Trust Fall

Trust Fall

Book One of The Trust Trilogy

Tess Quince

Copyright © 2014 Tess Quince

All Rights Reserved

Chapter Seven

BEN SHEPPARD CALLS ME A few hours after I stormed out on Susan. Danielle is right, he does have a sexy phone voice.

The first thing I say is "Thank you for breakfast...and the flowers...and the gift."

"You're welcome," he says in that voice. "I'd like to see you again if that's okay, but I'm tied up the next couple of days. They've got these guys working major overtime down here and a half day Saturday. I kind of need to be here to make sure it all gets done right. Are you free Saturday evening?"

"Sure. You want to come by at seven again?"

"Can we make it five?"

"Five?"

"Yeah, I hope I'm not out of line, but I noticed a few things at your house that needed fixing. I thought I'd do that for you before we go out."

"You don't have to do that."

"I don't have to, but it would make me feel better. You've got a wonky kitchen drawer and a toilet that runs. That'll really do harm to your water bill."

"Well, thanks. I'll be sure to pay you back." That last bit falls flat and sounds clunky. I'm no good at sexy talk.

"No, no need."

"Five it is."

I feel silly. I feel like the plain girl asked out by the star quarterback. I hit the 'end call' button and float through until Saturday. I talk to Danny every day and he was so happy on Friday when they got into California. "The mountains were so BIG, Mommy."

I spend Friday night preparing. I eat a salad and do some yoga to a DVD I bought long ago and used exactly twice. I take a nice bath and shave my legs. For the first time, I shave my pubic hair. I start off just thinking I'll tidy it up. I shave a bit here and a bit there. Suddenly things have gotten away from me. Soon I am completely bald. It feels strange and sexy at the same time. It feels as if I'm not wearing underwear. I hope he likes it.

He ignores my doorbell again and knocks on my door. According to my hallway clock it is three minutes after five. I look at myself in the mirror in a linen dress with a small string of pearls. Good, I think. I open the door for him.

The first thing he says is, "Sorry about how I look."

His hair is a mess and he's not shaved. There's a layer of gritty looking stubble on his chin that thins out as it gets closer to his hair. His stubble is flecked with little hairs of silver. There's a smear across his heavy blue work shirt and his jeans are dusty and there's paint splattered across the toes of his work boots. A leather tool belt hangs from his hips.

He looks glorious.

"We ran late at the job site and I thought a shower would be a waste if I get into something messy here. I didn't think you'd mind if I washed up and shaved here. Would you?

"No," I say.

Can I watch?

"I've got a change of clothes in the truck."

I look around him at the truck. It's sitting in my driveway big and aggressive. I'm glad he drove it.

I want to go up on my toes and kiss him hello, but it doesn't seem completely right for some reason. It seems too forward or familiar somehow. He solves the problem by doing that thing he does with his fingertips on my chin. I yield to the gentle upward pressure and lift my face to him. He breathes a kiss across my lips.

He releases my chin and I drop down to my heels.

"So you look ready to work. Where do we start?"

I feel silly saying it. He smiles at me and looks charmed.

"We start with that running toilet then I'll look at that wonky drawer. Also, I noticed you have a downspout that doesn't come out far enough. We let that go and you'll have a damaged foundation."

"Wow, you sure you haven't worked enough today."

"It's no problem."

I walk him to my bedroom's bathroom for the running toilet and he looks so big in the small room. There's no place really for me, but I don't want to abandon him.

"I'll be okay," he says dismissing me politely.

I walk around the house straightening up. There's not much to straighten since I scrubbed the place this morning and afternoon. I bring him a glass of water then sit on my couch flipping through an entertainment magazine somewhat half-heartedly. I don't want to look lazy or ungrateful to him, but I don't know what to do with myself.

I listen to Ben fixing my toilet in the other room then he walks out to the kitchen and I hear the drawer empty and I hear a power tool and I hear the drawer slide in and out better than it did when we moved in. He changes a light bulb that I can't reach and that I've never managed to get myself to drag out the step ladder from the garage and replace. I listen to the door open and he goes outside. I guess he's looking at the down spout. It's nice to hear him work. It feels so comfortable having him here. I think of ways I might be able to repay him tonight.

He walks through the living room and gives me a smile.

"I hope you're hungry tonight," he says and I say that I am.

He's in my bedroom and I hear him doing things with his tools.

"Tess, you have a pen and paper? I need to make a list. I gotta make a run up to a hardware store for a few things."

"There's some in my nightstand," I say.

I panic.

"No, wait," I yell.

I'm frantic. I run into the bedroom.

The drawer is already open and Ben Sheppard is holding a black eight inch dildo that's been sitting untouched in my nightstand drawer for the past year. He turns his head and gives me that mischievous smile of his.

Damn it, Danielle.

Yes. I blame Danielle.

About a year ago, she invited me to her bridal shower and, in a weak moment, I accepted. She looked so eager for me to come and the truth was that I was feeling lonely for female companionship. Susan was around back then, but we had been growing distant after I broke with Josh then even more so after I co-signed her lease. So I showed up for the shower at the Montgomery Inn Boathouse restaurant at eight o'clock as instructed. The place is right on the river with nice panoramic views and offers ribs with a sweet bar-be-que sauce. I was wearing a nice outfit and had brought a gift in a pink pastel gift bag. The gift is a nice silver picture frame. I thought it would come in useful for the bride and groom.

I handed my keys to the valet who zipped off with my car. Danielle didn't invite anyone else from the office, so I knew I wouldn't know anyone except Danielle. I didn't see her waiting for me so I checked in with the hostess. She said that Danielle's party hadn't arrived yet. Eight-fifteen rolled around and I started to get irritated. I walked down the steps and went out the front door to get some air when I see a monstrous SUV limousine pull around the corner. It's thumping overly loud dance music. The valets open the doors and I hear a female voice screech, "Those mother fuckers..."

Danielle stepped out along with eight friends. They'd been drinking.

"Tess," Danielle yelled too loudly. "The best fucking boss in the world."

I smiled at Danielle but cringed inside. An older couple were looking agog at this gaggle of foul-mouthed women and at me.

"I'm sorry," I mouthed to them. They seemed to take my apology for an obscenity because they distanced themselves further down the valet stand.

"Tess, these are my friends."

Eight slightly drunk women looked at me with disinterest and, without saying anything to me, they began making their way up the stairs. I followed and the hostess was pretty quick with seating us. I sat a few seats down from Tess and a round of cocktails was ordered.

It took what seemed like twenty minutes for the waiter to get our order and I notice that most of the women have ordered a salad. I look at the waiter in sympathy. They reserved an eight o'clock table for ten on a Saturday night and they not only showed up late but were only ordering low-priced salads at a renowned rib place. For the waiter's sake, I hoped they would pad the bill with booze, but for my sake, I hoped the women slowed it down on the drinking.

The waiters and porters brought out the salads and my half slab of ribs. I had ordered ribs because that's what you do when you go to the Montgomery Inn Boathouse. Most of the woman were finished quickly even though it seemed like none of them had time to eat since none of them had stopped talking and swearing the entire time.

At some point, guest bags were produced. I got one that was pastel like the bag I brought my gift for Danielle in, but this one had the outline of a bride's dress on it and "Danielle" on the other side written in glitter that started to fall off on my clothes and into the restaurant's carpet as soon as it was given to me.

I opened the bag up. It was full of pornographic kitsch. There were suckers in the shape of little penises. There were a pair of plastic, furry handcuffs and a toy riding crop and at the bottom in a box with a cellophane peephole was a large black dildo. I was amazed. I thought I got a gag gift. I looked up expecting to be the butt of a joke, but everyone else's bag must have had the same things. I saw three bridesmaids sucking on the phallic lollipops and two had removed their dildos—one pink and the other white flesh colored—from their boxes and were fencing with them. They were parrying and jabbing with eight inch latex cocks.

I looked to the next table and see what appeared to be a birthday party for an elderly man complete with open-mouthed pre-teen grandsons witnessing the phallic swordplay happening at my table.

The manager came over and told Danielle that they would either have to settle down or, at the least, move into the bar area. I was mortified. She was miffed. Her friends egged her into arguing the point.

"We're paying customers having a good time. We're not allowed to have a good time?"

The manager was patient and professional. He managed to get the women to the bar area where they were no more welcome but at least were out of sight of the children.

I hung back. The night looked like it could spin out of control at any moment, but I was concerned for Danielle.

She stumbled near me and I helped her up.

"Tess, Tess, Tess. I have a question."

"Yes, Danielle?"

"What do you think of when giving blow jobs? I think of shoes."

I ignored her question but propped her up against the bar. She seemed to be holding on okay. I didn't want to answer her. In fact, I couldn't. I've never given a blow job so I wouldn't know what I thought about. Probably, I'd be thinking about the cock in my mouth.

She took another long drink. She was determined to get blindingly drunk. I wanted to leave. I wanted to go home, but there weren't any of her friends who didn't look plastered. I was the only sober one. I was unsure of what to do.

One of Danielle's friends settled that for me.

"Hey, Danielle's boss," I looked to my left. "You're a real skinny bitch."

She was a tall, hippy, good-looking woman. I don't consider myself too skinny and she didn't look fat.

"But I like you," she said.

I tried to remember if we had spoken earlier in the evening for her to like me. I didn't think it mattered.

She reached into her gift bag and pulled out a black dildo like my own.

"You know what I'm going to do with this when I get home tonight?" she said. She doesn't wait for me to reply. "I'm going home and fucking my husband's ass with it. Just to show him how it feels."

The hell with this, I thought. I left. I was pissed. I'd had a horrible night. I love Danny, but it's nice to have a rare night out and this was how this night out gets spent? With a bunch of obnoxious, drunk skanks? I storm out the front door and hand the valet my tag. He pulls the car around and I get in. I realize I'm still carrying the gift bag with the penis pops and the black dildo. Whatever. I go.

I get home and change into my PJs. I'm sober, but now that I'm home, I crack open a bottle of white wine and pour myself a large glass and down it in three swallows. I didn't eat many of the ribs I had ordered and the wine felt as if it skipped my stomach and went right to my head.

What a bunch of disgusting whores, I thought.

I poured another large glass full of wine and head back to my bedroom but that gift bag piques my interest. I didn't look at that dildo closely and I'm curious. My head was swimming. I fumbled to the car and brought the bag in. I felt like I needed to hide that I had it—even in my own house. I took the bag and wine into my room and sat on my bed. I unwrapped the dildo and let it fall on my bed. I didn't even feel right touching it but the wine was making me horny. Or as horny as I got back then. I did touch it. It was designed to look lifelike with a circumcised head and veins running down the length of it.

It made me think of Randall Abernathy. Randall was one of Susan's boyfriends during her 'fuck ourselves brown' period. I always liked him. He had this mocha-colored skin that I found fascinating and his white teeth gleamed so bright. That was nice because he was always smiling and laughing. He was earning his Ph.D. in English Lit and if he had a glass or two of wine we could get him to recite Donne or Shakespeare or Chaucer. Randall didn't have much of a body. He spent his time reading, after all, but he had this behind that looked like you could screw it off. I would sneak peeks at it when he was over to visit Susan. Once I caught him late at night at the fridge in his underwear and it looked so nice.

I missed Randall. He was in England now doing some work with The Globe. He sent me a postcard saying he may make tenure already. Susan really missed the boat on that one.

I would have fucked Randall, I thought. I bet he would have been good for me. He would have made me wet.

I stared down the dildo. I was challenging it. Don't think I won't lube you up and fuck you, I thought. I poured myself another glass of wine and drank fast. I was hoping the wine would give me courage to do it. I curled up my legs and sat Indian style in front of the faux cock. I imagined this monster in me. It frightened me but excited me at the same time. I could do it. I could lube it up and fuck myself, I thought. I looked at the bottle. There was about a quarter of the wine left. I looked to the dildo.

The next thing I know the doorbell rang. I looked at the clock. It was ten A.M. Fuck, I fell asleep. My head roared in pain. Shit, I'm wet. I looked around. The bed's wet and so are my PJs. Did I piss the bed? I scrambled out of bed and racked my knee on the bottle. No. I fell asleep and spilled my wine all over the bed. The doorbell rings again.

I knew who it was without answering the door. It was Josh dropping Danny off two hours early. This was during his 'not ready to be a dad' phase.

Fuck, Josh, you couldn't deal with Danny for another two hours?

That was a year ago. Before I answered the door and let my lovely son into his home, I tossed the big black dildo in my nightstand and it has sat there un-fucked ever since.

"Do you use this often?" Ben Sheppard asks rolling the shaft of that same big black dildo over his fingertips.

I think of going into the whole story of how it ended up in my nightstand, but I only say, "No. Never, actually. It was a gag gift. This is embarrassing."

"Never?"

"No. Honest. Almost. Once."

He laughs a small laugh and looks up at me. His eyes are gleaming that emerald green again.

"Come here," he says.

I slowly walk to him. I love the way he looks. I think he's going to say something wise and profound about human sexuality. Or shame and guilt. I want to hear something that puts me at ease with the situation of my white lover finding an eight inch black cock in my nightstand drawer. He doesn't say anything.

Ben Sheppard grabs my two wrists in his large left hand, turns me, and I find myself bent over his knee. He hikes up my skirt. What the hell, I think. I feel his palm come down hard on my right ass cheek. Ouch! The sound of the smack bounces around the room.

I try to right myself, but he grabs a bunch of my hair at the scalp and pins me across his lap. There's another smack. I try to fight it again, but I feel that wetness flooding me. It's a new sensation still and I enjoy it. I ask, What the hell again, but this time of myself. I'm liking this? He smacks me again and I think I might like it. I let him smack me twice more and I feel like I'm dripping into my panties. Yes, I like this.

He releases my head and I think he might be done, but he's now tugging at my panties with both hands. I look back and he's ripping my panties with his teeth. Once he's got a small tear he pulls them apart again. The sight of it almost makes me come and I face forward. He smacks my bare ass. Yes. Fuck, yes. It shoots through my body. There's another smack. I want to say yes, yes, yes, but something's holding me back.

He stops and I feel a tickle on my thigh. I look back and down and it's the remnants of my panties torn and wet. I look at him. He has the black dildo in his right hand. His eyes are flaring green and a slight smile crosses his lips. He puts the head of the dildo into his mouth. He's moving it and running his tongue over it inside his mouth. He's getting it wet for me.

I face forward afraid and excited.

I feel the tip press against my opening. God, it's so big feeling already. It's in me. Between his spit and my wetness it seems to just glide in. In fact, it feels like my pussy is pulling it into my body. Ben Sheppard motions it back and forth, in and out. With each stroke, he goes slightly deeper. He grabs my hair again and snaps my head back.

"Are you comfortable?" he asks in his low growl of a voice.

I nod my head yes as much as his grip allows.

He takes his hand off the cock. I clench it in my pussy and it holds even as he forcibly spreads my legs further apart.

He takes another firm grip on the cock and speeds up the thrusting. It goes deeper and deeper in me. It's larger than any man I've ever had before and I'm wet enough to take it. I feel like I'm getting split open in such a wonderful way. Involuntarily, my hips start working themselves against the dildo. Slowly at first then I speed up. Yes. I'm fucking the cock as much as Ben is fucking me with it. I think, bigger is better! Ben is better. After the other night, I'm prepared when I start to feel a climax build inside of me. It's a nice shiny light of joy in my pussy and with each thrust of Ben's strong hands the light gets brighter. It's nearly here and I brace for it. I dig my fingers into the legs of Ben's jeans. There's a thrust that seems deeper than the others. It touches me in a place I didn't know existed and the light explodes. I'm coming again. I start to laugh. It feels so good to come. It feels good to know the first night with Ben Sheppard wasn't a fluke. Yes, it's happening again. I'm a woman who can come now. With the realization, I let myself laugh out loud as the last of the orgasms passes through me.

As I catch my ragged breath, Ben slows his thrusting. He pulls the dildo slowly out of my body. I hear a plop sound and feel a void. I need that void filled. I want the dildo back in me so much, but I want Ben Sheppard in me also. Ben pushes me upward with his legs and guides me to a standing position with his hand still holding my hair. I'm woozy. He tosses the dildo on the bed with a thwop.

"That was nice," he says.

I only manage to mumble and shake my head yes. He lifts my chin up again with the tips of his fingers and places one of the those delicate kisses on my lips.

Oh, those are nice Ben, but I want fucked.

He puts his hands on my hips and backs me up against the wall. He leans in for a deeper kiss filling my mouth with his lithe, hot tongue. I let my hands roam across his shoulders and down his back. He feels bigger, he seems to tower over me. He steps back and unbuckles his pants and I hear them hit the floor. His hands are on my hips and I'm being lifted up. I'm above him looking down then he lowers me slowly on his cock. It's not as big as Randall the dildo, but it's warm and real and it's Ben. His thrusts are slow, but strong and he keeps his mouth on me as best he can. He's holding the back of my head so it won't crack into the wall. I want to fuck him back, but I'm pinned. I want to make him feel as good as he's making me feel, but all I can do it take him and his cock.