'OK,' he said, 'you finally wore me out. You got a deal.' Tom wanted to shout with joy. He'd been trying to nail down the old sod and his TV company for six months. Instead he stood and held out his hand. Simons grasped it in strong bony fingers and clapped him on the back.
'I tell you, Tom,' said Simons, 'I wouldn't dream of getting into bed with you guys if it wasn't for Meredith.'
'I'm glad she finally won you over,' said Tom, beaming at the tall redhead. 'She's pretty persuasive, isn't she?'
'Yes, sir.' Simons ignored the slender hand she was proffering and slid his arm around her waist. 'I'm already thinking of changing my mind so she can persuade me all over again.' Tom laughed but it rang a little hollow. He knew the kind of persuading Meredith had been up to and he was far from happy about it.
Simons had pulled the girl into his arms and was kissing her enthusiastically. One hand was on her back, rocking up the peach silk of her blouse, the other dug into the rounded flesh of her buttocks through her skirt. She disengaged her lips for a moment.
'Take it easy with my clothes, Ralph,' she said. 'You don't have to tear the paper to get at the present.'
Ralph relaxed his grip. 'Hey, that's smart. That's what I like about you, Meredith, you not only got a great ass you got brains.' And he laughed.
Tom's face ached from the effort of holding his smile in place. He wanted to kick the bastard in the nuts but Meredith's hazel eyes were flashing him an unmistakable message: Don't blow it now.
'OK then, little lady,' boomed Ralph, 'take off the gift-wrapping yourself.' He sat back in his chair with a smirk on his face. 'I bet Tom appreciates a striptease as much as I do.'
'Come on, Ralph,' said Tom, 'a joke's a joke.'
'It's OK, Tom,' Meredith cut in. 'I don't mind entering into the spirit of the occasion.' She pulled her blouse from her skirt with one hand and kicked off a shoe.
'Get up on the table,' commanded Ralph, 'and make it sexy.'
She made it as sexy as she could, considering she wasn't dressed for the activity. She quickly peeled off her blouse and skirt and winter tights and posed in a silk half-slip and matching panties. Her nipples were clear points beneath the slip and her knickers were caught in the cleft of her bottom. She stood above them, her face a mask of indifference, and let them look.
'Take off the rest,' said Ralph.
She pulled the slip over her head and flung it at him, her bare breasts shimmying. He caught the material and held it to his face, inhaling her perfume.
'Now the panties,' he said, his eyes big as he watched her tug the gusset free of the chestnut curls of her pussy. He snatched the garment and pressed it to his nose. 'You smell hot,' he said.
'You make me hot,' she said, 'you filthy old ram.'
'Ain't I just?' He reached up and ran his hand into her crotch.
His fingers probed her damp bush, seeking the entrance to her vagina.
Tom was frozen with horror and lust. Meredith had told him that Simons was a disgusting old lecher - now he was seeing for himself.
'Hey, Tom,' Ralph said, one hand busy between Meredith's legs, the other prying apart her buttocks, 'pay attention - I'm warmin' her up for you.'
Tom looked at Ralph without comprehension. He had been debating whether to slip away and leave the pair of them to it.
Ralph's beady glare was fixed on him, even as he palpated Meredith's tender flesh. 'Take your pants off, son, and show an old boy how it's done.'
'But... I...' he was at a loss.
'Come on, baby,' said Meredith, holding out her hand. 'Ralph wants to watch us make love.'
'No,' said Tom. 'Definitely, no.'
'I don't think you mean that, son.'
'Please.' There was a note of desperation in her voice.
'Look, partner, you want this deal, don't you?'
What choice did he have?
He unzipped his pants...
It was late afternoon by the time Tom and Meredith left Ralph Simons' penthouse and returned to their hotel. It had been a lengthy session. Tom supported Meredith around the waist as they approached the door of their suite in the Bluestone Towers.
'God, I can't wait to get under a shower,' she said. 'I feel like I've been swimming in spunk.'
'Who would have thought the old goat had so much juice in him?' whispered Tom into her ear. He felt high on sex and success.
'It's OK for you - it wasn't your ass he spunked over,' said Meredith.
This was true. For a finale to his orgy of voyeurism, Simons had made Meredith kneel between Tom's legs and take his cock in her mouth. Then he'd pulled a gnarled but virile penis from his pants and shot off all over her beautiful derriere. Tom hadn't been able to prevent himself spunking down her throat at the same time.
'Just think,' he said as he ushered her into the palatial sitting room that had been their home for the past week, 'you'll be able to tell your grandchildren you once got it at both ends from two millionaires.'
She stopped in the middle of pulling her clothes off. 'Sometimes you disgust me, Glass.'
'Sounds like you could do with a drink. How about some champagne to toast the deal of the decade?'
'No,' she said. 'I want a shower, coffee and bed - on my own. Ring room service if you want to be useful.'
Tom watched her sumptuous white buttocks wink at him as she strode to the bathroom. He ordered the coffee and followed her, there was a serious point to be made.
He perched on the side of the bath while she stood beneath the teeming water.
'What's it going to take to persuade you to stay here and keep that old lecher sweet while the deal goes through?'
She considered the matter as she soaped her voluptuous body. Tom watched the lather glisten on the gentle dome of her belly and gather in the luxurious vee of curls in her crotch.
'I'd settle for a piece of jewellery,' she said, holding out her left hand. 'Like a ring on my third finger.'
His eyes focused on the big wet globes of her breasts while his brain took in the implications of her words. He said nothing.
Meredith sighed. 'It's OK, Tom, I'm only joking. Why would I want to marry a man who'd sell my ass to Ralph Simons? Just give me a cheque.'
'Ten grand?' said Tom quickly.
'Make it twenty. It's a high-class ass.'
Tom did not disagree.
The phone rang in the sitting room. It was Simons. 'Are you alone?' he said.
'Yes, why?'
'There's a restaurant round the corner called The Blue Rhinoceros - meet me at the bar in ten minutes. Just you.'
Tom was pissed. He'd had more than he could stand of the old villain for one day.
'I'm sorry, Ralph, Meredith and I have other plans and I can't just—'
'Hey, partner, remember I haven't signed the contract yet. Be there in ten minutes. Alone.' And he hung up.
Tom pushed through the crush of people waiting to check their coats in the foyer of The Blue Rhinoceros. He was fifteen minutes late - a small rebellion but the best he could do.
He found Ralph Simons in the crowded bar. He was wearing a white tuxedo and sipping what looked like a very large Scotch. When he saw Tom his face split into a melon-sized grin.
'Hey, Tommy,' he shouted above the din, gripping Tom round the shoulders, 'whatdya think of this place?'
'Busy,' said Tom.
'Of course it is. It's the hottest place in the city. Swifty Levine and Marian Mortadella eat here every night. Howdja like the decor?'
Tom followed the direction of Ralph's gesticulating arm and took in a vast dining room whose domed roof was painted to resemble some kind of African plain. The kind populated by leaping green wildebeest, scarlet lions and, surprise surprise, blue rhinoceroses.
'I say gimme a steak house any day,' continued Simons. 'Here it's third-world food at first-world prices. You pay fifty bucks for a burnt red pepper and a baby olive, whatever that is. But I'm old-fashioned, you're gonna love it. Especially when you see your date.'
'M
y date?'
'Here she comes now. Ain't that a fabulous-looking woman?'
Tom couldn't deny it. The olive-skinned, almond-eyed beauty seemed to float through the crush towards them. Heads turned and conversations halted along her route. She was tall, nearly six foot Tom guessed, and the mountain of black ringlets piled high on her head, cascading down her slender neck, set her high above the crowd. She wore the kind of black dress designed to make headlines at film premieres and charity galas; so cunningly cut away and cinched together across acres of gleaming flesh that it gave the impression she was both fully dressed and stark-naked at the same time.
In his ear Ralph said, 'May I present the Senior Vice-President of the Simons Corporation. Tom Glass, meet my daughter, Laura.'
Tom's head was spinning. He was seated at a table opposite Laura Simons, trying hard not to stare at her breasts. This was difficult because he had nothing to distract him from their impossible pneumatic thrust, artfully displayed beneath a whisper of black chiffon. Ralph had long gone - to the opera, he said - urging them to get better acquainted and not to talk business. Frankly Tom would have been happy to talk anything at all but each of his overtures was met with a monosyllabic response. All that remained was for him to sit in silence, magnetised by the shift and fall of his companion's near-naked bosom every time she breathed.
'Look,' she said suddenly, her coal-black eyes sparking into life, 'this wasn't my idea you know.'
'What wasn't?'
'This whole ritzy dinner shtick. Me sitting here like dogmeat and you ogling my tits.'
'It wasn't my idea either.'
'And if that's all you wanna do, jerk-off, you can go down Times Square and stick money in the slots.'
'I think there's some kind of misunderstanding here.'
'No there isn't. You're just some tourist thrill-seeker. I wonder what kind of hold you've got on my father to make him pimp for you, that's all.'
'Please, Miss Simons, I don't know what you're talking about. I can only suggest that if you find my company so objectionable we should terminate the evening immediately.'
She grinned at him suddenly. She had a big mouth, wide and fleshy with full pouting lips. The kind that would look good, the thought popped into Tom's head unbidden, poised above his stiff cock.
'You speak real la-di-da, Mr Glass. I guess it's because you're a Brit.'
'I guess,' said Tom, unnerved by what looked like another mood swing. 'Look, you don't like me and I don't like you, so let's go.'
'Where you gonna take me? If my father found out we split early I'd catch hell. There's a lowlife bar across the street - how about that?'
'I'm not going anywhere with you in that dress. You'll start a riot.'
She got to her feet, the bosom moving fractionally later than the rest of her. A man at the next table choked on a mouthful of pancetta.
'It's OK,' she said, 'I'll keep my coat on.'
They made their way out slowly, their early departure observed by every eye in the room. Laura giggled as they stood by the desk waiting for their bill.
'You know what they're all thinking, don't you?' she whispered into his ear. 'They think we're so hot for each other we're going home to ball our eyes out.'
It was true. Tom could see it in the faces of the men as their greedy glances crawled all over Laura's spectacular frame. The women were smirking at him, exchanging knowing remarks with each other. Suddenly he realised why - he was massively and very obviously erect.
Laura patted the bulge in his pants and said, 'Let's skip the bar and go back to my place. We wouldn't want to disappoint the people, now would we?'
Tom grunted his agreement. He wasn't capable of speech.
Laura's place was a ten-minute cab ride away across the wintery city. Despite the perishing cold, Tom's cock remained as stiff as a pike-staff throughout the journey. Perhaps that was because Laura had her warm fingers wrapped around it the entire time.
Her house was on three storeys close to the East River. Inside it was full of dark polished wood and chintzy drapes and Victorian prints. The atmosphere was almost European. Tom would have commented on this but the direction the evening was heading did not allow for it. In any case, he didn't want to talk to this peculiar woman - he wanted to fuck her.
They kissed for the first time in the small vestibule. As he had suspected, her wide flexible mouth was made for pleasure. Beneath his coat his penis was standing stiff outside his trousers, just as she had arranged it in the taxi. As she explored his mouth with her agile tongue she pulled his balls into the open. She examined his genitals in the dark as if she were a blind woman reading Braille. He kept his hands to himself and let her have her way. Eventually she took her mouth from his and pushed his coat off his shoulders.
'Come upstairs,' she said.
He followed her up the steep stairway, the split skirt of her dress swaying in front of him, displaying the lean lines of her legs with every step. Near the top he caught her by the ankle.
'Stop,' he said and she obeyed.
'Pull your skirt up,' he said.
She looked over her shoulder at him and grinned slyly.
'You look pretty funny standing there with your dick out,' she said, hitching her skirt up over her rear.
She wore sheer black tights with a cutaway seat and the olive ovals of her exquisite bottom pouted at him in exotic invitation. He fought the urge to bury his face in their satin perfection.
'Aren't you cold going around like that?' he said.
She bent over, resting her elbows on the top of the stairs. 'I find ways of warming up,' she said.
He smacked the delectable hemisphere of her left buttock, the sound echoing round the small space.
'Yes,' she said, 'like that.'
He smacked the other cheek, harder this time, leaving the clear imprint of his palm on the pale flesh. She sucked in her breath with a hiss and stuck her bottom out further.
He took a buttock in each hand and gently pulled her open. The circlet of her arse was a nut-brown whorl and the rear of her vaginal purse was hairless, the lips long and madder-hued. He ran his tongue the length of her crack, sucking those long lips into his mouth, then sliding back up again to tickle the bulls-eye of her anus.
'Oh,' she murmured.
He tongued her arsehole thoroughly and then brought the bursting head of his tool up to lodge between the olive globes of her bum cheeks. If she had protested at this point he would have retreated. She said nothing but laid her head flat on the stair. Her spread behind nuzzled back against his straining penis, rubbing and inflaming him.
He poked the head of his tool into her behind without ceremony.
'Ah!' she cried but did not flinch.
The broad glans stuck in the tight ring but he pushed slowly in. She met him on the outthrust, arching her back and bracing her legs. She raised her head up, a riot of black ringlets tumbling down her back. Now he was in her to the hilt.
'Do it to me,' she hissed as his fingers found the knot of curls at the head of her pussy and pushed down into her slit. He fondled the slippery lips of her labia as he began to fuck her arse.
He was determined to make it last, to savour every moment of this bizarre coupling on a staircase in a strange city. He wanted to make Laura come and come again, to thrust in and out of her bottom and diddle her clit until she couldn't take any more. Then he'd roll her over and plug her pussy and play with those big tits that had tormented him earlier. He wanted to flood Laura with a riot of sensation and an ocean of sperm.
He smacked her buttocks some more as she convulsed beneath him in her third or fourth orgasm. Then he exploded deep inside the magic tunnel of her incredible derriere.
The funny thing was, he didn't even like her.
They crawled up the remaining stairs to her bedroom, not able to walk, and collapsed on the bed. He tore the remains of her dress from her body.
'Bang goes five thousand bucks,' she said.
'Who cares?' he said placing his
head reverently between her spectacular breasts. 'I'll buy you a dozen more.'
'What would I have to do to earn them?' She slicked his foreskin up and down his prick.
'I'll think of a few things.' He sucked a thick chocolate-brown nipple between his lips.
'Don't think,' she said, 'let's just do.'
And they did.
The phone woke them at eight in the morning. Laura stretched a slender olive-brown arm across Tom to answer it. In the morning light her skin was as flawless as an infant's. She looked as if she had slept for twelve hours as opposed to three or four. He kissed her throat and she turned a lazy soot-black eye on him. His cock came instantly erect as she spoke into the phone.
'The joint stinks, daddy, but it didn't matter.'
Tom wasn't listening to what she was saying. He pulled her on top of him, his hands sinking into the satin-soft swell of her hips, his mouth caressing the delicate stem of her neck.
'I gotta tell you I cursed you for over an hour...'
He nudged the tip of his tool into the groove of her sex.
'...but I've been thanking you ever since.'
He slid up her in one smooth movement and she settled onto him with an imperceptible sigh.
'You were right, daddy. You always are. Oh!'
His hands were toying with her fabulous bum, cupping and separating the globes, ringing the honeyed circlet of her anus with a fingertip.
'You'd better talk to him yourself, daddy.
He had one hand in her bush now, seeking her tiny pulsing clit. She held the phone to his head and the unmistakable voice of Ralph Simons filled his ears.
'Say, Tom, you're not married, are you?'
'No, I'm not.' What was the crazy old coot on about?
'A businessman ought to be married. You ought to settle down, son. Have a family.'
Laura began to kiss the corner of his mouth and the sharp points of her breasts burned into his chest as her belly rubbed against his. It was hard to concentrate on what Ralph was saying.
Eroticon Heat Page 23