The Mammoth Book of Best New Erotica 5 Read Online Free Page A

him, and he took a step back. He was shocked, I could see. This was an unusual disturbance.
    “Miss,” he said calmly. “I have called the authorities. Please do not cause any more trouble.”
    I rushed for the door, and emerged into the damp night air. I wanted to get away from there fast. What was I thinking? Why did I come here? Of course, there could be no sex without monetary exchange. It was unthinkable. I needed to recover my senses.
    I walked to the right, and rushed toward the waterfront. I think I had the vague notion of throwing myself off the bridge into the sea. I wanted to feel the cool water tugging me under and caressing my legs as Juan had done. I wanted the water to pull me down, down, down, and down further, until I was no more.
    Then I saw him. He was standing under a lamp-post across the street staring at me. I started to yell and run towards him, but he swiftly ducked into an alleyway. I crossed the street and followed him in.
    Instinctively, I knew to stop yelling. I knew that I needed to be quiet. Secrets cannot be shouted, only whispered. Secrets must stay secrets, because once they are out in the open air, the air becomes foul with reality.
    Juan was leaning against a brick wall. The night was dark, and this alley was a simple path to the back entrance to a building. No one was coming or going at this hour. I could just make out the outline of Juan’s black jacket. As I came closer to him, I could see that his pants were open and that he had his erect penis in his hand. His hand was moving up and down rhythmically as he penetrated me with his eyes.
    I immediately kneeled before him and looked up at his dick as it rose above me. I rested my forehead against his leg, and let my tongue explore. I caressed the balls that had flopped against me and prayed to the shaft that had penetrated me with such slow precision. I felt my legs become weak with desire and I felt a pouring out of fluids between my legs. I rubbed his wet dick all over my face, bathing myself in my own saliva. Finally, I was touching what gave me such great pleasure.
    After Juan came, he pulled his pants back up. I looked at his face again, and waited. Then he reached his hand down between my legs and slowly brought me to orgasm with the tip of his index finger.
    I cried when I came. And then he smiled. It was the first smile I had seen on his worried face. And then he whispered in my ear, “See you at the salon.”

Iceland Summer
Bill Noble
    Midnight a hundred miles south of the Arctic Circle. Wind slammed the tiny tent, pressed it flat against his face for minutes at a stretch, then, relenting momentarily, let it spring up. Rain volleyed like grapeshot. The rain fly stuttered and whined but somehow held; the stakes he’d driven deep into muddy, gritty volcanic ash stayed anchored.
    By first light, the violence had congealed to steady downpour. He struggled into clothes, dogged his raingear down, and crawled out into the weather to discover that his was the only tent still standing in the broad field. Dozens had been arrayed there at nightfall.
    Head down, he splashed toward the park building. He shouldered its heavy doors open and found himself suddenly immersed in an explosion of warmth and light: a hundred sodden people crowded the park’s lunchroom, clutching cups of cocoa in frog-wrinkled hands and gabbling in a dozen languages. Most of them had clearly spent the night here as refugees from the storm. A stench of wet wool filled the room. When he was finally able to reach the food counter, a steaming cup was thrust into his hands. A seat opened up, and he collapsed into it, hardly aware of the other person at the table. He took a first blessed scalding sip of chocolate.
    Someone laughed, a tinkling cascade he sensed was aimed at him. He looked up, already half in retreat. An elf perched on the chair across from him, knees spraddled, head canted. The hood of her parka was thrown back, revealing a helmet of copper hair brushed