Author’s Note: I’m just on a roll with these sneak peeks, huh?
As mentioned on the Facebook page, I’m working on a Christmas story that will be released sometime next month. It’s a shorty, about 10K words. But hopefully, it’ll tie you over a little as I work on S&M III. The free story I’m working on will be done within the next week or two.
I love it when a plan comes together.
Her life was a façade, LaTonya Jacobson concluded one day as she researched vibrators and dildos. She fooled a lot of people in her life. No one quite knew her identity other than she was Black. She had received plenty of guesses, though. Someone described her as having long, ebony hair, thin but buxom like Dorothy Dandridge or today’s Beyonce. Another guess had her being an older woman with years of sexual experience and knowledge. Well, LaTonya did have years of sexual experience and knowledge but probably too much at her young age of 27. Her number of sexual partners had long surpassed two hands.
LaTonya smiled as she read some of the replies. She looked nothing like the guesses. Not even remotely close. If someone guessed she looked like a Black hipster nerd with curly brown hair and wore leopard print frames, they would be on the money.
She was full-figured – in her mind that was the politically correct term of telling a woman she’s fat – at a size 14. She kept to herself and prided on making sure people didn’t quite know exactly what was going on with her. The less people knew, the less bullshit and drama she had to deal with.
Online was her home away from home. She was a freelance writer who often did projects for separate websites and magazines. But her bread and butter was Aurora, her alter-ego. Aurora gave sex advice, maintained a blog, and was a proud reviewer of over 100 sex toys and counting. Aurora had many friends and fans. Aurora was a goddess. Aurora made LaTonya a lot of money every month.
Aurora was the person LaTonya wished she could be in real life. Oh to be so carefree and bitchy.
“Oh yes…oh…that’s it, Evan…” The tell-tale knocking of a headboard on the other side of the wall momentarily broke LaTonya’s concentration. She completely forgot her roommate’s boyfriend was staying over, though it was very clear he was not going to sleep. Neither was LaTonya for that matter.
She put her headphones on and blasted her iPod as she continued to research. She had to review a new sex toy and she was starting to get drained from them. They all promised the same thing. They all guaranteed exquisite pleasure. All of them, despite how shiny and new, were not real cocks. No matter how good and life-like a dildo claimed to be, it was nothing compared to the real thing. The real thing, LaTonya reminisced, boy, do I need to get laid. It’s been about…wait a minute…
Had it really been that long? LaTonya looked up from the computer screen and counted on her fingers.
“Wait, is that even possible?” The timeframe was even a shock to her. She thought back to the last time she had and was saddened to realize it wasn’t even a good lay. Yep, it’s been that long. Eight months. Not even a glorious eight. She became more depressed when she realized the last time she’s had good sex was even longer.
It wasn’t lack of choices or opportunities; LaTonya lost interest in trying to get some. If she wanted to, she could join one of those booty-call advertisements she had seen on late-night TV and would have a revolving door of men at the rented townhouse her and Irina shared. Instead, she chose another approach: the safest (and sometimes best if she were toot her own horn) was with herself.
The headboard knocking grew increasing faster and completely stopped. LaTonya looked at the time on her iPhone. Not even 10 minutes. She wasn’t sure to feel sorry for her roommate or laugh. She then thought about the length of time it took her to get off and LaTonya stifled her chuckle. Maybe Evan knew what he was doing and didn’t want to postpone the inevitable.
LaTonya became frustrated. How was it possible to be both horny and jealous at the same time? She put away her laptop and pulled out one of her many toys. It was a seven-inch dildo whose name changed on a regular basis depending on what celebrity crush she thought about that night. “Let’s see…are you Bradley Cooper?” She examined her dildo. “Oh, are you John Cena? I think you might be John tonight.”
She put a condom on it and went to work. She moved it inside her, slow at first but quicker with each passing stroke. Within minutes, she came all over her toy and had to bite a pillow to relieve her frustrations.
She suddenly wasn’t jealous of what her roommate and her boyfriend were doing.