Make Me

His powerful hands gripped firmly to Holly's hips as he drew back and pushed immense pleasure deep into her. An aching moan slipped from her shuddering lips while her back arched with each plunge. The taut cords of his broad chest and tempered abs tensed as he drew back, and again, entered her tight warmth. Holly's eyes rolled and shut tight; never had she experienced such pleasure from a sexual encounter.

The sun peeked in through cherrywood blinds and focused its sharp beams on Holly's closed eyes, rudely waking her from deep slumber and the luscious sex dream she was in the thick of. Her eyes creaked open, then shut tight to shield them from the bright light of morning. She rubbed the sleep dust from her eyes and sat up in a plush king bed, clinging to a warm goose down comforter. Grimacing at the enormous Roman numeral clock that hung on the bedroom wall, she realized that it was six forty-five on a Saturday morning.

Holly had been house-sitting her self-made cousin's modest, six-bedroom Mediterranean style mansion for about a week now. Loaded Cousin Allison—famous for her customizable, hands-free clitoral vibrator invention called the Lady-B—had decided to take a sabbatical, and in her own words, "travel the Orient." That meant traveling the same East Asian countries she had traveled many times before, but for a shorter vacation time of about six months. Holly volunteered to help watch over the lux home for her cousin, not only for the rich person amenities: the indoor pool/spa/jacuzzi room, the in-home movie theater with massaging seats, the fully stocked fridge, but to also get a more-than-welcome break from rooming with her own parents. Holly's parents insisted she live at home until she finished her (in their own words) "useless, unemployable, liberal arts degree," to save up money for the crippling amount she would have to pay back toward her student loans.

Sleeping was a rare event for Holly, due to college courses and a spastic retail job schedule, so waking up close to seven on her first Saturday off in months (in an unbelievably comfortable bed) irked her more than she thought it would. The interruption of the hot and heavy dream-pounding she took from that gorgeous and endowed stranger soured her mood even more; she enjoyed sex dreams and rarely had any that were that stunning and realistic. Who was that beast of a man anyway? He seemed familiar, and oddly enough, felt familiar, but Holly couldn't remember if he was reality-based, or just a figment of her horny dream imagination. She knew she wouldn't be able to fall back asleep, and even if that were possible, the steamy dream she was rudely thrust out of would not return.

The Cafe Prestissimo Home Espresso Machine sputtered and ejected hot liquid all over the gourmet kitchen's pearl tumbled marble countertop. "Shit!" Holly shouted as she dodged the molten spray to reach the off switch. The searing droplets kept her from reaching any of the numerous buttons on the front panel. Shielding her face, she reached toward the back of the machine and yanked its plug out of the socket on the wall. "Wonderful..." Holly muttered. No coffee and an early wake-up time on a Saturday was a great start to the weekend. At least she had time alone to do whatever she wanted in a swanky abode.

Wiping down the countertop with a kitchen towel, she wondered what she should do with her precious time. Watch TV? Sitting in front of a screen for hours made Holly feel wasteful of her Saturday. Exercise? Nah. She had her fill of pain and sweat at her extracurricular Bikram Yoga class last Tuesday. What about...? That's right! Relaxation while getting her blood pumping: procrasturbation. Upstairs, in the master bedroom, sat a duffel bag with her clothing, toiletries, and a brand-new, never-used vibrating G-spot dildo inside. Before Allison left for her trip, she offered Holly a free Lady-B vibrator as a pre-thank-you gift for watching her home; it was too weird for Holly to accept a clit vibrator from someone she played hide and seek with as a child, so she quickly denied the gift. The thought of the modestly sized, vibrating purple cock made a warmth rise up between Holly's legs. Putting some embarrassment and prudishness aside, she purchased herself a sex toy and was excited to finally use it.

Holly fetched the gaudy dildo and a beach towel from her duffel bag. Walking back down the cherrywood stairs to the single-family-home-sized living room, she tossed the dildo and towel onto the cream-colored sectional that sat in front of a pearl tumbled marble coffee table, facing a 120-inch flat screen mounted on the wall. Watching porn on an enormous television was something Holly never experienced. Cousin Allison had premium dish channels that included premium porn programs, so why not experience it on a big screen with surround sound instead of with headphones, inside a locked bathroom, on a tiny tablet computer?

Pulse racing at the naughtiness Holly would partake in, she grabbed the remote from the marble coffee table and commenced her smut search. "HAIRY SNOGGER AND THE COCKRING OF FIRE," "THREESOME COMPANY," and "FEAR AND LOATHING IN YOUR ANUS," to name a few. The doorbell chimed in the tune of Für Elise and startled her out of her channel surfing. A grumble of annoyance spilled from her mouth. Her feet dragged to the security camera monitor by the front door to see if it was anyone worth answering.

Holly's heart jumped—her eyes widened to double their original size. There he was on the security monitor. With clipboard in hand and sporting a tight, forest green T-shirt and black jogging pants (all of which hinted at his incredible, brawny physique)—it was the gorgeous man from Holly's dream! "Holy shit..." Holly whispered. She finally remembered who the Dream Man was. The late twenty-something man; a stone-cut jawline, lush lips, gallant nose, unyielding emerald eyes, framed by his messily coiffed dark brown hair, had been at Cousin Allison's doorstep last week on the second or third day of Holly's house-sitting stay. What was he selling? Holly couldn't remember. His athletic bod, exquisite face, and striking eyes were the only thing that caught her attention. All she could recall was that she politely declined his offer for whatever he was selling by mentioning that the homeowner wasn't available, and she watched his firm butt as he walked away from the front doorstep. But why was he here again? Holly took a deep breath to calm her rattling nerves and thumping heart. She pulled on the crystalline doorknob and opened the cherrywood door.

The gorgeous man looked up at Holly and grinned, but his smile soon dropped to an embarrassed purse of his lips. "I've already been here, haven't I?" he said in his gruffly smooth voice.

"Don't remember? The owner won't be back for a long while. I'm just the house sitter, and I don't live around here," Holly said, with a nervous crack of a smile. The gorgeous man sighed in frustration and ran his fingers through his lush hair. He chuckled to himself.

"Sorry. I'm not from around here either—I've been to so many houses, I can't remember the ones I haven't been to," he said with an adorable smile.

"Don't worry about it. I don't even remember what you said you were selling." Holly grinned with stupid infatuation.

"You don't? Well, now I have a chance to talk to you again," he exclaimed, eagerly clasping onto his clipboard and grabbing a pen from his pants pocket. "Hello, madam, my name is Clark."

"Madam?" Holly smirked, "What are you selling, Clark?"

"Straight to it, huh?" Clark's exuberance in his raised brow made Holly weak. "First, I'd like to get to know you a bit before I continue, if that's alright with you, madam."

"It's Holly. 'Madam' sounds like I own a brothel." Holly's internal monologue repeated the mantra of "calm down—don't look like a nervous idiot," then quickly spiraled into thoughts about how delectably hot the stranger in front of her was.

"There are worse jobs than owning a brothel—Door-to-Door Salesman, for example," Clark joked. "Holly's a cute name. Never knew a 'Holly' before." Clark's eyes met hers. Roses bloomed in her cheeks. She turned her nervous gaze away from his jeweled eyes to a less nerve-racking part of Clark. Was there even a less nerve-racking part? They roved down his kissable neck, over the divots of his clavicles, to his broad chest, perusing his abs, and stopped at his subtle, yet impressive, bulge in his jogging pants. Her eyes widened a bit and darted back up to focus on his face. That warmth between Holly's legs came back with a dull pulse. "So, Holly, do you live close by?" He interrupted her gawking.

"The... 'not rich' part of town."

"Hey, me too! How anyone can afford a house in this neighborhood is insane to me. I'm from the west—well, more southwest. You know Ingrid Park? My folks started living there in the eighties after my grandma passed away and my uncle—Sorry... too much information, huh? I'm just wasting your time, aren't I?" Clark shrunk back a bit. Holly's nervous shuffling made him nervous at the prospect of another failed sale.

"We'll see soon enough." Holly composed herself and gave him a sexy smirk. His fumbling start to a sales pitch made her confidence surface. No need to be nervous. He was human, just like Holly (though a specimen of profuse hotness), human nonetheless.

"We just opened up Atlas Fitness downtown. It's a family-run gym—my mom, dad, sisters and I—we just want to spread the word that we're doing a grand opening enrollment at fifty percent off for the first two months if you enroll now."

"You're going door to door... to sign up people for your gym? Aren't there, like, ten Atlas Gyms in this city alone?"

"I think you said that last time... I know it's a stupid idea. My dad's stupid idea... and I'm forced to do it. As you can tell, I'm the last person that should be doing this," Clark said, "And no, there aren't ten Atlas Gyms. That's one chain of four gyms. There's also Atlantis Gym, which makes no sense, Altra Gym, which is a made-up word, and our gym—Atlas Fitness—named after our family, so you know it's a down-to-earth Mom and Pop business that will treat you like... uh... family."

"Nice try on the sales pitch, but it's a bit... not good." Holly quipped. "Wait, your name is Clark Atlas?"

"Well, yeah...," Clark said in a low voice.

"You're serious? Clark Atlas?" Holly prodded.

"Yeah, yeah. I know. Cheesy-ass name." Schoolyard bullying made him intimately aware of how cheesy his name sounded.

"No, I didn't mean—well, it is a bit cheesy, but that's not what I meant. You've got an insanely perfect name for a fitness instructor."

"Or a superhero in the guise of a fitness instructor?"

"Or gritty noir detective." The unexpected ease that she found talking with Clark lowered her guard to the point where she felt comfortable slipping her own brand of goofiness into the conversation. Her lip scrunched upwards in a pout, and she continued on with an attempt at a De Niro impersonation, "Detective Clark Atlas, at your service."

"De Niro?" Clark laughed. "That was adorably terrible. I thought you would've gone with an old-timey expatriate." A handsome, charming dork that was able to discern Holly's shitty impersonation and comment back with a movie reference? A rush of excitement flooded through her.

"My mind thought Bogart, but my mouth blurted out 1970s mafia boss." Realizing that her smile was set on high beam, she toned down her excitement. "Why don't you just advertise online? Have you gotten any gym memberships out of this door-to-door thing?"

"I plan on doing it online. My dad, on the other hand—too old-school for that. So he forces me to go door to door and bug the crap out of people on a Saturday morning. After this unsuccessful Saturday, this brutally unsuccessful week, I'm advertising online, no matter what he says. I've gotten plenty of phone numbers from people—not one membership sign-up."

"Those phone numbers... they don't happen to be from women, do they?"

"Yep," Clark said, exasperated. "Well, all women except for one very pushy older gentleman. You'd think appealing to people who like spry young men would land me at least one sale."

"Good to know that you know when to use your stupid stone-cold fox self to drum up sales."

"That's not what—I'm not trying to brag about—" Clark smiled ear to ear. "I'm a 'stupid stone-cold fox,' huh? Thanks for the compliment."

"Oh please. Are you trying to mine more compliments out of me with modesty?"

"Not at all! Hey, I'm well aware that I'm not terrible to look at... it's just... nice to hear it coming from you." Clark's sincere tone brought back Holly's nerves. He's gotta be fishing for compliments.

"What do you mean 'coming from me?' " Holly folded her arms. What was he getting at?

"I meant coming from someone honest. You said it in such a matter-of-fact way—you used that as a descriptor of me, not as a way of flirting, or trying to get a date out of me... know what I mean?" Clark said, "Sorry... I sound like an idiot. Never mind."

"No... I think I get it. You're saying that you're so used to women swooning and throwing themselves at you, that my honest, non-flirtatious tone in this conversation is a surprise to you."

"If I sound like a pompous douche trying to take advantage of you to get a sale, it's absolutely not my intention."

"Don't worry about that. If you were good at faking honesty and sincerity, you would've been able to do a better sales pitch. In keeping with my whole honesty thing that you recently discovered about me, can I be honest about your membership pitch?"

"God, is it that bad? This is like a huge bandage being ripped off of a very hairy leg. Please make it quick." Clark winced in anticipation. Holly couldn't help but laugh.

"Good to know the extent of your hairiness." Now, Holly was flirting.

"I'd say a comfortable amount of hairiness, thank you very much," Clark laughed along with her. "Maybe someday I'll prove that to you, but for now, just get it over with—tell me how shitty a job I did."

"Shitty job. Not horribly shit, but shit nonetheless. Sorry to break it to you." Holly's laughter subsided to a longing stare. Prove it to me now, Holly's eyes begged. "I wish I could sign up, just to help you out because you're so horrible at sales, but your adorableness just isn't enough to sell me on the membership." Though it did make her want to ravage him right then and there on Cousin Allison's doorstep.

"Well then, tell me, Holly, what can I do? How can I make you sign up?" Damn that smile of his. The warm pulse now radiated through Holly.

A bellowing shout of Holly's name from down the street snapped her out of her lustful daze. Holly and Clark turned to see a tall, gangly man in a yellow stained white T-shirt, long greasy hair, and plaid pajama pants, galumph his way up the sidewalk with a package under his arm. He stopped at the edge of Cousin Allison's long driveway. "Shit..." Holly whispered.

"What? Who's that?" Clark whispered back.

"Hey, Holly!" the stick of a man shouted again. Holly faked a smile and waved politely at him.

"He goes to my college. Motherfucker doesn't even live around here, but he found out that I was house-sitting for my cousin and doesn't leave me the hell alone," she whispered, "Oh God, here he comes." The stickman strolled closer to the two and paused, eyeing Clark. He continued his stride. "Don't get mad," Holly apologized to Clark.

"At what?" Clark whispered back.

"I'm gonna have to use you. Give me that clipboard," Holly whispered. Clark did as he was told. Holly tossed the clipboard behind her, through the doorway into Cousin Allison's home. The stickman stopped several feet away from the two and waved.

"Hey, Holly! How's the house-sitting going? I wanted to check in on you to make sure you were doing well. Need any help?" The closer he got, the more they could smell his cheese-like musk.

"Heyyyy, Doug... I told you I'm fine. I don't need any help, thanks," Holly said sharply. Doug was oblivious to her annoyance.

"The mailman came to leave this package at Allison's doorstep while you were out yesterday. I didn't want it stolen, so I decided to keep it safe for her until you came back," Doug said, holding the small box under his pit-stained armpit.

"You took mail from the front door? You don't even live around here. What were you doing here?" Holly's subtle anger rose. Doug was still oblivious. "Thank you, but please don't do that again. I can handle things here."

"You didn't introduce me, Holly," Clark said, and then to Doug, "I'm Clark, by the way." Clark tried to ease the tension with a smile as he held out his hand to Doug for a friendly shake.

"I just wanted to make sure that your house-sitting adventure was stress-free. So, did you have an answer for me?" Doug asked, completely ignoring Clark.

"Clark wanted to introduce himself to you," Holly said, temper rising.

"Who?" Doug said, annoyed, then to Clark, "How do you know my girl, Holly?"

"Your what?" Holly raised her voice, but only enough so that the neighbors wouldn't complain.

"How could you forget? Five o' clock at Billy J's Bar tonight!" Doug shouted cheerfully. Holly shushed him. She didn't want to lose any future prospects of house-sitting for her cousin by way of neighborly complaints.

"I said 'No,' didn't I?" Holly's voice stayed firm. Clark looked at Holly, then Doug.

"Psh. I know you. This is how it is with you women. You act coy and say 'no,' but you really mean 'yes.' What about all the times I've been nice to you? How I offered to help you out at school? I even kept Allison's package safe for her!" Doug proudly placed the box on the ground next to his feet.

"I didn't ask you to!" Holly stated, her low voice wavering.

"Unbelievable. I try my hardest to be nice and caring to you. Those times I walked you to your car at night? The lunches I've bought you? I'm even willing to pay for an amazing dinner and a movie for you!" Doug folded his arms in offense.

"I never asked you to do any of that! I don't want to date you! I told you, I have a boyfriend!" Holly couldn't contain her shouting anymore. Clark's brow raised; he cracked a smile.

"You have a boyfriend?" Doug scoffed, "Everyone knows that's a lie."

"Excuse me?!" Holly's fist clenched.

"I mean, I think you're pretty in a discreet sort of way, and it wouldn't kill you to wear makeup, but you're almost manlike in your assertiveness. Who would wanna date a mannish chick like you?"

"What?!" Holly took a step forward. Clark held his arm out in front of her to calm her down.

"It's a win-win if you date me. I actually care about you, and I can help you be more demure and ladylike, and in turn, make you actually attractive. I'll also motivate you out of your sloppily dressed ways and remind you to wear makeup more often—you need it. I like a challenge, and you, my dear, are a challenge I'd like to sink my teeth into." Doug's smugness permeated the air like his cheese-like musk.

"Who's sloppy, motherfucker?!" Holly took a sharp breath and stopped herself. Doug was not worth any of her emotions. She glanced at Clark, giving him an apologetic furrow of her brow. She grabbed onto his bulging bicep, then moved her arms securely around Clark's waist. Her eyes then turned to burn a hole through Doug's forehead. Clark upped the PDA and brought Holly in front of him, wrapping his arms tightly around her shoulders, his chin resting on the top of her head. Of course Mr. Perfect the Gym Salesman played along.

"This is my boyfriend." Holly's heart jumped to her throat. She felt sorry for bringing Clark into this mess with Doug, but that feeling was quickly overridden by how comfortable it felt being in his firm embrace. God, he smelled wonderful.