GLOVES ~ a lusty short (But not in the way you wish) "Pleeeeeeeease, Billy, pleeeeeease...."

Himself grotesquely disfigured in a car wreck, the visitor was easily the most beautiful woman eighteen-year-old Billy had ever seen, and before the story ends, he will get her to touch him, no matter the cost.

TOUCH... We all take it for granted, but this one-night visitor to Billy's aunt's B&B covers her skin to prevent it. Covered from head to ankle in skin-hugging lace, it was difficult to imagine the meaning behind her every strange move and the odd behavior of her male companion. It wasn't long before Billy began his investigation and discovered he wanted her to touch him in the worst possibly way. Even if it turned out, she might not even be human.

“Billy, pleeeease….” she cooed, her eyes sorrowful, her glistening lips begging me to surrender. “It hurts me not to touch. It hurts me.”



GLOVES by Ellen C. Maze, 99 cents on Kindle

EXCERPT:

About the time I got to my own story, Edna’s voice trickled up announcing dinner; I was supposed to help serve. I stood and Roxanne followed suit.

“Wait,” she said and took a step closer. “Wait…” she whispered the second time and lifted leather-wrapped fingers to my eye-level. Oh, I wished those fingers would touch me. “Wait, just a moment, please…” whispering again, and begging, as I’d heard through the wall earlier. My follicles reacted to the sensation of her touch as she moved the curls aside and then stroked, once, twice, three times, without ever touching my scalp. What and why didn’t matter, only that she didn’t stop. Then an insane phrase came out of my mouth.

“You can touch me, Roxanne. It’s okay.” I stood only inches away and when the words left my mouth, a look crossed her face that I’d never before seen. Was it exhilaration? Joy? Perverse fear? I think it was all three.

Roxanne withdrew her fingers and right under my nose, I watched her slowly, no—provocatively—slip the glove from her hand. Oh, yes, she was about to touch me. I made an effort to bend my knees so I wouldn’t pass out.

      “Billy, where should I touch you?”
       Choices? What did it matter where? Just do it! My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth and I wished I had telepathy.
       Her manicured pale fingers moved toward my hairline and an electric buzz coursed to my head as if attracted by her touch. She moaned the instant her fingers made contact, and I fell in love with her mouth.
      Then I lost consciousness.

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