I had just crossed the bridge over the Delaware River heading toward the Jersey Turnpike, still a good four hours away from my destination in upstate New York. Why was I doing this? My writer's block was gone and I had written two stories that I thought were pretty freaking good. I didn't need this guy to review them. So why was I going? I wanted desperately to see James again. I wanted to feel his arms around me. I wanted him inside me.
A month earlier when I was unable to write, my friend James had come to my house to help. He came with whips, canes, a large wooden whipping bench, and a promise that if I wrote something good he would give me the best sex I had ever had.
After a full day and a half of punishment that kept me screaming like a banshee, I started to write. I wrote to get away from the pain inflicted by whips and canes. I also learned that I was incredibly turned on by being forced into this submissive position.
So last week I had called him not just because I was anxious to keep up my writing; I was equally enthralled with the idea of being punished by and having sex with this good-looking man. I had been through a long self-imposed dry spell and, well to be completely honest, I needed a good noncommittal fuck.
While part of me was excited to be tied to the whipping post, my goal was to keep the punishments to a minimum and the lovemaking to a maximum on this trip.
The day before I left on my trip, I went to Kinko's to print out my favorite of the two stories I had written. He had asked for a hard copy and I was certainly going to bring him what he wanted.
I know people at my local Kinko's so I was quite concerned about printing my stories there. These are stories that I wouldn't admit to writing. They are some of my deepest most private fantasies. While I was at the store I hovered closely over the printer like a mother bird watching over her nest. I imagined someone finding my pages and yelling, "FILTHY SMUT!" then asking whose work this is. I imagined raising my hand with my eyes to the ground as some old right-wing man would start reading my words out loud as if they were part of a sermon on the evils of these writings.
When my GPS said I was three hours away I decided to call James. I used the excuse that I wanted to let him know when I would arrive but really I wanted to hear his ever so sexy voice.
"I'm glad you called," his hot voice blasted from my car speakers. "There has been a slight change of plans."
My heart dropped. Did he not want me? Was I being turned away? "What's up?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
"It's going to be three of us," he replied. "A student from the local college wants to start writing on the site. She has come to me for help. I figured I would kill two birds with one stone."
"And we are the birds?"
"Yeah, probably not the best choice of words. Look, she's a new writer and she's gonna' need a lot of help."
"Her name is Kelly. I'm sure you will like her," he said before signing off.
I wasn't happy about sharing James for the weekend but at least this Kelly was a newbie. Maybe she would get most of the punishments while I took most of the loving. I tried to put this girl out of my mind by turning up my music and pushing down the pedal of my Prius.
I got off the New York Thruway at his exit and followed my GPS until I found myself in his driveway. I immediately recognized his car from when he came to visit me. Parked next to it was a shiny new baby blue Ford Mustang. It had to belong to this Kelly girl. She, or more likely her parents, had plenty of money.
Suddenly I started to feel nauseous. I realized that Kelly was going to be my competition this weekend. I needed to take the upper hand right away and show this girl who's boss. I took a deep breath and knocked on James' door. It was quiet for a minute. I wondered if they were there. Just as I started looking around wondering what I should do I heard footsteps and the door opened.
Standing in front of me was a young girl who couldn't have been much more than 20. She was tall and had natural red hair that was so silky that it shined as it fell over her bright white tank top. She wore a too-short matching skirt that showed off her long shapely legs. I felt way underdressed in my jeans and shirt. I mean they were my good jeans and it was a top that showed off my figure a bit but it was nothing compared to Kelly's bright red and white look.
Her blue eyes pierced into me. She looked momentarily confused and then suddenly a light went on and she realized who I was.
"Oh, you're Carole," she squealed. "Jimmy told me that you were coming. I have read all your work online. I'm so excited to meet you."
Jimmy? He has always been James. Where did this bitch get off renaming him? I stood awkwardly in the doorway for a moment not knowing if I was to be invited in.
Finally, Kelly picked up on the uneasiness. "Oh! Come in. Let me take your bag. Jimmy is in the back getting ready for us. We are to wait here," she said guiding me into a little room off to the side of the foyer.
I handed her my little backpack that held nothing more than a change of clothes and a toothbrush. She put it away somewhere before joining me.
"So I hear you are a new writer," I said, trying to take control of the conversation.
"Oh, I barely call myself a writer. I haven't even put anything online. Jimmy is trying to help me get started."
"I am sure you will get better with James' help," I replied. I specifically called him James as if I was correcting her.
"He is such a good teacher," Kelly said dreamily. "I'm not a very good writer. I only wish I could be as good as you."
This cute little college girl was making me sick. She wasn't a writer and shouldn't even be here. I had her pegged as the rich little college type who was a piranha hunting down her man, and that man was my James.
"You know, not everyone is meant to be a writer. There are lots of other things you could do." I said hoping to dash her writing hopes and possibly get rid of her."
