The Perfect Date

One-shot smut. It made Sezje squirm, which is apparently a good thing.

Rating: X. Adult. Not safe for work.

BONUS: Grab The Perfect Date eBook.

* * * * *

Ashley Davies tried to suppress a yawn as Douglas Jackson, the senior partner at the table, powered through into what felt like the fiftieth minute of his opening remarks. In reality, he had probably only been talking for three or four minutes, but the glassy eyes of most of those present hinted that, already, he had gone on too long; sadly, he showed no signs of stopping.

The meeting that she was in at that moment – a room full of people in suits debating the finer points of entertainment law to the point of tedium – was Ashley’s idea of hell on earth. There was only one other person there who was not from the highly prestigious law firm of Stein, Maley and Jansen and that was her own lawyer, Chuck, who generally preferred to be called Charles in such formal situations. SMJ’s niche was representing the real money in the business: the production houses, investors and producers who actually put up the money for a lot of these ventures. With only a couple of notable exceptions, few outside of ‘the business of show’ would have heard of the firm’s many clients; everyone who had watched an American TV show or movie made in the last twenty years had definitely seen their clients’ output, however.

This was an unlikely scenario, to say the least. Ashley was a writer and writers were rarely, if ever, treated to meetings with this much high-priced legal talent, mainly because writers wielded very little power in the grand scheme of things. A grip or a stunt co-ordinator could bring a set to a complete halt with just one well-timed word, while all a writer ever did was hand over their screenplay and helplessly watch it mutate beyond all recognition. There was even an old Hollywood joke about a dumb blonde actress being so stupid that she slept with the writer to get ahead.

But Ashley Davies was not an ordinary screenwriter: she was, in her own terminology, a polisher. It was never her screenplays which were eviscerated. She was the one who rewrote other people’s work. It had been one of those careers that was entirely under the radar, until Carrie Fisher had admitted in an interview that she could get paid up a few hundred thousand for a few weeks’ uncredited work on someone else’s script. It was, as the song said, nice work if you could get it, and Ashley was one of the most in-demand polishers. Stein, Maley and Jansen represented a production company who wished to secure Ashley’s highly-paid services for three pictures which would be shooting almost simultaneously. Essentially, they wanted her to be their on-call fixer for the next four months, which would mean that she would not be able to work for anyone else during that time. Ashley valued her freedom too much to be bought cheaply, which was, in part, why she was stuck in one of SMJ’s many meeting rooms listening to the world’s least interesting lawyer.

In a sea of demure navy and conservative dark greys, there was one person in the room who stood out. Down at the other end of the table, clearly struggling to hide the fact that she was also as bored as Ashley felt, was the most beautiful woman that Ashley had ever seen, a young, blonde associate called Spencer Carlin.

Narrowing her focus to just the blonde, Ashley leaned perilously far back in her chair and landed back down somewhat heavily as she tried to correct herself. The brunette looked around, but everyone was either intent on whatever was being discussed or covertly fiddling with their BlackBerries. Well, everyone except Spencer Carlin, whom Ashley caught trying to stifle a grin. She gave a cheeky wink in reply, which caused the blonde’s cheeks to redden.

This was not the first time that she had met young Miss Carlin; that occasion had been several months previously, when the blonde associate had shown up at Ashley’s beach-front home with a previous contract to be signed. Ashley recalled that she had flirted outrageously with the other woman – if memory served, she had opened the door and announced, “Well, aren’t you just gorgeous?” – but Spencer had merely ignored her more colourful remarks and had kept their discussion on an entirely courteous and professional footing. Not that she was one to boast about such matters, but the brunette wasn’t used to her advances being rebuffed so completely. Even the straight girls usually responded. In fact, Ashley particularly enjoyed the challenge of the straight girls who didn’t really understand what fire they were playing with. She allowed herself a small private smile at the memory of a few of her more interesting encounters.

Bringing her attention back to the discussion in the room, Ashley saw that, once again, she was being not-so-covertly watched by the blonde. This time, she raised a questioning eyebrow in response, but Spencer merely looked down at her yellow legal pad and made some notes. The fact that Ashley had now caught Spencer looking at her on several occasions in a relatively short period of time convinced her that her initial snap assumptions about the blonde lawyer had been correct: Spencer Carlin either played for the girls’ team, or was at least contemplating trying out for a position. And Ashley had a good idea about exactly what sort of positions she’d like to see Little Miss Lawyer in.

The truth was that, prior to meeting Spencer Carlin, Ashley had always trusted Chuckie to represent her interests and had never attended any business meetings. Since that first encounter, however, she had attended every last meeting on even the smallest detail. SMJ represented the majority of the people that Ashley ended up working for, so she had found herself around the blonde on about a dozen occasions. Okay, so she had engineered most of those occasions by persuading Chuck to arrange follow-up meetings just so she could be in the same room as Spencer and by casually bumping into the blonde – entirely by chance, of course – in the lobby of the legal offices. At every opportunity, she had tried to get them on a friendly footing. She had, at least, succeeded in that. They were now what could best be described as cordial acquaintances.

It had taken a Herculean effort on Ashley’s part not to shamelessly flirt with the blonde, but she had wanted to establish herself in Spencer’s estimation as being about more than sex. For reasons that she barely understood, she didn’t want just a quick roll in the hay with the blonde.

For a former major-league player like Ashley Davies, though, having an unrequited crush was almost a direct affront to her ego.

She had decided that it was time to stop playing fair.

Ashley shrugged off her own expensive leather jacket and made a show of fanning her face with her hand. Despite the fact that the building’s aircon kept the temperature at a level that was, at best, a few degrees warmer than a crisp winter’s morning, she casually unbuttoned another button on her favourite white shirt and leaned forward across the table towards the carafe of water just beyond her reach. She didn’t have to look up to know that she had the full attention of her intended audience. She could feel Spencer Carlin’s gaze like a caress. Pouring herself a glass of water, she tilted her head back and took a long, slow drink. Figuring that she might as well push her performance to its limit, she carefully placed her glass back on the table and stared directly at the blonde as she licked her lips.

It did not escape Ashley’s notice that, as Spencer once more ducked her head and furiously scribbled something on her legal pad, the blonde was chewing on her lower lip. Ashley wondered what it would feel like to be the one whose teeth felt its softness. Would Spencer be an aggressive kisser? Or would she appreciate a partner who took the lead and insistently pushed her down onto the huge boardroom table they were on?

Ashley considered the almost endless possibilities of just what she would like to do to the blonde, unconsciously crossing her own legs as she felt a familiar warmth begin to spread through her lower body. She was so caught up in her imagination that she almost didn’t notice Chuckie and the others rising from their seats. Quickly regaining her composure, she also stood and cleared her throat.

“Mr Jackson,” she began, “I wonder if I could impose upon your firm for a small favour.”

The older man seemed taken aback by Ashley’s first words since they had assembled, but he soon replaced his surprise with a smooth, accommodating smile.

“How may we be of assistance, Miss Davies?”

Ashley flashed a look in Spencer’s direction before she answered, “I’d like to borrow this room and, if possible, Miss Carlin here for just a little while longer.” She pulled her trusty Moleskin notebook from her jacket pocket and lifted in the air as she explained, “I have some research I need to do for another project of Saul’s and interviewing Miss Carlin would be of tremendous help to me.”

She dropped Saul Klein’s name because she knew that his company was one of SMJ’s biggest accounts and she hoped that Jackson would be more willing to help her if he thought there was something in it for one of his clients. “That is, of course, if Miss Carlin doesn’t mind,” she added swiftly.

Without even looking in his associate’s direction, the older man extended his arm and gave Ashley a surprisingly weak handshake. “I’m sure we can spare Spencer for a while. Anything to help Mr Klein. And, of course, you, Miss Davies.”

“Of course,” Ashley agreed, knowing that her needs had played no part in his swift decision.

Ashley studiously avoided meeting the blonde’s eyes as she shook hands with the other lawyers and made her goodbyes to Chuck. Good friend that he was, he never even mentioned that he knew fine well that she had no projects in development with Saul. He merely kissed her cheek and commented pointedly, “We’ll talk more later.”

The writer knew that his real meaning was that he would expect a full explanation of her behaviour at some point. He needn’t have worried: Ashley had no-one else she could tell, without letting them know that she’d lost her shit over a lawyer.

Sitting down, Ashley finally looked up at Spencer, who was leaning against the far wall, her arms folded over her chest, her face unreadable.

“Um, why don’t you sit down?” the brunette began, opening her notebook and clicking her pen nervously.

Spencer sat in her previous seat, at the far end of the table. Sighing, Ashley picked up her things and moved to the chair facing the blonde. At this distance, she caught the various scents of Spencer’s light perfume, her shampoo and something else, possibly a body cream. It took an effort not to shut her eyes and inhale deeply to fix the exact smell of Spencer in her mind.

“Um, here’s the thing. What I do is about the details. I mean, most screenplays have the plot down fine, but it’s the little things that stop them from ringing true. The dialogue, mostly, but sometimes the setting, the situations, the small stage directions, they don’t fit the characters. My job -”

“I’m in entertainment law, Ashley. I understand what script doctors do,” Spencer interrupted.


“Excuse me?”

Ashley had an entirely irrational hatred of that term for her profession. It made her think of evil witch doctors in old jungle movies. “The script’s not sick, Spence. I just polish them.”

The blonde made a dismissive hand gesture. “Well, let’s just say that I know what your business is, Ashley.” There was something almost mischievous in Spencer’s tone that implied a level of subtext to her remark, and Ashley loved hearing the diminutive form of her name. She wondered if Spencer would be the type to call it out in more intimate moments.

“Anyway, I have a scene I need to work on and I don’t know where to begin.”

“I still don’t know how you think I can help.”

As she often did when backed into a difficult corner, Ashley decided to go with bravado.

“What’s your perfect date?”

The blonde’s eyes widened and she let her folded arms fall to the table. “What’s my -”

“Perfect date,” Ashley finished, encouragingly, holding her pen poised at the top of her page.

“This is what you need my help for? To describe how dating works?”

“No, I understand how dating works, Spence, but I mean your perfect date. You’re a young, professional, modern woman. The scene I’ve got to work with would be fine if it was still 1954 and women were pliant sex objects who swooned at the very thought of their date buying them wine with a real cork in a restaurant that didn’t have plastic cutlery.” She warmed to her subject, amazed at how easily the details of her non-existent project were forming in her mind. “I mean, what I’m starting with would be great if we were still making Rock Hudson-Doris Day pictures, but I don’t think either of them are available these days.” She smiled at her own weak joke, but the blonde did not return the gesture. “I need to know what you, a woman of your age and status, that is, would consider to be the perfect date.”

“And you don’t know any other women our age that you could have asked? I find that hard to believe.”

“Surprisingly, I know very few women with real jobs.”

“Never even dated any?” Spencer asked, raising an eyebrow sardonically.

Ashley grinned, admiring the blonde’s direct comeback. “No, in my line of business, most of the women I meet are actresses and they don’t eat anything more substantial than the olive in their ten-dollar drinks.” She noted, with some relief, that the start of a smile was tugging at the corner of the lawyer’s mouth. “I need to know what the ideal date would be for a woman with an IQ in triple digits. I mean, if a -” she paused, deciding not to push it too far. “If someone asked you out, would you expect flowers?”

“Isn’t a corsage a little formal?” Spencer’s smile had relaxed into a small, but encouraging grin now.

“I was thinking more like long-stemmed roses.”

“Clichéd, don’t you think?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Ashley admitted. “I’ve never bought a girl flowers before. Besides, this is about your perfect date. My female lead is not an impoverished writer.”

Spencer snorted with derision as she got up from the table and moved to a small side table which held a coffee pot and some elegant china cups. “I’m working on your contract. I know you’re far from impoverished. Coffee?” she asked, as she poured herself a cup.

“Mmm, cream, no sugar, thanks.”

Spencer rejoined her at the table and passed Ashley her coffee. “So, what’s my motivation in your scene?”

Ashley chuckled at the use of the well-worn actor’s refrain. “Well, you’re the female lead and you’ve been invited to our hero’s house under false pretences, but our hero turns out to have arranged the perfect date. We’re talking a montage, some dialogue, not too much. I need to make it believable that they could fall in love in just that one day. I’m thinking horseriding on the beach as the sun sets with James Ingram or Peabo Bryson on the soundtrack isn’t going to cut it.”

Spencer paused for a moment, sipping her coffee thoughtfully, before she commented, “Well, actually, flowers probably would be a good start. Despite the cliché, I would still be thrilled.”

Ashley studiously wrote ‘Flowers, check’ in her notebook. “And would you rather go out for a meal or have one cooked for you?”

“Well, I’ve always found someone going to the effort of the cooking to be more impressive than paying for a small plateful of beautifully arranged but overpriced food.”

Ashley added ‘Home-cooked meal, check’ to the open page.

Spencer watched this and noted, “You know, I think your main problem is not this sort of detail. It’s your starting premise.”


The blonde nodded. “You say that the whole idea is that your main character is expecting your female lead to fall in love with them because they arrange a perfect date, but that seems cold and calculating. I think I would feel manipulated if I turned up at someone’s house and they had somehow arranged all of my ideal elements for a perfect date.”

Ashley noticed instantly that Spencer had followed her lead by using non-gender-specific terms to describe the fictional ‘hero’ who wished to romance the female lead. She watched as the blonde took another sip of coffee and tried not to let her gaze wander down Spencer’s neck to the cleavage only hinted at by her elegantly tailored silk blouse.

“Mmm. Yes, I think the whole scenario is, as you suggested, directly out of a Rock Hudson-Doris Day movie. Real people don’t act like that. Well, not in the twenty-first century. You can’t make someone fall in love with you just by appealling to their fantasies. You either love someone or you don’t. You’re either attracted to them or you’re not. You don’t just have an epiphany one day and go, ‘That’s the one for me!’ because someone makes you your favourite meal or buys you your favourite flowers. Feelings develop. Over time. And based on the person, not on the quality of the dates.”

“So you don’t believe in love at first sight?” the brunette asked.

“My father claims that it happened to him with my mother, so I suppose I do in a way.” Spencer’s tone and expression seemed to indicate that she believed quite the opposite, however.

“You don’t think it could happen to you?”

Spencer shrugged. “It’s not something I’ve ever really considered. You?”

Ashley smiled softly. “I don’t know. I didn’t used to really believe in love at all, but I certainly think you can meet someone and instantly know that you want to know them better. If that turns into love, does that mean it was love at first sight? Fate? Destiny?”

Her eyes searched Spencer’s for understanding, or at least confirmation that she wasn’t babbling incoherently, but she honestly didn’t know herself what she meant.

“So, where does this leave our Rock and Doris?” Spencer asked with a smile, deftly lightening the mood and effectively changing the subject.

“I’m not sure,” Ashley replied, just glad that her little speech didn’t seem to have put the blonde off continuing their little chat. “I see your point that any kind of set-up wouldn’t work, so what would Rock have to do to win you over?”

Spencer smiled over the rim of her cup. “You mean Doris.”

Ashley watched as the blonde drank, thinking again how soft her lips looked and imagining how they’d feel against her own skin. Flashing the young lawyer a grin, she retorted, “Ah, but we have already established that, for the purposes of this discussion, you are my Doris. It’s your perspective that I’m after.”

“Well, in that case, I think Rock should just be himself. No pretexts, no facade.”

Ashley put her pen down, taking what she hoped was Spencer’s advice and giving up all pretence that they were really discussing a movie. “But how can Rock be sure that Doris is even interested? We can’t have the poor fool risking his heart, only to be cruelly rejected again.”

“Again?” the blonde echoed. “When was he rejected previously?”

Drawing random patterns on the tabletop with her finger, the writer replied, “Act One, the first meeting.”

Ashley watched as Spencer tilted her head, clearly thinking back. As realisation dawned, a smile spread across her face. “Well, where do we think Rock went wrong on that occasion?”

“Too aggressive, possibly.”

The blonde nodded. “I can see that. Of course, maybe Doris just didn’t take him seriously. Maybe she felt that it was something that guys like Rock did, hitting on every pretty girl who crossed their path without much investment in the outcome, merely hoping to get lucky once in a while.”

Coyly fiddling with her necklace and staring down at her notebook, Ashley commented, “Oh, but Doris isn’t just some pretty girl. She’s beautiful, breath-taking. She’s quite possibly the most exquisite woman that Rock has ever seen. I think that he was so taken aback by her that he didn’t know how to react, except inappropriately.”

When Spencer didn’t respond immediately, the brunette finally looked up from the fixed point on her notebook that she had been studying. The other woman’s face was flushed and she was staring incredulously.

“Maybe if Rock had said something like that at the time,” Spencer replied softly, “we wouldn’t be here just now, trying to figure out how to get them on track in Act 3.”

A few moments’ silence fell between them before Ashley shook her head slowly. “Ah, but the movies teach us that direct honesty rarely works. It’s like that bit in Tootsie where Jessica Lange tells Dorothy, Dustin Hoffman’s character when he’s dressed as a woman, that she wishes that men would just be honest with her and tell her that they find her incredibly attractive and want to sleep with her. So, Dustin, dressed as a man, goes up to Jessica Lange, who, of course, doesn’t recognise him, and he tells her that he finds her incredibly attractive and would really like to sleep with her. And she slaps him. Hard.”

Spencer looked at her incredulously. “And, yet, knowing this, your original script,” the emphasis that Spencer placed on the word indicated that she knew full well what Ashley’s original intention had been, “called for Rock to do almost exactly the same thing, by finding out what Doris’s perfect date was and then serving that up to her. Surely your example illustrates my point that any kind of engineered set-up would be doomed to failure?”

“Are you saying that Doris wouldn’t have been impressed at all by the lengths that Rock was willing to go to just to win her over?”

Spencer reached out across the table and placed her hand over Ashley’s. It felt incredible. It felt more intimate than any touch Ashley had ever previously experienced.

“I’m saying that I think Doris would be more impressed by a single honest, fumbling, heart-felt moment than a whole month of manufactured perfection.”


Sadly, Spencer removed her hand again, leaving the brunette feeling bereft.

“Is there any good reason,” she asked, “why Rock doesn’t just ask Doris out directly?”

Ashley thought about that one. Her little ruse had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now she was wondering if perhaps the blonde had been feeding her signals all this time and she had been so caught up in her own confusion at having this crush, or whatever it was, that she hadn’t even considered the most obvious and direct course of action?

“We’ve covered that already,” she finally replied. “Fear of further rejection.”

Spencer laughed, a rich, full sound that sent strange tingles up and down Ashley’s spine. “Really? You expect me to believe that Rock Hudson – THE Rock Hudson – is shy and retiring? I think not.”

“Never judge a book by its cover.”

Spencer nodded sagely. “No, I guess maybe we shouldn’t.” She looked down at her watch and seemed disappointed. “Look, I have another appointment with a client and I really should prep for it. Do you have everything you need, or is there anything else I can help you with?”

It was an opening. Ashley knew it was an opening. This was her opportunity to just be brave, to ask Spencer out directly, but she found herself strangely tongue-tied. She felt that the advantage had been wrested from her and was now squarely in Spencer’s court. And she really didn’t know what to do. Spencer was still staring at her expectantly, but she could not say what she was thinking.

“No?” the blonde asked, shrugging and rising from the table. “Oh, well then, I’m sure we’ll see each other for the contract signing. I assume you’ll be accompanying Charles?” Ashley just nodded, mutely. “Shall I see you out or are you okay by yourself?”

“I’ll be, uh, fine,” the brunette answered, wishing that her feeble mind could come up with something more profound to say, something that would sweep the blonde off her feet. All her brain was offering was ‘God, you’re gorgeous’ which was the sort of unhelpful thought she could have done without.

“So, until next week, then,” Spencer said, as she watched Ashley pack her things up and join her at the doorway to the meeting room. She extended her hand to shake Ashley’s. Her handshake was not weak. It was, as Goldilocks might have said, just right. And it wasn’t Ashley’s imagination that it lasted longer than necessary.

As she watched the blonde walk away down the corridor, Ashley admired the rear view. Spencer definitely had a body that could stop traffic. She shut her eyes in shame. She had just let that walk away from her one more time. Her game was pitiful.

She kicked herself for her own stupidity the whole way down in the elevator and out into the street. She berated herself mentally the whole ride home in the cab. She actually called herself any number of uncomplimentary names out loud in her office as she sat in front of her computer screen, unable to do any work. It was probably just as well that her neighbours were some distance down the beach from her. They might reasonably have thought her mad, especially when she gave up trying to work and sat on the floor, like Steve McQueen in The Great Escape, tossing a baseball repeatedly against the wall, as day became evening and evening gave way to night. It made a very loud, cathartic noise, although it was doing the paint job no good at all.

She didn’t even hear the doorbell at first, until she realised that there was a persistent ringing noise that, quite possibly, was not just in her head. Padding to the door, baseball in hand, she looked through the spyhole to see the unmistakeable traffic-stopping rear view of Spencer Carlin, out of her normal suit and casually dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved tee. The jeans did a lot for her ass, which Ashley hadn’t really thought needed any help in the first place.

Opening the door, she was about to speak, but was cut off by Spencer pushing past her and walking into the condo’s main living area, talking as she went.

“So, I know it’s late and everything, but I was at home and I was thinking about your scene and it suddenly occurred to me that it’s 2009 and maybe, in these more enlightened times, Doris would make the first move. And I just wanted to get your thoughts on that.” Spencer turned and stared at the baseball the brunette was holding. “Side job pitching for the Angels?”

Ashley looked down at her hand. “It’s, uh, a Steve McQueen thing.”

Spencer just nodded, as if that made perfect sense. “Excellent. So, what do you think about my idea?”

The writer was once agin dumbfounded. Here was Spencer Carlin, the main star of both her wet dreams and her most recent romantic failure, if indecision could be called a failure, standing in her living room looking damn fine, better than damn fine, even. She let her eyes drift over Spencer’s legs before she looked back up, trying to think what the question had been.

“Doris making the first move?” Spencer prompted. “Would that work?”

The blonde took a couple of steps towards her and eased the baseball out of Ashley’s hand, reaching to the side of both of them to lay it down on a nearby coffee table. Ashley couldn’t shake the feeling that this was a dream, that she was seeing this happen to herself in the third person.

“What if she did this?” Spencer asked softly, stepping right into Ashley’s personal space and linking her hands behind the brunette’s head.

Despite her racing heart and the fact that she felt as if there was a two-ton weight on her chest, stealing her breath, Ashley managed to squeak out, “That might work.”

She was aware that her own hands now rested on the blonde’s hips but, again, she felt like it was an act she was observing, rather than committing. She was brought back to reality, though, when she felt Spencer’s lips brush her own. Her eyes fluttered shut as she leaned into the kiss, marvelling that Spencer’s lips felt even softer than in her many imaginings. Before she could deepen the kiss, the blonde pulled back.

“What about that? Do you think that Rock would feel that Doris had pushed things too far?” Spencer asked, her gaze fixed on the brunette’s lips.

Ashley shook her head, mutely, pulling the blonde back towards her again and kissing her hard with all the passion that she could muster. The kiss escalated quickly. Before she knew it, Ashley was sliding her hands inside the back of Spencer’s shirt, splaying her hands on the soft skin of her lower back. They were straining against each other as she felt Spencer slide her tongue past her lips.

Her head was swimming and her knees were getting weaker. Ashley suspected that, if they weren’t holding each other so tight, she might slide to the floor in a puddle of lust. She had never wanted anyone else this much, so quickly. Dragging her mouth from Spencer’s, she buried her face in the blonde’s neck, nipping and sucking on the sensitive skin along the jugular. Spencer’s loud moan spurred her on and she slid her hands from Spencer’s back to stroke the blonde’s sides.

As she nibbled the blonde’s neck, she moved her left hand to cup one of Spencer’s breasts full in her hand. Her own moan of pleasure was matched by the blonde muttering sharply, “Oh, Jesus.”

Stilling her hand, she pulled back and searched Spencer’s face. “Too far?”

Spencer shook her head, cupping the back of Ashley’s neck and pulling her back in for another searing kiss. “More,” she murmured.

Ashley smiled against the blonde’s mouth and used her thumb to stroke Spencer’s nipple through the lace of her bra. This time, it was Ashley who took the Lord’s name in vain. “Jesus, Spence, you feel incredible,” she muttered between kisses.

They continued making out like teenagers in the middle of the living room, hands roaming and exploring over layers of clothes while they kissed, seemingly without end, until finally Spencer pulled back again and grasped Ashley’s face in her hands.

“Your bedroom, where -”

“Through there,” Ashley replied hoarsely, indicating over her shoulder with a nod of her head, leaning back in for more of those tempting kisses.

“Can we -”

Ashley nodded and pulled them both in the general direction of the condo’s master bedroom. It was a longer and more complicated journey than it needed to be, as they had to stop on several occasions for a kiss here, to remove an item of clothing there. By the time they reached the edge of the bed, they were both topless and breathing heavily.

Spencer suddenly became somewhat bashful, or, at least, as bashful as a half-naked person in someone else’s bedroom could look. “I don’t usually do this sort -” she began.

The brunette shook her head and hushed the other woman by leaning back in, kissing the blonde and revelling in the feel of the naked skin against her own. Tenderly, more tenderly than she had with any lover in her past, Ashley eased Spencer down into a sitting position at the edge of the bed. Looking down at the passion-flushed blonde, she drew a finger across Spencer’s cheek and smiled. “I meant what I said earlier, you know. You really are the most exquisite woman I think I’ve ever seen.”

Spencer nodded and moved her hands to the waistband of Ashley’s jeans, popping the stud and easing the zip down. “Take them off,” she ordered softly.

Ashley smiled unsteadily and did as she was asked, quickly removing her jeans and her underwear. Being watched by a half-naked Spencer Carlin was one of the most erotic things she’d ever experienced.

“Jesus, Ash, you’re so beautiful,” Spencer whispered, reaching out and hooking her hand around the brunette’s hip, drawing her deliberately towards the bed. When Ashley was only inches away, she watched as Spencer closed her eyes and leaned up to capture her nipple in her mouth, grasping Ashley’s hips more firmly to hold the moaning brunette in place as she teased her with her lips and tongue. When she grasped the nipple between her teeth and licked its sensitive tip with the flat of her tongue, Ashley moaned and wondered how she could keep standing much longer.

She was not fully aware of how Spencer managed to divest herself of her remaining clothes; all she knew was that they were soon rolling around her king-size bed, hands and mouths and lips and teeth all working together to explore the other. Every time that she thought she had control of the situation, the blonde would do something that sent her head spinning and allowed the initiative to flow. Ashley usually like to set both the tone and the tempo of her love-making, and this was entirely alien to her, alien but welcome and incredible and several kinds of perfect.

Spencer rolled them over once more until she was straddling Ashley’s thigh. The brunette could feel how hot and wet her lover was and had to suppress the urge to do a victory lap around the bed because of how inordinately pleased she was with herself for causing such a reaction. Her self-satisfaction was almost instantly derailed when she felt Spencer’s mouth close over her nipple, as the blonde’s fingers parted her gently.

Ashley’s hips rose by instinct, desperate for fuller contact, but the blonde’s touch was feather-light. When the pad of Spencer’s thumb brushed slowly over Ashley’s aching clit, she moaned loudly and grasped the sheets.

“God, I’ve wanted this for so long,” Spencer murmured against her breast, as she moved her fingers to tease at Ashley’s hot, wet opening. The blonde easily slid two fingers inside her and Ashley’s body went entirely taut, as she moved her hands from grasping at the sheets to cradling the back of Spencer’s head.

“Oh, fuck, Spence. Oh, sweet Jesus.”

Spencer didn’t do anything at first, just kept her hand entirely still as she continued to tease Ashley’s hard nipple with her teeth and her tongue. The brunette kept trying to thrust her hips, but Spencer effectively used the heel of her hand to prevent any such motion. Then, slowly, Ashley felt the fingers inside her move with the tiniest of fluttering motions. It was hardly a motion at all, but it was driving her insane. When Spencer’s thumb then began to exert more pressure against her throbbing clit, Ashley could tell that she would be unable to last much longer. She wanted this so badly; she wanted Spencer so badly.

As her hips began their own slow undulation to match the sensuous movements of Spencer’s fingers, she thrust her own thigh higher, wanting to feel Spencer’s wetness. Moving her hands from the back of Spencer’s head to her back, she tried to force the blonde into a faster pace, but she would not be hurried. In fact, she slowly traced a pattern to Ashley’s other breast with her lips and tongue, almost stilling the movements of her hand altogether.

“Spence!” Ashley pleaded. “I need -”

Flicking her tongue across Ashley’s other nipple before blowing softly on it, Spencer asked, “This?” The fingers inside Ashley resumed their motion, this time also curling upward and beginning a slow thrust. “Or, this?” She began circling Ashley’s clit with her thumb.

Ashley couldn’t express what she needed. She needed everything, all at once. She hoped that her guttural moan and the fact that her hips were straining against Spencer’s hand would answer for her. Perhaps they did, because the blonde quickened the tempo of her ministrations and eased herself up Ashley’s body to capture her lips in a hard, open-mouthed kiss.

She was pretty certain that she was leaving nailmarks in Spencer’s back as she clung on, thrusting against the hand that was bringing her so much pleasure, as Spencer buried her face in Ashley’s neck, licking and sucking the soft skin. When the blonde insinuated a third finger inside her, Ashley’s eyes rolled back as she released a string of incoherent epithets and moans. Spencer started thrusting more fully, pulling her fingers back until they were almost withdrawn, before pushing back deep within her. As the blonde bit down on Ashley’s shoulder, she used her thigh to force the pressure of her hand and thumb against the brunette. Ashley could feel herself tightening around Spencer’s fingers, her hips moving frantically to meet the blonde’s pace.

Then, suddenly, the orgasm ripped through her, spasming against the delicate fingers and leaving her incoherent and shaking. As she rode the aftershocks, she held Spencer tight against her, enjoying the feeling of her slight weight pressing down on her.

Opening her eyes, she whispered, “That was… You were… Fuck.” Not the most eloquent declaration she’d ever made, but she was incapable of putting it all into words.

Spencer didn’t seem to mind, however, as she felt her chuckle against her skin. Easing her fingers out gently, Spencer moved her hands to Ashley’s hips, turning her own head to nuzzle her nose against the downy skin of Ashley’s cheek.

The brunette knew that Spencer had been close to release herself. She had felt Spencer’s thrusts against her and she could still feel the incredible wetness against her thigh. She turned her own head to meet Spencer’s, instigating a kiss that started slowly, but grew heated. Rolling them to one side, but keeping her thigh insinuated between the blonde’s legs, Ashley moved her hands to Spencer’s hips and encouraged her to move against her.

Ashley was torn by the desire to make Spencer wait, as she herself had been teased, and to have her all at once. Moving her hands to the blonde’s breasts, she held the soft flesh, using her palms to put only the slightest of pressure on Spencer’s hard nipples. She moaned – or maybe it was Spencer – and rolled them further around, until she was half-sprawled over the blonde.

She moved one hand to the juncture of Spencer’s thighs, where she found the blonde hot and ready. Parting the blonde’s legs more fully with her knee and thigh, she settled in between them and slowly began kissing her way across Spencer’s chest, over her abdomen, and towards her ultimate goal. Spencer’s fingers tangled in her hair as the blonde pushed her head down to where she wanted her, and Ashley was only too willing to comply.

Dipping her head, she sucked Spencer’s aching bud into her mouth, swirling her tongue around it in lazy circles. The fingers tangled in her hair dug into her scalp as Spencer’s hips started to move in time with the rhythm that Ashley’s tongue had set. Hooking her arm under Spencer’s thigh, she manoeuvred it over her shoulder, affording her better access. Alternating between licking with the flat of her tongue and sucking gently on Spencer’s clit, Ashley built the tension within the blonde. Moans and muttered snatches of words filled the air.

Feeling Spencer’s body tensing more with each moment, Ashley increased the tempo of her love-making, assaulting the blonde’s clit with rapid flicks and licks with the tip of her tongue until she finally felt Spencer arch right off the bed and cry out, before collapsing again.

Pulling herself up a little, Ashley settled her head on Spencer’s abdomen, her arms loosely around the blonde’s hips. When Spencer’s breathing had returned to somewhere approximating normal, Ashley turned her head slightly, kissing the soft skin and chuckling.

“What?” the blonde asked, leaning down to stroke the brunette’s hair away from her face.

“I was just thinking that the real Doris would probably have expected Rock to pop the question first before rolling in the sheets with him.”

Spencer laughed. “Yeah, probably.”

Ashley could feel Spencer’s fingertips idly tracing patterns across her cheek. It was strangely comforting and erotic at the same time. She was a little scared to ask the question at the back of her mind because she didn’t ever want to lose this feeling of utter contentment, but she also desperately wanted to know the answer.

“So, um, where does this leave our Rock and Doris now?” she asked, quietly.

Spencer propped herself up on one elbow so that she could look into Ashley’s eyes. “Well, I should have thought that a first date is in order, even though we seem to have gone about it a little bit back-to-front.”

Ashley smiled happily at her. “I think a first date can be arranged.” She moved herself up the bed until they were lying facing each other. “Would you like to go on a date with me, Miss Spencer Carlin?” she whispered.

The blonde smiled and nodded. “I would. Very much.”

Grinning, Ashley leaned it for a kiss, but was stopped by a hand cupping her chin. “What?” she asked, a frown creasing her brow.

Spencer traced Ashley’s lower lip with her thumb, her eyes growing heavy with renewed passion. “You’d better bring me flowers,” she whispered back, huskily. “Long-stemmed roses.”

Relieved, Ashley leaned in, worrying Spencer’s lower lip between her teeth. “I promise it’ll be a perfect date.”

The blonde smiled against her mouth. “So, we’re spending it in bed together, then?”

* * * * *


* * * * *

Download The Perfect Date as an eBook for your phone, tablet or desktop.


  1. Tina
    Posted 20 February 2009 at 3.02pm | Permalink

    This is fantastic and soooooo hot, i think i need a cold shower now ;) i really like reading your smut lol

  2. wantob
    Posted 20 February 2009 at 3.03pm | Permalink


  3. peanut
    Posted 20 February 2009 at 3.35pm | Permalink

    Damn, this was … I don’t know …
    This was like the longest foreplay ever, but I
    LOVED the way you build the tenision!
    And it made me wonder how it would be to have someone to pillow talk with me *smiles**

    Aren’t you at work, YBN? :P

  4. Gilmar
    Posted 20 February 2009 at 4.59pm | Permalink


    Hot, cute, just perfect. I would loooove to see that first date =)

  5. iocaste
    Posted 20 February 2009 at 5.12pm | Permalink

    *blink blink*
    that was a very enjoyable read…thank you dev.

  6. peanut
    Posted 20 February 2009 at 5.18pm | Permalink

    Dev! That’s mean! :P
    And shouldn’t it be “wanton”? O_o

  7. dev0347
    Posted 20 February 2009 at 5.22pm | Permalink

    How was I mean? I said, ‘Ich bin nicht würdig’. That’s humble, not mean.

  8. peanut
    Posted 20 February 2009 at 5.25pm | Permalink

    I’m talking about the fact that you changed YBNs nick :P
    Other than that you’re humble *nods*

  9. dev0347
    Posted 20 February 2009 at 5.31pm | Permalink

    I didn’t change YBN’s nick. I don’t think she’d read anything rated XXX at work anyway.

  10. peanut
    Posted 20 February 2009 at 5.36pm | Permalink

    Ok … I’m not going to think about that.
    Cause I’m pretty sure that I read “yeahbutno”.
    And I’d just get a headache of thinking about it.
    Be happy, you confused me :P

  11. sunarU .N enyaP
    Posted 22 February 2009 at 9.22pm | Permalink

    Post a Comment […you know you want to]

    *wants to leave a proper comment, but is incapable of doing anything but drool*

  12. ktina
    Posted 27 February 2009 at 1.53am | Permalink

    This is hot. I love reading anything you write. i have never been let down. keep writing and thanks!

  13. yeahbutno
    Posted 1 March 2009 at 7.49pm | Permalink

    what was all that thing with me? I just read this now…..and how perfect was that?

    Dev, I reckon you are the most Romantic person on this planet, whether you act on it or not !!! as THAT was maybe the most Romantic smut I have read…ever.

    I actually SQUEED when Spence showed up at the door, really!

    And how adorable was Ash, so cool but so dorky and in love!

    Doris Day-Rock Hudson movies are the most perfect snuggle on a couch on a rainy Saturday afternoon movies EVER. Your fic just replicated that. Thank you….except Notorious with Grant and Bergaman, great movie!


    Dev you need to do more one shots and ohhh more updates in general *winks*

  14. tuesboomer
    Posted 7 February 2011 at 5.55pm | Permalink

    Had I been able to keep from nodding off while trying to read this the other night I wouldn’t have been on the treadmill this morning while finishing up this story.

    And I wouldn’t have been wandering from side to side on the extra wide belt like a drunk driver, in danger of tripping up or falling off while reading with intermittently weak knees.

    I am going to make a label for the treadmill.
    It will say:
    ‘The reading of Dev or Clom stories while operating this exercise device is prohibited’.

    I need to get back in shape and get rid of that thing before I kill myself because giving up the reading of the stories is not an option.

    It was great. You weave an excellent story with such economy of words. Unlike my commentary. :)

  15. belenus82
    Posted 28 September 2013 at 7.20am | Permalink

    I just have to say that I disagree with the designation of smut. I have read smut in a variety of other places. And while I may not have read much on this site yet, I can wholeheartedly say that everything that I have read by both clom and dev have been true stories,erotic stories maybe, but stories non the less. Each and every one has had real work put into it so that you get a sense of the characters involved. How to say this, their stories have life,heart if you will,that people can connect with,and that is what makes themsuch enjoyable reads. Thank you for all the hard work that goes into these stories.

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