Exotika 08 - Private Daydreams Read online

  An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication

  www.ellorascave.com

  Private Daydreams

  ISBN # 9781419910296

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

  Private Daydreams Copyright© 2007 J.W. McKenna

  Edited by Mary Moran.

  Cover art by Syneca.

  Electronic book Publication: April 2007

  This book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.

  Content Advisory:

  S – ENSUOUS

  E – ROTIC

  X – TREME

  Ellora’s Cave Publishing offers three levels of Romantica™ reading entertainment: S (S-ensuous), E (E-rotic), and X (X-treme).

  The following material contains graphic sexual content meant for mature readers. This story has been rated E–rotic.

  S-ensuous love scenes are explicit and leave nothing to the imagination.

  E-rotic love scenes are explicit, leave nothing to the imagination, and are high in volume per the overall word count. E-rated titles might contain material that some readers find objectionable—in other words, almost anything goes, sexually. E-rated titles are the most graphic titles we carry in terms of both sexual language and descriptiveness in these works of literature.

  X-treme titles differ from E-rated titles only in plot premise and storyline execution. Stories designated with the letter X tend to contain difficult or controversial subject matter not for the faint of heart.

  PRIVATE DAYDREAMS

  J.W. McKenna

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  Bloomingdales: Federated Department Stores, Inc.

  Cosmopolitan: Hearst Communications, Inc.

  Donna Karan: Gabrielle Studio, Inc.

  Google: Google Inc.

  New York Times: The New York Times Company

  PowerPoint: Microsoft Corporation

  Realtor: National Association of Realtors

  Sex and the City: Home Box Office, Inc.

  Chapter One

  The Leprechaun

  The girls were having too much wine and too much fun. Yes, that’s what they called themselves—“girls”. Not women and certainly not ladies. They were four girls in the prime of their lives, real-life versions of Sex and the City, living and loving in Manhattan. Two were single, two were divorced, but all were veterans of failed relationships. They weren’t afraid to speak their minds about men, relationships, bosses and life in general.

  Now, after two bottles of wine, the women were zeroing in on their favorite topic—sex. It was Monday night, their regular time to get together and rehash the previous week. They were in Suzanne’s living room instead of a restaurant so they felt free to let loose even more than usual.

  “Six years!” Wendy Delano was complaining, her voice slurring a bit from the wine. She was the youngest member at twenty-nine and perhaps the most naïve. A petite woman with a short dark hairstyle, she had long given up on trying not to be “the perky one”. “Six years we were married and Frank never once gave me the Big O! Was it me?”

  It was a common complaint and the others commiserated with her.

  “He obviously didn’t do it right,” said Carol Hopwell, an editor at a publishing firm who was still single at age thirty-three. She was an attractive brunette in a gangly sort of way.

  “The mind has to be engaged as well as the body—maybe that was your problem,” Suzanne Diggs noted, the unofficial “brain” of the quartet. She was a tall redhead who dressed impeccably thanks to her rich ex-husband’s alimony payments and her regular job as a legal secretary. “You had issues with Frank and they extended into the bedroom.”

  “So you’re saying sex is all in your mind?” Wendy asked.

  “Well, sure,” put in Diane Lesher, the oldest at thirty-five and the group’s corporate-ladder-climbing career woman. She had beautiful ash blonde hair that framed a pretty face, but she claimed she never used her looks to get to the top. “We all have our fantasies. Maybe Frank just didn’t measure up to yours.”

  They all hooted at the double entendre.

  “Come on, Wen. Tell us your secret fantasy,” Carol said.

  “Uh-uh. You go first.”

  The other women laughed and called her chicken.

  “No, it’s all right if she’s shy,” Carol said. “Hey, I’m not shy. You should see some of the books that come my way every day. Whoo-ie! Did you know female erotica is the new ‘chick lit’? Gives one a lot to think about. You want to know what turns me on?”

  All eyes swiveled to hers. “Yes! Yes!” came the chorus.

  Carol tipped her head. “It’s not very politically correct.”

  “Ohhh now you have my full attention,” cackled Diane. “Come on, girl, spill it.”

  “Okay. But remember, it’s just a fantasy.” She took a deep breath. “I have this fantasy—sometimes I even dream about it—of being dominated. Forced to submit. Maybe be spanked, you know, to soften me up? I’m not talkin’ about rape. It’s more about being under the control of a sensitive but demanding alpha male, you know?”

  “Wow. I think I need to buy one of your publisher’s new romance novels,” Diane said, laughing.

  “That’s a very common fantasy actually,” Suzanne said. “I read it in Cosmo. You’re a closet submissive.”

  “Really? It seems to go against the grain of the modern feminist,” Wendy said.

  “It’s our inner cavewoman,” Diane said. “We can’t escape it.”

  “Inner cavewoman? Is that real? Are we all just products of our ancient hormones?” Wendy marveled. “’Cause I like to think we’ve advanced a little bit since then.”

  “Come on,” Carol said. “I told you my fantasy, now you all tell me yours.”

  “Oh gosh,” Wendy demurred. “Please, someone else go before me.”

  “Okay,” Suzanne said at once. “I’m game.” She took a deep breath and gave her red hair a little shake. “I fantasize about having a one-night stand with a perfect stranger. Anonymous sex.”

  “Really? That sounds disappointing in a way,” Diane said.

  “Why?”

  “Well, because if he’s a lot of fun, you don’t get to see him again!”

  “I think that’s just the point—it’s something about the elusiveness of it. You know it won’t last going in. You can be a completely different person just for the night and let your inhibitions fly to the wind. You see?”

  “Ohh yeah, I can see that,” Wendy said.

  “Come on, Wen. It’s your turn,” Carol pressed.

  Wendy looked around to see all eyes on her. “All right, all right. But you’ll laugh.”

  “No, no! This is secret stuff. It goes no further than this room.”

  “Of course not,” said Diane. “We’re all friends here.”

  “Well…” Her face reddened. “I can’t believe I’m telling you this…”

  “Come on—you tell me yours and I’ll tell you mine, okay?” Diane said. “Everyone else has already confessed.”

  “Okay—I fantasize about being a prostitute.”

  The other women’s mouths opened in surprise then quickly closed so as not to hurt Wendy’s feelings.

  “Tell us more—I mean, you can’t want to walk the streets in
those ugly little outfits, can you?” Suzanne asked.

  “You would think only of the outfits,” Diane said.

  “No, no. Not like that. I imagine myself being an exclusive call girl who caters only to rich businessmen and world leaders. But the sexy part comes when I must do whatever they want because they’ve paid me, see? I don’t know—it makes me feel all dirty and naughty and sexy at the same time.”

  “I can actually see the turn on there,” Suzanne said. “It’s not all that dissimilar from mine, only in mine, the man doesn’t pay me for the one-night stand. And I want him as much as he wants me.”

  “Or mine,” Carol noted. “You have to do whatever the man said because he paid you, whereas I have to because he’s so strong and virile and he just takes what he wants!”

  They all had a laugh and poured more wine.

  “Hey, now it’s your turn,” Wendy told Diane. “You promised.”

  “Yeah,” the others put in.

  “All right, all right. You’ll probably think mine is the strangest of all.”

  “Ohhh now you have our full attention,” Carol giggled.

  “I fantasize that I’m on display somehow—you know, having sex in public. It could be a dark alley with a man taking me up against a wall, with the risk of people walking by, or it could be I’m making love in front of a class of first-year medical students while a doctor describes my performance. Just the idea that strangers might be watching us gives me a thrill.” Diane took a deep breath. “There, now all our confessions are out there.”

  “That was a good one, Di. I’ve even lived that one!” Suzanne said.

  “Which part?”

  “The sex in the alleyway part. Except it wasn’t an alleyway—it was a dark spot behind some bushes outside my college dorm room. My boyfriend just had to have me and I couldn’t invite him up. So he fucked me up against the wall. It was kinda quick, if you know what I mean.”

  “Ohhh that’s so sexy!” Diane said. “It should’ve happened to me!”

  “I’m sure it sounds sexier than it was. But it certainly was naughty! My mother would’ve shit a brick if she’d ever found out!”

  A moment of silence descended on the group as each thought about the others’ fantasies.

  “Well,” Suzanne said. “Now that we’ve gotten sex out of the way…”

  “Oh you think that’s all we’ll say about it tonight?” Diane said, and everyone had a good chuckle about it. Sex was always on their minds. And men.

  “Ohhh yeah. I’m going to have to try Suzanne’s trick one of these days,” Diane promised. “All I need now is a boyfriend!”

  The women nodded in commiseration and there was another odd silence. Almost as one, they all laughed at themselves and the spell was broken.

  Diane took a deep breath. “For a complete change of subject, let me show you the new shoes I bought today,” she said, and the others nodded, happy to put their strange little confessions behind them for now. She rose and fetched the bags she had stashed in the corner.

  “Just a little ‘retail therapy’,” Diane said. “I’m still getting over Jimmy.”

  “That would’ve never worked. You can’t get serious about a forty-eight-year-old man named Jimmy,” Suzanne said.

  “Yeah, that was funny. I tried to call him James or Jim, but he didn’t like it. He was a Jimmy, like in Jimmy Carter.”

  Diane showed off her new black and white pumps with the two-inch heels and everyone said how pretty they were. She slipped one on and they admired her foot, turning it this way and that.

  “Come on, what else did you buy?” Wendy said, eyeing the remaining packages.

  “Well, if you insist.” She laughed and dug out another box. “This is a silk blouse from Bloomingdale’s. I just couldn’t resist. And a Donna Karan skirt that matches.”

  She held up both so the women could see how they went together. The others made appreciative noises.

  “How about this last box?” Wendy said, peering into the bag, not willing for the fun to be over.

  “That…um, that’s nothing. Just an eccentric ceramic. An impulse buy. I think I’ll take it back tomorrow. It’s kinda weird really.”

  “Let’s see it,” Carol said. “I love ceramics.”

  “Well, I don’t know. You’ll think I’ve lost my mind.”

  “No any more than the rest of us,” Suzanne said, “especially after our confessions!” She hooted and the others joined in.

  “All right.” She pulled a small rectangular box from the bottom of a bag and held it up. “I was walking along 69th Street near the park and I saw this little antique shop. Sometimes you can find real bargains in places like that so I went in. There really wasn’t much of interest, except for this strange piece of sculpture. It seemed to call to me somehow. So I bought it before I even thought about it. Now I’m having second thoughts.”

  “Enough stalling! Show us!”

  “Okay.” She opened the top and pulled out a small green leprechaun. He had his arms up as if gesturing and a big grin on his face as though he had a joke to share. It was a bit weird but it was also…strangely compelling. The three other women all stared at it for a minute before speaking.

  “How old is it, do you know?”

  “Where did it come from?”

  “Can I hold it?”

  “One at a time, girls, one at a time,” Diane laughed. “Let’s see. I don’t know how old it is, but the shopkeeper—who by the way was quite handsome—said it was nineteenth century, which means—what?—1800s? Of course, he could’ve been lying. And he said it came from Ireland of course. I mean, look at it. He said he’d been meaning to have it appraised. It came in on consignment or something.” She hefted it in her hands. “And yes, Carol, you can hold it.”

  She passed it over. Carol took it gently, as if it were a rare artifact, not a strange piece of ceramic. Then she jerked slightly, her eyes glazing over just for a second.

  “Whoa! What was that?” joked Suzanne.

  “Sorry, I just felt a sudden charge, like static electricity,” Carol said. “It’s nothing.”

  “Let me see it,” Wendy said.

  When she held it in her hands, she nodded to the others. “Yeah, I can feel it. It’s like it’s kind of alive or something.”

  “Oh come on,” Suzanne said. “That’s silly.”

  “Try it.” Wendy passed it over.

  Suzanne took it tentatively. “Wow. You’re right. It seems hot or…maybe cool. I don’t know.”

  “Really? It didn’t do that in the store. I’m really not sure why I bought it.” She took it from Suzanne and had a tiny spasm herself. “Jeez! You’re right! It feels completely different now. I wonder why that is?”

  “Maybe it’s haunted with the ghost of its former owner,” deadpanned Suzanne.

  “Stop it! That’s not funny. You’ll make me nervous. I probably won’t get any sleep tonight.”

  “So you’ll take it back?” Carol said, looking wistfully at it. “Can I ask how much you paid for it?”

  “I’m too embarrassed to say. It was too much, I can tell you that.”

  Diane put the object back in the box and packed up the rest of her purchases.

  They moved on to other topics, talking over their hopes and fears and the dearth of good men. After another half-hour, Diane looked at her watch.

  “Well, this has been a lot of fun,” she said, rising and gathering up her bags, “but I have a big meeting in the morning and I’d better not show up looking haggard and hung over.”

  The gathering broke for the evening. The women collected their things and left as Suzanne stood at the door. “Bye, thanks for coming. We’ll do this again soon.”

  She closed the door and leaned against it. She sighed, thinking how much she loved those friends. If her ex-husband had been a friend like that, they would never have gotten divorced.

  She also wondered if she should go visit that little shop to see if they had any more strange items like Diane had
found.

  Chapter Two

  Diane—Public sex

  Diane woke the next morning stiff and out of sorts. She’d had many strange dreams of being naked in public, which she chalked up to her embarrassing “confession” the night before. What was she thinking, telling them that? She should’ve kept it to herself. Now her friends would probably think she’s weird.

  She shook off her lethargy and jumped into the shower. Later, as she was rushing out the door, her mind was preoccupied with the meeting she had scheduled at ten. It was an important presentation and the company CEO would be there. She mentally went over the points she wanted to make.

  At the office, she grabbed a cup of coffee and reread her notes. There would be a PowerPoint presentation of course, but she wanted to keep the static graphics to a minimum and explain her report in words. Before she knew it, it was ten o’clock and time to gather.

  Diane picked up her laptop and her sheaf of notes, heading for the conference room. She met Richard Duncan, her boss, in the hallway. He was an athletic man in his mid-forties and even though he was happily married, he enjoyed flirting with her a little. To Diane, it was innocent fun. She would never try to steal Richard away from his wife.

  “Hey, beautiful,” he said, keeping his voice low. “You’re looking good.”

  “Well, hello yourself. Thanks.”

  “Listen, Paul’s going to be a few minutes late, so do you mind if we start off with Kathy’s report first?”

  “Oh no, not at all,” she said, pleased he wanted her to wait. Let Kathy be the warm-up act.

  They filed in. Besides Diane, Richard and Kathy, there were four other junior staffers there, eager to soak up knowledge and observe the power plays that would be occurring. And Diane knew she was to be the star of the show.

  As Kathy droned through her report, Diane went over her notes one last time. Her laptop had already been plugged into the A/V system so it was just a matter of waiting for Richard’s boss.

  The words on the page in front of her blurred and she found herself daydreaming. She imagined Richard’s hand on her knee underneath the table. She wouldn’t shake it off for fear it might cause a scene, but it was more than that—Diane found the idea arousing. Emboldened, he would move his hand up under her skirt. She had worn pantyhose that morning but wondered what it would be like if she had on stockings and a garter belt—and nothing else. Then her imaginary self could feel his hand on her naked thigh, close to the hot core of her.