Whom You Go Home With

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"It's about damn time." Zoë pulls Richard's shirt collar down with her. She moans as his lips enveloped hers, sinking her deeper into the leather couch. It's been their tenth date and this one tops all of them. Who knew such a delectable man could cook up such a delectable candle lit dinner too. Her mother's got a meatloaf culinary extraordinaire to contend with! As for Zoë, she'll be lucky if she can crack eggshells.

The doorbell rings.

"Ignore them," said Richard. "I'm not passing out my treat tonight."

Zoë laughs, looping both arms around his neck to draw him nearer. "I'm not sharing either." Richard bites his lip and begins to remove her shirt as he wrestles the back of her bra loose.

"You got a dog?" Zoë asks. The menacing growl from down the dark hallway has gotten louder. He kisses her deeper as though to deliberately ignore her question.

"You hear that?" Zoë pulls from his kiss, insisting he answer her. She turns her head toward the dark hallway to see two bright green eyes peering at them. She jolts off the couch, sending Richard flying to the ground. He rubs the back of his head and glances toward the clock hanging on the wall.

"What was that for?" He asks.

She glances at him. "What the hell is that?" She points toward the green orbs in the hallways. They're gone.

"I swear, I saw something there. Do you have a dog, a pet of some sort?" Zoë stutters, " I swear I heard growling from an animal."

"No, I don't have an animal here - no lions, tigers, or hippos, let alone, dogs. You're just...too excited? C'mon." He sinks her back into the couch and streams a steady flow of kisses all over her naval, then up her naked torso, pass her bra and toward her neck. But Zoë couldn't focus. Every sense of arousal she felt had vanished, that is until she felt his tongue dancing gracefully in her mouth. She concluded it's the Chardonnay acting up thirty minutes before midnight.

She allows herself to immerse in the pleasure of her host's sexy rock-hard abs. For a mid-thirty year-old man, Richard's got an awesome, steamy body. His husky voice and light blue eyes garnered much of her interest a month ago when he helped start her car outside a Target parking lot. Now she'd sneak into the gym every Wednesday to watch him work out his frustration on a bag kit - sweating in boxing gloves and loose shorts that hung too low on those tight buttocks.

Mmhhh, he sure tastes good. Zoë smiles as her arousal returns. One month in and she is done with the fancy dinners, the movie dates, the...ogling. It is time to bed this man! She glances at him to see him glancing at the clock ticking on the wall. She's confused, how could he be mentally preoccupied when he's got a skintight twenty-five year old underneath him?

She loosens up, kissing him harder to force his undivided attention but she cocks here head when the growling returns. She glances toward the hallway and suddenly sees a dark shadow with several legs running across the living room floor. She pushes Richard off and jolts to her feet. "I saw that! I saw that! Something just ran across your floor!"

Zoë grabs her shirt, slips it over her head and bolts for the front door. Her legs feel like wobbling over and her adrenaline is on high gear. "I gotta go. I can't stay here. S-something is not right!"

The door's locked. She turns the lock over several times but the door doesn't budge. Richard saunters over with a grin and he flushes her back against the door, trapping her in between his arms.

"I told you not to down that entire bottle of wine." He chuckles.

"No, no Richard. It's not the wine anymore. There's something going on here; something is in your house. Is - is your house haunted?" She wanted to kick herself for asking such a ridiculous question.

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