Table of Contents
Eloise
Publication Information
Dedication
Eloise
About the Author
Also Available
Also Available
Thank You
Eloise
by
Victoria Michelle
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Eloise
COPYRIGHT © 2018 by Victoria Michelle
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: [email protected]
Cover Art by Diana Carlile
The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
PO Box 708
Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708
Visit us at www.thewilderroses.com
Publishing History
First Scarlet Rose Edition, 2018
Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-2202-5
Published in the United States of America
Dedication
Thank you to Melanie Billings, for reading my story of Glory and wanting to help bring her to life. I will always be indebted to you, Melanie.
Thanks to Shannon Coombs, my very first editor, who invited me to submit a story in this genre and liked what she read.
Of course, I’d also like to thank my family, for putting up with me and offering support in my quest to become an author—thanks guys, I love you all.
Eloise
It was just another dreary midweek rain-filled day on High Street, as I looked through the shop window and wondered for the umpteenth time if we were going to get any customers. I needed someone, anyone, to provide a cure for my boredom, but the way it looked, the rain was going to keep shoppers away in droves until closing time.
Mr. Baines, my boss at the small family-owned jewelry shop where I worked, forbade me from having my mobile phone in the shop with me, bugger the man. So, that couldn’t help pass the time. I had dusted and tidied up twice, so all I could do was stand around and watch the few people who were out and about dodge the puddles and dash between shop overhangs to avoid getting too wet.
Some had umbrellas, and here and there I could see different colored domes hiding faces and bobbing along the streets, while below them high-heeled boots clip-clopped along, raising droplets when they sloshed down in the puddles, and oh-my-God was I bored?
Mind you, I kept reminding myself, at least I have a job, unlike most of the friends I had been at school with. And Mr. Baines wasn’t so bad to work for, though he’d be a whole lot better if only he would let me have my phone so I could use my social media during the quiet periods. Then my life wouldn’t be so bad. At the very least I could text my lazy boyfriend and find out what he was doing. I had the feeling of late he wasn’t just hanging out with his mates, smoking weed and playing violent games on his gaming machine. I had the distinct feeling he was screwing Rachel Longbottom, the slag. I used to consider her to be a friend, but every time I saw her lately she wore this kind of smirk on her face, and had a knowing sly look in her eye. To be honest, I didn’t much care if she was fucking him, Because of late I had been coming around to mum and dad’s way of thinking that I could do quite a lot better than Haydon.
Maybe it’s time to move on from him anyway, I daydreamed, as I polished an imaginary speck of dust from the glass counter top.
Of the old crew of ten I was in with at Ascot Modern High school, only two of us were working. So, guess who had to buy the beers on a Friday night? Sure, life was tough, and it was hard for eighteen- and nineteen-year-olds to get work, but maybe if they just tried a bit harder?
Gawd, now I’m sounding like my mum.
“Glory,” Mr. Baines said, to break my trance-like state.
Seriously, why couldn’t he call me Gloria, which was my name after all? It so annoyed me. Glory made me sound like some football team chant. Not that Gloria was a brilliant name, but it was better than Beatrice, which was my younger sister’s moniker. Now that was just dreadful.
“I’m going out for lunch; you’ve got the shop to yourself for an hour, all right?”
“Yes, Mr. Baines.” Butter wouldn’t melt in my mouth, as my mother always said.
I don’t think he knew how much I disliked the way he looked at me, always undressing me with his eyes and trying to look up my skirt, the filthy bugger. “I’ll be fine; I will call you on your mobile phone if I get any tricky questions. That’s if we get any customers at all in this weather.”
“Hmm, well, stay positive; pretty girl like you should be able to charm anyone who comes in.”
He winked at me. Yes, people, he actually winked at me!
There he went again with those syrupy kinds of compliments which he thought made me feel good. He must think he was being very George Clooney-like. Probably so I would give him a blowjob or something. Mind you, he wasn’t that bad looking. In fact, truth be told, sometimes I found myself thinking of letting him fuck me! That was usually at times like today, when I was bored. Well, I often mused, he couldn’t be worse than my boyfriend, and would probably be a whole lot better. And, if it meant keeping my job beyond my probationary period… Well, I could think of worse things, in fact okay, if you pressed me, I’d have to admit I’d done worse things, and quite often, too. It’s not like he wasn’t handsome, for on oldie that is, because he is quite dishy.
“Thanks, Mr. Baines, that’s kind of you to say. I will be doing my best, here at the coalface, and should anyone come in I will be like a blonde attack dog.” I grinned at him. I liked mixing up my metaphors and seeing the look on his face.
“Err, yes, I suppose that will do. Back in an hour then, okay?” Then, before I could answer, he was gone.
I waited a full three minutes, and then looked out the window, to make sure he wasn’t coming back. Once satisfied, I dashed out the back and riffled through my white leather-look handbag to get my phone out. Almost breathless, I switched it on.
Ding, ding, ding, the thing chirped, with messages, and texts. But, wouldn’t you know it? No sooner had I opened the first one, the bloody bell rang as the shop door opened. I crammed the phone back in my bag, while muttering under my breath how God hated me.
I got back out into the shop to see who had the audacity to come in while I was so freakin’ busy. I struggled on my best welcome-to-the-fucking-Baines-Emporium look, and smiled as I walked through the beaded curtain, which clacked and cackled as the strands banged against each other.
“Hello there, how can I help you today?”
A woman was standing there, and a very, very attractive one at that. She was tall with an elegant long black coat, which gaped open from her tummy down to show off a bright yellow top, a black skirt short enough to show stockinged legs, and stiletto-heeled knee length boots. At her neck, she had on a yellow filmy scarf, knotted to the side, which gave an air of glamor. Her hair was black and cropped short, but God the look suited her and made her look sultry. Her body, under the big heavy coat, looked like the kind of body I hoped to have when I grew up.
That was a joke, by the way. I’m over eighteen and happy with my bod, and all the bits work too, if you know what I mean.
“Well, aren’t you a cute one?” Her husky voice was a bit like Bonnie Tyler’s. Maybe she is one of Rod Stewart’s kids, or ex-wives more like, I thought cheekily.
“Thank you, Ma’am. Can I help with anything specific, or are you happy just having a
look around?”
“Mmm, well now I’ve seen you, yes, I want something very specific.” She laughed, obviously at the look that crossed my face.
I felt all goose bumpy for some reason I couldn’t put my finger on. And then I caught onto the way she was looking at me, licking her lips like she wanted to devour me. Oh my God, she’s a lezzo, was the thought that rocketed through my brain like a freight train blowing its horn.
Okay, confession time. Last Christmas, at a rave party in an empty run down old house near the North Beach Pier, my cannabis-high boyfriend and his mate Mick, wanted me and his girlfriend, Jodi, to kiss each other a bit. I admit it: eventually we let them talk us into it, and we kissed a few times, and even did a bit of fondling. If I’m honest, it wasn’t half bad. The tabs we’d taken earlier made it feel a lot sexier than it probably was, with all those people watching us, but she did get me all hot and bothered. She even felt up my boobs, after she undid my top, and snaked her hand inside my bra, which I’ve got to say made me feel very wet down below. She was a great kisser, by the way, certainly she could have taught my guy a thing or two.
Suddenly it dawned on me what she was doing, and who was watching, so I put a stop to it, much to the boys’ disappointment. She told me afterwards, when we were having a drink together outside, just the two of us, she had liked it. She said she loved my boobs and if I ever wanted to go a bit further, she would be up for it. By then of course I’d calmed down, and laughed it off. But you know what? Sometimes I still think about that night, and wonder what it would have been like if I’d let her yank my tits out and suck them. Those times when I did, it made me very horny, and I wondered if I could have stopped her going further. That thought right there, ladies and gentlemen, that was worrying.
“Can you come and help me off with my coat, pet? It’s rather warm in here.” Her coal black eyes stared into my very soul.
Before I knew it, I had walked around the corner of the counter to help her, and then realized what I was doing. It was like I was hypnotized or something, into doing whatever she wanted me to do, and I felt more than a bit weird. I mean part of me wanted to do anything she wanted, and I do mean anything, but the logical part of my brain was screaming at me, what the fuck are you doing? Why are you helping to undress her?
I was halfway there when I had that thought, but I couldn’t very well stop midstride, so I carried on. She stood there, looking all Audrey Hepburn-like, just waiting for me.
Before I knew it, I was in front of her, as she looked at me, with those smoky dark eyes, as deep as swimming pools, expecting me to undo her buttons! So, really, I ask you, what else could I do? Yes, I bloody started to undo them, starting with the one that was right over her rather large boobs.
“There’s a good girl, I’m going to enjoy this, I think.”
Her words, said in her husky voice, made my fingers tremble as the backs of them brushed up against her, inside her coat. Not that I could feel anything remotely like skin, but it was damned sexy for some reason.
I opened her coat up and she shrugged to help get it over her shoulders. I was mesmerized, looking at what she was wearing underneath. She wore a bright yellow satin shirt with black buttons, black skirt just above knee length and fine denier black stockings. As her arms were up and back, helping to dislodge her heavy coat, the shirt buttons were gaping a bit, which showed just a hint of a black bra underneath. It looked as if it struggled to contain her tits. Just for a moment I had this crazy thought that they wanted to come out and play—stupid huh?
My God this woman was stunning, and could have any man she wanted in a five-mile radius, probably ten, and fifteen at a push. Yet, she looked at me like she wanted to devour me and not spit out the bones.
To distract myself, I walked around behind her and helped tug the coat down her arms. God, it was heavy, how did she manage to walk? Must be all the rain. Arnold Schwarzenegger would struggle carrying this.
“That’s much better, pet, isn’t it? Much more cozy.” She undid the knot on the scarf, slipped it off, and held that out for me to take. Honestly, I felt like I was a servant.
I walked over to the coat rack, feeling a bit confused. She didn’t sound like she hailed from the north of the UK, where I know they use the term pet a lot. On mum’s favorite TV cop show, I remembered the character Vera used it all the time and that was set in Newcastle. In good old downtown South Perth, in Australia, it wasn’t a term I’d heard used a lot, but bugger it, it sounded somehow so freakin’ dirty.
Maybe I’m dumb, but I thought what she meant by calling me pet, was that she would like to stroke me like a kitten or puppy. When I thought of that, then it did sound damn sexy, because being stroked by her, somehow would have been highly erotic. I felt myself blushing at the thought.
“How can I help you today, Ma’am?” I asked from the relative safety of being back behind the counter.
She stood in front of me, and then rested her elbows on the glass top so she bent at the waist, and I was looking straight down her cleavage. Boy, what a cleavage. “I like it when you call me ma’am, pet. It is an interesting mix. You sound like you want to serve me, but there is a hint of insolence in your voice. It’s quite sexy, did you know that?”
“No, ma’am, I certainly didn’t mean to sound insolent; please forgive me.”
She laughed. “So you don’t mind sounding sexy then? You do want to serve me, don’t you? That’s good, pet; we are going to get along fine.”
I had no idea what was going on here. It was scary, but interesting, and yes, okay, I admit it was a huge bloody turn on to have this glamorous woman saying very sexy lesbian innuendos to me. I’d seen plenty of girl on girl porn in my time; my useless boyfriend and his mates watched loads of it. They showed me frequently, and I’m sure they hoped it would turn me on, so they could organize a threesome. I mean please, really? Are all men that dumb? He wasn’t that good in bed when it was just me, but he thought he could handle two of us? He rarely, if ever made me cum. It was all just about him, he being my dominant male and all that shit. Yet he wanted two women? Please. Mind you, at least I might get to cum then, if she did me while he slept his orgasm off, the lazy prick.
I didn’t answer what she said, mainly because I didn’t know how to. I just looked down at the glass countertop as much to drag my gaze away from her breasts, which still seemed like they were asking if they could come out and join the party. I waited for her to say something else.
“What do you think of having a pearl necklace?” she asked. I couldn’t help it. I burst out with a fit of the giggles, which made her smile. “Why are you laughing, pet?”
“Please forgive me, Ma’am, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh, it just sounded funny.”
“Why funny, pet? Go on, tell me, I insist.”
“Well, Ma’am, in certain circles it can have rather a crude meaning. I didn’t mean any disrespect; honestly, it just ticked my funny bone. I would love to show you some pearl necklaces; did you have a budget in mind? We do have the river pearls, cultured ones, or even some South Sea black pearls.”
“Whoa, back up a bit, kitten, I’m much more interested in the crude version. Go on, tell me; I want all the details.” She stroked and patted the back of my hand, and it made me feel all tingly in my panties.
Now, if you want to know what I think. Well, I think she knew all along what it meant, she just enjoyed turning me on and watching me squirm. I was so intrigued, and I suppose a bit enamored by her, I thought I would play along and talk sexy back. I leaned on the counter top too, so she could have a turn at looking at my much smaller tits.
“Well, ma’am, it’s like you know, when you are sucking a man’s cock on your knees, and he is all really turned on like. When he comes over your face, that’s assuming he pulls out and doesn’t make you swallow it, of course. Well, when he does, and it drips down off your chin and cheeks, they say it looks like a pearl necklace around your neck.”
I got her deluxe; she laughed aloud
and sounded twice as sexy. Her gorgeous boobs jiggled in that expensive black bra of hers and I caught myself thinking: why do I keep staring at her tits? “Oh, pet, you are priceless. Tell me, what do you prefer? Do you swallow, or do you prefer the pearl necklace look?”
“Well, it might sound a bit odd.” I leaned closer so we were all conspirator-like, and I got a whiff of her amazing perfume. “But, it sort of depends on what my boyfriend has been eating and drinking. Sometimes it just tastes awful, and others it’s quite nice and salty.”
“Mmm, I would love to see you with one, pet; maybe you can come around and help me with my husband’s cock sometime.” She winked and smiled, but it wasn’t one of those I’m-only-kidding-around smiles, it was one of those, please-come-around-and-suck-my-husband’s-cock, smiles.
Suddenly, the thought of having a threesome took on a whole new light for me. I could feel myself getting very, very, damp inside my panties, at the thought of being shared by her and her unknown big-cocked husband; it got to me.
“Umm, let me show you the necklaces we have, ma’am,” I said, feeling very flustered, and dragged myself away over to the pearl display.
“Ma’am, I hope you don’t mind, but when I’m in the shop alone, I have to latch the door and put a sign up that I’m doing a private showing; is that all right?”
“Oh no, pet, I think locking the door to stop someone else coming in is an excellent idea.”
There she went again, making it sound like she wanted to strip me naked or something, when all I’d done was say something simple, that meant I could lose my job if I didn’t do as I was supposed to.
I crossed to the door, turned the sign over, and pulled the blind down, then latched it. I picked up three trays containing the pearls, and walked back to my customer. I was determined, despite the feeling of being incredibly turned on, to do my best to make a sale. Deep down, I knew I needed to go to the ladies room and diddle myself silly because I felt so fucking horny.
I laid them out in front of her and her gaze closed on one strand of exquisite cultured pearls from the North of Western Australia. She said, “Oh I like those; may I hold them?”
Eloise Page 1