Chapter 1

I sat alone at my usual table, completely absorbed in the flashing flex of my fingers across the keyboard of my laptop, oblivious to the surrounding din of casual chat and coffeehouse sounds; my thoughts were focussed entirely on the flow of words from my brain as I struggled to write the pictures in my mind.

Lena leaned in closer to Aidan, her slender fingers trailing up the length of his strongly muscled leg; his cock twitched as her touch approached, anticipating her caress...

"Hello," his voice was low-pitched and dripping with charm; I looked up from my screen, blinking furiously, trying to focus. "Hi, so sorry to interrupt but I just had to come over and talk to you. Mind if I sit down?"

I shook my head automatically, still slightly stunned at being torn cruelly from my work. Across the table the blond-haired stranger seated himself and smiled broadly at me. He was lucky he was cute, because I felt almost murderous. My smile was faked.

"I don't usually do things like this," he continued quickly, pulling my empty teacup towards himself and pouring from the fresh pot he'd brought to the table, his movements were smooth, studied, and precise. My anger was slowly being replaced by my insatiable writer's curiosity; just who the hell was he and what the hell did he want?

"It's Earl Grey," he explained, pushing my now full teacup back my direction. "The girl at the counter said that's what you drink."

I nodded, watching wordlessly as he poured himself a cup as well, fixing his tea with the same brisk efficiency with which he poured it.

"I'm Douglas Meredith," he said, flashing me a white-toothed smile. "It's nice to meet you. I really hope you don't mind me introducing myself."

I shook my head, again automatically. For years it had been my job to be nice to people, but since I'd quit the 9-to-5 rat race three months ago to write full-time, I'm afraid my social skills had become a little rusty.

"I'm in here every day before my shift and after," he explained, continuing smoothly on in the face of my stunned silence. "And I see you here all the time. So the last time that happened I decided that the next time I'd approach you, buy you a cup of tea, and ask you what you were writing, because you always seem so into it; I'm just dying of curiosity about you."

I sat open-mouthed as he talked on.

"My friends keep telling me I need to stop obsessing myself with the mysterious girls I meet and just settle down with someone nice and normal, but where's the fun in that, huh?" His laughter was husky, and this time I smiled almost genuinely, caught by the infectious sound. I ignored the fact he assumed I wasn't normal.

"But there's just something about you sitting here, working away on that damn thing," he gestured towards my laptop; the screensaver had come on and I closed the lid with a gentle click. "That piques my curiosity. So maybe some day I'll settle down with that nice, normal girl; but in the meantime I just have to know you who are."

Laugher bubbled up in my chest unbidden. I'd never had such a whirlwind conversation with anyone in my life. My head reeled as he leaned across the table and smiled broadly at me again; his eyes were a dark, cerulean blue with little crinkly lines around them. He looked tired, but happy. My own sense of curiosity was buzzing behind my annoyance.

"Well," I said slowly, watching warily as his smile never faltered, "it's nice to meet you Douglas, I'm Imogen Wallis."

"Imogen," he rolled my name around his tongue like he was tasting something foreign; his handsome face was unsure. "I like that."

"Thanks," I laughed. I'd heard every odd response to my even odder name over the years.

"So," he asked, looking suddenly like a very earnest boy, "what are you writing."

I took a long sip of my tea; it was excellent, as always. I couldn't help the sly smile that stole across my face. "I write fiction."

"Really? That's wonderful! What kind of fiction?" Douglas' handsome eyes were brightly blue.

"What do you do for a living?" I asked softly, watching as his face lit up with pride.

"I'm a doctor," Douglas smiled.

"Really? That's wonderful!" I echoed. "What kind of doctor?"

"Paediatrics," Douglas said; the look on his face was so happy I instantly knew he was very aware of how good at it he was. "I work down the street." He gestured in the general direction of the local children's hospital, which had a stellar reputation; I was mildly impressed and he knew it.

"That's lovely, Douglas," I smiled politely. I was really very happy for him, but Lena and Aidan were floating about the periphery of my mind and in mid-coitus; I had to finish the chapter before I lost it. "Good luck with that. Thanks for the tea." I flipped my laptop open, scrolling down to where the half-filled page of writing mocked me.

"Can I read it?" Douglas asked brightly. "I'm sure it's very good. Are you published?"

I sighed, resisting the urge to growl with frustration. "Not yet," I said quietly. "I'm trying to make my first deadline, actually."

"Oh!" Douglas chirruped happily. "How's that going for you?"

I clenched my teeth and prayed for patience. "Not very well, I'm afraid."

"Ah well, it's not like its brain surgery!"

I plastered a simpering smile on my face as Douglas chuckled, overly pleased with his own joke.

"So, can I read it?"

I sighed resignedly. "Sure," I said and I spun my laptop around to face him.

Aidan watched silently as she rode him, her long blond hair lashing against his thighs as she threw her head back with abandon. The muscles of her pussy gripped him tightly, massaging his generous length with determined vigour.

"Ah, Lena," he gasped with pleasure, "you're so fucking tight." He reached forward and strummed her clit quickly, feeling each spasm of her enjoyment all the way down to his toes.

"And you're so big," she sighed in response, moving slower atop him, relishing in every stroke of cock within her, sensing her orgasm approaching. "You're going to make me come."

Douglas turned my laptop back towards me, his face pale; he stood up abruptly, unable to hide the growing bulge in his chinos or the look of revulsion on his face. "That's disgusting," he spat out, giving me a dirty look. I hitched my chin up another notch and smiled sweetly as he stormed away, brushing rudely past other patrons on his rush to the door.

"Actually," said a smooth, dark voice from over my shoulder. "I think it's great."

I spun about in my chair so fast I just about fell off of it; seated at the table behind me was a dark-haired man with a week's worth of scruffy beard and a sexy smirk. I glared at him.

"I mean, she's obviously enjoying Aidan very much, that's just the way it should be. Personally, I love it when the woman is on top."

My eyes just about popped out of my head; around me the noise in the room waxed and waned and I sat in shocked silence.

"I- I'm sorry," I stammered, blushing. "Were you reading over my shoulder?"

"Might have been," the dark-haired man shrugged, brushing a wayward lock of shaggy hair out of his eyes; I tried to ignore the fact they were very nice eyes, just the colour of melted milk chocolate.

"I- I... I can't believe you would do that!" I cried; my embarrassment morphed into anger. "What I'm writing is none of your business!"

"Even if I like it?" He smiled crookedly and I fought the urge to smile back. I had to remember that I was mad at his invasion of my privacy, even if he was complementing my writing. Every writer loves a complement and the look in his eyes told me he knew it.

"Y-you like it?" I asked, hating how unsure of myself I sounded.

"Yeah, it's hot. But you forgot a semi-colon about a half-dozen paragraphs back, just when Aidan is reaching for Lena's bountiful breasts for the first time. Plus I think you might have spelled fellatio wrong on page thirty-seven."

I slammed my laptop shut, ignoring the curious looks of people at the surrounding tables as I stood, throwing my laptop and notes into my bag. My violent movements spilled my tea and sent my teaspoon clattering across the floor with a musical tinkle.

"You're an asshole, you know that?" I muttered savagely, trying not to attract any more attention. I scooped up my jacket and bag with a flourish and turned sharply, desperate to put as much distance between me and the dark-haired stranger as possible.

"Imogen, wait!" he called as I threw open the door to the street. I apologized softly as I bumped into a lady on the sidewalk before concentrating all my energy into putting one foot in the front of the other as quickly as possible.

"Wait!" I could hear his approaching footsteps on the pavement behind me. Tears welled up as I frantically prayed for my short legs to move faster; I all but broke out into a run. "Wait, please." He grabbed my arm, and I yelled at the contact, jerking fiercely from his grasp.

"Leave me the fuck alone!" I shouted, all too aware as passers-by starting giving us a wide berth; just what did is say about society when they all ignored as I was accosted in the street?

"Please Imogen," he pleaded, releasing my arm. He looked sad and slightly guilty. I fumed. "I'm sorry, I couldn't help it."