Excessica Anthology BOX SET Winter (111 page)

“Good,
good, good,” Ryan chanted, but truth be told, his pleasure was too big for him
to care about the chair. If it ruptured and spilled them out on the floor like
children’s toys from a toy box, he would live. He’d simply roll and drive into
Kami further, faster, deeper. He’d still fondle her cock so she’d make those
noises that were driving him insane. He’d just keep going. He was too far gone.

“I
want you to come. It makes me glow on the inside and out.”

“More?”
Ryan laughed. But he touched her face, feeling the soft flesh of her mouth and
the subtle bite of fine stubble on her upper lip. “You glow more?”

“I
do. I glow more. Like a small molten sun. Like something…”

“Mystical,”
Ryan said, so close to coming he was trembling. He felt small and huge all at
once. Weak and strong. Like a stiff wind would blow him away or he could shift
the world on its axis. This was the magic of femen.

“But
you too are mystical, Ryan. A life with purpose is a magical quest.” Kami bent
his head and nipped at Ryan’s throat with his small white teeth. He plucked at
Ryan’s nipple with his strong fingers. And Ryan came, jerking up and into Kami,
crying out and chanting again. This time, “Yes, yes, yes!”

Kami
writhed over him, her sandy hair shifting like sea weed in and invisible tide.
The small pounding of her heart visible at her throat. And when he looked at
her, she was coming, she was glowing–coming for him. Fierce and bright
like a sun, like a burning star. She was so perfect. He was so strong. Ryan was
so grateful.

She
made soft sounds and shuddered against him. “Will you stay tonight?” Kami
asked.

“I
will. If you’ll have me.”

“We
have big dark skies here. And stars that can be seen.” She put Ryan’s hand to
her breast and he put his free hand on her cock. He thumbed gently at the head
until she shifted like a dancer on a stage. She moved herself slowly to sit on
his lap, her robe wrapped around her.

“And
muddy roads and no cell phones,” Ryan said.

“Small
bars and wooden steps,” Kami said.

“Community
dances and farms that still function,” Ryan said, kissing her. Feeling a
flutter of anxiety and extremely safe–all at once. All the opposites of
life rushing through him like a flash flood.

“And
bonfires and bug nets,” Kami said, touching his cheek.

“And
magic,” Ryan said, pulling her in tight. He should be confused. He wasn't. He
felt like he was home and that was good.

“Lots
and lots of magic,” Kami said and put her hand in his lap again.
He–wondrously–felt himself begin to stir for her already. So Ryan
kissed him.

About
Sommer Marsden

Sommer
Marsden’s work has appeared in dozens of anthologies and on numerous websites.
Some of her favorite books include I is for Indecent, J is for Jealousy, L is
for Leather, Spank Me, Tie Me Up, Whip Me, Ultimate Lesbian Erotica ‘08, Love
at First Sting, Open for Business, Tasting Her, Hurts So Good and Yes, Sir. She
is also writes The Seekers novellas for Eternal Press and is the author of The
Anniversary Party for Whiskey Creek Press Torrid. She lives in Maryland and keeps
her alter ego to herself. Not really. She had a big mouth and knows how to use
it. She has many addictions and has no intentions of getting help for any of
them. They currently include red wine, writing smut, long walks, the downward
dog position, emails, blog hopping, and biscotti. You can reach her at
[email protected]
or visit her at
sommermarsden.blogspot.com
to keep
up with her dirty ramblings.

A Summer Dance with a Succubus

By
M.E. Hydra

Terry
Gaiman adjusted his black bow tie in the mirror, trying to get it straight. He
twisted it first one way, decided he’d gone too far, twisted it back, realized
he’d overcompensated, twisted it again.

Why
did evening wear have to be so complicated?

He
fussed with his cufflinks. The shirt cuffs felt like a pair of oversized floppy
manacles. He looked back in the mirror and tried, again, to straighten his bow
tie.

He
checked the clock and felt his heart flutter in nervous panic.

She
was going to be here soon.

He
flittered round his bedroom like an over-caffeinated moth. Did he have
everything? Were his clothes right? He was convinced he was going to make a
fool of himself.

He
knew there was no real need to panic. She wouldn’t care either way. He still
wanted to make an effort though. It wouldn’t feel right if he took it for
granted.

The
doorbell rang as he was tying up his shoelaces. He’d been expecting the sound
but the shock of it still kicked his heart up until it felt like he was on the
verge of spitting it out onto the floor.

He
rushed back to the mirror. Damn tie still wasn’t straight.

Fuck
it.

He
was almost out of his bedroom when he remembered something. He turned back and
plucked an old trilby hat from a stand in the corner.

“Mustn’t
forget this,” he said.

The
hat had been stylish once and despite being a little age worn it still
possessed a bit of class. At least Terry thought so. He put it on his head and
rushed down the corridor to answer the door.

The
girl on the other side took Terry’s breath away.

He’d
expected sexy. He’d expected fit. He’d expected raunchy.

What
he hadn’t expected was a beauty that looked as if she’d stepped straight out of
the pages of a fairytale to pluck at his heartstrings as if they were an
exquisite harp. How to even describe her?

Her
skin was pale like fresh snow.

No,
that was the wrong metaphor. Snow is cold, undesired.

There
was a coldness to her features though. Like marble.

Yes,
that was a better fit. Stone had an aloofness and distance about it, as if it
was far removed from such paltry concerns as rot and decay. She had the cold
perfection of stone worked by a master sculptor, a beauty that sat outside the
flow of years as if they could never touch her.

Terry
didn’t know what to do. His plans now seemed like the despoilment of a lush
paradise.

“Hello,
I’m Nicole,” the girl said. “Are you Terry?”

Terry
nodded. Her voice had the same trace of an accent he’d heard on the phone. He
couldn’t tell if it was French or Eastern European. During the phone
conversation her voice had made him picture an exotic model or actress from an
old chic movie. He knew his mental image wouldn’t match up; he hadn’t expected
it to be surpassed.

She
wore a white fur coat and fashionable sunglasses and looked every bit the
stylish and refined model. Her hair was cut in a short black bob. She looked
stunning.

What
would she make of him? Terry thought. Inwardly he must disgust her.

“You
can speak you know,” Nicole said with a smile.

Her
lips were a contrast to the paleness of her skin, a vivid splash of red like a
precious bloom. When she smiled her entire face was transformed. The cold
perfection softened into a truly heart-melting beauty.

“I’m
sorry,” Terry said. “I’m not used to speaking to beautiful women. Come in,” he
added, backing into the hallway to allow her to enter.

“So
what are we doing this evening?” Nicole asked. “From the way you’re all dressed
up I’m guessing we have plans to go out.”

Terry
picked up a flier from the telephone table. It advertised a summer dance at the
local cricket club.

“Would
you like to come with me to the dance?” he asked.

“Why
I would love to accompany such a charming young man to the dance,” Nicole
replied. “But first...”

She
examined him with a critical eye. Then she stepped forward and went down on her
knees until her head was level with his crotch.

Was
she going to? Already? He felt his cock stiffen in his pants and all of a
sudden he felt a little giddy and light-headed.

Nicole
reached behind him and untied his cummerbund. She dropped the red silk slash on
the phone table with an expression of mild distaste.

“A
little too formal for a summer dance I think,” she said.

Terry
let out a breath, unsure whether it was relief or disappointment.

Nicole
ran a finger up the outline of his erection, causing Terry to shiver with
pleasure.

“Later,”
she smiled, getting back to her feet. “We have the whole night ahead of us.”

“Do
I look okay?” Terry asked, opening his arms. “The suit was my father’s. It’s
all I have.”

And
the hat had originally belonged to his grandfather, but he wasn’t about to
mention that. Leaving the house without his hat was not an option.

“I
look horribly out of fashion don’t I?” Terry said.

“Nonsense,”
Nicole said, stepping close enough for the subtle fragrance of her perfume to
toy with his nostrils. “You look like a perfectly stylish young man.”

She
reached up with her pale hands to adjust his bow tie, finally getting it
straight. Seeing those luscious red lips pursed in concentration, Terry felt
the sudden urge to kiss her. His head angled down to meet her, a trajectory he
halted long before they met.

They
didn’t like to kiss, he’d heard, and he didn’t want to offend her.

Nicole
was not the type to be offended. Her hands finished with his tie and then slid
onwards over his shoulders and met behind his neck. She pulled his head down
until her lips, soft and supple, crushed against his. His initial wild
excitement was doused in a calm sea of bliss. Standing there, with Nicole in
his arms, her warm lips working against his, he felt like he’d become part of
the same perfect sculpture. In her arms it felt like time could no longer touch
him, as if the passing of night and day ran together into one single blur.

She
pulled away with a smile.

“We’d
better stop, otherwise we won’t make the dance,” she said.

Was
that such a bad thing? Terry thought, but he followed her out to her car, a
little Renault Clio. Outside, the air was muggy and Terry was glad Nicole had
got him to remove some of his excess clothing.

As
they drove to the cricket ground on the edge of town Terry noticed Nicole still
hadn’t removed her sunglasses. They were already deep enough into twilight for
the street lights to bathe the road in a wan orange glow.

“Can
you see okay with those?” Terry asked.

“I
have a rare condition,” Nicole answered. “My eyes are extremely sensitive to
light. Without my glasses even those street lights are bright enough to cause
me pain.”

The
field next to the ground was being used as an overspill car park. Even that was
full, but Nicole’s car was small enough for her to sneak it into a space
beneath a gnarled old oak.

“I
suppose you see enough rare conditions every day,” Nicole said. “Dr Pratchett
says you’re wonderful with the children at the hospital.”

“He
does?” Terry said. “I just try and make things fun for them. It’s
heart-wrenching some of the illnesses they suffer. Both Holly McKean and
Madeleine Keith have leukemia. Dr Pratchett reckons they only have a few months
left. Holly is eleven, Maddy is twelve. It’s Mary Dringenberg I really feel
for. She has Progeria, that premature ageing condition. Eight years old and she
already looks like a wrinkled old lady.”

“It’s
a tragedy to have to become acquainted with death at such a tender age,” Nicole
said.

“They’re
still children though,” Terry said. “At heart they want the same things as any
other child. They want to laugh, to play, to have fun. People forget that
sometimes. They’re so busy pitying them or trying to hide their own revulsion,
they forget the poor kid just wants someone to play with them.”

Terry
paused and looked at Nicole.

“This
probably isn’t a good topic of conversation before going out on a date is it?”
he said.

Nicole
smiled enigmatically.

“I
don’t want you to think I’m morbid or obsessed by death or anything,” Terry added.

“Some
say the only two topics worthy of conversation are sex and death,” Nicole said.

“Sex
seems more appropriate for this evening,” Terry said. “More fun.”

“I
agree. I think we should discuss it later,” Nicole said. She reached across and
put a hand in Terry’s lap. “At great length,” she added with another enigmatic
smile.

They
walked to the bright lights of the clubhouse. A number of stalls had been set
up outside and were gaily lit with bright lamps. Some offered games with the
chance to win novelty stuffed animals. There was a tombola. Others offered a
variety of different foods and drinks. The clubhouse itself rocked to the bass
thumps of loud dance music. It was heaving in there.

Terry
felt a momentary flash of reluctance. Most of the town’s youth would be here
and there was him in his Granddad’s hat and his father’s dinner suit. Nicole’s
presence on his arm emboldened him though. It felt like they were the most
glamorous couple there. Everyone turned to look at them, or rather Nicole.

Of
course it was only fantasy, but Terry didn’t care. He’d enjoy the night while
it lasted.

“How
do you know Dr Pratchett?” Terry asked.

“I
comforted him after his wife passed on,” Nicole answered.

“Oh,”
Terry said.

“That’s
a very judgmental ‘Oh’ I’m hearing there,” Nicole said, cocking her head up to
look at him.

“It’s
a surprise, that’s all,” Terry said. “Dr Pratchett always seemed so stern and
serious to me. I never would have thought...then I suppose we’re only here
tonight because he gave me your number and ordered me to call you.”

“He’s
a doctor. He understands what the body needs,” Nicole said. “As do I.” She gave
Terry’s buttock a cheeky squeeze.

The
music from the clubhouse changed tempo, switching from blaring dance numbers to
slower numbers designed to put lovers in each other’s arms.

“Let’s
dance,” Nicole said, grabbing Terry’s hand and pulling him into the main bar
before he could protest.

Inside
it wasn’t quite as crowded as the noise made it out to be. They found a quiet
spot on the edge of the wooden floor. Nicole took his hands and moved before
him with sinuous grace. In contrast Terry felt like Frankenstein’s monster with
added cement shoes.

“I
haven’t had much practice at this,” he said.

“It
doesn’t need practice,” Nicole whispered in his ear. “Loosen up and let your
body follow the rhythm of the music.”

“I’m
frightened I’m going to trample all over your feet,” Terry said.

“Do
that and I’ll trample you back,” Nicole giggled in his ear. “And I have spiked
heels.” She prodded the top of his foot with a wickedly sharp point to remind
him to stay focused.

Staying
focused was not going to be easy. Her arms were around him and he felt the
warmth of her soft body pressed against him. Her perfume, sultry and exciting,
filled his senses. They twirled slowly under the flickering lights, just like
any of the other couples dancing around them. Terry even managed to avoid
treading on her toes.

Terry
didn’t want this to end, but it wasn’t long before he felt a familiar weakness
start to creep up his legs. His breath was coming out a little ragged too. He
knew the excitement wasn’t helping matters.

“I
have to take a break,” he whispered in her ear, feeling wretched that he needed
to cut the dance short.

Nicole
understood. She didn’t say anything as they walked over to the bar.

Phew,
it really was hot in here, Terry thought, feeling a bead of perspiration
trickle down the side of his neck.

“Are
you enjoying yourself?” Nicole asked with a smile.

“Yes,”
Terry smiled back. “Just need to get my breath back. Then we can go up again.”

Even
as he said it the music tempo switched again, going back to fast dance beats
and Terry knew he’d never be able to keep up with that pace.

“Are
you enjoying yourself?” Terry asked back.

Stupid
question, he thought, cursing himself for being silly enough to ask it.

“Yes,”
Nicole replied. “Because you’re enjoying yourself.”

Her
face was as cryptic as ever. He wished he could see her eyes, but they were
still hidden, as they had been all evening, behind those stylish sunglasses.
What was she really thinking? he wondered.

Terry
suddenly became aware of a looming presence standing next to them. He turned
and saw a big bull of a man, easily over six foot and with a close-shaven
bullet head. The man was dressed in an expensive looking dinner suit and had the
overly friendly smile of someone hovering around the point of inebriation.
There was a lecherous smirk on his lips as he looked Nicole up and down.

“You
could do so much better,” the man said to Nicole.

Behind
him the man’s friends smirked like a pack of hyenas.

Nicole
looked him up and down right back, weighing up what she saw.

“You’re
right, I am,” she replied, putting her arms around Terry and kissing him on the
cheek.

“Don’t
be too harsh dear,” Terry said, finding confidence in her presence he wouldn’t
normally have. “It’s hard to find good style in gorilla size.”

The
man’s friends laughed again, this time at him rather than with him.

It
was all very funny until the man slugged Terry right on the jaw. Terry fell
against the bar and slid down into a wobbly squat as his legs tried to decide
whether they were propped up with bone or jelly. His hat went flying off.