Bedtime Stories

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Lost and Found in a Crowd by Ms. Shula

Special Education by Ms. Shula



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Lost and Found in a Crowd by Ms. Shula

A bead of sweat started at her temple, quietly rolled down the side of her neck, meandered into her cleavage and pool just under her right breast. She bent her head and blew softly into her bra. Damn, it was hot! Thank God the sun was starting to set; bringing a much-needed cool-down. They had been waiting in the park for over an hour for the concert to start, in standing room only crowds – standing shoulder-to-shoulder with other die-hard Cajun Magic fans. As it was Portia’s white & lime green sundress with the sunflowers, that looked so cool and crisp just hours ago, had wilted and was now clinging to her thighs and hips like Saran wrap. Portia shifted her weight from one sandaled foot to the other silently wishing for just a little support to lean against. She darted a quick glance over to her long-time boyfriend and adjusted her spaghetti straps. She couldn’t help but smile. Leaning up against Clarence wasn’t likely. He would probably see that as a signal for PDA and want to bear-hug her. Normally she enjoyed the familiar feel of being wrapped up in his enormous arms. But in this heat! Oh, hell no! The last thing she wanted was a big heavy, sweaty arm around her shoulders. Her legs would just have to hold her up all by themselves today.

Portia liked Clarence a lot, she really did. She might even be in love with him, but sometimes she questioned their compatibility. Admittedly he was safe and their lovemaking predictable. The most risqué thing they’d ever done was that time Clarence suggested they make love on the kitchen counter one rainy afternoon. Portia stifled a giggle. She must have wiped down that counter with Clorox a hundred times afterwards, but at least that had been spontaneous. She sighed. No doubt with a budding career at a leading law firm, good credit, great teeth, and a decent body Clarence would make a good husband; and he treated her with dignity and respect. What else did she want? Her mother had asked her that very question a couple of days ago, just after reminding her that she wasn’t getting any younger and that her biological clock was ticking so loudly it was drowning out her favorite talk show. Very funny! 

“Momma, I know he’s a good man,” Portia dragged out slowly – sighing and rolling her eyes at the same time.
“So what is the problem?” her mother demanded – more like an interrogation than maternal concern.
“Nothing is the problem, momma! I just wanna be sure we’re right for each other that’s all” Portia replied, trying as best she could to keep the irritation out of her voice.
“Right for each other? Girl, pleaseee, time and a wedding ring will make ya’ll right for each other.” Hmmmph she snorted, “that’s what wrong with some of you young women today. You get your fancy college degrees and a long job title and all of a sudden you don’t need a man!”
“I never said I didn’t need a man, momma!” Portia cried, unable to stop outrage and shrill from entering the discussion. “I’m just comfortable with my life and I don’t want to rush into marriage just because you think it’s time!” Oooohwee, how many times could they have this conversation?
“Well, just remember my words, Ms-High-And-Mighty. Good men like Clarence don’t come along every day and I would hate to see you miss out on having a family and making a home while you chasing God knows what!”

Portia knew it was only a matter of time before Clarence asked her to marry him; hell, they had been dating for almost five years. Everyone thought they were the perfect match. Both had established their careers and bank accounts, so it was the next logical step. Maybe her mother was right. What was she waiting for?

Just then the long-awaited Cajun Magic started taking the stage. The sun had finally relented and Portia felt the heat ease its stifling hold. She gently shook the hem of her now damp dress and was actually grateful she had skipped panties this morning. Such an impulsive act; so not her normal behavior for sure. But hell, they would surely be stuck up her butt by now held there with sweat and the starch from the cotton fabric. And it certainly wasn’t likely that Clarence would discover their absence.

The crowd had grown and was pressing toward the stage. It was amazing so many people loved the band’s music. What started as a couple of hundred people was now at a couple of thousand. Portia was actually glad that Clarence had insisted they get there early – even if it meant standing in the heat for over an hour. As usual, he was right. He glanced over and flashed a toothy smile – silently asking if she was ok. Portia nodded and managed to smile back without it looking like a grimace. He was good-looking she had to admit. Yes, maybe it was time. Maybe this was as good as it was gonna get. Aaah, thank God, the music was finally starting; the crowd began a slow-building roar of thunderous applause and all eyes locked on the musicians on the stage.

Portia started swaying to the music – OMG! This was her jam!! ‘Baaa-by, it’s only you and me’…that chorus and bass line took her right back to her college dorm days and her business law class! Clarence had both arms up in the air like he was taking a hoop shot – grooving like everyone else. So when Portia felt someone brush up against her from behind, she dismissed it as just another exuberant fan getting into the groove! The touch on her ass was light at first – almost imperceptible. She darted a glance at Clarence again as she shifted her position away from the stranger’s light touch as much as she could. Surely, she had mistaken this accidental breach for something more deliberate. But when he did again it didn’t take long for Portia to realize this man was rubbing her ass!! Portia tried to shift away again, but only managed to move less than a foot without bumping into the couple in front of them. She sighed and tried to concentrate on the music – certain that this stranger would realize shortly that he was invading her private space.

Portia was bumping her hips from side to side letting the music take over when this time he filled one hand with a globe of flesh and squeezed. Portia squealed out loud and Clarence responded with a wide smile while nodding his head, convinced that she had been moved by the band’s music. She tried to turn to see who the hell this was, but the press of the crowd all facing forward made it next to impossible to identify who had brazenly squeezed her ass. Could this man be any bolder? What the hell was he thinking with her boyfriend standing just inches away? She studied as many faces as she could from her peripheral vision, but they all appeared to be engrossed in the Cajun Magic. She glanced again at Clarence. How would he handle it if he knew that she was being felt up – right there in front of God and everybody? As if reading her thoughts, the stranger released his hold. Portia sighed in relief, realizing she had been holding her breath.

Portia was doin’ her thing, dancing and swaying as she settled into Cajun Magic’s thumpin’ groove basking in the now cooler breeze. She had almost forgotten about her daring stranger when she felt him begin to slowly inch up her dress from the back. Portia could feel the breeze on her thighs along with his caress across her cheeks. But this time, Portia didn’t try to turn to see her new ‘friend’, but closed her eyes – her mind’s eye following his hand. His fingers stroked and caressed her ass until she found herself gently pushing back into his grip. Maybe it was the music. Or it could have been her need for excitement. But she couldn’t remember the last time she felt this rush of excitement, so sexy and aroused. It didn’t make any sense – this was so unlike her. Her MO would have been to alert security, followed by a stern letter to the concert promoters and city officials! And Portia also knew that by not protesting, she was making a conscious decision at that point to give this stranger permission to touch her, and to follow the course of events to its climax – literally!

His touch was light but firm – alternately gripping and squeezing her soft mounds. Damn, it felt good and exciting as hell. But just as Portia got into the rhythm he laid down, he abruptly stopped again. With an almost disappointment, Portia waited for him to lower her dress. And just when she thought he had walked away leaving her exposed, she felt his hand again. Only this time, he stood closer and sliding his finger down her backside and straight for her v-jayjay! It was too late to shift or move – nothing to do but give in to the rush of physical warmth brought on by his middle finger.

Then she felt it; he had entered her pussy. He started a slow swirling motion that caused her hips to gyrate on their own. Oh my God, when did she get wet with arousal? First just the middle finger explored her core for what seemed like an eternity – in and out, making her arch her back. After establishing a twisting rhythm, he slowly pushed two fingers deep inside her. God help her! Portia couldn’t remember when Clarence had explored her like this. Her juices wet his appendages while pooling in her pubby hairs – powerless to turn off the flow. What was wrong with her? This stranger had found her sweet spot and was pushing his fingers inside her with a strong rhythm. He was in up to just past his second knuckle, he then dug deep until Portia thought her knees would buckle. As if on cue, Cajun Magic provided the perfect backbeat on the drums – the lead singer pleading, “..baaaby, I want cha. Gotta have ya!” – the crowd went crazy! He kept rotating his fingers and Portia's thighs parted wider without thought. The risk, the forbidden, the taboo made her drunk; she was like a puppet in his hands. Clarence had glanced at the look of euphoria on her face and must have thought again how much she loved the music because his gaze quickly turned back to the stage. He never questioned her flushed cheeks, the beads of sweat on her upper lip or slightly open mouth, or the fact that she was standing with her legs gapped open.

But when this stranger’s touch began a soft rhythm against her clit, Portia grabbed Clarence’s arm and titled her head to rest gently against his strong shoulder for support. Clarence answered by lacing his fingers through hers and kissing the top her head softly. My Lord! Could he not see? Could he not feel the gyration of her hips? The slight arch in her back? Didn’t he sense the erotic charge in the air? Portia was so wet she thought surely her honey, sticky and sweet, was dripping down her inner thigh. She pushed back into his hands welcoming his expertise. He teased her bud; fast then a slow stroking motion, then flicking. He jammed both fingers so far into her she felt his palm on her ass. He twisted into her, ramming into her over and over. She was sweating; hips continuing to gyrate when she almost moaned out loud – grateful that the music was loud. It was the most exquisite most divine feeling she’d had in her life. Her excitement was beyond caring about anything else but his fingers inside her. Nothing else matter but the cadence of the stranger’s appendages, and how he instinctively kept coming back to her sweet little bud as though they had been lovers for years. She didn’t care that someone behind them might see his hand on her ass, his fingers in her pussy or her proper little sundress bunched up in the back slightly exposing her thighs. It didn’t matter that the stranger thought she was probably some promiscuous whore. She didn’t care that Clarence was just mere inches from seeing the stranger’s hand. Hell No! Not tonight. Cajun Magic’s bass guitar, the lead vocals, the lyrics and, this incredible feeling was totally about her and nothing else. She couldn’t stop if she wanted to.

In and out. In and out. Twisting then directly fondling her clit. The strokes were maddening! Who knew fingers could work such magic. Somewhere she released a soft groan but didn’t recognize her own voice as he kept pushing in and out of her. Portia knew she was close to cumming like she never had with Clarence. No, this wasn’t some soft wave of comfort and joy she and Clarence had experienced in the darken room. This was different. This was a raw, gritty place Portia hadn’t been before. This was a tidal wave of emotional euphoria and physical excitement that she had only read about or overheard beauty salon patrons whisper about. This was a guttural and over-whelming building energy that threaten to bring her to her knees. He was flicking and rubbing her bud with such intensity Portia almost turned around and jumped in his arms – wrapping her legs around his hips! She couldn’t take the warm rush of good feelings.

Her orgasm started as a roar in her ears, then like warmth extending down her spine to her belly. She gripped Clarence’s hand until she was almost white-knuckled. He squeezed back just as the stranger’s fingers inside her reached a fevered pitch. He stroked, she quivered. He stroked, she gapped her legs wider. He stroked again pushing even deeper inside her all the while tweaking her clit. Before she could stop herself, she came. It was a thunderous avalanche of pure physical pleasure coupled with a forbidden exhilaration that tightened down in her core. She came in ripples that cause her legs to shake. Cajun Magic felt her orgasm and called out, “…let me love me now! Give me all of you…” Portia couldn’t stop the moan that escaped her lip! Clarence wrapped one heavy arm around Portia’s shoulder and she reached up with her hand to caress his arm. It gave her brain and hands something to do as she tried to slow her breathing and her heartbeat. This time, the sigh was heavy.

The stranger withdrew and slowly pulled her dressed back down appropriately covering her ass. The crowd continued to jump and shout to Cajun Magic’s pulsating rhythm. Portia exhaled again, glancing up at Clarence. He smiled back. The stranger’s presence retreated and Portia felt a slight breeze and the gap of empty space between them. She didn’t want to know, yet everything in her wanted to see who he was. This man that seemed to know her likes, her weak spot, her breaking point. No, it was better to leave with just the memory of their encounter. Portia concentrated on the band and slowing her breathing. Minutes past and she realized she couldn’t control her curiosity. Just one glance was all she needed to confirm that what she just experienced was not a fantasy. Portia wanted to look at the face of the man who was so intimate with her; exposing her to true ecstasy…just for one brief moment. With delicate precision, she untangled herself from Clarence’s embrace and slowly turned completely around as though she were panning the crowd.

Nothing! He was gone! What the hell? How could he have disappeared so quickly? Portia hurriedly glanced right and then left, expecting to at least catch a glimpse of him slipping away into the night. Nothing. No movement, no shift in the wall of people, no break in the crowd. How could this be? The crowd was compacted on each other. Maybe she was dreaming after all, she thought as she craned her neck back and forth to detect any motion.

Clarence turned as well, scanning the crowd. “What you lookin’ for baby?”
“Nothing. I thought I saw someone I knew,” Portia said with a distracted quiet.

No, the dampness between her legs said she wasn’t crazy – she had been finger-fucked right here in this crowd. Just as she was about turn back to the stage, Portia caught the eye of an attractive woman in tight jeans and a skimpy blue tank top standing near her. Portia noticed the woman’s nipples protruding through the sheer material, screaming sensuality. She stared and Portia stared back—their gaze locked. Wait, could she be Portia’s erotic benefactor? The woman winked and a sly smile crept across her face.

OMG! Shock and disbelief overtook Portia’s expression. Her mind was racing. But just before Portia looked away, the woman slowly lick her fingers – her gaze never leaving Portia’s. There were no words that described Portia’s surprise. She had to tell herself to close her mouth. How could this happen? Not only had she experienced her first sexual encounter with a woman, but it was her first wild-abandon climax – in a public place. This was the first time her orgasm has been palatable, leaving her shaking and trembling – and sexually sated. She and Clarence had never been so erotic, never this sensual together – and never ever engaged in this voyeuristic type behavior. Portia slowly turned back toward the stage and Cajun Magic’s jammin’ music. She took a long look at Clarence’s profile. Could this be what she had been waiting for? Maybe what she needed wasn’t a good man after all.

About Ms. Shula Divine
Ms. Shula, a self-proclaimed erotica connoisseur, has a 20-year love and fascination for all things erotic. She holds an impressive private collection of erotic sculptures and art work. Ms. Shula wrote scripts for a live erotic cabaret show in Las Vegas. Currently, she writes the "Erotic Blogspot" for ‘Oh Yea Right There – The Spot’ and is finishing her book of erotic short stories, "Sweet Potato Pie," due out early 2016. Ms. Shula is a student of Kabbalah and Bikram Yoga and makes her home in Las Vegas with her dog, Bobby Brown and 200+ pairs of designer shoes.

For more info, visit Ms. Shula via the information below:
Shula Divine
Main Website: OYRT The Spot
Twitter: @ohyearightthere


Special Education by Ms. Shula

I finally figured it out. Yep! Waiting for them to call your number at the DMV was like being in jail. Great! I was only 23 people away from freedom. Fortunately, a stop at the cleaners was the only thing left on my list. If I hurried, I might make it home in time to pull something together for dinner. As it was, I would probably have to finish part of my work project at home tonight. Yea, Rashad would be thrilled as shit to know I was working late again. When did life get so complicatedly busy? My grandmother didn’t own a cell phone or have a Twitter account, yet she always managed to get things done – including dinner, with five kids in the house. I swear there are some days I want to pull the bell and get off the fast track at the corner of Peace and Quiet – experience just one day where I didn’t have to do anything. Just then the toddler three rows back laid prostrate across his mother’s lap – kicking and screaming as loud as he could. Yep! My sentiments exactly.

I slowly scanned the crowded space marveling at all walks of humanity brought together by their cars. That’s when I first noticed the pretty young woman seated closest to me. She wasn’t one of those drop dead gorgeous women with artificial everything but was pretty in a normal sort of way. Beautiful smooth skin that looked like milk chocolate would taste. I returned her quiet smile and we struck up a casual conversation. Her name was Camille and she had the most beautiful brown eyes and lush looking mouth. We both ended up snickering at the poor mom still trying to appease her toddler and we literally laughed out loud at the 85-year old man in the driver’s license renewal line. Dear God, please don’t let this old man be getting on the road the same time I was. Time seemed to be passing quickly; they just called number G488when Camille turned and asked me a question.

Expecting to hear, “What do you do?” Camille surprised me with, “have you ever gotten one of those text messages? You know when he hits you up on his way home? ‘On my way…day from hell’!”
I nodded slowly, “...yea, I guess,” I stuttered. Except usually I was the one texting Rashad with a work generated crises and confessing I’d be late, again.
“Yeah me too,” Camille said. “It doesn’t happen that often, but when it does I treat him to a ‘Special Needs Night’!”
“A whuud?” I asked, not certain I heard her correctly.
“You know, a ‘Special Needs Night’!”
I must have looked like a special needs kid. Curious, though, nonetheless. Camille smiled big and began speaking slowly as if she were explaining new math to a small child.
“A Special Needs Night is when the world has whipped his ass all day and served up a heavy dose of ‘you ain’t shit’ and he needs a little special attention.
Special Needs Night? I had never heard of anything like that. What the hell was she talking about? I scan the room again, hoping I didn’t have to change seats. Lord, I hope she wasn’t talking about sex. Who the hell had the energy to try be sexy after working all day, taking care of two kids, a dog,and a home – ‘do you have a job or kids, Ms. Special-Needs-Night-Camille’ I silently asked?

Camille immediately scooted over to the seat next to mine, then turned to face me.
“Well, you have to plan it out. And like I said, it doesn’t happen that often, but here’s what I do.” Camille leans in even closer and in a hushed tone, “On those nights after I get one of those text messages, I quickly shower, and I pick out something that will occupy his mind while I do my special work.”
Before I could catch myself, I said, “Don’t tell me you put on Victoria Secret lingerie?” I asked incredulously. Camille looked back at me as if I had grown horns.
“Nooo! Victoria Secret lingerie is good, but on a Special Needs Night, a flimsy sheer nightie won’t cut it!”“No. No.” Camille shook her head. “I put on a little pair of cut-off booty shorts that ride up so high, he’ll be able to see…” she paused…”well, you know. Let’s just say all my assets are showing.”

My mind was racing. I couldn’t remember if I still owned any flimsy lingerie let alone a pair of booty shorts. I almost giggled as I tried to imagine Rashad’s reaction if I wore a pair of anything that exposed my ass.
Camille continued, “Then I slip on a skimpy top, like a wife beater or something, and a pair of stilettos. The color don’t matter as long as the heel is high.” I glanced down at my sensible Easy Spirit, low-heel pumps and quietly tucked my feet under me. Why was I started to feel uncomfortable?
“Finally, I make sure I smell delicious and my skin is smooth as silk. Go on, touch it! Smooth, huh?” as she extended her arm for my appraisal. Yea, her skin felt like silk alright.

“And what’s this called again?” I asked.
“Special Needs Night” Camille answered with just a hint of annoyance in her voice. “Soooo, I realize that I don’t have a lot of time so I quickly light a few incenses and candles – usually about that time I hear his car in the driveway. Perfect timing, cuz by now I’m standing at the front door waiting for him with two fingers of Hennessy.”
“In the wife-beater and booty shorts?” I asked slowly.
“Of course, silly” Camille replied in amusement.

I almost laughed out loud. Oh my God, had I ever met Rashad at the front door – with a drink no less? Was there some club that women like Camille belonged to that held classes on how to be a good wife? If so, I never got the official membership invitation. I probably wouldn’t have time to attend if I had. My demanding job didn’t leave a lot of time for me…Rashad and I managed to have sex in any left-over minutes. Ok. Maybe not great sex, but did that matter?

Camille continued her “Good Wife 101” course. “I can literally see the stress in his face, and I say, “Hey big daddy” as I hand him the drink. Then I kiss him passionately and let my lips and tongue welcome him home.”
I exhaled loudly. What a cute way to welcome your husband home. I’d have to try that sometime in my spare time. Assuming that Camille had finished her little mini sex education course, I flashed her a big smile then looked around the crowded DMV space – noticing that the toddler had finally quieted down. But Camille took a deep breath, continued on, as though she was just warming up.

“Now this is when I take him by the hand and lead him into the bathroom where his bath water is waiting.”
“…his bath water,” I choked out.
“Yes!” she all but squealed with pleasure. “Then I help him out of his clothes and into the tub, touching him in all the right places along the way.” “I let the warm water work its magic before I start washing him – slow and purposeful. I start at his neck and wash every inch of his body, especially his feet – you know how erogenous they are!”
“What!?” I hadn’t touched Rashad’s feet since 2003 and sure as hell didn’t know they were erogenous. Guess I missed the erotic class too. Then she said, “I wash his ears, his neck and, of course, his, ahh, power source – which is saluting me in anticipation of what’s about to happen! “Now, when you’re done, you gotta kiss the top of head,” Camille said with a wink.
“Of course!” I said looking Camille straight in the eye, completely puzzled as to which head she meant.
“Ok, so now it’s time to get him out of the tub – and dry him off with those big fluffy bath towels – the ones you usually save for company,” she said as if reading my mind, ‘‘cuz tonight he ain’t gonna need no bathrobe.’
“He doesn’t?” I asked, genuinely surprised. Wait. He was just supposed to be naked, standing there swinging in the wind, my eyes asked?
She shook her head like a teacher scolding a student. “Yesss…you want him naked, standing right next to the bed.”Then Camille whispered real low, “that’s when you slowly drop. to. your. knees.”What the hell?!? I know Camille wasn’t talking about performing oral sex! She was going to teach fellatio 101 right here in the DMV? My eyes widen. At that moment, I would have traded my DMV ticket to the last person in line, in order to hear the rest of Camille’s story. Her eyes sparkled, her lips plush as she went on in a breathy voice. “Now what you do next is the key to the whole, “Special Needs Night.” Of course, I nodded, scooting my chair closer to hers.
She told me, “Look, don’t go grabbing his dick all willy-nilly. You gotta start slow. Let him know you don’t want to be anywhere else but right there between his legs.”

There was never a moment in time that I wasn’t good at multiple-tasking – running down lists of things to do, taking care of a myriad of details, knowing exactly where everyone one of us was supposed to be. I could think of hundred places I would need to be. But now this beautiful woman was telling me how to be a better wife by letting Rashad know I didn’t want to be anywhere else in the world but between his legs? Hell, most times I didn’t want Rashad between my legs. This was a revelation.

“Now, take his dick and gently lay it against your face – just softly rubbing it. Close your eyes, feel the warm and the power against your cheek. Take your time, inhale his male scent,”Camille stated matter-of-factly. “By now he should be rock hard and that’s when you begin to kiss the head while your fingers gently massaged his jewels. I usually start slow, running my tongue from the base to the tip in a swirling motion – over and over and over again. I sometimes run the head along the roof of my mouth, before at last I take all of him into my mouth. That move just about does him in too! You should suck gently at first – let it pop out with one of those ‘slurpy’ sounds – ‘cuz men like those little noises. Now suck again, harder and then harder still – each time drawing more of him into your mouth.”

I willed myself to close my mouth; my face slowly complied. This naturally attractive woman with the silky skin spoke of giving a blow job like she was giving instructions on how to lick an ice cream cone.
“By now he’s usually moaning loudly which lets me know he’s enjoying my special attention. So what do I do? I keep stroking his base with my hand while swirling up and down my tongue around the length of him.”“Finally, I take him so deep in my throat I’m gagging.” Camille scanned my bewildered face before she continued. “Look, if you ain’t gagging and your eyes ain’t watering, you ain’t doing it right.”

Well, that explained it! No wonder Rashad never pressured me about giving him head; not once have my eyes ever watered. Of course, every now and then, he would gently push my head down towards his crotch. But I always managed to skip that part of foreplay – or I would give a few cursory licks before raising my head. I wanted to stop to ask Camille how you do that without barfing in your mouth, but I didn’t want to interrupt her. As it was, I was already jealous of this anonymous woman’s sex life…wishing I had the nerve to take notes!

“At this point, he’s groaning and moaning and holding my head with both hands. But I stay focused. The secret is to mix it up. First, I let my tongue stroke that vein running along the underside, stopping to give the head plenty of attention. And just when I think he’s settled into my rhythm, I shift my concentration to his balls.” “I just keep rotating back and forth – sucking hard, opening my mouth wide to go deep, then back to licking from balls to tip!” “Yeah, pretty soon he’s pumping into my mouth with serious force and calling my name! And just when he’s on the verge of filling my mouth with his hot cum, I stop. That always makes him all but rip my shorts off, push me on my back and enter me hard!” Camille giggled, “We end up on the floor or sometimes cross-ways on the bed – screwing each other’s brains out.” “I don’t know why but giving him real good head is like foreplay. I can’t help but get dripping wet when I think about pleasuring him – it turns me on knowing I’m in control. But once his thick ass dick is inside of me, well, I open my legs wide and follow the rhythm of his body.”
She let out a big sigh; all that was missing was a high-five to each other! I couldn’t help but reflect on the power in pleasuring a man, controlling the sexual act, on my own terms – where the hell had I been?
“Girl, I guaranteed you, after that, all the stress of the day leaves his body and he ain’t good for nothing but some good food, the remote control, and another shot of Hennessy.”

“Good food?” I screamed in Camille’s ear – not realizing how close I was to her.
She leaned away from me, shocked! “Girl, don’t tell me you don’t cook!?!” “You are not the only thing he should be eating on “Special Needs Night.”Camille goes on with a little pride in her voice, “Well, on those special nights I usually make something ‘special’ – you know, like smothered pork chops, rice & gravy and cabbage with corn bread. I’m not a gourmet cook, but I have a couple of soul food dishes I do pretty well.”
I nodded. Yes, of course, she would, Miss ‘I’m-a-perfect-wife-who-gives-head-and-cooks’. But no doubt after the professional blow job she just gave her husband, he wouldn’t care if she made a bowl of Corn Flakes. When was the last time I threw down in the kitchen like that? A month? Three months? No! I made a really tasty, and very healthy I might add, chicken salad just three nights ago! Rashad said he like it! Oh, what the hell! Ok. Ms. Camille, how many other wifely duties are you going to show me where I’m lacking?

Just then a bored looking clerk called Camille’s number in a dry voice. She quickly gathered her coat preparing to leave our little make shift lecture hall. I turned to her, stifling the urge to hug her, wishing we could talk more.
Finally, I said with sincerity, “WOW! Camille, I can’t tell you how much I’ve enjoyed our little, uhm, conversation. Who knew “Special Needs Night” was so…special, I smiled at her.” “I can tell you this, I learned a helluva lot from you today. Damn! Your husband is a very lucky man. ”
With a slightly quizzical smile and tilt of her head Camille replied, “Oh no, sweetie, I’m not married. I’m his other woman,” then strutted off to the counter, without a backward glance.

I couldn’t have been more stunned if she had slapped me. Camille never looked back at me to see my shock or disbelief; not caring if she had my approval or my sympathy. I sat there dumbfounded for several minutes while I replayed our conversation in my head. Did all the side-pieces know something about pleasure that wives didn’t? Only two numbers away and I’d be paroled from here myself. But I decided I would skip the cleaners on the way home. No, I vowed to find a store that sells booty shorts instead, declaring tonight, Rashad’s “Special Needs Night.”

About Ms. Shula Divine
Ms. Shula, a self-proclaimed erotica connoisseur, has a 20-year love and fascination for all things erotic. She holds an impressive private collection of erotic sculptures and art work. Ms. Shula wrote scripts for a live erotic cabaret show in Las Vegas. Currently, she writes the "Erotic Blogspot" for ‘Oh Yea Right There – The Spot’ and is finishing her book of erotic short stories, "Sweet Potato Pie," due out early 2016. Ms. Shula is a student of Kabbalah and Bikram Yoga and makes her home in Las Vegas with her dog, Bobby Brown and 200+ pairs of designer shoes.

For more info, visit Ms. Shula via the information below:
Shula Divine
Main Website: OYRT The Spot
Twitter: @ohyearightthere