Five Minute Fantasies 2 Read online

  FIVE MINUTE FANTASIES

  VOLUME TWO

  A collection of twenty erotic stories

  Published by Accent Press Ltd – 2013

  ISBN 9781909520523

  Copyright © Xcite Books 2007

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, electrostatic, magnetic tape, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the written permission of the publishers: Xcite Books, Suite 11769, 2nd Floor, 145-157 St John Street, London EC1V 4PY

  The stories contained within this book are works of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the authors’ imaginations and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental

  Contents

  Lucy And The Way That It Is Ralph Greco Jr

  A Little Bit Of Luxury Kitti Bernetti

  Dancing For Women Stephen Albrow

  Plain Jane J. Carron

  Half Measures Jeremy Edwards

  In The Liquor Store Gwen Masters

  Call Girl Landon Dixon

  A Rank Outsider Phoebe Grafton

  A Sculptor’s Touch Roger Frank Selby

  Birthday Treat Alex de Kok

  Backstory Frances Jones

  Brown Nosing Richard Terry

  Farmer’s Daughter Landon Dixon

  First Time For Everything Mary Borsellino

  High Heels And Monster Bikes Kitti Bernetti

  Neighbourhood Watch Stephen Albrow

  Cherry Bottom Shanna Germain

  Afterdeath Susan Placido

  Titus Loves Flowers Jim Baker

  Working Conditions Elizabeth Coldwell

  Lucy And The Way That It Is

  by Ralph Greco Jr

  Part 1 – The Red-Haired Lady Emerges From A Long Sleep

  Lucy had the kind of ass you could sink your teeth into and forget all your problems…which is exactly what I was being offered when the lady sashayed across my worn brown carpet and begged me to take her case. She smiled in that crooked way she had, reminding me as it always did of an eight ball teetering at a side pocket: all taunting potential. The fact that we hadn’t seen each other in five years and this lady was now married (and not to me) didn’t stop the broad from bending across the pitted top of my oak desk, lifting her tight dress and exposing snapping-tight garters, stockings and perfect silk white panties.

  ‘Consider this a small advance,’ she said, looking to her side, the smile still playing across her pale features. Lucy’s husband made good money and she could afford high-class unmentionables so I figured the least I could do was take a moment to admire them. Last time I saw something that round and bright I was standing on the Catalina coastline at sunset.

  As the dull grey L.A. morning slashed through my blinds like a rummy sliding off a bar stool, I knelt to eat the lady’s fine alabaster ass.

  ‘Ben…Ben. There’s so much…Ben…’ Lucy tried as I pressed my face up into that lovely scented smell, nuzzling into the crack of her ass while moving the side of soft panty enough so I could get my stubble chin deep between my ex’s vertical smile.

  Much as I remembered them, Lucy’s alabaster fleshy cheeks were still oh-so-perfectly curved. There may have been a bit more to them since I had last been south of this particular lady’s border, but my ex still sported one of the best derrières I had ever seen…or tasted. I quickly found Lucy’s puckered pink starfish and stuck my tongue in to say hello.

  From her reaction I’d say Lucy was happy to be paying in advance.

  Part 2 – Two Good Friends Discuss Old Habits

  The way things happened in this town, or more precisely my life, why would I be surprised that my ex looked me up, and let me ‘look her up’ all so I could find out if the man she had left me for five years ago was cheating on her?

  Running into Musso and Frank’s for my usual lunch libation I called Rudy over to join me in my reserved red plush booth; like any of a number of sandwich and steak runners in this eternally hungry town, Rudy could be trusted. The two of us first came to the land of lemon groves and lights in ’39. The lanky guy with the runny right eye and I had gone our separate paths career-wise but nothing could hinder our friendship. As Rudy had moved up to maitre d’ in the past three years, I made my bucks tracking down cheating husbands, spying on business partners and finding the hophead starlet or two. Rudy knew Lucy well, had been around to see first-hand how twisted our history had been written and was more then surprised the dame was back in my life to write another chapter.

  As he slid in I regaled him with as much as I could given client-private dick privilege.

  ‘So whatever this job is, you gonna take it?’ he asked, sipping his rock and rye as I sat there next to him doing the same.

  ‘Yeah, got to, she needs my help,’ I agreed, sipping hard.

  Musso and Frank’s is about as dark as I keep my office. I hoped to get out to my Packard with my hat pulled low enough so I might never have to see the grey sunshine of this day.

  ‘Old habits die ha…’ Rudy began to offer, but was cut short by a loud conversation at the bar.

  We both looked up and recognized the arguing couple; he: our congressman embroiled in what was brewing to be a very messy parting of opinion with a she who could be young enough to be the man’s daughter…but certainly wasn’t. You don’t grow into Rudy’s position without knowing when to put a quick stop to an escalating fury, even in the light lunchtime crowd such as M&F’s support.

  Of course Rudy downed his drink before leaving the table.

  I didn’t regard Lucy as a habit, but I guess in a way she was. I had long ago forgiven the leggy redhead for leaving me; she had simply weighed her options and rationalized that her new man (the very guy she now suspected of cheating on her) could provide her with a life her current man (me) could never hope to achieve. Some place deep down in my too-tight suit, under that cigarette case she had given me our second year together, my heart flipped a few extra beats knowing the lady was back in my life. And I knew damn well that gettin’ back into bed (or across a desk) with Lucy would do us both more harm than good, but what could I do? There hadn’t been another dame even come close to the redhead these past years and, while it might sound romantic to be married to your work, it had left me a little too friendly with the sauce.

  But, habit, I wasn’t sure was the right word. More like ache, need, slap-across-your-face rushing fever when we were in each other’s presence; that was what Lucy and I had had and it seemed, if the events of the morning were any indication, still had to some degree. Of course the lady could be trying some revenge while she hired yours truly to get on the hunt, but I never asked those big questions of my clients. The way I see it motivations, rhythms and reasons are for the people who hire me. I just took the pictures, stuck on the tail and collected my fee.

  I gulped my drink and avoided the muted sunshine coming up Hollywood as I left Musso and Frank’s without the usual house-specialty potpie warming my belly. I determined straight off to give ol’ Mr B.J. Ralstone an honest-to-goodness, old-fashioned tail; that’s if I could find him in the crawl that was Los Angeles afternoon traffic. I had my camera, my notebook and I had Mr R’s schedule (as best Lucy knew it) so I was ready to stay on the man’s hide like a Chinaman doing his books.

  I made one of those wide U-turns my car executes so well and the earth spun off its axis as I turned the car around.

  Part 3 – The Lady On Her Own Turf

  I have been to most places in L.A., but I had to admit my jalopy had never spit and sputtered its way up this particular twisty canyon road. Early the next morning, after not finding Mr R at any of the spots Lucy recommended h
e’d be, I got a call from the missus to meet her at her home; she reckoned she had more facts for me. Shower, shave and dress and I was steering my wheezing car up this tight road to a hillside encampment called, for reasons not apparent until I learned the lineage of the house, ‘Amton Faire’.

  As the butler (Sydney was his name) walked me under the impossibly high wooden ceiling of the front hallway, he informed me that this particular house had been built by silent film studio executive Russ Amton, back in ’21. I have to say I was impressed as the man led me through the kitchen, complete with a smiling brown-skinned cook and then to the back porch with lime green shades, wood moulding and wicker chairs.

  I knew Lucy had done well for herself, but I never thought her ‘trading-up’ had taken her this far. The house was big, even by Hollywood standards. What was it Lucy had said her husband did?

  ‘A happy marriage has nothing to do with trappings, Ben,’ the lady said, as if reading my mind, which in my case is akin to breezing through the funny papers.

  Lucy had come through the door I had just walked through. She closed it behind her…then locked it.

  ‘Hello,’ I said, trying my best to look anywhere else except at the vision standing before me.

  Where yesterday it had been all tight business dress, combed-up hair and neat heels, Lucy joined me as I stood to greet her in nothing more then a long silk bathrobe. She was barefoot, her red hair cascading loose to her shoulders.

  ‘Thanks for coming at such short notice.’

  ‘I am your employee,’ I quipped.

  A quick kiss on the cheek and a smile and the lady of the house walked around to the other side of the low glass table.

  ‘Tea?’ she asked, already well into pouring me a glass.

  ‘It is quite the house though,’ I said, tipping my glass to clink with hers as we settled in. Sitting back, the slightly resistant rocker let me go, and I winced at the ten extra pounds I had given myself for an early Christmas present. I was still under one-eighty and Lucy hadn’t mentioned anything, so I figured I looked OK.

  ‘Anything yet?’ she asked, not hiding the fact that she was bare underneath the robe. As she sat back she let the front folds open enough to reveal an alabaster coastline view of her creamy white thighs almost all the way up to her forbidden red sea.

  ‘Your husband was nowhere you told me he’d be,’ I offered through another sip.

  ‘He hardly ever is,’ Lucy said and spread her legs as she sipped her tea through a smile. I spread mine and opened my jacket even wider.

  In this pretty quiet porch in this high-class hilly neighbourhood, I knew all manner of encounters happened, as twisty and dangerous as the curvy canyon roads leading up here. Dupes like me – who didn’t belong here, unable to afford a pass even for an afternoon’s recreation – we got it the worse. I had seen plenty of men and women spend their youth being the attachment on some studio exec’s arm or some Hollywood grand dame’s ‘gardener’, only to get thrown away or weeded under, without so much as a monogrammed toothbrush for the trip down. And though I was a guy who had a few angles covered, and liked what was being offered (if indeed it was being offered) I would damn well step lightly in Lucy’s neighbourhood.

  ‘Where we goin’ with this, Lucy?’ I asked. Straight ahead like a swimmin’ shark, that’s my motto. ‘You know this can’t lead to anything good.’

  ‘Good’s got nothing to do with where I want to go,’ the lady quipped as I tried not to look at her upper milky thighs winking hello. I caught just a whisper of Lucy’s fiery red bush as she wiggled her rump hard into her chair.

  I reached down, eased down my fly and opened my pants.

  ‘My marriage doesn’t mean much more to me these days than the money I will see when we can prove he’s seeing somebody else,’ she explained, running her free hand down the front of the robe to open it all the way. Her little red nipples were rock hard arrowhead points on her tiny round breasts, her tuft of hair glistening as she spread even more.

  ‘That’s true love for you,’ I quipped, easing my cock up over and free.

  If Sydney walked in what would he think of this very peculiar afternoon tea?

  ‘I didn’t really care about his money at first…’ she started to explain, reaching to finally place her ice-tea down on the table between us. ‘…well maybe I did a bit more than I wanted to admit.’

  ‘Well shit, Lucy…’ I said, pulling out to cup my balls. ‘…my ego never allowed me any other possibility as to why you left.’

  ‘It seems such a long time ago, Ben,’ the lady sighed, snaking both hands down and in between her legs. ‘We all do what we can.’

  ‘We do at that,’ I said, taking myself in hand as she inserted a finger.

  ‘You should have come to me sooner,’ I added, starting to pump hard into my fist.

  ‘I am a married woman,’ Lucy squealed, as if that admission made her even more determined. One hand pressed to her downy belly, the other in her lap, the lady definitely was inserting now.

  She sighed. ‘I needed a good reason, although I’ve wanted to see you for so many, many years.’

  With this the lady suddenly sat forward, spearing herself. She bit her ample lower lip and began to shake. I did the same.

  ‘Lucy,’ I growled as I fucked my fist and the lady across from me ground her hips hard against the chair…and her hand. ‘Lucy.’

  ‘Yesss,’ she said, looking straight across at me, her beady blue eyes burrowing into mine.

  ‘Ben!’ my ex screamed, as she lifted herself from the chair then sat back down with a shudder and a quick orgasm.

  ‘Lucy,’ I sighed, still stroking as a minute later the woman smiled, poured herself down and out of her chair.

  ‘Lucy,’ I whispered as the mistress of the house got on her knees, scooted across the cool porch tiles and put my cock between her lips.

  I lasted a boys scout’s ten seconds before I lost myself in Lucy’s generous mouth.

  Part 4 – The Tail And The Talk

  Mutual masturbation, eating ass, coming down Lucy’s throat; I must say this private eye stuff was proving pretty damn interesting! But I knew if I really wanted to ‘earn’ what Lucy was ‘paying’ I’d have to get to work finding her husband in a compromising position. Thing was, even as I limped like a soaked lime from the averted eyes of Lucy’s household staff, I really had no idea if Mr B.J. Ralstone would be anywhere Lucy said he was. A cheating husband doesn’t make himself visible and though it was my job to catch the guy, Lucy had reiterated, as I cleaned and zipped up, that her husband’s schedule was hazy at best.

  But down I went into the sunshine, through the traffic and to where the lady said she ‘thought’ I might find her husband on a Tuesday afternoon in springtime L.A.

  I made what I call the full circle. All the way down Sunset, cruised by where she said he might be at the beach, even parked and took a walk under Tony’s awning, but Lucy’s husband hadn’t taken a late lunch. Then it was down the interstate for a while and then the loop back into the city proper. What I was hoping for was to catch the guy on his way to or away from his mistress; I knew he’d never be so stupid as to jet around town with a floozy in the front seat!

  Lucy had the Bel Air listed as well so I took a spin there, paid Frank the valet a quick fin to keep my car close and decided on the bar for a little look-see.

  It was the usual early afternoon array: wannabes, has- beens and will-never-get-close-to-ever-bes. You stay here long enough, these faces all wash past your eye. I mean you notice the Lana Turner look-alikes, some even looking more like ol’ Lana then the lady herself, and occasionally I’d get a look from one of those guys I knew from the studio who had used me for whatever so far back I’d be hard pressed to swear to it in court. But mostly I made my way, put my hat on the end of the bar, and saw a bartender I knew only by face.

  ‘The problem is, I really do love her,’ I heard a low voice say as I turned to face Mr B.J. Ralstone!

  So much for wo
ndering if he was here.

  ‘Am I being followed?’ I asked.

  ‘I know who you are.’

  ‘OK,’ I said

  ‘To save you and me both a lot of time, I’ll say it again, I do love her,’ he said leaning in so close I could smell his cologne.

  The guy was my height, but he had ten years on me at least. Lean, dark eyes, high cheekbones, I could see why any woman would turn her head to look at Mr Ralstone. Given the guy’s wealth (what the hell did he do? I still didn’t know) and his obvious guts I could see this guy was the whole package.

  ‘Well I guess that makes two of us.’

  ‘Oh I didn’t mean, Lucy, I mean Ann,’ Ralstone replied leaning back then to sip the drink he had on the bar.

  ‘Ann?’

  ‘Lucy is a great gal, really. But it’s been over between us for years. I am only sorry to say I had to push you two to this point.’

  ‘I’m not sure I foll…’

  ‘…you know Lucy,’ he continued. ‘She needs to feel she is doing things for the right reasons. She’s always loved you Ben…I can call you Ben ?’

  I nodded without falling off the stool and he continued.

  ‘She married me more or less for my money. I married her for her looks and the fact that she was rather passionate in bed.’ Here he stopped, sipped again and actually winked at me!

  ‘But all that fades in time, you know that. Ann, well Ann and I are everything Lucy and I will never be.’

  ‘So why am I am tailing you, sounds like you want the marriage over too.’

  ‘I needed to get Lucy to come to you for a reason other than that she loves you.’

  Part 5 – The Lady And The End

  I wanted to meet Lucy where this all started: my office. On my desk I had papers from her husband, drawn up months ago, papers that only needed Lucy’s signature.

  Ralstone was a straight shooter. He had set up a trust fund for Lucy, she’d have nothing to worry about for the rest of her days and she could have her pick of houses, either Amton Faire or a quiet and spacious little bungalow at the beach. (Her husband had assured me that Lucy, being ever practical, would want the beach property as she had always complained the house was too big for her.)