A Matter of Trust

Minutes later, I brought in a tray with a cup of hot cocoa for each of us. The cups were quite warm and Nikki was soon blowing on hers to cool it in spite of her condition.

"Marshmallows?"

"Yes, please."

We sipped the hot chocolate for a few minutes when it was cool enough before I finally felt okay to ask. "Nikki? Why are you here? We decided not to see each other any more, remember?"

She shook her head, her eyes looking down at the foam in her mug. "I'm sorry, Marc. You gave me a wonderful Christmas present, so I need to give you one, too."

She was still delirious, not remembering that she'd given me a present or that it was almost a week after Christmas, just a few hours before the New Year. "Nikki, I think we need to get you to the hospital—"

"No, Marc! I'm serious. I know I gave you a present, but it was something from a store. You gave me the story, something from your heart and I want to do the same for you, even if you don't ever want to see me again."

"Nikki, please. It 's not that I don't want to see you, but we both know it was a matter of trust. We hadn't been seeing each other long enough to know each other well enough to trust each other as much as you were asking. I'm sorry, but without that, I couldn't give you what you wanted...as much as I wanted it, too. I'm sorry that nothing has changed since then, either, so you really don't need to give me anything else."

She nodded forcefully. "But I do, Marc. You gave me a story, a really sweet one, from your heart, and I shared it with a friend."

"That's fine, Nikki. It doesn't matter; the story is yours. I wrote it, but I gave it to you and you can share it with whomever you wish. Now, let's stop talking about this so we can get you warm enough to get you home."

She looked into my eyes and I could see her sadness but also a sense of determination. "Marc, please, will you at least trust me for a minute? Just hush up and listen, okay?"

I nodded, knowing that it would probably just mean I'd have to hurt her again when she was done, but it was what she wanted so I wouldn't feel completely at fault. "Go ahead, Nikki. I'm listening."

"Marc, I run Keller Professional Transcription Services like I told you, but one of the other services I offer is editing of manuscripts of all types, including fiction. I was an English major in college, and I'm quite good at it, working for a number of authors and for several different publishers. I picked the publisher I thought might be the best fit and I sent your story to them. It went to my friend GiGi Thornmacher at Preston Bekaert Publishing. She read it, Marc, and now she wants to publish your story! Can you believe it? And she wants to see more of your works to see if she can publish them, too!"

I looked at Nikki, more than a little skeptical, I'm afraid. I'd never heard of GiGi Thorn-whatever or Preston Bekaert Publishing. It sounded more than a bit like Nikki was trying to get me to show her my stories so she could pretend to give them to her friend. She could come back later and tell me that the deal had fallen through and I'd have nothing to show for it but would then have my identity exposed.

"Nikki, please. Stop! No more tricks, okay? I'd love to show you my stories, but you just don't get it. My boss is a nice guy, but he's the straightest straight arrow I've ever known. The man would fire me in a heartbeat if he ever found out I wrote erotic stories in my spare time, and he's big enough in our industry that he could blackball me so I'd never get another job in town and maybe never get another one anywhere. That's why I couldn't share them earlier, and that's why I still can't. Let's just drop it, okay?"

There were tears in her eyes as she looked at me. "It's true, Marc, every word I said." She reached over on the floor and picked up her purse that she'd dropped when we sat down. It was a big bag and out came a book that she handed to me, followed by another, and then another. Six books in all, three hardback novels and three paperbacks, were passed to me, where I glanced at each. In looking at them, I realized they were all publications of Preston Bekaert Publishing.

When I looked up at her, my mouth open, she handed me her phone that was open to the Preston Baekert website. More authors were listed, including one or two I thought I recognized. Over on the left were several books that had won awards in recent months, including a couple of awards that even looked familiar.

Oh, it could be a con, with self-published books and an elaborate website all created to trick me, a sting that would make Newman and Redford proud, but where was the payoff? Revenge for not getting what she wanted? Possibly...

"Nikki, is this true, and not just some big joke on Marc? Please, tell me the truth." Not waiting for her response, I slumped down on the couch.

Nikki smiled as she retrieved her phone and ran her delicate thumbs across it again. This time, when she handed it to me, the screen was on a web page featuring Georgianna "GiGi" Thornmacher, welcoming readers and potential authors alike. Then she reached in her bag again and handed me some papers. On top was a email string between Nikki and GiGi, with the papers stapled together, and below that, with a binder clip, was a contract between Preston

Bekaert Publishing and...the author's name, I saw, was blank.

"GiGi wants your story, Marc. She wants your other stories, too, assuming they're anywhere close to being as good as this one. She said you can even protect your identity, pick a pen name so no one will even know it's you, though she really wants you to do a book tour, so that will be tough."

"I'm having a really hard time processing this, Nikki. I show you my works, you and this 'GiGi' get what you want, and then it's like the curtains are going to fall and everyone is going to laugh at the poor sucker who thought he'd hit it big. He gives up his secret and then everyone knows it. Please, Nikki, tell me it's not a joke."

"No, it's no joke, Marc, there aren't any curtains, and no one's laughing, except maybe you on the way to the bank. It's real if you'll let it be. And Marc, I don't even want you to show your works to me; I don't want to see them now. You can do that with GiGi when the time comes. Oh, I'll see them eventually when they're published, but we have time to work things out between us before that...or not. If you don't want to ever see me again, I can walk away. I'll be crying, but I can walk away."

"Nikki, let's not get hasty, okay? Or teary eyed."

She smiled, giving me a little nod, before looking at her phone in front of her again. She hit a button and then put the phone on speaker as it rang.

"Nikki, hey, what's up?" It was a female voice and sounded as if it was on speaker.

"Hi, GiGi, I'm here with my friend, Marc, the author. Do you have a moment to talk with him?"

"Sure, by all means! Put him on! We've got to get this guy signed."

"It's on speaker, GiGi. He's heard everything we've said."

"Oh, hi, Marc, I'm GiGi Thornmacher, President and CEO of Preston Bekaert Publishing. How are you?"

"Well, thanks, but really confused by what Nikki's telling me."

"That's understandable, but we'll work through it all with you. We're so excited about the possibility of you joining us at Preston Bekaert! It can be a great thing for both of us."

It struck me then. "GiGi, I hate to do this, but I have what may be a strange request. Can we do this by video?"

"Sure!"

Moments later, we switched to video chat and I was looking at GiGi Thornmacher. I'd done some additional searching online on my phone while Nikki was speaking with her, and I'd found a number of photos of her at various events. This was either her or her doppleganger.

We spoke for a few minutes as she went over some of the info in the email and the agreement before she added, "Marc, as much as we want you, please don't rush into this. Get an attorney to review the agreement, and ask any questions you might have. We want you to be part of our stable of authors over the long term, but we find that works best if there aren't any surprises or disappointments up front and that you're completely happy. Do you have anything else for me now?"

We ended the call after some closing pleasantries and I leaned back, looking at Nikki.

"Wow. You promise it's real?"

She laughed. "Yes, Marc, it is. Now, the first thing we need to do...Mark Twain, George Eliot, Richard Bachman, Jack Higgins, and quite a few more are taken, but we can come up with a good pen name one for you. Maybe...M.P. Thomas."

"Huh? I get the MP, for Marcus Pope, but how'd you come up with Thomas?"

"You know, as in Doubting Thomas, the Disciple who didn't trust his eyes but had to touch Jesus's wound to believe?"

I finally laughed, relaxing a bit, but I reached out and put my hand on hers.

"Nikki, thank you. I can't believe you did this."

"Marc, I'm doing it for you, but I hope you'll reconsider and give me another chance. I like you a lot and really want to see if there can be something between us like we both seemed to think. I want to earn your trust, and, if it works out, earn a lot more with you for a long, long time."

Trust goes both ways and she'd done a lot to earn mine. Now, I realized, I wanted to earn hers, too.

"I'll be right back."

I grabbed my laptop from my study and took my seat on the couch next to her moments later. She snuggled up next to me.

"Whatcha doing?"

"English major, eh?"

"It's a holiday and I'm off duty. Sue me."

"No. But I, ah, I do need to show you something."

I retrieved the laptop and typed for a few seconds before turning it toward her. "Nikki, I trust you."

There on the screen was my profile page on the website. Nikki's eyes grew large and she clapped her hand over mouth as her breath caught in her throat. She clicked on my story list and nodded before reaching in her pocket and pulling her phone back out.

"Nikki, what are you doing?" I asked, fearing for a moment that the final joke was on me, that the laughter was about to start after all. My heart sank as my worst fears were recognized. "No," I whispered, fearing what was to come.

"GiGi!" she practically squealed. "I have a late Christmas present for you and it's a huge one!"

"Calm down, girl! What is it?"

"I found out who wrote the Delilah series we were discussing! It's Marc!"

There was another squeal, but this time, it was from over the line. "Nikki, put Marc on the line!"

Delilah? What did Delilah have to do with anything? "Ah, I'm here, GiGi."

"Marc, shred the contract you have—"

There, despite their seeming excitement, the joke was over. My dream of being published had been crushed, with my unsigned contract not worth the cost of the paper it was printed on.

"Why, GiGi? I thought you wanted me," I said, barely pushing out the words.

"Want you? We do, Marc, but we want you a whole hell-of-a-lot more now if you wrote Delilah! We'll send you the contract you deserve, with some extra dollar signs. You're going to be famous, young man! Let's set up a video conference call as early this coming week as possible so we can discuss how to get started.

I was speechless, but was able to agree to a time I could speak with her during the coming week. We made arrangements for the call, she sent me the invite, and we said our goodbyes. When silence returned, I looked over at Nikki to see that she looked rather sad.

"Nikki, what's wrong?"

"This means you'll never be able to finish Delilah online. You'll have to tweak it and rewrite parts of it and it will be different than the story I've been reading for so many months, the story that you wrote without me realizing it was you. It will end up being Esmeralda or Isabel or something like that who finds herself in the end, and poor Delilah, my heroine, will be left in the proverbial ash heap." She stood up and collected her bag, putting the books back inside.

"You've been reading my Delilah story," I said, finally understanding. "And you...and GiGi...really like it."

She nodded. "We love it! But now GiGi will get it and make you change it."

"We'll see about that. Delilah's a strong character growing into herself and her sexuality, so she might just stand up and refuse to change. What if we kept the first part online, just like it is, with any minor corrections, of course, and then post that the first half and the as-yet-to-be published second half will be released in book form? It's my story and the website is a host, not a copyright owner, so maybe?"

Nikki threw her arms around me and gave me a hug before slowly letting go and putting the last book in her bag.

"Where are you going?"

"It's time for me to go, to let you celebrate."

"No, the only celebrating I'm doing is with you. Secret identity, remember? I can't tell anyone else until we work out a good pen name and cover story. We're going to have to work together, very closely together, I think, to do that."

She smiled and asked, "Just how close are we talking?"

I pulled her into my arms. "This is a start."

"A kiss might be nice, too," she whispered.

It was, feeling perfect as we embraced and our lips meshed so intently, wiping away the horrible memories of our fight and the loneliness we'd each experienced over the past few days. I slid my laptop over to the end of the couch to keep it from becoming a casualty in our heated action. Indeed, the cold was now forgotten as the fireplace and our kisses continued to heat us.

"What a wonderful way to spend New Year's Eve," she breathed when we took a break for air.

"What a wonderful way to spend the year, old or new," I agreed, before kissing her again. This time, though, her hands slid under my sweater, pushing it up and then off to giggles as it interrupted our kiss. I helped her with her shirt and bra, too, as she undid my buckle and button, trying to get my pants down. Everything else followed, and within moments, we were both naked, her beautiful body on display in the light of the flames, and my penis giving her a standing salute. She took me in hand and led me around the table to stand on the rug in front of the fireplace, before beginning a slow, up-and-down massage.

"Let's make love here in front of the fireplace. I want to feel your heat inside me as the flames warm us. Please, Marc."

I nodded, pulling her close against me, trapping my dick between our bellies, as my left hand held her waist and my right cupped her buttock, my fingers just inches from the delicious fire of her own. I massaged her, again and again, before slipping my fingers deeper, between her legs and into her desire.

"Mmmmm," she moaned as she arched her back, pushing her ass out and spreading her legs a bit to allow me to slip a second finger inside. Her hand was back on me then, wrapped around me like a kid glove, and moving to match my motion in her depths. Her breasts were trapped against my chest when our lips reconnected and our tongues probed.

Nikki's moans became stronger when I sawed my fingers out and added a third before thrusting back inside. At the angle, I think I was hitting her G-spot for it only took a few more rounds before she threw her head back, biting her lip, and then let out a loud moan as she collapsed against me.

"Oh my God, Marc, that was so good," she panted as I held her up. "Make love to me now, please? No condom, I'm on the pill."

I eased her down and grabbed all of the pillows to help prop her up. I kept two little ones for my knees as I positioned myself before her, lining my head against her very wet lips and sliding inside. Slow and steady, I found my way to her depths, my pubis against hers as my penis was deep inside her velvety tunnel.

"That's good, Marc. Keep going."

I withdrew slowly until I was almost completely out before starting that wonderful movement back inside. Back and forth we went, with Nikki caressing me with her muscles and me continuing to move exploring her depths until she whispered, "There, Mark, right there!"

She slipped one hand around to grip my ass, as if pulling me deeper inside, while rubbing her clitoris with the other. I held myself up with one hand to keep the angle she wanted and to allow her to work her nub while I massaged one of her beautiful breasts, pulling up and away to match my thrusts, giving her nipple a pinch between my fingers when I could and just delighting in her soft firmness the rest of the time.

Unlike when we'd made love the first time, Nikki seemed happy to be unrestrained, free to moan, free to express herself. Now her eyes were locked on mine as she moved her pelvis to match my movements. "Keep going, Marc, I'm getting close. I want to feel you do it in me, to feel you come inside my pussy. Please, don't stop."

Intently, I watched her eyes watching mine, as I thrust, harder still, in and out of her, but then her lids started fluttering and her head rolled as she let out the biggest moan yet. I could feel her vaginal muscles contract and I let go, stopping balls deep, and spurting deep with her, matching her moans with ones of my own as my own spasms went on.

Nikki pulled me down atop her then, wrapping her arms and legs round behind me. "Oh, Marc, that was so good. Just hold me now, okay?"

I did, pulling the blanket around us and tucking a corner under us to catch the mess I'd helped create inside her.

"What time is it, Marc? Is it midnight yet?"

"No, not midnight. I think it's around 8:30 or maybe 9?"

She looked at me in surprise. "Really, so we might be able to make love again to celebrate the New Year at midnight?"

"I can deal with that if you can," I laughed, "and maybe some other celebrations between now and then, too."

It was a fun evening, the best New Year's Eve celebration ever, at least in my experience, and with Nikki and I getting to know each other better between bouts of getting to know each other much better. We were making love at midnight with Nikki riding atop me and me massaging her breasts when the New Year arrived, but it was several minutes later before we finished and realized we'd missed the countdown.

Nikki was so cute nestled up against me afterward. "Marc, I know we haven't been dating that long, but I have something important that I want to tell you."

I liked her a lot and had high hopes for where our relationship had the potential to go, but I wasn't sure if either of us was ready for what she was about to say. It was too soon for love or for us to claim to be falling in love with each other, even though I was quite sure I was already head over heels for her.

Therefore, I put a finger to her lips and said, "Sweetheart, shhh. Let's not rush into anything, okay? I like you a lot, a whole lot, and want to see where this goes, but I really wouldn't want us to jinx it."

She smiled and nodded. "Oh, no problem, and I don't want that either. I like you a whole lot, too, Marc, so we'll take that part slow and easy." She grinned as she added, "But Marc, until then, what I wanted to tell you is that I have a whole list of Delilah's favorite sex positions I can't wait for us to try!"

The End

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Follow-up Note:

Thank you for reading and for voting. Any feedback in the form of favorites, follows, and comments are appreciated, too!

The legal aspects of publishing can be more complicated than touched on in this story.

Finally, "The Delirious, Decadent Dreams of Delilah" isn't an actual story to the best of my knowledge...at least not yet.