Jessica and Sharon

Songs of Dominance

Jessica and Sharon

by

CD Reiss

Copyright © 2013

This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited.

This book is a work of fiction. Any similarities to persons living or dead is purely coincidental

.

Cover art designed by the author

***

The
Songs of Dominance
were released as an experiment. I wanted to write in Jonathan’s POV, but did not know how readers would react. So I released
Jessica
to the people on my mailing list. The response was phenomenal, so I released the second story,
Sharon,
to my ever-growing list.

They were traded peer-to-peer on the Goodreads group,
CD Canaries
, and on my
Facebook
page. I’d like to thank Canaries Tony, Erik, and Donna for their generosity of spirit in sending out the email repeatedly.
But the stories have become canonical, and things are revealed here that will be come important later, so I feel they need to reach a larger audience.

Please read these after
Submit,
or you’re going to run into major spoilers. It’s best if you read before
Control
, but not a big deal if you read
Control
first.

JESSICA

(This begins after the Eclipse show, when Jonathan drives away from Monica’s house)

***

I watched Monica close the door behind her and felt the car dive off that cliff of a hill. Her house would be a deathtrap in an earthquake, and the hill was probably already falling into the backyard. I considered rectifying it. She was no good to me under forty tons of clay and detritus. She was only any good writhing under my hips like a pinned kitten. God, she was one big nerve ending, that girl, and those big brown eyes got just a little wider when she was close. And those bruises. And how she begged for them.

I knew she was special the night I met her, I just didn’t know how special.

I’d gone up to K with Eddie and two other guys from Penn. I was meeting Wendy afterward in one of the hotel rooms. I had one foot in LA from a disaster of a trip to New York, and the other in Seoul for a trip that could not, under any circumstances be anything but a roaring success, or I was going to have to answer questions. I hated answering questions.

So I’d just done the easy thing and took them to K. There had been plenty of nonsense before the tall girl with big, black eyes and long brown hair twisted into braids brought our drinks. The guys were bullshitting about ball and women, when we all stopped to watch waitress come toward us. The night was over. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. Everything was in the right place, naturally. My staff has to look as stunning as the guests. But this girl wasn’t just beautiful, because they all are, she was something else entirely. I was trying to figure out what it was, and she just looked right back at me, as if daring me to make an even bigger ass of myself.

Then she spilled gin on me, and Freddie fired her. The guys tried to reason with Freddie, but the waitress was gone and I had to let him do his job however he saw fit. I was an hour to Wendy with her legs up in the air and I suddenly found the idea depressing. She was gorgeous and shrill and shallow. She blew too much coke and giggled at all the wrong times. She exhausted me. The thought of another night in one of my hotel rooms drained the life out of my limbs.

Freddie told me the waitress’s name, and that she was a sexual harassment case waiting to happen. But I couldn’t let the ebony-eyed girl walk away. I had to look at her again. Five minutes. I’d give her a severance. Whatever.

I heard her outside my office and I seized up a little. I wanted to look at her, but had to be discreet. She slipped in, and I wanted to fuck her immediately. She was so long, so curved, so smooth. Her skirt cupped her ass, and her heels brought her to a couple of inches shorter than me. As my eyes dragged over her breasts, and over the length of her neck, I realized she’d seen me looking again. She put her hands on her hips. Definitely a harassment case waiting to happen, especially considering she was telling me about Freddie’s fucking stupidity. I looked into her eyes. Fire, and pride. Not an ounce of fear. What was going on with that gaze was ten times more interesting than the curves of her body.

“I was going to offer you severance,” I’d said.

“I don’t want your money,” she’d shot back.

“Let me finish.”

She obeyed not just with her mouth, but her heart. Her face got red and she cast her eyes down. Her fingers twitched, but didn’t move otherwise. Holy fuck. I almost lost my breath. This gorgeous, proud creature was submissive.

I couldn’t let her walk into Los Angeles and disappear.

And it had only gotten worse since. Of course, I couldn’t fall in love with her, even if I tried, but I could pass a lot of time with her. A lot.

I wanted to know every twitch, every growl, every moment of desperate need, and eat her alive. If she needed me to be exclusive, I could do it. I’d just put Sharon on ice and stop looking around. How long could Monica last? A month? Two? How long could she make me laugh before she started asking for more? How many things could leave her lips that would make me want to put my face on hers? She couldn’t stay so attractive for long. She’d burn herself out soon enough, but for the time being, I could not have created a more flawless woman.

I felt bad about bruising her, but I hadn’t done half the damage her ex-boyfriend’s piece had done. What a dick. And as soon as I saw that guy, what he’d done, and the way he looked at her, I wanted her for myself. I knew she was going to ask for exclusivity, I could see it in her face, and once I saw that piece, I was ready to give it to her. The thought of her getting hurt bothered me. It wasn’t her personally as much as it was wrong to make their private business so public. It wasn’t that hearing her cry made my fist clench, or that I felt as though I saw some shameful part of her she’d wanted to keep hidden. It was an overall, amoral wrongness. Could have been anyone, and I would have been just as mad.

Well, maybe not as mad.

Damn. I should have taken her home. I had a weird compulsion to reach out to her.

—Thank you for tonight. I’ll call you during the week to check on that baseball—

—You’re welcome—

A flat, emotionless response. Odd. I regretted letting her out of arm’s reach.

—Speaking of…They’re playing the Mets the day after I get back—

—Ok good night—

I sat back. Not even a joke or wisecrack. I shouldn’t have cared, but I did. My phone dinged again, but it wasn’t Monica loosening up. It was Jess.

Interesting that Erik wasn’t there. He usually followed her around like a little beta puppy. Exactly what she needed. Half a man. I took a calming breath and called her.

“Jess.”

“Jon. Where are you?”

She didn’t sound good, and if I judged the whooshing background right, she was already home.

“Coming up LFB.” Our shortcut for Los Feliz Boulevard, from when I was whole and had someone to make up little acronyms with.

“Are you alone?”

“Lil is driving. What’s wrong, baby?” I could have guessed it was Erik, but she’d never admit it.

“Can I see you?”

I looked at my watch. My plane was scheduled out of Santa Monica at six. I could make it if I left Venice by four. If history was any indication though, I’d be out of there in an hour. I wished I could tell her no, but we had too much history, too much intimacy to just turn my back. So I let Lil take me home, then I got into the Mercedes and went to Venice.

Again.

***

Jessica lived on the beach, as her publicly sunny demeanor demanded. I parked and walked up the long stairway to the back, where the pool overlooked the ocean. The furniture was gone, as was the barbecue. She stood alone at the half empty bar with her glass of white wine, still wearing her flowing white dress. It outlined the shape of her body in the breeze, making me think immediately of pulling her legs open, but gently. That brought my hot little goddess back to mind, because with her, gentle was optional. I should have nailed her in the car, bruises or no. I wasn’t any less aroused than her, and now I was in a dangerous position. I wanted to fuck. I had a weight at the base of my cock that needed to drop, somewhere, somehow.

“Jess,” I said when I could see her puffy eyes. “Wasn’t there a party or something? After the opening?”

“I couldn’t take it any more. Smile, talk about popsicle sticks and culture’s effects on childhood memories. Smile. Answer process questions about keeping dead trees alive. Smile again. How are you?”

I snapped a glass off the rack, and Jessica poured me some wine. “I’m fine, really. You called me over here to ask me how I am? It looks like I should be asking you the question.”

She barely paused before getting to the point. “Erik.”

“I thought you were engaged.”

“So did I. Do you want to sit?” She indicated the indoor patio behind sliding glass doors.

The thought of going inside and lounging on a couch with her, which I’d done a hundred times, somehow seemed too risky, so I slid onto a barstool. “Where’s everything? Those hideous fucking lamps are gone.”

She took a deep breath and swished her wine around. “Three days ago, he took them. They were his.”

“Figured.” I didn’t know what she wanted. Was I supposed to sympathize? She had dozens of girlfriends, each with two shoulders to cry on. What the hell was I doing there?

“He found out you were coming to the opening. And he just went off. ‘Why’s this guy still hanging around? Why can’t you cut him loose?’ Blah blah.” She downed her wine. “He doesn’t understand. Or didn’t understand. As you can see, he decided to stop trying, which I guess is for the best.”

“I’m sorry to hear it, but I’m not taking the blame for it.”

“Jon. You don’t have to get defensive.”

“Jess. What do you want, if not to blame me?”

She was a bundle of nerves, which no other person would notice because she never wasted a movement. She didn’t have a set of sweet little tics like Monica. Jessica was still water, her tension revealed in her gaze, which sat in the middle distance.

“I should be frank,” she said.

“You be anyone you want.”

“Not funny.”

I waited until she was ready, because she’d get to it if I stopped cracking wise, and I had the feeling I would want to hear it.

She took a deep breath. “I think Erik had something. I think he was seeing something I was pretending wasn’t there.”

She was squirming. Oh, this was good. Delicious even. I didn’t say a word. I didn’t want to assume she was going where I thought she was because I didn’t want the rug pulled from under me again. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d implied she wanted me back and then turned the conversation back on itself.

“You’ve always been there for me.” She looked up, right at me.

“We were married,” I said. “I told you, I take that seriously.”

She took half a step toward me. I’d been through that before with her, and I wouldn’t lean into her half a centimeter I didn’t have to. I hoped with the same fervor, but I was gun shy. Even when she put her fingers on top of my hand, which she hadn’t done in a while, I was torn. After the divorce, she’d still touch me, but she’d back off like a hosed down cat as soon as I went for her. I was impatient with the games and horny as hell from being around Monica. I felt like a caged animal.

So when she touched my face, I froze, convinced I would spin her by the hair and bend her over. That wouldn’t do at all. Not if I was going to have her again.

“You’re being shy, Jon. That’s not like you.”

“You going to push me away?”

“No. Not this time.”

Fine. I put my hands on the sides of her face so she couldn’t turn and pushed her against the bar. I choked off her squeak with a kiss. She kissed me back. She really did.

The drop in my chest was relief. My stomach tightened. To have my life back. To be back to normal again. With my wife at my side, a sealed unit, unbreakable. I touched my old self when I put my hand on her breast. The completed me, at my fingertips.

I pulled her skirt around her hips and hitched her up. She put her legs around my waist, and I carried her inside.

It was dark with those ass-ugly lamps gone. I wanted light to see her, to believe it. Oh, anything could go wrong between us writhing on the couch and me actually getting my dick in her. I remembered my promise to Monica, but I could explain the next day. I’d be sorry to see that sweet thing go, but woman would tolerate infidelity, and I cared too much about both of them to sneak around. Jessica had to be my choice. I’d taken a vow, begged for it to be honored, and waited so long that turning away the possibility of a reunion seemed ludicrous.