The Short Life of Dani Bea,
Chapter 1
The Murdered
Dani Bea, a free-use woman, was known to very few people. She stayed in the shadows, biding her time like a spider or a cat waiting for its next meal. For her, that meal was a man recently widowed or grieving badly over a lost family member.
She could manipulate grief as she became their best friend and lover. Whatever was on her mind was known only to her and the men she left behind, wondering what had hit them as nights of fantasy come true, wrapped by intense darkness and depression.
Many people, perhaps everyone, have fetishes that turn them on in ways nothing else can. Dani fed off their grief and their desperate need. She craved their absolute attention to satisfy the lust that owned every cell of her body. She lived alone in a converted barn built in the late 1800s, but the farmland was long gone. There were no children to care for anymore, and none that came from her body. Two pregnancies became tubal. Both ended early, and she could have no more. It was a situation that allowed her to do as she pleased. It certainly wasn’t the start of the story, nor the end.
It was evening, and Dani was at her sink washing the pan she used to make the tiny meatballs for her Italian wedding soup. She scrubbed and smiled at the irony, a soup named for an act she would never do or take seriously. She despised the ritual despite being married twice, and both failed. They were over just as they started. She couldn’t and wouldn’t change her nature for anyone. She loved how others made her feel, but her pleasure was first and foremost. Still, she took pride in her cooking. Men always wanted to come back for more. Delicious, simple foods that dripped oils and sauces put each lover in an agreeable mood. It got them over the edge of having to leave her at the end of the night. They could think about the cold-hearted ways she shut them out with a full stomach until she wanted them later. She always made sure the dates themselves were long and satisfying. No one ever thought about what she had done until they were home alone the next day with the feeling of falling out of an airplane with no ground below them and no parachute against their backs.
Her brown eyes sparkled against her chestnut brown hair with gold threaded highlights. She was just short of beautiful and took pride in and cared for her body. Yoga and swimming kept it lean and tight. God had given her breasts that men only saw in pageant queens and young porn stars. Her teeth were perfect and white, and her body was smooth from head to toe. She always wore the best mid to high heels, the hottest leggings, and tops and covered her body in Jimmy Choo, a scent that turned men into animals.
She dated many people, but men with dead wives and mothers seemed to be her fortune. Her date tonight was another widower, Roger Earl Grey, whom she found and friended about six months before his wife died. She had a knack for finding unhappy men with wives who were once their perfect women until a few months or a year before they passed. She needed no magic or psychic powers. It was about a pattern she could sense and watch, taking her time to step in.
A new man would appear in a bar or with the small friend group she socialized with. He is married and happy in it, but something is missing. He doesn’t want to sleep around. He wants to talk, dance, and walk with them. Something was troubling him, and she brought it out. There was a flag in the form of stories of a fantastic marriage that seemed to be falling apart. They voice their concerns, and she listens. They are intelligent and have fun dancing and discussing books or current events.
She took it all in as a friend, happy to fill a few hours with them but never crossing the line, and they never asked for anything. The men were married to women they loved deeply for a long time, but something was happening to them. They were going out without their wives, many with their permission. They seemed eager to be around other women again but insisted they were married, and the chat and the dancing were all they desired. Over time, the hunger in their eyes became evident as they worked out harder, drank little, and kept up a social calendar.
She didn’t have to do, say, or cause anything to happen. She just watched and waited. It was something in their wives that changed; they wanted to ensure their husbands would seek another, but they didn’t know girls like her were lying in wait. She didn’t break up marriages or get involved with married men sexually. She didn’t have to. Fate provided a list of great potentials. Their conversation, wit, and demeanor went a long way with her. She read often and enjoyed their mansplaining about anything and everything to impress her. While women around her. were sick of men and their ideas, descriptions, and awe over golf, business, or science, Dani was interested in picking up the slack. She became the friend they had wished for their whole lives.
When the men became widowers, she would hold their hand and give them sage advice until the grief was so intense that she took off her clothes and let them have her. She was generous to a fault but expected satisfaction. The hunt and the kill had always been more fun than having any man for any length of time. Unless they sent her into her screaming orgasms multiple times, she wouldn’t stop their desire for her. The less talented and interesting went on a waitlist.
Roger was talented in many delightful ways, but he began to have feelings. He thought he was ready to step into the ‘having a mistress’ fold while his wife was still alive, but he wanted a possession to coincide with what they had at home. She wasn’t interested in being owned by anyone. Her way was her cougar life, and the full schedule suited her, as well as the idea of sending them home and taking away their calm surety, knowing they had to play and behave the way she wanted. No one stayed overnight. She was hot, and she gladly gave her lovers anything they wanted on her own time.
Dani and Roger had gone out for drinks and dancing before his wife passed. She didn’t do dinner dates with male friends anymore. Another showed her the danger in that and unfriended her before she set her hooks deep. Her male friends rarely came over. She met them, or they picked her up outside her door. She still had to work and had at most three men on a weekly rotation.
After Roger’s wife’s death, he wanted to talk, and she stepped in with advice and lots of time to talk about his dearly departed. She even went to his wife’s funeral. She was just one of many friends who had met, liked, or loved the deceased. She could play a role and knew what to say. She sat in the back, letting him know she was there. He felt so sad that his love was gone and felt terrible guilt that he wanted to leave her for another woman.
Like many other widowers, Roger began pulling back, having to be asked to have coffee, putting distance between them. She took her time and met him at a Starbucks or Panera for coffee. The sadness between them subsided, and the next couple of weeks went from outside get-togethers to coffee or tea at her home. Once the funeral was over and the friends and family went home, the emptiness and silence for Roger became too much to bear. He didn’t want to stick around the house, and he didn’t want to start dating. His bed felt like a black hole that sucked all the life away where an amazing love once lay. He wanted something he couldn’t identify and broke down. He called Dani and wondered if he could come over for coffee. She gladly accepted. Her moment to pounce was upon her. She dressed casually in her La Perla bra, chocolate silk blouse, tight jeans, and fuck-me heels. She went downstairs to prepare when he knocked on the door. She opened the curtain, smiled, and let him in. She loved hugs. She held him for two minutes, gave him time to release, and led him to the living room. She told him to sit down and relax on her couch. He did so, and she brought him a cup of coffee prepared the way he liked and tea for herself. They sipped while he talked about everything.
No one realizes the thousands of words spoken in a great marriage until no one is there to receive them. Roger cried, and Dani moved close to him.
“May I hold you?” he asked.
That’s when she presented him with all her body by straddling and kissing him for the first time. She felt Roger’s heart race, and his eyes widened with anticipation. He didn’t move, so she pulled his hands to her breasts. He touched them, wanting to reach inside. Instead, Dani reached under her shirt, grabbed both bra and blouse and removed them slowly so her breasts presented two perfect globes as they dropped. He couldn’t resist what he saw and dove in. When he pressed his face against her breasts, he realized they were even more spectacular than he had imagined.
“Take off the rest of my clothes,” she said softly.
He did so, noting the lack of underwear.
“I never wear any,” she said, reading his mind.
He was hornier than ever imagined but couldn’t get his penis hard. It should have been a red flag, but grief and lust took over. Mother nature had rules you didn’t fuck with.
Dani didn’t care. She tried her mouth and then her breasts. It all felt good to Roger, but nothing filled his manhood with blood. He should have gotten up and ran from her house if any common sense had been left in him. Instead, he belonged to her when she laid back on the sofa and spread her legs.
He had answers to all the questions he never asked but wanted to know. Dani’s scent drove him down between her thighs; he needed little tutoring to produce a perfect finish. She made herself into a friend with benefits, and now he would be rotated like canned goods in a cabinet. Having great lovers regularly is what she cared about most. It was great if they got off and used her in any way, but no big deal if they couldn’t rise to the occasion. When she wanted a thorough pounding, she had simpletons with large male members for that, but they were brainless friends who were always at her beck and call morning and night. She had to work harder to impress the family man. She loved the challenge as well as the conquering feeling that made the orgasm just a bit sweeter.
Tonight, after five months of dating, twice per week, she had to tell him that she wasn’t going to accept him as a boyfriend or future husband. She knew he was far from ready, but he didn’t know it. With all of them, their bodies were telling them the rules of her game, but they weren’t listening. She loved them all in a way, but not the way they wanted.
Dani looked at Roger’s handsome looks and rugged body and turned back to continue washing her dishes. She heard a chair scrape as he rose to come near her and didn’t look at him approaching her. She wanted whatever he would do to her to be his idea.
They had been out for drinks at La Cantina, sitting outside next to a cornfield without needing cover as the tall grasses swayed. It was all laughs, smiles, a little hand-holding, and sharing tapas until he wanted to talk about their relationship if they had one. She paid after he professed his love for her again.
She shook her head, held his hand, and said, “Let’s go to my place to eat dinner. You always love it.”
That was true. Dani had received a case of varied local wines from her stepson earlier that week. It brought a smile to her face. Her family was everything to her.
At her home and after the dinner, she looked at Roger. He was slowly drinking the wine, but she could see the bottle was almost empty. She turned back to her dishes.
“Poor love,” she thought. “I’ll let him sleep it off after he turns my insides out.”
She heard her dog running down the hall of the second floor and the staircase. He probably wanted to eat, drink water, or both. He was a toy poodle who woke to every door creak and toilet flush. He didn’t bark, which was odd. He went to his bed near the door and lay down. She didn’t look but heard his little sigh.
Dani felt Roger’s steps on the floorboards and hoped Roger was coming over for the hugging, kissing, and ass-rubbing she loved. Every time they went out, he came in and held her tight, and she returned it even if he cried. She may never want a man around 24/7, but she needed that draining of her stress and rubbed and caressed him in return. He was a darling, and she gave as much as he got, but when it came to the penetration of some part of her body, it was no use; his body rejected her. Maybe a few months or a year from now would do the trick, or he would take off and block her from his whole life like many had done over the years. She still felt the slight pain of rejection because there were few like them, but she would never settle down.
Dani heard his footsteps come closer and stop. She paid attention to the sink, cleaning up the mess at the bottom. She wanted to feel his hands and his hard-on against her. For some reason, it worked when covered, but at his pace. She enjoyed anything he wanted. He stopped a few feet from her, and 20 seconds passed without a touch. He was standing near her when he pressed forward, lips to her cheek and arms around her. She could feel the heat of his body against hers and his heart racing. She had wondered what she did wrong but now felt at ease. She tried to turn and look at him but was prevented by a solid metal barrel pressed against her head. She looked up through the kitchen window, saw the flash of gunfire reflected in the glass, and felt the bullet enter her skull behind her eyes and the left side of her head buckle and blow out. She saw Roger’s face as the murderer lowered their weapon. It was the ‘fuck you’ she never expected. Roger’s eyes were closed as if he had just come in his pants. She saw his stupid grin as she fell, slammed into the sink, and then onto the floor. For a second, she saw her killer’s face turn and walk away. Then, her world went black.
If you liked this beginning, clap and let me know if you want Chapter 2
