Beneath Me - Erotic Short Story for Women

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I want to step into somebody else's shoes. We polish off two glasses of cava "for good luck" as Tina puts it, but we both know that it's really Dutch courage. Our car's ready and waiting outside which is lucky cause we're both underdressed for the late October chill. There's a huge queue in front of the club but Tina tells the driver to pull up right by the entrance.

As we step out of the car, an overbuilt bouncer unclips the rope to let us straight through with a wink.

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That's a good start, despite the fact that he gives me the creeps. Tina orders us a couple of Jaeger bombs and flirts with a gorgeous, Brazilian barman.

I'm too distracted to concentrate on what they're saying. My stomach's doing acrobatics as I scan the floor looking for him. A sharp elbow jabs into my waist.


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He's even better looking than I remembered. All chiseled jaw and carefully trimmed five o'clock shadow. He's picked up a healthy tan from his latest trip to LA and his muscles are rippling out of his rolled up sleeves. You're quite a looker Marc Burgess, I think. We start writhing to the house music, not my cup of tea but then again, if I had it my way I'd be curled up on the sofa with an actual cup of tea watching X Factor right now, not in Mechu, a fancy club in Birmingham, in six inch heals that are already killing my feet.

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We make a good show of being the pissed party girls and dance with a few of the guys that have circled around us. Tina looks like she's really enjoying herself but I have no patience for it, I keep steeling looks at him. Before long I feel his eyes on me and yes, a flicker of victory does spark up inside. One of his friends makes a beeline towards us and Tina quickly has him entranced, skinny arms wrapped around his neck. I want to get this done with and approach him first but we've been over this, it's important that he comes to me.

You can tell that he's the sort of man who likes to get what he wants. Tina winds herself around his mate and I'm dancing on my own for a minute when I feel a hand on my waist. I don't even have to look round to know that it's him and I surprise myself by feeling a surge of electricity crackle from the spot where he's touching me lightly. I bat my lashes and pretend to hesitate. Dan, come and have a drink, bring your lovely friend.

He takes my hand and walks me up the three steps to his booth where an ice bucket and a bottle of Laurent Perrier await. Three girls are already plastered across a couple of men on the velvet sofas, but they instinctively make space for Marc. He pours out some glasses toasting, "The most beautiful women in the room. Because I'm not Kate Jackson tonight. Tonight, I'm Annabelle Hunt, and I'm here to put this man behind bars. What's he doing spending four nights a week in this place if he doesn't dance? So… what's Marc like?

The truth is that I'm more than happy to keep flirting; I'm incredibly attracted to him. It's not just that he's gorgeous, with his intense green eyes and his ripped body, but every time he touches me I feel a surge of desire. I shouldn't have accepted this job when I've not had sex for six months. I think back to the last time with my ex and it comes as no surprise that it wasn't particularly memorable. They've taken him in seven times and still can't pin anything on him.

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We wouldn't be here if he wasn't intelligent. I didn't expect him to be so interesting. A couple of girls walk in giggling and we both put our imaginary masks back on. Kate pulls his friend back to the dancefloor and I sit down next to Marc. He's talking to me intently about the house that he's designed; he's clearly passionate about architecture. It's going straight over my head because all I can think about is the feel of his leg resting against mine and his hand that keeps briefly stroking my arm, sending tingling sensations straight through me.

Seriously, I want to show you, let's go now," he says. It's what I was hoping for, it's the reason we're here, but it's not what I expected. I thought he'd be sleazy and I'd play the part of ditsy bimbo, but he's enigmatic, excited even. He'll never suspect. Listen, she looks like she's having a good time as she is. If you're not interested, don't worry, it was just an idea," he says. I pretend to hesitate before saying, "Let me go and talk to her, make sure she's alright on her own. The original plan was for us both to go back for one of his famous after-parties, fool around in the pool with him and his mates and seize the opportunity to plant some cameras, but he's not what I expected, and part of me suspects that being alone with Marc Burgess won't be such a chore after all.

The first of his stories to be independently published was "I Was a Teenage Grave Robber"; it was serialized over four issues three published and one unpublished of a fanzine , Comics Review , in That story was published the following year in a revised form as "In a Half-World of Terror" in another fanzine, Stories of Suspense , edited by Marv Wolfman. That year, his daughter Naomi Rachel was born. King met his future wife, fellow student Tabitha Spruce , at the University's Fogler Library after one of Professor Hatlen's workshops; they wed in After graduating from the University of Maine, King earned a certificate to teach high school but, unable to find a teaching post immediately, initially supplemented his laboring wage by selling short stories to men's magazines such as Cavalier.

Many of these early stories have been republished in the collection Night Shift. The short story The Raft was published in Adam , a men's magazine. However, payment arrived for the short story The Raft then entitled The Float , and King was able to pay the fine. He continued to contribute short stories to magazines and worked on ideas for novels. In , King's novel Carrie was accepted by publishing house Doubleday.

Carrie was King's fourth novel, [22] but it was the first to be published. It was written on a portable typewriter that belonged to his wife. The novel began as a short story intended for Cavalier magazine, but King tossed the first three pages of his work in the garbage can.

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It's brutal in places, affecting in others Carrie's relationship with her almost hysterically religious mother being a particularly damaged one , and gory in even more. When Carrie was chosen for publication, King's phone was out of service. Doubleday editor William Thompson — who would eventually become King's close friend — sent a telegram to King's house in late March or early April [27] which read: "Carrie Officially A Doubleday Book. King's Salem's Lot was published in In a issue of The Highway Patrolman magazine, he stated, "The story seems sort of down home to me.

I have a special cold spot in my heart for it! The family returned to western Maine in , where King completed his fourth novel, The Stand published In , the family, with the addition of Owen Phillip his third and last child , traveled briefly to England, returning to Maine that fall, where King began teaching creative writing at the University of Maine. In , King published Different Seasons , a collection of four novellas with a more serious dramatic bent than the horror fiction for which King is famous.

In , King wrote his first work for the comic book medium, [39] writing a few pages of the benefit X-Men comic book Heroes for Hope Starring the X-Men. The book, whose profits were donated to assist with famine relief in Africa, was written by a number of different authors in the comic book field, such as Chris Claremont , Stan Lee , and Alan Moore , as well as authors not primarily associated with that industry, such as Harlan Ellison. In the late s, King began what became a series of interconnected stories about a lone gunslinger, Roland, who pursues the "Man in Black" in an alternate-reality universe that is a cross between J.

Ferman , from to The Gunslinger was continued as an eight-book epic series called The Dark Tower , whose books King wrote and published infrequently over four decades. The idea behind this was to test whether he could replicate his success again and to allay his fears that his popularity was an accident.


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