Annie, My Girl
It had been more than three months since she had broken up with the guy with whom she thought she'd spend her life.
"Pig!" Anne hissed in the bathroom mirror, remembering his macho dumb ass ways of lording it over her when the mood struck - which had been once too often, if you ask me, which you didn't, telling you anyway, fuck you very much.
"I need a man in my life like a fish needs a bicycle," she muttered the expression she saw on a feminist web site. "I need a man like... I wouldn't mind some mind boggling sex," she sighed, tired of her trusty vibrator and talented fingers.
Remember how he spanked you? her conscience nudged, making her rub her butt.
"Yeah, I remember," she said softly. "In the beginning, it was nice - sensuous, made me tingle in all the right places. Later, it was pure punishment, when he..." she pushed the memory away.
Are you going to accept that blind date with Loren's friend?
"Don't know. Jury's still out on that one but I *am* going to take in a baseball game this afternoon."
"Looks like a three-two pitch," a deep voice said as the big man took a seat next to her.
"Uh-huh," she agreed, eyeing the muscled thigh, moving over a seat to give him a little more room, watching the batter bang the bat on the ground a few times and spit. She chuckled when her gaze moved to the pitcher. "Talk about superstition!" she snorted. "If he'd just go ahead and scratch his balls, he could toss that pitch and get it over with."
The big man laughed. "That's half the fun of watching the game. Each ball player has his own quirks."
"All men have quirks," she grimaced.
"We do?" he asked, laughter in his voice, openly admiring her trim form.
"Uh-huh," she replied, then responding to his deep voice, turned and eyed him for the first time.
The stadium faded for a moment - green eyes locked with brown - then a small giggle escaped between her lips. "Was that a Hallmark moment?" she smiled, her eyes returning to the game.
"Could have been," he smiled back. "Shall we go somewhere and find out if there's other parts of us we like?"
She resented the remark and the insinuation that she would jump at the chance to be more intimate with a perfect stranger. True, he was very handsome but that didn't mean she was attracted to him in *that* way - which was a lie - because she really was attracted to him in *that* way - damn his handsome, arrogant hide.
Standing, she stretched her body to its full height, a not-so-intimidating five feet, four and a half inches and crossed her arms over her chest. "You are free to sit somewhere else," she lectured sternly, her green eyes flashing, turning darker with anger. You need a man like a fish needs a... her conscience nudged.
He stood, stretched his body to his full height, all six feet, four and a half inches of him and crossed his heavily muscled arms over his chest. "I like it here," he said calmly, but firmly, arching a brow.
"Pig," she snorted under her breath, moving two more seats away from him and out of his line of fire.
"I know a rude little girl who could use a spanking," he said softly as he returned to his seat.
"Bully for you," she snorted, not the least bit intimidated by his size. The bigger they are, the harder they fall... she thought, wondering if her knee could reach as high as his crotch and do serious damage if the need should arise.
"Keep it up and you're going over my knee, brat," he said ominously as if they knew each other well enough to allow this intimacy.
"Hey!" she hissed, taking the few steps back to stand in front of him.
"If you're that desperate to get laid, go elsewhere. You don't appeal to me and you're about as charming as a..."
At the speed of Mach 1 - on second thought, Mach 2 - she was wrapped in two strong arms, her ample breasts crushed against his chest and his mouth devouring hers. His tongue didn't ask permission, just pushed between her lips and took what it wanted, exploring, tasting sweetness, and staking a claim. Just when she thought she'd pass out from a lack of oxygen, he gave her his breath and eased the kiss into a gentler one.
When he let her up for air, his grin was wolfish and all she could do was stare. "You... you...!" she sputtered.
"Me... me..," he chuckled and landed one hard swat on her behind. "That's for being a brat," he said with no remorse, no apology. "Have dinner with me?" he asked as if they had been formally introduced and his hand hadn't harshly connected with her butt.
Her arm drew back to slap him but he caught her wrist before it could land on his face. "That definitely deserves another spank," he grinned, landing another hard one on her butt, so hard that tears sprang to her eyes.
"Don't cry, sweetness. I'll kiss it and make it better."
She gasped, astounded at his audacity, but was caught once again in his embrace as he covered her mouth with his. He found it sweet again and prolonged the kiss.
"You are a despicable son-of-a-bitch!" she hissed when she could breathe.
"I know," he agreed, his thumb stroking the silk of her cheek. "What time should I pick you up?"
He laughed softly when she grabbed her things and raced away from him, fear and excitement fueling her flight.
She barely made it home without wrecking the car, her temper hotter than a two-dollar pistol, and cursing the pig of a man who had assaulted her.
Kissed you, too, her conscience sighed. He was a *good* kisser, doncha' think?
"I think I'll seriously consider a frontal lobotomy if you don't shut up," she muttered to herself - no one else around to hear her rambling - which was a good thing - since it was obvious she was arguing with herself and losing the fight. Go figure.
She sighed. Some days it just didn't pay to get out of bed.
"Men are such pigs!" she yelled by way of greeting when she opened her door, her cat from hell hissing at her tone. "What?" she hissed back. It arched its back and spit at her.
"Sorry," she cooed contritely, picking him up for a quick snuggle. "I didn't mean to yell at you, Attila, my Hun. But you *are* male... What is up with you guys, anyway? Can't a girl enjoy a baseball game without being assaulted by the likes of you?"
None of the words she used were ones the cat wanted to hear, so it ignored her rant like the male it was. Well-fed and spoiled, the black cat jumped out of her arms and made itself comfortable on the kitchen counter where he didn't belong. Exposing his belly, he proceeded to wash his body in front of her eyes, starting with his male parts. She stared at him in total disbelief. "It's a conspiracy," she snorted.
"Sorry, Loren," she told her pal when she called. "I won't be able to make that dinner party tomorrow night. I think you'd better find someone else for your friend."
"You owe me, Annie," Loren pouted. "I want payback - tomorrow night!"
"Okay, okay, don't get your knickers in a knot. I'll be there. Jeans?" she asked hopefully.
"Wear that little black dress you just bought, the one with the spaghetti straps. I think Jake will find that very sexy. He's such a virile man."
The hell I will, Anne thought, having had enough of one particular virile man that afternoon.
"Tim will pick you up at 8pm."
"Your husband doesn't have to give me a ride," she protested. "I'm capable of driving myself."
"You had too much wine last time, remember? I don't want you driving, just in case."
She spent the better part of the next morning trying on and rejecting clothes. The Annie Hall look was a little dated, the Audrey Hepburn look really not her style. She considered a dressy sweater with a denim skirt but her boots were much too scruffy. And then she remembered that other black dress, the one her former lover didn't like at all.
"YES! I love that dress!" She rushed to try it on. It was perfect - a form fitting, floor-length turtleneck sweater dress - sleeveless - no shoulders - just the turtleneck collar. The dress hugged her voluptuous curves. "Every one of them," she said with glee, hoping the blind date was really virile and sexy and desperately horny 'cause at the moment she hated all men and had every intention of ignoring him.
She fluffed her red hair into a page-boy. "Yes, that should do it. I'll just add a pair of three-inch FM, strappy sandals, a drop of gardenia cologne and I'm there."
Bra line's gonna show, her conscience noted. Don't wear one.
"I won't," she decided, her breasts nice and round and firm enough to go without support.
And the pantie line?
"Won't wear those either, just some hip hose."
You could wear a thong...
"Nope. Going free as a breeze," she smiled, pleased with her attire.
Tim picked her up on time, blind to any other women but Loren and mumbled that she looked nice without ever looking at her.
"Tell me about Jake," she asked, used to Tim's blinders.
"Big guy... really nice... has his own security firm... good looking..."
"So how come he's not married?" she asked skeptically.
"Wife died about four-five years ago. Just getting back into the dating scene. He's particular and Loren thought he'd particularly like you."
"Cute, Tim," she rolled her eyes.
He spotted her the moment she walked into the room, her beautiful red hair down instead of in a ponytail, her face made up. She was far more beautiful than she had been at the game. He eyed her curves and arched a brow, his cock twitching at the sight of her. Her dress left nothing to the imagination, erect nipples pushing against the fabric of her dress, the curve of her mound almost visible as she walked. His hands itched to touch her.
Jake Taylor was a careful man. In his business, he had to be. When his sister's old college roommate, Loren, wanted to fix him up, he agreed. But he wanted to know who she was before they met. A careful security check gave him all the facts he needed to know. He had watched her apartment building off and on for several days and followed her to the ball game. He liked what he saw and was tickled she hadn't fallen into his arms without a second thought. He was going to enjoy meeting her - formally.
"Come meet Jake," Loren smiled, pulling Anne across the room.
"Jake," she called as they approached. "This is my good friend, Anne Ingram. Anne, this is Jake."
Green eyes locked on brown ones and narrowed - time froze. It was definitely *not* a Hallmark moment. Jake grinned, extending his hand at the angry beauty standing before him. Anne's breath escaped in a hiss, eyes blazing, but took the proffered hand.
"A pleasure to meet you, Annie," he said, controlling his mirth.
"Unfortunately, it's not mutual, you sad, sorry, son-of-a-bitch," she smiled as she extended her hand and dug her nails into his palm as unobtrusively as she could. "And it's not Annie, it's Anne."
Loren, the chicken, disappeared, well aware of the unresolved sexual tension in the air. (Who knew chickens could decipher the scent of arousal?)
"Tsk," he clucked his tongue. "I believe you're due another spanking soon."
"Fucker," she hissed under her breath, turning away from him.
"Any minute, now," he whispered in her ear, pulling her to his side and escorting... pushing... her to a more secluded corner of the room.
"How dare you!" she hissed again.
"Very easily," he grinned, an arm around her waist, holding her in place. "You look very beautiful this evening," he murmured, his lips brushing her temple, inhaling her scent. "You smell good, too."
"Let go of me!"
"Not yet," he smiled into angry green eyes. "You need to be spanked and I intend to do it properly."
"You lay another hand on me... like you did yesterday... and I..."
"You'll kiss me back, this time?" he grinned.
"Oh, I'll do more than that," she promised.