Edging Straight - Volume Three: Edging Straight, #3

By Tatter Jack

Some birthdays hurt more than others - if you're lucky, that is. Pillow Talk

You know Suzie, John? The Junior in my office? I helped her put her skirt on today. But not her panties. I kept those - they tasted so good! Knock-Knock

I always work Saturday. And it’s always Saturday you come to the store. You said you’d send me the recipe for garlic mushrooms, but you didn’t have my email address. I told you I couldn’t because Steve wouldn’t like it. He’d tell me off. I wish he’d tell me off more often... Dear Diary

Music? Yeah. That's me. Me an' Lady, anyway. Lady's my sax. Time was, you wanted great sax you looked for Johnny. That's me. Back then it was Johnny Blue. Now they call me H. Johnny fuckin' H, an' they laugh. Johnny H

I get out of the car, and I wait. You come round from your side, and you clip the leash to my collar. I pull the slip knot on my bolero top and slide it off, then the button on my wrapover skirt, and I smile. I doesn't get any better than this. Walk Tall

• Language: English
• Publisher: TatterJack-ery
• Release date: Nov 20, 2015
• ISBN: 9781519918475

Tatter Jack

Tatter Jack. A vagabond with delusions of literature. A wandering minstrel who can’t sing or play a note. Oh - and writer of erotica. Yes,I know. I'm sorry. The 'e' word, I mean. It's the Great Sin of Marketing(tm). You have to get certain words in, and 'erotica' is one of them. So I write about people. Who sometimes - OK, fairly often (blush) - have sex. While they're being people :-). So this is me. Tatter Jack. It's a cold night out, so cum on in. Maybe we can warm things up...

Book preview

Dedication

To GWA.

For keeping me straight – and the rest as well.

Pillow Talk

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‘Honey – I’m home!’

That was when everything went black. A - I lifted a finger, and ran it over my eyes – yes, a black silk blindfold will do that.

‘Happy birthday.’ The kiss on the back of my neck, that place that always makes me tingle in another, rather lower place, is as warm as the voice I know so well.

‘Patrick Fitzwilliam O’Malley. If you walk me into our dining room, and there’s a whole bunch of folks in there, and they all leap out from behind the...’ It’s not your name, but it’s the one I use when I want you to know I’m either going to laugh or slap you upside the head, and you’d better talk fast.

A second kiss. And I’m already getting ready to throw anyone in the house out of the nearest window, so the place I’m tingling can be kissed as well. ‘No. There’s nobody here. That... wouldn’t be a good idea. Not tonight.’ Your whisper in my ear is halfway from laughing to nervous as hell, and that is... interesting. ‘Come with me.’ I feel you take my hand, and my arm. You guide me a few steps, and I stumble against the stair. ‘Careful.’

‘Well, take this damn blindfold off then!’

The slap on my ass isn’t exactly a smack – but it’s hard enough to sting . Something I’m certainly not going to forget - and something you’d never, ever done before. I wonder... then another slap stops me wondering. ‘Be a good girl, darling. Come upstairs.’ A third kiss drifts over the back of my neck. The tingle further down isn’t so much a tingle now – I begin to wonder if the next thing I’ll hear will be a fire engine outside. I lift my leg carefully, searching for the step.

At the top of the stairs, we stop. There’s another kiss at the back of my neck. ‘Honey, I can take the blindfold off if you want. Or I can leave it on. But if I leave it on, you have to agree.’ Your voice is warm. Amused, yes, but still that hint of uncertainty.

I smile. ‘Agree to what?’

A kiss. This time, a tiny bite. A spark flies down from the back of my neck, and my nipples turn rock hard. ‘You have to agree to be a good girl. And to do as you’re told.’

I laugh. ‘Oh. Oh, wow. Oh wow-wow-wow. You found my diary didn’t you, you bastard?’ I couldn’t sound angry if I’d tried. My nipples and my clitoris are playing rock, paper, scissors, and neither of them are interested in paper or scissors.

‘Well?’ Since I wasn’t breaking anything, I guess you figure things are OK. The nervousness is gone, and your voice is all soft, liquid caramel warm.

I grin. ‘Well what?’

‘Well what do you want? You have to say it.’ If a smile can be heard, even under the blindfold I can hear yours. Oh, well. In for a penny... ‘I want to be a good girl, Sir. And I want to do as I’m told.’ I pause. And I smile even more. ‘You bastard, Sir.’

The slap against my behind is even harder than the first two. I wondered if it’s left a mark, but I figure my skirt and panties are probably padding enough. For now, anyway...

Fingers take hold of the buttons of my shirt, and slip them, slip them