Healthy Addictions Read online

  HEALTHY ADDICTIONS

  A collection of six erotic stories

  Edited by Miranda Forbes

  Published by Xcite Books Ltd – 2011

  ISBN 9781908192677

  Copyright © Xcite Books2011

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be copied, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, electrostatic, magnetic tape, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the written permission of the publishers: Xcite Books, Suite 11769, 2nd Floor, 145-157 St John Street, London EC1V 4PY

  The stories contained within this book are works of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the authors’ imaginations and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Winner of Jade Erotic Awards:

  Erotic Fiction Publisher 2010

  "Xcite has delighted its readers with a wealth of superb titles and first class storytelling. Their titles have far outstripped the others for both quality of the product and sensual erotic content."

  Contents

  Healthy Addictions Olivia London

  Sexual Communication Landon Dixon

  Excavations K D Grace

  7.13 Sommer Marsden

  Friday Nights Eva Hore

  Table Stakes Elizabeth Coldwell

  Healthy Addictions

  by Olivia London

  ‘Don’t ever marry a man with children,’ my sister Trudy told me for the umpteenth time as we sat idle in her SUV waiting for the SUV in front of us to move. It would have been quicker to park and walk inside to purchase our caffeinated beverages but that wasn’t the point. The point was Trudy had paid her dues in this life and the one beyond; when her mouth was set in a hyphen, it was best not to argue.

  ‘I mean, Grant told me it wouldn’t be easy, but ... do I look like an evil stepmother to you?’

  ‘Hey, our drinks.’

  A drive-thru window slid open and my sister paid the cashier for two lattes.

  ‘Here,’ she said. ‘Try not to spill it.’

  ‘Try not to charge any speed bumps.’

  This made her laugh. Trudy’s last husband would insist on driving her everywhere. Sometimes, he was really nice about it. Other times, when my sister was near catatonic with complacency, he’d hand her something hot to drink then speed over a curb or a bump, thereby creating a liquid glyph on one of her designer outfits. Grant was a saint in comparison.

  ‘So, what’s the problem now?’

  Trudy glided like a swan into traffic and for several moments we were silent, sipping our drinks, enveloped in comfort.

  ‘It’s Leonora. Twenty-six going on cougar, if you know what I mean. She treats guys like prey.’

  And girls, I wanted to add. I had met Leonora, or Lee as she preferred to be called, at Trudy’s wedding. She was wearing a shockingly low-cut dress that made me want to bury my face in her bosom. At first, I thought her boobs were fake, but on closer appreciation I saw they were real. At the reception, Lee kept refilling my wineglass and I wondered aloud if she was trying to get me drunk. She told me she didn’t have to get a woman muddled to get in her panties. ‘In vino veritas,’ she had murmured, her lips moving like a pinwheel making my flushed cheek tingle. ‘I just want to loosen the stays of your tongue.’

  Oh, Lee was dangerous. And I figured my sister had enough to worry about; she didn’t need to know Lee was just the sort of green-light girl I lived for.

  ‘How can I help?’

  Trudy gave me one of her I-can-always-count-on-you smiles and said, ‘I’m having a birthday party for Grant this Saturday. I’d really appreciate you being there. Grant’s oldest daughter is in New York doing who knows what. Leonora and Remy will be there, though. Knowing Remy, she’ll bring a paper bag lunch of peanut butter sandwiches and corn chips; she won’t eat my cooking just to spite me.’

  ‘Her loss, Martha Stewart. My mouth waters just thinking about your saumon en croute. I’ll take Remy’s portion of whatever you’re serving.’

  Ignoring the compliment, Trudy said, ‘And Leonora will no doubt show up wearing a Goth black number three sizes too small, giving everyone a nice purview of her crotch.’

  One can only hope, I thought.

  My sister’s lament continued. ‘She graduated from college last year, taking her time to get a degree since Daddy was paying for everything. Since then, she has done nothing.’

  ‘Tell your husband to cut off her allowance; she’ll have no choice but to find work.’

  ‘We tried that, Meg. Leonora said if Daddy cuts her off, she’ll get a job at a strip club.’

  ‘Whoa. She certainly has the body for it.’

  My sister shot me a reproving look.

  ‘Sorry. You haven’t answered my question. How can I help?’

  By now, we had reached my condo in Ballard, a small one-bedroom yellow box of hope bequeathed to me by a maiden aunt. It can’t compete with my sister’s split-level home on Lake Washington, but then, I wasn’t exactly stepmom material either.

  ‘You can try talking sense to the girl. You’re roughly the same age; she’ll listen to you.’

  I highly doubted that, but gave my sister a hug and told her not to worry.

  When the fated day arrived, I gave my brother-in-law his gift which he didn’t bother to open and proceeded to mingle. Grant was a doctor who always paced when he was home; his beeper went off indicating an emergency and he actually looked relieved. He was out the door before his wife could hand him a slice of cake. My favourite, German chocolate. I took an extra piece.

  Grant may have wanted to avoid his prodigal daughter as she rounded the kitchen corner looking like an applicant for a pole-dancing venue. Lee was a knockout. She could have been wearing overalls and a snood while remaining unequivocally fuckable. As it happened, she was wearing a purple crushed velvet dress cut to enhance her luscious cleavage. She walked gracefully in her open-toed platform shoes, her painted toenails winking from their window of vulnerability. The height of her heels gave her shapely gams that gangster’s moll appeal. Remy, a 21-year-old accounting major primly dressed in oxford shirt and jeans, ignored Lee altogether. She was eating from her own plastic baggy of celery stalks, completely eschewing her stepmother’s delightful crudités.

  A tense meal followed. My sister had set plates for me and Grant’s daughters in an alcove away from the main fete. In the dining room were gathered several of my sister’s friends along with two of Grant’s colleagues, other doctors who worked at the same hospital.

  I know Trudy didn’t mean the arrangement as a slight, but I felt a pang of resentment nonetheless.

  ‘Want to get out of here?’ I asked Seattle’s dishiest minx.

  ‘In vino veritas,’ she reminded me, locking her fingers with mine.

  Back at my humble abode, we did have a little too much to drink, and I was nigh ready to loosen my tongue over Lee’s nipples when she surprised me with an offer for massage.

  ‘Where did you learn how to give a massage?’

  ‘I went to school for a quarter but got tired of guys hitting on me. Wasn’t my calling anyway. Still, I always have a tool of the trade on my person.’

  She motioned for me to lie down and take off my shirt which I did gladly. I left my bra on, not wanting to be pushy.

  ‘You’d reap more benefits from my touch if you removed that silly bra.’

  ‘Right.’

  I didn’t have any New Age music on hand, so I turned the radio dial to an “easy listening” station setting the mood for some smooth girl-on-girl moves. I had had a massage once after a car accident but it was in a clinical setting and my practitioner didn’t look anything like Lee. At the first soft pedal of her touch, my mound responded as if being awakene
d from a long slumber.

  I got a whiff of almond and the oil was unction to my skin.

  Lee kneaded my back muscles for a while before cresting up to my shoulders and scalp. Her fingertips on my nape introduced me to an erogenous zone I didn’t even know I had; how can a neck feel so grateful?

  I was wearing a denim skirt which somehow landed on the floor. When I felt a finger gingerly plucking my underwear, I turned over. I looked into Lee’s blue-green eyes and was startled by the longing I saw there.

  ‘I’ve wanted you from the moment I met you,’ she murmured. Then she leant down to kiss me. I kissed her back, grabbing hold of her lustrous hair, a thick trove of locks black as obsidian, long enough to span a guest towel. The propulsion of our tongues surprised us both, and I knew I was about to defy a conventional maxim, the body once enlightened cannot again become dark,or something like that.

  I didn’t care. I wanted Lee’s lips melting over mine; her mouth, the plump magnitude of it, was made for love. I yearned to feel those lips coursing down my sternum before feeding on my nipples and quim.

  Her own nipples guided my sight like beacons as she straddled my torso to yank dress and push-up bra overhead.

  ‘Oh, look at these little strawberries,’ I said, gently tugging the erect thimbles of her areolae.

  ‘Fill your basket, Goldilocks.’

  And so, I had my fill, licking and torquing my tongue over those magnificent orbs. The taste of that mammate flesh would stay with me for days, a saporific memory akin somehow to that first stick of carnival cotton candy and the comforting buoying of marshmallows clouding a mug of hot cocoa.

  We were naked now save for our panties. Lee was wearing a thong of course, basically just a few spokes of string and a swatch of silk no bigger than an eye patch. I yanked at the string which was surprisingly strong but the crotch panel was made of flimsier stuff.

  ‘Do it,’ she commanded. ‘Rip ’em off.’

  I dug my digits into the crotch guard easily and rent right through, like parting Queen Anne’s lace. I was awash with desire.

  ‘Now you’re mine, Lee.’

  Her legs parted in agreement as I cupped her mound with my palm and kissed her some more.

  ‘Fuck me,’ she pleaded.

  Her labial folds were warm and readied; I took my time plumbing their depths. Lee arched her back as I pushed yet another finger into her wetness, my entire hand soon covered with the gossamer of her want.

  She was so beautiful; to see Lee was to want to turn her into a repast. I hooked my hands round her rump so I could lift her pelvis and graze her trimmed pussy with abandon.

  ‘Oh, yes!’ she cried. She said some other things I couldn’t hear, but they were definitely words of approval.

  How sweet she tasted! Like a petit-four concocted just for my delectation. I let my languet explore her corolla before concentrating on her clit. Once my tongue began to cosset that bright pink pip so prominent given a paucity of pubic hair, Lee really began to thrash and crest toward fruition. My tongue faradized that pretty clit of hers as I grasped her buttocks more firmly for ballast. I flicked and prodded and basted that sweetest of sweetmeats until Lee finally quaked and capitulated to orgasm, practically dissolving in my midst.

  We lay in each other’s arms for a while, arms and legs entwined, a filament of her long black hair curling at the corner of my mouth.

  ‘I have a confession to make,’ she murmured, her cyan eyes sparkling like jewels.

  ‘Hmm?’

  ‘I think I’m a lesbian.’

  ‘Well, that’s OK by me.’

  She stroked my back and caressed parts of me that had never been loved before: my ears and brow, the backs of my elbows. I assumed once she came that would put an end to our slap and tickle, but Lee set out to prove she was a lover not a taker.

  She reached between my legs then brought her fingers to her lips.

  ‘I need some of your ambrosia, Meg.’

  I moaned in anticipation as Lee kissed her way across my breasts, down my ribcage and belly before finally honing in on my mound.

  Did I taste all right? That question could hinder a woman’s ability to experience pleasure, but with Lee I lost all my usual inhibitions; she treated my pussy like something sweeter than trifle.

  My fluids surged as Lee alternated fucking me with her tongue and fingers; I could feel rivulets of moisture running down my inner thighs. Her tongue was everywhere, palpating my clit, licking my labia and zigzagging over and over again the length of my vulva. My cunt felt both tight and expansive as if it were an envelope being opened, steamed shut then opened again. When Lee’s fingers left the pomade of my cornet, I jammed them back inside again.

  ‘Fuck me, Lee. Pound me with your fingers.’

  She pinched my clit as hard as she dared sending delicious electric currents down to my wiggling toes. Then, with one arm circling my waist, her fingers packed my quim with such verve and strength of purpose I cried out Lee’s name in ecstasy and came harder than I had ever come before.

  I pulled Lee’s face close to mine and kissed her, our tongues bound together now as if in a salacious pact. I’d pull away or Lee would only to have lips meet again, our tongues churning while our hands became their own hurdy-gurdies, palms on breasts, fingers cranking thighs apart; it was as if we were afraid any stasis would make the music stop.

  Eventually though, even young lovers are called to heel. The phone rang. We ignored it while we continued to kiss and canoodle in the cocoon of my freshly laundered sheets. I never wanted to wash those sheets again, wanted only to smell the skein of Lee when I woke in the morning. The phone rang again and was becoming difficult to ignore.

  ‘Who’s that?’ Lee taunted from the edge of the bed. She was sitting upright with a tangle of sheet covering half her bosom. ‘If that’s your sugar mama tell her I could use a patron too, babe.’

  ‘Very funny.’ Lee knew I worked in a bookstore. It did get tiresome explaining to people that I was bequeathed this condo and I did not, in fact, have a rich lover.

  It was my sister wondering where we were. Oops. Kind of forgot all about that party business.

  I mouthed the name ‘Trudy’ and Lee rolled her eyes before burrowing under the sheets and counterpane.

  ‘Meg, what’s going on? Grant is still on call, no telling when he’ll be home. The guests are gone and I’m alone here with Moody Remy. You and Lee aren’t doing anything crazy, are you? She hasn’t talked you into moving to Vegas, I hope. You’re not the showgirl type.’

  ‘Relax, Trudy. You said you wanted me to talk to Lee. So, we’re talking. And this confab we’re having might take a while, so don’t wait up. Really, everything’s fine.’

  I hung up the phone and went back to bed, that new oasis of joy.

  Lee was propped on one elbow, arching one of her finely plucked brows. Again, one of her breasts was exposed and this time I reached for it like a grape.

  ‘Not so fast, lover girl. Why did your sister want you to “‘talk” to me? I heard what you said. What am I now, some kind of project? I know Trudy wants Daddy to cut me off and if he does ...’

  ‘What? You’ll become a stripper? Don’t talk crazy. We were having a great time. But you know we all have to make our own way in life. You can’t expect “Daddy” to support you for ever.’

  Lee crossed her arms over her chest and eyed me with such a beseeching air of promise, I had to go over and take her in my arms. I kissed her brow and ran my fingers through her long, glorious tresses.

  ‘I’m not trying to be critical,’ I said, though I know that’s what people always say when they take umbrage with someone’s behaviour.

  ‘It’s OK. Criticise away. You’re looking at a latter-day Lily Bart over here. I feel totally fucking useless. I can’t sing or dance. Can’t even keep a customer service job without lashing out at someone because I have what a therapist once called anger management issues. Someone should take me into a field and shoot me. Isn’t that what happe
ns in Of Mice and Men? You can play George and I’ll be Lennie.’

  ‘Stop it! You’re being maudlin. Now, here’s what we need to do. I’m going to give you a robe to wear because your naked body puts an end to all rational thought.’

  While Lee pulled the tie of my velour robe, I shucked into a T-shirt and shorts. Then I had Lee sit at my dinette table with a pen and sheet of paper.

  ‘There. Now, what I want you to do is make a list of all the things you enjoy in life. These things can be silly or serious but they have to be things that make you want to get up in the morning because they give you something to look forward to.’

  Lee pushed swags of hair off her face and went into concentration mode. ‘Do you happen to have a scrunchie? I always think better with my hair pulled off my forehead.’

  I went to the bathroom and returned with a ponytail holder. ‘One of the many advantages of fucking a member of your own sex. You ever need a tampon, you come to me, baby.’

  ‘Ha. So, give me a moment here. I have a lot of things I enjoy doing; maybe I’m not ready to be shoved out to pasture after all.’

  ‘Thatta girl.’

  While Lee made her list, I busied myself in the kitchen, preparing a plate of snacks. When I brought the tray to the table, I saw Lee’s paper was full.

  I took it from her and said, ‘This is great! Wait a minute. You’ve got s-e-x as the number one thing you enjoy most in life.’

  ‘So. Sex is what I enjoy most about being alive.’

  ‘Yeah, well. The phrase Do what you love and the money will followdoesn’t apply to that activity. Or at least it shouldn’t. So, let’s move on to the next item. Shopping.’

  Lee shrugged. ‘Call me a girlie girl. I like to shop.’

  ‘Yeah ... hard to make a career out of that, though.’

  ‘Cruising for chicks while visiting friends in San Francisco. Again, that falls under the rubric of adventure. Not a calling.’

  ‘Now, here’s something. Hanging out at coffee shops. I’ve heard the way you wax poetic about your favourite brands. You should be a barista!’