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  Naughty Bedtime Stories:

  In Three Words

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, including photocopying, recording, or transmitted by any means without written consent of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Characters, establishments, names, companies, organizations, and events were created by the author. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, companies or organizations is coincidental.

  Published by Hot Ink Press

  Text Copyright 2015 held by CHBB Publishing and the Individual Authors

  Edited by Olivia Harper

  Cover by Rue Volley

  Naughty Bedtime Stories:

  In Three Words

  Aurelia Fray, Rue Volley, Lily Luchesi, H.G. Lynch,

  Xyla Turner, Alexis D. Craig, Sabina Bundgaard,

  Kinzie Rose and Josephine Ballowe

  Published by Hot Ink Press

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Tonight. Tomorrow. Forever. – Aurelia Fray

  Room 13 – Rue Volley

  Have No Fears – Lily Luchesi

  The Toybox – H.G. Lynch

  Anywhere But Here – Alexis D. Craig

  You’re Worth It – Xyla Turner

  Rock and Roll – Sabina Bundgaard

  One – A Poem by Kinzie Rose

  In Three Words – A Poem by Josephine Ballowe

  Tonight. Tomorrow. Forever.

  Aurelia Fray

  The clock struck five. The working day finally done, she stood, tucked her chair in tightly to her desk and exited her cubicle. At the staff office, she nodded and smiled at the other men and women packing up for the day. They were strangers to her but familiar ones; their faces as known to her as her own.

  Turning the dial on her locker, the click and thunk resounded as the thin mental door sprung open to reveal her drab grey coat and handbag. These were a uniform of sorts; things she wore to fit in with the masses on the mind-numbing commute to the city. Behind these hid a thin, black, plastic carrier bag. Just the sight of it pimpled her skin.

  She lifted the bag down from the hook and held it tightly to her chest. The contents were so important to her that she dared not let the bag out of her sight. Even leaving it in the locker for the day had her on pins and needles. If anything happened to the contents inside, she would be destroyed.

  With the bag clutched tight within her grasp, she walked swiftly on light feet. Her heart thrummed a staccato beat, a soldier’s march within her breast.

  The crammed elevator was filled to bursting point, people crammed together desperate to leave the building and their mundane work behind. The need for the sanctuary of home was a universal desire for these people. To be able to relax, unwind, crawl into comfortable clothes and snuggle up to a significant other is what made the grind worthwhile. Sweet nights were the salve to hard days.

  Normally she would wait until the crowds dissipated but not today. Today there was an excitable urgency within her. She had somewhere to be.

  The smell of stale sweat permeated the elevator car. She sagged against the side wall to escape the cling of stink and boredom. No one spoke. No one made eye contact. No one acknowledged they were alive. They did not know that they were living, beautiful creatures.

  As soon as the elevator came to a juddering halt and the doors slid open, she stepped out onto the marble floor of the grand foyer. She was not the first, nor the last. She followed the throng through the main doors and out into the fresh summer afternoon. The full flaring beam of sunlight blinded her for a moment. The scent of heated paving assaulted her. A nice day clearly came and went whilst she sat in her windowless cubby. She wasn't bitter. The loss was not so great.

  Her hand shot up to hail a taxi. The yellow sign clicked to a dull grey as the cabby turned off the light and pulled over to the side of the road.

  "Where to?"

  "The Renfrew Hotel, please."

  He drove in silence. The sound of his radio was white noise, a subtle irritation tapping away at the back of her mind. She fumbled in her handbag for his fee and for the hotel booking confirmation that she printed out yesterday.

  As they drove, she thought over a mental checklist, things to do and not to do, things to say, things to take, how to look, what to wear. She knew all of the answers to her own questions by heart. She had been preparing for tonight for months. Nothing had been left to chance. She had it all in hand. She knew this despite her worrying.

  But the butterflies had her now.

  Their incessant flapping twisted and churned her stomach in that pleasant-not-pleasant way. The only way to settle them was to assure them that she knew what she was doing. Her lists eased the nerves.

  The cab driver must have seen the inner struggle within her eyes because he didn't try to strike up a conversation. When they arrived at the grand entrance of the illustrious hotel, his voice remained soft and sympathetic. He told her his fee. He offered a sympathetic glance of understanding as he took her money, causing her to wonder just how he came to read her mood so well.

  The answer found her in the form of her reflection in the flawless glass of the hotel door. She had been crying.

  The fact that she hadn’t noticed was an indication of the seriousness of her obsession. She thought she was over the pain of this. Well, maybe not over it; it had become an old friend to her over the last four years. A familiar comfort like a favorite sweater or that dog-eared book you just can't bear to throw away.

  She let the hurt linger for a moment more and then pushed it back into the crooked cracks between her heart and her soul.

  A doorman smiled kindly at her as he swept the heavy glass door open. Her voice sounded timid and strange as she thanked him. There was no energy in her response, only the emptiness of words unfelt. And yet, her heart hammered in her chest and her fingers tingled from her death-grip on the plastic bag.

  At the front desk, she was met by a young male. It took a moment before he looked up at her but when he eventually did, it was clear he recognized her.

  "Ms. Cauldwell! How lovely to see you again!"

  She nodded and offered him a soft "hello." She wasn't sure how she felt about being memorable. It was wrong somehow.

  "I helped you with your broken heel last time you were here," he explained reading the mien of confusion upon her face. She had forgotten all about that, but now that he reminded her she easily recalled the sweet faced boy the front desk sent up to collect her heels for fixing. She tried to remember his name and failed.

  "Ah yes. You were like lightening. I don't think I have ever had a shoe heeled so quickly."

  "We have someone in-house that does it. Anyway what can I do for you today?"

  "I have a reservation."

  He tapped the keyboard, his fingers dancing swiftly. "Got it. Here is your key and your guest is waiting for you in the bar."

  "He’s what? He’s early."

  "Would you like me to call the bar and let him know you have arrived?"

  "No! Um no, thank you. Could you have someone give him this for me please? It must go straight to him. It’s urgent. Also could you make sure he has a key to the room?"

  "Of course, Ms. Cauldwell."

  She handed over the bag. Her fingers trembled as she let it go. She itched to take it back but the young man handed it to another no-named employee and it disappeared, whisked away toward the bar.

  She rushed to the room knowing she
had only minutes before he arrived and her evening began. As soon as the door closed behind her, she ran a bath. Pouring in a silken blend of aromatic oils, she watched as the bubbles swelled to fill the tub with iridescent light and the soft calming fragrance of jasmine.

  Once ready, she returned to the room and undressed, folding her clothing neatly and placing them on the solo chair in the corner. She wore only her lingerie, black lace and silk stockings with tightly snapped suspenders and her string of pearls. A gift from him. With only seconds left until their agreed time, she fixed her hair behind her ear and turned her back to the door.

  This was their routine. This was what she knew. Her way to remember.

  The door clicked and opened behind her. She waited for his opening line. Only when he said it would the show begin. Her knees weak, she breathed in, deep and true. The breath of air filled the otherwise silent room, confessing both her fear and her resolve. He took his time. She could almost feel him at the door, his eyes trained upon her. His gaze was as potent as any fingertip caress. It stroked and heated, invaded and claimed her.

  Then he spoke.

  "I have missed you, Andrea."

  It was not the agreed line. Andrea refused to face him. Her back stiffened slightly, unsure of why he was deviating from the script.

  He took a deep breath and blew it out on the saddest of sighs.

  "I am home, Andie bear," he said finally. Andrea allowed the budding tears to fall. This is what she was waiting for. Him. Finally him.

  She spun around and felt the breath knocked out of her at the sight of him. Six feet tall, soft blonde hair that was greying slightly at the temples, a day’s worth of stubble growth because he knew how much she liked that whenever he came home to her. His uniform is perfectly pressed. The insignia show his rank and tell her that his absences from her life are for a reason; for a cause. He is a hero. Her warrior returned from war.

  "I have missed you too, Jamie."

  His shoulders sagged as she said his name. Andrea tried to dismiss it but it rippled her beloved illusion and caused them both to hesitate.

  "You look gift-wrapped my love," he continued. His voice lacked Jamie’s usual passion. Andrea continued regardless.

  "Of course I do! I am your homecoming present. Would you like to unwrap me?"

  "You never need to ask." That time Jamie's response was more genuine. He wanted her. Andrea walked toward him and took his hat from his hands. She placed it on the bedside cabinet and then stepped into the bathroom so that Jamie could follow her.

  “Let’s take your uniform off. You are mine tonight my love. Not the army's."

  He remained silent as she diligently removed his clothing. Careful—ever so careful—with it. She would break if anything happened to it.

  He sat on the edge of the roll-top tub and waited patiently whilst she folded and removed his uniform to the other room. She sat it beside her own clothing, where it belonged. When she returned there was a sadness within her. A moment of weakness and doubt where the illusion fluttered before her eyes, ready to break should she let it.

  She dared not let it.

  Andrea approached him. He ran his hand through the water to test the temperature and smiled. "It is perfect, Andie bear."

  She nodded and stepped closer. His hands reached out to pull her nearer. She let him. She quivered as his huge hands stroked the back of her stocking covered thighs, just above her knees and then swept up to unclip the suspenders she wore. He rolled each silken black stocking down and off as she stepped out of them. Next the suspender belt was removed, so that his hands could linger at her breasts. They were not as pert or firm as they once were; four years had seen her age from Jamie's young wife to a lonely middle-aged woman, but he appreciated her nonetheless. His gleaming eyes and hungry gaze attested to that. She allowed him to remove her lace bra, where he bestowed a loving kiss upon each rigid nipple. Lastly, he slipped his hands low, his fingers sliding beneath her panties to kneed the soft flesh of her derriere. His face pressed kisses to her abdomen sending ripples of sweet heat to her very center.

  She wanted more. She always wanted more but the script was iron and fire and needed to be obeyed. She felt his lips move against her skin as he slid her panties slowly down until they lay disregarded at her feet. She did not hear the words he spoke, a small blessing for which she was thankful. They were not part of the plan.

  Jamie lifted his head away, his eyes capturing hers. They were too blue in the stark light of the bathroom. They should be green but Andrea was forced to compromise on this little detail in order to accommodate the fantasy. She squeezed her eyes shut, recalled the bright green irises she loved, irises flecked with purple and brown and seemed filled with the stars of heaven. When she opened hers again Jamie was once more before her.

  "Into the bath, Andie bear. I want to soak you in." He climbed in and pushed himself to the back of the tub, then held out his hand to help her get in. She settled carefully against him with his body bracing hers. She had missed this. It had been a whole year since she last felt this safe. This loved.

  As always with their routine, Andrea could feel his erection proud and firm between their bodies. She said nothing but reveled in the glow of his desire for her.

  "Will you?" She asked, holding out a soft sponge to him. He took it and soaked it in the bath before running it across her body. The warm water caressed her flesh.

  "Of course," he rumbled. She could feel his words move through his chest. "Tell me how you’ve been. What have you done whilst I've been gone?"

  "I have a new job. I hate it but it pays the bills. My mother divorced her second husband, although I think that was already on the cards when we last spoke?"

  "Yes. You mentioned that they were not getting along."

  "Hmm. I think my new boss has a thing for me." She laughed making light of the confession but the stiffening in her shoulder betrayed her concern for how Jamie would feel about this news. She hadn't meant to say it out loud. This part of the evening was somewhat unscripted and they often fell into dangerous territory.

  "Have you thought about it?"

  "About what?"

  "About fucking him, Andrea?" he said derisively. She had hurt his feelings so he hurt hers even though it wasn't her intention. Andrea turned herself to face him.

  "You above all people know I would never—" she began but he stopped her words with his lips. His kiss was ferocious. Full of anger and bitterness, he thrust his tongue into her mouth and sought acceptance there. She stilled unable to respond.

  "Perhaps you should," he whispered sadly as he pulled his mouth away from her unyielding one. She fought against her desire to look at him. She stared instead down at his dusky nipple. Small and perfectly round, it stood erect against the gentle spray of blond hair on his chest.

  "You have been busy then," he commented, quickly picking back up where the fantasy left off.

  "I have. It is easier to be busy than miss you," she replied, returning to her original position with her back against his chest. All thoughts of his kiss and their near argument were pushed aside so that their shared fantasy could resume.

  "My world is empty without you in it, Andie bear. You know how much it breaks my heart to be without you, but you also know why I have to go."

  "I do. I am proud of you Jamie. I know who I married." She gulped hard at the lump in her throat. This part felt so raw. She wondered whether she would ever manage to get through these evenings without reliving the pain along with the ache of love she felt for this man. She braced herself.

  "I love you, Andie bear. I love you for the girl that swept me off my feet. For the woman that taught me how to love. For being the home I return to and the peace in the middle of this war. I love you for the woman you are, for the mother you will become and for the years I will have to grow old with you."

  Andrea couldn't be stop the tears from falling but what stunned her most was the fact that he wept too. She felt the droplets as they fell against her brow
. He had never wept before. In all the years they had played this fantasy memory out, he never once cried.

  It broke her heart all over again.

  "Stop!" She sobbed, the word sounding contorted and wrong. "Stop. We are done for today."

  "Andrea, we are almost done. There’s only a little more. Let me give this to you," he begged, his hand shooting up to flick away the evidence of his sorrow.

  "No. I can't. I can’t. I am so sorry but we can do better next year. This is enough for now." Andrea pulled herself out of the tub and reached for a towel to wrap around her nakedness. Usually he left whilst in the scene, but being here with him outside of it felt strange. Forbidden.

  He stood up and climbed out of the tub, moving so that he faced her. His hands reached up to cup her face but she flinched away uncomfortable with such an intimacy.

  "I won't be back next year," he stated. His words were cold but his eyes burned with a yearning that Andrea had been lacking for so long.

  "You've said that before but you always come."

  "Not this time. I mean it. I won't help you to torture yourself anymore. This is wrong on so many levels and I should have stopped it that very first time you asked me to come here and do this. I always thought it was strange but you said it would help you heal."

  "It does."

  "No. It breaks you anew every time. He is dead Andrea. Jamie is dead. He left you that following morning and never came home. I am sorry sweetheart truly I am. But you need to see that reliving your last night with him—making this sick anniversary out of it—is killing you."

  "Good. I am not really living without him anyway."

  "You are right. You're not. But you could."

  "I don't—"

  "Don’t you get it Andrea? I knew this was wrong that very first time. I never wanted to experience that kind of grief again, or watch you experience it."

  "But you always came back."