Monday, May 10, 2010

Binary Stars Vol 4--Performance Review/Spank by D. Musgrave and Nona Wesley

Mark stared at a distant spot miles beyond the computer screen. Days after his performance review, fragments of the aftermath continued to float through his mind. Had he been too eager to leave his last job? Had he been so blinded by his friendship with Bill that he couldn’t see him and his wife, Lisa for what they really were? One thing he was very sure of: he’d done everything he could to make this current situation work.


As owners of Advanced Progressive Machining, Bill and Lisa had given him an ultimatum: commit to the company or find a new job. His pulse pounded in his temples. Lisa’s grating, shrill voice still rang in his ears. How could he put up with her for another day, let alone several years? He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, hoping to push the throbbing headache away.

It didn’t work.

What had she said while they all sat around the conference table, her with that sneer, and Bill leaning back in his chair smiling as if he’d just won the lottery? “We need a long-term commitment from you. We’re thinking that twenty years is a reasonable request.”

Reasonable—for whom?

He remembered his shock and anger at their gall—or was it stupidity, or both? Whatever the name, or reason, he couldn’t agree to their terms. Not to twenty years—and especially not if they weren’t willing to put the agreement in writing. A two-year contract was one thing, but twenty? Verbally? With no reciprocating commitment from them? Did they think he was that stupid?

When Monday came around, they’d asked him for his decision. He had lied, and told them yes, he would commit to them and give them the best he could. He hoped it would buy him a little more time to be selective in finding a new job, so he wouldn’t have to take the first one that came along. He’d spent most of the last week calling his business contacts, and he knew that it would be just a matter of days before he’d have another offer. He’d decided to show them that he could run the company, be the general manager they’d hired, to show them his worth to the company, but not tell them he had made up his mind to leave.

He shook his head and tried to focus on the project he was supposed to be quoting and scheduling. Turning, he looked over his shoulder and saw Bill sitting at his desk. Mark couldn’t believe how they’d misled him. Not once in the initial interviews had they mentioned any commitments beyond the normal two to five years. Even Bill, who’d always come across as a realistic, if not understanding guy, had surprised Mark with his sudden change in attitude. Once Lisa turned the review negative, he’d jumped in and piled on.

Mark gritted his teeth so hard his jaws ached. He felt trapped—again. He hadn’t realized how much he hated working in an open office area, without even the modest privacy of cubicle walls, until he’d taken this job. What made it worse was his desk had been positioned in such a way that his back faced the room, and anyone could walk up behind him. He felt exposed. It seemed as if they didn’t trust him to work alone and had to see what he was doing at any given moment. Apparently, twenty-five years in the business wasn’t long enough to prove he knew the job, at least in their eyes.

As bad as all that was, the most difficult thing he had to handle was Lisa’s arrogant holier-than-thou attitude. She strutted around, spouting Bible verses like a smarmy televangelist, but when a problem arose she was the first one to spew a tirade of cuss words that would make a trucker blush. The hypocrisy of it all made Mark sick.

Turning back to the paperwork on his desk, the same questions repeated themselves for the thousandth time: had he subconsciously denied the obvious signs that should have been red flags when it came to justifying his move to a new job? Could this all have somehow been his fault?

He came to the same realization he had every time he played it over in his mind. He couldn’t change what had happened. He had to learn from his mistakes and move on. Pushing away from his desk, Mark left the office to get some air. The urge to lash out surged. He knew that if he opened his mouth, he wouldn’t stop until he was fired before he had any hope of lining up another offer.

He walked out of the main office and entered the shop, hoping to find some peace among the dull roar of the CNC machining centers. That didn’t happen. It was lunchtime and all the equipment sat idle. Mark sighed and wandered from machine to machine, pretending to check the status of the jobs in the shop. He didn’t want to tip his hand by not appearing interested in the output of the shop, especially to Lisa.

As he thumbed through a stack of papers, Mark heard a thump coming from the direction of the storage room on the mezzanine. He set the paperwork down and moved closer to the stairs. The thud repeated itself and he heard a muffled moan. He wasn’t completely sure, but the voice sounded like Dylan’s, the shop foreman. Concerned, Mark rushed up the steps, thinking him hurt.

At the top he stopped, frozen in place. Inside the tiny room was Dylan, but he wasn’t hurt, or alone. He leaned against a stack of boxes with his pants around his ankles. Lisa was on her knees in front of him with a fistful of the shop foreman’s cock in her hand and a thin line of saliva connecting her lower lip to the head of his cock.

He must have made some noise, because she then looked up at Mark with a wide-eyed gasp. He saw several things in that brief moment—fear, shock, and—unexpectedly—relief. That last facet shocked him the most. He stood in the doorway, staring at the woman who’d bragged incessantly about teaching Sunday school. Now, she was simply a woman with a drool-covered cock in her fist, a cock that didn’t belong to her husband. Most surprising, she didn’t seem mortified at his catching her.

Dumbfounded, Mark didn’t know what to do. Finally, he turned around and walked down the stairs as though in a trance. The last thing on Earth he’d expected to see was Lisa giving the shop foreman a blowjob.

Embrace The Moment by Mahalia Levey

Chapter One


0300 Hours-On the coast of Laguna Beach, CA

“This is Ryan Corban for Channel Nine news with a breaking story. At three-thirty this afternoon, a Cessna type plane crashed thirty miles off the Laguna Coast. The craft called in a mayday after being struck by debris on their starboard engine. The Coast Guard was called out and responded by deploying an eighty-seven foot schooner as well as a helicopter…one second please. We’re receiving more information from the reporter on site.”

“We’ve been informed that two of the three passengers have been located. Unfortunately they are not alive. What a traumatic night for Laguna Beach. The occupants of the Cessna plane were two teenagers and a pilot.” He put his fingers on his earpiece to receive incoming information and nodded. “Wait. I have just been informed there are no survivors. The third passenger has been found. Yes, the pilot and two teen students were killed. Confirmation has come through. Resuscitation on one of the teens has failed. Their identities at this time are withheld until family members can be notified. With Channel Nine News, this is Ryan Corban.”

* * * *

1700 Hours-USCG Sector, San Diego

Lieutenant Junior Grade Lark Maddox surveyed her team. “No cigars tonight, fellas. Remember, some we win, some we lose. Anytime a plane crashes the chances of survival decreases. Get your reports completed and get home. As always, let the local police handle the press. If anyone contacts you transfer them to the local authorities. If they prove to be crass direct them to public affairs who will deal with them tomorrow.” Her four team members were wet and appeared exhausted. She turned to the one nearest to her. “McCall, make sure you go get that cut on your head looked at.” As senior officer, Lark remained in control. Even when coping with difficult issues, she played the part well. Her face remained a stoic façade of impenetrable stone. Being the highest ranking woman on the team, she had to show she wouldn’t break, that she held the same backbone of her male counterparts.

“Done.” Petty Officer Second Class Phoenix McCall slapped the papers onto her desk.

“Dismissed,” she replied curtly and turned toward Seaman Jarius Nelson. “Seaman Nelson, please feel free to use the resources of the base. This rescue being your first loss, no one would think any less of you if you need sickbay or the base therapist. Well done for maintaining your control down there. At times, it’s not easy to do that in the face of things out of our control.” She offered him a rare smile.

“Thank you, ma’am.” He handed her his report. “But I’ll be fine, if it’s all the same.”

Lark took in the wariness of his appearance. He had proven to do well on their team. “Have a good night’s rest.” She watched him grasp the edge of his sailors cap, rolling it with shaky fingers as he walked out of the office.

Lark put her hands behind her back in a relaxed stance while waiting for her last team member to finish with his report. Numerous papers littered her desk. Approaching the piles, she riffled through and placed them in order and began, with quiet resolve, to sign each one.

Everyone processed the success or failure of a rescue in their own fashion. Not every life was saved, and to her surprise, after being assigned for two years to her current rescue team, the losses affected her less each time. She paused to wonder if that was a bad thing, the ability to distance one’s self from the harsh realities of life. Known for being a calculating cold bitch wasn’t the impression she wanted to leave people with.

Master Chief Acer Davidson walked over and placed his reports on the desk. Had anyone else been in the room, they would’ve observed the surreptitious touch that barely skimmed the Lieutenant’s hand as the papers thumped onto the wood. “You need to avoid mollycoddling the newbies.” He leaned back against the desk and crossed his arms, stifling a yawn.

“I’m responsible for the psychological needs of the crew as well as their physical well-being while on duty. As such, you are hardly within your rights to imply that I cannot do my job or instruct me on proper proficiencies.” With a flick of her wrist the folder shut. Once the documents were put under lock and key she looked up at his chiseled face. “Do I look like an idiot?”

“Not in the least, Lieutenant.” His reply was terse.

“Good, then remember, not only did I go to college, but I was a civilian rescue swimmer as well. Master Chief or not, your position is below me, and while I will consider useful information, I will not tolerate a loose tongue. You’re dismissed Master Chief Davidson.” Grabbing her bag, she left the small office and headed to her off-base condo.

God, she knew how her exaggerated bossiness pissed Acer off. The sixty-four-thousand-dollar question was how and when he’d take his payback. Such an act toward him would result in his need to dominate her. His calloused hands on her soft skin, taking out his ire, the incentive stimulated her already throbbing sex. By the time Lark parked her car and gazed toward her quarters, arousal weighed heavy within her.

She locked the car and walked with quiet assurance toward her door. For the first time in her life, someone finally got her, understood the woman she came to be. They’d enmeshed in a clandestine relationship after she’d joined the team her first year. However, with his rank and her own, her needs for happily ever after came last. She may not get the dream, but she got the man. Acer. And that had to be enough. She thought of how good he looked and sighed. Only she knew what was housed under that confining military uniform.

Half of a smile transfixed her face. She remembered the one time she got him to break down and speak of his father’s death. She’d seen a glimpse of the lost little boy within him before he sucked the pain back in and blanketed his rage. Witnessing the man she loved torn apart hurt her. His inability to move forward put an unspoken void between them so deep her heart ached for what they’d never share. A relationship would mean they’d have more. There would be a definite future as a couple. The realization that could never happen had been a bitter pill to swallow.

Every time she brought up his family life after that, Acer distanced himself even farther from her. It crushed her that he knew all about her unpleasant childhood, the childhood she kept hidden from everyone else. He’d listened and held her, accepting her past and yet she still wouldn’t get the dream of a future.

* * * *

His sour mood hadn’t resolved after an hour of trying to cool off. Letting himself into her house, a sound in the other room caught his attention. Running water, the intelligent woman was taking a bath. A tsk left Acer’s mouth. She knew damn better.

Vanilla and jasmine musk scented the air as he walked to the master bedroom with quiet footsteps. He kept on alert, and entered without the slightest noise. Bent over the tub, clad in a fluffy towel, the view of her delectable thigh peeking out the edge greeted him.

“Who gave you permission to run bathwater?” Acer pushed the towel up and whacked his palm over her heart-shaped cheeks.

Lark jumped and nearly fell into the hot water. A stain flushed her face. “I––I didn’t think you were coming.”

“Who gave you permission to think?” A second strike crashed down on her welted flesh.

“No one.” She bit her lip.

“No one?”

“Sir,” she replied huskily and brought a hand back to caress her reddened skin.

“Ahh, ahh, ahh.” He saw his warm breath cause her skin to tremor. “Did you think I was going to let you speak to me like that? Did you dare to imagine you’d do so without repercussion?”

Lark groaned. “I am your boss.”

“You like to think that. Who’s boss now?” Silence hung in the air–-a dare for her to answer him.

“I am,” her voice wobbled but she held her ground.

“Wrong.” He sat down on the divan opposite the tub and. draped her over his lap, getting a glimpse of her wide blue eyes filled with desire and anticipation of the unknown. Her body quaked over his thighs, and he inhaled the delicious scent of aroused sex. His cock throbbed. Soon enough he’d be buried in that wet heat. Three slaps later she had yet to give him a sufficient reply to his question.

“You hit like a girl.” Lark wiggled on his lap dangerously close to his growing erection. “You want me to bow to you out of the office, but it won’t happen. I rule over you. A small woman is your boss. The woman you’ve tried to break time and again.” She was so soaked, his taste buds salivated waiting for a taste. Striking his palm to her pink battered skin, a jiggle followed each time he struck and left a prominent handprint. On his thigh trickled the sweet residue of her dew. It tempted him to end the punishment ahead of time. Housing his cock within her dripping sex held enormous appeal. Onward his fingers traversed over her flushed and heated skin. He laughed and held tight to her wriggling ass, keeping her where he wanted her.

“Naughty girl.” Acer chuckled darkly, anticipating her reaction. Instead of striking, he slid his fingers across her lower lips. In lieu of touching her swollen core, he ran his tips against her clit and pinched. “You like that don’t you, my little bitch.”

“I’m no one’s bitch, Acer.”

“We’ll see about that, Lark.” He took pleasure in toying with her drenched pussy lips. “There?” Her groan was music to his ears. “Growing impatient?” He slid his fingers into her pussy. When she clenched down on his digits, it drew a low groan from him. But he maintained his leisure fondling with a smug satisfaction, amused that she could scarcely handle his torture. Never let it be said he wasn’t a kind man. He did as she begged and slid into her, knuckles deep. “Want more?” More of her sweet cream covered his palm. The reaction sent a jolt through his body.

“No touching.” He slapped at her fingers when she tried to accelerate his actions.

His eyes were riveted to her lovely profile, drawn up in passion.

Even with her propped over his leg, Acer could feel her body spasm. “Hot enough yet? Perhaps I should penetrate your pretty pussy now.” He withdrew his fingers and pushed her off his lap onto the pillows laying haphazard on the floor. Zipper down, cock bare, he gripped her hair and dragged her roughly to him. “Wet it with your pretty little tongue.”

He stared down into her lust hazed eyes and drank in her moan. Like an obedient little bitch, the heat of her mouth encased him. His hands nestled into her hair, as his member rested at the back of her throat. He swallowed and closed his eyes. Clenching his teeth, his traitorous body wanted to blow. The effects of her small hands stroking him and her wondrous mouth cascading over his throbbing cock damn near ended his resolve. His tip, engorged with blood, ached. Tightening his grip on her hair he emitted a low hiss when her nails raked across his ball sack prompting him to loosen his rough hold.

Annoyance riddled through him, and from the look of humor on her face, she knew it. Damn her and her laughing eyes. She played the torture game well, with purpose. Sudden cold air hit his pulsating cock, causing it to jerk. Grunting he gripped her hair and pushed back into her mouth. “Feel powerful?” He kept his eyes on her, giving her control for one second, and one second only. He wasn’t let down as she brought him back to near bursting. The sight of his cock disappearing into her mouth built a rage of intense need. Vibrations from her throat drew shudders of breath. Damn near close to panting, control was seconds away from being lost. Acer growled and glared down at her. The smirk on her face said it all. She knew how to bring him and bring him fast.

Without warning, he shifted and picked her up with ease. “You know how I want it. Assume the position.” He slapped her bottom, and helped her attain the desired stance. Proud of the marks still glowing on her thighs, he slid a hand between them and forced them further apart. His cock, wet from her talented mouth, slipped into her decadent pussy.

Acer pushed her head down, bending her from the waist before him. He closed her legs as he covered her from behind and penetrated her at an unhurried pace. Her mewl like noises compelled him to drive into her harder. Sounds of skin slapping skin echoed around them. He grinned at her whimpers. When she pushed back against him he clenched his jaw and pounded faster.

His hands held her hips close to his pelvis. Heat, tight muscle, and soft skin wrapped around him wringing a groan of pleasure from his lips. He closed his eyes and brought a hand around to pinch, to twist her budded nipple. He listened to Lark’s breathing, to the way she hitched softly with each powerful thrust. “Touch yourself,” he ordered.

Excited, he oversaw Lark’s progress through the bathroom mirror as she put a shaky hand to her core, her regulation correct nails tapped against her drenched clit. Hearing soft sobs leave her mouth he let out a ragged breath. “Want more?” Acer’s cock jerked when her hand grazed him. He liked the thought of her reaching back to drag a finger up and down her feminine folds. The wetness from her hit his pelvis, astonishing him with its intense heat. His sense of smell picked up the faint sweet odor of her sex. She was so tight for him, he slapped her ass and withdrew, only momentarily, then he let that honeycomb slick entrance drag him into her core, the core that housed her womb.

Acer laughed, watching her squirm as his sweat-slicked body dominated her sweet pussy beyond reproach. Her soft screams he silenced with each surge. When she made too much noise he stopped completely, not giving her what she wanted till she stilled and quieted. He grabbed her by the neck and pushed her down. “Touch those toes Lark, and don’t stumble and fall or I’ll stop without letting you climax.” By the time he was done with her she’d be too sexed up to think or utter coherent sounds. Her tongue would trip leaving her enunciation sounding scatter brained. He relished that only he could bring her to that level.

Acer fanned his hands over her lower back, and halted her movements while he pummeled her core. In tune to her needs he held her quivering body relishing in her inability to move back or run. He grinned and slid out of her, about to tease her past the breaking point. His eyes roamed over her as he listened for her next shallow breath to slam full force into her. He could feel her hand tweaking her clit and chuckled.

“Want to climax baby?” He hit in her with piston movements, entwining his fingers with hers. To him there was nothing sexier than a woman playing with her own body while being taken. He groaned and hastened and moved…jerked the closer he came.

He heard her cry out, “I’m your bitch—God you’re killing me,” and smirked. His heavy ball sack hit her quaking skin. The motion caused his scrotum to tighten. Acer watched as her arousal became visible in her expression. He could feel her body tremble with frustration as he held off, waiting to make her orgasm.

“Now!”

As she coated him with her cream and her cries of relief filled the room, only then did he succumb and fill her body with his seed. Heartbeat raging, chest heaving, a guttural growl ripped from his mouth. He shook from her firm grip on him, sucking him, keeping him encased inside her wet velvet.

“So you’re my bitch?” His lip curled up in a smile. “What I’d give for you to say that at work.” He slid out of her body and leaned back on the divan. He loved how she crawled next to him breathless from their climax, and stroked her wet hair with a calming gentleness.

. His body sang with relief. “Great outlet you have there,” he teased with a light nature. Her forlorn expression startled him. Normally after sex she relaxed, acted content. Her pleading eyes and the way her teeth tugged at her bottom lip when something bothered her warned him to be wary.

“It’s been two years, Ace. I need more than this.”

“Don’t ruin tonight with your mouth, Lark.” He dropped his hand from her hair. “In the beginning, after we started, I told you not to get your hopes up. Not to pine for something I would never give you. My mind hasn’t changed.”

“Fuck Acer, you’re not your father on dangerous missions. I’m not your mother. Why not? “

“You’re an officer and I’m enlisted. I don’t care to take the commission test, Lark. I will never get married. Take me as I am or leave me.” He moved off the divan. “Every time you bring it up makes me think we should end our relationship.”

“What relationship?”

“Fuck it, Lark. Is this how you want to end us? We could go to the brig for this.” His gaze caught the pattern of water dripping off her body as she washed up in front of the his and her sinks.

“Things change. People develop emotions over time. I love you. Doesn’t it matter?”

“I didn’t ask for your love, damn it! I want what we’ve had the past two years and nothing more.” The time bomb that had been brewing exploded. He snarled in anger and a tick in his jaw became more pronounced, as he waited for her to push more constraints on him.

“Just go, Acer. Just go. This is the last time.” Her voice cracked.

He glared at her and yanked his clothes off the floor, unable to take her soft sobs, or stare at her body without taking her again.

Enraged, he slammed the bathroom door as he exited. The same bullshit guilt trip thrown in his face for the past few months drove him to his only conclusion. It was time to leave her the hell alone. Like that had worked in the past. He snorted and pulled on his boots. She knew the score from day one. She just needed a little time to come to her senses again. Then he’d remind her how good they had it. The last sound he left her with was the front door closing with a loud boom, only so he could drown out the sounds of her soul breaking sobs.

Picture Perfect by Jack Greene

Ashton didn’t remember how he first found the dive. He’d stumbled in one dismal Tuesday night after yet another ten-hour day of selling BMWs had sapped his will to live. He couldn’t face going home just yet, so he decided to have just one drink to stave off the inevitable.


A half-burnt out neon sign flickered outside, doing a pathetic job of coaxing in clientele. From the exterior, he’d expected the typical bar—sleazy, busty blonde waitresses and soft porn pinups, but the décor was surprisingly tasteful. But, when his eyes adjusted to the gloom, he’d become pleasantly surprised. The interior looked much better than the exterior. Low lighting made the place look almost romantic.

A long bar dominated one wall, with intimate booths arranged around two other walls. A small stage and a dance floor, neither currently occupied, took up the far end of the room. There were a surprising number of customers, and half the stools at the bar were occupied. It was hard to see how many of the booths were taken, but the place felt cozy and comfortable. The servers seemed to be attractive but fully clothed.

He made his way toward the bar, glancing up at the flat screen television hanging behind it. Instead of the expected sports program, there seemed to be one of those reality talent shows on, and the people gathered near it loudly critiqued the current performer.

The bartender, a tall, willowy young man, kept good-naturedly shushing the customers. “I’m trying to hear this!” The crowd would quiet for a moment, but erupt again at the slightest provocation.

It took a few moments before the bartender came to serve him—the next commercial break, in fact, but Ashton didn’t mind. He realized he had been smiling unconsciously as he watched the young man’s obvious delight with the show, awful as it was. When the bartender finally appeared before him, it was with an apologetic smile that Ashton found absolutely charming.

“Sorry, it’s the finals and I forgot to TiVo it,” he said by way of explanation. The young man leaned on the polished bar in front of him, delicate hands folded together. “First drink’s on me ’cause you had to wait.” The younger man’s ink black shoulder length hair framed a face that belonged on a magazine cover, all high sculpted cheekbones and full sensual lips and dark expressive eyes. He wore makeup, but it wasn’t overdone; black eyeliner made him look exotic. His lips were glossy and full.

So that was his introduction to Hayden. Ashton insisted on paying for the drink after all, earning him a sweet smile and an offer of his name as he shook one perfectly manicured hand.

* * * *

He’d been coming back to the bar ever since. He told himself it was because the bar was on the way home, or the prices were good, or he just liked the laid-back atmosphere, but really there was only one reason.

That reason made a hell of a dry martini.

The first night he’d come home after visiting the bar, he’d been in such an uncommonly good mood that even his wife noticed, and she never noticed anything. She’d sniffed at him suspiciously, as if searching for a woman’s scent, but only wrinkled her nose.

“You’ve been drinking.”

“Just one. Shitty day,” he’d replied neutrally, loosening his tie.

“So why do you look so happy?”

He shrugged, picking up a pile of mail and browsing through it. “It was a really good martini.”

She finally shook her head and went back to her laptop.

Ashton smiled to himself as he remembered the way Hayden squealed and clapped his hands like butterfly wings when his favorite contestant had survived the cut.

Now, visits became something of a routine. Not every day, but at least once a week he dropped by the bar. Not Sunday or Monday, anymore, though—he’d quickly learned those were Hayden’s days off. The bar seemed much colder and lonelier then. There were definitely fewer people. Everyone loved Hayden, men and women. He was beautiful, but it wasn’t just that. He was the perfect bartender. He remembered people’s drinks, told uproariously funny dirty jokes, and he never seemed anything but upbeat. He charmed everyone.

Especially Ashton, who had never so much as been attracted to another man before. So it was some time before he realized why he couldn’t stop thinking about Hayden.

He wasn’t homophobic, far from it. He’d been raised in a very accepting environment. His mother’s brother was gay and he had no problem with being hit on by men. He would politely turn them down. He’d just never been attracted to a man.

Until Hayden.

Not that he intended to do anything about it, even after a particularly hot dream that had finally convinced him what he actually felt for the pretty man. He was married, however unhappily, and he wasn’t about to throw it all away and switch teams, even though the very sight of Hayden behind that bar put a smile on his lips, or that more and more often he dreamt of him. Those kinds of dreams had him jerking off in the shower the next morning.

It was a silly infatuation, he knew, and he figured it would wear off. He certainly wasn’t about to tell the object of his newfound lust. He wasn’t even sure Hayden remembered his name, though he always knew his drink. Ashton was just one of many customers, and he was content to gaze at Hayden once or twice a week. It didn’t hurt anyone, and sometimes he just drank a soda. Hayden never charged him for that. Hayden was always unfailingly polite and solicitous, but he was like that to all his clientele.

Even if occasionally Ashton fantasized that Hayden smiled a little more widely at him than the others, or batted his long eyelashes a little more…
* * * *