Chapter 1
Dottie
It’s been exactly six months and nine days since my husband last touched me. Yes, I’ve been counting. I love Jimmy, he’s my moon and my stars, but I need him to desire me as he once did. I’ve tried everything you can imagine to get him to come back to me—to us. Sexy lingerie, role playing, cooking his favorite meal, videos, even tried slipping him the pill. Nothing works. We’ve lost that something, our spark.
Jimmy swears there’s no one else. I’ve even had him tested for low testosterone. Nada. Zilch. Just last night, when he came to bed, I curled my fingers around the waistband of his shorts and exposed him. I ran my tongue down his shaft, I stroked him, teased him, and rubbed my breasts against him, not even a half-salute.
Sure, I’m getting older. But for fuck sake, I am only forty, and I look damn good. I go to the gym three days a week. My tits don’t look a day over twenty. We never had kids. Jimmy and me like to travel too much. But that has been lacking too. Why should I go to all these conventions with him when he won’t even kiss me? I’m at my wit’s end, on the verge of questioning his sexuality. Maybe he no longer desires a woman’s touch. I almost hired him a hooker just to see if it was me or all women. Maybe I should hire him a man. Scratch that. Maybe I should hire one for myself.
I’ve got an itch that my toys just can’t scratch. I need to feel a real man between my legs. My pussy is pulsing with need. I stand by the window, looking at the city surrounding me, wishing and hoping for a man to touch me. I’m so keyed up and horny, just about any man would do at this point.
I spy my neighbor from 5E, OZ, the firefighter. Now there is a man who sets my panties ablaze with need. I feel like a pervert ogling the twenty-four-year-old but that man is gorgeous. Tall with bulging muscles. He could be on the cover of a magazine with them sexy dimples and those intense baby blues. Sometimes I bump into him at the gym. I see him every other day. I usually hear him coming in when I finish cooking dinner. My husband prefers for dinner to be ready and plated when he comes in every night. But this morning he flew out to Tennessee for a convention. My husband is an insurance broker.
I usually travel with him, but I need some time to myself after last night’s rejection. I continue to stare at my neighbor’s hard body as he crosses the street to our building. I imagine what it would be like to scratch my nails down his back as he pounds into me. His well-toned muscles flexing beneath my heated touch.
My thighs squeeze together with anticipation. With OZ on my mind, I pad across the apartment to my bedroom. Getting back in bed to quench my thirst for that tall drink of water my inner sex kitten craves. My sex life is the Sahara and OZ can be my oasis. He’s such a sweetheart. He carried my groceries in last week. I picture his lickable dimpled smile and my nipples harden. I think about that flirtatious tongue of his caressing my points, sucking, and nibbling my pebbled flesh, as I yank on his dirty blond hair.
He always makes a point to flirt with women. That man has a wicked mouth on him. And the revolving door to his bedroom hasn’t gone unnoticed by the rest of us that live on this floor. He entertains lady friends more often than not. I thought he might be in a relationship with the girl he lives with, since Candi moved in first. However, they seem more like roommates on the surface anyway.
Pushing my pajama shorts down I ease my soaked panties off, and reach into the top drawer of my nightstand for my current lover, my rabbit. Poised on my bed with my knees spread, I’m ready for a little action.
Damn it!
My batteries are dead.
I shove my toy back into hiding and sigh.
I need a man.
OZ is a man.
I am struck with a deliciously wicked idea.
Chapter 2
OZ
It’s quitting time after a long day and no action. Not that no incidents are a bad thing. I’m glad there hasn’t been any disasters or major accidents today. I didn’t even fuck anything up, which is saying something. But it’s important that I get shit right the first time, now that I’m off probation. I’m like a damn black cloud, the worst calls seem to come in during my shift. After being on for twenty-four hours I’m ready to get home for some alone time. Candi, my roomie is working tonight, so that means I get the place to myself. Living with a chick is cool. After, I broke things off with Suzy, I needed a place to crash, and Candi offered me the extra room in her place.
Most people would think I’ve fucked Candi, but that chick is cool and she sees through my shit. She probably knows me better than most. We’re best buds, which is something I never thought I’d hear myself say about a hot girl, with sexy ass tattoos to boot. She even took me to get my first ink.
I love my firehouse family, but spending so much time together can test your tolerance of one another. I tend to burn more bridges than I cross. I just like to give them all shit. Normally, I’d be heading out with one of the boys for a drink and a night of chasing skirts. I stepped on a few toes with my crude taunting of Kate earlier. I can’t help it. I love seeing her cheeks flaming like an inferno, it’s sexy. I know I don’t stand a chance with her, and I guess that’s half of the appeal. All the guys think of her like a sister, except me. I’d fuck her. Won’t happen though. I do have some boundaries. I don’t shit where I eat, but I’d never tell her that I respect her. I love the chase too damn much. I love fucking with her.
When McKitty told me I had gone too far, I knew it was time to pack it in and give everyone some space.
I don’t live that far from the station so I walk to work. Being a rookie on the block, I don’t net a lot of hours, and I’m going to have to search for something to fill the gap in my wallet. Ash said he could put in a word for me with the service he works for part time—an escort service. I just don’t know if that’s for me.
I’ve barely stepped off the elevator when I receive an urgent call from my neighbor down the hall, in 1E. When I moved in Candi threw me a small party and all of the neighbors brought a dish. I ended up getting drunk and giving them all my number in case of an emergency. I made a total ass of myself, like I am some sort of Superman.
“Lo,” I answer, digging my keys from my pockets.
“OZ, it’s Dottie, in 1E. I’ve had a bit of an accident and set my kitchen on fire!”
Fuck! I end the call without a word and dash down the hall. I bum rush the red door nearly splintering it from the
hinges. Running past the tan leather couch to the small kitchen to find there’s no smoke, not even a hint of a fire. Scratching my head, I’m sure I’ve busted down the wrong door.
Confused, I turn to leave when my neighbor appears in the bedroom doorway. Dressed in skimpy black panties and a matching bra, she says in a sultry purr, “I never thanked you for last week.”
I have to put my eyes back in my head. She’s Mr. Shafer’s wife. I swallow hard. Mrs. S is fine, like MILF hot. I know she’s a few years older than me but my cock is twitching at the site of her lean body. I’ve seen her at the gym a few times. Married or not I can appreciate how smoking hot she is.
“Um, you’re welcome,” I say awkwardly, unsure of what it was I did to warrant thanks. Most women who know me past twenty-four hours call me for one of two reasons, a repeat performance or to tell me to fuck off. Other than Candi, she’s usually calling for a favor.
I stumble forward, ready to make my exit when she says, “I’m sorry I lied to you about the fire…It’s just, I’m so lonely.”
Shit! I gotta get out of here. If her husband comes home and sees this, it won’t be anything good. It’d be just my fucking luck too. I glance at the clock on the kitchen wall and realize Jimmy is usually home by now. We usually share the elevator on the way up.
“I’ll pay,” she pleads desperately, her bottom lip quivering in time with her shaky voice.
My baby blues must be bugging out of my head. Does she mean what I think she means? I’m afraid to ask but curiosity and my dick get the best of me. I squint thinking I must be crazy. “You want to pay me to fuck you?”
Her meek arms wrap around her torso and the tears start to fall. “Jimmy never touches me. He isn’t attracted to me. I just want to be wanted.” She wipes her eyes, smearing her makeup.
“Damn, don’t cry.” I glance to the open door. “Where’s Jimmy now?”
“On business in Tennessee, until Sunday,” she tacks on.
I will probably regret this but I move to the door, shutting it with my foot. I take a seat on another man’s couch and pat the space beside me, inviting his nearly naked wife to sit next to me.
She saunters across the room, still intent on seducing me. She doesn’t realize I’m already a sure thing. I just want to make sure this is really what she wants.
One night.
No strings.