CONTENTS INCLUDE STEAMING STARING CONTESTS FROM Janine Ashbless Sommer Marsden Charlotte Stein Lisette Ashton David Hawthorne Rachel Kramer Bussel Elizabeth Coldwell Morwenna Drake Heather Towne and Chrissie Bentley... and here's a tiny excerpt from a little tale that I called Revenge....
I picked up a cue, stroked my fingers down the shaft. "So, Billy boy, fancy having your ass whupped tonight?"
"Yeah, right." I could feel his little ferrety eyes boring into my cleavage, and I braced my back just a little, to give him a better view.
"Come on. One frame, and I'll tell you what. Winner takes all." I raised one leg, put my foot on the edge of the table. "And I mean all," I smiled, and felt all five pairs of eyes staring into my crotch.
"Go on, Bill, you can take her," one of his cronies smirked. "And then you can take her again. Come on, she's offering it to you on a plate."
Bill was stupid, but he wasn't dumb. "Yeah, but I don't trust her. She's up to something."
"You reckon? Or maybe you're just chicken." I picked up a ball from the table, balanced it on my palm, then traced a fingertip lightly across it.
"Chicken? Around you? Fuck off, Witch Bitch. I just don't trust you, that's all."
"Yeah, you might turn him into a frog or something." That was Butch.
"I might turn you back into a human being if you don't watch yourself," I snapped back, and there was a laugh from the others, despite themselves. "So Bill, are you game? I'll even let you break."
Bill still looked doubtful, but things had gone too far for him to back out. His pride depended upon it. "Okay. But you heard her, guys. Winner takes all. And I warn you, Witch Bitch, I don't go lightly on anyone."
"I wouldn't expect you to, champ," I cooed. "But I'll warn you. Neither do I."
I'll say one thing for Bill. He's not a bad pool player. Unfortunately for him, neither am I. Three years hanging with completely the wrong sort of guy (or so my folks used to complain, when I came home with hickies all over my neck) teaches you a lot of tricks, and playing pool is one of them. So bang-bang-bang and the game was over before Bill was even warmed up.
I stood silently, still stroking my cue; Bill just glowered, while his disciples watched him uncertainly. The guy's an asshole, and he has an asshole's temper. But tonight he simply shrugged. "Luck. The balls lined up for you. You probably put a hex on them or something." It's funny, he ripped seven shades of shit out of me for being a witch, but he certainly didn't have any problem believing it.
"Maybe I did," I smiled. "But tell you what. We'll play again, and this time, no tricks, no hexes. You up for it?"
Again he looked uncertain; again it was the nudging and nods of his crowd that made him back down. "Okay. But someone, get me a drink first." "Get me one, too," I snapped. "Pernod and ice, not too much ice."
"She even drinks like a fucking witch," I heard Butch growl. "What the fuck's Pernod?" My God, where do these people come from?
This game went much the same as the last, except this time, Bill barely got started. You know what it's like when every shot you take is the right one, and you've got the ball ricocheting off the cushions, knocking everything down that it's meant to? Even I was surprised how easy it was, and the look on Bill's face was just priceless.
"Okay, so winner takes all, right?" I leaned the cue against the table, walked around to where Bill was standing. It was funny, but his crowd all stepped away as I approached, lining up against the wall like they were scared I was going to eat them or something. Which, had they only known, was sort of what I had in mind. But first, I was going to have my fun.
"Okay, all of you, into the Ladies."
"Not if you don't go into the Ladies, you won't!"
"You're shitting us, right?" Bill had a bit of his old swagger back, although I could see he was still unsure of himself. But I smiled and turned the corner, down the corridor to the bathroom. Behind me, I could hear the others following me.
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Eleven scalding tales of lust and love in the halls of public learning - the town library!
The sex is hot, but the librarians are hotter, as authors Chrissie Bentley and Jenny Swallows reveal the lip-smacking truth about what goes on behind (and on top of, and around as well) the bookshelves.