They Came Together

He liked her stories. She had a nice clean style, moved the story along, had a nice feel for the language. Her writing said smart. Her women had passion. He liked smart. He loved women. He was moved by passion.

His lifestyle had been admired by many. His resume was long and varied. He had acted and modeled for jeans (good ass). He had been an entertainment producer/director, and had done almost everything in the business; events, sports, commercials, live television, music videos, films, documentaries, etc. He was a published writer under pen names. He had traveled extensively. He'd had a lot of fun.

He was 50, single, had done very well, and now only worked on what he found interesting. For the last few years his projects had become more and more sensual.

His agent Lana from the Left Coast had called, saying, "Remember 'Red Shoe Diaries? We want to do a similar show. Money is good. Hell, it's great. Very soft core porn for cable. It's got to be very expensive looking. We want the money to show on screen. You're their first choice."

"How is the production budget? Erotic is tough to do well, and I don't work cheap."

"Baby, I know. You do this, you write the budget. Spend what you want. The money is Saudi; they looked at that film you shot last year and came in their Armani's. Hell, that is the sexiest thing I've ever seen. I have a copy at home, and I watch it and fuck myself every night. Speaking of which, when are you coming out to see me? I miss you. When are you going to stop hiding in Texas and come back to work?"

"I'll come when I can. Send me the numbers, and I'll see."

The numbers were very good; the project looked interesting. Once he said yes, the deal was easy to get done. Thirteen episodes, roughly thirty minutes each including bumpers, credits, etc. Original content, original music, big budget for talent and production, all options and residuals in his favor. Lana could cut a very good deal, especially dealing with men. They took one look at her, and were dying to sign that dotted line.

Doing this series meant producing 13 short movies. He liked the challenge. He liked working with young unspoiled talent, where he didn't have to deal with agents and other pains in the neck.

He especially liked working with women.

First, he needed writers. Thirteen original screenplays were too much for him to do alone. All thirteen would have his imprint and style, but be written by someone else while he advised and approved.

Which brings us back to her stories...

***

My stories? They started as a dare and if you had told me two years ago I would be writing erotic fiction, I would have laughed in your face. I always thought of myself as slightly naive, a small town girl living in a big city. Don't get me wrong... when I say naive I don't mean innocent. There had been men in my life but I liked making love not having sex so my lovers invariably meant something to me. I tripped through life; merrily stumbling on; oblivious to how easily I could get hurt. You see I lead with my heart and not my head and sooner or later it was bound to happen.

I fell in love... I really fell in love. For months I ignored the warning signs and when he asked me to marry him of course I said yes. I was still dreaming orange blossoms, white picket fences, and babies. He was finding out how many women he could screw on the side without me getting wise to him. It was the old story, I was the last to know. There was the initial shock, the intense hurt that I wasn't woman enough for him. That turned quickly to anger and the showdown when it came was quick and fast, culminating with me hitting him so hard he fell back against the wall. By the way, did I tell you I have a temper?

Slowly my heart started to harden, I had been betrayed. Man was the enemy and I wanted to punish. I came upon the adult chat site through some quirk of fate. I teetered back and forth, after all I was a good girl... wasn't I? I finally got up my courage, made up some ridiculous name and went into chat. As my confidence returned I began to flirt... a new girl was fresh meat and there were men all over. I thought this was great, sex without consequences. Oh sure it wasn't real but I didn't want real, I wanted to heal. In my bitterness I used men, tossing them aside like discarded Kleenex. I said "sex without consequences" didn't I? Hell, in life everything you do has a consequence. I slowly changed, I became the girl I used to be. That brought a few bittersweet online love affairs but it also brought new friends.

I also was introduced to a side of me I never knew. A dormant side of me emerged, I felt erotic, sensuous, beautiful. That's where the stories came in. Like I said, a friend in chat dared me to write a story. In two days I whipped up a sappy little story that wound up with the mandatory sex scene. I submitted it and to my astonishment they took it. It became addictive and being the perfectionist I am, I wanted to improve. Each story I learned more, I tried new things and I think I grew. Where I go from here, I have no idea but I intend to have fun finding out.

***

Her stories were good. They had a sense of romance and underlying passion.

Finding writers was tough. Not many could write well enough to maintain interest, create decent dialogue, and hardest of all, write with some heat. You needed a lot more than dick, dick, oh baby, dick. Or it's lesbian equivalent.

This project needed a writer with a feel for romance. It would be thirteen stories of seduction

One of the reason he liked doing it this way was the chance to be Opportunity Knocking. For somebody, he was going to be the Publishers Clearinghouse Sweepstakes. But blindly handling opportunity is very tricky.

He found some web sites. He went through a bunch of stories. Tried the web site hot lists, scanned stories, etc. Most of the stories, charitably, smelled. Several seemed to be written by people in serious need of psychiatric care.

He found five authors whose work was very promising. He corresponded and complimented them on their work, and waited to see the response. Of course, none of them knew there was potential $$$.

He needed to quickly decide if they shared a rapport with him. If there wasn’t there was any point in continuing. They couldn’t work together.

This part was tricky. He couldn’t say, "Here’s $50,000. Write me a script." Who knew who was on the other end? This was part of what he found interesting.

Could be a 16- year old kid with bad acne who lived on their PC, a mental case, a bed wetter, a convict. Could be a new Faulkner. Who knew?

He had to start a dialogue, see how well they corresponded, and try to gauge their ability, competence, reliability, maturity, level of interest, experience, and sanity. Most of all, how much did they like doing this kind of writing? Could they handle the job?

#One was too cold in response.

#Two never replied.

# Three replied very aggressively, was very smart, a good writer, great passion on the page, easy to communicate with; she almost immediately surprised him with a picture of her very voluptuous breasts. Certainly a very nice ice breaker.

That moved the conversation along nicely. It quickly became an erotic flirtation. She had his full interest. Every morning he woke up to receive an erotic message from her. She could really write hot. Every morning it was about her and him entangled in a wild scene.

This went on for a couple of weeks, when she abruptly said she had told her fianceé about her long distance involvement with him. He had become a fixation with her; but her fianceé was a violent man and insanely jealous; and she had to break it off with him.

Difficult to mix fantasy with reality.

#Four was Close, but No Cigar.

Which brings us to # Five;

Her...

***

My writing became a learning experience, a chance to find out what I had. I wrote... story after story. I read all I could about writing and writing well. I poured over books looking for dialogue and how it was used. I soon realized there were as many opinions on how to write as there were styles. My stories invariably were erotic couplings(the romantic in me) but I tried voyeurism and non- consent too.

Slowly I built a small following, a group who actually looked for my stories. Oh sure some were friends but with each story I seemed to pick up more readers. And I got feedback, the best part of writing. It was an assorted mix... a few picked my stories apart with a fine tooth comb. Every perceived error was brought to my attention but it was done in such a way that I listened... and I learned. There was the guy who gave me backhanded compliments. The guy who described his dick in vivid detail. The guys who told me they were hard or that they came as they read my stories. The guys who wanted my phone number, my picture, my messenger. Surprisingly I got very few slams but there was "anonymous" who said my latest story was a piece of crap. I answered everyone that left their e-mail, I appreciated that they took the time to read my story out of the hundreds on the site.

Then his feedback started showing up. The first few were nice, simple, and straight to the point. "I liked your story, very hot, etc." I replied, thanking him and saying I hoped he'd return. Return he did, he read a few more, his feedback was charming and clever. He started adding little comments after every feedback, invariably about heels. I watched and waited for his feedback, a kind of a fix if you know what I mean. Some feedback just makes your day and his made me smile.

Now I'm thinking how to keep his interest? Heels of course! I thought up scenarios... heels in the tub? Heels on a motorcycle? Heels on a safari? Okay I was being ridiculous, but you get my drift. The ball was in my court and I intended to run with it... but would he follow?

She was intriguing. She was smart. There was a nice touch to her writing. She could take her time with a story, so she had confidence. She could write heat. He looked at her stories chronologically. Her writing was getting better.

As her writing improved, her women got bolder. They were more aggressive. They knew what they wanted. They dressed sexier. Hell, they were sexier. They enjoyed it more. They were better drawn characters. You could start to feel them.

She was using more of the little touches he enjoyed in his real life, like women dressing in a thong, thigh high stockings, and heels. He’d always been a high heel man. All men were; most just wouldn’t admit it. He was long past hiding his desires.

He checked her site, and for a picture she had used a lighthouse, a beacon. In another location she had used a Vargas girl, and a line from a Nat King Cole song. It was surprising that she even knew who the great Nat was, much less know his music. It showed a certain Style...

She described herself as mid 20’s, 5’7", blonde.

She responded to his feedback, which was considerate. She knew how to take a compliment. They began to correspond. She was clever and warm. The more they corresponded, the more intrigued he became.

He was beginning to think about her as a woman. He was starting to wonder, did she have the passion in her that she was giving her female characters?

I began to think of an angle, a way to keep him on my line. I needed to bait my hook and the best way was to write and e-mail him a little scenario. I knew his name was Jeff, tall, salt and pepper hair, older, and definitely into stockings and heels. The story was the old gambit... boss and secretary. Now I had to make it worth reading...

***

Kara had a dilemma, she wanted her boss. It was starting to affect her work, constant daydreaming tends to do that. She tried to understand... why now? I mean she had been his personal secretary for three years and now she realized she was in lust. In love was a phrase with major connotations, this may be pure animal lust. She had always tried to be the perfect secretary, efficient but inconspicuous. She scheduled his appointments, typed his letters, even made his coffee and did it competently.

When did it change? When did he become a man and not her boss? She thought it started that night at the symphony. She never moved in his circles... after all she lived on a secretary's salary. That night had been an unexpected treat, one of her friends had invited her. In the lobby she had been so excited, this was a welcome change from her boring nights in front of the television.

That was when Kara saw him, he was chatting animatedly with a gorgeous brunette who seemed to be attached to his arm. Kara shrunk back, trying to slink into the shadows. Too late... he had seen her and with a wide smile he moved through the crowd, brunette in tow.

"Kara," he exclaimed. "How wonderful to see you here."

Feeling incredibly gauche Kara smiled and said, "Thank you Mr. James. I'm here with a friend, she'll be right back."

"Well you look lovely and I hope you have a wonderful night."

Kara watched as the brunette ran her fingernail up his arm. It looked more like a claw she thought cattily and if she was any closer they would be Siamese twins. As they moved away Kara got the shock of her life... she was jealous!

From that moment on her perception of him changed. She noticed everything about him, every nuance and mannerism. She noticed things she never had before; the smell of his cologne; the fit of his suits; his salt and pepper hair. If he came near, she felt herself trembling, blushing furiously. As the weeks went by her infatuation turned to out and out lust. She wanted him... she wanted to tear his clothes off and spend the night learning his body.

She battled with herself; there was one big problem. If she made her feelings known would he embrace them? And if he did, would he use her and fire her? After all their relationship would be changed irrevocably. She slept on it a few nights and then her chance came... should she take it?

***

There I had written that much, I would send it to Jeff and wait for his reaction. I wanted him to urge me to go on, to tantalize and tease him. I watched my e-mail and waited...

***

He was usually pretty quick on the uptake, but it took him a few minutes to realize that he was the male character in her new story.

"This is interesting …" he mused. She was perceptive. Had he told her about his symphony tickets? Her brunette sounded a great deal like one of his frequent dates. Actually, she sounded like more than one. Had she gotten that from their correspondence? If she had, she was really sharp.

And Kara … was that her? It was a female character with more passion and fire than he had seen in her writing. And it was the first time he had seen her use one of his favorite words (and concepts): lust. His successes in life had been fueled by his passion. And lust is the need that fuels passion.

Ho loved both.

She was creating Kara with lust and passion. And she got it in on page one. A good sign of things to come?

He wrote back … "I love the beginning of your new story. Thanks for sharing it with me. These two have the potential for fireworks. What happens next?"

***

It didn't take long for an answer, I had a feeling it wouldn't. Now to really knock his socks off...

***

Kara's chance came on a dismal, rainy day. She was in her usual work mode lately, working by rote. Her mind was elsewhere, where it was all the time now. She started as she looked up... when had Mr. James came into the room? She chided herself, she must keep her mind on business.

"Kara? The Miller account I'm working on needs revisions. I'm afraid it's gonna mean some late nights for both of us. I hope you aren't busy tonight, I really could use you."

"No, I'm just going home to the tv and the cat," she said with a slight tremor in her voice. "I'm free to help you."

He smiled, that brilliant smile showing impossibly white teeth, "Great! Take the afternoon off and be back here about six. Don't worry about dinner... we'll order out."

So it was all set and Kara realized here was her chance. She paced her tiny apartment, her mind in a whirl. Could she do this? Could she seduce her boss? What if he rejected her? The thought made her wince. No, she couldn't do it. Nevertheless, she found herself making plans. A long bubble bath, that form-fitting dress she'd bought and had never worn, the expensive perfume her parents gave her for Christmas last year.

Six o'clock found her in her office, the debate still raging in her head. Was she going to did this or not? Think Kara; use your womanly wiles as they say. It was now or never and taking a deep breath she knocked on his office door.

Opening the door quietly she walked in and leaned on it. Jeff(she thought of him that way) was busy writing, he never looked up as he said distractedly, "Come sit Kara, I'll be right with you."

Moving to the desk she set the basket she had on his desk. He looked up in surprise and exclaimed, "What's this?"

"I decided to bring dinner," Kara explained. "Are you hungry?"

"Starved. I worked through lunch."

Kara smiled, "Great! I have antipasto, hard rolls and wine. Sound okay?"

He shook his head yes, a quizzical look in his eyes. He watched silently as she set out the meal, uncorking the wine at her suggestion. She had bought the antipasto at a deli and she passed him a fork as she took the top off. They ate in silence for a few minutes and Kara found herself under scrutiny.

Taking the bull by the horns(so to speak), Kara decided to up the ante. On the pretext of pouring herself more wine she bent over the desk. Jeff's nose was almost in her cleavage and she heard him catch his breath. At that moment Kara had never felt so sensual, so sure of herself. She was no longer the virtuous secretary, she was a wanton slut.

“Kara?” He asked. “Are you okay?”

It was now or never. Seductively she drew back, her voice was hoarse with passion. " Do you have any idea what I dream of Jeff? What occupies my thoughts on a long, lonely night? I dream of my mouth wrapped around your cock. I dream of you fucking me."

Kara was getting bolder, daring to say and do more. Moving around his desk she sat on his lap. She looked in his eyes, clear and blue and she was lost. Their first kiss was long, slow and sensuous. Kara felt the fire igniting in her blood and as his hands traveled to her breasts she stood quickly and stepped back.

" I'm going to seduce you," she said in a throaty voice. "Do you like my dress?" Standing, she did a model's turn letting him see how the blue jersey dress hugged every curve.

"Oh yes," he said, his voice equally thick.

Undoing the button at the back she pulled the dress over her head and tossed it aside. She thrilled at the look of raw, unadulterated lust in his eyes. She stood quietly in front of him, and lifting her arms she let her blonde hair out of its' clip. She ran her hands up the sides of her body and cupped her breasts in the scanty blue bra. Slowly she turned again which afforded him a view of her ass, her blue thong scarcely covering her. A garter belt and black stockings completed the picture along with her spiked heels.

She moved back on his lap as his hand trailed up her leg. Her fingers shook as she unbuttoned his shirt, opening it to her mouth and fingers. Her tongue moved on his nipples as her hands explored his chest, reveling in the soft hair that covered it.

Jeff brought her face up, "Kara, why now? Why me?"

Burying her face in his neck she murmured, "I don't know, I can't explain. I only know I want you now."

Kara kneeled between his legs and undid his pants, her fingers brushing against the lump in his crotch. He lifted and she pulled pants and boxers to his ankles. His cock sprung free and she wrapped her fingers around the shaft. She heard his indrawn breath as she kissed the head. Slowly she started to jerk him as she alternated between small kisses and licks across the tip. She let her tongue travel around the head as she used her other hand to caress his balls.