Sunday 3 February 2013

Beautiful - The Word Count Podcast

If you've never heard of R.B. Wood and his podcast, I recommend heading there now. I participated for the first time this week, reading the first half of Beautiful. I thought I could read the whole thing, but I ended up with 10 minutes LONG before the end. So, I'm posting the entire story here.


Sitting at her make-up table, she carefully applied a heavy liner to her eye. They were liquid and dark, cow eyes. She'd been told they were eyes a person could drown in. Would anyone fall into those pools tonight? Would she find someone to bring home, to make her feel... anything but the discomfort that came from walking around in the wrong skin?

It had been months since Eric, since someone had been with her for more than one night. She knew she wanted more than a one-night stand, but she would take what she could get.

It would get better.

She repeated the mantra, closing her eyes and one fist around the tiny brush full of shadow. She would not let the despair claim her. She was going to have a fabulous night.

Smiling — a very small smile — she opened her eyes to look down at the deep red chemise falling just over the top of the matching garter. Smoothing the satin unnecessarily, she soothed herself, finding joy in beauty. From the roses on the dressing table, to her lingerie, to the netting over the bed, she had spared little expense. On the whole, it was still cheaper than the endless rounds of medication, and it seemed at least as effective.

Fortified, she turned back to the mirror and was not disappointed. The application of color had transformed her from the mousy office staffer into someone stunning. Her eyebrows were plucked and shaped. Her eyes appeared larger just from liner alone. The shape of her face was less square thanks to properly applied foundation and blush – made softer, rounder. She thought she looked inviting, even though she had never been a good judge of feminine allure. This style or that appealed to her, usually based on how a woman with a similar feature wore it, but not the women themselves. Her reflected nose wrinkled at the thought.

With a last swipe of lip stain, she rose from the table, stretching and feeling the satin move on her skin. Damn she needed to get laid. If her clothes could turn her on this easily, how quick would she be to take home the first man to bump into her? The black lycra material fit her form, her small breasts hugged and pushed very slightly upward. She would never have impressive cleavage, but what she had, she displayed. Then she set bright studded combs into her hair, perfect for catching the lights on the dance floor. Sitting on her lace ruffled duvet, she crossed a leg and slowly rolled a back-seamed silk stocking over it. Pointing her toes and rolling up to the clip waiting at her garter, she admired the effect. Pale legs, waxed to smoothness, were made even more soft, more touchable, by the smoky silk. After repeating the process, she stepped into her red-soled Louboutins. It had taken a lot of string pulling and hard cash to get her size, but she had them. Beautiful black straps hugging her foot over silken stockings. The inches the heels added almost guaranteed she'd be over half the heads in the club; she tried not to think about that. After all, putting these shoes on was the equivalent of any one of her anti-depressants.

The doctors never agreed with her on that, but she was adamant. Touching, looking at and wearing beautiful things made her feel more beautiful, more natural, like she fit in for once. She never skipped her prescriptions, needing more help, not less. Calling a cab, she added accessories, a bracelet, a choker, earrings – each would add to her sparkle tonight. If there was a God, she wouldn't come home alone. Thinking about that, she should check she was prepared. Condoms were in the night stand drawer, but... A small black bag hanging from a silver chain was the last thing she grabbed, light shining off chain and bracelet, both segmented links of metal. Opening it, she found three square packages inside and sighed in relief. Hanging the bag from shoulder, she strode confidently out to her waiting cab.

The driver's eyes followed her leg as it entered his cab. She could almost feel that gaze like a caress and felt herself flushing. Tonight was going to be perfect, she decided. It didn't matter that she was going alone – she wasn't coming home that way. "Club Donovan, please," she said, her voice never as languid as she would like. It was sultry though, smooth and rolling. She took care never to rush when speaking as it lost that quality.

"Yes, ma'am," the driver answered with a smile. "Meeting someone there?"

"I hope so," she said with smile of her own.

His broadened. "I'm sure you will have no lack of people wanting to meet you."

The club wasn't far and she fished out a ten while leaning toward the driver as he took the cab out of gear. He looked over her chest and up to her eyes. She winked at him, slipping the ten into his hand and kissing his cheek. "Thank you," she murmured, loving the way he shivered. Yes, perfect.

She passed the familiar bouncer who waved off her proffered cover fee. "Go on. That's just for the tourists," he said smiling. Before she passed through, he put his lips to her ear. He actually had to stretch slightly to do so. "You look amazing tonight. Good luck."

Blushing again, she brushed a lock of hair into place. "Thank you," she murmured in reply. With a mental shake she straightened, chin high, and strode with confidence through the door held for her.

Bass assaulted her, beating against her in waves. Bodies filled the dance floor, nearly crushed together. Rather than get a drink, she went straight there, forcing her way into the milling throng, using hips and shoulders to make a space and then to emphasize her shape as she moved them in time to the beat.

Several minutes and no partners later, she needed something to slake the thirst. None of the men who had held her hips and moved in time with her stayed long, so she approached the bar alone.

"Stella Artois, please."

The bartender smiled at her warmly and nodded to her as he popped the cap from the bottle. She passed him cash in return, and he shouted, "Looking hot tonight, Stella." Again, she averted her eyes, overcome by the compliment. Like the bouncer, he'd seen her here many times before, known how hard she was working to make herself look and feel this good. Neither knew her name. Neither needed to.

Her breath caught as a chest was suddenly stretched very close to hers, a very masculine, broad chest. Her eyes still downcast, she hadn't seen him approach and barely registered his order. He didn't move quickly, probably sensing how excited she had just gotten. She could still feel a slight tug in her groin, a twitch, as much as she tried to deny or ignore it.

Eyes down, she stared at his brass belt buckle. The thick material of his jeans bulged where he filled them, and she resisted licking her lips. Working up, he wore a white button down shirt, unbuttoned half-way to reveal that waxed chest she'd been admiring a moment before. She could see the very slight shadow where his hair normally grew, scattered liberally across both pecs.

Managing not to lick it, she did bite her lip as she traced his stubbled jaw with her eye, his plump rosy lips. If he had a fault, it was his nose. It had been broken, making it bulge at the bridge, and was slightly longer than his proportions allowed, but it rested between warm brown eyes, dancing with mirth. She couldn't help but return the smile that barely touched his lips but radiated from those eyes.

"Hi," he said in a gruff voice. She could easily imagine it shouting from the stands at a sporting event. She would guess, football.

"Hi," she answered, once again wishing her voice were a little higher, a little more feminine. As it was, it was tense from holding back her own attraction to this man. She took a deep swallow of her beer to try to loosen her throat. It was better if she let her voice go low, make it long and drawling. "Good night?" she asked.

"Very good." She felt as much as saw his eyes travelling her body. Closing her eyes, she relished it. The stirring between her legs intensified, the feeling of tightness. Her brow creased with it. "I'm sorry," he murmured, turning.

Her eyes flew open. "No! Don't go," the first had been almost a shout, guttural; the latter in her affected drawl, inviting.

He smiled and put an elbow on the bar. "Why would I go unless you want me to leave?" His hand stretched out, the back of one finger stroking her cheek. She tilted her head toward it. His smile grew. "What's your name, my sweet?" he asked, not moving his hand far, down her throat, along her choker.

She did lick her lips this time, looking away briefly. "Stella," she said finally, eyes leaving her bottle.

He chuckled, taking a swig from his own. "Sure, you can call me Bud," he teased, raising the brown bottle to her, Budweiser.

She chuckled, low and throaty. His eyes became hooded and he moved a little closer to her. She held her breath, hoping nothing would spoil the moment.

"You know," he told her, eyes locked on her lips, "I was watching you dance, imagining your body moving with mine." His eyes came to hers then and she smiled in encouragement. He took it, one hand sliding over the back seam that travelled straight up and under her short skirt. "Imagined you pressed against me."

"Why didn't you dance with me, then?" she asked with a smirk.

He looked away. "I'm not much of a dancer."

"I don't know, Bud," she said, consonants emphasized with a rolling of her lips and click of her tongue. "You seem to be moving with me just fine." She put a hand to his shoulder, turning suddenly.

His hand, once on her buttock was now on her pelvis, fingers pointed down. Breath ruffling her hair, he sighed into her. Even in these heels he topped her, if only by an inch, and so the back of her head filled his vision. He pulled her back into him. She felt the bulge in his jeans that she had admired earlier and prayed he wouldn't slide his hand down. Things were exactly where she wanted them right now, where she needed them.

"I can imagine myself..." the hand started to slide, but she stopped it in its tracks by moving her ass up and down the ridge of his jeans.

"I'm imagining you here." Most men, in her experience, seemed more interested in a girl offering anal. Bud didn't seem an exception.

"Really?" His voice caught a little in his throat, choking on surprise. "Well, why are we imagining?" His lips closed on her ear, nipping the shell lightly and making her shudder against him, clenching her ass slightly, almost pulling on him as she did. "Fuck, let's get the hell out of here," he complained, setting his half-empty bottle on the bar.

She took one last swallow before placing hers beside it. "Let's," she echoed. "Did you drive? I cabbed."

"Me too," he said.

"Allow me, then," she said stepping to the curb and selecting their ride home. She gave the driver her address as Bud slid in beside her.

"Your place?" he asked, surprised. "I don't mind mine, you know." He started kissing up her shoulder toward the chain holding her bag. "If you'd rather not invite a stranger into your house."

She turned, pulling his chin up to kiss the lips that had been tempting her all night. "I don't mind." The words rolled from her tongue, which then flicked out to touch the tip of his top lip.

"Damn," he murmured leaning forward again. "I'm going to blow. You are sin incarnate."

She smiled, adoring the compliment, adoring the knowledge that she was turning him on as much as he was her. She wanted to ease his mind and his pants, but the ride was too short.

"Follow me," she said, taking his hand. She nearly pushed him into the overstuffed chair just past the front door. He pulled her onto his lap, mouth finding hers in greedy kisses.

"Fuck you taste good. I haven't had... Shit," he cursed again as she slid down between his splayed legs, rubbing against him.

"Neither have I, not in months," she agreed, slowly drawing the zipper of his fly down. "So how about I relieve this?" she asked, stroking his length through the fabric of his briefs.

His head tilted back, hips lifting to her. "I might need that," he agreed, fingers plunging into her hair, twisting in it to keep her close.

Working him out proved more difficult than she expected, jeans and briefs were both tight, but it meant he was even longer and thicker than she had anticipated. The tightness in her groin intensified as she exposed the dark red, rigid member. A bead was already forming at the tip and she licked her lips in anticipation.

"Wait," he murmured. His abs weren't flat and they buckled now as he bent to kiss her again, tongue exploring her lips and mouth. Her breath caught first in surprise and again seconds later, in passion. Her hand gripped his wrist where it emerged from her hair near her ear and stroked toward his elbow, twisting and sliding, just as she wanted to do to his cock, showing him her appreciation. "Need those up here first," he said with a cocky grin followed by a small sigh. He relaxed, and his cock wobbled once, dipping toward his belly before standing up again.

She wrapped a hand around it eagerly, opening her mouth and wrapping lips around it.

"Shit, don't waste time, do you?"

"Umm-mmm," she hummed in the negative, feeling him tighten his thighs around her in response. Stroking, she freed her mouth long enough to say, "Nothing tastes as good as cock." Then she was running her tongue through that bead, savoring it and taking as much of the shaft as her dry lips would allow.

Neither lips nor cock were dry long. Soft skin over hard rod, she sucked and massaged over the length, pulling and pushing it with tongue and lips. Listening, she took cues, repeating what made him moan, skipping over anything that got no reaction.

"Damn, teeth," he groaned though a clenched jaw, and she let him go again.


"Fuck, no, that was fine. It was..." They suddenly realized how long she'd been blowing him, taking her time, sucking on balls or belly between long drags on his cock. "I think the edge is gone. Not sure how you managed that, but I feel like I could go forever." His grin promised as much and she was intimidated for a moment.

Pulling her to her feet, he rose with her. His hands found her cheeks, holding them as he kissed her again, walking her backwards into a wall. He pressed against her too tight groin, making her groan and rub against him.

"Like that?" he asked, pressing his knee into her.

She grunted slightly. That had hurt, if only a little.

"Oh," he muttered, obviously disappointed in her reaction.

Not giving him time to dwell on it, she took his hand and led him to her bedroom, her free hand pulling the shirt that was now completely unbuttoned, off his shoulder. It fell in a cloud of white to the floor. She pushed away from him, just long enough to pull the dress down to her hips and step out of it.

His eyes appraised her anew, taking in the deep red satin and additional skin. "Come here," he called, stepping from his fallen jeans. He pushed the briefs down to follow before sliding a hand up her back under the chemise. "You look amazing," he said. "You're sure about this?"

"Are you?" she asked. He'd stopped her so often to ask. Was it because he had second thoughts?

"Not at all. Just... never had a girl take me home before," he said with a smirk. "They don't seem to like my roughneck manners."

Smiling she pressed herself flush to him, rubbing her breasts, her nipples on his chest. "I think your manners are just fine. And I'm sure I want to feel you inside me, not just my mouth." Her mouth had moved toward his ear as she spoke and the last words were followed with her tongue, circling the shell.

He shuddered, knees shaking a little. He lifted her by the waist, taking her completely by surprise. She was actually quite heavy, a large woman, but he didn't set her down until they reached the bed.

"Wow," she murmured, impressed.

"I'd carry you further if needed," he promised. "You feel light as air to me."

A quick peck on his lips and she turned to her nightstand, pulling out condom and lube. She set both on the pillow behind him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer. She kept her legs together, one bent to draw attention to the clip holding her stocking.

He didn't seem to acknowledge the silk, instead putting a hand to the pale skin above, running calloused fingers over the soft smoothness of her upper thigh. She rolled away, exposing the cheek her thong didn't cover.

"Beautiful ass," he admired, and she felt him shift down the bed. Grabbing his hand quickly, she pulled it across herself, across her breasts, shoving her hips back to rub against his still stiff dick. He moaned and she nearly did as well. He was so hot against her skin, so hard. Pinned between the flesh of her ass, she rocked slowly, his own fluid giving a slight slide to the motion.

"God, I want you there," she whispered, lifting his hand to her lips and sucking one finger into her mouth. "I want you inside me."

Not able to resist the suggestion, Bud reached around her to open the condom. She smiled at the small ring of latex before it disappeared behind her again. Her perfect night had had no bumps yet. She might make it through this without his learning. Just a little further.

"Shouldn't we take this off?" he asked, into her shoulder, snapping the thread that flossed between her cheeks. She winced at the pain it caused, but took pleasure from it too, knowing how close they were.

"No," she answered, reaching behind to pull it aside as she squeezed him, massaging him with her ass.

He groaned. "Right."

She let go of the thong to find the lube blindly. Bud continued kissing her back as she applied some to her hands, reaching behind to slide over his covered length and then up herself. His lips on her shoulder were replaced by his forehead as she bent her knees up, spreading her cheeks open. She probed herself with a finger, moaning quietly. It felt so good to touch herself, to circle her tight hole, working it open, hooking slightly...

She was breathing heavily by the time he pulled her wrist away, his own hand taking the place of hers, first one finger, rough, rubbing just shy of too hard. It made her rock in time and nearly come in her panties. When he added a second, she did. Shuddering, the wetness spread through the fabric, mostly back toward the hole he was still working, opening.

"Holy shit," he said when the thick liquid covered his fingers. "You are so fucking wet." He had missed the consistency. She sighed in relief and moved her ass more vigorously. She was so sensitive that it was almost painful, but she wanted him, now. He took the hint and pulled his hand to himself, holding the head of his cock at her entrance. She skated over it once before catching it well enough to press back onto it. Letting it slowly fill and open her.

"Christ, you are big," she said, voice husky again.

"Too big?" he asked.

She shook her head, biting her lip again. Slip, slip, slip, until he pushed through, nudging against everything inside her she hated, but everything that felt so good in that moment.

"Fuck, God, that's good," she muttered between gasping breaths as she squeezed and squirmed on him. She was too sensitive still and it made not grinding on him difficult. It wouldn't do to hurt herself though. "Oh my God."

"Holy shit, Stella," he groaned. She could feel him throbbing against that spot inside her, that spot she denied was there. Her insides screamed at the pleasure it gave, the organ she shouldn't have, the organ that let her come again.

Who was Stella? she wondered when her mind returned to her again. The beer. It was what he called her, of course.

Relaxing, she let her mind drift with him spooned behind her.

She was half-asleep still when his hand drifted over her hip to where she had slipped out of the too tight thong.

"No!" she shouted, hoarse voice very masculine now.

The damage was done though. Bud had found her secret.

"What in the hell?" he roared, springing back from her. "What in the hell are you?" He stormed over to his pants and yanked them on without briefs. "You're a man?"

Tears filled her eyes. There was never a good way to tell someone, especially not at this point. She'd told people before, when she got to know them, but then it never got here, and she'd needed this so badly.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Sorry? Sorry doesn't tell me what you are!" he continued to scream.

"I'm wrong!" she answered in a shout. "I'm neither, I'm nothing. Fuck off," she said, turning her now-tear-streaked face to the pillow. "I'll never be right," she said, shaking with sobs. "I'm not the woman I should be."

She waited to hear the slam that always came next and nearly jumped out of her skin when the bed sank next to her.

"I'm sorry," he said. "You... you should have told me." His anger was on a very high simmer, held barely in check.

"Would you have come if I had?" she asked defiantly. "You needed what you got too." She hurled the words at him. He had been as half-blind with lust and want as she had been or it never would have worked.

He didn't argue. "That's not the point. Who are you?"

Her heart seemed to pull. It had been broken and torn a moment ago and now it gave one small pulse, a spot of light in the dark of her life.

"I'm a girl," she said adamantly. "Whatever lies my body tells, I am a girl."

"I'm not asking what you are anymore," he said softly, smoothing her hair. Her heart mended a little further. It was true. That was why it had pulsed a moment ago.

"I'm Beau," she said, hating the name. She planned to be Mary or Marie soon.

"No, Stella, Belle, you aren't 'beau.'"

He was being so kind even when she had betrayed him, while it was still sharp, cutting him.

"I will be," she said, sitting up a little to face him, legs carefully crossed to conceal herself. "They say, another year or two..." She couldn't finish, hope floundering. No man would wait years. She had to take what she could get until then.

He nodded, still stroking her head. "Give me a call then?" he asked, pulling out his wallet and extracting a business card. "I can't be comfortable like this, not for more than coffee or beers or something."

It was more than she could have asked for. She looked at the tiny rectangle of paper as though it was a board floating in the ocean and she was drowning. Maybe that's exactly what it was. He kissed her forehead. "Call me, Belle." He walked quietly from the room, picking up his shirt as he went. She watched, bewildered. She couldn't call him back, that was too much for now, he'd said so. But even to have another friend... one who might be more... later...

Belle. She liked that.