Torn
Published by Pretty Things Press at Smashwords
ISBN 1-57612-309-X
Entire contents copyright © 2010 by Jax Baynard, Sommer Marsden, Thomas Roche, Alison Tyler, Sophia Valenti
Photo copyright © 2010 by Riendo
All rights reserved. Except for brief passages quoted in newspaper, magazine, radio, or television reviews, no part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying or recording, or by information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
These erotic short stories are works of fiction, and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
This book contains content suitable for Adults Only.
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Having It All by Sophia Valenti
More Holes Than Jeans by Sommer Marsden
Rip Off My Clothes by Thomas Roche
Hill Country by Jax Baynard
Fair Game by Alison Tyler
Introduction
I know what “torn” means to me. I know because my husband, Sam, has this rule in our house: When an item of mine springs a leak, sports a tear, or shows its wear, the piece becomes “fair game.”
The first time he actually ripped the clothes right off me, I have to say, I was shocked. In fact, shocked doesn’t cover what I was. Part of me was horrified—I loved those jeans! Part of me was intrigued—What sort of animal way were we going to make love if this was the starting line? And part of me was a melting pool of butter—Who knew that having my jeans shredded would turn me on so much?
My story unfolded—or perhaps, unraveled—easily from that first frayed thought. Curious as to whether “torn” had the same connotations for others, I put the query out to a few of my favorite writers:
Jax Baynard: For me, torn is about the metaphor. Sometimes when things get rough you walk away. But if you decide to stay, then what? You have to stick it out and make it work somehow. Love and anger and desire and fear all mixed up can be an explosive combination, depending on the personalities involved. I also like the notion of the fabric of a relationship—how it weathers over the years, where it tears from the strain; where it holds together.
Sommer Marsden: Torn brought to mind my favorite jeans. They went through a whole decade of anxiety with me, and when I was feeling particularly jacked up, I rubbed this one spot on the leg. That section eventually turned into a hole that led to a blowout that was the demise of my jeans. But for a while they were the best jeans ever. A reminder that out of difficult times can come some truly beautiful and treasured things.
Thomas Roche: "Torn" immediately made me think of a woman's clothes being ripped off, which probably tells you more about me than you need to know. But it also brought to mind the hot, ripped punk-as-fuck fashions of the '80s that say "Fuck you, my clothes are torn, so I'm not bourgeois any more, and did I mention fuck you?" It's all about attitude and sass. I think ripped clothes are a nagging fear from childhood for a lot of us; those of us who tended to get in scraps and end up with their clothes ripped remember that being a BAD thing—and therefore, taboo. Later in life when we have to pay for our own clothes, ripped clothes represent the loss of something cherished. In this story, torn clothes represent ravishment, creating an urgency and an intense physical conflict between two characters who very badly need it in their relationship. And as far as I'm concerned, it's punk as fuck!
Sophia Valenti: The concept of torn immediately brought to mind a conflict, either one between love and hate, or a challenging choice between lovers, or even warring desires. My story "Having It All" is a playful take on the idea, being the tale of a woman faced with making a decision but then getting everything she craves in the end. And isn't that something we all hope for?
Now, what does torn mean to you? Share your answer at: Torn • Shredded • Whole (http://tornshreddedwhole.blogspot.com).
XXX,
Alison
Having It All
By Sophia Valenti
“I love this one,” I said, admiring my reflection in the mirror as I modeled the skimpy silver dress. I turned from side to side, admiring the short frock from all angles while I mentally inventoried my shoes to determine which sky-high heels in my collection would complement it best.
“Wonderful—then get it,” Hannah said, exasperated, as she sat slumped in the corner of the dressing room. She was busily tapping away at her iPhone as I scrutinized tiny replicas of my silvery self that were reflected into infinity.
“But the other one is nice, too,” I said fretfully, eyeing the scarlet minidress which was draped over the back of the velveteen chair.
Hannah simply glared at me, her annoyance written all over her face. She’d been with me at the mall for hours, attempting to help me pick out a dress for that weekend’s party. Initially, she’d been excited, but as the hours ticked by her enthusiasm had dimmed considerably. I’d narrowed my choices down to two, but I was torn. There was the shiny silver number that was backless and had a halter-style top, and a spaghetti-strapped red one that covered more of my body but showcased my cleavage. It should have been simple, but I was second-guessing myself nonstop as a hopelessly bored Hannah live-Tweeted my indecision—probably hoping that the idea of being publicly shamed would speed up my selection.
She couldn’t have been more wrong.
The problem was that this wasn’t just any party; it was my first real swingers party, and I wanted to look sexy—but not slutty. Or, at least, not too slutty. I mean, I wanted to look inviting, but I still wanted to maintain some sort of class. I wasn’t sure exactly what I was looking to have happen at this get-together, but I figured I’d go there with an open mind and see where the evening took me.
Throughout the past couple of months, I’d gone to a few “off-premise” events with Hannah. Those had been hot parties with lots of dancing and flirtation, but absolutely no sex. Hannah had been attending such affairs for years and had occasionally gone home with a special someone—or someones—when she’d made a connection. As Hannah and I grew closer and she realized she could share her secret with me, she invited me to come out with her. I was nervous the first time, but I wound up really enjoying it.
I eventually began to recognize familiar faces. Even though I didn’t know too many names, Hannah was friendly with everyone. I could always rely on her to fill me in on who was who, which came in handy when a good-looking guy caught my eye. Although I’d yet to take the plunge and actually hook up with anyone, there were two men in particular that I was interested in, who I’d met at different parties. Patrick was a lanky blond who sported a reddish-gold beard and mustache, and Carson, who was slightly shorter and considerably more muscular, had brown hair and dark eyes that twinkled when he laughed. Their personalities were as different as their looks. Patrick was an academic and usually acted very serious—even when he was dancing. He was cute in a dorky way. Carson, a stockbroker, was more outgoing and gregarious, and could often be found entertaining a couple of ladies at once. He was friendly without being overbearing in the way that so many guys on the make can be.
Hannah had told me that the boys had occasionally come to parties with girls in tow, but she hadn’t seen either of them with a date in a while—which explained why I hadn’t run into either of them at the last two events. Those parties had been for couples and single ladies only. (I’d danced with a few hot girls those nights but refrained from exchanging numbers. I can appreciate a pretty lady, but deep down it’s all about cock for me.) Being that this upcoming event was one of the rare occasions where select single men would be allowed to attend, I hoped one of those dreamy guys would show. The idea of having sex with one of them—in the middle of a roomful of people, no less—was making my panties seriously damp.
“I think I like the silver one best,” I said aloud, hoping the declaration would make my decision final. I was indeed finding myself drawn to the garment’s sparkle, but my haste to make a choice was due to the fact that my mind kept wandering to thoughts of Patrick and Carson, making it even more difficult to concentrate on fashion. There was a wicked slide show going on in my head that was causing me to lose all ability to focus. My mind was filling with sexy flashes of me entwined with each of those handsome men—first one and then the other.
“Yes,” I said to my reflection. “Silver it is.”
“Great, it looks fab,” Hannah said to her phone, not sounding the least bit convincing.
“Oh, come on,” I responded, managing to avoid pouting—though just barely.
The annoyance in my voice made Hannah glance up at me through her shaggy chestnut-brown bangs. “You want my honest opinion?” she asked, not pausing to wait for my reply. “Both dresses look amazing on you, but it won’t matter which one you pick. After an hour or so, it’s going to wind up on the floor anyway. And that’s the truth.”
As my friend returned her attention to her gadget, I blushed hotly. I was shocked to hear her articulate such a scenario, even though I knew there was a very real possibility that it might happen. When we’d previously discussed going to this affair, our conversation had consisted of hypothetical scenarios about what “people” do at these events. As she uttered those words, I was startled into the realization that I was going to be one of those people, and the thought caused another wave of lust to swell inside me. Before long, my flushed face had nothing to do with embarrassment and everything to do with my state of unmitigated arousal.
Suddenly, I couldn’t wait to join the party.
I spent Saturday morning at the salon, getting a mani-pedi. I tried to relax and enjoy being pampered. It was like I was prepping myself for some kind of kinky coming out party. My stomach was still filled with butterflies, but I’d made my decision and no last-minute jitters were going to keep me from going and having a good time. At the very least I would have a couple of drinks and dance with some interesting people, which would be way more fun than sitting home alone. And even if I decided not to have sex that night, there would certainly be others who would take advantage of the situation, and I’d be lying if I didn’t say that I was intrigued by the voyeuristic possibilities.
That night I took a cab uptown with Hannah, who was chatting away like it was any old night. But for her, I suppose it was. I was the newbie who was shaking in her strappy stilettos. I managed to make small talk for a few minutes before falling silent, but Hannah knew perfectly well what was going on in my head. “Hey,” she said softly, covering my hand with hers. “No worries, I’ll be there the whole time. But I promise—it’ll be fun. Think of it as a get-together with your closest friends—your closest naked friends.” Then she cracked up, which made me immediately dissolve into giggles.
As the cab slowed to a stop in front of a nondescript building, I checked the address against the one scribbled on the small scrap of paper I’d stuffed into my purse. It was correct but hardly seemed like the right sort of location. It wasn’t a fancy club but a black and gray structure with nary a window lit—except for those of the penthouse loft that was high in the sky. The building’s façade gave no clue as to the salacious activities that would be happening inside. I suppose in a way that could be said about the guests, too. No one at my accounting firm would guess that my mind could be filled with such dirty thoughts—or that I’d be going to a party like this. With my daily uniform of a tailored suit and sensible heels, and a serious approach to business, I was probably the last person my coworkers would suspect of going to a sex soiree.
As we approached the entrance, a muscular man emerged from the building, holding the smoky-gray glass door open. He greeted us warmly and directed us to a young woman holding a clipboard. She checked our names against her list and smiled brightly as she ushered us toward the elevator. As we stood in front of the steel doors, Hannah looked at me. “You’re okay?”
I took a deep breath and smiled at her, my expression inspired by genuine emotion. “Yeah, I’m good. It’s an adventure, right?”
“Yes, a fabulous one,” she answered, locking her arm through mine and escorting me into the elevator.
When the doors opened onto the penthouse loft, I was shocked. We’d been traveling in a grimy, steel freight elevator, which made me seriously lower my expectations about the party. But, boy, was I proved wrong. Rather than being the grungy commercial space I’d envisioned, the loft was a wide-open area with crystal-clear floor to ceiling window and spotless wooden floors. Comfy-looking couches and chairs lined the walls, and tiny flickering candles on each of the tables cast the room in a warm glow. A small but lively crowd chatted amicably near the bar. Most of the women were as scantily clad as I was. Sexy dresses were the order of the night for the ladies, while most of the men were dressed in black.
“Melissa!” my friend suddenly cried out as a leggy, smiling blonde approached us the second we stepped off the elevator. “She’s the hostess,” Hannah said in an aside, a moment before the two ladies kissed. Melissa then introduced herself to me and gave us a tour.
Melissa cheerfully pointed out the space’s amenities, and for a moment, it seemed as if I could have been at any sort of cocktail party—until she showed us the play area. A section in a far corner of the loft was set off by billows of white gossamer. She parted the curtains to show us the dozen or so mattresses that were spread out across the floor and the sex swing set up in the middle of it all. At that moment, no one was partaking of the area, but the night was young, as Melissa said before beseeching us to get a drink and mingle.
Hannah brought me around the room and introduced me to a few of her friends. I enjoyed the way that some of the men and women looked at me, their gaze lingering on my curves. In their eyes there was a glimmer of promise—reflecting my own fantasies. I boldly stared back at them and found myself getting turned on as erotic possibilities filled my mind. I was mulling over this situation as Hannah chatted with Melissa over a plate of scrumptious-looking mini cupcakes. I heard the elevator doors open behind me and glanced over to see who the newcomers were. A giggly young couple stepped out, and they were quickly followed by Patrick—and then Carson. I choked on my Cosmo and elbowed Hannah to get her attention.
“Ow! What’s the problem?” she hissed at me under her breath. I tossed my head in the direction of the boys, who were talking amicably—and heading in our direction.
“So what?” Hannah said, seeming to be annoyed that I’d interrupted her cupcake selection.
“They’re both here! What am I going to do?”
Hannah rolled her eyes. “You’re going to have a good time. This isn’t like shopping for a dress. You don’t have to choose only one.” Hannah paused to pop a tiny confection into my mouth. “Here, you can have your cake and eat them, too,” she added, nodding her head in their direction. Then she nudged me away from her with a push to the small of my back. I stumbled forward and nearly tumbled into Carson’s arms. He steadied me with an arm around my waist, and I had to bite back a purr when I felt his strong arm surround me.
“Whoa—careful, Kate,” Carson said with a chuckle, making sure I was steady on my stilettos, but never removing his arm from around my waist even when I had both feet firmly planted on the ground. I looked up into his dark brown eyes, feeling myself getting instantly lost in their warmth.
“Thanks,” I managed to reply without a stutter, surprising myself. I flashed my best flirtatious smile, and then kissed each of the guys on the cheek as we exchanged hellos.
“Good thing you’re empty,” Carson joked, pointing at the martini glass in my hand. “Otherwise there would have been a mess.” He took the glass from me, and then spoke to Patrick: “I’ll get this round. You keep Kate company until I get back.”
For a minute, I struggled with what to say, having Hannah’s words still echoing in my mind. There I was thinking I was so hip and cosmopolitan, going to a sex party in the city, and it never occurred to me that I could actually have a threesome with two hot guys. I had to give Hannah credit because she apparently knew me better than I knew myself. It was as if all of my earlier daydreams had melded together into a kaleidoscopic swirl of sexy. I felt my face flushing as I spoke to Patrick, commenting, “I couldn’t help but notice that you two came solo.”
“Yeah,” Patrick answered, his blue eyes sparkling mischievously. “But we were hoping we’d come with someone else before the night was over.” I chuckled at his unexpected joke. “Maybe even the same someone,” he added, looking at me slyly, and my laughter died in my throat. Whether an honest revelation or a complete come-on, I didn’t care. My heart was fluttering in my chest as the notion that unfulfilled desires I didn’t even know I had were suddenly within reach.
I stared at Patrick with unblinking eyes, the sensual tension between the two of us racheting up dramatically in the few seconds we’d been speaking. If I’d run into the boys at a bar or a club, our encounter might not have had such a strong vibe, but the fact that there were couples and trios already sharing hot kisses in the room—and that there were all those available mattresses mere feet away—added an extra dimension to our flirtation.
My mouth felt dry, and I licked my upper lip nervously. Patrick’s gaze lingered on my tongue, even as Carson reappeared, carefully balancing three glasses. “Did I miss something?” he asked teasingly, picking up on our obvious attraction. I took my drink from him, stroking his arm as I thanked him in order to convey that my interest didn’t lie solely with Patrick. He immediately understood, and his cocky yet sexy smile sent a shiver down my spine. Taking charge, Carson motioned to a loveseat with just enough room for three.
“Why don’t we get cozy?” he suggested, his voice friendly but laden with innuendo. I situated myself in the middle, positioning myself exactly where I wanted to be as the boys sat on either side of me.
Patrick put his arm around my shoulder, and the touch of his hand on my bare skin was electric. I wanted to snuggle into him, but I didn’t want to distance myself from Carson in any way. I shouldn’t have worried, though, Carson seemed like the kind of guy who went after what he wanted—and it seemed that he wanted me, because he placed his hand on my thigh, softly stroking me with his thumb. He drew soft, slow circles against my leg as Patrick ran his fingers down my shoulder and arm. I’d never been in such a situation before, being the recipient of attention from two handsome men at the same time, but I quickly realized that I liked it—a lot. A dull ache of arousal began to throb between my legs, and the ticklish sensation of honey seeping from my slit made me shift slightly in my seat.
I’d barely touched my second drink, but I was already dizzy with lust. Making the decision that I was going to enjoy Patrick and Carson for all they had to give made me feel as if a weight had been lifted off of me. Whether it was that I was pushing aside boundaries that I’d always felt constrained by, or simply that I was being more honest with myself about my cravings, I wasn’t entirely sure. But what I did know was that I could hardly wait to get naked with them.
When our polite small talk had faded into nothingness, I looked at each of the boys. They wore sexy, relaxed smiles, and I could tell that while they wanted me, they were waiting for me to kickstart our encounter. I had no problem with that, so I put down my glass and leaned toward Carson, kissing him softly. As our lips locked, I felt Patrick’s hand slip down my back, caressing me gently. Carson tangled his fingers in my hair, holding me in place as his kisses grew more aggressive. I liked how Patrick continued to keep his hands on me, adding to my arousal, but never getting in the way of the way of my embrace with Carson.
When we broke apart, Carson gazed at me from underneath heavy lidded eyes. I ran a hand down his chest, stopping right at the waistband of his pants and making him groan, before turning toward Patrick and bringing my lips to his. His scruffy golden beard tickled my chin as I slipped my tongue into his open mouth. I’d expected Patrick to be gentle, but he was even bolder than Carson, quickly taking control of our kiss and unfastening the tie holding the top of my dress in place.
My dress fell to my waist, revealing my braless breasts, which were quickly cupped by Carson. His body was pressed against my back, and I moaned into Patrick’s mouth as his friend tweaked my nipples between his fingers. I broke our passionate kiss to catch my breath, and as I leaned back against Carson, I spied Hannah across the room. She was curled up next to a good-looking couple and seemed to be edging closer and closer to the lithe blonde lady, who was looking adoringly at her.
Knowing that Hannah was happily occupied made me feel better about taking my leave for a bit. I stood, causing my dress to drop to the floor. Standing in only my shoes and panties, I could feel the weight of the boys’ stares. I noticed other partygoers stealing glances at me, too. I liked the attention; it only made me more eager to get fucked.