Available now from Loose Id

Pairing: m/f, m/f/m+

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This one is a fun (I hope) romp, pure and simple. I had the idea and much of it written pre-Dark Elves I: Taken and thought it was a neat enough idea to resurrect.

Sorry, no m/m in this one. But… the cps saw a possible connection so maybe there’ll be a follow up story.

BLURB:

Alex dumped her and Jen’s not sure why. Okay, he’d been her first, but she thought she’d done rather well, sexually speaking. Why did he all of a sudden tell her that it wasn’t working out? What was wrong with her?

Ken, Bart, Davey and Jason—her best friends—all try to convince her there’s nothing wrong with her. In fact they seek to prove it to her… by first-hand example. That’s all well and good until Jen starts to freak about that. She’s sleeping with her best friends. What’s up with that?

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© 2008 Jet Mykles, all rights reserved

We were laughing when we got back to my place.

I wore a terribly feminine flowered dress with a full skirt and a low neckline. Strangely, I actually liked the damn thing. It was long enough that I didn’t have to wear pantyhose — ugh, I never did get those things! — and it set off my new sandals nicely.

“I’m telling you, we should have gone in,” said Bart again, carrying bags toward my room.

I laughed harder. The whole day, Bart had been intent on playing my doting boyfriend. He’d gone to extremes, insisting on feeling me up in every dress that I tried on, much to the amazement of the wide-eyed store clerks. When he’d first cupped my ass in his large hand, I’d almost decked him, but I let it go. What the hell? We were having fun, right? And besides, it felt good. When I’d played along, he’d only gone further until, at the last shop, he wanted to follow me into the dressing room to see me try on the garters and stockings he’d insisted that I needed.

“It would have been great. Think of their reaction.”

My laughter subsided, but I was still amused. It would have been funny, but I’d stopped him. Dresses were one thing. Garters were another thing entirely. I didn’t think I was ready to go that far. Besides, even if I’d been laughing, it had been kind of embarrassing to be watched like that. It was probably normal for Bart, but I wasn’t used to being the object of attention, as I’d been all afternoon. It was exhausting!

We took the bags into my room. Despite it all, half of the purchases were actually made by me. I hadn’t let him buy me that much, against his protests.

He set the paper and plastic down on the floor by the closet. “Y’know, Jen, that really does look good on you.”

I smiled, examining my reflection in the large mirror above my dresser, smoothing my hands over the red and white roses that twined with green vines, lingering just seconds on my breasts. The scoop neck did terrific things for my cleavage, and the new push-up bra didn’t hurt any. “Thanks. I guess there’s something for dresses after all. Sometimes. But not the makeup!” I shuddered dramatically, reaching up to toss my loose hair back.

“Why not?” He laughed. “I’m told it can do wonders for your self-esteem.”

I grimaced. “Yeah, well, it’s nasty. Besides, it’s too much work to learn to do it right.” A part of me envied women who could, but it just wasn’t for me.

He stepped into view in the mirror, right behind me. He put his hands on my hips. Then his eyes met mine in the mirror.

I froze.

He didn’t. “Care to let me show you how much a man can appreciate a figure like this?” Oh, man, had his voice ever sounded that sexy before? If so, I’d missed it.

Whoa, wait! “What are you offering?” I asked, grinning feebly, trying to make light of this. I started to twist away from him.

He didn’t let me, holding firm on my hips, reflected eyes locked on mine. “I’m not joking, Jen. You look incredible.”

My smile died. “Bart, stop,” I said, trying to sound cold. The tremor in my voice ruined the effect.

“Can’t.” His fingers gently kneaded the flesh at my waist, reminding me they were there. Yeah, like I needed a reminder. “I know you don’t think of me like a boyfriend. I know we’d be awful as a couple, but” — one hand slid up to spread flat just under my navel — “I’d dearly love to make love to you.”

Ah, shit, he’d said the words. He’d said them softly. He hadn’t been joking. He hadn’t cursed. He hadn’t done any of the things that I knew to be safe between a man and a woman who were just friends.
And, damn it, his eyes and hands were burning me. Squirming worms manifested in my belly as he looked for permission to go on.

“We’re friends,” I said, feeling like a deer caught in headlights. The fabric of the dress was too sheer. I could feel the heat of his palm just inches above my sex. I should move that. Yeah. I’d do that in a second…

“Nothing needs to change, sweets,” he assured me softly, leaning in to brush the lightest of kisses on my shoulder, almost where it met my neck. Sweets. I recognized that. That’s what he called his girls. “We’ll still be friends.” Another kiss, a little more pressure. “But we could have a hell of a time this afternoon.”

The kiss felt too good. My head tipped to the side, giving him room to trail more of them up my neck. I’ll confess, I had sometimes wondered what it was like to sleep with the big man. Not seriously, but it had occurred to me in isolated moments. His bevy of girlfriends had seemed to enjoy him, after all.

“Fuck,” I muttered, closing my eyes.