EMBARK ON "A MISSED FLIGHT" - CONTEMPORARY EROTIC FICTION FROM AUTHOR A.H. SCOTT

!!"A MISSED FLIGHT" TAKES OFF!!

Red dress and red stilettos cut through the muddle of bland colors of other travelers heading for their flights.

Pair of gold spherical earrings, gave Nancy’s ears the vision of golden gumdrops on those lobes.

As Nancy approached the TSA area to be checked in, she gazed up at the black and white clock upon the wall.

11:30 was the exact time, as she walked to where two TSA agents were situated.

It was a man and woman.

As Nancy stood there, two thoughts went through her mind. Wally Walrus and Cabbage Patch.

Balding man in his 50’s with dark brown hair had puffy bags under eyes and bushy moustache. Black cap for his uniform sat upon a metal desk in front of them.

As for the female agent, her appearance put a tiny smirk on Nancy’s face. She was a curvy little blonde with blue eyes and short curly hair.

Nancy’s slim frame with long, black hair pulled back into a tight ponytail made her the symbol of control.

Control was one thing which Nancy perpetrated in public. And, this moment was no different for her, “My name is Nancy…”

Black uniforms had a silver nameplate on right breast and black cap with blue lettering which spelled out TSA.

From head to toe, both were dressed in the color of authority and night.

Without letting Nancy finish to give them her last name, the balding male interrupted “…Yes, we know who you are, ma’am”

“How do you know who I am?”... end of excerpt

(...to see just how far TSA will go, pick up a copy of A.H. Scott's just released lyrical flow...)

Strap in for a tempestuous trip from the mind of A.H. Scott.

You can take off without even leaving the ground.

Now Boarding!! Now Boarding!!

This is “A Missed Flight”.

As Nancy saw her flight take off the ground, she thought it was missed. Yet, timing which seemed wrong, actually was perfect all along.

For a certain class of business traveler, pleasure is an unexpected coincidence.

Power trips.

Power shifts.

Ready for take-off?

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........pleasure is an unexpected coincidence.......

FOR YOUR CONSIDERATION: "BUCKETS OF RAIN", A CONSPIRACY THRILLER THAT'S TRULY A KILLER BY A. H. SCOTT

FOR YOUR CONSIDERATION :

Author A.H. Scott Presents "Buckets Of Rain (Book One)"

Danger is closer than you think..........

Murder in a sleepy Michigan town leads to an investigation that uncovers a conspiracy just beneath the cloak of civility.

A couple attacked. Two lives destroyed. Truths become exposed in the harshest way to avoid.

When "Buckets Of Rain" cascade, illusions of secrets in life's blind spots begin to fade.

A.H. Scott pulls the trigger on a thriller that's truly a killer.

Even days when the sun shines brightest, "Buckets Of Rain" fall.

The most dangerous place to be is at the helm of hubris.

Excerpt -

Neither he, nor she knew of any persons that could be considered as enemies, yet this shadow in their lives, operated under the auspices of someone both knew very well. DeeDee's delightful dawn with Tang, became a verification of information that could be desperately desired by a sole person.

Male in late thirties with toothpick motioning back and forth, between his tight lips; made for a slightly frenzied sight to anyone on that road. Black suede jacket, blue tank top and jeans, made for a costume of plainness for him.

Armed with folders full of photographs and written items, this blue car made it's way to a Hoxeyville home. Aromatic flowers and neatly manicured lawn, greeted the solitary visitor of silence. Standing in the stately doorway, this man held several, medium sized packages under his left arm. Nearly one hundred and fifty pounds and height of about six foot, his personage was that of a finely fit pugilist.

Three bells sounded, as a thumb was pressed onto doorbell. Surprised at who greeted this person, it was need for a light phrase, "Must be the maid's day off".

In a single motion of a right hand, the occupant of this home spoke volumes with no words. Leading guest past several rooms on the ground floor, they made their way into a walnut paneled library. Closing double doors behind them, a smile came over this homeowner's face, "Is that what I think it is, sir".

Placing items onto mahogany desk, he replied, "It's more than you could ever expect to have".

"Beautiful place here" ,looking at the lavish decor.

"Come on, sit down and relax" ,chuckling genially at this man in his home, a slightly older male pulled out a chair behind this desk.

Slim fingers slowly tapped that ornate desk, as that wiry body sat down. Hands grasped both arms of this redwood seat, "I should have made my way out to these parts earlier. This is truly a home" ,gazing around this room, his eyes glistened with a sliver of resentment.

"How long have you been in town?"

"Long enough to start on your project".

"How's your father?"

"The old man's like leather" ,gently chuckling, he added soem pepper into the mix, "Tough as hell, but righteous for the right ground".

"And his son, is an admirable sort of lad".

"Coming from you, sir, that's a remark of high regard".

Knowing that time was of the essence, the core of summoning this younger man to his home came forward, "I place my trust in you, Mr. Arrington".

"Ooh, why so formal?"

"Because, this is business" ,a solemn stare came over him, while motioning an index finger towards Arrington.

Speaking of that, sir. I can remember a glorious dialogue you had in my neck of the woods, a while back" ,smirking, he continued, "You spoke about business being more than just dollars and cents".

"Hmm, that's funny, coming from you" ,sitting back in that chair, he chuckled and asked, "If you've learned anything from me, prove it, my boy?"

"Simply put, sir" ,repeating what he'd heard in a previous time, "Blood, sweat, and oh so many tears. It's what makes the machine keep on turning".

Motioning forward, he shook this younger male's right hand and spoke an apt word of praise, "Bulleye!!!"

Hoxeyville's mystery man, Gaylord Victor Arrington, could sit across the desk of a somewhat refined elder and give a smile of perceptiveness. Dark brown hair, slicked back in an almost wet fashion, gave this male of lanky physique a slithery complexion. This Valdosta, Georgia resident had an expertise that this homeowner desired to procure.

Loathing his given first name; propelled him in using the more apt calling card of Victor. The only people that uses Gaylord, remained both parents, which occured at those moments of family tension. Victor was what he wanted to achieve and with the assistance of present benefactor, thus, he would be that conquering namesake.

Born near the Florida border, in Iron City, to Webster Arrington from Rayle and his wife Harriet Cordelia Templar of Camilla, they lived in temperate comfort. Owning combination restaurant and dance hall, since winter of 1940, Bob's BBQ Barn maintained a bustling occupancy in Sylvester, due to it's close location to Turner Air Force Base.

Presently, a specific task was needed to be handled and Victor was more than eager to fulfill any duty. No price was too high and as for any ethical qualms, it took a paltry back seat in Arrington's mobile of arrogance. - End Of Excerpt

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BUCKETS OF RAIN TRAILER -

Watch the trailer on YouTube, titled, "Buckets Of Rain" here: "Buckets Of Rain"

Explore The Worlds Of Author A.H. Scott Across The Web:

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..........strap in and let imagination take flight...............

FOR YOUR CONSIDERATION: "RACK EM", AN INTERNATIONAL MYSTERY OF ROMANCE, TREASURE & PLEASURE BY A.H. SCOTT

FOR YOUR CONSIDERATION:

Author A.H. Scott presents "Rack Em".

Excerpt -

Arlington Cross made a decision that would change the variables on those persons attending that August auction. Down to five people, Cross Collectibles' sale of those treasured items of Manon Balletti might have a higher worth to all whom were invited.

Pulling himself together slowly, Cross made his way back to the company of a pleasurable dinner guest. As the key opened the apartment door lock, he looked around the room.

With her back turned to him, Pao Tse-Ling cheerfully made a greeting, "I was just looking through your musical albums, Arlington. You're a quite devoted listener to the finer melodies of the ages.”

"Pao" His body motioned slowly towards her, as Arlington's sore flesh attempted to project a state of normality. Cross didn't want his dinner guest to unmask the actual physical reality that befell him inside of Cross Collectibles.

Stream of dark brown hair moved as Pao turned to face him, "Arlington?" Wrinkle of concern came across that serene swan, "My God! What happened to you?"

Cross slumped against a cream colored sofa and sighed with sorrow, "Just a little accident, is all,” Playing the strong, romantic lead in this evening's supper with a glistening pearl of China, Arlington put up a brave front for her.

"I'm going to get you something for those bruises,” Feet marched into kitchen, wetting a cloth towel and returning to him, "Just come and sit down on the sofa.”

"I'm fine, Pao,” Shrugging with indifference to being under another human being's care, trying to wave her away.

Tse-Ling wasn't going to take no for an answer, "Cross, now's not the time to play the hero,” Smirking in disbelief over his feign words of feeling fine, honesty drizzled to him, "Putting it bluntly, Arlington; you look like you've been hit by an eighteen-wheeler truck.”

He relented and sat down onto the sofa slowly. Pao began dabbing bloodied flesh with yellow cloth. Wincing from her gentle touch, Arlington wished he'd gone to the hospital for a check-up before coming home, "Oh, ouch!"

"Don't worry, Arlington,” Tenderly whispering to this wounded eagle, she placed the towel onto the cherry wood, coffee table, "You're in good hands.”

"Such gentle hands, Pao,” clasping her hand within his, gratitude gloriously flowed, "Thank you for caring.”

Rising upward, Pao Tse-Ling snickered downward, "Oh, this isn't being done especially for you, Cross. Even if you weren't the man whose auction will place those sweet gems into mine,” Left index finger began to outline his face slightly, "I wouldn't wish any being to hurt.”

Sore right hand wandered up to her left and held it to be kissed once, "Benign and beautiful. What more can anyone expect from you, Pao Tse-Ling?"

"Arlington, you might just be surprised" Pao bent down towards him and returned that smooch to Cross "Moments of mirth" When those tender lips met his, Tse-Ling was slightly taken aback by her own actions.. She was a woman who'd previously shied away from displaying affection. Alas, with Arlington Cross, motion and emotion took hold of Pao.

In an attempt to stand up, Pao Tse-Ling placed both hands onto the table edge and head towards that coffee table.

Arlington touched Tse-Ling’s soft, right hand, "Pao? Don't do that" Trying to seize those movements by her.

"Do what?” She could not look him in the eyes, as a sprinkle of shame washed over her. Pao Tse-Ling had taken a step over the line of interludes and interactions with a business associate.

"Don't hide your desires,” Wishing to have those lovely, brown eyes to look into his once more, Cross caressed this woman's shoulders, "Joy comes in the twinkle of your eyes looking into mine, Pao.”

Flattery warmed her, as she turned to face the Texas tornado, "You are quite an extraordinary man, Arlington Cross.”

"As you are a brilliant bijou of rare quintessence,” though still in obvious pain, he stood upright with this gentle gem in his arms, "A woman with a kind heart, can heal any wound.”

"Including yours?” Chuckling in a mixture of concern and relief over this turn of events on a Vancouver evening, Pao Tse-Ling cradled his left arm in hers.

"Without heaven's doubt,” physically not on the surest of footing, this man remained erect. His tussle with Moss became just a bitter figment of moments past; "An angel touches me, right now.”

"If I am an angel, Arlington,” Tse-Ling's slim fingers tapped along Cross’s chest tenderly, "Then you should consider the moon and stars my necklace.”

Reaching down and pecking that soft hand, Arlington became quite bashful in Pao's presence. Embracing and locking lips, both knew this evening would turn out very differently than they'd planned.

Arlington's bedroom may have not been a palatial location that his guest was used to. But, it contained a singular item of unimaginable grandeur, a large bed.

Black comforter with white and red swiggle design across it came to be an invitation to a tango of oncoming temptation.

Canvas shoes of green, made tiny steps across the bedroom floor, "So, this is the alchemist's arena?" Ling's mouth formed a grin at Cross, as his left hand slid the light switch upward.

On the left side of the bedroom, a bureau of dark red color had several things lying on its counter. Comb, brush, square mirror, and a pile of papers, made for a messy sight to any visitor.

The bedroom's opposite side had a brown trunk with copper fixtures upon it. And, an oak table situated directly next to it. Topping this structure was a turntable with a glistening sliver of vintage vinyl.

Arlington Cross selected an apt tune for the evening's premiere performance. Album on turntable, he placed silver arm and needle into its minute groove.

Frank Sinatra's tempered tone and Nelson Riddle's orchestration gave breath to this maudlin sliver of wax from 1958. Seven tiered diamonds next to Sinatra's face of Pagliacci regret, gave any person lucky enough to hear these fourteen tracks a twisted heartstring. First movement began to fill this Vancouver bedroom with "Frank Sinatra Sings for Only the Lonely.”

Concept albums of varied artists were just another chic sprinkle of diamond dust atop the world of collectible's dealer Arlington Cross. Trinket treasures being sold onto the Canadian and international markets nicely twinned to glistening gems of melodious magic.

Sounds of Sinatra's soul wrapped around Arlington Cross, as a memory of Pao Tse-Ling's lips reminded him of a sunny day in May. Even standing in his bedroom on a warm August night, she was a special being that brought a moment of bliss to Arlington.

Motioning around to face his guest, he was greeted with a wonderful sight, "Oh, my.”

Pao Tse-Ling's emerald dress floated downward, as manicured fingernails unzipped it. Bra and panties of sea-foam hue, gave that silky skin the wrapping of a jade treasure.

Slowly making his way towards her, Cross’s hands waved against delicate shoulders, "Behold, a gem in my lair.”

"One which cannot wait for a humble jeweler's stamp of certification,” Head stretched upward in a kiss to this wounded man, Tse-Ling whispered, "An inspection by you, would be more than suitable,” Using a bit more strength than usual, Pao pushed him into a seated position, "You just let me handle you, Mr. Cross.”

Thrill of making love to Ling, vanished in an instant of throbbing discomfort within bruised flesh, "But, Pao, I'm not,” Arlington began to think about his ability to satisfy this woman on a Vancouver summer night.

"Cross, you're a man in need of healing. Let me tend to you, tonight,” Handling him with care, she ran fingers through his mixed hair and calmly remarked, "I can't make the bruises go away,” Circling thumbs lightly on Arlington's forehead, "But, I'll try to minimize the pain.”

Becoming more relaxed with every rounding of a thumb on forehead, Cross chuckled ever so slightly, "Hmm. And, how are you going to do that, m'lady?"

Reaching down and unbuttoning his shirt, she slowly revealed that right shoulder into the light. Mixed colors of red and bluish green took up a space of about the size of two American half dollars. Brown eyes viewed this unpleasant sight of soreness, as a slight silence overtook her. Pao's cape of charm returned to full flourish within seconds.

"Like this,” Light pink lips tapped along the periphery of that shoulder, making a final touch with tongue tip at its bull's-eye, "This also, kind lord,” Mouth moved from shoulder to side of neck, as a trio of smooches met their target of Tse-Ling’s desire, "I want you to lay down for me, Arlington.”

Being tended to with such gentleness, Cross couldn't resist a little needling of this beauty in his midst, "It's nice to hear the pearl wants to take control of this night's situation.”

"It's not for my need, Mr. Cross.” Without a doubt aroused by him, Pao Tse-Ling had another reason to get this man onto a bed. "It's for the benefit of you.” Watching him laying flat on that bed, the explanation became clearer, "To relax your muscles.” Taking his shoes off and placing them under the bed, as he laid on powder blue sheets.

Laying there in black pants and socks alone, Arlington's stomach revealed a bruise the size of a Bosc pear, a quarter of an inch from his navel, "You could relax the knottiest enigma known to man, Pao.”

Bending her body over him, Ling licked that fruit shaped sore spot on Cross’s flesh, "Every knot can be untangled,” Starting to unbuckle his belt, pleasure would be theirs for the night, "Just relax and let me show you just how gentle I can be.”

Small hands worked zipper and charmed a cock out of white boxers. Pants off and boxers tossed onto a chair in the corner left Cross wearing socks alone. Each exhale of his awakening cock in her mouth, gave Pao a power over Arlington. He grasped comforter with childish glee and howled, "That's so good.”

"I hope so, Arlington,” Continual sucking of cock and caring for those balls, she knew he was ready for the next stage of healing. Taking bra off in a quick unhooking, Pao's palms rubbed against her breasts. With every motion over those nipples, they came to attention for her.

In this army of arousal, all of this woman's arsenal would be used for conquering him. Light green panties were twirled around left index finger and flicked onto the chair that held his boxers. Pao's flesh soaked in the light and a man's gaze of desire.

Mounting him lightly, she wiggled about on that suddenly throbbing piece of meat. His cock became consumed beneath a warm slot of sweet essence. Feathery fantasy atop of him, took Arlington to a place he'd thought was beyond his clasp. Tse-Ling's cooing and supple snarling added to this duo's titillation.

Playfully nibbling on his left ear caused a rigid cock to bang her pussy even harder. It was just the effect she desired most. Pao's pinky nails began to dig into her mate's sides, getting another reaction of heightened excitement from him.

Arlington Cross could feel a river building inside of himself, as its rapids raced to culmination. Pao Tse-Ling didn't wish to wait any longer for him to ejaculate. A trick of tawdry wares appeared in her actions with him.

Back arched slightly backward, those painted nails reached behind her bare ass and firmly squeezed those spongy sapphires of manhood. Cross moaned in a stew of ecstasy and minute agony. As Pao silently counted the number of ten, his balls were freed from a clinging grasp of fingers.

He was almost there. Yet, the moment was incomplete. She would make it happen, one way or another.

Cock cramming into dripping pussy several more times over those following moments, caused both to howl in lustful joy. Tse-Ling's expansive membrane of pleasure moved back and forth with him inside of her.

Light as air, Pao moved off of him and knelt on the edge of that bed. Waiting for him to explode, pink lips opened and closed slowly.

He came. And, she was the recipient of his life-stream against her quivering bottom lip. Kneeling there, Pao was a masterpiece of sensuality.

Arlington's sore flesh had been blunted by a turbulent fuck in that apartment. Tse-Ling's care was just what Cross needed.

Ancient secrets and techniques that Pao Tse-Ling used on many partners came from several memorized pillow books that she reenacted.

Papyrus to rice paper, and parchment to gold leaf, those tender fingers handled many a journal of decadence. Demure eyes of dark brown widened with every fluttering of a delicate lash, while consuming those varied expressions of imagery.

Aspects from Asia, invoked a special place in Pao's mesmerized mind and prickling pussy.

Becoming an aficionado of Shibari and Shunga didn't hurt the image of a world wise woman of countless coital compasses.

Ropes could bind flesh of a willing soul. Yet, also free oneself onto a roundabout of rapture. Escalation of ecstasy occurred with every tightened twist of twine around a limb or torso. Suspension by restraint always remained one of Pao’s propitious positions. Those venerable procedures in divine darkness were Pao's private vocation of victorious arousal.

She smiled and dressed in under ten minutes, as he sat up in that bed, "Pao, don't leave.”

Zipping green sleeveless dress upward, Ling fixed her hair to a proper appearance, "Oh, Cross. You need to get your sleep, sir. My work here is done for tonight.”

"Maybe you can stay until morning,” Slighting covering satisfied staff with portion of a blue sheet, this happy man was full of joy for her.

"Ah, Arlington,” Brushing left hand over his face, those brown eyes twinkled, "Predictability can be boring.”

How appropriate that final track of “Gone with the Wind" was, for this pretty pigeon was about to fly Arlington's finely feathered nest. Fathoming how right she was with that statement, he began to chuckle, "And, Pao, you are anything but that,” feeling romance was about to fly away from his fingertips.

A musical zenith tracked this evening's events, as Sinatra's final song titled "Gone with the Wind" seemed to fit this moment. Sounds of the orchestra behind Francis Albert filled the bedroom, as this pretty pigeon was about to fly out of Arlington's finely feathered nest. "And, Pao, you are anything but that" Cross understood what she meant by her words, as a twinge of romantic regret came over him. Bird of affection was about to take flight from his fingertips.

Nursing Arlington Cross back to health was the honorable thing to do by Pao Tse-Ling, "You need your rest,” that same virtue, also came into play of her business dealings with this antique dealer. She did have her own reason to get this man on his feet again, "And, besides I want you to be in top form for the auction, dear Arlington.”

After the run in with Moss earlier, he was relieved that Isaac would no longer be in Vancouver for an upcoming event, "When will I see you again?"

Her left hand tapped against the bedroom doorframe, as she grinned and faced him, "The 13th's coming up. You shall see me then,” Reveling in this man's attentive ways with her, Pao conveyed concern to a still sore Arlington, "Take care of yourself, Cross,” Hand waved in exit, "Good night, Arlington.”

Saying farewell, Pao Tse-Ling was out of that apartment within moments. Remaining seated on his bed, Cross heard the front door close behind a refined ruby of warm whispers and light touch.

Album finished, as did midnight's minuet of a jade jewel in the palm of Arlington's hands....- End Of Excerpt Romance Is Beyond The Bounds Of Time....

From a simple action in 1758 France, Manon was a woman who sacrificed her glittering bobbles to get a lover out of prison.

Seems like something so innocuous to lead to a modern day mystery. Yet, her name was Manon Balletti. And, the man who held her heart was known more famously by his last name - Casanova...

A.H. Scott sets the game of life on edge in the pages of "Rack Em".

In the world of international auctions, a Vancouver antiques dealer is at the center of an erotic & exotic quest for treasures from a pair of fated lovers of centuries gone by.

Global gains and ignoble games are the field which varied characters play upon in this contemporary romantic thriller.

Never had danger touched his life before. But, mystery landed on antique dealer, Arlington Cross' doorstep with the upcoming auction of some fabled objects of romance.

Captivating treasures from centuries prior have led many on a desperate sojourn to a Vancouver auction house. They all want their hands on these prized possessions of a passionate pair of lovers from long ago. Yet, some of the buyers have tricks of temptation up their silky sleeves.

When lust mixes with greed are just one of the balls that roll across the felt table of "Rack Em".

Rack romance. Rack treasure. Rack history. Rack pleasure.

Rack your nerves.

"Rack Em".

Purchase A.H. Scott's "Rack Em" for 99 cents at Amazon Worldwide & Smashwords :

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View the trailer for "Rack Em" here: Romance Is Beyond The Bounds Of Time - "Rack Em"

.......unlock Casanova's spell....

FOR YOUR CONSIDERATION: "OVER MY HEAD", A CONTEMPORARY ROMANCE OF SPICE & SPARKS

FOR YOUR CONSIDERATION :

Author A.H. Scott presents a contemporary romance with spice and sparks of suspense. This is "Over My Head".

"What may appear as a simple seduction of a wife into a web of a husband's secret, takes turns that the reader will never see coming. When you think this novel is winding down, it's actually revving up onto a hidden highway of twists and revelations. No one gets out of this life without paying a price. A wife. A husband. A lover. Sex. Money. Power. Lies. Obsession. Murder. Devotion is at the heart of "Over My Head". Devotion comes in many shades. And, what you will find in the pages of my novel is that my characters sacrifice many things for devotion - including themselves. Devotion came in a single kiss.." - A.H. Scott

In this novel set in Wisconsin, a husband's debt becomes a wife's gamble. What begins as a bargain of assisting a spouse with a problem, takes a woman down a rocky road of self reflection, desire and unraveling events from the past. Question is: Can a secret from the past stay submerged forever? Find the answer in the pages of A.H. Scott's "Over My Head".

Please enjoy an extended excerpt from my novel, "Over My Head".

Excerpt Description : An afternoon delight becomes a nightmare in blue....

Excerpt : ....As Angela arrived at the Eight Ball on July 31st, a seated Gennaro Esposito greeted her on a barstool outside of Nicholas Bell's office. Dressed in mint colored silk shirt, forest green slacks, and black leather belt with gold buckle, Espo looked at Chase with a smile and Winston dangling from lips, "Angela, you're looking quite fine, today".

"Is he in, Espo?"

Shifting himself off that barstool, this man in dark green suede boots began to wander towards the sparsely inhabited bar, "For you, yes".

Turning doorknob, a golf ball rolled directly to Angela's nyloned big toe, which darted out beneath a pair of white strapless sandals, "Now, that's a way to greet a lady, Mr. Bell", her red blouse and white skirt, exuded this female's independent feeling in his presence, "Nick, I didn't know you were a golfer?"

"Angie, I'm a Renaissance man", Nick held that silver putter in right hand with the precision of a maestro grasping a baton. Pointing it into Chase's direction, a sly grin and snicker appeared.

Slightly pushing sleeves of that red blouse upward with both hands, Angela rolled a curling wave of cynicism his way, "Hmm, I guess we all have our tricks up our sleeves".

As Nick put putter away in a closet, Angie approached him at the edge of his desk. Kissing one another, Bell's raising hunger culminated in feeling her up, right then and there.

Nick's cotton shirt of sky blue, black pants and dark blue leather belt with silver buckle, continuously pushed against Angie's slim form, "Oh, baby, I just can't wait", as hands massaged her through fabric.

A blushing Angela Chase was being feverishly handled by Nicholas Bell in his office at the Eight Ball. Daughter of Wisconsin society, being taken to heights of ecstasy by a man who'd purchased cache into circles of privilege.

"Do you want me to get out of this, sir?", propping herself back against the edge of his desk, Angela started motioning those curvaceous thighs around Nicholas.

"As I breathe, baby", sighing and smiling with adolescent arousal, Nick squeezed Angie tightly, "As I breathe".

With blistering speed, Nick pulled off Angie's lace, blue panties, "Is this treat for me?" ,placing a warm finger between bristling pussy hairs, getting this woman to moan for him.

As he did so, Angie kissed him and pushed Nick away from her, "Treats come in all shapes and sizes". Desirous instinct took over, unbuckling this man's pants and beginning to unzip his fly. Angela wanted him inside of her, as much as Nick yearned to come in from the cold of solitude.

"Ah, I love an eager beaver", taking in the moment of oncoming satisfaction, Nick was mesmerized by Angie's lustful actions and getting a peek at Iris Mendoza's succulent accomplishment.

"That's good to hear", pushing white fabric up above her hips, Angela was ready to do anything he wished.

She unbuttoned his blue shirt with red manicured fingernails running against bare chest. Blue eyes surveyed red fabric, hankering for what laid beneath.

Angela gave Nicholas what he wanted, as her blouse was unbuttoned to reveal a powder blue bra. Turned on by the way this man was looking at her, those nipples darted against cotton.

Both lips met once more, as he wrapped arms around her back. A lunchtime snack of flesh and fire would fulfill their appetites. Nick's mouth pressed against perfumed neck, with Angie simultaneously handling his awakened cock inside of a pair of white briefs.

Both were sizzling together, when suddenly a familiar sound caught this couple off guard. Two voices were heard talking outside of that office.

Gennaro Esposito was the first person they heard. Yet, it was another male's voice that captured attention from within the environs of Nick's sanctum.

An unexpected guest knocked on that black door, "Nick? I need to talk to you, right now".

Nick moved swiftly away from Angie, as she turned around to pull that blouse closed. Beginning to approach that doorknob, he was stopped by a pleading female with a low voice, "Don't open that door, Nick", holding onto his left arm moderately, she nodded to Bell, "Please, for me. Don't do it".

"You can't go in there!", Espo groaned to this person who wanted entry.

Alas, the doorknob was turned and a harried being looked around that location for Nicholas Bell, "Oh, there you are. Why didn't you answer me, Nick?", seeing him seated behind his desk, the visitor was revealed.

Not shying away from anything or anyone, Nick calmly placed hands on desktop and waved his guest over to a chair, "What brings you by, Larry?"

Lawrence Chase, unaware that his beloved Angela was kneeling beneath Nick's desk, began to make a plea to the man holding a sizable marker, "I wanted to talk to you about the debt".

Angela found the only place in that office, where she could stay unseen. Palms to carpet, she could see the shadow of her husband's feet on the other side of that desk. She closed those eyes and took a deep breath, not knowing what would occur next.

"Now?", questioning this unpleasant choice of Larry Chase's timing, Nick muttered.

"Yes", without invitation, he walked towards a chair, "Can I sit down for a bit?", resting body into seat.

"Um", Bell's eyes glanced around that desk and finally at a cloistered Angela beneath it, "Sure".

Sounding like a man on a mission of saving his own financial neck, Lawrence spoke with a sense of resolution over this matter, "I don't want Angela to find out about this".

"Why not?", Nick calmly asked this determined man a question, which he knew the answer to.

Trying to cling to that final fiber of pride, Lawrence Chase swallowed deeply, "She wouldn't understand how I could fritter away that amount of money", being sank in debt to the Rabbit's Foot Casino in Fairwater, to that extent of $250,000.

Earlier in the Chase marriage, that smaller amount of debt had been taken care of by his wife. This time, Larry couldn't let that burden fall to those silken shoulders of grace.

"Oh, I don't know that", exposed cock in left hand, while grinning at that silent swan in blue bra, "From what I've seen from Angela", releasing that rod of lust, Nick tapped a finger against the desk, "She comes off as being quite tender".

Timidly turning to those attributes that led him to asking Angela Carter to become his wife in the first place, Lawrence barely contained a feather of sorrow, "Her gentleness is the reason why I can't let her find out".

"Can I ask you a question, Larry?", Nick didn't want to go down this lane of somber memories from a remorseful spouse, as he was sitting behind that desk with an aroused ruler of rigidity. Bell wanted this conversation to conclude quite quickly.

Brushing hair with raised hand, Larry tried to relax in that office, "Sure, Nick".

Elbow against armrest and right hand pressing against cheek, Nicholas Bell began to dig in, "Why are you sitting in my office? Especially at this moment in time?"

Holding a marker the size of Larry's, there was no way that this unlucky loser would be able to pay it off. Nick knew this fact, even before the whiff of Angie's perfume wafted over him in room 4 of the Tropical Palms Motel.

He sat waiting for Chase to come up with a plausible response. The words, which came from Larry's mouth, surprised a trio of beings in the Eight Ball.

"This amount of money can't be paid back to you overnight", deep breath taken, "Look at it from my point of view, Nick", reflecting on life with a spouse that wasn't a mental midget, "Angela, isn't stupid", Larry drifted to thoughts of previous blots of physical shortcomings in his marriage, "She can sense things".

"I bet she does", agreeing with Lawrence Chase's assessments, Nicholas Bell referred to his own thoughts of Angela's sensuality when they were together.

Nick's exposed cock, engorged with excitement, dangled at a degree from his unzipped pants. With a carefree smile on that face, he gazed down at a shaking Angie.

Crouched under desk, Angela's lips of regret released a few whispered words, "Don't tell him, Nick".

Paying little attention to what Larry was saying, Nick nodded affirmatively at Angela and got a glimpse of a forgotten gem. Right suede shoe rubbed against those blue lace panties next to it. Opening a desk drawer, Bell placed this treasure inside.

Larry's sighs filled the room, "She's the biggest gamble I've ever taken in my life".

Seated there, Nicholas Bell finally contained that cobra inside those black pants, standing and sitting on the edge of his desk, "Look, I'm not a marriage counselor, Nick".

"Shit, I'm not asking you to be", Larry's spine turned to marble when it came to Angie, as flickers of dejection filled the room, "But, I don't want to let her down".

"How could you let down a woman like Angela?", giving the person sitting in his office a squint of disbelief at that statement, Nick wanted to jump over that desk and remind Larry just how lucky a man he actually was. Not only marrying a beautiful woman. But, having the hand and heart of his boss' daughter. This is what Bell viewed.

"It's the gambling that will make her see me as nothing more than a fraud", realizing the depth of mistakes he's made over the years, Lawrence wished for a marriage to be on solid ground again.

Bell felt suddenly triggered by Chase's use of that word of deception, "Fraud? What are you getting at?"

"I know this sounds dense. But, my wife would give you the shirt off her back", saying something so simple to fill the void of explaining how allowable Larry's spouse was, caused Nick and Angela to react.

Nick's eyebrow slightly rose, while Angie's head sunk in distress.

Lawrence continued rolling out his feelings, "Oh, God, what kind of pun have I made", hands covered face in a blushing shame, as he exhaled, "Angela would feel like it's some kind of duty for her to step in and save me".

"Maybe you should talk to her about this, Larry", slowly motioning head from side to side, "And, not me", fingers tapped side of desk twice more.

Sad eyes of brown looked down at carpet with a sigh, "Damnit, if I did that", Larry raised head and looked Nick directly in his blue eyes, "I couldn't bear the look of disappointment in Angela's eyes".

Angela Chase cringed, as she heard those words of Lawrence's diminished pride. Reflexively clasping both hands to mouth, this hidden female gently began to weep beneath Nicholas Bell's desk.

As one eye surveyed a depleted Angie and the other focusing on her spouse, Nick had to come up with some sort of diversion of getting this man's attention, "Larry, I know it's not my place", walking with deliberate speed to this depressed guest, he gave a feign touch of an understanding hand to right shoulder, "But, I think you should go home and think about what you've got".

"You mean, Angie?", slowly motioning upward, Larry's sense of envy flowed towards Bell. It was the first time in months, that he'd felt a need to sternly sway a man's implications of attention to his wife.

"Hey", noticing the sudden change in Chase's demeanor at that moment in time, Nick gave an assuring smile to him, "You're wife is a beautiful woman" ,making an obligatory compliment to that unseen spouse, Bell gave an underlying reason, "But, I don't mean Angela. I'm talking about that life you lead, Larry".

"My life isn't so wonderful, Nick", exhaling loudly, he starting shaking his head, "I've got this 250 hanging over my head".

"But, then again", an invisible sword of destruction to Lawrence's world mysteriously evaporated, "I'm definitely not Damocles" ,a tiny smirk came to those lips, "Come on, you get yourself home and relax" ,breathing loud enough to cover the low sighs of Angela's tears, Nicholas turned into a seemingly generous man, "There's enough time for me" ,left hand patted him on the back, leading Larry to that closed door, "And, telling Angela the truth".

"Your time will come before hers", courage that Larry had in standing up to this man that held an enormous financial marker, vanished when thinking of revealing an unpleasant truth to a trusting wife.

Opening door, Nick shrugged at that response, "Well, at least I know I've done my part", knowing Larry was far too weak to tell his wife the truth, he smirked.

"Thanks, Nick", initiating a handshake with him, Larry felt a sense of relief as he walked out of that office.

"Don't worry about a thing", in a jovial tone, Nicholas Bell closed the door behind a departing Chase, while Esposito walked Lawrence down the Eight Ball's hallway.

Crawling out from beneath that desk, Angela's frame shook with shame over hearing those words of devotion and inefficiency from her husband.

Panting, Angie stared at her aroused associate, "What just happened?"

"That was close", Nick slowly began rubbing Angela's shoulders up and down.

"Too close", Angela softly replied.

Nick's strong arms caressed that soft flesh, as he comforted her, "Angela, you have nothing to be ashamed of", taking this discussion somewhere that was uncharted, "In fact, it's Larry that should be ashamed in not loving you the right way. And, even in some ways, he wants to make you proud of him".

Bell said something to this neglected woman, which she knew was true.

"I better go", gently pulling herself away from his grip, she knew the moment had been lost.

"Come on, babe", ,with a wink and a smile, he tried to charm her again, "You owe me a gander at Iris' handiwork".

"Well, that will have to keep", Angela began buttoning red blouse, "Tight as my thighs will be shut".

Nick felt his black covered crotch, as that cock remained in raised motion for her, "Angie, I'm still stiff for you".

"Hmm, that's good for my ego", unrolling white skirt down from her waist slowly, Angela grinned, "This lunch date has been more than I bargained for", beginning to step towards that door.

Closely walking behind, Nick wrapped those longing arms around Angie, "Just think about this as just a quick bite".

"And, next time?", turning herself around and smiling at this anxious male.

"The full course", letting out a moderate laugh, Nick returned to his colorful conquest on Angie's flesh, "With a lemonhead as a luscious dessert".

Turning silver doorknob with left hand, "You do have a way with words, Mr. Bell".

Blowing a few words of desire into her ear, an appreciative Nick moaned, "As do you with a cock, Angela".

Door opened slightly, as she gently began to tease this male, "Maybe you should get a bigger guard dog, Nick".

"And, why's that?", Nick held door open, as she walked down that hallway in a slow strut.

"Interruptions", flash of brown curl whisked away from Nick, as her body brushed past Esposito, "Bye, Espo".

"Goodbye, Angie", Espo grinned over this exiting vision of lust, as he strode into that office and Bell closed the door behind him, "What was that all about?"

"Nothing to worry about".

"She's in here. Then he's in here", slyly smiling at his old friend, he inquired about that couple, "What happened?"

"Let's just say it's two peas passing in the midday", Nick began acting as if nothing out of the ordinary just occurred in his office.

"What?", placing hands on the hip area of those forest, green slacks, Espo snickered in disbelief.

"Ah, Espo", waving his hand downward, "Don't worry about it", buttoning up sky blue shirt and sitting down, "He's hiding shit from her. And, she's hiding shit from him".

"Oh, I see", arms covered in mint silk folded, as Esposito looked at him, "And, you're just the piece of wood she's decided to fiddle with, Nick?", tittering at this situation.

Life's melody broke this sarcastic symphony, as Nick held both hands upward and began to work them like a violin virtuoso, "Call me Stradivarius, my friend".

Chuckles and laughter filled that location, as both men thought of those prior moments of an afternoon interruption.

In Angela's haste to leave Nicholas' office at the Eight Ball, a pair of blue lace panties had been left. Being in Nick's presence, she began forgetting many things. One of which was the vow taken to be Mrs. Lawrence Chase. The second remained the loneliness of not being touched by an inattentive husband. ...End Of Excerpt

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