Death Takes a Holiday


Genre: Paranormal, Erotica
Publisher: Cobblestone Press
Length: Super Short Story
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She is in the after-hours bar to do her job. It’s not-so-tough and yes, someone has to do it. When she meets Jake, however, the dark haired, blue-eyed bartender, her curiosity—and sexual interest—is piqued. There couldn’t possibly be anything wrong with putting a little pleasure before business…

The mystery woman with luxurious taste might be a little out of his league, but Jake is lured by her beauty and innate sensuality. She gifts him with one incredible night of pleasure and he’s happy to indulge without thought to consequences. But could her price be higher than he ever imagined?



Seventy-two minutes ago, this man’s tongue hadn’t been dancing with mine nor his hands slowly peeling away my clothes. The bar’s lights hadn’t been dimmed, the room devoid of imbibing patrons. No, a little more than an hour ago, I was just another single woman drinking a rich red wine. Studying him.

On another night I might not have let him notice me, but blue eyes set inside a rugged face made me forget myself. Dark curls of his head seemed purposely tousled yet casually styled. He could be considered clean-shaven except for the light fuzz darkening a strong chin and shadowing his jawline. I’d bet money his skin had been smooth before his night started. Hours of being on his feet, serving the lonely and the drunk, resulted in the collar of his starched white shirt being loose, the forest green tie yawing off-center.

Once upon a time I would have drawn him to me by poising an unlit cigarette next to ruby red lips, perfectly outlined and glistening. In the health conscious twenty-first century, I settled for placing my order instead. “The Bordeaux.”

Dark eyebrows lifted just a fraction. I wasn’t sure if he questioned my choice because of its exorbitant price tag or because of the way it was presented. “We only serve it by the bottle.”

Presentation then. I liked that he didn’t mind my taste, which had always been luxuriant. “Join me? No sense in letting good wine go to waste.”

His lips parted in a quick smile, the amusement reaching his eyes. “If only.” He glanced at the stragglers seated around me. “But I’m on the clock.”

“Open the bottle. I’ll make sure to still be working on it when your time is your own.”

I felt his indecision as he studied me, trying to weigh the seriousness of my offer. Little did he realize we had a date later, whether he wanted it or not. I merely offered him an opportunity to relax for a few minutes before then.

Holiday music played around us—some instrumental version of “Jingle Bells“—subtle but loud enough to remind everyone of the season. I enjoyed its melodic beat as I waited.

In a few hours, before the sun had risen to signal the beginning of another Christmas day, I’d take his life. Not because I disliked him or because he’d done anything against me. He’d cease breathing simply because it would be his time to go. My job meant ensuring his transition.

But the longer I sipped, allowing the decadence of alcohol to soothe what was left of my soul, the longer I watched Jake at his craft. He smiled at pretty women, joked with heavy tipping men. Complex drinks were made as if old hat and bottles of liquor poured with care. And gods, his hands were magical. He caught me staring at them more than once, and his face lit up brilliantly with a perfect smile each and every time.

When half of the Bordeaux remained, he made his way to my end of the bar. Those strong fingers wrapped around the bottle, inciting a jump of jealousy inside my skin. He tipped a portion of wine into my empty glass. “Still working on it, I see,” he said.

I made a point of scanning the empty room. “And here we are. Alone at last.” Reaching forward, I procured a glass from the drying rack near me. “Have a drink, Jake. It’s been a long night.”

He waited until I’d spilled a healthy portion for him before he touched my hand. “How did you know my name?”

My lips curved into a sly grin. The lie offered next came easily. “Eavesdropping.”

Jake lifted the glass to his mouth. I watched with growing fascination as his throat danced a hypnotic rhythm, the alcohol making its way down. He lowered the empty container, his eyelids lifting. His gaze riveted to mine. Without speaking, he turned away from me, and once again, I followed him visually. With an artist’s appreciation I watched the gloriousness of his ass as it moved toward the end of the bar. Without knowing all his thoughts, I knew his awareness of my attention. When he turned the lock in the door leading outside, I knew he’d read my mind as well.

Jake’s lips were moist, a trace of wine still lingering. Nothing could pull my attention away from them; something about their ripeness stroking me deep inside. My pussy moistened, reacting strongly to the mental image of tasting those lips with my tongue.

He walked toward me, this time on my side of the bar. Slowly. Seductively. There was a glint of wickedness in his eyes, and I liked it. After stopping, his hands rested on the outside of my thighs. The wickedness then became a question of permission. Without speaking, I dipped my head, an ever subtle lowering of my chin, acknowledging him and what we both wanted. I hadn’t gotten myself nicely buzzed for no reason.

Jake’s hand twisted into my hair, slipping through my own unruly waves of locks to grasp my skull. His fingers tightened, the pain mushrooming into spiraling pleasure. It left me dizzy and gasping.

“God damn, you’re beautiful,” he murmured, his lips grazing mine.

I whimpered in reply.

He pulled hard on my hair, forcing my face to tilt more toward his. His lips on mine was less of a kiss and more like possessive capture. Jake released a domineering growl as his teeth grazed my bottom lip. He bit down before thrusting his tongue into my mouth where it tangled ever so deliciously with mine. The woodsy scent of the wine filled my senses, tasting better on him than it had in the glass.

His free hand went to my breast, squeezing hard. A low throaty sound echoed from Jake and into my mouth, his satisfaction so evident, a surge of pride filled me. I reacted strongly to his dominance, to the way that hand slid into my dress, pushing the material aside. Jake stood between my thighs, one of my breasts exposed, the nipple hardening as he pinched its coral tip.