May Robbins is organizing a role-playing game convention for her company, Epicentre. She has been so focused on her career that she has taken no time for love. She has grown enamored of her neighbor, a shy, older man named Tyler Snow. Circumstances bring the two together, and May takes a bold chance with Tyler. Soon after, a surprise at work reveals that there is more to Tyler than May realized. Afterward, they decide to explore each other's fantasies—and with the help of a friend, they open themselves to a new world of wonder.
Tyler Snow, an older man who was a bit of a recluse, sat reading on his half of the front porch. He’d moved into the unoccupied half of the duplex about two months ago. He was quiet, polite, and had been nice to her on the few occasions May had crossed paths with him. As a result, she had developed a bit of a crush on him. She smiled as she climbed out of her car and walked to the door.
He stood, as he always did when she approached. Always such a gentleman.
“Good evening, Mister Snow,” she said with a smile.
He returned her smile.
“Good evening, Miss Robbins. How goes the convention?”
May made a noise. “One would think one of the sorcerers would have devised a bathing spell by now.”
Mister Snow chuckled—well, more like an oh, you wacky kids chuckle and something...smokier? She couldn’t pin a name to it, but she always loved hearing it. The chuckle suited him perfectly and made her toes curl.
“Well, you pack that many people into a small space, the odds are you’ll get a few ripe ones,” he said. “I worked with a guy years ago—he was a great guy, don’t get me wrong—but hygiene was a bit lower on his list of priorities than the rest of us would’ve liked. A handkerchief with a few dabs of lavender does wonders, I found.”
“Oh, that’s a thought. I’ll have to try that.” She smiled warmly. “Thanks!”
“Happy to help.” He inclined his head.
They chatted idly for a few more moments, then each made their way inside. He into his half of the building, and she into hers. She let her eyes linger on him as he went through his door.
He was tall. Easily six feet, maybe more, and he had a slender build. He obviously wasn’t someone who’d spent time doing physical labor. He also had a thin face he usually kept cleanly shaven, but he occasionally let a little stubble grow. On the days he shaved, he smelled of Old Spice. But on the days he didn’t, she always caught the barest whiff of his own special scent, a bit like sandalwood, but not as sharp. His dark brown hair was lightly seasoned with gray, but his face was unlined. She knew from a prior conversation that he was in his mid-thirties, but the early gray and his care-worn face made him look older.
He wore glasses, too, with little round wire frames that always slid down his nose. He usually looked at her over his glasses with those penetrating blue eyes. Even during a casual conversation, he seemed to stare straight into the depths of her soul. Those kind eyes were never stern, and he never seemed to judge her. His eyes were just...intense. Knowing. As if they were filled with the wisdom of the universe.
May swallowed as she closed the door. Those eyes, that voice, his scent... She bit her lip to provide a twinge of pain to distract her from other...sensations.
Taking a deep breath to shake herself out of her silly, idle reverie, she set about her evening by first taking off her work clothes, slipping out of her heels, and stepping into the shower. Soon she was clean and clad in only an oversized dress shirt and a fresh pair of panties.
Letting her skin breathe felt so good.
She returned to the living room and plopped down onto her couch, grabbing both her briefcase and the sack of fast food she’d brought home. She wasn’t particularly hungry, nor was the meal worth remembering as she tackled the occupancy issue in the Albirian Tournament room. She took note of how much space the sign-in and coffee service areas took up, and decided to move both to the hall outside the room. That change alone would allow for two more tables. She needed four, but couldn’t make any more changes. Rippen and his crew would just have to hope Lady Pickaxe was feeling charitable.
May smiled, remembering what Mister Snow had said—and also remembering she had some rather lovely jasmine and sandalwood scented bath oils and candles. She toyed with a ginger lock of her hair as her gaze drifted from the floor plans to the wall separating their domiciles.
Seeing Mister Snow—Tyler—tonight had brought up questions for her. Had she been so long without a man that when one treated her with respect, she experienced such…stirrings? One of the biggest problems in her relationship with Chris had been her inexperience, because she had been new to the ideas of sexuality and sexual identity. He had tried to mold her, but she just...wasn’t there. She supposed she could be considered very vanilla where sex was concerned, because what she and Chris had done had been mostly missionary, and never pornographic. She owned no racy magazines, and she surfed no websites. She didn’t even have a sex toy. She’d considered buying one a few times, but was always too embarrassed to do so. But when it came to masturbatory fantasies, she had turned into a proper little slut.
