Ecstasy

Introducing her, Charlie said, “This is my friend Candy. Candy this is Steve Holt. He’s pretty much a hero around here.”

Laughing, Steve said, “Only second to you, buddy.” Turning to greet Candace, he said, “Welcome to the wild and wacky world of erotica. Unbuckle your seat belt and enjoy the ride.”

Candace laughed and gave silent thanks that everyone was working so hard to put her at ease. Of course, she knew that meant she was probably walking around with a panic-stricken look on her face.

And when she caught sight of the cover of Steve’s latest book, she almost gasped aloud. Depicted on the cover were two women in sixty-nine position along with the title, Sixty-Nine Kinds of Love.

Knowing she was trapped in a full-body flush, with Charlie’s hand tucked in hers, all she could think about was what it would feel like if his head was buried between her legs, his tongue lapping at her clitoris. No matter how hard she tried to clear the sexy vision from her mind, she just couldn’t.

Fortunately, the two men were busy catching up with each other, and hadn’t noticed her reaction to the sexy book cover.

“So, how’s the new book going Charlie?” Steve was asking him.

“Pretty good,” Charlie replied, running his free hand through his golden blond hair. “I’m having some trouble with my character’s motivations, but I’ll figure it out in time.”

Steve laughed and said to Candace, “I swear to God, this is the only author I know who wants to know what his characters ate for breakfast in high school. Most of us are content to be able to do a character sketch for their past couple of years.”

“Wow,” Candace said to Charlie. “You sound pretty thorough.”

The look Charlie gave her was so hot she felt seared to the bone. At least to her panties, which were beginning to feel distinctly moist between her legs.

“I am,” he said hoarsely and then blinked hard a couple of times.

Clearing his throat, Steve said, “Oh, I almost forgot. There’s a woman here from the Chronicle and she wants to interview you about Morning Dew.”

Candace gasped. “You wrote Morning Dew? You’re Charlie Gibson?”

A faint flush stole across his face. “That’s me.”

Too stunned to keep the words from falling out of her mouth, she said, “You’re the reason I wanted to get into erotica.”

Realizing her sentence had come out all wrong, she tried to backpedal, saying, “What I meant is that I absolutely love your books. They move me more than anything else I’ve read.”

Charlie looked incredibly pleased. “Really?”

Cutting in, Steve said, “You’re not the first person who became a convert after reading his stuff. At least half of the people in the room did the very same thing.”

Suddenly, Candace felt incredibly foolish. “And here I am, taking up all of your time, when so many people must be dying to get a word with you.”

Amazingly, Charlie refused to relinquish her hand.

An attractive, medically enhanced brunette, whose tits were each the size of Candace’s head, sidled up to Charlie. “I was just over at the mentoring table and they told me you don’t have anyone under you yet.” Licking her lips for impact, having stressed the word ‘under’ as if it was a magical spell she could weave around him, she pouted and added, “They said you had the final word on who you were going to work with.” Walking her long, polished nails up his arm she said, “So, are you free for some lessons?”

Candace wasn’t sure if her mind was playing tricks on her, considering her gut was teeming with jealous bile, but she thought she saw Charlie flinch and back away from the silicone Amazon.

Turning to her, with a cunning smile on his face, he said, “Actually, Candy has already snatched me up.”

“I did?” she said, before she caught the pleading look Charlie was pinning her with. Trying to recover from the shock of being singled out by the man she respected more than any other writer of erotica, she smiled and slapped him playfully on the arm with her free hand, trying to look like she was just joking around.

“Of course, I did. I’m just teasing you.” Then she turned to the Amazon-bitch and said with false syrupiness, “Actually, I tackled him the minute I saw him walking through the doors to make sure he’d be all mine.”

Glaring at them both with fire in her eyes, the Amazon spat out “Your loss,” at Charlie and then went in search of new prey.

Charlie led Candace into a semi-private corner of the room. “I’m really sorry about that back there. If you don’t want me to be your mentor, I understand perfectly.”

Candace blinked in confusion. “I don’t even know what my mentor is supposed to do.”

Giving her a reassuring smile, Charlie said, “All of the established writers sign up to work with a new writer. You know, to show them the ropes.”

Candace’s brain was assailed with visions of Charlie tying her up to golden bedposts, while she writhed underneath him and begged him to f**k her as hard and fast as he could. She shook her head, wondering when the hell she had started to have such incredibly vivid sexual daydreams.

Looking up at him, suddenly shy, she said, “I can’t think of anyone I’d rather work with.”

And just like that, she leapt head first into the unknown, with the most sexually potent man she had ever encountered.

Chapter Four

Charlie paid the delivery boy from the Love You With Flowers floral design shop on Chestnut Street in the Marina and then watched him get back into his delivery truck and drive away. He picked up the surprisingly heavy cardboard box of red, pink, and purple rose petals, placed them on the floor of his foyer, and closed the front door with a soft click. He leaned his forehead against the back of his front door and closed his eyes.

At least a hundred times in the past week, ever since he had coerced Candace into letting him be her mentor, he had told himself not to f**k this up. From the first moment he met her, in the instant that she had landed atop him in the conference hall, he knew she was special.

Unfortunately, every time he thought about Candace he got lightheaded and his heart started beating to a heavy-metal rhythm within his chest.

He thought back to their phone call, the Monday after the erotic writer’s conference and groaned, remembering how lame he sounded as he outlined his mentoring plan to her. He banged his forehead against the door several times as his words flooded back into his brain.