Free Audrey Exposed by Roxy Queen Page B

in my stomach. I do not want to be dateless at this wedding. In fact, after everything I’ve been through for the last month, I feel a strengthened resolve. I will not be alone on this trip and I plan to enjoy it to the fullest. “I’ll let you know before then.”
    Hours later, a half-empty bottle of wine rests on my coffee table, along with the remains of Thai takeout. The credits for a Nicholas Sparks movie roll across my TV screen, and I’m missing Zac Efron’s biceps already. He’s hot, and the combination of wine, a cheesy romance with a naked Zefron in an outdoor shower, and my new resolve has put me in the mood to attempt my homework from Dr. Markson.
    I leave the couch for my bed, stopping first to double check the locks on my front door.  I flip the metal bolt and secure the chain, because God forbid someone walk into the middle of this. It’s stupid, but I even pull the privacy curtains tight, even though they’re sheer and don’t provide much privacy. I may be tipsy, but not so much that my irrational fear of being caught by someone walking in my apartment is gone. Who would walk in? No one. There’s not a soul who has any reason to come in, other than the landlord, but like I said, irrational fear.
    I’ve thou ght this moment out. I plan to recreate the environment of my sessions with Graham. I dim the overhead lights and light a variety of candles around the bed. I search my iPod for the hypnotic, trance-inducing music of “Explosions in the Sky” (I finally asked Graham what he played every session.) Then, finally, I strip down to my tank and shorts, grabbing my hot pink rocket. Armed and ready, I burrow under the covers.
    My hands recreate the pattern Graham has traveled for the past month with his hands, up and down my arms and legs, gliding between my thighs. I close my eyes and summon images of wet showers, choreographed sex, and a movie star’s back. These images come, they’re quickly replaced with intent blue eyes, and a jaw covered in a thin layer of stubble. That deadly smile. Hands that know every exposed inch of my body better than I know it myself. I find myself stopping at the barriers used in our sessions; but the idea of the rocket excites me and with a quick shimmy, I slip my shorts and panties off, feeling the cool sheets on my skin.
    I lick my lips and wonder what Graham’s mouth would feel like touching mine. The scratchy feel of his beard. Are his lips soft? Is his tongue warm? I pretend it’s exactly how I want it and flip the tiny switch at the base of the rocket.
    My hips jump at the sound, anticipating contact. Fear? Not much. I know I won’t do anything I’m not comfortable with. Shame? A little. A man should be pleasuring me, not a vibrating plastic tube. I push the shame away and use my fingers to spread myself wide. The first touch of the rocket to my clit sends shocks of electric waves across my lower body. It’s been a long time since my pussy has seen any action.
    The contact proves to be too much, so I guide it to the edges, warming my body up. It takes time but soon my hips move, seeking contact. I adjust the rocket, grazing it over my clit. A surge of pleasure ripples through my body. Oh , I think, pressing my head into the pillow.
    I explore my body and realize not everything feels great , but not everything feels bad either. A lot feels wonderful. It’s not as scary without the pressure of more hanging over my head. I’m in control of the pointy object; and once I realize what feels nice, I do it repeatedly until the room turns fuzzy around the edges, and my body takes on a life of its own. The tiny nub between my legs swells under the vibrating rocket as I glide it over the aggravated flesh. Just when I think there’s nothing more, I hit the sweet spot and my legs clench around the plastic shaft, squeezing tightly, and I fall to a lovely place between pleasure and pain. I’m startled by the sound of my breathing, deep and ragged; and I rock to my