Author's Note: The following is a work of fiction. All participants in sexual activities are over the age of eighteen and enthusiastically consenting. This story contains some anal play including the use of a butt plug. Enjoy!
__________
HERE YOU COME AGAIN (AND AGAIN)
by Eosphorus
"
Open afresh your rounds of starry folds,
Ye ardent Marigolds." - John Keats
PROLOGUE: AUGUST 1999
She's all over him the moment they're through the front door. Kissing him, pulling him close.
He's caught off guard, but only for a moment. He wraps his arms around her, gathering her in. Her feel, her taste. Her scent!
He's wanted this all summer. Since that first day of work. Flirting, joking around. Catching her looking his way. Getting caught looking hers.
But...hesitation. She's only eighteen. Fully legal but four years younger than him. An awfully big gap at their age. Or not.
Then tonight. She asked if he could drive her home. Her car was in the shop. Mentioned her parents being out of town. Invited him inside to show him something.
Now this. They make her way into her bedroom, stripping off each other's clothes. Hands fumbling with buttons. A bra unclasped, panties slid down.
They fall into bed. She's uninhibited. Aggressive, even. Pushing him onto his back. Placing her hands on both sides of his face and kissing him deep. Then sucking his cock. Devouring it would be more accurate. Hard sucking while fingering herself. Then climbing atop him. Riding him hard. She comes screeching and moaning. His cock throbs inside her not long after.
A second round begins after a few minutes rest. More eager fucking. Instant sexual connection. Like they can read each other's minds.
They lay together after.
"What happens now?" she asks.
Good question. In a few days they go back to school. Five hours away in opposite directions.
He doesn't know what to say. What
can
he say? "I don't know. If it's meant to be, we'll run into each other again."
It's bullshit and he knows it. So does she.
___________
OCTOBER 2023
Twenty four years.
She looks incredible. Her smile, her long brown hair. And those eyes, as bright and dazzling as ever though now behind fashionable eyeglasses.
They hug. Her closeness brings with it a flood of memories. Instant arousal, also.
Think of it! Marigold, back in town. Standing in his store. Looking better than anybody has a right to.
She breaks off the hug. "Damn, Jeff, you look great."
"So do you."
"I'm sorry I'm late," she says. "I was looking at a house down the street."
"Thinking of moving back home?"
"Hope so," she says. "I could never afford to until now."
Their eyes meet again. There's an awkward silence. "This is my store."
Smooth. Real smooth.
She grins. "I love it! Imagine my surprise when I learned you were the owner."
"Imagine my surprise when I learned you were coming." Jeff gestures towards the shelf of current bestsellers. "The legend herself."
She walks over to the display. Jeff gets a longer look at her. She's in a lavender sweater, black tights, and tan boots. She's rounded-out a bit and pleasantly so. Grown into a short, curvy MILF with an ample bosom and a soft derrière.
Exactly like the main character in her book. How interesting.
"Can I confess something?" she asks.
Anything.
"Sure."
"I've been going out of my way," she says. "Visiting bookstores whenever I can."
"As a bookstore owner, I endorse that practice."
She runs her fingers over the copies of her book. "I seek it out on the shelves. It's like a dream."
So is crossing paths with you again.
She pulls a copy off the shelf. "It's hard to believe my name's on the cover." She turns it over. "Or the 'About the Author' is about me."
"That must be wild."
"Listen to it. 'Marigold Martin is a first time author who makes her home in Syracuse, New York. She lives there with her daughter and three cats.' That's surreal."
One kid, three cats. No mention of a husband. "It must take some getting used to."
She replaces the book. "It does. Same as being back in town."
"It was weird for me when I moved back. I didn't expect to start a bookstore."
"It's the most beautiful one I've ever seen. Wasn't this an insurance agency or something back when?"
"A bank before that. Can I show you something cool?"
Marigold nods. "Always!"
He walks her to the science fiction section. "We call it the Vault."
Marigold's face lights up and it's like a sunburst. "It's an actual bank vault."
"Isn't it cool?"
Jeff never tires of showing people. The massive door is propped open behind a table displaying an assortment of puzzles for sale. Inside are three walls of books from floor to ceiling.
"You know, it was robbed once," he says. "During the Depression."
"A bookstore with lore!" Marigold steps into the Vault. "You know, I don't think I've ever been in a vault before."
"There's a first time for everything."
Marigold gives him a mischievous smirk. "There is indeed. Where's the interview taking place?"
"We'll have to use the Metedeconk Theater across the street. We sold four hundred tickets."
Marigold steps out of the Vault. "These crowds."
"You can imagine the hype," he says. "Homegrown author, and all. We'll keep the interview to an hour. The signing, too."
Marigold shakes her head. "I'll stay for as long as it takes to sign every book. I have zero plans for the evening."
Sybil emerges from the back room. "You must be Marigold. I'm Sybil. We spoke on the phone."
They shake hands, making a remarkable pair. Sybil is short and squat with buzzed hair, lots of piercings, and huge tits. She's also wearing a hot pink t-shirt emblazoned with the words "Lesbian AF."
Sybil sits Marigold down at one of tables in the coffee bar, diving into every detail of the evening. She stops abruptly, turning to Jeff. "What the hell are you doing standing around like a big dope? Looking like a beach bum, too. We're recording in an hour! Shower and get dressed."
"I'm going, I'm going." Jeff heads towards the stairs.
He pauses, glancing back. After all these years, huh? Marigold waltzing right in the door. Looking at him with those eyes of a brighter green than he's ever seen.
Damn.
__________
Marigold takes a deep breath.
She can do this. She's done this before. Dozens of times.
Yeah, but never here. In front of so many people who know her.
"You sure there's nothing you need before you go on?" Sybil asks.
Marigold hears the steady murmur of the crowd on the other side of the curtain. Butterflies flutter in her stomach. "Once things start, I calm right down."
"Don't worry. Jeff's great at putting people at ease."
No doubt! Those eyes of his alone could do the trick. Or get her worked up. She's never met anyone else with that particular shade of blue.
Jeff strolls in.
Sybil rolls her eyes. "About time."
He's changed into jeans and a dark green sweater. It shows off his build better than the hoodie and shorts he had on before.
Damn, he's kept in shape.
There's a sudden warmth between her legs. Great! Just what she needs, going on stage both nervous
and
horny.
"Ready to do this?" Jeff asks.
Marigold nods.
He places a hand on her shoulder. Her pulse races. "You'll be great."
Jeff steps through the curtain onto the stage. The crowd applauds.
He sits on one of the stools in front of the microphone and puts on his headset. "Good evening, everyone."
He introduces himself and the store. "This is a special live episode of Author Encounter, the podcast where we encounter authors. Today's author is Marigold Martin. I wonder if you've heard of her."
Enthusiastic cheering. Marigold's hands tremble.
"This is something of a homecoming for Marigold," he says. "She spent most of her childhood and teen years here before moving away. How about that, a local celebrity?"
More cheering follows.
"It's not every day a new author catches fire like she has. Her debut novel,
Lucyanne Travers, Superspy,
has been praised for combining elements of the traditional spy thriller, comedy, and erotica. Let's welcome Marigold Martin to Author Encounter!"
Raucous cheering erupts.
And here I go!
Marigold strides out. The audience rises from their seats
en masse
.
How is this her life? Every appearance overflowing with fans.
Her fans.
She scans the audience. Looks like it's about three-quarters women.
Marigold takes a seat and puts on her headset. She takes another deep breath.
You got this, girl. You got this.
Jeff makes eye contact. Instant calmness.
"Full disclosure for the audience," Jeff says. "As my regular listeners know, I also grew up here. Then twenty years in Philly before moving back and opening Encounter Books here in sleepy Geil's Landing, New Jersey. Marigold and I worked together one summer at Carlo's Pizzeria Grill a block from here. This interview is sort of a reunion of old friends."
Old friends?
That's one way to describe it! Then again, he can't just announce to his entire audience how the two of them fucked that one time.
"Good evening, Marigold," Jeff says. "Thanks for coming on."
"Thank you for the opportunity."
"Your book certainly is a unique blend," he says. "I've heard it described as heralding the birth of a new genre."
Marigold shakes her head. "I don't know about
that.
My book's good, silly fun. I don't expect it to change the world."
"Fair enough. Yet this strange mix works, doesn't it? At least in your hands. Suspenseful and tense on one page, side-splitting funny on the next." He pauses. "Arousing on the third."
She shrugs. "What can I say? I'm a Renaissance woman."
"The real question everyone's asking is where do you get your inspiration from?"
Interviewers always ask that. "The truth?"
The audience cheers.
"I was on a business trip to London," she says. "He was ten years younger, like in the book."
Encouraging hoots come from the crowd.
"So the beginning was inspired by a real life experience?" Jeff asks.
"The first ten pages are basically non-fiction. The hotel bar, the Indian restaurant, the stroll along the Thames..."
