Jo Leigh - Arm Candy

“How?”

She glared once, then went back to staring. “Slow, sensual. I’m in no rush. The crackling of the fire makes me drowsy, but not sleepy. My hand moves down until I find…”

He nodded.

“Then I close my eyes, and as it gets closer…”

He held his breath, praying she wouldn’t stop.

“…I hear something. I open my eyes, and there’s a man standing right next to me, watching me.”

“Who is he?”

“I don’t know. He’s just a man. Dark, big, well-muscled. I don’t know how long he’s been there, and I’m not at all embarrassed at what he’s seen. I just keep touching myself. He takes off his shirt, then his boots. And then he reaches for his belt.

Dan had to have a drink. He wanted to place the glass of ice on his erection, but he thought that might be a little blatant.

“He undoes his fly, and slowly takes off his pants. He’s, uh, hard.”

Dan coughed.

She glared again.

“Sorry.”

“This is hard enough.”

“I’ll say.”

That got him another glare. But it didn’t stop her. She just found that fascinating glass again, and went on. “Once he’s undressed, he lies down next to me. We kiss. For a long while. Then he starts touching me in the same places I touched myself. First, my breasts, but it’s different because his hands are so large and rough. It’s a totally different experience. He tells me to stop. To touch him instead, and I do. Then his hands move down my body until he, you know.”

“Yeah.”

“And he starts rubbing in small circles, the pressure is just right, not too hard or soft, and he keeps rubbing, and I let him go and I start getting closer and closer, and then I come like gangbusters, howling, and he climbs on top of me, spreads my thighs with his legs and he slams into me like he’s found the mother lode.”

Dan exhaled a breath he’d held forever. Jessica slugged back the rest of her drink. The waitress coughed, put their drinks down and backed away, her face as red as the cherry in her whiskey sour.

FIVE FACTS YOU SHOULD KNOW ABOUT MEN

1. Men like to barbecue. Men will cook if danger is involved.

2. Men who have pierced ears are better prepared for marriage. They’ve experienced pain and bought jewelry.

3. Marrying a divorced man is ecologically responsible. In a world where there are more women than men, it pays to recycle.

4. All men hate to hear “We need to talk about our relationship.” These seven words strike fear in the heart of even the strongest male.

5. Men have higher body temperatures than women. If your heating goes out in winter, sleep next to a man. Men are like portable heaters that snore.

Source: Hope, Paco “Facts About Men”

http://funnies.paco.to/factsOnMen.html

MARLA LOOKED in the bathroom mirror and held back a grin. About ten minutes ago, she’d covered her face with a bright green herbal mask, one she’d found in Cosmo, that was purported to make her skin positively glow. She’d also conditioned her hair with mashed bananas, and timed it so that she could wash the whole mess off at once. But that wasn’t for another fifteen minutes. In the meantime, she’d pulled out her razor and shaving cream and sat herself on the bathroom counter to start the long and tedious process of removing all signs of hair from the neck down.

Of course, her thoughts were on the day, on the incredible time she’d spent with Shawn. Yeah, yeah, she knew it didn’t mean anything, but he’d been so extraordinarily nice to her, it seemed like a dream.

They’d talked about his childhood and hers, which weren’t so terribly different. She’d been the youngest of four, he of five. She’d gotten a strange sort of encouragement from her parents to stretch herself and accomplish, where he’d had the faith of his mother to buoy his spirits. Where they differed most was that Shawn’s father was a dour and uncompromising man who had believed Shawn’s looks automatically made him suspect, and he’d tormented his son constantly, accusing him of being a “fag” and of having feminine ways. His father’s treatment had been terribly hard on Shawn, who was a sensitive boy, and had caused him to be wary of every emotion.

Finally, in college, at the University of New Mexico, Shawn had had a revelation: he wasn’t gay, wouldn’t turn gay, and whatever anyone else thought of the situation was their own problem. From then on, it was easy to accept the modeling jobs that had been offered. He’d left school with two years to go when the offer of riches became too great to ignore.

He’d moved to New York four years ago and had met with success he could never have imagined. He’d been in countless magazines, on television, on billboards, including one so famous it had become something of a risqué icon. It was simply him in a pair of boxer shorts, and people from as far away as China recognized him instantly. Fame had its drawbacks, however, most of which centered around lack of privacy, but he’d said he figured there was always a price to pay for the kind of life he was living, and he’d grown accustomed to it.

He’d gone back to school against the advice of his agent and manager, but he didn’t lose any sleep over it. He had a plan, and it promised him a wonderful future.

Marla had told him of her college days, and how she never truly fit in with any crowd she’d found. She wasn’t as silly as the beer-drinking kegger lovers, and not so serious as the math geeks, but somewhere in between. She’d had a few good friends, but mostly she stuck to studying and listening to music. After she graduated, she’d researched the market carefully and had been offered four excellent jobs, but it was Jessica she wanted to work with. She’d never regretted the choice, although she didn’t see herself following Jessica’s strict “work-only” ethic. Marla still loved music, mostly classical and oldies, with some musicals, particularly those of Stephen Sondheim, to round out her tastes. That’s when Shawn had smiled that unbelievable smile at her. “I know him,” he’d said.

“Stephen Sondheim?”

“Yes. He’s a friend. I could introduce you.”

She’d been dizzy with the joy of it. To meet Stephen Sondheim would thrill her to her toes, but to have Shawn introduce him! It was simply over the top.

She finished shaving the one leg and picked up the canister to get the other one creamy, when the phone rang. Marla climbed down from the counter and hurried to the other room, a combination living room, kitchen and bedroom, to get the phone, fully expecting the call to be from Jessica.

It was Shawn. His sweet low voice took her breath away, and she didn’t say anything for a minute after his hello. He repeated the word, and she remembered how to talk. “Hi.”

“Am I bothering you?”

“Oh, no. No bothering here. In fact, the opposite of bothering which would be, uh…I don’t know what the opposite would be but you’re doing it. Nope. No bothering.”

He laughed, which made her all smiley and giddy. She sat down on the edge of the couch, crossed her clean-shaven leg over the hairy one.

“What are you up to tomorrow?” he asked.

“We have the dessert-and-jazz party at the Rainbow Room.”

“That’s tomorrow night.”

“I know, but I’ll have to go there in the afternoon to make sure all the decorations are up and stuff like that.”

“Ah, what time would that happen?”

“I’m not a hundred percent sure, but probably around two.”

“Which would mean you would be available if, say, someone wanted to take you to brunch?”

That feeling swamped her tummy again, the one where the butterflies all took off at once and did the waltz. “Brunch?”