Her Sore Throat
Riley Cohn
Smashwords Edition
Copyright © 2012 by Riley Cohn
Cover photo © Kavardakova|Dreamstime.com
Cover art © Riley Cohn
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 Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Any and all characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to any real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Disclaimer: This eBook contains adult content and may not be suitable for all audiences.
Her Sore Throat
The apartment door was already ajar by the time John arrived on the third floor of the building. Rather than letting himself in uninvited, he rapped on the door with is fist anyways. He had just gotten off of work from his job at the newspaper, and was still wearing his ensemble: dress shoes, slacks, shirt and tie with a sweater over the top, and lastly a blazer. He had thick, black-rimmed glasses and a short, almost classic haircut. John wasn’t overly muscular, or wild, but he had a kind of low-key charm to him.
“Come on in, John. Door’s already open.” The woman’s voice was weak and hoarse.
John pushed the door open and stepped inside the apartment. “You don’t sound so good, Alona. Blake wasn’t kidding.” John hung his blazer up in the entryway and walked over to the nearby kitchenette. The apartment was small: in one corner was a dine-in kitchen. Attached to the kitchen was a large and mostly empty living room. The other half of the apartment held the master bedroom, bathroom, and a small closet.
“Blake,” Alona said, walking into view from the bedroom and shutting the door behind her, “is a jerk.” John noticed Alona was wearing nothing but a robin’s egg blue bathrobe that was loosely tied at the middle. Thanks to the plunging shawl neckline, John was shown a generous view of her cleavage. Alona’s skin was very pale, but it suited her sandy blond hair and deep, gorgeous brown eyes.
“A jerk?” John muttered in response, all of his attention focused on his best friend’s girlfriend. Alona was short, and petite, but her breasts were full and attention-grabbing and her skin looked delicate, soft.
“Yes, a jerk. I’ll explain in a minute. Didja bring the meds?” She reached down and adjusted the collar on her robe, causing John’s focus to dart somewhere else.
“Right here,” he said with a smile and pulled a box of over-the-counter generic medication. He read a line off the packaging: “It says it’s good for sneezing, coughing and sore throats.”
“Thank God,” Alona brushed up next to him and took the box from his hands. She read the instructions on it, mouthing the words silently as she went, before tearing one end of it open and shaking out two dark gel capsules that were individually wrapped in foil.
Alona grabbed a glass and filled it with water. “Today’s been hell. Total hell. Worse than yesterday even.” She paused as she swallowed the two pills and chased them by chugging half the glass of water. “All day it’s been warm saltwater and lemon-honey tea. That hasn’t been good for much. Think I should add some more salt next time?”
Alona’s last sentence caught John’s attention. “Uh, what?”
“You know, I was thinking maybe the warm water I’ve been gargling with isn’t salty enough.” Alona stared him dead in the eyes and grinned.
“Uh, yeah, you could definitely, um, try that next time.”
“God, John, you’re so hard to talk to. You this uptight around all the ladies?” Alona laughed and punched him lightly on the shoulder before she broke out into a fit of coughing.
“Just my best friend’s girl. Let’s go sit down. Come on.” John reached out, nervously, and laid a hand on Alona’s shoulder. He helped her over to the old green sofa that was in the middle of the living room. He pulled up a matching green ottoman and Alona sat down on the couch and sank backwards into it. She put her bare feet up on the ottoman. John kicked off his shoes and sat down next to her.
“Thanks for dropping by, John. Blake’s always so busy with that stupid new gig he got down at the gallery. It’s like he doesn’t even give a shit about me sometimes.” Alona was giving John an undecipherable expression. John pushed his glasses a little bit up the bridge of his nose. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that even though Alona’s robe ended at the knees, it had parted slightly, giving him a better view of her legs. John could feel a mixture of excitement and fear welling up inside both his chest and his groin.
“Look, Alona, Blake’s a good guy. He’s just one of those Type A personalities, you know? Live and let live.” John smiled reassuringly, but by now the longing and desire on Alona’s face was impossible to ignore. Her lips were moist and slightly parted, her pupils were dilated, she fidgeted and ran her fingers through her hair.
“But he’s not, John. You want to know a secret?” She leaned over to whisper in his ear before pulling back. “Wait, I probably shouldn’t. You probably don’t wanna catch anything.”
“It’s ok, I’ll take my chances.”