Noone Else on Earth Read online

  “I need a lift to the motel.”

  Julie smiled. “We’ve got that covered. We’ll give those of you needing a lift about twenty minutes to get your gear and then we’ll have rides for you to the motel. We’ll meet in the back by the fence.”

  The men gathered around Connie, quickly scrawling their names next to their slots then hurried upstairs. As the last tight butt whisked out the door, the girls sat back and sighed.

  Connie turned to the others. “I know I said I’d help chauffeur some of the men, but I can’t. Bill expects me back soon.”

  Julie couldn’t help notice a shimmer of hesitancy in Connie’s words.

  “Since when do you have a curfew?”

  Connie shook her head. “It’s not that. He had to heat his own dinner tonight, and it’s just, he likes things a certain way ...” Tears brimmed in her eyes. “What the hell. He doesn’t trust me. He thinks I’m going to screw the first man who offers to do me the favor of fucking me.”

  She rummaged through her purse, looking for a tissue. Patty handed her one of her own, patting her hand as she did so.

  Connie continued, gulping a bit as she fought back more tears. “I don’t know what he’s concerned about. According to him, he did me a big, fat favor marrying me, with the emphasis on ‘fat’.”

  Sweet Patty surprised them all with the vehemence of her reaction. “That son of a bitch. I wish I had him here. I’d tear off his prick!”

  Connie peeked over her shoulder at Gary hovering over by the bar. Maybe he was spying for Bill. “Hush, hon. It’s all right. Bill doesn’t hit me or anything.”

  Tory shook her head. “Not yet. Why didn’t you tell us?”

  Julie sighed. “Look, Connie, you don’t have to take any kind of abuse from that jerk. Just say the word and I’ll drive you over to Gettysburg and the women’s shelter there.”

  Connie gripped Julie’s hand. “No, no. Please. I mean he’s right. Who else would have married me?” She lowered her voice. “Bill thinks I tricked him. He was my first and when I didn’t get my period, I panicked. I thought I was pregnant. Bill’s mother heard me confess to him and forced him to marry me.” Her voice sank to a whisper. “And then it turned out to be a false alarm. He’s convinced I tricked him on purpose.” She shuddered. “He won’t give me a divorce. He says it’d kill his mother. She’s such a staunch Catholic. Please. I’ll be okay.”

  Reluctantly the other women nodded.

  Julie stood up. “Okay. We’ll let you go. But you call my cell phone after you get home.” She looked her straight in the eye. “Let it ring three times and I’ll know you’re okay. If you ring me twice, I’m coming over.”

  Connie nodded.

  The other women gathered their purses and left. Connie watched them go with mixed feelings. She was touched by the depth of their concern for her, but regretted that she’d mention the situation with Bill. She wiped her nose and crumpled the tissue in her hand. Standing, she looked around for a place to get rid of it.

  A wastebasket appeared near her hand and she tossed it in. Gary stood holding the basket, a perplexed look on his face. “You okay, Con?”

  Bill’s spy. She pasted a big, phony smile on her face.

  “I’m fine. Just a little allergy. All this dust. You know. I’m good.”

  He put a gentle hand on her arm. “You sure? You need a lift?”

  “I’m sure. I have my car here. I’m just getting ready to leave. No need to worry about me. I’m going straight home.”

  He gave her a quizzical look. “Okay. Tell Bill I’ll see him at the Bowl ‘n’ Burger Sunday after church.”

  She nodded, then walked out shutting the door behind her. Her car was parked around back, the only one there.

  She was at the door when a voice sprang out from the dark. Tzahyad, morphed into Gary’s form, the embodiment of Connie’s hidden desire. His Enhancer had revealed her secret yen for the craggy bartender.

  “Connie, I’m glad I caught you! My truck won’t start. I was going to call for a taxi, but do you think you could give me a ride? If it’s not out of your way, of course.”

  The voice gained a body as Gary moved into the pool of light from the neon security lights.

  For a moment Connie hesitated. Gary’s house really wasn’t out of her way; then she thought of Bill. She straightened her shoulders. Who was he to give her a curfew? Besides, Bill trusted Gary. She unlocked the door.

  “Sure, hop in.”

  Gary’s velvety voice deepened. “I’m actually glad the truck died.” He slid into the front passenger seat and slammed the door shut. “I really appreciate this.” He smiled.

  Connie caught the smile and fumbled with the key. His hand moved, covering hers as she put the key into the ignition. Her hand trembled, but steadied when he released her.

  “You know I’ve always thought Bill was a lucky man.”

  She laughed. “You tell him that!”

  “You can’t tell me that he doesn’t appreciate having a woman as beautiful as you to come home to.”

  Her laughter grew just a bit shrill. “Beautiful? If you like your women fat.”

  He put his hand on her thigh, putting a bit of pressure as he caressed her.

  She sat silent, leaving his hand on her leg, while the car remained in the darkened parking area.

  “He’s a fool.” His hand moved up an inch or two, nearing the juncture of her legs. He gathered the material of her skirt in his fingers, crumpling it and revealing the top of her thigh-high stockings. Moisture collected in her pussy. She shifted and his fingers delved deeper, touching her there, fondling the little nubbin.

  She stammered. “What are you doing?”

  His laughter, warm as mulled cider, filled the car. “Giving you what you deserve.” He leaned over, resting his chin on her shoulder. His breath fanned her cheek. “You deserve more, darlin’.” His hand took hers and placed it on his crotch. His erection strained at the zipper. “You deserve this.” He arched beneath her fingers and she automatically clutched at his flesh. “Wouldn’t you like a little? Wouldn’t you like to feel someone who appreciates the beautiful woman you are, fuck you for all you’re worth?” His fingers moved again, this time slipping deep, touching her core. She clenched her thighs around his hand, even as she tried to tell him to stop.

  “Don’t. I’m married to your best friend. I ... ah. Yes. Oh, God, yes.”

  He thrust almost his entire hand into her hot, slick sheath, priming her for his prick.

  “Do the seats fold back?”

  For a second, Connie didn’t understand the question. Too overcome with passion, she nodded.

  “Push back your side and I’ll do the same.”

  As though she had no will of her own, Connie adjusted her seat.

  He withdrew his hand, and quickly unzipped his pants. His erection sprang out, full, thick and long. Ripping open a packet, he placed a condom over his steel-hard penis.

  Connie licked her lips. She’d never tell Bill, but compared to men she’d seen in magazines and films, he was woefully inadequate. Gary made even the pinup in Playgirl seem lacking.

  And he wanted her.

  She leaned back, spreading her thighs.

  * * * * *

  Tzahyad gloried inside. He knew he’d picked the right prey. This fleshy female oozed sexual energy. He could feast off her for days and not tap her core. He raised her legs, resting them across his thighs. He reached up and slowly pulled down her thong, tossing it aside. His cock tipped the entrance to her cunt. He throbbed, relishing the small delay before he plunged into her hot, wet pussy.

  She lay passively on her back, probably as her mate liked it. He grinned wolfishly. That would change. He’d have her writhing beneath him, begging for more in minutes.

  “Is there anything wrong?”

  Her anxious voice broke into his reverie.

  “Not a thing, darlin’. I was just admiring your sweet, sweet body. Open your shirt, sugar tits. I want to see those big, juicy ba
bies.”

  With quivering fingers, she pulled up her shirt, and opened the front clasp of her bra. Her nipples were long, hard pointy tips.

  Tzahyad licked his lips, then bent and took one deep into his mouth. He suckled hard, nipping it.

  She moaned.

  He took the other between his fingers and rolled the tip, pinching it.

  She arched up, thrusting her pelvis.

  “Yes, sweet, darlin’. I love those juicy titties of yours. Bill’s an ungrateful bastard. I’m gonna eat those tits and not leave him anything.”

  With his skillful tongue and teeth, Tzahyad soon had the big blonde begging for him to fuck her. Her fingers gripped his cock and she squeezed.

  “Please, in me. I can’t take any more. Please, please.”

  “Please what, little darlin’? You gotta tell me what you want, sugar tits.”

  Connie took a deep breath.

  “Fuck me. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck ...”

  He covered her mouth with his to silence her and fondled her soft, plump mounds.

  It was time.

  He released his essence, overwhelming her with a depth of sexual energy she had never known. It called to her, demanding that she give it all her drive.

  She couldn’t resist.

  He drove into her, plumbing the depths of her core. Thrusting over and over as he gripped her waist. One hand moved up to play with her nipple, tweaking it just hard enough to send an extra charge of lust coursing through her.

  She raised her knees, giving him greater access. As her climax grew, she felt weak, overcome with passion.

  He bent his head, drew the other nipple into his mouth and bit down lightly.

  With a piercing cry of ecstasy, she let the pounding waves crash over her, drowning her.

  She passed out.

  * * * * *

  Connie moaned and elbowed into a semi-upright position. She turned confused eyes around the interior of the car.

  The first thing that struck her was the time. Late. Too late. Almost eight-thirty.

  Bill was going to be so pissed.

  The next thing she realized was the ache between her thighs and the sticky feeling on her skin.

  She took a deep breath.

  Sex.

  The car reeked of sex and sweat and men’s cologne.

  What the hell had happened?

  She switched on the interior light and took inventory.

  The increased lighting revealed that both seats were back. Her skirt was up to her waist and her thong was nowhere to be found. Her bra was open and her shirt pulled up.

  And she only had one stocking.

  Had she been raped?

  Wouldn’t she have known it?

  Wouldn’t she have bruises?

  She straightened her clothes and examined her body more closely.

  There on her breast was a hickey, the imprint of a mouth larger than Bill’s.

  She gripped the wheel, leaning her head against it.

  Bill was going to kill her.

  * * * * *

  Patty dropped off the last of her riders at the pizza place in town. They each pecked her cheek when they left her, telling her how much they appreciated her help.

  She smiled, wishing them a good night.

  She pulled into the garage behind her store, locked the car door and took the stairs two at a time to her little refuge. Watching all of those firm, muscular bodies had set off a need in her that had to be met.

  She knelt down by her bed and pulled out a flat, storage chest. Taking the tiny key from around her neck, she opened the case and removed a tray, laying it aside.

  Displayed for her eyes only were various titillating costumes from crotchless panties to a dominatrix’s leather bustier. Tonight she’d just strip down to what she had on.

  She neatly hung up her skirt and blouse, folding her slip and placing it in her lingerie drawer. She kicked off her shoes, then bent down and put a shoetree in each, leaving on her thigh-high, sheer black stockings with the lacy tops. A tiny red satin garter belt with black and red garters was attached to the stockings and she left that on, too. Opening her closet, she pulled out a closed shoebox. Inside was a pair of black stiletto heels. She slipped them on, knowing that they’d give her a more provocative posture.

  Her skimpy thong left nothing to the imagination and might as well not have been there for all the flesh it covered. Her peek-a-boo bra had cutouts for her small, pink nipples.

  She smiled as she ran her hands down her well-fleshed figure. Placing her hands on her hips, she sashayed over to her CD player and put on her favorite Peggy Lee tune, “Fever.” An oldie, but she loved the rhythm of the piece. She’d first heard it when she’d volunteered at the nursing home in town. The little old ladies were exercising to the strong beat while Peggy Lee sang at her sultriest best.

  Now Patty strutted around her bedroom, bumping and grinding, tossing her hips and shaking her breasts, getting in the mood for the next step in her evening.

  She slowly sank to the floor next to her treasure chest, murmuring the last few words with Miss Peggy. “What a lovely way to burn.”

  Her juices flowing, she picked up her favorite dildo, an old-fashioned carved ivory piece she’d found in an antique shop in Paris. Traveling was one of her greatest indulgences and each place she visited yielded another prize for her sexual playtime.

  She lay back on her bed -- another luxury covered by crimson crushed velvet, and viewed her image reflected in the overhead mirrored tiles. Sexy. Sinful. Seductive. Opening up her nightstand drawer, she drew out a little covered pot of scented oil. The fragrance of jasmine wafted in the air, curling around the downy hair shielding her femininity. With a delicate touch born from many nights’ practice, she spread the lubrication on her moist flesh.

  The balm was special, a concoction she’d picked up in Haiti. As the effects surged through her body, she moaned. She felt on fire with need. Picking up the ivory dildo, she spread a bit of the oil on it. Slowly, with infinite patience, she slid it between her nether lips.

  She groaned.

  Before she lost herself completely in self-gratification, she picked up the remote control and the CD changed to her own private mix. The seductive strains of Antonio Banderas and Ana Belen singing a duet poured forth. She knew the translation by heart -- “I don’t know why I desire you.”

  She closed her eyes, imagining Tony Dominguez as she had seen him that hot summer night by the quarry. Naked, the moon shining down on his massive erection as he stood knee-deep in the water.

  This time, though, the scenario changed. She stood on the bank, waiting for him to come out to her. Her hands on her hips, her breasts thrust proudly; she waited for her imaginary lover.

  He said not a word, just grabbed her skimpily clad body to his and thrust his penis between her thighs, teasing her. She knew instinctively what he wanted her next move to be.

  She knelt before him, his cock within reach of her mouth, and she took him in deep, so deep. She licked his flesh, running her tongue along his length, tasting the water, tasting him.

  He gripped her curls, compelling her to finish him, to give him release. His seed spurted, filling her mouth. She swallowed every drop, relishing the taste. Falling back onto the ground on top of a blanket, she waited for him to grant her her own pleasure. She undulated her pelvis, enticing him with her body.

  Back in her apartment, she thrust the ivory wand deeper, rotating it. Her pussy clutched around it and she willed herself to return to her dreams of Tony.

  He lifted her buttocks and plunged within her. He crooned wordlessly as he moved rhythmically, pleasuring her.

  The music switched to another duet with Banderas, this time Tina Turner sang about her wildest dreams. The music was driving, percussive. The erotic accent of the Spanish actor blended with the voice of Tony Dominguez. She let the vision drag her deeper under its spell.

  The ivory phallus moved faster as her body trembled on the brink of total release. She to
ssed her head back and forth on the down-filled pillow. The velvet coverlet under her sensitive skin seemed almost too rough.

  Pulling down her bra, she released her lush breasts from their imprisonment, her nipples pebbling as she fingered them with one hand while the other plied the antique wand. Finally, her body worked into a frenzy of desire, her orgasm gripped her and she came.

  Screaming.

  Below in the darkened street, Tzahyad listened to her cries and smiled. He’d found his next prey.

  * * * * *

  Tory hummed along with Faith Hill as she turned into the parking lot of her garden apartment. She got out of the car, still humming as she unlocked the apartment door.

  Switching to Shania Twain, she sang out, “Honey, I’m home.”

  Stalking from her bedroom, a marmalade colored cat twined its lithe body around her legs, mewing a greeting.

  “Hello there, Desperado. Miss me?”

  The cat mewed and Tory smiled.

  She found his food, dumped it into his dish and went into her room to change.

  Comfortably dressed in a ratty robe, she sat down before her computer and turned it on, checking her mail first thing.

  And there it was. School Days reunion service had come through. Rick Hartman’s email queued with about thirty others, waiting for her to open it.

  She took a deep breath and clicked on it. The first thing she latched onto was her name in the subject line and the words -- “One Hand, One Heart.”

  She closed her eyes then opened them.

  He’d answered the School Days’ overture.

  Now it was her turn to respond.

  She scrolled down to the message block and began to read.

  He remembered.

  He wanted to continue writing to her. He wanted to get together. He’d missed her. He was going to be in town in a few days. Was it too soon to arrange for an evening?

  Tory shook her head. Not soon enough.

  Her fingers flew and her heart sang as she answered Rick’s email.

  Chapter Four

  Julie stood in the parking lot in front of Real Bad Boys near her parked car. She stepped back to the edge of the lot near the roadside and gazed up at the flashing neon sign.