Naked Naiveté

By Anna Riley

Envision a ladies night out where cocktails are consumed, and dating woes, exhumed. Stories of edgy entanglements, flirty flings, and romantic risks ensue. A few too many means a few will divulge a dirty darling, or two. 

Naked Naiveté is fictional realism with flashes of literary dignity.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ransom Hart Publishing
• Release date: Feb 15, 2019
• ISBN: 9781733646123

Anna Riley

Anna Riley lives Where the West Begins and writes under a pen name. Her penchant for composition began at the age of nine but faltered when her diary brought shame. So, barring fortune or fame, the anonymity will remain.                                                Recommendations are appreciated.

Book preview

CONTENTS

Setting the Stage

Enabling Escapades

A Lucky Break

Reject Reckoning

Hiding in Hindsight

Hangry

Bartering Beef

A Secret Slip

When Wrong Feels Right

Pretty, Petty, and Poison

Swimming in Innocence

The Other Woman

The Cottage Secret

I lead a life of

perfect disorder.

Fantasy and reality

caught on the border.

SETTING THE STAGE

Aneighbor heard the ruckus we were making. I wonder what he imagined when he came out to see a woman in a cheerleader costume waiting to be hoisted over a locked fence by the owner of the condo. It didn’t bother Mac that we attracted attention; he was amused. Hello, neighbor. I hope we didn’t wake you, he said, knowing damn well we probably did because it was two in the morning. I forgot my key, Mac admitted. She’s not really a cheerleader, she just plays one at work, he explained when the neighbor offered to help. Even in my tipsy state, I knew the neighbor was probably only being helpful so he could get a good look up my skirt. My outfit often made men curious about which sport I like best and left me open to constant forays of foreplay.

They both begin to propel me until I am able to throw one leg out and over the top of the gate and place my foot on the doorknob. As my other leg follows, landing on the iron crossbar, I turn to see their hands still hanging mid-air, as if waiting to catch me. They look a little disappointed that their might is no longer needed. The neighbor’s smile fades as his hands fall to his side, his part played out.

When I jump down, my skirt lifts like an umbrella, to reveal my matching bikini. I hear the neighbor mumble his goodbye as I smooth down my skirt. Mac winks at me with lusty anticipation. I open the gate, and his hand intertwines over mine while we walk through the house. Alone at last, he sighs. He owns the restaurant where other restaurant workers go after work, making me a frequent guest. We have mutual friends, and he frequents the costume-themed restaurant where I work as a cocktail waitress. When he invited me to meet him for drinks after my shift, he specifically requested that I remain in costume. I wasn’t surprised or insulted; I silently wondered if he knew that I also play the part of Red Riding Hood.

As we stand next to the bed, he traces over the giant letter B sewn over the tight loops of cotton. I close my eyes as he drags his finger across the covered curves of my breasts. I feel his hands lift and swiftly mold around my face as he brings his lips to mine for a long overdue tongue lashing. When he reluctantly pulls away, I watch his eyes roll back under half lids as he tugs the bulky sweater over my head. Once exposed, his eyes devour my milky skin. He watches intently as the soft center shrivels and puckers. He rubs one nipple before bending down to lick and kiss them both. His fingers fumble at my waist with the button and zipper, finally unbinding me from the pleated folds. I use my heels to force the saddlebacks and socks from my feet and kick them aside. He lifts his head and steps back so he can watch as I slowly inch my panties down around my hips until they fall freely to the floor. He strains to kiss me again while stripping himself of clothing. 

We are in a state of repose, following the first act. He’s admiring my body, which I tried to cover with a sheet until he protested. He is a nice-looking man, with prematurely gray hair that is more white than silver, and sexy. His body is firm, his skin soft. He is tall, but not too. This physical combination always attracts me. He charmed his way down to my panties and produced a provocative score. 

Following intermission, he is eager for the play to resume.

I want you to do something for me. His upper body is raised, supported by his elbow. He is drawing invisible shapes on the flushed flesh of my belly. He gazes