Find more from this author on:
About the author:
Ariadne’s life and her personal triumphs and stunning disappointments are the best possible qualifications for spinning and weaving these tales. Her real-life affairs on four continents, her extensive travels, especially in Europe, and her long residence in Tokyo all color the drama and comedy she writes, as do her collegiate years in Berkeley and New York City, her work as a systems design and development professional, her years as a jet-setting marketer and consultant, and her successful stints as a major corporate division head and international seminar leader.
What inspired you to write your book?
This short book is the first installment of a series that will have a minimum of nine 15-18K shorts making three short novels. Three additional sets are plotted if this first series does well. Yeah, I’m ambitious. Color me just another over-reaching female. :-))
Here is a short sample from the book:
The first time Harry had seen the Olsen house, the day was nearing dusk, and the inside hadn’t yet been cleaned. After seeing it in the gloom, he hadn’t been excited at the prospect of going back, but he’d let Kate convince him. It was situated in a cul-de-sac, just where the terrain rose up to become one of the foothills of Mount Tamalpais. As they drove up the street, Harry saw the contrast between the clean lines of the house with its stark white surfaces and the fake-Tudor and faux-Spanish exteriors of its neighbors. To most people in his tax bracket, standing out as it did would be a turn-off, but Kate had read Harry right: to him it was another opportunity to announce his boldness and unique vision.
“Before we go inside, Harry, promise me that if this isn’t the perfect place for you and the way you want to live, you’ll be blunt and say so, and then let me go to work for you to find a home that is.”
Harry grinned. “I’m tempted to tell you it isn’t what I want, if that means we could spend the next month together inspecting others and going to lunch.”
Kate pounced. “It would be a better use of time closing on this place, Harry, and then if you want my help, we can spend our time together furnishing it. I’d love to give it the pop I want people to see and feel when they come to one of your legendary parties.”
As they approached the front door, a maintenance man greeted Kate. “Buenos dias, Señora,” he said.
“Buenos dias, Papa Nogales.” She introduced him to Harry. “This is Señor Nogales. His family handles all the grounds and inside maintenance for our properties.” Mr. Nogales told Kate the power was on, and the equipment down in the exercise room had been serviced and everything was fully operational.
“When we were here that weekend the downstairs was a mess, Harry. We’ve had it cleaned up and all the workout machines are like new. Since you’re so busy, that has to be a main attraction, I’d think.”
Inside the front door, Kate said the custom beige and cream carpets had been freshly cleaned, so they needed to remove their shoes. Harry removed his wingtips, and followed her out into the main space, with its dramatic cathedral ceiling. He looked around the huge living area.
“You can see it’s been designed for serious entertaining as well as easy going comfort,” Kate said.
“It’s perfect for the sort of parties I have to throw, that’s for sure. And it’s much more comfortable than those show homes with all their girly fake French furniture.”
Kate nodded, happy that she had convinced her bosses to leave the main furnishings and accents in the house to give it a lived-in look. Most of the things had been custom-designed for the house by the architect, and wouldn’t fit anywhere else, so she’d persuaded the owners to include them with the sale.
“It is,” she agreed. “It’s a house made for people who are alive, not museum attendants, or crowds who simply walk through it, gawking at real architecture with no clue.”
“You really like this place, Kate. I can tell,” he said.
“I do. I love its openness, its comfort, its sensuality.”
He looked up at her use of the word. He’s wondering if I’m being suggestive. Or just descriptive. Or both. Careful, girl.
“And what I love the most is the way the pool and the rear terrace area is like an extension of the living space.” She smiled. “Makes me want to strip naked and dive right in.” He grinned. Now she could be sure he knew she was being provocative. And that he liked it.
“That would make for some pretty memorable parties, I admit,” he said.
“Yes,” Kate said. “And the whole back of the property is totally private, since the hill and the State park begin at the fence. You and your guests can swim and play in the nude with no fear of snooping or uptight neighbors.”
He laughed. “More ‘homework’, Kate?”
She smiled. “Harry, you’re famous for more than making money for your clients, as everyone around here knows. And you should be: a man as wealthy and attractive as you deserves to enjoy himself any way he wishes.” She leaned closer. “And to have a home designed to show off its owner, not its own stone walls and designer kitchen.”
She led him up the elegant freestanding staircase to the upper floor. “We’ve had all the rooms cleaned since you saw it a few weeks ago,” she said as they walked through the four bedrooms. The master bedroom was on the quiet rear side of the house, overlooking the magnificent pool below. “There’s a stairwell the goes down from the master dressing area to the pool level, then on down to the basement where the exercise room is,” she said. “So you can do your workout, then take a swim, then go straight up to the big master shower and dressing area without setting foot in the living areas.” She winked at Harry. “Made for people who enjoy being nude.”
Harry nodded appreciatively. “Show me the workout room.”
“Sure. Just down the steps.” He followed her down the two flights of stairs. There was a hallway that led out to the enormous exercise room. Kate turned in the other direction. “At this end there are two bedrooms and a shared bathroom for the household staff,” she said.
“May I see?” Harry asked. “Nice,” he said. “One could be converted to a prison cell. The other would make a handy punishment room.”
Kate stared at him, unsure how, or even if, she should respond. “Funny,” she said, smiling.
“Not to the pretty thing in the prison cell, I imagine, chained and naked and awaiting her fate,” he said.
Kate, now truly unnerved, said nothing.
She led him out to the exercise space. He noted that the treadmill machine was the latest type, the weights workout machine was the best quality, and the exercise bicycle was equipped with all the new computerized features.
“It’s as good as my club,” he said.
“And better than mine,” she said. “This way, Harry.”
He followed Kate into the downstairs dressing room. “It has a group-sized shower,” she joked. Harry nodded, smiling, as he stepped over to the professional massage table. He saw that it was a custom OrgazzMax, like he had in his penthouse apartment in the city.
“Very good,” he said. “You’ve tried it?” Kate reddened.
“No. Haven’t seen it when it’s all clean and, um, ready, like that,” she joked. Harry smiled.
“Then you’re in for a treat,” he said, as he closed the door out to the exercise area. “Both of us, rather.” When she heard the lock click into place, Kate became alarmed. “Harry?” she asked.
“Come here, Kate,” he said quietly. Kate froze, seeing the look in his eyes. “Come, girl. Now,” he repeated.
“Harry, I don’t think this is a good idea,” she said. “Let’s go upstairs, OK?”
Harry held out his hand. “Give me your hand, sweetheart.”
“Harry, I . . . ”
“Here, little one. Give me your lovely hand, like you did in the restaurant,” he said softly, taking a step toward her.
Kate was torn between giving in to him, something she’d fantasized doing every night since they’d met, and turning for the stairs and making a break for it. “We both know you want me to hold you,” he said softly. He took a step closer. “Come to me, child.”
She glanced at the door to the stairwell. “Harry, what if Señor Nogales comes down here to check up on us?”
Harry held out his other hand. “If he does, he’ll see one of the most beautiful women in California surrendering to a man who has hungered for her for ten long nights, wanting to take her and make her scream with pleasure. Come.”
Kate looked again at the door, trembling half with fear and half with excitement. “Look at me, girl,” Harry said. He closed the gap between them and took both her hands in his. “Look into my eyes. If I see in yours that you don’t want me to undress you and fuck you, then I’ll let you walk up those steps and I’ll never look at you again the way I am now. You’ll never again have to show your bared, trembling, naked soul to me. You’ll never again see the man who needs to be in you and possess you completely.”
Kate was so hot she felt difficulty in breathing.
“Harry, this is so wrong . . . ” Her voice trailed off as the intensity of his blue eyes bore into hers.
“Look at me, Kate. Look into my eyes and see yourself fucked like you’ve never been fucked in your life.”
“Harry, please, don’t say such things . . . ”
He kissed her fingers, kissed her palms, then placed them around his neck and took her in his arms and kissed her aching mouth. As his tongue forced its way into her, she responded finally, and she melted in his powerful embrace. If she hadn’t been hanging on tightly to his neck, she would’ve collapsed to the floor. He half-carried her to the massage table, and turned her around.
He kissed her ear and the nape of her neck, sending a hot snake of fire down her back and straight to her groin.
“This isn’t happening, sweetest girl,” he whispered. “This is a dream.” He lifted up the hem of her new cream dress. “This is the dream you have every night, the one that has never come true. Until now.” He kissed her neck again and turned her head back to kiss her on her mouth. He had her raise her arms and lifted the dress over her head. He tossed the dress on a chair and slipped one hand inside the front of her panties. He pulled them down and ran his fingertips over her pussy.
“This is the dream we share, beautiful girl, where you surrender to me and beg me to mount you and take ownership of your body and the heart pounding so hard within it.”
“Please, Harry,” she pleaded, “not here. We mustn’t . . . ”
“Shhh, sweet girl,” he whispered. “This isn’t real. Reality is what we’ll go back to after you come for me and I fill your hot cunt.”
He entered her with his strong fingers and she lurched against the padded edge of the table. He bent her forward, over the end, and made her reach up to grasp the handholds at the center of the table.
“If this were real,” he said softly, “I’d tie your wrists to the table and whip you and rape you.” He leaned down to kiss her neck and whispered. “Know now, beautiful slave, that time’s coming, the night I’ll make your most secret dream a reality, make you kneel and submit to me, chain you and enter you hard, force you to beg to belong to me.”
He kissed the nape of her elegant neck again, and breathed in the smell of her long hair. “You understand here in your sweet pussy and here in your heart that night awaits you. You know it’s coming, don’t you, sweetheart?”
“Harry . . . ”
“Say it, girl.”
“Yes . . . ” Kate whispered.
“But this is just a dream, and you’re going to open your legs for me now because you need to feel me inside you. You need me inside your dream. Fucking you until you want to scream.”
He continued to finger her pussy and play with her clit as he thrust deep inside her cunt, again and again. When Kate came, it shattered her, the first memorable orgasm she’d had with a man in three years. Four. Then he’d put her up on the massage table and pushed her trembling legs apart and utterly, totally, brutally had her, making her come again as he fucked her. Unlike any man she’d ever been with, he was able to hold off, and stayed hard for her. After what seemed like an hour or more, an hour of him slow-fucking her and whispering all the hot, filthy, sweaty, deliciously terrible things she was certain no man knew about her, he turned her on her belly and lifted her up to kneel behind her and force her again, ramming his cock up her, leaning down over her back to kiss the back of her neck and knead her breasts. This time, he came with her in a firestorm of heat and wetness. All she could hear was her own voice, pleading for it. He made her put her fingers inside herself, and then suck his come and her wetness from her fingers as he held her and looked down at her. Made her do it again. And again, then kissed her so deep and long she was sure she was going to suffocate, and would not care so long as her last breath was his. That last time had been, she realized later that night, in her bed at home, reliving this dream afternoon, the first time she had been consumed, as so many thrilling novels called it. He’d opened her up, and left her secret unbeloved soul no place to hide.
Copyright Vivante Publications 2015 – All Rights Reserved