Journal

Wednesday, January 11, 2006

First Chapter of RED HOT SECRETS

Chapter One

“Red Hot Secrets.”
Lauren Reynolds never missed an episode of the over-the-top, overtly sensual, late-night soap. She taped it with as much ritual as she brushed her teeth twice a day. The half-hour she devoted to that show each evening constituted her only true indulgence. And the closest thing to sex she’d had in about two years. It was her escape from reality. Her way of getting a little passion in her life, because she couldn’t risk the distraction of a real relationship.
Her goals were too important.
Shoving the key into the lock of her tiny apartment, she pushed open the door, not surprised to be greeted by darkness. Her mother had developed a Thursday night bingo habit. Their sixty-something neighbor hosted the event. Lauren flipped on the light and smiled. The winning pot wasn’t money. It was clothespins, of all things. For those ladies it wasn’t about collecting the prize. It was about fun. Lauren’s chest tightened as she thought of the months of chemotherapy her mother had endured to survive breast cancer. Seeing her happy, and living life, was like the answer to Lauren’s prayers.
Depositing her purse on the entrance table, Lauren looked around the living room, taking in the sparse, worn furnishings. For once, she did it with hope. Of escape. She’d known a long time she needed to get her mother out of this perpetual state of poverty. Lauren walked to the end table and picked up a picture of her father. She touched the glass, wondering if things would be different if he was still alive. She wished she remembered him more clearly, but he’d died when she was only five.
“I’m trying to take care of her, Daddy,” she whispered.
And as of yesterday, Lauren had taken a huge leap toward a brighter tomorrow. She’d landed an intern job at a reputable Manhattan advertising firm. That thought lifted her spirits and brought her back to the present. She set the picture back down. Eager to get to her show, Lauren made fast tracks to the bedroom and then straight to the bathroom. Her skirt slipped to the cracked tile. She wanted a future without that worn-out floor she hated so much. She’d scrubbed the surface too many times to count, yet it still looked dirty. Disposing of the rest of her clothes, her mind focused on what lay before her. Maybe one day, she’d have a modern floor that responded to a mop.
She thought of her favorite character on “Red Hot Secrets“, Tara Ross. She’d gone from the slums to running her own high-powered cosmetics company. Lauren intended to do the same and escape the slums. She wasn’t allowing her mother to end her days in a crummy neighborhood fretting over the bills.
Of course, Tara had extra perks in the form of two sexy guys fighting for her affection and both felt her pleasure was the ticket to success. The heated lovemaking sizzled and kept Lauren glued to the television. Lauren made a soft little sound of appreciation. It was quite fun to watch.
A sigh escaped Lauren’s lips. Both of Tara’s hunky men had inspired more than one fantasy probably because it had been far too long since she’d had a man. Even for just one night. An image flashed in her mind. He’d be tall, dark, and muscular, with dark eyes, and perfect hands…of course, she’d never have the courage to do such a thing.
Standing in front of the mirror, Lauren stared at her image and for the first time in many years, she actually looked. Her job interview had demanded a good trim of her long hair and a purchase of fresh makeup. A highlighting kit had given her brown locks auburn highlights.
Her eyes drifted downward to her body. Being too thin had been a curse as a teen. It had made her the butt of far too many jokes in high school. But since she hit twenty-five just two years before, she’d actually grown a few curves. Her breasts were full and high. Not big. Not small. She bit her bottom lip as a tiny ache began to build deep inside her core. It had been so very long since she’d had sex. With a slow, upward slide, her hand followed the curve of her hips, and then cupped her breasts, trying to remember what it felt like to have a man do the same. God, how she longed to remember.
And then a thought occurred. She deserved a reward for years of working two jobs. And for landing a top-notch job. Long hours and a lot of hard work lie before her. Yes, she deserved a reward. And she knew what she wanted—a nice, tight, hard-bodied, one-night stand. With a frustrated sound, her hands fell to her sides. She was tired of self-satisfaction. A man felt incredible necessary. A tight laugh slipped from her lips. Like she had the courage for that?
She’d have to settle for “Red Hot Secrets”.
Besides, she wasn’t even sure she remembered what to do in bed with a naked man. Bending over the tub, she flipped the stopper in place and then turned on the water. A generous amount of bubbles followed. A floral-smelling bath was one of the few luxuries she allowed herself on a regular basis. And even then she bought the bargain brand rose petal smell when she really wanted the brand-name version.
A few minutes later, she reached in her purse and grabbed her phone, expecting a call from her best friend, Catherine “Cat” Maxwell. She placed her cell on the edge of the tub, and stepped inside. Immersing herself in the water, she sank back. The soothing warmth did nothing to ease the dull throb of her body. A one-night stand was a great fantasy but it wasn’t her style. A long-term man would only be a distraction. So where did that leave her?
Beside her, the phone rang. Lauren sat up, wiped her hand on a towel and reached for it. “How’s the new advertising exec feeling?” Cat asked.
Lauren smiled into the phone and leaned back once more. “I’m only an intern. Very low on the totem pole.”
“You’ll be an exec in no time. You’ve worked two jobs for years. With one you’ll shine. So, let’s celebrate in style and go to the Red Apple Club.”
“What is the Red Apple Club and why do I know it will cost way more money than I have?”
“I have this contact that told me this is the ‘it’ place for advertising people, which means it’s where you should be.”
That Lauren had a contact wasn’t a surprise. As a reporter of The New York Times she was well connected. She was also rich. Something that despite their friendship often made Lauren uncomfortable.
“Like I said, sounds like money I don’t have. No. I don’t think so.”
“Don’t get on the money kick again. This is on me and I won’t argue with you about it. And before you say you have nothing to wear, borrow from me. You’re already raiding my work wardrobe. Grab something fun and sexy while you’re at it.”
“Cat—”
“Stop Lauren. Do as I say. You have a key to my place and use it. We’re going out. Besides, I hear the Red Apple is packed with prime men. Lord knows you need one.”
“I do not need a man,” she lied.
“Okay, sex. You need sex, and don’t lie.”
“There is a difference between want and need,” Lauren said, but she wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince Cat or herself.
“Not when it’s been as long as it has for you,” Cat retorted. “You’re damn near a medical emergency.”
“Enough about my sex life—”
“You mean lack of,” Cat said, cutting her off.
Lauren rolled her eyes. “Stop already. I’m in the bath and my water is getting cold.”
“Say yes to tomorrow night and I’ll hang up.”
“Fine. Yes.”
Cat laughed. “Talk to you tomorrow. Love ya, sweetie.”
And then the line went dead. Lauren frowned at her phone as she disposed of it on the edge of the tub. Why had she just agreed to a night out? The question and possible answers ran through her mind for the next thirty minutes. Finally, dressed in her boxers and t-shirt, she sat on the edge of the bed, and hit the play button on her VCR remote control.
The first thing she heard was, “I want you, Tara.”
For the next ten minutes, Lauren stared at the television as one of Tara’s admirers did a delicious job of stripping her naked. Lauren pulsed with desire. Her nipples tingled and she could feel the dampness of arousal between her legs.
And she knew, she had to do something about this burn her body had created. She needed her own red-hot secret.

Posted by Lisa Renee Jones :: 2:01 PM :: 1 comments