Chapter 12

It had all started with her chance meeting with Barbara Kingman. After a long winter of cataloguing and summarizing findings from the last dig, Kimberley had been looking for a good health club where she could get back into shape for the next round of digging and sorting. Her social life at the time was almost nonexistent, so when Barbara, the manager at the club she’d decided on, invited her to come along with some of the girls from the club for drinks, Kimberley accepted gladly.

Barbara was tall, blond, and striking, with a self-confidence Kimberley envied mildly. She was also, Kimberley guessed, five or six years older than she was. Over the next few months, Kimberley developed a few friendships with the other club members, but found herself spending more and more time with Barbara. They both laughed at the same things, both got teary-eyed over the same schmaltzy movies, and they shared an interest in archaeology. They double-dated a few times, Barbara introducing Kimberley around, and twice supplying Kimberley with her dates for the evening. She did a commendable job of finding interesting men to spend an evening with. The only problem was, they weren’t quite interesting enough to spend more than an evening with.

They were in Barbara’s apartment after seeing a romantic comedy when Barbara brought this subject up:“I just wonder what I’m doing wrong, Kim,” she said, shaking her head. “I usually pick ‘em better than that.”

“What do you mean?” Kimberley asked. “I’ve liked them all okay. They’re all nice guys.”

“Uh-huh.” Barbara grinned. “You know there are two kinds of ‘nice guy’, don’t you?”

“Two kinds?”

“Yep. The first is the kind of man a woman says she wants, and the second is the kind of man she’s just not that interested in.”

Kimberley laughed. “How can you tell them apart?”

“Easy.” Barbara replied. “The first kind is entirely imaginary.”

Kimberley frowned now. “What do you mean?”

“Look.” Barbara took a sip of her drink, lounging back on her small couch. “A nice guy might be okay for marriage, kids and regular mortgage payments, but just how exciting is he? Aren’t we more attracted physically to the bad boy, the outlaw? Isn’t he more exciting?”

Kimberley smiled. “I see what you mean.”

“But…” Barbara went on, “after the sex, you don’t really want him hanging around. He may make you scream in bed, but out of it he borrows money, your car, he disappears for days, hits on your friends and always leaves the toilet seat up.”

Both women laughed. “Pretty accurate,” Kimberley nodded. “So what’s to be done?”

“As it just so happens…” Barbara began with a wicked grin….



And now, Kimberley thought bitterly, here I am. Barbara had put her in touch with…well, she supposed it could be called an escort service. Over several months she’d had an opportunity to explore and experiment in ways she’d never quite dared to try before. She discovered that with the right type of guy she liked her sex a bit rough and strenuous. Then one of her “dates”, after getting her thoroughly excited, had flipped her face down on the motel bed, handcuffed her, and proceeded to fuck her roughly from behind. It was as if some previously unsuspected switch had been thrown somewhere deep inside her. Afterwards she’d begged him to stay the night. He had, keeping her handcuffed and using her roughly…all in all, three more times. She found herself wishing there had been two men there, because in spite of her astonishingly overpowering orgasms, she found her appetite whetted rather than sated. She’d wanted MORE…and now here she was, tired, sore, and painfully uncomfortable. She’d had enough. She wanted a hot bath, a hot meal and a warm, soft bed. She wanted OUT!

And then she felt the third man’s hands playing with her breasts. She opened her eyes to look up at him. It was very late now. The campfire had dwindled to embers, and all she could see of him was a dark bulk blotting out some of the starlit sky. She could hear his heavy breathing over the noise of the night insects, and then he was on her, and then he was in her. She moaned weakly as he began with short, sharp thrusts that slammed into her, pounding her into the ground.