Lucky Seventh

LUCKY SEVENTH

Erica Judd

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2017 Erica Judd

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

My Blog

My Smashwords Profile

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Title page

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

About the Author

For everyone

who believed in me.

Thank you.

This book deals with dark themes and contains disturbing scenes. If you have been the victim of violence or sexual assault, be assured that you are not alone, and please seek help should you need it.

CHAPTER ONE

All Reco saw at first was a bright blur of light. Some bastard was hammering inside his head with an ice pick. Last night was nothing more than a series of half-glimpsed shades, slipping from his grasp to hide in deep and shadowed crevices.

Shielding his eyes with one forearm, he forced them open. Unfamiliar ceiling above him. Unfamiliar bed beneath him. Unfamiliar red-brick wall beside him. Reco tipped his head to the left and peered down past his feet. Unfamiliar tallboy in an alcove formed by the foot of the bed and an unfamiliar white wall. On top of the tallboy were decorative boxes and a clock that read 11:58. Behind the clock his jacket lay neatly folded with his wallet and hip flask on top. He still wore his jeans, t-shirt and socks. No boots. They were probably on the floor somewhere.

He rolled his head to the right. A matching red-brick wall ran along the far side of the room. Opposite the bed was a yellow corduroy couch that made Reco squint. On the couch sprawled a sleeping girl with a light blanket tangled around her feet. She looked no more than twenty-two or -three. Long-legged, tawny-haired, thin and curvy. Her red undies were as bright as the couch, and her black t-shirt had something written across her chest in white.

The New Black, Reco thought. That’s what the boob-words say. And the memories of last night crashed down on his head.

***

Reco had savoured the almost-sexual anticipation of the needle sliding under his skin. He watched blood mix with speed in the syringe, and paused for a moment as they combined. Yes. A good combination. He thumbed the plunger down, and closed his eyes as the euphoria washed through him, lifting his mood. Saturday was a good night for going out and forgetting everything. Everyone else was getting wasted too, and nobody judged a weekend drunk.

Reco added a light jacket to the jeans, t-shirt and boots he’d put on after his shower. He didn’t need the jacket for warmth in February, but to carry his hip flask. Too drunk to serve wasn’t anywhere near drunk enough for Reco. So he laid in a backup supply. He did a pocket pat-down as he headed for the front door: keys; phone; wallet; vodka. He’d checked his wallet before his shower, making sure he had plenty of cash, his ID, condoms, and a little dab of speed tucked behind his driver’s licence.

Pulling the door closed, he gave it a firm shake to make sure the latch had caught. It didn’t matter now Lenny was gone, but the few occasions he’d come home and found the door ajar had filled Reco with a creeping dread.

The evening glowed. It had been a hot day and there was a warm-toffee filter over the city. Reco started down the hill to the Seven Stars pub. The speed coursed through him. This was the good part, the time before the speed made him antsy and he had to kill it with booze so it had no chance to let slip the demons. The time when he could peruse the women in the Stars and score with at least one of them. Another thrill of anticipation, this one decidedly sexual, shivered through him. Although it was less than three blocks back to his house from the pub, he never took the women there. Sneaking past Johnson into the back stockroom, fucking in the back of their car like horny teenagers, or finding a shadowed corner against a wall – those were ways to start a night.

Reco paused as he reached the pub, catching his ghosted reflection in the window. Sometimes in the highly-focussed grip of speed, he got stuck examining reflections of himself, wondering what it was that had set him apart.

Women were attracted to his tall, thin, somewhat dishevelled looks. Or perhaps they were attracted to the dark, fraught aura that clung to him now – that sense of otherness and mystery about him.

His own eyes haunted him. It was, in part, the speed-dilation which left a mere hint of pale brown around the pupils. But the greater part was much more. As Reco wrestled his mind away from that train of thought half a dozen young women came around from the car park, jostling each other playfully as they entered the main bar. One of them, a pretty, chubby blonde, looked back at Reco and winked.

‘You look fine, sweetheart... hell, you look damn fine!’

Reco grinned and followed her inside. The women headed for the back corner, the blonde sitting apart from the others and angled to watch Reco. He hauled himself onto a barstool with her off to his right. He ordered a beer and as he drank he glanced around the room, studied the bottles behind the bar, and made a lot of eye contact with the woman. He smiled, he held her gaze, he gave her lingering, body-encompassing stares.

She had shapely ankles, round calves, and wide, firm thighs. Her breasts weren’t big, but her low-cut dress accentuated them. Reco had checked her backside as he’d followed her into the pub, and he’d found it pleasingly large and firm beneath the flared skirt of her silky black dress. Her eyes, flashing at him from across the room, were large and long-lashed, and her lips, which kept curving into flirty little smiles, were full and expressive.

Reco’s mind presented him with a clear image of those lips wrapped around him, those eyes peering up at him. Suddenly hot under the collar and tight in the pants, Reco shifted to relieve the discomfort and ordered another beer.

He was starting on his fourth when she finally got up and sauntered over to him. Her hand was warm on his lower back.

‘Would you like to join us?’ she asked, her bright blue eyes conveying that it was a strictly one-on-one invitation.

Reco smiled down at her and slid off his barstool. ‘Sure,’ he said, picking up his beer and following her across the room. She settled him beside her on the bench and turned to him, excluding her friends.

‘Seemed a shame to leave a cutie like you drinking alone,’ she said, picking up her drink – something that was a violent shade of pink – and clinking it against his glass. ‘Here’s to drinking and making new... friends.’

Reco drank to her toast, sliding his arm around her shoulders. She snuggled into him, lightly kissing his neck, her left hand drifting across his thigh. Her fingers grazed back and forth, her knuckles brushing his crotch. The contact was almost non-existent, but Reco knew it was deliberate.

He kneaded the back of her neck, drawing her forward into a kiss. Her lips were soft and hungry, and the image of her sucking him leapt back into his mind. He grunted softly and shifted, uncomfortable in his jeans again. Her hand moved higher, rubbing purposefully.

Reco nibbled at her plump lower lip and pushed his tongue into her mouth. She made a contented ‘Mmm’ sound and wrapped her tongue around his. Man, how amazing that would feel...

They were both panting when they drew apart. Reco smirked and wiped the wet corners of her mouth before reaching for his beer and gulping it in two large swallows.

‘You’re a damn good kisser,’ he said, setting the empty glass on the table. She tossed her hair and gave him a look that spoke volumes.

‘Among other things,’ she said, cupping his crotch for a moment as she took a few swallows of her bright pink drink.

‘Oh really?’ Reco asked, rubbing his left hand up and down her side as he drew her close again. She groped her drink onto the table and turned fully into him, fingernails tracing hot lines along the waistband of his jeans, raising flames of desire as they scraped his belly, oh, so close.

He drew away from her and whispered, ‘You wanna go somewhere a bit more private?’

‘I’d like nothing better,’ she whispered back, giving his crotch a long squeeze.

Reco took a shaky breath and kissed her again, hard and insistent. ‘There’s a back room, if we can sneak past Johnson...’

She smiled. ‘My car’s up the back of the parking lot.’

The last of the light had bled out of the long summer day when they stepped out of the bar. She took his hand and led him around the corner of the building. Pushing him against the still sun-warm wall and kissing him hard, her hand explored his shape and size. Reco gripped her buttocks, pulling her tight against him. One hand slid down, evading her skirt, and came up between her thighs. She moaned and wriggled, but pulled away.

‘Oh God. Let’s go, baby.’ Grabbing his hand again, she hauled him through the car park to a small two-seater station wagon, parked in a convenient pool of shadows.

They didn’t undress: her undies and pantyhose were around her ankles, her skirt up around her waist; his jeans bunched around his thighs.

She slipped a condom onto Reco’s erection. The soft bulge of her belly pushed against Reco as she lifted her hips. He wanted a boob. Their kiss collided, hot and wet. She groaned into his mouth, arching to push her breast into his palm.

Alcohol and speed warred in Reco’s body, the booze at the cusp of ruining his sexual appetite, the speed still clinging to dominance and driving his lust.

To Reco, sexiness was a confident woman who gave and took and invested as much of herself in their union he did. This woman was one of the sexiest he had ever known. Her abandon and absolute involvement in this sweaty, gasping, groping act were building Reco’s need for release, but the speed held him back. His focus narrowed to a single point: fuck this woman good.

Her breath caught, a tremor like an electric current running through her. She dug her teeth into the skin below his ear, released one long breath, and rammed her pelvis up. Reco groaned, and he came. Hard.

He lay lightly on top of her, panting.

‘You were right,’ he said. ‘You’re not only good at kissing.’

She smiled and tilted her head. ‘Now, did you really doubt me?’ she asked coyly. Reco chuckled.

‘No. But is sure as hell was fun finding out for myself.’

‘Mmm,’ she responded, grabbing his head and giving him another heavy kiss while her thighs squeezed his hips. ‘Fun for both of us.’

In the awkward space in the rear of the car they hitched their clothes back into position. She flipped onto her belly, reached between the seats and pulled a Sharpie from the console. Pushing up the sleeve of Reco’s jacket, she scrawled a mobile number on his inner forearm. A shard of an old Kye Archer song bounced around Reco’s head: I got your number but not your name. A familiar story over the past year and a half.

She tapped his arm with the lidded pen. ‘No obligations,’ she said. ‘But if you feel inclined.’

After entered the pub again, she smiled at Reco, wiggled her fingers, and went back to her friends while Reco found another bar stool. The Stars was crowded now and he couldn’t see her from his new perch, but it didn’t matter now their encounter was over. Reco was squeezed in between an old guy nursing a beer, and a group of young couples who all seemed to talk at once, very loudly, and laugh a lot.

Reco caught the bartender’s eye and ordered a double Scotch. He threw it back in one and toyed with the glass, debating ordering another or moving on.

A shrill peal of laughter from the chick next to him decided it. He’d see what was happening further afield. He threaded his way through the crowd and out onto the warm, dark street. The city lay before him and he let his eyes and mind wander. So many possibilities.

Reco took a right at the corner of Hume Street and headed towards the Waterfront. Lots of pubs there. Lots of friendly women, too. If he felt inclined again. It wasn’t as easy to have a sneaky one around the Waterfront as it was up at the Seven Stars, but he knew a few good nooks where darkness was a friend.

Oh, the choice of women! The freedom to choose with whom and when he had sex. Knowing that he was in control.

His mind flipped back over the last eighteen months, savouring the memories of willing women. He had lost count at some point, but there were a dozen or so who really stood out in his memory. The blonde from the Stars was going to be a fond memory for a long time to come. He ran his fingers lightly over the sleeve of his jacket, as if reading her number through the fabric by feel. He’d be giving her a call in the next few days. They hadn’t even exchanged names, but the sexual chemistry between them was fantastic. And his mind kept taunting him with the certainty that she would give great head.

His fondest memories were of the women with whom that chemistry had been there; that feeling of control and collaboration. The times he’d given or gotten a number, made or received that call. None of them were ever serious, it was clear from the start. Convenience and good sex. That was what Reco was all about. He and Selena used to joke that they had the longest one-night stand in history – a year of frequent, half-clothed, risky sex in parks and nooks and alleyways. Selena had loved the sense of danger, and the situation had suited Reco to a T. But then she’d met Eddie and had fallen in love with him.

Reco crested the rise in Juniper Street and the glittering pedestrian haven of the Waterfront spread itself before him.

He paused, his eyes roving across the splash of light and activity. Shops, galleries, pubs, clubs, restaurants, and a brothel or two, in old sandstone warehouses facing across the mall and park to the long-disused wharves. There was a clear view across the bay to the new Port District.

Hax nightclub, in the old Hackney Cab Hotel, was pumping. Reco remembered something about an '80s night, but he wasn’t sure he was in the mood for dry-grinding on a crowded dance floor.

He set off down the hill, deciding to start at Tor’s pub, then move on to Mess Mates, a sea-themed pub and restaurant in the old Port Authority building. If he felt like it later, he’d finish up at Hax and see what the talent was like '80s style. His linen jacket and stubble could probably be passed off as a half-arsed Miami Vice costume, if anyone asked.

Two doors short of Tor’s, Reco’s plans changed. An alley ran between the buildings, leading to small art galleries and crafty shops. As he approached, he saw two people talking by the end of the alley, and recognised the back view of his old friend Louis Falaniko.

But his plans took their sudden diversion when he saw the young woman Lou was talking to, leaning against the sandstone wall.

CHAPTER TWO

She was tall – eye-to-eye with Reco when she glanced over and met his gaze – and thin but curvy, with fantastic breasts. She wore a fitted back t-shirt, faded blue jeans and purple high-top Converse. Her tawny hair was straight but unruly, her large eyes almost too wide-set for her angular face.

Lou turned to see what she was looking at and a grin broke over his wide, dark face.

‘Reco, mate! Been a while. You keeping out of trouble?’

Reco laughed and ran a hand through his hair. He looked at Lou but couldn’t stop his eyes flicking back to the woman. ‘Now what would be the fun of that?’ he asked, and shared a wink between them. He stuck his hand out to the woman. ‘Hey there. Name’s Reco. Nice to meet you...?’

She took his hand in a firm grip and shook it. The current that passed through Reco wasn’t his usual sexual hit. This woman... This woman was something else.

‘Vanessa,’ she said, smiling and revealing a dimple in her left cheek. Reco was charmed by it, the clarity of the feeling shining through his dazed mind.

He couldn’t resist another look at her chest, which looked better every time he checked it out. The words The New Black were written in white script across the shirt. Reco nodded towards it and said, to explain his scrutiny, ‘So is that to do with the show or the Induced Illusions song?’

She smiled, and Reco’s breath caught at the way her hazel-green eyes crinkled at the corners. ‘Actually it’s neither. But I do like both. No, it was an art show my friend Devin put on a while back. See?’ She turned, sweeping her long hair aside, so Reco could see the back of the shirt, which repeated the script above the artist’s name, venue, and dates.

Reco took the opportunity to cast a quick glance at her backside. He was glad she was wearing jeans. Reco had always had a penchant for the way tight jeans fit a woman, covering but perfectly accentuating the shapes of buttock and leg. Although Vanessa was thin, her buttocks were rounded and firm, packed tightly into the worn denim, and Reco had an intense urge to grab and squeeze.

He didn’t. Some women he would have, knowing it would be okay, but Vanessa? No. She had looked at him with definite interest – he thought she’d felt that same odd connection when they shook hands – but she hadn’t been flirty or suggestive, like the blonde had been. And rather than blow jobs or hot sex, his mind had subjugated the speed and slowed down, for scenes of long, intense kisses. His palms burned with the mere thought of sliding over her hip and up her ribs.

He shook the mental images away and said ‘So, what are you guys up to tonight?’ He sent Lou a look, knowing Lou would hear the real question: Was there anything going on between them, or did Reco have a shot at getting to know Vanessa? His heart beat in his throat waiting for the answer.

‘I’m off on a blind date,’ Lou said. ‘I ran into Vanessa on my way to Tor’s, she’s been up at the Art Centre with Devin.’ His eyebrows gave a subtle flicker, telling Reco Go for it, mate!

Vanessa nodded. ‘He’s got a new exhibition opening soon, he wanted my input on the best way to hang some things.’

‘Where you off to now?’ Reco asked, hoping she wouldn’t mention a boyfriend. She shrugged.

‘Just off home.’

Reco tipped his head and grinned. ‘On a Saturday night? Pretty young thing like you?’

The look she gave him was shrewd but an amused and, he thought, flattered smile played at the corners of her full lips.

‘Yes,’ she