Vampires and Sexy Romance (86 page)

*****

I knew it was a dream right away.  Dean and Gus were waiting for me, both of them naked, on a large lavish bed.  The four poster kind with amazing bed linens and privacy drapes ... something right out of movies about King Arthur.  I was wearing my scrubs and my hair was a wreck, yet neither man seemed to notice.  They beckoned me to the bed and I moved powerlessly toward them.  They pulled me onto the bed and relieved me of my clothing, both men kissing and licking and fondling my every curve.  Both taking turns kissing me.

Their every touch was driving me wild ... but as they started to sandwich me between them on the bed, I started to freak out.  This was sex with two men.  This was sex with two men at once!

I awoke startled and panting, just as Dean sauntered wet and dripping from the shower.

“You okay?”  He came over and held me.  The intimacy was comforting for a moment, but then I remembered I was mentally cheating on the handsome bastard.

“I’m fine. “  I’m a creep.

“Some sort of nightmare?”

I didn’t dare tell him the truth.   “I was dreaming that I was shopping with my Mother.  And it just never stopped.”

“That does sound harrowing.  Maybe you should call off work.”  He smiled at me and kissed me.  First just a light peck, but then there were his soft lips and then the deep wet probing of his tongue.

I pulled him to me and tried my best to get him into the bed with me.

“I can’t, babe.”  he said.  “I’m booked solid in the OR all day.”

I licked his neck up to his earlobe, my breasts pushing against his arm, my hand stroking his manhood through the towel.

“Really,”  he groaned as I gently bit his ear.  “I’ve got to be at the hospital in ten minutes or we’ll be backed up all day.”

I felt him giving into me, his body becoming warmer, his breathing heavier -- but then I started feeling so guilty.  First I’m cheating on him in my dreams, and now I’m sabotaging his career!

I kissed his shoulder and set him free, playfully pushing him away.  “You owe me one hell of a good time tonight.”

The look on his face was adorably pathetic.  “Tonight?”

“Oh, you’ve got a date?”  I feigned being jealous, but secretly I was petrified at the prospect.

“Just dinner with colleagues from three states ... maybe three continents.”

I groaned.  “A medical convention?”

“Orthopedics.  At the Four Seasons.”  He lay on the bed next to me, sweetly kissing my shoulder this time.  “Just a bunch of boring, bookish surgeon types, talking about the latest procedures.”

“Any of them as hot as you?”

“Not possible.”  He kissed me and then rolled off the bed and threw on his clothes.  I liked watching him dress, especially when he was in a hurry ... especially when he had an erection to contend with.  It was erotic and humorous to watch as he tucked his hard-on down his pants at different angles.

“Don’t wait up for me,”  he said as he slipped his shoes on and kissed me one last time.  It’ll be pretty late by the time I get done.  I’ll just stay at my place tonight.”

“You know where I’ll be,” I whispered in his ear.  “if you change your mind.”

He smiled, a wicked gleam flashing in his eyes.  And then he left.  I listened for the click of the front door, and then I leaned back into my bed and tried to go back to sleep.  And just when I started to doze I remembered what I’d been dreaming about before I’d woken up.

I jolted awake just as the dream started to slide into place again.  I sat up and pulled on my robe, padding out to the kitchen to make coffee.  Extremely strong coffee.  I’d slept enough.

*****

Chapter
19

Without much thought I got ready for work.  Showering in cold water, pulling my hair back in a ponytail, donning my usual scrubs and white cross trainers.  I stopped for more coffee; even leafed through a copy of Vanity Fair ... I caught myself checking out these great shoes on one of the catour model ads when it hit me I was reading a fashion magazine.

What was happening to me?

Then I saw it, on the next rack, on the cover of Cosmo:  “What to do when you’re juggling two men?”

I stood there rooted to the spot.  It was like the fashion magazine gods were speaking directly to me.  Nervously I picked up the prophetic periodical, thumbing through the extensive table of contents.  There, halfway down the second page of listed articles and interviews was “Multitasking Your Love Life” by Diane Lynch.

The caption: For the woman that finds one man not enough, here are some hot tips on keeping yourself safe, sated and sane.

The sane part seemed to call to me.  I closed the magazine and paid the news stand guy, then walked distractedly to the hospital.  What I really wanted to do was stop everything, sit down and read the article.  I needed advice ... and not from Bess.  Her advice was simple and easy--my mounting problem was anything but.

I seemed to have lost my sense of direction, because I kept walking right past my last turn to the hospital.  I was a good ten minutes late when I finally made it to the building.  But as I came upon the entrance I saw Gus walking slowly but steadily into the hospital.  His limp was almost gone and he didn’t seem to be favoring a leg.  But he still looked in pain.

He also looked hot as hell.  In the light of day his handsome face was groaningly sexy.  His body, though on the mend, was achingly sinewy... those broad shoulders and that even broader chest!  And just flickering my eyes down his back to those glutes ... those fine, firm muscles that I’d been massaging just yesterday...

I suddenly felt myself engulfed in the flames of a hot flash.  Not the menopause kind, but the horned up shameless slut kind.

I might as well have an S branded into my shoulder, maybe a neon sign mounted on my chest.

I backed away from the hospital, pulling my cell phone out just as I turned to flee.  “Hey, yeah Jim, it’s me.  I’m coming down with something nasty.  Don’t want to infect everyone.” 

“Don’t worry,”  Erin said on the other end of the connection.  “The Ball Player isn’t due in today.  We’ll be fine.” 

I was glad they’d be fine.  I wasn’t sure I would be.

*****

I hadn’t smoked since college.  It had only been during my senior year.  I’d started drinking and partying, and carousing with all types of men.  I didn’t sleep with more than two of those guys, but I did take much of their hard earned weekly allowances during poker games.  I was nervous about leaving university life and joining the work force.

Back then my worst fear was failing as an independent woman and ending up like my Mother.  I didn’t realize then what a business savvy individual she’d been, or that she’d helped Dad so much with his accumulation of wealth. 

So when I picked up a pack of Menthol Ultra Lights on my way home I knew I was nervous.  So nervous that when I opened the pack and drew it to my lips I suddenly realized I hadn’t bought a lighter to light the damn things.

I couldn’t bring myself to leave the apartment, so for the rest of the day, roughly half a pack, I used the top burners on my electric stove to spark up by. 

Strangely enough I didn’t start coughing.  I didn’t feel sick or nauseous.  Unfortunately for me what I felt was instant relief.  I must have been addicted to them five years ago.  And now my body was just picking up where that addiction had left off.

I also suddenly felt incredibly hungry.  For lunch I ordered in hoagies from the sandwich shop down the street.  (I ordered in junk food -- ice cream, Swedish fish, Twinkies, and Two bags of Cool Ranch Doritos -- from the market across from the sandwich shop.)  And then I ordered a veritable smorgasbord of Chinese delights from The Sichuan Garden, one block past the market.

I was in a sugar comma in front of the TV, dunking a Twinkie in Duck sauce, when there was a knock at the door.  I padded slowly from the couch to the door and looked through.  Dean.

I opened up and gave him a wan smile.  Could he smell the unfaithful thoughts rising out through my pores?

I’d changed into my favorite faded night shirt -- stained with sweet and sour sauce -- coupled with worn fuzzy pink slippers.

Somehow this rather un-sexy get up was making Dean’s eyes start to heat up.  Sick bastard, I thought as he pushed shut the door and drew me in and kissed me.  In moments I was lifted of my feet as he carried me back to my bedroom.

He hadn’t said a word ... obviously my adulterous feelings hadn’t been apparent to him. He didn’t bother taking my stained night shirt off, or my fuzzy slippers, simply pulling my panties off with his teeth.

I watched as he pulled his shirt open and started unbuttoning his pants.  I suddenly wanted him inside me so much that I pulled him atop me and ground my pelvis against his.  I could feel him hardening from mere rubbery woodiness, to granite.  He pulled away from my kiss just long enough to retrieve a condom from my drawer and snap it on his cock.  For the next hour we grappled and fucked in every imaginable position.  I moaned and groaned so loud I was hoarse, my voice no more than a rasp.

Afterward, as he sank into after-sex sedation, I lay there in a cold panic.  The sex had been great, as usual, but now instead of being satisfied I felt sick, my chest tight, my breathes coming with effort, my blood cold as it pumped through my heart.  I felt like I was cheating -- but on who?

I hadn’t fantasized about Gus the entire time with Dean, so I should be happy, right?  But instead I was freaking miserable, lying there next to the man I‘d been with for almost two months, the man that was in love with me.

What the hell was wrong with me?

*****

The next morning, after Dean had left, I called off from work again.  I didn’t know for sure that Gus would be coming in, but I decided to play it safe.  I was munching on the second bag of Doritos when I suddenly saw the copy of Cosmo sticking up from my book bag.

The article.

I pulled it from the bag, checked the table of contents again, and then flipped to the right page.  There was a rather erotic picture of a naked woman lying on a bed between two also naked men.  No erogenous zones were visible, but the sight left me reeling.  Looked just like my dream, where I was being pulled into bed with both Dean and Gus.

I shook my head and slapped my hand over the picture.  I could practically feel it burning through the palm of my hand, so I pulled the page down, dog-earing it hugely enough to cover the entire photograph.

I started to read.

“For many women in the sexual jungle, in this new millennium, monogamy has lost its charm. Most of these newly emancipated women have suffered through bad relationships, failed marriages and the much hated toxic bachelors of the world.  They have evolved from desperate single women into a force of nature that finds the love -- or better yet, sexual intercourse -- of one man not enough.

“In the past many men, if not all, have dated multiple women concurrently with impunity.  Passing from relationship to rebound fucking, to dating, to just fucking around (stringing us along) at nausea.

“Today’s feral woman has decided enough is enough.   Thus many beautiful, successful women of all ages have started fucking like their male counterparts.  Mature women have started courting and bedding younger, more adventuresome men.  Thirty-something’s have been dating and mating with two or more men at a time -- with fabulous results!  And the young woman of today doesn’t even try to maintain the traditional relationship, finding the paradigms of their Mother’s relationships -- broken marriages, broken lives -- more than enough evidence of the marriage establishment's monumental failure.”

I stopped reading.  There were two more four column pages left to the piece and I already felt dirty and depressed.  I wasn’t any of these women.  True I had slept with about three men my senior year in college, and I’d had four boyfriends -- three of them making it into my bed.  But never had I dated more than one man at a time.  I had certainly never slept with more than one...

But now I was mentally committing the same sin.  I had Dean in my life, in my bed... and he loves me.  And then there was Gus.  Whom I thought was gay all this time, and now knew to be ardently heterosexual and interested in me.

I tossed the magazine in the trash.  I wasn’t going to find answers to my problem between its covers.

*****

I watched Life Time Television for a few hours, pleasantly surprised to find the Mom from Family Ties was still busy making movies ... even if only for TV.  Unfortunately the movie was both depressing and riveting.  I watched and teared up and felt worse and worse -- yet I never once thought to change the channel.

By the time it was over it was twenty minutes till noon.   I riffled through my stash of take out menus and found an Italian joint not far away.  I considered just walking the short distance there, but then I got a look at myself in the mirror.  I looked hideous.  Mostly because I’d forgone a shower ... and crying somehow makes your eyes red and puffy -- has the same effect on your nose.