Page 1 of Gina's Fantasy

Chapter One

Flynn looked at the small black and silver digital recorder he had pulled from his pocket and laid on his dresser just a moment before. His fingers twitched with the urge to push PLAY. Gina had told him she used it to capture additions to her many to-do lists, ideas for her volunteer activities, new book ideas, and whatever other random other thoughts crossed her mind that she did not want to lose.

He had once wondered when she had time to type up the verbal notes she made, but she said she worked straight from the verbal notes instead of typing them up. When he asked her what secrets she told the recorder, she smiled that smile that knocked every thought out of his head except the need to push her up against the wall and kiss her.

“Things I need to remember. Thoughts I can’t share with anyone else. Secrets and fantasies others might not understand.”

He wanted to tell her she could share anything with him but held his tongue. If she shared all her secrets, would she expect the same from him? Did he really want to know all the random thoughts she caught on the digital recorder?

Picking up the rectangular box, he cradled it in his left hand as he debated whether he should invade Gina’s privacy or not. Should he listen to her words, her secret thoughts?

How had she gotten it into his pocket? He had stopped by for one of his occasional visits and had hung his jacket on the hook by the front door. She had not gone near it, or so he thought. Maybe while he was in the bathroom after the hot-hot-hot sex they always engaged in when he was there? Or when she had given him the hug she always gifted him with just before he left?

As he shifted the recorder to his right hand, a flash of color on the back snagged his attention. It was a bright pink sticky with the words track six written on it. Did she mean the message for him? Had she purposely slipped the recorder into his pocket for him? He had started teasing her about telling the machine all the deep, dark sexual fantasies she had never shared with him because she claimed she could not say the words aloud with him looking at her.

Though she wrote three-alarm, white-hot erotic romance ebooks, Gina had been raised to be a good Carolina girl. And good Southern girls never talked about their secret wishes and dreams. With anyone.

Since they had started sleeping together the year before, they had fulfilled all sorts of fantasies of his. Not only did Gina like the daring places, times, and ways they had enjoyed each other’s bodies, she had yet to refuse any challenge he put before her. Whether it was late-night sex in the back seat of her car in the parking lot of her office, to showing up at one of their mutual volunteer efforts wearing only a bra under her short dress, she was up for anything. The only downfall was that she still had a hard time verbalizing her wants, needs, and desires. Would listening to track six yield any insight to her thinking? Had she finally given in to his request and recorded the sexual fantasy she most wanted to live out with him?

He swore softly as blood began to pool in his loins as he thought about what he might learn about his woman. Was he was daring enough to push the button? He set the recorder back on the counter. After refilling his coffee mug, he stood and stared at the machine as his cock tented the front of his sweatpants.

Since he had the day off from his job as a county sheriff, he had planned to spend the rest of the day in his comfy clothes, working on the seemingly endless shit-to-do list which hung from the refrigerator.

And he would.

In a few minutes.

Just as soon as he listened to her dictation.

Picking the recorder up once more, Flynn studied it. Though she had listed track six in her note, he pulled up the first file and pushed play. Holding the tiny speaker to his ear, he frowned. Her voice was too soft to make out her words clearly. His cock began to throb as he went to the front hallway where his MP3 player sat plugged into its charger.

He pulled his headphones from the tiny music player and plugged them into the recorder. Slipping the ear buds into his ears, he sighed once he could hear clearly. He smiled as the sound of her husky voice washed over and through him.

It took only a few seconds to realize the first track was a shopping list.

The next track was a random to-do list.

The third contained a thank you note to a friend for the birthday gift she received, though her birthday was not for another two weeks.

He hesitated before pushing the button for the next track as his conscience prinked at him. Was he invading her privacy by listening to all the files? Surely, she had to know his curiosity would prevent him from only listening to the one track she told him to.

Shoving down momentary recriminations, he pushed the button for track four and listened to silence for several long seconds. The same dark silence met him on track five. Then he pushed the button for track six and found himself holding his breath as he waited for her to speak.

****

The day before.

Gina sat in the Adirondack chair her brother had built her and stared across the backyard. Her heart squeezed with a strange combination of joy of finally being in the home she had dreamed about all her life and a hot bitterness that Flynn was not here to share it with her.

Sure, Flynn had his own home, his own life, and did not seem interested in letting her into it, but she was tired of hearing from him only when he was horny or bored at work. Their relationship, if it could be called that, had been unconventional from the beginning, and though she wrote unconventional books for a living, Gina was really a conventional, old-fashioned kind of woman.

After more than three years of late-night phone calls full of daring fantasies and erotic imaginings, and once-or-twice-a-month, fly-by visits where he always seemed to leave in a hurry to be somewhere else afterward, Gina had decided it was time to challenge Flynn to step up or step off. His suggestion of talking out her deepest, darkest fantasy for him to use as a step-by-step directive in pleasing her seemed like the perfect way to let him know how she felt.

If only she had the courage to say aloud that she was tired of being the dirty little secret hidden in the back of what must be a skeleton-filled closet. That she needed to be more than an entry on his endless to-do list, an entry that he may or may not get to this week.

She wanted more than a phone call every couple of weeks or a visit when his female roommate, who Gina wondered whether or not was really just a roommate, was at work or out of town, or he could slip away from whatever he was doing in the evening. If she were a just a roommate, why did he take her out on dates and not Gina?

Why couldn’t he tell her how he felt without using that evasive male language that just confused her and made her question everything?

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