No need for last names, she decided, pulling her hand away from his massive paw before her fingers got scorched. At the moment, she couldn’t remember her own surname, let alone Rita’s.
He shook her friend’s hand, too, then his gaze drifted back to Shelley. “Well, I’m jealous of the groom, whoever he is. Lucky bastard.”
Rita laughed, as though he was joking, but he didn’t smile. Shelley didn’t know what to say. With his blue eyes staring into hers, she couldn’t get her tongue off the roof of her mouth.
“I’ll tell you what, Shelley,” he said. “If you need any tutoring, you let me know, okay? I could arrange a little classroom instruction.”
Rita’s laugh degenerated into a coughing spell.
Shelley’s mouth went dry—no way she could utter a word, even if she could think of one. Indignation followed on the heels of shock. What balls!
The renegade part of her brain, which could always be trusted to find humor in anything outrageous, painted a naughty image of Thor’s hands-on demonstrations.
“Call me anytime,” he insisted, keeping her pinned with his unwavering gaze. “Bring your friend if you want. Meanwhile, I’ve got a video I’d like to loan you. It will make a good companion for the books we picked out here. You can keep it up to a week.”
He broke the paralyzing connection by turning away and searching through a shelf full of videos.
With his muscular arms, flat stomach and firm ass
, Shelley thought,
he shouldn’t have any trouble attracting women. Why is he hitting on me?
Rita thanked him effusively for his help, her lips moist with drool. The woman’s behavior irritated Shelley beyond reason.
When Shelley stumbled out to her vehicle carrying a bag with the two books and video, she tried to ignore the little voice in her head that pointed out what an attractive hunk Thor Ryersson was. Not the suave, sophisticated handsome type, but the earthy, commanding, sex-god type of guy. He would dominate a woman, she was sure. Just thinking about his hypnotic gaze made her weak in the knees. Sensual awareness set nerves quivering in intimate places.
Rita climbed into the car and slammed the door. “Whew! He is HOT! Wasn’t wearing a wedding band, either.”
“I didn’t notice.” Shelley started the car and pulled out into traffic.
“I think he was coming on to you, Shell.”
“Oh, you think?”
“I’ll bet he would make a fantastic tutor.” Rita cackled with glee.
Shelley stomped on the gas and gained a measure of satisfaction when Rita’s head bounced off the headrest. The wind whipped her friend’s long, dark tresses into twisted cords, while her own shorter hair ruffled benignly around her brow and ears.
It would serve Rita right if she ended up with dreadlocks
, Shelley thought peevishly.
“Hey!” Rita clutched her hair in both hands to restrain the wildness. “This wind is a menace! Do you have a scarf?”
“Nope. Sorry. Maybe you can pull a pair of your new edible underwear over your head.” Shelley braked with a screech of tires at the intersection where the light had turned from yellow to red. Rita pitched forward, folding in half and exhaling audibly under pressure from her seat belt.
“That’s exactly the kind of man I hate,” Shelley grumbled, remembering Thor’s bold gaze. “Dickie never behaved like that, not from the first time I met him. The first guy I didn’t have to worry about fighting off all the time.”
Rita glanced around. “Where are we going?”
The light turned green, and Shelley applied the gas with vigor. “I thought you wanted to go to the mall over on Third.”
“This is the wrong direction,” Rita wheezed, as the G-force pressed her back into her seat.
“Oh, shit! So it is.” Shelley abruptly pulled into a mini-mall so she could reverse directions.
“Hey, watch it! You about gave me whiplash!” Suddenly, Rita snickered. “I know what’s wrong. Thor got to you, didn’t he? I thought it was just me who got all sweaty.”
Shelley tamped down the irrational urge to push Rita out of the car. Instead, she concentrated on pulling into traffic again. “He was disgusting!”
“He was a hottie! He’s the kind of guy I would go after if I weren’t already married. I would hire him in a minute to tutor me. Maybe I’d get him to wear studded leather belts and a helmet with horns. And tie my hands behind my back while he—”
“Jesus, Rita!” Shelley’s jeans suddenly felt too tight. They were digging into her crotch, she thought, and getting her all aroused.
“I’m married, but I’m not dead!” Rita drummed her blood-red nails on the top edge of the door. “I should have asked if the Bad Boys could perform on some night during the week. We could change the date of your party.”
“Rita, I changed my mind. I don’t want strippers, after all. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“Whatever you say,” Rita said glumly. “I was looking forward to watching a bunch of guys strip down.”
Shelley shook her head in wonder.
“It’s all your fault. You started it.” Rita brightened. “Hey! You are going to share that video and those books with me, aren’t you?”
“Maybe. We’ll see.” Shelley’s frown turned into a smile as she realized how much Rita wanted to help. “Thanks for buying them for me—the books, I mean. You’re very generous. Eventually, Dickie will get something out of them, too.”
* * * * *
For several minutes after the two young women left his store, Thor Ryersson remained behind his counter, grateful to be hidden from the hips down. He’d gotten wood from just thinking about teaching the leggy blonde about sex.
When they’d first entered his establishment, he couldn’t believe his eyes. Women like that seldom visited his store. Obviously naïve, they’d looked around wide-eyed at his inventory. Probably had never seen anything like it before.
In the circles he traveled, he rarely saw innocents like that—especially the tall, willowy one. The whole time, Shelley had been blushing and shifting her gaze away.
Undefiled. Uncorrupted. Utterly irresistible.
He smiled, remembering how shocked she’d looked when he suggested tutoring her. Innocent or not, she’d seen right through his gambit. A woman like her, wary as a doe, would never in a million years take him up on the offer, but wouldn’t it be mind-blowing to show her a thing or two?
She was supposedly engaged, but he hadn’t seen a ring on her finger. He wouldn’t be surprised if her friend’s comments about a wedding shower were a cover story to explain her interest in sex toys. Maybe the blonde was actually available.
With a sigh, he adjusted his pants to accommodate his aching balls. A guy could dream, couldn’t he?
Chapter Two
Following her visit to High Score, Shelley stayed up late that night reading the first book Rita had purchased for her from cover to cover. The X-rated manual blew her away. She couldn’t lay it down until her eyelids drooped, heavy as manhole covers.
She awoke early on Sunday morning and groped for the book on her nightstand. By the time she finished it, the sun was high in the sky, and she had a bad case of the hots. No, she wouldn’t mention to Dickie that she owned dirty books. They would remain her secret. Even in her wildest imagination, she couldn’t picture herself indulging in some of the kinky activities it described.
It wasn’t as though she were totally naïve. She’d lost her virginity years before, but in her experience, which included teenage groping in the backseat of a car and a couple of one-night stands, sex hadn’t lived up to its publicity. She knew there had to be more to it than the missionary position and a two-minute quickie.
Now that she was aware of the possibilities, she realized she had more to learn. Just the thought of exploring those possibilities put her in a perpetual state of arousal.
What worried her was that Dickie might not understand any more than she did about the pleasures of the flesh. What if he turned out to be one of the wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am variety?
One way to find out!
She picked up the phone and hit Dickie’s speed dial number. Anticipation made her pulse flutter. The receiver pressed to her ear trembled slightly.
God, my nerves are taut as wires!
He answered on the third ring.
“Dickie? Let’s do something today. Why don’t you come over?”
“I’m just heading out the door, sweets. John—you remember my friend John? Anyway, he asked me to take a look at some property he’s thinking of buying. I told him I’d give him my opinion.”
She groaned. “On Sunday? Your day of rest?”
“I told you about it on Friday, remember?”
“You did? Shoot! I was hoping we could do something today.”
“I’d like to, but— Hey, if I get back in time, I’ll give you a call, okay?”
“All right. See you later.” Dispirited, Shelley broke the connection.
The worst case of restlessness she’d ever experienced set in. Feeling twitchy, she prowled the house, searching for some means of relief. While running a load of dirty clothes through the washer, she sat atop the machine during the spin cycle, but the vibrations only made her condition worse. Desperately, she rummaged through the vegetable bin in the refrigerator, but only found lettuce and broccoli—no zucchini, no carrots, no cucumbers. Obviously, she was behind in her grocery shopping.
By nine that night, she gave up on Dickie. Obviously, the louse had forgotten his promise to call and arrange to come over.
Feeling stymied, she tried watching late-night TV, but couldn’t concentrate. All she could think about was trying something a little kinky, something out of the ordinary. Taking a hot bath and playing with herself under water was okay up to a point. She enjoyed the orgasm, but it didn’t do much to diminish her wild urges.
She still thought incessantly about pleasures of the flesh. Desperation led to panic.
Am I becoming a nyphmo? A sex addict?
* * * * *
Answering phones all day Monday at the Toyota dealership where she worked was sheer torture. She couldn’t wait to get home, grab a snack and start reading the second book. Maybe not such a good idea, considering the state she was in, but she couldn’t resist. The problem had become bigger than she was.
A man was what she really needed. A man with magic in his fingers. A man who knew his way around a woman’s body.
Granted, she had a fiancé she could call on, but no way would she call Dickie until he contacted her first with an apology for standing her up on Sunday. If his friends were more important than she was, he could go sit on a tack!
Sure enough, the fictionalized anecdotes in the second book describing various sexual games left her squirming with damp panties and a state of undiminished ardor. The idea of wild sex with vegetables lost ground to higher technology. If she couldn’t have a real live man between her legs, she would settle for nothing less than an animated object with moving parts. Was she going to have to humiliate herself by going back to High Score and buying a mechanized dildo?
When she finally stumbled on the perfect solution, she slapped her forehead. How stupid could she be? Was she the only woman in town who hadn’t instantly recognized a muscle massager for what it really was? She wouldn’t have to suffer the knowing look of Thor Ryersson as she made an embarrassing purchase. She could head for the local discount store and look for a bargain in the small appliance department.
That night she took a massager to bed with her. The cool sheets had a sensual effect on her feverish skin. She applied the buzzing metal probe, sans attachments, to the cluster of ultra-sensitive nerves between her legs.
She yelped and arched off the bed. Too strong! After experimenting with various settings, she found the perfect combination. Tingling, quivering, shuddering stimulation drew her into a vortex of pleasure.
Ahh, yesssss!
As delicious tremors spread throughout her lower body, sexual fantasies in vivid color reeled through her mind…
A Viking looking a lot like Thor Ryersson, dressed in animal skins and studded leather belts, stalks her across the barren wasteland. She tries to hide in a ravine, but as he gets closer and closer, she knows it’s no use—he’s bound to discover her.
Her nakedness is cloaked with her hip-length hair. She shivers with dread as she watches the entrance to the ravine. A sound tells her she isn’t alone. She whirls to find the menacing Viking looming from behind. He seizes her and binds her arms behind her back. Helplessly, she kicks out at him, but he is huge and unbelievably strong. She might as well kick a boulder.
He throws her over his shoulder and hikes out of the ravine. He drops her on a bed of animal furs spread out on the sand. Darkness falls. As he builds a fire, she watches his every move. The red light of the flames outlines his silhouette, highlighting the bulging muscles in his arms and shoulders. His bare thighs below the loincloth are thick as tree trunks. A deep hunger grows within her, a longing so strong she wouldn’t run away if she could.
He crouches over her, releases her bonds, and gives orders in guttural sounds. She is too frightened to disobey, so she lies back and spreads her legs at his command. He fumbles with his primitive garb,
freeing his massive organ. It juts from his loins, thick and long. On hands and knees, he positions himself over her.