

“
See the empty private study room?
With the ‘do not disturb’ sign.” Gary pointed to one of the private
rooms twenty paces away. “It’s empty.”

“
Let’s go study!” I said, trying
and failing to hide the excitement in my voice. I can hardly
believe what was happened when I led him by the hand.