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Auction Night

A Stewart Realty Extra Scene
All rights reserved
Liz Crowe  

“Come on,” Sara said, tugging at Jack’s hand.  “You need to do this. You know it’s for a good cause.”

He rolled his eyes and let her pull him into the shop where the tailor waited with his new tuxedo. She sat in one of the leather chairs and watched while her fiancé got a final fitting for the jet black suit. She grinned and crossed her legs, mentally high-fiving herself. The sunlight caught the diamond on her left ring finger and she allowed herself a minute to admire it, before berating herself for being so completely craven.

She looked up then and caught Jack’s eye. He raised an eyebrow at her and gave a nearly imperceptible nod. She smiled and leaned back in the chair, uncrossed her legs and propped her feet in the super high heels that he liked so much. He held up his arms and let the tailor pinch and fuss over the jacket. A tingle shot down her spine at the sight. Her man. Jack Gordon. Of all men on the planet—who would have guessed?

She shifted in her seat and re-crossed her legs while he watched, his deep blue eyes darkening. Unable to stop herself, she put her fingertip to her lips then touched the tops of her breasts. A corner of his lips lifted in a knowing smirk. While part of her resented that knowing asshole-ish look, the other part could see herself leaping at him, tackling him, ripping off that tailor-made tuxedo and straddling him. She swallowed hard. His grinned widened.

The tailor kept fussing around him, messing with the hem on the trousers, the cut of the jacket. At one point he called out for an assistant who appeared holding a couple of bright, white shirts. Sara watched, feeling woozy, drunk, and horny. She stretched her arms out in front of her and admired the obnoxious diamond again. She was positively buzzing with anticipation.

Finally, Jack emerged from the dressing room, finger hooked through a few hangers.
“Let’s go get something to eat before I have to parade around like a piece of meat.” He held out an elbow and she slipped her arm through it.

“Oh don’t you dare lie. You love the thought of being a piece of meat.”

He shot her a strange look. She grinned and pecked him on the lips, relishing his discomfort.  
“Nah, not anymore,” he insisted as he led her out into the darkening Ann Arbor night. “But I am hungry and can’t strut my stuff without some sustenance.”

They ended up at Café Felix, sitting at a sidewalk table over a bottle of Argentinian red wine and a steak.

“You know, I don’t want to do this,” Jack insisted, cutting a piece and putting it to her lips. “I feel like it makes you unhappy.”

“Don’t be silly, Jack,” she said, taking the morsel, chewing, swallowing and sipping her wine. “It’s a great cause. Lots of married men are participating. You're barely engaged.” She flashed her left hand at him. He winced, and ate a few bites of the steak.

He put the utensils down, grabbed her hand and pulled it to his lips. She leaned forward, loving the utter perfection of this moment.

“I love you, Sara Jane,” he said, running his fingers down her wrist and up her arm to her shoulder. “I don’t want to do this. It’s … not fair or something.”

She chuckled. “You’re such a liar Jack Gordon. You can’t wait to get up there and strut your shit. I have it on best authority that you have a bet with Rob that you’ll get more money than he will—and I will tell you right now, that man is something blond and hot. Just ask my brother.”

Jack laughed and let go of her, tucking back in to the meal with gusto. Sara watched, sipping, while her man ate his steak. After a few minutes, he’d paid the check and they were on their way to the Michigan Theater for the man auction fund raiser.

She gave him a non committal kiss and shoved him toward the back rooms so he could change. He stopped her, grabbing her hand in the middle of the increasing crowd. “I won’t do this, if you don’t like it.”

“Don’t be silly. I have no reason to not like it.” She let her gaze travel down his torso and back up again. He blinked, then grinned.

“God damn I knew I loved you for a reason.”

Just then Rob passed them and smacked Sara on the ass, making her yelp.

“Let’s go Gordon,” he said, grabbing Jack’s arm. “Time for you to see how a real man raises money for Foodgatherers.” He had his own tuxedo over his shoulder. 

Jack stood, seemingly frozen with indecision. Rob let him wait, then winked at Sara before tugging him away into the back rooms.

She chatted with a few friends then found a seat in the dark, wanting to experience this little show all by herself. A glass of champagne set her at ease but her nerves were humming still as the lights dimmed and the auctioneer got the crowd fired up with a funny bit about “man flesh” and “good causes.”

She grinned and watched the other men parade around, looking awkward and uncomfortable. Finally, the lights dimmed and single spotlight hit the middle of the stage. The music switched from cheesy burlesque to Frank Sinatra crooning “I Get a Kick Out of You.”

“And now, ladies, I give you the auction lot you’ve been waiting for,” the auctioneer bleated into the microphone. Sara grinned and sunk lower into her seat, twisting the ring around her finger.

“The one, the only….Mister John Patrick Gordon!” 

The crowd squealed, the spotlight flared bright, and Jack’s silhouette appeared, hands tucked into his pockets. Sara’s face flushed hot, noting the flurry of auction paddles that shot up. The auction house flunkies scrambled up and down the aisles, trying to keep up with the bidding.

Old Blue Eyes kept crooning, nearly deafening the crowd. Sara sat still, watching the bids climb. Rob had gone just before Jack and had taken nearly $9000 to the extreme chagrin of Sara’s brother via text. The auctioneer kept calling out numbers.

Two thousand.
Six and a half.
The music changed then. The bass line thumped through her chest and she watched as a bunch of clamoring women bid on a date with her fiancé. She watched while Jack strutted his stuff around the stage like a pro, smiling and winking, slipping off his jacket and unbuttoning his shirt. The crowd ramped up, and the bid hit eight thousand dollars.  

Sara rose to her feet and raised her paddle, nodding to one of the auction assistants.
The lyrics hit her hard and she bit her lip, pondering how very foolish she might be at this moment, trusting the man on the stage right now, whose very presence had worked this room up to such a ridiculous frenzy. She hesitated a second, listening…

I done been around the world
I done kissed a lot of girls
So I'm guessin' that it's true
Make me holla and I bet a million dollars
Don't nobody kiss it like you….

At that moment, Jack looked right at her, as if he knew exactly where she’d be sitting, apart from the crowd, just taking it all in. He smiled and hooked his finger his jacket over his shoulder and stared. She grinned and whispered to the auction helper.

She hurried out, settled her winning bid and snagged another glass of champagne. After about thirty minutes of socializing she ducked into the back hallway near the bathrooms. Every inch of her skin tingled. She nodded at a few guys she knew who’d been part of the auction, but was on a mission towards the very back room, a small one, at the end of the long hallway. She could hear him, he was laughing, then he was flirting, she could sense his change of cadence and tone.

She sucked back the rest of her booze and set the empty glass on a passing tray. Tugging her skirt down and taking a deep breath, she stepped behind an open door, into a room stacked with speakers and miscellaneous crap. Her ears were ringing from the music and yelling over the final bidding war. She leaned on a stack of something, reminding herself that she won, period. But the bright light of jealousy was slowly but surely blinding her. Could she do this? Be married to a man that so many women wanted, and were willing to pay cold hard cash for…just a damn date?

Sweat dripped down her back. She wished she’d taken the time to change into something sexier than her work skirt and blouse. She wished she’d never said “fine” to the question “Hey, honey can I get my fine ass auctioned off for charity?” She waved her hand in front of her face, trying not to hyperventilate.

Finally, after what felt like an hour, a figure appeared in the doorway. It leaned there, silent. She watched, unable to form words.

“I love you,” she said, finally, at the same time he said, “You seriously spent how much?”

They came together in a tangle of lips, teeth and clothing. She reached down to unzip him just as he yanked her blouse open to cup her breast. The urgency made her want to cry. He tasted so good, felt so perfect, touched her in all the right places.

He made a low, growling sound as he ripped her panties off and plunged his fingers between her legs even as he lifted her up so she was sitting on a speaker.

“Jack,” she gasped as he leaned down to tug her nipple into his mouth. “Wait.” She tugged his face up to meet hers. His blue eyes twinkled in the half light thrown from the hallway.

“Why? You paid ten grand for this. I’d better get to work.” He kissed her then, and teased her with his fingers until she cried out and clutched at him.

“Jesus,” she gasped, staring up at the darkened ceiling and acknowledging that the noises outside the closet were dying down. “Honey, let’s…go…”

She slid down off the speaker, keeping her lips on his neck, unable to stop kissing him. All she knew was him then, his smell, his taste, his sound.

“Turn around,” he whispered. “Put your hands on the wall.”

He threaded his fingers in her hair and leaned over her back as he slid into her. She arched her back, sighing with satisfaction at their connection, shuddering when he reached around to cup her breasts and tug her nipples. He came fast, groaning too loud but she didn’t care at that point.

He slipped out and pulled her up, turning her around and kissing her until she got dizzy. He put a hand alongside her cheek and grinned. Then reached down to zip himself back up and help her get her skirt down and her blouse pulled back together. He held her close for a minute. His heartbeat pounded through her, calming hers, even as she worried that they’d just acted like horny teenagers at a grown up event.

“Well, Mizz Thornton,” he said. She pressed her lips to his neck as he spoke. “Will that do?”

She laughed, and grabbed his hair, going up on her tiptoes in her high heeled shoes to bite his lower lip. “Not even close,” she whispered, cupping his ass. “Mine.” She sighed into his chest. He held her close, making her feel loved and protected, which made her feel suspicious. 

Oh get over yourself Sara. You just spent a solid commission on this man. Enjoy it.

“Good,” Jack said, sliding his hand up her skirt and touching the edge of her bare sex. “I don’t feel like I’ve given you your money’s worth…yet.”

“Feed me first. You ate all the damn steak,” she said, before biting his earlobe. “And find my panties, unless you wanna leave ‘em in this closet.”

“My command,” Jack said as he fished around on the floor and emerged with a black scrap of silk dangling from his finger. She snagged them and they giggled their way to the closed door.

“Holy shit,” he said, shielding his eyes. Sara blinked, then smiled and waved at the crowd of people hanging around the hallway, cheering. 

“And that, ladies and gents,” Jack said, not embarrassed in the slightest by the fact that the entire damn hallway full of people knew what they’d been doing just now. “Is how you raise money in this town.” He yanked her close, bent her back for a public, yet very private kiss.

Later, over a bourbon and decent filet at the Chop House, he leaned across the table and touched her lips as she ate. Sara tried not to be mesmerized by his blue eyes but gave up, figuring she might as well, since they were supposed to get married. The heft of the ring on her left hand suddenly made her feel weighed down and somehow stressed out.

“You’re okay, right,” he asked, as he picked up his half empty glass.

“Sure,” she said, reaching for the knife to cut another piece of steak. He grabbed her hand, uncurled her fingers and took the utensil.

“You paid for a service. Allow me to provide it.” He grinned and his blue gaze darkened. 

She tilted her head and watched as he cut the meat then held it up to her lips. She took it, chewed the rich morsel and swallowed. His foot pressed between hers, forcing them apart. His hand slid up her bare thigh, making her shiver. “You owe me, Gordon,” she said as he leaned over to kiss her.

“Well hell, baby, I’d guess so. I’m not sure I’d ever spend ten grand on pussy…so I’ll take it as the ultimate compliment.”

“You’re such a huge pig,” she sighed into his lips, sensing herself melt into him. “I don’t know that you’re worth it…yet.”

“Yep,” he said, reaching around to cup the back of her neck. “I’m a pig. But I’ll earn every…” he pecked her cheek… “Single…” he slid his lips down her neck, keeping one hand on her neck, the other sliding up her leg. “Penny.”

                        The End.

Want to know more? EACH TITLE IS A LIVE LINK!

And more:

Yeah, well, I promise not to share them all with you but for now, allow me to beg….

My first self publishing adventure/insanity is really happening. Outside of the daily panic attacks over edits, timing, promos, trailers, budgets and, you know the actual WRITING and EDITING of the dang books … well, you get me.

Anyways, by way of an update, LOVE GARAGE is headed for proofreading, COACH LOVE is in post "Liz Early Reader" revision and headed to 1st content edits in a few days, LOVE BREWING is ruminating ….. and I have a FREE SCENE for ya here as part of this little begging exercise.

The Love Brothers is a series about a mixed Italian/Irish heritage family, set in a fictional, former horse farm intensive town between Lexington and Louisville Kentucky that has been co-opted by developers and hipsters as a hot new suburb. The story of the parents (Lindsay Halloran and Anton Love) will be told by way of a novel within a novel by the youngest son, Aiden, in the 4th book. But we jump in with both feet with book 1 (LOVE GARAGE), then move on to the brothers' stories as adults with COACH LOVE and LOVE BREWING (the family business is, no big surprise, a brewery). 

I am plumbing my own background growing up in small town Kentucky for this series, which has caused some interesting "what does THAT mean?" conversations with my Aussie editor. It's another in my ongoing attempt to show how ordinary folks live, love and make it through the everyday triumphs and tragedies of life. Early readers are raving! They even set up Goodreads pages for the first 2 books (Love Garage/Coach Love). I'm trying a few new things, craft-wise with these boys but am enjoying the heck out of getting my Southern back on, bourbon, basketball, "I'll swan," and all!


Allow me to introduce you to Diana Brantley, a new character for the 3rd novel in this sweeping, yet down home family series. THERE IS AN ENTIRE WORKING CAST OF CHARACTERS FOR THIS SERIES IN MY FAN PAGE ON FACEBOOK in the "files" section. 

Dominic Sean Love is one of the 2 "middle brothers" and is proving to be a fan favorite, even though his whole story has not yet been told….

Diana slapped the horse's rump as she turned him out into the paddock and leaned against the barn door, relishing the soreness in her muscles from the morning's efforts. The sun burned a white hole in the light blue, late summer sky. Smells of her childhood filled her nose, smoothing her edges. There was an edge in the air that made her shiver with anticipation. The cow made a low sound, reminding her she needed to stop dreaming about her favorite season--the hunting kind--and finish mucking out the rest of the barn. The garden needed weeding. The last of her tomatoes were due in and her sister Jen had already sent her three texts about the egg salad she needed to make and get over the shop.
With a heavy sigh, she closed her eyes and let the light wind cool her face. Her arm muscles were burning, her thighs quivered from the morning's hard ride. She turned and let her butt drop onto the overturned bucket from the horse's post-ride cool and wash.
"Go on, get out there, ya big baby," she said when the huge saddlebred nuzzled her arm. She watched him trot away obediently and stick his nose into the water trough, his tail flicking lazily, indicating his satisfaction with their morning's exercise. Her eyes closed again and she let the sweet smells and sounds of her family's farm fill all her senses. Bees buzzed, the cow made another reminder sound, late season locusts hummed. Diana drifted, her mind calm for a change, free of her sister's endless to-do lists and catering menus.
When the horse whinnied and snorted she ignored it and stretched her jeans-clad legs out in front of her, arms up over her head. One of the dogs let out a loud bark, then other other two joined in, the sounds delighted, so she figured Jen must have pulled up in the catering van to pick up the egg salad she still needed to make.
Deciding to ignore her a big longer and enjoy the peace and quiet she always found in the barn, Diana kept her eyes closed.
"Hey," a distressingly familiar male voice said. "Um, Diana?"
She sighed, keeping her eyes tight shut, unwilling to acknowledge how much she would have given at one point in her life to hear that voice say her name again.
"What do you want Dominic?"
"Just a place to crash. Hide a bit, I don't know."
"Why now? I thought you are your folks were getting along good now. Did your brother just get married or something?"
"Diana," his voice broke. "Please."
She opened her eyes and observed the man she had loved since she'd been sixteen and they'd spent a summer experimenting with pot, booze and sex. He stood in, of all things, a pair of dress pants, a crumpled long-sleeved shirt. A red tie hung loose around his neck. His hair was yanked back so she could see that he'd added more body art to his neck. He was looking down at his feet. She rose and smacked the dust of her ass then stood, arms crossed, willing him not to be here, not to tempt her, because god help her still loved this man, despite how badly she'd allowed him to treat her.
"I am not letting you back in my bed, Dom."
The corner of his full lips lifted in a smirk that made her want to smack it off his face.
"Not asking for that…yet."
"Go to hell," she said, brushing by him, forcing him out of her brain. He snagged her arm and held on tight.
"I'm already there, trust me. Diana, I swear it I just need a friend right now and someplace to lay low. I'll help, you know that."
As if on cue, the horse bumped his back, shoving him forward. He kept his grip on her arm and leaned in close to her ear. She frowned and yanked her arm out of his grip, keeping her gaze on the far horizon and her mind on the fact that if she went with her gut right now, she'd pull this man back into her bed, her heart and her life, no questions asked.
"You can sleep out here."
He let go of her. "Thanks, babe."
"Don't call me babe, you shithead, mother-fucking, selfish, cheating asshole."
"Okay," he said. She kept walking away from him, letting the memory of their last and she believed final blow out fight fill her mind, fueling her fury as she put one boot in front of the other, putting as much distance as she could between them.


NOW FOR THE BEGGING! I have paid for some amazing, custom covers for all of these books, plus a trailer….and I will be revealing all of these things with excerpts and blurbs for the first 3 books on NOVEMBER 2, 2014….so I'm hosting a HUGE party on Facebook and a giant giveaway.

If you are an author, a reviewer, blogger or anyone who'd like more exposure via a giant gala and 10-day rafflecopter giveaway please consider donating any prize of your choice to the contest AND if you like you can host an hour or 2 of the 2-day Facebook gala!
USE THIS FORM! It's easy, just a few questions and I'll take it from there:

Thanks to Cate Masters and her beautifully crafted novel WEDDING AT THE BLUE MOON CAFE (from Decadent Publishing) I am feeling pretty good about the human race right now.

Sure, there are stupid wars, scary diseases and if I lived in Toledo I doubt that I'd be drinking my water just yet. In my own life things have been so crazed as to be certifiable between losing my job, selling my house, moving into condo, nurse-maiding my spouse through knee replacement surgery without killing him, and now finalizing a house purchase that will be undergoing a GIANT RENOVATION in the coming months (more on this later, with pix!).

But I realized that I owed some of my fellow authors reviews, based on promises made back before all that up there happened to me. So I pulled out my iPad and got reading--reminding myself that "reading" is really my 2nd favorite leisure time activity. I'll let you guess the 1st one. 

I will be reading and reviewing several books in the coming weeks, including books by Nina Pierce, D.H. Johnson, Jennifer Probst, and Margie Church and posting them here on the Beer Books and More Blog (and on the 'Zon and Goodreads). But today, allow me to introduce you to:

and her novel
Wedding at the Blue Moon Cafe

Cate Masters has made beautiful central Pennsylvania her home, but she'll always be a Jersey girl at heart.

Most days, she can be found in her lair, concocting a magical brew of contemporary, historical, and fantasy/paranormal stories with her cat Chairman Maiow and dog Lily as company. 
Look for her at, and in strange nooks and far-flung corners of the web.

Reviewers have described her work as "so compelling, I did not want to put it down," "such romantic tales that really touch your soul," "filled with action scenes which made it a riveting story," and "the author weaves a great tale with a creative way of using words that makes the story refreshing to read." 

Her novellas, short stories and flash fiction appear at various epress sites and web zines as well as Flesh from Ashes (2005), Quality Women's Fiction (2005), Phase (2004), and The Writer's online edition.

Her freelance articles have appeared in The Sentinel, Carlisle.

She was nominated for the Most Engaging Author in the 2012 Readers' Choice award. 
In 2012, her re-release of Sixties-era short, Seventh Heaven, was an EPIC finalist. 

In 2011, three stories placed in the Top Ten Finishers at the Preditors and Editors Poll - Angels, Sinners and Madmen (historical); Follow the Stars Home (Native American historical); and Design for Life (contemporary) 

In 2011, four stories finaled in the EPIC competition: One Soul for Sale (paranormal); Going with Gravity (contemporary); Picture This (contemporary); and Wilderness Girl (contemporary erotic romance). 

In 2010, The Pearl S. Buck Foundation awarded first place to her short literary story, Christmas Eve at the Diner on Rathole Street.

Her short literary story, All is Calm, All is Bright, was awarded second place in the annual Pennwriters Short Story contest in 2005. 

In addition to her own blog, she launched TBR (To Be Read) in 2012, and is a contributor at The Susquehanna Writers and The Paranormalists.


Never look back. Clarissa Hartman left her miserable life behind the day she graduated high school, the same day she turned 18. Driving for days, the road led her to Marfa, Texas. Right away, she knew she'd found home. Seven years later, she's found her place in life plus the one thing she never expected to find: love. Dylan Wall's everything she ran away from. So why can't she stay away from him? 

Never give up. Dylan Wall is at the top of his game. His PR firm's sought out by brand name companies, but he's so busy spinning everyone else's reps, he doesn't realize his personal life's taken a downhill turn. Deep down, he knows that somewhere, the perfect someone is waiting for him. The woman who'll accept him for who he is - if he's ever able to reveal it. When he lands in Marfa for his best friend's wedding, Clarissa's sharp tongue puts everything in a different perspective. She draws out a side of himself hidden away for too long. She's everything he wants, in the wrong package. So why does she feel like home? 

In Marfa, appearances are deceptive. Discovering the truth beneath the surface is the first step toward finding yourself, and joy.


I'll admit that this type of novel is not usually what I reach for. But I'll also admit that the cover caught my eye and held it. Ms Masters has crafted a romance to be sure, and one with what could be deemed "typical" characters (a bride, her bestie, a groom, his pal) and a fairly classic set up: bridesmaid and best man meet, clash, then come together. But the entire time I was reading Wedding at Blue Moon Cafe I was so wrapped up in the way the story unfolded I couldn't put it down. The setting was beautifully drawn, so well that I could picture myself there. The characters were similarly crafted, coming to life in ways that so many "bridesmaid and best man meet then marry" novels simply don't. 

I would recommend this book to anyone who not only enjoys a sweet romance but also to anyone who values a well-crafted story with realistic characters. Yes, this does happen. Thanks to Ms. Masters, Dylan and Clarissa, I think I just might believe that now.

A Liz Five Brew Read!

buy it here:

In between reading I will be editing the first 2 books of my first self publishing adventure: The Love Brothers. I have a couple of covers, an idea for trailer, some thoughts about promo but gotta get that 3rd book written! There is a Pre-published page on Goodreads for LOVE GARAGE (book 1) and the one for COACH LOVE will be coming soon! 
Cover Reveal party and gala and general confetti tossing is SET for:
November 2, 2014 (a fairly significant date on my personal calendar as well….)

So watch for my upcoming reviews and the Crowe's Nest Renovation Liz Iz  Contractor Chronicle….
make it a great week!

Greetings and happy First Tuesday in August Liz fans (and all you others),

I'm pondering "book trailers" today and would love to know how you feel about them, as readers, authors, and folks seeking new books to enjoy. Do you love them? Even know they exist? Give a rat's ass about them if they are NOT for books already Sooper Dooper Famous?

I ask because in case you did not realize this, they are expensive and time consuming. This is not to say that I don't get a singular, tingly thrill down my spine every time I watch one of mine, but I get the feeling that I'm sort of, um, rubbing one out, if you know what I mean with these things. That is to say, I'm paying my hard earned money to create something that only I will ever truly value.

I would love your thoughts. 
I am going to try the trailer thing again with my upcoming Liz First Self Published Series: The Love Brothers (coming in January/cover reveal soon!)

In the meantime, here are some of the ones that get me all worked up. Go ahead. You know you wanna….

Stewart Realty: Jack & Sara Trilogy

Stewart Realty: Conditional Offer

Stewart Realty: Escalation Clause

Stewart Realty: Mutual Release

And a stand-alone one for Paradise Hops (the old cover, unfortunately)

And for a 1NightStand novella: Turkish Delights

Tell me your thoughts about book trailers….good? bad? mostly for author ego masturbation?
Love ya

warning: NSFW
18 and over only.

HOUSE RULES is part of the What to Read After 50 Shades of Grey Gemstone Collection Part 3!
Buy these 11 novels for just .99 for a limited time here:



This scene falls just before the final chapter of HOUSE RULES and sets the stage for the epic, best selling Stewart Realty saga that begins with Floor Time.


An Exclusive Stewart Realty Extra Scene

By Liz Crowe 

All Rights reserved.

The Blonde Client

Jack sighed and wiped at the sweat that had gathered on the back of his neck. The day had proven unseasonably warm for late April. He had toyed with cancelling this last listing appointment at the tag end of a very long day of appointments, closings, showings and varying levels of bullshit paperwork at his desk in the main Stewart Realty office on Ann Arbor’s north side. He had more listings than he knew what to do with at the moment and had considered hiring a second assistant in the last few days. He did not need this listing. But the inner competitor in him wouldn’t allow him to pass up at least the opportunity to see the place.

Resisting the urge to tug his tie loose, he climbed out of his car and took a long, deep breath. The house was a non-descript tri-level. No different than a third of them in this sixties built popular neighborhood on Ann Arbor’s southwest side. But the builders had had a reputation for superior quality that had held through the years, and so despite having a nearly unworkable, practical floor plan, the place was in many ways superior to ninety percent of the crappy, generic, three thousand square foot two-stories that had been tossed together in the last decade or so on the city’s outskirts.

He squared his shoulders and made an attempt to settle himself. He had no real reason to be so keyed up. He’d just surpassed the Stewart Realty sales record for the second time, and had more money in the bank than he’d ever imagined possible. His own Burns Park renovation project was done, and he now lived in his dream house, complete with man cave ideal basement, gourmet kitchen, and fully equipped master suite, all completed to his exact specifications, and much of it constructed with his own two hands. He lived alone of course. He had his pick of women in five different real estate offices, plus the many who peopled his email and text message inbox. While the whole BDSM scene had gone sour on him for a lot of reasons, it turned out that having the odd somewhat vanilla sexual encounter in empty houses or emptied out realtor offices suited him quite well, thanks. As long as he did not have to bring them home, to his bed, or wake up with them in his space the next morning.

Jack shot his cuffs and narrowed his eyes at the various deferred maintenance items on the house, readying his game face for the coming hour or so of convincing a random housewife to let him list her mother-in-law’s pile of bricks and vinyl siding in one of Ann Arbor’s choicest neighborhoods. He’d sell the damn thing inside of a week. The trick was snatching the five or eight new buyer clients he wanted along the way.

He stuck his hands down in his trouser pockets as he waited for Missus Desperate Daughter-In-Law to answer the doorbell. He never brought a dog-and-pony show for listing appointments. He would listen, allowing his mind to drift to all the things the house needed done while the potential seller would explain all the various “updates” they’d done. Then he’d take a tour, mentally noting deficiencies and problems and finally he’d take control of the kitchen table conversation, making sure said target understood that he, Jack Gordon, was the one and only real estate pro who could effectively handle their “unique situation.”

Jesus. Everybody thought they had a unique situation. If only they knew how much their situation was not that. But he could handle it, no matter what. He never took notes, or shoved some sort of lame ass power point in their faces. He had himself, his eyes, his facial expression and his laser-sharp memory. And his impeccable powers of convincing follow-up.

He smiled at his own awesomeness, and then focused on the woman who’d just opened the door to him. He blinked, just to clear his vision and make sure he was seeing correctly.

“Hi, Jack, right?”

The woman was tall, slender, attractive and dressed in a short black skirt and simple cream blouse and camisole. Her long, light blonde hair fell in rich gold curls around her shoulders. He licked his lips and held out his right hand without a word. She took it. At that moment, Jack knew he had this powder puff listing in the bag.

She gave him the tour. He took in the horrific gold and green bathrooms, the basement paneling, the dated HVAC, and the somewhat saggy roof and her amazing ass the entire time. When they wound up in the kitchen he turned to her with his best, thousand-watt grin.

“This looks great. There are some things I’ll want you to address before we throw it open to the public though. Let’s go have a seat and talk about it.” He held out a hand. The woman stared at it a half second, and let her gaze travel blatantly up his suit-coated arm, across his wide shoulders and to his own eyes. Her full lips turned up in the sort of grin that made his scalp tingle. He cleared his throat, and let himself touch her, just her elbow of course, as he guided her into the shag-carpeted horror of a living room on the upper level.

She sat. He sat next to her and leaned forward, pretending to be deep in thought and let her soak in his quiet for a few minutes. The situation could go one of two ways, he figured, but at that moment, the sexy, older, blonde woman’s aura was impinging on his and making him flat out horny. He repressed it, channeling it, unwilling to let her have the upper hand. She sat back, crossing her long, tanned, bare legs in front of his eyes. He grinned. He loved it when a woman knew what she wanted. And this one did, he could feel all up and down his spinal column.

“I’ve met with three other realtors,” she said, letting her backless high heel dangle as she swung her leg ever so slightly. “You’re the last one I’m interviewing.”

Jack did not miss the emphasis on that last word. He turned his head to look at her. The woman’s color was high, her long blonde hair swept up into a messy sort of thing on top of her head. She was staring right at him.

“Well, I expect I’ll make your short list,” he said, shifting ever so slightly so his thigh touched hers. He turned his torso so as to take in the full measure of her tall, thin, perfection. She was forty five if she was a day but the best sort of preserved maturity. She grinned and cocked her head at him.

“Are you flirting with me, or do you always pull the full frontal charm thing with potential women clients?”

“Yes,” Jack said, leaning back and putting his hand on her upper thigh. A shock wave shot through him. She put her hand over his.

“Good,” she said. “I like it when a man wants to work for it.”

He raised an eyebrow at her, but could feel it in his bones that he was about to not only snag a primo listing, he was also gonna get epically laid. He tightened his grip on her leg, loving the play of muscles under his palm, and slid his hand higher until it was under her skirt, his fingertips skirting the edges of her panties.

“I’m not that easy,” she said, making him look up into her snapping blue eyes. “Jack.”

“Oh,” he said in a whisper, his body hardening and his mind going a little numb, already calculating if they should fuck on the shag carpet or on grandma’s couch. He cared little either way at this point. She sucked in a breath and un-crossed her legs, giving him the access he wanted. He leaned forward, slanting his mouth over hers, loving her taste and the way her pussy warmed his fingers. His brain went into a familiar shut-down, the small noises of satisfaction she made and her lusty odor suffusing his senses. “Something tells me you might be,” he muttered, breathless, as he broke their kiss.

She tugged him down over her, using his tie as leverage and had his belt unbuckled and his zipper down in an eye blink. He loomed over her, unsure but eager at the same time, shoving aside her easy-access camisole and latching onto one huge, rock-hard nipple as he kept up his finger work down below, drawing the most delicious and groan-inducing orgasm from her on her mother-in-law’s smelly couch.

She cupped his face with one hand after she’d stopped shuddering and moaning. When she reached down to grip his aching cock, he shivered, wondering what the hell he was doing right now, but wiling to go with it. He grinned and bit her fingertip.

“Get up, luscious,” he said, tugging her to her feet and kissing her as he walked them into the dated, sixties nightmare of a kitchen and down the few steps into the wood paneled family room. She tugged at him, teasing him and her kisses were all sorts of perfect. The family room had a better carpet anyway, he recalled as he guided them there, lowering her down onto it and licking his way up from her ankles, taking a moment each time to latch onto her clit, sucking hard and making her squeal and her hips buck into his face before crawling up between her legs and staring into her face.

“Got a condom I assume,” she said, making him admire her even more.

“Of course,” he said, taking a second to pull his wallet out of the inner pocket of the suit coat that he still wore.

She took it and rolled it over his length quickly before arching her back, giving him a mouth-watering view of her ripe, ready body. “Fuck me Jack,” she said, staring up at him. “Please?”

“Well, I hate to disappoint such a lovely lady,” he said, dropping down over her and angling his hips, as regret draped over his consciousness.

What in the hell was he doing? He just met this crazy woman. This was a very bad plan.

“Oh…Jesus,” he groaned when she wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him in.  Closing his eyes as he pounded into her, meeting her thrusts, groaning with her, he berated himself even as he came with a loud cry of satisfaction, relishing the way her body seemed perfectly matched to his, pulsing and clutching at his dick just as he released.

They lay gasping for breath, entwined on the ugly orange shag carpet of a sixties-era family room. Jack could already sense himself withdrawing from her. But she sighed and tugged him close so he kissed her, already concocting excuses so he wouldn’t have to do anything else with her, like get a drink, or worse, take her home to his house that night.

“Okay, where do I sign?” she asked into his lips.

He grinned and disentangled himself, feeling somewhat sordid, but a whole lot victorious. “I’ve got the contract in the car,” he said, tugging off the condom, pulling up his never-quite-shed trousers and buckling his belt as she got slowly to her feet. “Wait right here.”

As he stepped out into the cooling, late April Michigan evening, his head was clear thanks to the monster orgasm but his heart pounded in a way that alarmed him.

Was this what he’d been reduced to? Fucking his way into great listings?  He grabbed his laptop from the backseat and straightened up, catching sight of her…of…oh shit what in the hell was her name? He grinned, gave her a little wave, and trotted back to the door.

“All right then,” he said, shouldering past her and trying to retrieve the woman’s damn name from his addled memory banks.  “Let’s get this done shall we?”

She sat at the dining room table, staring at him in a somewhat proprietary way. He cleared his throat, cursing his own weakness when she leaned forward, her bare foot teasing his thigh and making him want to fuck her all over again.

“So, Vanessa,” he said, relieved that her name had popped into his consciousness. Her grin made him congratulate himself and think that maybe he’d play this one out a bit, see what else they could conjure between them before he moved on to whatever he had waiting for him around life’s next corner. “Let’s sign your listing contract.”

She watched as he fired up his laptop and highlighted the e-signature boxes at the bottom of page one. He blinked, waiting and fully expecting her to add her initials here, sign her full name there and then drop to her knees for an epic blowjob. His ever-ready cock was already hardening in anticipation.

But she just sat, swinging her slim leg and eyeballing him. His chest tightened in frustration but he kept his smile fixed in place, leaning towards her just enough to remind her of their little close encounter in the next room.

“I think,” she said, inspecting her perfect manicure before pinning him with an ice-blue stare that probably rivaled his own. “I want to sleep on this. I met a really nice lady realtor yesterday. She had me convinced but I wanted to keep my scheduled appointments so, you know, I kept ours today.” Her half lidded eyes met his. He frowned and started to speak but she put her cool fingertips over his lips. “Don’t worry Jack,” she purred, as she gripped his thigh a little harder than was absolutely necessary. “You made a lovely first impression. I think I just might need an encore. Like, you know, a date. Dinner, dancing, wine, that sort of thing? So you don’t get the wrong impression of me.”

“I, uh, thought this was your mother-in-law’s house,” he said, cursing himself for sounding like a stuttering dumbass even as his eyes were drawn into her cleavage.

Smooth, very smooth, you numb nuts.

She chuckled and leaned back in her chair, keeping her gaze on his. He bit back the urge to lunge forward and yank her up by the hair, then force her down to her knees where he wanted her. Shutting his eyes against that impulse, he took a long breath. She was in his space then, lips near his, hand on his still rigid zipper.

“Oh sweetie, don’t be mad,” she whispered, as her tongue flicked out and touched his lips. “Although you are cute when you’re flustered.”

He stood up, glaring at her. She sat there, completely in control of herself and her surroundings.

Yeah, you gave her what she wanted, you colossal idiot, he thought, noting that she was a pretty brittle around the edges. But his body was already betraying him, pushing him forward. He put his hands on the arms of her chair, keeping his lips hovering over hers, trying to snag the tenuous control over the highly charged situation and pull it back into his realm.

“All right, Vanessa,” he said, before standing back up without kissing her and snapping the laptop closed. Gratified that she looked miffed at his snub, he tucked the device under his arm. “Dinner it is. Pick your favorite place and text me. I’ve got to get on with my evening.” With that, he turned on his heel and headed for the front door, stopping at the last minute to look at her. “Which lady realtor,” he asked. “Someone from my company, I assume.”

Vanessa remained seated, looking satisfied, which gave him a jolting buzz of pleasure.  She flicked her fingers dismissively. “Oh, um, Sara I think her name was.”

Jack narrowed his eyes, trying very hard not to launch himself across the room at the woman and fuck her until he couldn’t walk, if for no other reason than to drown out the clanging gong of underlying dissatisfaction in his own head. “Sara, huh? Well, tell her you’ve already chosen your new favorite realtor,” he said with a grin and wink before heading out the front door.

The End.