Hot Excerpt from “Something More”

Heat up your weekend with this steamy excerpt from Something More, by Carla Atherstone! Want to read the whole story? Click here to purchase your copy.


There was a soft chime as the lift reached the fifth floor. Wendy took a deep breath as the doors opened, then stepped out into the corridor. Her feet made no sound on the thick pile carpet, and within seconds she was at the door of Lana’s flat.

She reached out to knock, then drew back, hesitating. This is the right number, isn’t it? What if I’ve got it wrong? Then she shook her head; if it was the wrong flat, they’d probably know where Lana’s was. And even if they didn’t, what was the worst she’d suffer — a little embarrassment? Christ’s sake, Wendy, you’ve handled worse than that. Stop making excuses and do something about this, if it matters to you.

Wendy straightened up, then rapped on the door.

At first she couldn’t hear anything. Then there was a muffled voice — or was it voices? A pang of dread went through her. Then the door opened, and Lana stood there.

The smile and greeting died on Wendy’s lips. Not that Lana was any less beautiful or alluring than she’d been before; if anything she was even more so. Her long tanned legs and slender feet were bare — her toenails, once more, painted a bright berry-red — and she wore only a black and white kimono that clung to her small breasts and tented outwards at her groin. But that was just it. Her cock was hard, her face flushed and the ash-blonde hair that fell about her shoulders was damp with sweat; she’d clearly been with someone when Wendy had knocked.

“Wendy?” she said at last.

“Hi.” Wendy shifted from one foot to the other, pushing one heel down hard into the floor in the hope she could make a crack open and swallow her.

“What do you want?”

Wendy blinked. You, she thought. “I just—” she began. “I mean, it’s been so long — I hadn’t — I just wondered…”

“Lana?” another woman’s voice called from inside the flat. “Who is it, hun?”

Lana flushed a little redder and looked down. Wendy stepped backwards. So, was this how it was? She suddenly saw herself, one of a string of bored, dissatisfied middle-class women lured into Lana’s bed for some no-strings gratification. Not liberated, not on any journey of discovery — just a stupid woman who’d been played. “Never mind,” she said. “I should go.”

She turned and half-ran back towards the lift.

“Wendy — wait!” Lana ran after her, catching her arm. “Wait a minute. Come in, please.”

“Don’t be silly.”

“Please. I’d like you to. I’m glad you’re here. I wanted to see you again.”

“Then why didn’t you?”

“How exactly? You didn’t exactly leave a number.”

“Yes, I did.” But then she replayed her flight from the apartment in her head and realised she hadn’t in her rush to get back home. Lana didn’t even know her second name; how could she have got in touch? Now she felt her face burn with embarrassment.

“Please,” Lana said again. “Come inside.”

“But you’ve got someone there.”

“She’ll wait. I’ll explain. To both of you.” Lana took Wendy’s hand and held it lightly; her fingers were warm, slim and soft. “Please?”

Those green cat’s eyes were gazing right into Wendy’s; there was no way she could say no. She followed, as Lana padded barefoot back to the flat door, her eyes drawn to the sway of Lana’s neat, firm rear under the kimono. The lights in the corridor shone through the diaphanous material, showing every curve of the body underneath.

Lana shut the flat door behind Wendy, then motioned her through into the living room. “Sophia?” she called. “We’ve got company.”


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