Submitted by Annie.
Annie blinked in mild shock as she read the first submission. She’d been expecting romance, kissing perhaps even a bit of ‘feeling up’, but panties were already being removed and anatomy pleasured by…
She sat back quickly and glanced around. The restaurant was fairly quiet with just an elderly couple, and two businessmen with matching laptops. She was grateful for that. Her tablet betrayed nothing of the steamy passions that filled the screen. She cursed her own nervousness at the idea of getting caught reading erotica. The tablet betrayed nothing of what she was reading. She swiped down, curious as to exactly how strong the erotica submissions would become. She swiped too vigorously, landing on a paragraph where his thick, veined penis plunged into her soaking…
Annie pulled in a deep breath and leaned back. Despite all efforts to keep her face impassive, her eyebrows had crept upwards at what she’d just seen.
A black-and-white uniformed waitress scuttled past. Annie glanced at her retreating back as she hurried into the Ladies Room. Maybe she ought to retreat to her hotel room and read in peace. No, she decided. The evening was young, her iced cider was fresh and she had yet to eat.
She swiped back to the place where the couple had begun to undress each other, already knowing the result. Well, it wouldn’t have been erotica if the couple hadn’t actually fucked. But that got her wondering. Could erotica be all about the idea of sex – the delicious anticipation that two or more adults were set on a headlong course for coitus – without going into lurid detail? She made a mental note to try some writing exercises later and see if that idea had legs.
The waitress hurried out of the ladies room. Behind her, the roaring of the hand drier suddenly cut of as the door slammed closed. Annie watched the waitress, noting her dark-stockinged legs and the way her buttocks moved against the tight skirt. It wasn’t that she was attracted to the girl – just that the details would be useful notes for a future story. Still, her eyes lingered on the panty-line in the dark material for longer than was polite.
She shook her head at the distraction and tried to find her place. By focussing her gaze, she managed to complete the first submission despite two more passing waitresses and a family of four passing her table twice. Her chilled fingers drifted down the moisture-dewed cider glass as she began the second submission. The stories were hot stuff. By the time she’d completed the story, the room had grown quite warm and her blouse suddenly seemed to restrict her breathing. She squirmed, trying to shift the cotton that was pressing against her breasts.
Her eye landed on a story that featured some mild BDSM – something she was keen to learn more about. Although her last story had received praise for its spanking and leather, she was curious to know more about the Dom/Sub world – and get inside the head of someone who was content to be someone’s slave. She slugged down a mouthful of iced cider, wondering why the restaurant’s thermostat was set so high. Her cheeks were burning and she was having difficulty in catching her breath. She shrugged off her jacket and laid it on the empty chair opposite her. The chair seemed oddly uncomfortable and she slid her buttocks forward an inch.
She went onto the next story, a hot little number about a woman who had fast sex with a complete stranger. If only… Annie thought. I’d be happy to bed someone that was only there for a quick one and was never seen again.
Her head snapped up. What the hell was she thinking? For no real reason other than to move, she checked her watch. Seven-twenty eight. She’d need to order dinner from the next waitress who passed. Maybe that dark-haired one with the slim legs.
Oh, Annie… She chastised herself. Getting horny and thinking about the waitresses like that was bad, bad, bad. Maybe someone ought to spank her for it.
She sighed and laid the tablet down on the table. No more erotica reading, she decided. Her brain was turning into perverted mush. She glanced around, hoping to catch the attention of a waitress. A handsome guy at the bar was ordering drinks – for his friends, she thought. There were three amber pints and a dark stout with a creamy white head. She smiled, turning the phrase over in her mind. Creamy white head. Her teeth nipped her lower lip as visions of an entirely different sort of cream filled her mind. And that particular white cream also came from a head. Usually a slippery one. She closed her eyes and sighed. Something tickled her opening and she felt the wetness ooze out of her.
Now I’ve done it, she thought. I need to get off this blog and go and do some writing. She smiled at her naivety. Yeah, writing erotica is really going to take my mind off the subject. But at least she’d be able to strip off and let the air get to her skin. She could even touch herself before she began, give herself a little thrill and get herself relaxed before she began typing.
“Are you ready to order, Miss?” Annie almost squeaked with fright. The waitress with the panty-line and the slim legs was standing over her. She realised that she’d left the tablet on the erotica page for everyone to see. But if she’d noticed, the waitress – Cheryl, her name tag said – said nothing. Annie stammered out an order for a salad to start and a steak for the main course, all the time waving her hands to keep the waitresses eye away from the tablet.
“Can I get you anything else to drink?” Cheryl asked, bending to retrieve Annie’s empty glass from beside the tablet. Annie got a quick flash of a pale bra and small breasts.
“White wine.. please,” she said. Her throat felt tight. She had to fight against the urge to add; ‘And would you bring it to my room?’ Cheryl threw her a smile that wasn’t the usual polite, tight-lipped gesture and walked away. Her cheeks drew Annie’s eye until they were lost behind a white pillar. Another trickle escaped into Annie’s gusset.
She squeezed her legs together for a long moment, then relaxed, letting her knees part minutely. She picked up the tablet, which proudly boasted ‘Erotica week! Submit to us (he he).’
No-one could have missed that, she knew. And why the hell had it reset to the top of the page anyway? Frowning, she swiped down once again, searching for the last story she’d read. Once again, her finger moved too vigorously – although she promised herself it would be nothing to the vigour it would encounter once she was naked and spread out on her hotel bed. She landed right in the middle of a story about someone called Jenny who was engaging in cybersex. She stuck with the meaty part and felt a tingle in her crotch as Jenny watched a guy jerking himself off on Skype. She still couldn’t believe how hot the stories were. For a moment, she felt inspired to submit one herself – then did a reality check. What would she write about? The submissions were short – 1500 words and none of her prepared stuff was that short. WIP extracts would breach her client’s terms of contract.
The heat between her legs had intensified. She badly wanted to explore down there. Perhaps she could just write how damn horny she’d felt after reading the submissions. She could throw in a cute waitress – someone to share her wine with back in her room. She wondered what time Cheryl finished.
Come off it, Annie, she chided herself. Fantasy. Reality. Keep them separate, for God’s sake. Her nipples ached. Her fingers twitched, eager to pinch them as she often did at her writing desk. She’d dip between her legs for some slippery moisture and rub it around her aureola, squeezing her breast as she finished a hot scene.
“You’re Annie Oakfield, aren’t you?” Cheryl was standing over her, glancing at the tablet. Annie had no way of hiding it without looking furtive.
“Ah…yes. But how did…?”
“Your book signing? Last month?” She’s phrased both sentences as questions. Annie let it go. Now was not the time to be correcting grammar. She suddenly realised that Cheryl was leaning closer.
“Your stories make me so hot.” She’d whispered the last word. A tingle ran down Annie’s spine as she turned to face her. She was only six inches away. Annie could have moved to kiss her – if they weren’t in such a public place. The wine glass appeared in her peripheral vision and she tore her gaze from Chery’s lovely hazel eyes.
“I can bring the rest of it up later,” she said quietly, swirling the glass. “I finish at eleven.”