Sweet Life 2 Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Acknowledgements

  Introduction

  Round One

  X-Rated Eden

  Smoking in the Boys’ Room

  Girls’ Night Out

  Special Occasion

  Lucky

  The Real, Real World

  A Recent Favorite

  Auto Erotica

  Domestic Service

  Mile High

  Tonight

  A Few Good Men

  Breakfast in Bed

  Cutting Class

  Bad Doggy

  Curious

  Aftercare

  Good for the Goose

  Key Party

  Doing Eighty

  Wine with Dinner

  Your Secret and Mine

  A Very Naughty Girl

  Paying Customer

  About the Authors

  About the Editor

  Copyright Page

  Acknowledgements

  Like real life, this book is a celebration of love, hot sex, and lasting connections. And like life, none of these things—including this book—would be possible without the love and support of those near me. This book in particular saw me through an amazing trial of just plain weird luck, and through it all the people around me never wavered in their support, never tired of surprising me with warmth and generosity, and really, really helped me a lot. Simple thank-yous seem trite.

  Felice Newman, the laughter, the lunches, the keen eye, and the ability to at once solve problems and make me better at what I do: Working with you is like getting a great big basket full of sweet surprises. Our professional relationship is absolutely inspiring. Thank you. Don Weise: Your excitement and enthusiasm are boundless, almost as much as your sharp wit. Thanks for letting me bug you when my (insert electronic device here) crashes, and telling me when and where, who, and how to get there. Frédérique Delacoste: Every time we meet you make me laugh, and I can always count on sharing at least one conspiratorial smile with you. Thank you for your mirth, and support.

  If life is like sex, friends are the lube. Thomas Roche, this chapter of my life has you as a major character: a source of unending support, assistance, deeply dark humor, and guidance through murky literary seas. It’s a good thing we’re both insomniacs. My admiration for you is gigantic; thank you for helping me when I really needed it. Annalisa, Annalisa, Annalisa—four syllables that mean “true friend.” Your skill and ability astound me, and I am thankful that you are in my life—thank you, and drinks are on me. Constance, thank you for reminding me just by being my friend how important it is to stop working and enjoy myself, and also for letting me do my laundry at your house when my stress meter went into the red zone.

  My family in Survival Research Laboratories is the most beautiful, complicated, crazy, scary, tight-knit, deeply caring, and loving type of family I could ever wish for. Michael and Melanie: Thank you for giving me so much support, being such wonderful friends, and loaning me a vehicle when mine was nearly totaled. During the writing of this book, so many SRL members fed me, made me laugh until body parts ached, and on some occasions even made sure I wore enough sunscreen. I love you, and thank you, my friends. But no thanks to my family in SRL would be complete without thanking Mark for being sweet, generous beyond measure, fiercely supportive when I most needed it, teasing me mercilessly when I also needed it, and being one of the funniest people I know. Plus, you kept me coffeed-up and let me crash on your couch when I worked too late (on manuscripts and machines) to go home. Thank you, Mark. Again, on the SRL note, but far more personal: Thank you, Todd, my dear friend, ex-husband, and confidante. What we have done with our relationship is amazing; we have had a deep love relationship, and when it changed we allowed it to grow into a fantastic friendship. Your support, advice, and help when I needed it are things beyond value—thank you, as always.

  This book saw me through an auto smash, a motorcycle drop, a friend’s suicide, theft, loss of property, and just about everything else that could’ve gone awry (and often did). That’s why these acknowledgments are so damn long. But there was one person who saw me through the entire roller-coaster ride and was at my side every time I needed him, and even when I thought I didn’t—but really did. I not only made it with your help and support, Courtney, but I have also had the time of my life. Thank you for the driving, grinding, kissing, baritoning, massaging, “research,” squeezing, giggling, pranksterism, and spanking. Thank you for looking for my keys when I lost them. And thank you for finding the key to my heart, when I thought that was lost, too. Uz jsme doma.

  Introduction: Uz Jsme Doma

  As the spasms of orgasm gently subsided, my lover and I nestled into a comfortable sideways position, arms entwined, the lengths of our sweaty bodies touching beneath the sheets. We were winded, sticky, and smiling. He looked into my eyes and asked, “What are you thinking?”

  “I’m thinking how good I feel,” I answered. “How nice it is to be as close as two people can be. Not just physically, but to have someone to open up to completely, to share intimacy that comes from deep inside, intimacy that is so powerful and overwhelming that sometimes it feels as if it’s a death-defying act just to be having sex. It seems like everyone is afraid to really open up to each other, afraid of rejection or acceptance, or both, as if the moment you show them what’s inside, you’ll be thrust into a life-or-death situation.

  “Suppose you were on an airplane, going on vacation with your lover to some long-sought-after tropical destination. There’s a commotion in the row of seats behind you; you turn around just in time to see some crazy guy with a knife lunge for the flight attendant. The attendant escapes down the aisle, but that puts your lover right between the lunatic and the attendant. Your lover is out of her seat, trying to get away, so the madman goes after her instead. You have to think quickly if you want to save her, and saving her would mean putting yourself in danger; you might get stabbed, or worse. Do you risk it? They would in the movies.

  “Heroism like that is a lot to expect in real life. As little kids we learn to try and blend in, not to make waves, especially when someone might be judging you. Especially when the person who might be passing judgment is someone you really want to impress, or someone whose opinion of you is important to you. ‘Don’t do anything different.’ ‘Hold still and don’t make any sudden movements or the T-rex will get you.’ It’s as if we’re trained from birth to be helplessly stuck doing things the way some imaginary ‘others’ think we should be doing them. Asking for what we want in bed is even scarier. So in what we perceive to be a no-win situation, it’s easier to just resign yourself to suffering. Fear holds us back from asking for what we want, like a steel cage.

  “We have these fantasies all the time about saving our lovers, about being the ultimate hero in their lives. She falls down a cliff, broken and bleeding, and you rescue her. He gets into an auto accident, and you pull him out of the car just before it blows up. This type of fantasy about our lovers has become a modern archetype of sorts, a fantasy of gaining total acceptance and love in the instant of one act that shows them who you really are, and they love you completely. David Lynch uses the hero-lover fantasy theme a lot in his movies, and it was in the film Heavy, too. But where do you go from there? What if the fantasy is true and they really do love you completely—can you still be brave enough to ask for what you really want, desire, or need in bed? And how do you stay the hero in love?

  “I was just thinking about the nature of love in general, I suppose. I mean, I’m best friends with my ex-husband and I see him every day, spend quality time having drinks or going shopping with his great new girlfriend, and every single day it blows my mind how love can change. It has to change, in order to survive,
just like us. I think too many people cling to the notion that love is this static thing that is always the same frequency, and will always be the shape, flavor, and size you thought it was last week, or even last year, and when they see that it’s changed they think something’s wrong. That ‘different’ means ‘less.’ When the truth is that love between two people is like a plant you grow together, and though you can’t always predict how tall or into what shape it’s going to grow, you can cultivate a direction together, and fertilize the plant with new ideas.

  “You’re giggling—I know it sounds cheesy. But everyone’s afraid of love changing because it might mean the end, on one level or another. People are scared that nothing lasts forever, that there are no happy endings for love relationships. That’s what the fear is: that you’ll get fed up, that I’ll get fed up, that someone will die, or find someone else, or move on, and that it won’t be mutual. That it will hurt. It’s happened to all of us, everyone, and no amount of drinking, crying, smoking, eating, TV watching, or Prozac will make it hurt any less, no matter who left whom. Gone, like a pack of matches. True intimacy in a long-term relationship is really scary because a change in direction, such as asking to try something new sexually, could mean heroic fantasy-fulfillment, or death.

  “The funny thing is, I can’t help but think of couples who are worried about making love last, like someone who is looking around for their sunglasses when the glasses are sitting on top of their head. There’s a Czech saying, ‘Uz jsme doma,’ which you use when you’re looking for something and it was with you the whole time, literally translated as ‘We’re already home.’ Great, hot, intense, and satisfying long-term relationships occur between couples who know they’re ‘already home,’ and are unafraid to court the dangers of death-defying sexual intimacy. Fantasy is the cornerstone of human sexuality, and nothing is more intimate or arousing than confessing a fantasy—or making one come true.

  “I’m practically swimming in sexual fantasies right now, and the ways couples can make them come true. Putting together Sweet Life 2 has pushed me further into couples’ fantasy-realms, giving me no small amount of inspiration. Some of the stories are sweet and succulent as a ripe peach, such as Emilie Paris’s ’Breakfast in Bed,’ where a woman’s handsome musician boyfriend literally makes a delicious confection out of his girlfriend. In ‘Auto Erotica’ by Alison Tyler, an unrestrained couple creates an outrageous sexual game that verges on exhibitionism, with the aid of a few traffic lights. ‘Good for the Goose’ by Jesse Nelson is what happens when boyfriends get caught with the lipstick, and must learn what it’s like to reverse roles. And ‘The Real, Real World’ by Alexandra Michaels shows us a couple whose reality TV show will never be on cable—though we can make one of our own, just like theirs, if we want.

  “Some of the stories are intensely dirty, and flirt with danger. ‘Round One’ by Dante Davidson puts a man in a precarious situation at the hands of his dominant girlfriend, who wants to explore her newly discovered penchant for dressing—and fucking—like a man. Elle McCaul’s ‘Lucky’ takes a highly taboo fantasy into a public parking lot, and we get to see a naughty girl’s hide get tanned—that’s what happens when you make Daddy mad. ’Mile High’ by Simon Torrio shows us how to join the club of the very same name—with a twist.

  “Many of these fantasies are tense, explicit explorations of sex pushed to the limits. ‘Special Occasion’ by Felix D’Angelo shows us a woman who will give her husband anything he wants—including sex with a stranger. And ‘Bad Doggy’ by Julia Moore takes the phrase ‘be your dog’ literally, as a woman endures an unusual obedience school at the hands of her loving master.

  “I can tell you’re getting excited—I am too. There’s more: voyeurism, spanking, threesomes of every combination, and some activities I was surprised to learn about. And I want to try them all.”

  He sighed. I could feel his arms tighten around me.

  “Violet, you are awfully long-winded. And I love you for it.”

  And he kissed me goodnight.

  Violet Blue

  San Francisco, California

  January 2003

  Round One

  DANTE DAVIDSON

  Toni and I met at the mall during our lunch hour. She claimed that she wanted my opinion on an expensive new business suit she was planning to buy. “Deep gray,” she told me, “with micro-thin white pin-stripes. It’ll look so fucking hot with a pair of spectator heels.” Although extremely flattered by her request, I couldn’t fully fathom the concept. Toni has impeccable taste. She rarely asks my opinion about anything she puts on her body. In fact, I have very little say in the matter unless it’s my fingers, mouth, or cock, against her naked skin.

  I should have known. Usually I’m not this slow.

  We had planned to meet at a location by the escalator. I was early, and I watched as she cut through the crowd of shoppers. Toni is always noticeable. She wears her short red hair slicked away from her high forehead, revealing the mastery of her sharp features: lovely wide-set green eyes, a haughty jaw line, perfect nose. She’s tall, especially in her signature skyscraper pumps, and she favors man-style suits. Not that she wants to hide her curves—no, not at all. An authoritative goddess: That’s Toni’s fashion statement. Even in a suit, she’s all woman.

  As I gazed at her approaching figure, I felt my cock stir to life. Toni can make me hard with a look. Now, she wasn’t even glancing in my direction, but I found that radiating power of her sexual energy truly palpable.

  “Ready?” she asked, when she reached my side.

  I nodded, and I had the distinct feeling that I was signing up for more than a viewing of a new item of clothes—but I still couldn’t figure out Toni’s plan.

  With a smile, she led me, like a kid tugging a puppy on a leash, to the women’s department of an exclusive high-end store. The salesclerk quickly located the suit for us and set it up in one of the fancy private dressing rooms. Because we were in an area reserved for those special sort of people who spend oodles of money on clothes, we were allowed to go in together. No questions asked.

  “Let me know if you need any assistance—” the iced-blonde saleslady crooned to us. I thought I could actually see the dollar signs of her impending commission in her light blue eyes.

  “Oh, we will,” Toni promised, ushering me in with her. This is where my sensors should have started ringing. But for some reason, I was still lost in the concept that Toni actually wanted me to advise her on an article of clothing. I’d even gotten a look at the price tag of the suit. The figure was enough to make anyone want a second opinion.

  Sitting on the edge of the padded peach-colored bench, I waited for her to get undressed. I had turned to glance at my own reflection in the mirror when I realized that Toni was standing directly behind me with her suit still on, waiting for me to pay attention to her. Confused, I turned around, and as soon as I did, she slid her hands behind my head, fingers twining in my dark curly hair, and brought my mouth forward, to the crotch of her slacks.

  Oh, I thought, as I instantly obeyed her silent demand. Ohhh, I thought, that mental moan stretching out as my mouth opened and I began to lick along the length of her plastic prick, still concealed within the rich fabric of her suit slacks. Suddenly, I understood completely. Toni was acting on one of my darkest fantasies, a concept I had described to her late one night, when we were at the private mental place where couples can truly confess. I’d wanted her to fuck me. That’s all I really said at first. Just fuck me.

  “Tell me more,” Toni had urged, fingers stroking along my strong chest as she looked up into my face.

  “You know,” I’d said, bashful, “you take charge.”

  A glimmer of understanding had shone in her green eyes, and then she’d snuggled against me under the sheets, her hand moving down from my chest, working lower as she’d insisted I continue the fantasy. As she’d wrapped her fist around my cock, I had done what she requested: I’d told her every single thing I wanted.
r />   Now, she was making that fantasy come true. And because she’d understood my desires, Toni wouldn’t let me do the work myself. She rubbed my face firmly against the split between her legs, letting me know the power of her passion. I’ve never sucked cock before, but I know what I like when Toni goes down on me, and I transferred that knowledge to how I pleased her. Using the whole of my mouth, I suckled her through the suit pants. I could tell that beneath the slacks she had on only the harness and cock, and I couldn’t wait to see what this toy looked like. But when I brought my hands up to her fly, she shook her head, and said, “No. You wait. Wait until you really want it—”

  “I really want it,” I assured her.

  “No,” she said again, and she started to fuck her cock against my face. I sighed and let her, loving the feeling of that ripe toy caressing my cheeks, brushing against my parted lips. My own cock was doing its best impression of a steel pole in my pants. I wanted release and relief.

  “Take off your clothes,” Toni said, her voice harsh. “I want to see just how much you want me.”

  Quickly, I stripped without a word. Heart pounding, I stood and undid the fly of my slacks. I kicked off my shoes and stepped free from my pants and boxers, aware of exactly how hard my cock was. I’d just noticed how the trio of mirrors worked, and I turned to see my body reflected to infinity: the hard muscles of my thighs, the strong plane of my back, ridged stomach, unbelievably hard cock. Toni trailed her hand along my rod, and I realized that she wasn’t wearing nail polish today, that her nails were cut short and buffed to a clear glassy shine. She had on a heavy, man’s-style watch I’d never seen on her before. When I looked into her face, I saw that she wasn’t wearing makeup, or jewelry. And was that a man’s spicy cologne I smelled?

  Suddenly, I started to really get it. Toni had transformed for me. That was fair, wasn’t it? Because I was undergoing a transformation of my own, from dominant to submissive in sixty seconds or less. From tough guy to neophyte.