Author: A.E. Oliver (pseud. of Valerie Gray)

About: In this quartet of sordid and lusty stories, men and women and women and women come together in cheap motel rooms for tawdry sex and cheap thrills. They are the people you see all around you--teachers, cheerleaders, office drones--who put on a clean pubic face, but when behind closed doors in a $39/night room, they enter the twilight of forbidden pleasures and filthy desires.

Excerpt:

She was no stranger to sex, but still, she'd never engaged in anything quite so cold and impersonal, so devoid of affection or any sort of intimacy, and being forced to parade around in a motel room for his sexual enjoyment was humiliating and yet terribly arousing at the same time.

"It excites you, doesn't it, Miranda?" he said. "Showing off for me like this."

"No," she answered.

He smiled. "Don't lie to me. Your nipples are hard. I can see them from here. I'll bet if I put my fingers between your legs I'd find out you were wet, wouldn't I?"

The thought filled her with heat, and she tried to look at him without seeing him, as if she could see through him.

It was true. She had felt her own lubrication as she'd walked, but she was damned if she would admit it.

He shifted in the chair, sliding his ass down and spreading his legs, an arrogant, male gesture.

"I trust you can see what you've done to me?" he said. "In fact, you haven't been able to take your eyes away."

She would have blushed had her face not already been so red with shame and excitement. She hadn't been aware that she'd been staring, but she had.

She'd been almost entranced looking at his cock, and now she tried to compose herself.

She looked at his eyes and caught that predatory gleam there again, so she looked away, studying a cigarette burn in the carpet at the side of his chair. Even as she tried to hide her gaze, she could feel her nipples reaching for him. She heard him laugh.

"I wasn't wrong about you." he said. "You're a gorgeous woman, but you're a tramp. Not that you'd ever admit it, not that you'd ever act on it, but this excites you, having a man look at you like this, having this power over you."

"No," she said.

She was sinking again into that strange, trance-like lethargy: boiling on the inside, while on the surface everything was like a languid dream.

She felt his eyes on her like a lover's caress.

"Take off your bra," he told her.