Tasting Leon's Mark
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by Laura Tolomei
Category: Erotica/Bisexual Erotica
Description: The world is full of hunters and their prey. But some prey can become hunters themselves while others have hidden claws. Not always surrendering is one alternative for the weak. Surprisingly, such a choice can make life very interesting. It can create new connections or balance pre-existing ones. So, will Sean accept anything for another taste of Leon?
eBook Publisher: Whiskey Creek Press, 2010
eBookwise Release Date: May 2010
5 Reader Ratings:
Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [417 KB]
Reading time: 263-368 min.
"What?" She lowered the music and looked at him, reading a question in his eyes.
"I said, Mr. Sterling's car is ready. You can call him to pick it up and fast 'cause it's in the way." The man turned to leave, then retraced his steps. "Are you all right, Janet?"
She nodded vigorously.
He peered close. "Sure?"
"Yes, Albert, I'm fine."
He did not look too convinced, but accepted her assurance. "All right, little girl." He turned to leave again. "Oh, by the way, Mr. Brooks is coming over to pay for his car."
"What did you do on it?"
"We changed the tires, then fixed the brakes and clutch." He creased his forehead. "All in all, I'd say--"
"About five-hundred dollars." Janet was quick to calculate.
He made a face. "It...may be a bit too much..."
Never enough, considering what a pain in the ass Mr. Brooks is. "I think it's a fair price, Albert. I know how hard you've worked on it."
He shrugged. "As you say, Janet. You're in charge of payments anyway."
And of pains in the ass. She watched Albert leave, his greasy suit rustling.
To work in a San Francisco auto repair with annexed body shop was hardly the most exciting experience in life. The job was not bad...Customers aside. Her father had forgotten to mention this aspect when he had hired her as the accountant of his thriving business. God knows, I certainly didn't ask for slimy clients drooling all over me. Who knows why, they all think I'm a fast one. Maybe the fact she worked in the company of ten heavily muscled mechanics had something to do with it, though she could not be certain. True, she was the only woman at the shop so people just assumed she enjoyed a good time with men of any sort.
"Hello, dearie." A sleazy voice pulled her back to reality. "They told me you've got something for me."
She smiled brightly. "Why, yes, Mr. Brooks." She typed something on her keyboard, clicked the mouse a few times, then turned to get a paper from the printer. "Here's your bill," she announced sweetly, handing him a neatly filled invoice.
He hardly looked at it. "How much is it this time, dearie?" His hand casually slipped from his wallet to land over hers.
Resisting the urge to flatten his palm like a pancake, Janet brought the invoice closer to her face. "It's seven-hundred dollars this time, Mr. Brooks."
He did not even flinch and for a moment, Janet wondered whether he had heard her at all. "All right, dearie." After fumbling in his pocket, he took out a credit card. "And have you thought about my offer?"
I'd rather spend five minutes with a boa constrictor than an evening with you. "Sure, Mr. Brooks, and I'm flattered." She slid the card through the machine. "But...my mom's not been well lately so I have to look after her, especially at nights."
"Then I guess you're always busy." He took back his card, a look of disappointment crossing his face.
The second she held out a pen, his clammy paws grabbed her hand and held on to it.
Slipping out of his hold, she pushed the receipt under his nose. "Please, sign here."
Sweaty palms and wistful looks, though barely tolerable, were still better than outright passes to a woman who was anything but beautiful. Lousy blind pigs. Every time she saw her reflection, she wondered at their lack of taste. They'd go with anything that breathes. Or maybe she was not objective enough.
If she had to think about it, perhaps her best feature was in her small, yet compact size. Intense physical training had shaped her body into a balanced flow of muscles and elegant curves. A dietician once had remarked, "Your body is incredibly proportioned...nothing too thin or too fat for your frame."
Of course, Janet had not believed her otherwise she would not have been there in the first place. Yet, something in her body moved sensually enough to attract some men's attention, though never the right kind. Maybe the rest of me attracts the wrong guys. Coldly appraising her not very tall figure, Janet knew she was a cute brunette with a small triangular face lit by startling huge grayish eyes that changed color according to the weather, rain making them as gray as the sky above while sunny blue days turned them almost green. This alone determined a different face from one day to the next or rather, "An adorable cat look," as her father used to comment affectionately. Too bad, Papa, that's hardly enough to find me a decent man.
Mr. Brooks handed her the signed receipt. "I'm really sorry you're not free this weekend. There's this new movie out and--"
"Yes, I'm really sorry, too." Janet bent her head to put the receipt in a drawer. "Have a good day, Mr. Brooks." And I hope I shan't see you too soon.
Mr. Brooks hesitated again, but she turned to the screen, raising the music's volume and ignoring him completely.
"These men are insufferable." It was a common complaint with her best friend Stella, the depositary of all her secrets. "They strut around like overgrown turkeys, acting as if they owned the damn place and I were a piece of the property."
Stella smiled and Janet stopped talking, dazzled by the blond woman's beauty. Sparkling intense blue eyes, vibrantly alive and knowledgeable, were the first things men noticed of Stella Phelps, but they never stopped there. Like with Janet, looks traveled further down to an arresting figure that spoke of femininity in its every curve. Fascinated, men seldom could tear their gaze away from the enticing blond who often laughed in their face, clearly refusing to play their game. Being men, they never noticed the scorn, too busy appraising the round ass or the erotic breast sway. That's all they'll ever notice. Or so Janet believed, reading their intentions clearly enough. Not that Janet had been any different at the beginning. Like the unlucky suitors, she, too, had felt the intense desire to possess the beautiful Stella, although it would have been difficult to declare it outright. Men were just fine for her tastes, Janet had professed loudly for years, or at least until she had met the one who changed her life.
Laurie was the name of a striking woman eighteen years older than Janet had been at the time. Her first real romantic experience, if she had to be honest, since her few--very few--high school flirts hardly qualified as such. Boys at that age were only a mass of raging hormones who did not know the difference between a woman and an available hole. Janet had hated their indifference while her choosy nature did not help matters. Already endowed with a working brain, she refused to play dumb only for the sake of having someone, anyone, to fill her time. She did not mind being alone on weekends or at nights, especially if the alternative was to spend it with a complete idiot. This earned her the reputation of being snobbish that did little to improve her social life, though it suited her just fine. Not that she was actually a snob, but certainly different from most people she knew.
Nothing dramatic, though she suffered through odd and unexplainable perceptions, playing strange tricks on her mind, flooding her with other people's sensations or images. Particularly with strangers. She often had the impression of seeing events of their lives she could not possibly know, as if she slipped into their shoes and watched things through their eyes, even if she had never seen the person before in her life. And she would come to know fragments of other existences as the images played randomly through her head, giving her an intimate knowledge that could make her anticipate their thoughts or actions. Other times, she perceived what they felt as if she was living the exact same experience, too.
These odd intuitions--easily acceptable during childhood--unsettled her while growing up, throwing her into utterly confusing social relations. The only sensible remedy seemed to be a defensive closure, which prevented the annoying flooding of unwanted sensations. As a result, she carefully analyzed people before getting close to them, accurately selecting her friends.
Laurie had caught her attention the first time they had met. The circumstances were not important. Suffice to say, Janet could not tear her eyes off a woman who was not beautiful, but fascinating. Very slim to the point of being skinny, blue eyes hiding behind thick John Lennon glasses under a sassy reddish haircut, without make-up, Laurie did not need any artificial help to show people her shiny essence because she was a witch, as Janet recalled from their short-lived romance.
Only nineteen at the time, Janet had never considered women as possible partners, believing in society's restraining cliches about gays. In the end though, no amount of rationalization could prevent her from falling head over heels in love with the intriguing witch. Naturally, Janet had not given up without a fight, a hard bitter struggle that surprised her even more than the depth of her feelings. Still, nothing had worked to erase Laurie from her mind so her only option had been to accept the inevitable truth.
Laurie had squeezed her hand in understanding. "You fight against it, Kitty, because you're thinking label-style. You're afraid that if you love a woman, it'll corrupt your taste and prevent you from appreciating men, too. At least that's what society tells us, classifying people and relationships into recognizable and convenient tags. Heterosexual, bisexual, homosexual, gay, lesbian, they mean nothing, except useful categories for a well-ordered society. Luckily, life is much more complicated than their pitiful attempts to cage it and you could easily end up loving a man, a woman...or both."
"So everyone could be gay or lesbian or--"
"I believe everyone can potentially love anyone else, both same and different genders. Sometimes, your inclinations or tastes run to both directions. Other times, it could be just a matter of finding the right person. But most people are simply scared of this incredible potential so they not only hide it, but create rules and regulations to prevent others from discovering it, too."
This plain truth had opened a new level of awareness for Janet. As the confusion cleared, she came to realize she loved Laurie regardless of her gender. The witch could have been a man or a woman--hell, even a dog or a cat--yet I'd have loved her just the same. So she had embraced the new love wholeheartedly, eventually moving in with her lover to live fully their passionate connection.
Needless to say, the relationship had not lasted due to their age difference, incomprehension, sexual dissatisfaction or even her odd insights. Whatever the reason, the variables of two completely different lives could not hold them together. Stubbornly, Janet had insisted on the same path until, after a few bitter fights, Laurie had split town without a warning, much less an explanation, returning the young woman to her golden isolation. The damage, not to mention the pain, had been extensive if not devastating, Janet realized, walking through the empty rooms of what had been their home.
As if waking from a long sleep, she discovered she had an alert mind that, completely unlike her former self, went scouting in avid search of new people. More than once, she caught herself staring at someone, wondering curiously how they would react in bed. On one thing, she had to admit Laurie had been right. Despite her intense attraction to the witch, Janet preferred males as sexual partners, although her romantic life had not fared any better than her high school days. She had her flings, especially straight hard sex, which seemed a disappointment compared with Laurie's sweet lovemaking, but never fell for anyone in particular, man or woman. So she doubled her efforts in seeking special people who could teach her something about life. She hoped there would be a long line of them. Such as women like Stella Phelps.
Exactly what I needed, another intriguing witch to upset my life. Janet had thrown herself eagerly into the new friendship, soon discovering that being close to a woman did not necessarily imply sex. Theirs was mostly a social exchange, made of candlelight dinners, nights at the pub or the disco, drinking and talking until the wee hours of the morning. Mostly, they made fun of life, of themselves and--their favorite topic--of the many men who tried to pick up Stella. Through the jokes and the laughs emerged a deep intimacy, though a different closeness from the one she had known with Laurie. Especially since the blond woman kept a stern physical distance, making it clear to Janet's tortured soul that, even if she did not entirely dismiss the possibility, sex was not what she sought. Her ironic eyes preferred to sparkle when commenting on the poor fools attempting a pass, rather than spark erotic flashes in Janet's direction.
At first, Janet had found the situation hard to bear. Tonight's the night, she would promise herself every time they went out together. Yet, her hints, seductions, praises or adorations never tempted her friend enough. Inevitably, nothing happened and Janet had lost any hope of ever turning the friendship into something more, learning to make do with whatever Stella chose to offer of her precious self, which was practically nothing. Just like what she offered to the jerks attempting to catch her attention in any way possible. Those not easily discouraged would invariably step forward to try their luck up-close, often shot down by a biting remark or look.
Janet was fascinated by Stella's ease in handling these pressing suitors, always with a smile on her beautiful face and a sweet attitude that hid the steel coating. She watched her friend turn another potential lover into brittle ashes. I should learn to be like her, more detached and cool when it comes to men. Instead, she sought something that continued to escape her, despite--
Lost in her music and her thoughts, she had not seen him approach her desk. "Yes, Albert?"
"Did you call Mr. Sterling? His car is in the way so the sooner he picks it up, the better."
"I'll do it right away, Albert."
With a sigh, she picked up the phone and dialed the number.