One of Those Nights

One of Those Nights
Literary Erotica
by Lord Malinov

“Excuse me for a minute,” Grant said, touching Janet’s arm and bending close. “There’s someone I need to talk to.”

“Sure,” said Janet gaily, sending him off with a provocative smile. “I’ll catch up with you later.” Watching his broad green back weave through the crowd, she nodded. “Ooh, he is just so fine,” she said softly, shivering slightly.

‘Hey, Janet,” said Rob, stepping into the empty space beside her.

“Hi, Rob,” she said, still following Grant’s progress across the room.

“Great party,” he said, smiling.

“Yeah,” said Janet, finally giving up her quarry as lost and turning to face Rob. “Shelley always has great parties.”

“I was hoping that Deidre would be here. You haven’t seen her, have you?” Rob asked, a sorry look in his eyes. Janet leaned against the wall and turned her head slightly.

“I think Deedee’s in Florida,” she said. “Shelley said her family always flies down for the holidays.”

“Oh,” said Rob. He shook his empty drink, rattling the ice cubes and lifted the glass to drain a few drops.

“Hey,” said Janet, smiling suddenly at the morose young man, “have you met my roommate?”

“I don’t think so,” answered Rob.

“You should,” said Janet. “She’s a quiet girl, but really great. I had to drag her downstairs. Parties aren’t really her thing, but I think she’d forgive me if I introduced her to someone like you.”

“Okay,” said Rob, shaking his glass. “I don’t mind.”

“She’s really smart,” said Janet. “I’ll bet you two would have loads in common. Come with me.” Taking hold of Rob’s hand, Janet began to lead him through the crowd in the living room, back toward the kitchen. Rob followed compliantly.

“Well,” said Janet. “I wonder where she’s wandered off to.” A tall woman with bushy brown hair pulling a warm tray of puffs from the oven stood up. “Monica,” asked Janet, “have you seen Allison?”

Monica looked back quizzically.

“About this tall, light brown hair, skinny, glasses. She was with me at Carol’s shower.”

“No,” said Monica. “I don’t think so.”

“Thanks.” Janet turned back to Rob. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she snuck back upstairs. Anyway, if I see her, I’ll introduce you to her.”

“Sure,” said Rob, grabbing a warm puff. He juggled it gingerly before popping it into his mouth. Janet slipped past Monica, touching the tall woman gently on the back as she did. “Excuse me,” she said, moving into the dim light of the dining room.

“Janet!” called Shelley, seated on a goldenrod sofa. “Come see my pictures from Cancun.” Shelley shifted down the cushion slightly, making a little room for her friend. Janet sat obediently and looked at the color photographs of Shelley at the beach.

“Here we are getting ready to go out scuba diving,” said Shelley pointing. “It was so warm. I miss the warmth.”

“I do too,” said Frank, “but I’m going skiing next weekend. Just have to make the best of it, I always say.” Janet looked past Frank, toward the front hall, catching a glimpse of a dark green shirt.

“Here’s the boat we went on,” said Shelley, giggling. “See that guy?”

“Excuse me a moment,” said Janet, rising.

“Right after I took this picture, he fell in. It took two of them to pull him out.”

“Ellen,” Janet hissed as she turned the corner past the front hall. “Did Grant leave?”

“Was he the tall one?”

“Green shirt, dark curls, gorgeous.”

“Oh, yeah,” said Ellen. “He just left.”

“Shit!” said Janet. She opened the door and looked along the diagonal patterns of the bare hallway. She considered, for a brief moment, running down to see if he was still waiting for an elevator, but closed the door instead.

Retreating to the kitchen, downhearted, Janet fixed herself a drink and soon found herself reliving Shelley’s entire two week excursion to Cancun.

“Well,” she said sadly, “I guess I’d better call it a night.”

“Thanks for coming,” said Shelley in a sing-song voice, slightly delirious with the success of her party.

“Sure, Shell. See you around.”

Janet walked the long hallway and took the short ride upstairs where she walked an identical hallway and unlocked the door.

“Allison probably had a better night than I did,” Janet said and smirked. “That’d be a first,” she said quietly, flipping on the light. Allison’s jacket lay neatly over the arm of the wicker chair. “I’ll bet she didn’t stay twenty minutes,” Janet sighed.

A border of pale light surrounded Allison’s bedroom door and Janet nodded. She considered knocking on the door, to let Allison know she had made it home all right, but shook her head and went into her own room. Janet sighed, deciding she couldn’t really bear a late night chat with Allison who would undoubtedly be full of analytical insight and plain good sense. “Besides,” murmured Janet, “she’d find out I had a miserable time and then she’d feel even more superior. Might as well let her think I had a great time.”

Janet stripped off her dress and quickly pulled her flannel nightgown over her head, shivering in the cool night air. “Oh, Grant,” she said, lying down under her covers. “You would have kept me warm.” Janet clutched her pillow and closed her dark eyes.

A murmur behind her head caught Janet’s attention. She leaned up on her arms and listened carefully. Janet heard a slight moan and smiled. “I hope the little mouse didn’t have too much to drink,” she thought. Another soft sound was soon followed by the squeak of a bed spring and another and then a gentle rainfall of creaks.

“That little vixen,” said Janet, smiling. “Who would have believed it?” A loud moan, distinctly Allison’s, sounded clearly through the wall. Janet sat up in her bed and pressed an ear against the wall.

“Oh, fuck,” Allison said, short of breath. “Fuck me.”

“Where did she learn such language?” whispered Janet. She felt her nipples tighten and the slight charge of arousal.

“Hmph,” groaned Allison as the rhythmic slaps increased their pace. “give . . . me . . . that . . . cock,” she said between creaks. Janet stifled a laugh.

“I wonder if Rob found her,” she smirked. “I never would have pegged him to move so fast. Sounds like he knows his business, though.”

“Yes,” said Allison, eagerly, “harder, please, push that big stick inside me.” A loud squeal erupted from behind the wall.

“Go, girl,” said Janet, lifting her gown and touching her damp clitoris. Bodies moved over the bed and Janet rubbed herself fast when she heard a male groan.

“I wonder,” Janet said and slowly crept off her bed. On the tips of her toes, she made her way to the door and slowly opened it, nervous of creaking the hinges. She stepped into the dark hallway.

His groans grew forceful. “Suck my dick,” he said, his tone hushed but the words came sharply, articulated. Allison’s door was slightly ajar. Janet brought her face to the crack.

His back to the door, the tall, strongly muscled man stood naked, his untanned ass gleaming in the yellow light beside the rumpled bed. Allison’s china white hands reached around to squeeze the sculptured hard bottom, driving his prick deeper into her mouth.

“Grant!” Janet hissed quietly. At once, he turned to look at the door and smiling, Grant winked. Janet reeled backwards, away from the door and in a leap found her way back into her bed. Clutching the covers to her neck, she frowned, her heart beating an allegro.

“Next time,” Janet said, as Grant’s orgasmic moans thundered through the headboard. “I just should have stayed home.”


About David Cain

David Cain, literary author, bon vivant, rogue romantic poet - author of Witch, Song of Songs, Journals of Lord Malinov, Erotic Romances and others ...
This entry was posted in books, erotica, fiction, literature, literotica, personal, short stories, writing and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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