IRE Scoville Scale: Tastefully Wicked














Men don't realize the sexual aura they exude in the most innocuous of moments. The way they sit, or speak or how they conduct themselves in meetings? There are millions of little involuntary clues that reflect their most intimate behaviors. Aware or not, Gabriel had ‘it’. He was like something from another era—intelligent, charismatic, unconsciously seductive, and at times bitterly indifferent. He was well groomed and his attire was subtle and stylish. This wasn’t lost on Sam or any of the female faculty. Gabriel was a man who begged to be savored.


He held doors and pulled out chairs, chivalrous qualities that in lesser men might have been perceived as weak. But in him it spoke to his breeding and self-confidence. There was something intrinsically sexual about him—something alluring. To look at him was to desire him; to ache for his touch. In the same breath he wasn’t to be trifled with and he didn’t suffer fools easily. His temperament runs the full gamut from pleasant to blatantly terrifying. But in all things he was subtle.


It was this subtlety that inflamed Sam. She could feel his eyes on her, lingering over each curve and crevice of her body even in his absence. His thoughts physically caressed her. They neither comforted nor commanded her—they were simply an omnipresence brushing across her skin.
Gabriel had ‘it’…and ‘it’ had her.


“You’re so beautiful,” Gabriel hugged Sam from behind as she loaded the dishwasher. His lips glided across the back of her neck. “I want you, Samantha.”


The four remaining guests from her dinner party could be heard chatting in the living room. Sam closed her eyes arching her back against him, “They’ll be gone shortly.”


He kissed her cheek. “Get rid of them. I want some quiet time with you.” With one last kiss he left.


Returning to the living room, Gabriel wished the three departing professors goodnight. Sadly one of them wasn’t Dr. Phillips. Dr. Phillips was the stereotypical historian: dry, sheltered, and lived in a world of his own. But he was an amazing instructor so Gabriel suffered his endless babbling about funding with thinly veiled contempt. Indeed, everyone was partitioning him for funding and there was only so much to go around. Due in large part to his popularity amongst the Alumni Association and his connections abroad, money was now flowing in steadily filling the gap left by his predecessor. Dr. Phillips was aware of this and struck while the iron was hot. Again, Gabriel assured him that he would receive the funds with the understanding that the project be conducted jointly with Dr. Terry Marlin, a professor of anthropology and Sam’s closest friend.


Dr. Phillips choked on his drink and said cautiously, “Sir, I don’t mean to question your judgment but Dr. Marlin is…you know…gay.”


Gabriel’s expression was flat and sour. He moved closer to Dr. Phillips and spoke softly yet firmly. “What does his sexuality have to do with anything? You’re one lonely Friday night and a pizza delivery boy away from being gay yourself. Frankly, I don’t care if he carpets his house with wall to wall pussy and sucks dick on the side. He’s an outstanding professor. His private life has no bearing on his ability to perform his job. Your personal beliefs are yours but don’t bring them on campus. I won’t have a bigot instructing my students.” He took Dr. Phillips’s glass from his hand and showed him the door. “You’ll have your funding. Goodnight.” He closed the door with Dr. Phillips staring wide-eyed on the other side.


“Is everyone gone?” Sam asked coming into the living room.


“Yes, that was Dr. Phillips leaving.” Gabriel answered kissing Sam. “Do you have any painkillers? I feel a headache….”


Sam frowned. “No lovin’ for me, huh?” She rolled her eyes and fetched Gabriel the medicine. “Goodness, you were all over me a second ago. What happened?”


“I can’t say,” Gabriel unbuttoned his shirt and walked to the bedroom. “I’ve been feeling badly all day. The headache is just the icing on the cake I suppose.” He took the tablets and water from Sam and downed them. Sam walked the glass back to the kitchen and returned to the bedroom.


“It’s late, we have work tomorrow. We’d better get some rest.” She put her hair up into a bun. “I’m taking a shower, you coming in?”


Gabriel sat on the bed with his elbows propped on his knees and his face in his hands trying to ease the pain in his head. “Yeah, I’ll be right there.” He flashed a weak smile. Sam took that as her cue to drop it. Gabriel hated being fussed over. But given his headache was entering into its fourth day he would’ve welcomed her motherly touch. She seemed to be the only person without their hand out asking for a favor or droning on about their problems. He pushed the thoughts for his head and came to his feet with the keen feeling that something or someone was in the room with him; his senses were off.


“Gabriel.” Sam called for him.


“Coming,” his eyes skirted the room…nothing…he turned the lights out and retired to bed. 



                                                                   ******



Later that night, Dorian tossed and turned and tried not disturbing Claire as she slept. The headache that plagued his day now seized his night. He rolled into his back, pinched his eyes tight in a vain attempt to force the pain from his body. His brain was in hyper mode; his thoughts were chaotic; his senses sharpened to everything around him; the very air seemed weighted. He rose from bed just as Gabriel’s eyes flew open.


Gabriel looked over at Sam, she to sleeping restlessly, and he rose from bed and retreated to the kitchen for a glass of water. He swallowed it down in one gulp. The fine hairs on his arms stood on end—suspiciously his eyes darted around the room. His cell phone rang, he answered.


“What are you doing awake this time of night?” Dorian asked.


“I suspect for the same reason you are. How’s your head?”


“Killing me. Do you think its father?”

“No,” Gabriel went to the living room and reclined on the sofa. “He would’ve called. Telepathy is his last resort. Besides, this doesn’t feel like him, it’s muddled. He comes across crystal clear. When was the last time you spoke to him?”


Dorian paused in thought. “Five maybe six years ago. You?”


“Four years. We were brief.”


“Then it could him.”


“Maybe.” The thumping in Gabriel’s head took his breath away. “Damn it! It’s getting worse. Alright, get some rest. I’ll call you in the morning.”


“Goodnight.” Dorian hung up.


Gabriel clenched his forehead and let the phone tumble to the floor. Sam picked it up and placed it on the table before snuggling beside Gabriel. He gathered her against him. She lay with her head nestled into his shoulder, one arm and one leg across his body. “I didn’t mean to wake you.” He mumbled into her hair.


“I couldn’t sleep. Is your head is still hurting?”


“I’m afraid so.” Gabriel sensed something was on her mind, “What are you thinking about?”


“Nothing.”


“You’re a horrible liar, Samantha. Spill it.”


“I’m worried about the funding for my project….”


The pounding in Gabriel’s head flared. “…and you want my help.”


“No, I don’t want your help,” Sam nuzzled her face into the slope of his neck. “I want you to guarantee that I’ll get my money.”


“Dr. Samantha Cross, you’re using me!” he grinned down at her trying not to let on that the pain was nearly unbearable.


“I’m not using you. Well, maybe a little.” Sam whined playfully. “I’d still be with you even if you didn’t have the authority to give me my money.”


“Your money?! That’s the second time you’ve said that,” he laughed, her lips parted to defend her remarks. He kissed them. “I understand what you mean.” He took a moment to study her face and asked in all sincerity. “Would you still be with me if I couldn’t?”


Sam searched his eyes. “Of course I would. Why would you ask?”


His thumb ran along her jawline. “I wanted to hear you say it, that’s all.” He kissed her lips. 



                                                                     ******



Hotel Maxant
Český Krumlov, Czech Republic

A tall strapping man with eyes the color of mercury checks into a hotel with a prostitute on each arm. The blonde was clearly more inebriated than the redhead. The front desk clerk turned a blind-eye and hurried the room key to the gentleman. In the room, both women strip—the blonde lie on the bed and waited to be taken; the redhead sat on the gentleman’s lap, kissing him passionately.


“You’re so sexy...” he said to her, softly. “Will you kiss her for me? I want to watch.”


“I’d love to.” she replied in broke English, smiling at him she climbed onto the bed, over the blonde and they began kissing to the gentleman’s approval. Her breasts brushing against the others, kissing her way down her body, lingering at her breasts, and then working her way further down. The blonde’s body arched when the redhead’s lip kissed their way over her soft belly. She spread her thighs inviting the redhead between them where she kissed her way down to her pussy, slipped her tongue teasingly up her slit. Her legs trembled as the redhead drug the tip of her tongue to her clit, circling and lapped greedily.


The redhead groaned softly. Her fingers parted her own slit and began stroking rhythmically. The gentleman watched—it was getting intense. He couldn’t wait any longer. Continuing to rub the blonde’s clit, the redhead turned to the gentleman and beckoned him over. He climbed onto the bed, fed the blonde his erect cock and angrily kissed the redhead while she fingered the blonde. The blonde sucked and swirled her tongue around the gentleman’s swollen head. The gentleman groaned urgently and pulled the redhead’s hair as he came. The blonde jacked him into her mouth. Again and again, he poured into her. She swallowed what she could and the redhead licked the rest from her face.


The gentleman smiled sadistically. The night had just begun.



                                                                    ******


Samantha’s heels clunked loudly on the cobblestone path as she marched purposefully towards the Deans’ building. Her bangs flung away from her face contorted with anger. Gabriel was on her heels carrying his briefcase and preparing to do battle. Samantha swung open the building doors and almost took the heads off of two students on the process. She made it to Gabriel’s office only seconds ahead of him and tried to slam the door in his face—he caught it before it could inflict any injury. She threw her briefcase on his sofa and paced like a lunatic.


“Let me guess…” Gabriel said rounding his desk. “You’re angry.”


Sam stopped in place; her eyes bore a hole through his smug expression. “I can’t believe you screwed me over! You knew I was waiting for funding and you gave it to Dr. Phillips. You promised me!” Her nails dug into her palms. “And then to add insult to injury, you paired me with Dr. Jacobs on a Time Team dig! What the hell is that about, Gabriel?! She’s pathetic! Months ago, I asked her question about the Lombards, her area of specialty, and she looked up like a startled woodland creature, craning its neck to see what’s happened!” Sam paced frantically. “No, I can’t do this. Have you stepped foot in her classroom? It’s like some fucking absurd cathedral of light—it’s all Power Point presentations and laser beams—presumably so the students can cling desperately to some sense of what the hell’s going on! Its bullshit and you’ve stuck me with her!!”


Gabriel was unmoved by her theatrics. “I’m guessing this conversation isn’t going to end with you bent over my desk calling me Daddy?”


Sam picked up a crystal bookend and launched at Gabriel’s head. He ducked and it crashed against the wall behind him.


“Was that really necessary, Samantha?” He asked, his tone was as cold as the day outside.


“Yes! And the next time I won’t miss!” She grabbed her bag and stormed from the office.


Looking at the shards scattered about his feet as Dr. Phillips knocked on his door an entered.


“Brilliant way to start the morning, huh?” He said seeing the mess.


“As good as any.” Gabriel took a deep breath.