Phoenix Rising Read online

  “Excuse me, ma’am?”

  Jessa was still standing motionless in front of the plate glass window. She vaguely wondered how long she’d been loitering in front of the store while trying to assess her personal worth.

  “Can I help you find anything?”

  “Find anything?”

  Standing about five feet away in front of a doorway, the spunky clerk propped her hands on her hips and cocked her head to one side. There was only one way to describe her. Attitude incarnate.

  She looked like a Gothic princess. Her long hair was dyed black and hung in ponytails on either side of her head with a great expanse of bangs framing her pale face. Dark black lines emphasized her huge blue eyes and her full dark red lips were set in a quirky smile. A tiny diamond stud decorated her nose, and what appeared to be a studded dog collar was cinched around her neck.

  Her clothes fascinated Jessa. A dark purple corset top accented a waist narrow enough to make even the country club queen envious. The garment had barely enough fabric to cover the nipples of the full breasts bobbing over its top. And her pleated black pinstriped miniskirt was so short Jessa could’ve sworn she could see the hint of purple bows decorating the tops of the girl’s fishnet stockings.

  She wore combat boots.

  The clerk waved a set of black fingernails toward the window and smiled. “You’ve been staring at the window display for like, ten minutes. I just wondered if there was something you wanted a closer look at.”

  Still shell shocked by the Gothic Princess’s royal attire, Jessa hadn’t noticed where she was standing. Eyes darting around, her gaze settled in petrified horror on the words etched in gold on the door. She’d drifted to a stop directly in front of the porn store!

  Ambiguously named Accessories and More, the store was located in a strip of Old Town buildings built of natural brick and stone. The window displayed some of the sexiest lingerie she’d ever clapped eyes on.

  Instantly intrigued, Jessa fought the urge to satisfy her curiosity and go inside. God knew how long she’d been standing in front of the window. Who would know if she went inside and took just a peek at the merchandise?

  But people like her didn’t go into those places. She was a member of the Rotary and the Garden Club! She was supposed to be above stuff like porn. In fact, Jessa was so far above porn, she was above sex too.

  Jessa fought the rebellious twists and turns of her mind. Was it really about the store or what was in it? Was it even about sex? No. It was about control. Jessa had spent years honing the ability to control her mind and her body and make them do exactly what she wanted. There was no room for spontaneity or lack of self-control in Jessa’s world. Only weak people gave in to their base natures. People like that couldn’t get through the day without an orgasm. They needed sex. It ruled them. Lack of control was why the average male required more than one woman to keep him occupied. Jessa wasn’t like that.

  “Ma’am?”

  “I was just passing by, that’s all.”

  The Princess tilted her head, ponytail shifting to reveal an ear chock-full of silver studs. “C’mon, don’t tell me you’re too chicken to come in here and have a look.”

  Jessa knew the jibe for what it was and still couldn’t stop herself from taking the bait. “Chicken?”

  One black painted nail tapped her dark red lips. “I think I know what you need.”

  “You know what I need?” Jessa couldn’t keep the sarcasm from her voice.

  “Even good girls like you need to have fun.”

  Her words tapped into something deep inside Jessa. “Well, what about that? What sizes do you have?”

  The Princess offered a gap toothed grin. “Come on in and I’ll check for you.”

  Stepping inside that store was like walking from one planet to another. Jessa could feel the blush from the roots of her hair to her toes.

  It was everywhere!

  One whole wall was covered, floor to ceiling, with DVD’s for sale. The covers showed graphic pictures of men and women fornicating in more positions than Jessa knew existed.

  “What size are you, ma’am?”

  “Huh?” Jessa ripped her gaze from the DVD collection. “I’m a ten, or maybe a twelve…if your sizes run small I might try a fourteen. D.”

  Gothic Princess grinned. “I’ll put a few choices in the dressing room. They’ll be waiting whenever you’re ready.”

  “Thank you,” Jessa murmured, distracted.

  Jessa should’ve gone and hid in the fitting room for an appropriate amount of time. It would’ve been easy to make some lame excuse about the stuff not fitting right and then get the hell out of there. But she didn’t.

  She wanted a closer look. The rack at the front was full of…crap, they were cocks! They were made of every material imaginable and came in every color of the rainbow. She stared. It was beyond endurance not to. They looked nothing like the limp excuse for a dick Jessa had seen every night during the years of her marriage.

  Big ropy veins creased their smooth surfaces. The rounded heads were broad and blunt, made to press into a woman and spread her wide. Most looked big enough to rip a vagina in two. It was hard not to wonder if it was actually possible to fit one of those inside without pain involved. Before she had a chance to rethink the action, her hand snaked out and pulled one off the shelf.

  In her eagerness, Jessa carelessly knocked another box to the floor. She bent and retrieved it. The front showed a picture of a gorgeous, busty blonde woman. She was wearing some kind of harness around her lower half. Jessa squinted, trying to make sure she was seeing things right.

  It was an actual strap-on!

  The contraption lived on in infamy around housewife circles. Most of her cronies at the good ole’ country club had never seen, let alone used, one. A wave of damp heat flared between her legs. Jessa clamped them together and tried not to squirm. The friction was doing strange things to her body. Sucking in a deep breath, she fought for control of her mind.

  But she couldn’t control the part of her brain that wanted to know what it was like to buckle the cock around her waist and fuck pussy like a man.

  The brutal direction of her thoughts rattled Jessa on the inside. She’d said something similar to Will about fucking. She hadn’t thought of it in those terms since college, when words like “fuck” and “pussy” had made her feel wild and daring. What kind of a word was “pussy” anyway? And why did the thought of it make something wrench inside her womb? Was she secretly considering a future as a Lesbian?

  But that hadn’t ever appealed to Jessa. Not really. As much as she secretly enjoyed the sight of another woman naked, the idea of one of those fake cocks in real form was too enticing.

  Dildo still in hand, Jessa headed for the dressing room.

  “I can put that up front for you, ma’am.”

  The Gothic Princess again. Jessa gladly handed her the dildo. If she wasn’t carrying it around it wouldn’t feel as if she intended to buy it.

  Slanting a look beneath her lashes at the smiling sales clerk, Jessa wondered how much of the merchandise she was intimately familiar with. It was hard not to imagine the Gothic Princess using some or all of the products carried in the store. Did she do it alone? Or was she with someone else? How many tricks or skills had she learned on the job?

  Another forbidden thought, this one ten times more taboo than the first: the Gothic Princess splayed out against the front counter, bent over, pin-stripe mini up around her tiny waist, some muscular hunk pumping into her from behind.

  That was enough! It was time to get a grip on her unruly thoughts. Without another look at the Gothic Princess, Jessa shut the door and retreated to the faux safety of the dressing room. It was huge. Obviously meant for two.

  The paper-thin walls were painted black. A violently orange cushioned bench stretched the length of the back wall. How many people had tried on lingerie, only to end up on that bench after finding out how quickly they could get it off?

  Sensible kni
t dress pants and button-down blouse hit the floor in an unceremonious heap. She reached for the fourteen. A size twelve hadn’t fit since before the Twinkie binge nearly four years before.

  The black leather bustier was tight. Jessa sandwiched her body in and zipped up the front. Her breasts bulged out over the top, cleavage enough that she was in danger of drowning in it.

  Her standard white cotton panties looked ridiculous under the matching garter belt but she tried it on anyway. A strange sensation settled into the pit of her stomach. Mouth dry, she lifted her eyes to the mirror. Needless to say, Jessa liked the reflection. Maybe even a little too much.

  Breasts lifted, waist trimmed, hips a soft flare. She looked…alluring. Maybe it was the freaky lighting in that place, but her eyes shifted from brown to green and her hair burnished to a honey color. Several of the long strands slid forward over her shoulders, resting against the curve of one breast.

  Oh my God.

  She bought everything, even adding a pair of stockings and a black leather thong. She didn’t have any intention of actually wearing the stuff. It was just one of those things to have in the closet. A just-in-case thing. In case of what, she hadn’t a clue. But Jessa was lying to herself anyway, so it didn’t matter.

  “Put it on this, please.” Jessa handed the Gothic Princess Will’s platinum MasterCard.

  The machine beeped when the magnetic strip slid through the reader. Jessa was just savoring the fact that she’d charged over three hundred dollars on Will’s business credit card at a porn store when the Gothic Princess threw her a curveball.

  “Do you want to put this purchase toward your frequent buyer program, Ms. Kincaid?”

  The shock of that question penetrated even the lingering numbness of Will’s desertion. Jessa managed a curt nod before pulling her lower lip into her mouth and biting it until the acute discomfort overcame her shock.

  Another bombshell, this time dropped from afar. Frequent buyer? If Will’s card was already in their system, it could only mean one thing. Will had been a customer. And from the sound of it, he’d been a frequent customer.

  Chapter Three

  Jessa wadded up the bag from Accessories and More and stuffed it into her Coach handbag. Slinging it over her shoulder, she continued her walk down the street. The wind chilled her to the bone, but Jessa didn’t mind. Any sensation was preferable to the emptiness Will’s rejection had left in its wake.

  It wasn’t fair. She hadn’t done anything wrong. In fact, she’d spent nineteen years killing herself with the transformation into perfect wife. She’d swallowed more pride than she’d ever thought possible. Not to mention all of the boring meetings, events, and functions she’d muddled through.

  And at the end of it all, what had those people and that life ever done for her? Nothing. They condoned Will and his decision. She was nothing but yesterday’s girl.

  Windows painted over in black gave way to a set of heavy wooden double doors. Neon beer signs flanking the doors announced that it was some kind of bar. Jessa didn’t need to see the name to know it wasn’t the kind of bar she should go into. Women like Jessa didn’t go to bars, much less unaccompanied in the middle of the afternoon. Whatever.

  “Fuck them,” Jessa muttered before grabbing the handle and hauling the heavy doors open.

  Once inside, the doors slammed shut with an ominous thud. It took several moments for Jessa’s eyes to become accustomed to the dim interior. Once they did, she realized there wasn’t much to see in the entrance. It was a lot of drab tile flooring and some kind of cage blocking the rest of her view. She spun to get a better look.

  “I’ll need to see some ID.”

  The sound reverberated throughout her body like a sonic boom. Turning, she found herself face to chest with the owner of the voice. His tree-trunk legs were encased in well-fitting black cargo pants. The material was snug at the hips and clung almost obscenely in the crotch area. The soft blue cotton blend shirt stretched taut across what could’ve only been a perfect washboard stomach. His biceps and broad shoulders tested the confines of the material. And his sleeves were rolled to the elbows to showcase a massive set of forearms corded with muscle and dusted with downy black hair.

  She chanced a look up and was almost sorry. A body like that deserved an angelic face and long flowing locks. But his head was clean shaven, jaw set in iron, lips thinned, his nose aristocratic beneath deep-set eyes as black as night. His gaze looked like a glimpse at the pit of hell. It was positively unnerving. He was hard, masculine beyond any feminine daydream, and about as approachable as a demon.

  “ID? Are you serious?”

  It had been long years since someone had carded Jessa for anything. It should’ve been flattering. But in order to grab her ID, she was going to have to open her purse. And stuffed inside that rather large handbag was a plain white bag emblazoned with the words Accessories and More. She did not care to show him what kind of items she’d been shopping for recently.

  “Am I serious?” His voice slid an octave. It turned from gravel to velvet in no more than one breath. A wry smile tugged at one corner of his mouth, turning his lips from thin to generous. The effect was amazing. He went from unforgiving to basely sexual in three words.

  Her mouth went dry and her brain scrambled to regain control. It was all about control. Control, and how she couldn’t seem to keep a grip on it.

  She became abruptly aware of his scent. Previously lingering below her radar, a swiftly indrawn breath brought the spicy masculine aroma tinged with sandalwood soap to her attention. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end.

  His big hand lifted, thumbing at a sign hanging on the cage denying entrance to anyone underage. Jessa wavered. It was one thing to thumb her nose at convention and enter the bar. Somehow, it seemed more damning to pull out her wallet and flash her ID.

  Deciding it would be worse to run with her tail between her legs, she slid one hand into the bag and rooted around for her wallet. It was tricky to get the wallet free without pulling anything else out. Jessa half expected he knew what she was up to. But nobody mentioned it, and acute relief washed over her when she handed him her driver’s license.

  He looked it over and then lifted his black eyes. “Enjoy yourself, Jessa.”

  It was impossible not to watch his lips form her name. Jessa. The slide and play turned them soft and pliant. She had the insane urge to suck his full lower lip into her mouth, lick its surface, and kiss him until she was out of breath.

  She briefly wondered if she’d gone insane when a dizzying spurt of molten silk between her legs caught her by surprise. A tiny gasp escaped before she could choke it back. He smiled. He knew what he’d done with his voice. His eyes said as much.

  She snatched her ID from his hand and stuffed the wallet back inside her purse. Looking everywhere else but at him, she headed for the bar.

  It was no time to slump back against the bar and fan herself like some hormonal teen, though that’s exactly what Jessa felt like doing. Instead, she scraped up some self-respect and pretended everything was fine. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t had ample practice doing that over the last nineteen years.

  “What can I get for you?”

  It didn’t take Jessa long to decide. She was already so far outside the parameters of normal, she had nothing left to lose. “An Irish car bomb.”

  The bartender’s left eyebrow arched high, and he chuckled. “A lady with taste.”

  There was a moment to collect her thoughts while she waited for the drink. It was hard to believe her life had been utterly unexciting less than twelve hours ago. Only that morning, she’d gotten up with the alarm clock, fixed breakfast for herself, and hurried off to help plan a charity dinner auction. How was it possible to go from charity housewife to chic-in-a-bar carrying porn-in-a-bag in less than one day?

  The facts were obvious. Will left for Ginny. Not really a big surprise. Jessa was okay with that. They were getting a divorce after nineteen years of marriage. She was okay w
ith that, too. But everything else definitely fell under the heading of not okay.

  Women like Jessa didn’t ask explicit questions. They didn’t dwell on inappropriate behavior and lewd conduct. She shouldn’t have gone into a store like Accessories and More. And she had no business sitting at a bar drinking car bombs in the middle of the day.

  Or was all that just a cop out? Deep down, if she were brutally honest, Jessa knew she’d see things differently. Thoughts of rebellion had littered her entire married life. But Jessa had always been one to sit and stew about it, hoard her rebellious desires and examine them privately behind closed doors. Now, it was almost as if the situation with Will had ripped her inhibitions away and dragged her into the open.

  Jessa wasn’t entirely certain she was comfortable with that.

  The arrival of her drink interrupted her self-recrimination. “One Irish car bomb,” the blue-eyed bartender said with a wink. “If you manage to drink that properly, I’ll give you two more for free.”

  A challenge? It had been years since Jessa had spent time in a bar, before Will, before marriage, before she’d settled down and become a grown up. Jessa lifted first the Guinness, then the shot glass, and sniffed. The complex combination was deep, dark, with a hint of sweetness. A lot like the man at the door.

  Breathing deeply, she dropped the shot of mingled Baileys and Jameson into the Guinness and inhaled them both as fast as she could swallow. The Guinness was thick, but the Baileys and Jameson turned the flavor to chocolate by the time her tongue registered the taste. Slamming the glass down on the bar, Jessa swiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

  “Two more it is, then.”

  “You’re trying to get me drunk on purpose,” she accused. “I didn’t think bartenders were supposed to do that.”

  He plunked another car bomb down on the bar. “This is an old-fashioned kind of place. We encourage drunkenness.”

  The obsidian-tinted Guinness gleamed in the dim light, and a grin kicked up the corners of Jessa’s mouth. “Well, bottoms up to you, then.”