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The Emerald Room by Scarlett Knight

Experience the passion that ignites when handsome older men connect with young beautiful women. This steamy collection of four erotic short stories includes the kind of sexy encounters that only a blending of experience and youth can bring. Read how a composed college professor gives over to his lust for one of his faithful students, witness a seasoned theatre director succumbing to the stubborn wiles of a hot young actress in his play, and more.

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Excerpt:

The Emerald Room bar was one of the classier joints where Nate got paid to play these days. Every Friday for the past two months, he put on a jacket and bowtie and sat at their shiny baby grand, tickling the keys for his two-hour set. It was a hell of a lot better than some of the trashy spots he was forced to waste his talent in, places whose patrons were so noisy and crude, where his music drowned beneath the sound of shrill laughter and glass breaking.

But not this place.

Aside from the nice paycheck, and aside from the sleek marble-topped bar and tall cherry wood seats, and aside from the polite, well-dressed folks who not only listened to him but tipped as well, there was the goddess.

She always showed up when he was about thirty minutes into his set, usually around the time he was playing soundtrack tunes from movies like The Godfather. In she'd stride, wearing one of her killer dresses. Sometimes it was the little black one, her hair cascading like a golden wave down her bare back. Other times she wore the sparkling red number. Tonight she donned a silver gown with a slit all the way up to the top of her right leg, the lacy band of her stocking peeking out whenever she moved just right on the barstool.

God, did Nate have a thing for stockings.

Her black stilettos only made her heavenly legs even more mouthwatering, the way they caused the calf muscles to flex just right. In between songs he took a sip of his bourbon and loosened his tie. To imagine those legs wrapped around him…it was the fuel for many a fantasy after he went home, too chicken shit to talk to her.