Book of the Month Club

"You're not a freak, you're beautiful," I ran a finger along her jawline, "but there's more. We go together well. If I had to be trapped with anyone for the shelter in place order, I would choose you first."

"Then why..." she bit off what she was about to say.

She stared into my eyes for a moment as if she wanted to say something, then looked away; our moment of closeness slipped away like an off color joke at a religious convention.

"Thank you for your insight," she muttered crestfallen as she pushed away from me.

"You don't want another kiss to see if everything is covered."

"One was quite enough, thank you."

A sad smile crossed her face as she stepped back.

"I've got two pages to go before I can stop. How are you doing?"

"I'm a little less than half way."

"You won't be done until eight o'clock this evening," she pointed at my chair, "let's get moving. Chop, chop. You don't want to be running around here naked by the end of the first week."

I sat down and plodded along watching with envy as her fingers flew across the keyboard. She was in the middle of a love scene, and I had given her a few ideas. An hour later she stood and stretched. When she sat on the couch eating a fudge pop, I hated her for a second. I responded by not thinking and letting my fingers fly across the keyboard. An hour later, I was done. There were a thousand mistakes, but the amazing thing was that some text was very good, some of it was crap, and the stuff in between could be cleared up with a quick edit in the morning. I closed my lap top and stood for a triumphant stretch.

"Took you long enough," she mused from the couch.

I held my tongue. It was her turn to cook dinner. When I irritated her, I got a boiled cabbage dinner. I detest boiled cabbage. It's like eating what's left after everything good has been boiled away.

I had settled back after dinner reading a journal article when Leah came up with her computer under her arm.

"I've got a friend who needs help," she began as she set her computer on the coffee table then sat in front of it on the sofa, "she has some vignettes that need to be critiqued for her film making class. Each one is about a half hour long, and afterwards we need to write a brief couple of paragraphs on how we like what we saw. Are you willing?"

I set down my journal.

"Sure."

Leah set everything up, hit play on her computer, and settled in beside me on the couch leaning into me as she usually did.

The scene opened on a couple with their wedding rings prominently displayed on their hands. They were sitting side by side on the couch when the woman put aside the book she was reading and kissed her husband on the cheek.

"I've been keeping track of my temperature," she said in a low sexy voice, "I'm at my most fertile for the next three days."

She then grabbed him by the face and laid a lip lock on him before she stood, pulled her t shirt off over her head and threw it at him. She then walked off leaving a trail of clothing behind her.

I turned to Leah.

"What the heck are we watching?"

Leah put her finger to my lips.

"Let's keep watching."

The scene cut to the bedroom where she is laying nude on the bed waiting for her husband. Her fingers brush against her nipples stiffening them. Everything about her is soft and receptive.

"I want you more than I've ever wanted a man," she says in a hoarse whisper as the husband sheds his clothing and slides into the bed beside her.

They kiss as the man strokes her body from shoulder to thighs. She responds by grabbing the man's hand to keep it over her breast.

"I love your touch," she whispers into her husband's ear before kissing it.

"I love you more than I ever thought I could love another person," the man whispers as he draws his hand across her breast stroking her nipple to her delight.

The director has chosen well. The woman looks so ripe, so fertile that I felt my erection harden. My problem was that I was wearing a pair of cut off sweat pants. There was no way that I was going to hide a stiffy. I glanced over at Leah whose total attention was devoted to the video. So much so that she was unaware that she is stroking her own breast. Leah was a very sensual person and this didn't surprise me a bit.

The action on the screen proceeded according to the rules of porn except this wasn't porn. The actors could act, and I found myself free of the derision that I heaped on porn actors, their impossible situations, and their impossible positions. I liked these people. They're making tender love, not having sex. That difference made what they were doing less tawdry, more meaningful.

I was aware of Leah sitting beside me. She lifted my arm and slid under it. I pulled her tighter and slid my hand up and down her arm. The next time I looked down, her hand was on my thigh. My erection was tenting my shorts. There was nothing I can do to hide it. If Leah was aware of it, she wasn't acknowledging it.

The couple make love, of course, but there are no graphic shots of penetration. Instead the camera focuses on her face and their bodies locked in the process of creating a new life. When she orgasms, Leah's hand dropped to my erection and gave it a quick squeeze, but pulled back when she realized what she has done. I did the only thing I could do, I pretend it never happened.

When the clip was done, neither Leah or I wanted to move. I was quite happy with her sitting a kiss away. Our bare legs were touching. I wanted to kiss her, but wasn't sure how she would react. After a few moments, she relaxed.

"What did you think?" she asked.

"I liked it. It wasn't porn even though it was about sex."

"My friend calls it Artful Erotica."

"That sounds about right."

"Sorry about grabbing you," Leah says with an embarrassed grin, "I really got involved in the video."

"No problem. I got a little heated myself. I wanted to undress you on the spot."

"And I would have let you," she replied looking up into my eyes.

I thought it might be a joke, but her expression remained dead serious. Again, I wanted to pull her into my arms and reveal the feelings I had been repressing for so long, but I remembered she was still recovering from an abusive marriage. The last thing I wanted to do was make her uncomfortable. Even if she was fine with us becoming lovers, I wasn't sure I wanted to risk living in a tiny apartment with a woman who had spurned me.

"Anyway, my friend has a couple more she wants to send me if that's okay with you?" Leah added when the meaningful moment between us stretched out too long to be comfortable.

I shrugged not sure of what else I could do.

"Sure, I have no problem watching them as long as you don't mind being around a horny guy afterwards."

Leah grinned up at me. "Who says I'm any less turned on?"

Later that night, I lay awake listening to the soft buzzing coming from Leah's room. I did something I swore I would never do. I whacked off while thinking of my flatmate, and had a very restful night of sleep as a result.

The rest of the week proceeded with only one major hitch, the washing machine in the basement broke down, and the landlord couldn't find anyone willing to come out and fix it.

"What are we going to do?" I asked Leah, "we're locked down, and there's no way to wash our clothes."

"We can wash undergarments in the sink and let them dry on the shower rod," she shrugged, "everything else is going to have to stay unwashed until we can't wear them anymore. Sooner or later, the washing machine gets fixed or the laundromats open again."

April 8

Leah threw up her hands and walked over to the window where she sighed as she looked out on the mud and the bare trees of early April.

"The grass hasn't even begun to green up. It's never going to be spring in stupid Michigan."

"What's wrong?" I looked up from my laptop. I had reached a zen state where the words flowed like a tide of warm honey across the page. My brawl scene leaped from my mind onto the paper with uncharacteristic ease, and having been in a couple I typed with confidence.

"I have writer's block," she groaned and pulled her bra away from her side with an audible snap, "this cruel underwear I'm wearing isn't helping either. I'd change, but everything else is dirty."

I looked up and grinned.

"Take it off. I've been going commando for five days."

She shook her head.

"You think I don't know that? Those athletic shorts you're wearing are pretty loose in the leg."

I adjusted my shorts for maximum coverage and waited for my blush to subside.

"Sorry if I've been flashing you."

She waved off my apology.

"Most of my clothes are dirty now as are yours. It's going to get worse before it gets better."

As she stood by the window she performed that womanly magic where she removed her bra without taking off her shirt.

"What happened to your writing? You were going along at a good clip until today."

"I'm at a decision point. There's two ways my story can go from here," she turned to look at me, "I'm not sure which way I want it to go. There's clearly an attraction between them, they're ideal for each other, but doesn't mean that they'll get together right away. There has to be the misunderstanding, the lover's spat, the failed attempts to reconcile, amorous misadventure with other beaus and maidens, and finally, the dramatic gesture that brings them together. At this point, I can't decide if the story is about a mad passionate courtship or about the one that got away."

"Do you want me to read it and offer an opinion?"

"I wrote myself into this box, and I'm the one who needs to write my way out," she shook her head.

"If there's anything I can do to help you, let me know."

She shrugged.

"Can you explain to me how men manage to miss the obvious signals that a woman gives that she's receptive?"

"Have you ever considered the consequences a man faces when he guesses wrong? He can be labeled a jerk or a perv. There's also the emotional consequences of being shot down in flames. There's loss of self image and it can be embarrassing. Besides what a woman might think is a brazen clue might appear as a subtle hint to a man."

She leaned over and gave me a quick kiss. "Thank you. I think you've helped me. My main guy character is oblivious of my heroine's longing looks and amorous flirting. I guess I'll have to be more blatant."

She looked down at her t-shirt, "By the way, does it bother you if I go braless? The underwire keeps digging into my ribs."

I looked down and watched her wiggle her shoulders as I examined them. Her nipples were doing a fine job of poking out and I for one was happy they were making their presence known. Their presence triggered an instant erection on my part which was anything but subtle in my cut-off sweats.

Leah's deep sexy chuckle followed, "You don't have to say a word, I've got your answer."

I blushed, returned to my typing and a couple hours later, I completed my ten pages for the day. For once, writing was easy. I didn't have to make any decisions along the way, all I had to do was flesh out the current scene and concentrate on the dialog. I had already lost my socks and underwear. I needed an easy day to stay presentable.

After dinner as we were settling in for the evening, Leah held up her bra.

"I didn't reach my writing quota today. I'm braless for the rest of the month," she said shoving her feet against my thigh, "it's just as well, with no washing machine, we'll be naked in no time anyway."

She sat at one end of the couch and I sat at the other.

"Can I offer you a foot massage as a consolation prize?" I patted her feet, "your toes are a little stubby from all the toe dancing you did in ballet as a kid, but other than that your feet look pretty cute."

She drove her heels into my thigh.

"Ow!"

"There's nothing wrong with my toes. You're jealous because you have grotesque prehensile toes good for climbing trees and hanging from limbs," she narrowed her eyes at me and made fists with her hands, "if you wanna fight, I'll fight ya."

"Don't punch me," I threw up my hands, "you've got your thumb tucked inside your fingers. If you hit me like that, you'll snap your thumb and I'll have to take you to the hospital."

"How am I supposed to do it?" She frowned at her hand.

I grabbed her hand and took her thumb out from where she had it tucked inside her fist and positioned her thumb so that it covered her first three fingers at the first set of knuckles next to her nails.

I sat back.

"Okay, now you can punch me."

She examined her hand.

"Are you sure that's the way you're supposed to do it? I'd break a nail if I punched you hard."

I nodded.

"That's why you never see a boxer with long fingernails. Trust me."

I picked up her foot and began kneading it.

"Oh, wow! Does that feel good," she moaned.

"It's a service I offer to frustrated writers," I finished kneading that foot and moved on to the other.

"If women knew you had this talent, there would be a line outside our apartment door," she spoke through a satisfied smile, "I've known you for at least ten years, and you hold out on me for this long? This is the first thing you should have mentioned. I would have moved into your apartment the day I met you. What else can you do?"

"You did move into my apartment the day I met you, and my other talent is I can burp my ABC's," I thought for a moment, "there hasn't been much call for that once I got out of grade school," I reflected a little more, "I can wiggle my ears. Although I have to admit, no one truly appreciates the art form."

"I gotta see that," she said as she sat up.

I took off my glasses and wiggled them.

"Wow, you're truly talented."

She put her hands on either side of her head to feel if she could wiggle her ears.

"So what can you do?" I asked sliding my glasses back on.

She thought for a moment then got a sly smile on her face.

"Nothing, aside from playing the cello, dancing ballet, making my own clothes and knowing how to cook, I guess I misspent my youth graduating in the top ten of my class. What about you?"

"I knew several people who graduated in the top ten, made a still in advanced chemistry class, the alcohol tasted terrible due to the rubber stoppers I used, but it was enough to get me in trouble. I got in at least one fight each year of high school until I grew too big to handle, and got arrested once by the police for egging cars on Halloween."

"How did a juvenile delinquent like you even get into college?" Leah shook her head.

"I got serious about my grades my Junior year and pulled straight A's for my last two years, and scored a lot higher on the SAT's than anybody thought I would."

"I had a little bit of a crush on you in high school," Leah smiled at me, "you were so tall and strong, and you didn't act all stuck up like a jock plus you were a little bit dangerous."

"I was too busy being a nerd to act stuck up. I liked chemistry and physics. Stuff like that is a sure turn off to high school girls. I wish you would have told me, high school could have been a lot more fun for both of us."

"You were hanging with the wrong group. The girls in my group would have worshiped you had you paid us the least bit of attention," she shook her head, "you were so different from the 'nice' guys I was dating who weren't very nice when they got me alone. There was an air of mystery about you. You weren't a bad boy by any means, but there was a feeling of danger about you."

"I wish you would have told me at the time. I spent most of high school without the benefit of female companionship," I chuckled.

Once again, I got the impression that she was waiting for me to say something. After a few moments she turned away with a sigh.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

She shook her head and gave me a sad smile.

"Nothing really. I was thinking about the shelter in place order. Of anyone I could be trapped with, you're the one I'd choose."

"Thank you," I beamed at her, "I can't think of a more genial person to be trapped with than you."

"By the way, I got another vignette from my friend. Want me to cue it up?

I nodded, and she went to her room to fetch her computer. Once she had it set up, she cuddled in next to me under my arm when the vignette began to play.

This time a man in a Speedo emerges from the water on a deserted beach as seagulls wheel in the bright sky overhead and waves wash against the shore. He's toned, and there isn't a spare bit of fat on his body. When he sees that the woman is watching him, he smiles and waves. The camera pulls back to show that they are in a deserted cove surrounded by cliffs. The brilliant sunshine is so intense that I can feel it through the screen.

"You took too long, I got lonely," the woman pouts as he sits down on the towel beside her.

Her accent is vaguely European, perhaps Italian. She has the coloring for it with a dark mane of curly hair and a flawless olive complexion. She slips off her bikini top and begins applying tanning oil to her arms.

"I've got to exercise to stay in shape," the man says sipping water from a bottle.

He show no belly even when he is sitting down. The woman is giving him appreciative glances.

"There are more fun ways to stay in shape," she replies brushing her fingers across his crotch, "it is a tiny suit for such a big man, no?"

The man responds by reaching behind the woman and pulling the ties that hold her bikini bottoms on. He then pulls it away from her revealing her lovely naked body. She has no tan lines. Her nipples are large and erect. The woman purrs when he strokes across her firm nipples with the back of his fingers.

"We can make love now, or later back at the hotel."

The woman answers by pulling at his trunks.

Leah who was breathing deeply sat up straight and pulled my hand to her breast. It was soft and warm. Her nipple is prominent and I tweak it through her t shirt. I want more.

"Lean forward," I demand.

When she does, I pull her t shirt completely off. She does not object, to the contrary she seems happy to be rid of it. I remove my own t shirt and throw it on the floor. Leah wastes no time crawling between my spread legs so that I can stroke her breasts from behind. They fit perfectly in my hand. She moaned as I squeezed them. I loved her naked back. She tapered perfectly from shoulders to waist and then flared at her luscious hips. She is a work of art.

On screen, the couple are naked. The woman has lain back on her towel, and the man is kissing her as his hands stroke her breasts. The woman reaches down to his firm cock and gives it a few slow strokes.

My hand drifted lower on Leah until I was stroking her pussy lips through the fabric of her shorts. Her sighs told me she liked what I was doing. Her moisture has soaked through the fabric. I took my moistened hand and held it beneath my nose to take in her musky aroma. All I want to do is make love to Leah. I slid my hand beneath her waist band and tried to stroke her bare skin but the shorts were too tight. Leah stood and slipped her shorts and panties off in front of me.

She was as perfect as I imagined her. I laid back on the couch and she climbed atop me. We kissed as I kneaded her firm, lush ass. I reclined and wrapped my legs around her and she humped against the lump in my shorts. When I stood to remove my shorts, Leah froze.

"What's wrong?" I asked aware of the change in her.

She sat with her knees together and her arms across her breasts.

"I can't. I thought I could but this is too...intimate. I'm sorry."

She gathered up her clothing and retreated to her bedroom. On the computer screen, the couple are cuddling in the afterglow of love making. There are satisfied smiles on their faces as they gaze into each others' eyes.