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An Excerpt from MALE ORDER
Copyright (c) AMY RUTTAN 2011
All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.
When the clock chimed ten in the morning my heart beat a little bit faster. I ran to the front window and peeked through the drapes, from the open window I could hear my neighbor’s mailbox squeaking. I could also hear the sound of his iPod blasting out a steady beat of hip-hop music, which kept him moving as he walked his route. Usually I wasn’t this excited about the prospect of getting mail—that was until about four months ago, when the mail started coming later.
I was very pleased to find out why when I met the new mailman Bastien.
Letting the curtain I was clutching drop back into place I ran to the entrance way and stood in front of the mirror above the cherry wood table where I usually dumped my keys. I straightened my tight, white halter top and ran a hand over my already-smooth hair.
I can’t believe I’m going to do this.
It was something I had been fantasizing about for months, ever since Bastien had started delivering the mail in my neighborhood. I had been living a somewhat cloistered life since my divorce. I settled into a routine, and the days began to blur into one another. It was the day I went out at eight to get my mail and it wasn’t there. It freaked me out. It was part of my routine, it broke up my day.
So I waited in my sweats, clutching a cup of coffee watching for Hank the mailman. Instead I learned that morning Hank had retired and was replaced by a thirty-something, muscle-honed, ebony Adonis.
The Adonis handed me my mail, tipped his hat and said “Ma’am” in a honeyed southern drawl that made my toes curl in my Crocs. His chocolate eyes seemed to take me, and I couldn’t help but picture all the naughty things we could do together. Yet, in my shocked state of mind, all I could do was push my glasses back up the bridge of my
nose, take the mail and then run inside to hide my crazy, bag lady-type appearance from him.
Bastien delivered the mail around ten in the morning. He always had a bright smile and a suggestive look in his eyes. I began to fantasize about him when I pleasured myself at night—it was his face, his body I pictured thrusting into me.
The mailman of all people!