Can you tell I’m a Tom Jones fan? I’m a fan for a whole bunch of reasons. He’s a terrific singer, I love his song selection, and in the day he was incredibly sexy. But the real reason I’m a fan? I spent a year or so working with Tom – though not on the set 🙂 He shot 24 episodes of The Tom Jones Show in 1980 and 1981 and the lawyer I worked for at the time was an executive producer on the show. We spent a lot of time with Tom and his guests over that year and I was at the taping of probably 15 or 16 of those 24 shows. The things I learned about Tom were these: he was a true gentleman, no matter what went wrong on the set (and there were a myriad of problems), whether a guest made a mistake or the dancers did something wrong, he would always ask for another take because it was his fault. He treated everyone with respect and was incredibly patient with the cast and crew.
And who doesn’t love What’s New, Pussycat? I don’t know why – after all these years – this title came to me, but I can tell you that the song ran through my head the entire time I spent writing this story. Have you ever spent a summer looking over your fence at the carpenter/contractor/roofer/plumber working next door? That’s exactly what happens in What’s New, Pussycat?
Versa heard the humming before the deep, sexy growl kicked in with the words. He never sang any other song, only that one Tom Jones oldie, and she didn’t care. She’d spent all summer listening—and watching—and she was just about fed up with trying to ignore the need she felt. She had a desperate urge to march right over to the construction zone next door and…
She’d grab that face she’d been watching for months, pull those smiling lips down to hers, and kiss the hell out of him before she dragged him across the dirt and dust and trampled bushes of the yard next door, through her perfectly manicured lawn, and right on upstairs to her big shower.
First, she’d taste every inch of him while she washed the sweat from his glorious body. She’d seen it almost every day, dripping wet. He often stepped outside, ripped off his shirt, and ran the hose over his torso.
The sight of tanned, sculpted chest and back got her throbbing. When he threw back his head and laughed, her pussy started to drip. Every. Single. Damn. Day.
For almost four months. She’d lasted almost four months. Versa didn’t think she’d last much longer without giving in to her increasingly overwhelming urges.
Face flushing with anticipation, Versa tried to ignore her racing pulse and her aching nipples. She didn’t have the nerve for it. She’d been through too much in the past ten years. A bad marriage. A miserable two years trying to get out of it. And a failed and boring relationship trying to get herself back in the game.
Even one as sexy, as tempting, as fuckable as Theo?
Not yet. Maybe not ever.
She wasn’t ready, might never be ready again. If she could convince him that it was just sex and he’d actually treat it that way… But no. In Versa’s experience, all men professed they weren’t interested in a relationship until their cocks took over, right after the first orgasm. Once that happened, their cocks convinced them a relationship was necessary.
Because their cocks had an agenda: sex, sex, and more sex.
If you’re interested in reading more, check it out at Cobblestone Press
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