DirtyInterludes (4 page)

Silence.

Awkward. This was gonna get interesting. He settled in the
seat, trying his best not to show his unease. Sure, voyeurism was okay, but he
wasn’t quite in the mood. But he certainly hoped to get into it soon. She bent
over, her pert ass in the air. And what a nice ass it was. Wiping his mouth
with the back of his hand, he waited for her to set the ambience. The dude
stepped into his peripheral. Damn the guy really wanted to get a good eyeful of
this. Max shrugged it off. He wasn’t shy.

Music started, blaring Britney Spears. He held back a
grimace. Whatever floated the woman’s boat. She marched toward him in a
model-esque sway only to stop a few feet from him. Hips swung and arms moved in
a dance right from a Brittany Spears video. Now he was starting to dig that
singer. The woman twisted around and bent to touch her toes. He liked that
position best. Ass swaying, she shot a cheeky smile in his direction. Max winked.

She straightened and sashayed around his chair, touching his
thigh, his shoulder. He knew the drill. Settling back to enjoy the show, he
watched the stripper gyrate. She fell to her knees and fucked the floor in the
way only a man would appreciate. Desire stirred and he shifted, trying to ease
it. The stripper crawled toward him and spread his legs, mouthing the words to
the pop song as she raked his chest.

She licked her top lip and mounted his thighs. She grasped
his hair to push his face into her breasts. Max obliged and even licked the
swell. Turnabout was fair play after all. She pushed him back, tapped his nose
with a mischievous gleam in her eyes. She stood and sauntered away, her hips
moving in a seductive sway. She threw a saucy look over her shoulder before she
pivoted around and pushed the dress off one shoulder. Now they were getting
into the good stuff.

He bobbed his knee to the beats, watching her strip off her
dress to her waist. She wore a lacy piece that cupped her pert tits. She swayed
her body in ways that were purely sexual. Legs spread, she pretended to finger
herself and Max groaned. She unsnapped her bra and sashayed up to him, wrapped
the flimsy fabric over his neck as she undulated over him. His hands settled on
her waist. She kicked a leg up over the chair. The dress concealed her but his
focus remained on her bouncing tits. She flung her head around, black hair
hitting him in the eye, but he blinked it away. She pushed from him and dropped
the rest of the dress and Max’s skin flushed cold. He jerked out of his chair
and away from the stripper.

Was that a fucking bulge? “Whoa. I think there has been a
misunderstanding.”

He-she stood calmly in the center of the room, music fading
as the Britney song drew to a conclusion. And then it hit him. It was a gig.
Shock gave way to the realization he’d been had by Bridget. He didn’t think she
had it in her. “Who hired you?”

The bodyguard shifted, reminding him they weren’t alone. Now
he understood why the dude was there. Some people probably didn’t act nicely
about being fooled.

The dancer pulled her clothes back on. “The woman didn’t
give her name. Thought maybe it was a disgruntled ex or something.”

“You do this often?”

She shrugged. “Usually for bachelor parties. Some friends
like to pull pranks on the groom-to-be.”

Max got that. He did. But to have a guy gyrate on him made
him distinctly uncomfortable. Given his career, he knew himself to be a
contradiction. He just didn’t like dick and wouldn’t cross that line for any
amount of money. No crossing of swords, thank you. He walked to the kitchen and
snatched up his wallet by the phone. “How much do I owe you?”

Fully clothed, the cross-dresser shook her head. “I’ve
already been paid.”

“Let me at least pay you for being understanding.”

He pulled out a couple hundred and she eyed it with
interest. Max waved it at her and she snatched it from him, shoving it into her
bra. “Thanks.”

“Thank you for the dance.”

She nodded and sashayed out the door. As it clicked shut, he
leaned against the counter and sighed, his heart still racing. Now the overtly
feminine gestures made sense. Unable to wait, Max exited his house and marched
across the lawn to Bridget’s. He didn’t know what he’d do when he saw her, but
he was going to show her not to mess with him.

He knocked on the door and a moment later it opened. Her
lips pursed as though she wanted to hold back laughter.

“Not cool.”

She blinked at him. “What? I thought you’d like that.”

He didn’t buy her innocent act for one minute. He was a
better actor than she and he was a porn actor, if that said anything. “A dude,
Bridget?”

“With someone as sexually overt as yourself I thought you’d
enjoy a bit of spice.”

“A bit too spicy for my tastes. Pretty proud of yourself
aren’t you?”

She smirked. “What can I say? You play with fire…”

He slapped his hand on the door when she moved to shut it.
“Oh I like to play with fire.”

He caught her around the nape and drew her into a kiss. Her
lips tensed, a muffled protest caught by his mouth. He fisted her hair as he
pulled her into the curve of his body. He ran a line over the seam of her lips,
flicking it gently. Cajoling. She whimpered and her lips parted. He took
immediate advantage and delved inside. She tasted of wine. Tart and fruity.

He angled his head until their lips joined in perfect
symmetry. His hand settled over the dip in her back as he plundered her mouth.
He feathered his tongue along the cusp of her lip, retreating and advancing.
Teasing her. Showing her what he wanted. Who turned him on. His cock ached for
her. For that sweet nectar he knew gathered between her thighs. If her panting
wasn’t indication enough, then her hard nipples pressing against his chest
convinced him. Frigid Bridget wanted him.

He danced them back until he had her pressed against the
wall. The hall stand tottered beside them and something like keys hit the
floor. He didn’t care. He wanted to touch her. Abandoning her back, he dipped
his hand under her track pants and into the moist heat of her panties. He
circled her clit, her juices easing his way. Breaking the kiss, he scissored
the nubbin with expert ease, glorying in the way her eyelids drooped in
passion. A flush ran up her neck and he nibbled at the column before flicking
her earlobe.

“You’re hot for me.”

Lashes fluttered and anger flared. Damn if his dick didn’t
jerk at the sight. He shoved a finger into her sopping cunt and her ragged
whimper made him smile. Indignation fought with the overwhelming pleasure with
which he plied her flesh. He brushed his thumb over her clit in slow sweeps. Her
hips rocked into his hand, her hands planted firmly on the wall. Deny it all
she cared to, she wanted his hand on her. He could do this all day, torturing
them both with desire. He flicked her earlobe. “Say you want me and I just
might give you that O.”

“Never.”

He pumped his fingers into her, deep enough to touch the
G-spot. Her head tipped back on a moan. When her hips started to rock into him
he stilled. Gloved by her sweet pussy, he watched a delicate frown chase over
her forehead before her eyes fluttered open. Her moan of protest was followed
by a roll of her hips, which he prevented by the pressure of his hand. “Say
it.”

The passion drained from her face, leaving behind fury as
she glared at him. “No.”

He chuckled, pulling his hand from her. His fingers
glistened with her juices and he sucked them clean. Sweet summer rain. Damn.
The fingers came free with a wet pop and he walked to the front. He stopped,
hand on the door. Bridget still remained against the wall, as if her legs
couldn’t take her weight.

“You tell me when you’re ready to admit you want a good
fuck. And I might show you.” He winked, closing the door on her insults.

Words like “pig” and “peacock” really didn’t upset him.
Hands shoved in his pocket, he wandered back to his house and thought of more
ways to torture her, relishing the idea that he just might have another battle
of wills very soon.

* * * * *

Bridget woke in a sour mood. She ached with need and her
dreams taunted her with Max’s delicious hands and the erotic sensations he
evoked in her. Not only did he ruin her cello practice, he now invaded her
dreams. She shoved a pillow over her face and let out a muffled scream of
frustration. On some level she knew it was juvenile but she didn’t care. She
threw the pillow aside and exhaled sharply. The smugness she felt yesterday
died in the revelation of his touch. The enjoyment of having him finger her.
She was near admitting she wanted him, but pride kept her silent. She’d yet to
decide if that was a good or bad thing.

After rolling out of bed, she got ready to meet Cathy at a
café for a breakfast chat. Reluctance weighed on her. What was supposed to be a
gleeful recounting of Max’s humiliation was about to turn into her own. Keys in
hand, she left her house and paused at her car at the sight of a man with a
dragon tattoo running down the street. Muscular arms pumped, his abs rippling.
Her pussy pulsed with need and she hated him for it. Why did he have to be up
and all perky?

It was wrong when she spent most of her night tossing and
turning in sexual frustration. Some part of her took perverted enjoyment in
not
fulfilling that ache, thinking it’d show Max up. Well, who was laughing now?
Not her, that’s for certain.

He slowed as he approached, a grin pulling at his sinful
mouth. A mouth that’d devastated her last night.

“I hope you had sweet dreams,” he said.

Bridget smiled sweetly. “I hope you had nightmares.”

“If you were in them, I might’ve.”

“You didn’t find kissing me last night so bad.”

His mouth popped open, then snapped shut. He pointed at her
as though to utter a rebuke but he finally blew out a breath, hands on his
hips. “I kissed you to prove a point.”

“And what was that? That you don’t like cross-dressers? By
the way you worked so hard, I’d think you might’ve liked Tiffany a bit too much
for your comfort.”

“Hey, I have to admit, she was a good imitation. But I like
the real thing better.”

“Aw, she didn’t stroke your
ego
?”

Eyes crinkled. “Nice play on words, babe. But if I recall,
it was you getting
your
ego stroked.”

“I could do a better job all by myself.”

Nostrils flared as an intensity vibrated off his frame. “And
did you?”

She pressed her hand on the roof of her car. “You’d like to
know, wouldn’t you? To know if I can get off all by my lonesome.”

“I love it when you speak dirty, baby.”

“It’s the last thing I’d do with you.”

“It really bugs you to know you loved my finger shoved deep
in your pussy.”

Heat coiled in her womb. “Whatever makes you feel more like
a man.”

She shoved the door open and slipped into her car. Giving
Max a toodle-loo wave, she reversed out the drive and sped away.

Inwardly she gave herself a high five for not losing her
cool. She’d flustered Max and that was worth a sleepless night. Before long,
she pulled into a parking space near her favorite café. A little bistro that
boasted of coffee made strong and full-bodied. Despite the early Saturday
morning, people filled tables and the welcoming smell of coffee and syrup
filled the air. An espresso machine hissed and utensils clinked.

She found Cathy seated by the window, her body turned toward
Bridget to wave her over. The woven chair creaked as she settled in the spare
seat. Cathy propped her elbow on the table, fingers cupped around a white mug.
“How’s your week been?”

Bridget grimaced. “Not so well as I’d hoped. Gillian isn’t
hiding her determination to get my seat. I’m supposed to have a little to-do to
try and draw us together as a group, but…”

“She’s toxic?”

“Yes. Her snippy comments can really ruin it.”

Cathy sipped her drink thoughtfully. “You know, if you just
show her that she is nothing but a blip then she’ll stop. She probably wants to
upset you so you mess up.”

“Thing is, I don’t need her help to mess up. Max is ruining
my life.”

“Max? What’d he do?”

“The things he says to me. I’m not used to it and I always
feel like I’m on the back foot with him. I tried to get back at him.”

“How’d it go?”

Bridget’s lips pinched. “Not as well as I expected. He kinda
turned the tables on me.”

“How’d he manage that? Sent the cross-dresser to your
place?”

“He came over and, well, let’s just say he’s more into me
than he lets on.”

Confusion jerked Cathy’s chin down. “What’s that supposed to
mean?”

Bridget leaned forward and Cathy did likewise. “He
kissed
me.”

Cathy recoiled and thumped the mug down on the wooden table.
“He did what?”

“He kissed me.”

Lips thinned. “Did you…
like
it?”

Heat seared her face.

Cathy’s features stiffened and she slapped her palm down on
the table. “You know what type of guy he is. The type to take and take to
satisfy his ego. Don’t think for one minute he likes you.”

Her friend’s ardent words gave her pause. The ferocity in
her voice spoke of experience. “What’s wrong?”

Cathy whipped a lock of blonde hair from her fair face.
“It’s nothing. I just know his type. I got burned a few years back. Badly. He was
just like Max.”

Bridget patted her friend’s hand. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. He came to his senses and we’re trying to work it
out. It’s still a work in progress but I don’t want you to fall into the same
trap I did.”

Bridget rubbed her friend’s hand. “That’s so nice of you.”

Cathy pulled away. “Don’t thank me. Us women need to stick
together when men think they’re God’s gift.”

Bridget understood her friend’s frustration with the male
species. Max was an ultimate bad boy and women flocked to him. Sadly, Bridget
feared falling into that trap. Being infatuated with a man who used women like
a revolving door led to nothing but misery. Moisture gathered in her panties
and she shifted in her seat. He manipulated her like a magician. A conductor to
her discordant body. The stark truth remained that Max’s touch had upended her
world and brought forth the sexually aware woman inside.