That’s right, we’ve managed to get an updated cover that shows more romance in the grand scheme of my erotic short story collection featuring menage tales and moresomes. Room for One More has been updated and a new story added to reflect my growing bisexual desires, plus revisit some old fantasies.
Six A handful of short erotic stories featuring threesomes of various orientations is packed into this collection using choice words designed to arouse, inspire and instigate erotic feeling and action.
I won’t lie, Lashway’s Lease was a personal fantasy of mine. Originally slated to be in Mistress Anna, the story didn’t make the cut due to word limitations. But it found a home here and online for a brief time back in the early 2000s on a few sites before resting in this collection as a favorite of many long time readers.
Here’s the first few thousand words to tease you…
By Sascha Illyvich
Sweat dripped her brow. She smoothed her skirt over her nylon-clad thighs. Slender legs led to fuck me pumps underneath a cream-colored business suit tailored to show off her every curve. She looked one last time in the mirror, tugging her brown curls. She tucked one behind her ear before walking out of the bathroom and down the hall towards Bruce Callahan’s office. Her nerves were fluttering butterflies in her stomach, but she had to do this. She needed a new place to live after next week.
Walking past the blonde secretary popping gum, Lindsey sashayed into Bruce’s office, still amazed that he’d amassed so much wealth in such a short period. His black leather chair sat against a large ocean view window behind a large lacquer desk. Two smaller chairs sat in front of his desk. The walls to her left and right were bare, except for a bookcase that had several file folders scattered about.
“I’d rather be out there,” Bruce turned to face her.
“Wow,” she let out a breath. His pale skin and hair were gorgeous. His clean-shaven face was even more handsome, his rugged chin and sea blue eyes, captivating. Realizing that she was already damp between her thighs, she stepped cautiously forward. Unsure, she stumbled over the plush carpet, tripping only to catch herself on the back of one of the black chairs.
Her cheeks flushed.
“You okay?” He leaned over his desk, offering her a hand.
His hand was huge compared to hers. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little tired. I was up late studying last night.” She smoothed her skirt again, fidgeting with the hem before sitting down.
“What can I do for you?”
Looking directly at him, she frowned hard. “Bruce, not even a hi? Or a hello short stuff?”
Bruce turned his head away from her.
Settling her hands on her hips, she pushed her shoulders back. “Do you hate me?”
An eyebrow rose. “What?”
“It’s a fair question, Bruce. You’ve avoided my phone calls, put me off, kept me away from your office and made me beg you to get this appointment. I practically had to cut class just to make it here.”
“I don’t hate you, Lindsey. You know better.”
“Then what’s the deal? I thought we were lovers.”
Lindsey put her hand over her mouth as soon as the words left her lips. “I’m sorry,” She leaned forward, even more heat rising. She was sure her cheeks were flustered now.
“I like your freckles.” he laughed.
Her lips formed a pout. “It’s not funny Bruce.”
“You’re right. It’s not. And we are lovers. Always.”
Crossing her legs, she watched Bruce stare open mouthed at her thighs.
His expression changed back to the same solemn face he’d worn when she first came into his office. “First, I know what you’re trying to do. It won’t work. Money and my sex drive are not the same.”
“Here’s to hoping that could change.” She winked and licked her lips. Bruce turned a computer monitor towards her.
Leaning farther over the desk, Lindsey nearly had to get out of her seat to see the tiny print on the screen. “Yeah. That’s my credit report.”
“That’s the report I pull for every prospective tenant before I even meet with them.”
“Yes. And that report looks clean.”
“It is. But you have very little credit history. For God’s sakes honey, you’re barely twenty-two years old. How much do you make an hour?”
“I’m in college and, wait. Why am I telling you this? You gave me that job at the coffee shop. You know where I work.” More sweat formed at her brow. She fanned herself with a hand.
He pointed to another figure on the monitor. “Your credit history isn’t very long. Running some numbers in another program I use,” he turned to the keyboard. Another program came into view showing things like income to debt ratio, average risks and other numbers Lindsey wasn’t familiar with.
He smirked. “You’re too high a risk.”
Her frown deepened. “Damnit Bruce, you can’t just do me this one favor?”
“Look Lindsey, you know how much I love you, but I can’t predict the future. What if a tidal wave comes and wipes out the island. What if you lose this job and can’t find another one, or you do and it’s closer to Houston. Then what? I lose my passive income. Besides, you don’t want to live out here while they’re developing. Prices are skyrocketing as it is. How are you going to expect to afford to stay here with an average rent increase of five percent a year?”
Lindsey shrugged her shoulders and slumped back in the chair. Looking at Bruce made her hate her body for betraying her by getting wetter. She hated her predicament too. It wasn’t her fault for being born almost eight years after him.
Her nipples tightened into little buds beneath her white blouse. Her body ached for him to touch her. The pool of liquid at her thighs seemed to be trickling down her leg.
“I’ll give you that date you’ve always wanted.”
Bruce glared at her.
Her lips curled upwards in a smile. “I’ll get that cute guy to come with us.”
Bruce’s eyes widened. “You know that I know better.”
“Yeah,” she sighed. “I guess you’re right. I’m sorry to have bothered you, Bruce.”
“No trouble, babe. Bother me any time you want. Just don’t come looking for a place to rent from me until you’ve got a better paying job.”
Standing, Lindsey ran her hands down her skirt, smoothing it over her sticky thighs. Walking around the desk, she hugged Bruce, despite feeling upset at him. His large body enveloped her, making her feel safe, protected and loved. Beads of sweat slid down her brow. “It’s hot in here.”
“It’s just you, doll.” Bruce smiled.
With her body molded to his, she felt how aroused Bruce was. “You’re so tiny,” Bruce pointed out, shifting his weight so that she slid between his powerful thighs.
She glared at him. “Don’t remind me, you shit.”
Bruce’s arms slipped away from her. He turned, hiding a smile. “Get that grin off your face, damnit!”
The truth was, she wanted him. Bruce was so busy working all the time that he didn’t realize when Lindsey was sending him signals.
How many times had she lay awake at night and finger fucked herself to an unsatisfying orgasm? How many nights had she spent, covered in sweat thinking about Bruce’s soft touch and hard thighs?
Too many to count.
Sighing heavily, Lindsey spun around, her curly hair whipping around in her face. Brushing away the lose strands, she parted her lips to speak.
“What?” Bruce had returned to his chair.
“I’ll give you a call in a day or so, all right?”
“Yes. Pleas do.”
Turning, Lindsey sashayed out of his office, shaking her hips with each step. Bruce didn’t seem to notice.
The sun was blinded her when she walked outside. Lindsey slipped on a pair of shades. It was too humid outside. Bruce was right; she didn’t want to live on the island. Galveston’s weather fluctuated from hot to worse and made her hair curl tighter. She shouldn’t be sweating profusely after seeing Bruce. He was hot, all of 6’1 and hard in all the right places.
Of course, it was July in Texas. That could explain the heat.
Arriving at her car, she put the key in the ignition and slammed her hands on the steering wheel. Lindsey adjusted herself and the sticky vinyl creaked beneath her. Unsatisfied, frustrated and wet as a river between her thighs, she picked up her cell phone.
“Hello? Yeah, Lane? Lindsey here. I need a favor.”