Free Subterfudge by Normandie Alleman Page B

had a voracious appetite, and she ached for a release.
    Climbing onto the bed next to her, Roger cradled her head to his chest. “Dearest Ashley. You are such a good girl.”
    He untied her feet. Grateful for her newfound freedom, she wrapped her legs around his waist as he entered her. Rocking into her body, back and forth in a sensuous motion, he bent his head and caught a nipple between his lips. He worked it with his tongue and teeth, and she whimpered until her lust became a raging fire.
    When she could hold back no longer, she came all over his cock, her walls pulsing and grasping snugly around him. She shuddered and collapsed, spent.
    Roger lifted her hips and thrust deeper. He clasped both hands underneath her ass, holding tightly as he pulsed hard and fast into her. Ashley clasped her ankles together behind his back and held on as he ravaged her juicy pussy.
    Roger pushed one final time before he collapsed on top of her.
    “Oh, Sir,” she said, “that was intense.” She nibbled on his ear and held him close.
    “Yes, it was,” he agreed. His mouth found hers, both of them hungry to seal the pact their bodies had just made.

Chapter Two
    The next morning Ashley asked Roger about his favourite foods. If she was going to do this, she meant to start with a bang right out of the gate.
    “Turkey,” he said. “The kind people eat at Thanksgiving.”
    Ahhh . A large hen, not some sliced up meat from the deli.
    “No problem,” she assured him, and scooted him out of the door, offering him a peck on the lips as he said goodbye.
    After closing the door, Ashley sat down at the kitchen island with a cup of coffee to contemplate her next move. When it came to the gastronomic arts, she knew most girls inherited their skills from family members. Ashley’s mother had been first-rate in the kitchen. But she had never taught Ashley anything, and she had never thought to ask her mother about how to prepare a meal.
    Seems kinda stupid now. Wish I’d taken advantage of that time when I had it. She propped her chin up with one elbow. But her mother had catered to Ashley and her father. It had been her way. Then she had died in her late forties and Ashley’s father had introduced her to the world of frozen food and take-out she knew today.
    She picked up the phone and dialled the number for Roger’s class.
    The woman on the other end of the line answered in an ancient, raspy voice. She seemed to have a hard time understanding Ashley and kept asking her to speak up until Ashley was practically screaming into the phone. Not a good sign.
    The class was being held at the stodgy old lady’s house. Hmm. She didn’t relish being trapped in a stranger’s house all day. Creepy. She’d thought the class would be held at a community centre or someplace like that.
    Plus, what if the old lady had cats? Ashley was terribly allergic.
    She sneezed just thinking about it.
    Okay, not taking the class. Crumbling up the ad, Ashley tossed it in the wastebasket.
    Then she decided to do what anyone of her generation would do—she turned on her Wi-Fi.
    She watched Internet videos on cooking turkeys until she almost fell asleep. When the last online video came to an end, Ashley yawned and snapped the laptop closed. It didn’t look that tricky. Basically, all she had to do was throw the turkey into a roasting pan and pop it into the oven for a few hours. She made a phone call to her client, emailed her some files then headed off to the store.
    Hours later, Ashley stood in the kitchen staring at the turkey and all her groceries.
    To make life easier, she had also bought refrigerated mashed potatoes. A lady at the grocery store had told her nobody would be able to tell the difference between those and the kind made from scratch. She had purchased canned vegetables, frozen rolls and a pre-made sweet potato casserole.
    Was she cheating? Well, maybe a little, but Rome wasn’t built in a day…the turkey was already going to be a monumental task.
    It