Black Orchid

by Roxanne Carr

  'Th-thank you, Con,' she said shakily, 'we'll be in touch.'

  He seemed to be about to say something then, thinking better of it, he grinned and nodded, striding away from her with the same jaunty confidence as when he approached her. Maggie watched him go, admiring the neatness of his muscular behind in the tight-fitting jeans. As the door swung to behind him, she slumped slightly, running her fingers distractedly through her dishevelled hair.

  She jumped as the door opened again and another man came through. She hadn't buzzed to say she was ready yet – surely she had time to wash and pee?

  'One moment I . . .' she trailed off as she surveyed the man who hovered uncertainly in the doorway.

  The contrast between this one and Con was so marked it was almost laughable. It was almost as if they were from a different species. This one was a good foot shorter, about equal to Maggie's own five feet six inches with a skinny, weedy build. His shoulders were rounded, his chest even more so, virtually concave. The white T-shirt he was wearing should have clung to his pectorals, instead it hung loosely across his chest and disappeared into his baggy grey slacks. Maggie guessed he must be here for maintenance, or some other thing that would have to wait until later.

  'Sorry,' Maggie smiled politely, pulling her robe more closely around her, 'could you come back later?'

  He blinked uncertainly and shuffled his feet. Maggie tried to conceal her impatience. She had an increasingly urgent need to pee and she could feel the residue of Con's semen trickling down her inner thighs.

  'I'm rather busy at the moment,' she explained, 'you see, I'm in the middle of interviewing.'

  If he thought it odd that Maggie was conducting job interviews dressed in nothing but a silk robe, he did not show it. He virtually wrang his hands together as if gathering his courage to speak to her. When, finally, he did dare to address her, his voice was shrill with nerves.

  'Excuse me, but I'm next, Madam.'

  Maggie stared at him, fighting with the urge to laugh.

  'Um, well, I'm sorry, but I think there's been a mistake. You do know what the job entails?'

  'Oh yes, Madam. I think I'm well suited to it, begging your pardon for being so bold.'

  His ingratiating manner was beginning to get on Maggie's nerves. Her tone was abrupt as she asked him. 'What's your name?'

  'Malcolm, Madam.'

  Well, it would be, wouldn't it? Maggie's lips twitched. He had virtually bobbed a curtsey as he introduced himself.

  'Pleased to meet you, Malcolm, but I don't think you're quite what I had in mind for the job.'

  She expected him to give up at that point, but he was still gazing at her hopefully with his wide, brown, lost puppy dog eyes. She sighed. He really was a most uninspiring specimen. Not only was he nauseatingly self deprecating but his mousy brown hair stuck up in alarmed tufts on top of his head, reminding her of a toilet brush. Losing patience, she abandoned all pretence of charm and snapped.

  'Look, Malcolm, I need a shower and a pee and I don't have time to stand here and argue with you. Do you understand?'

  His face took on an expression of adoration.

  'Oh yes, Madam, but if you'd just allow me . . . may I?'

  Maggie frowned. Maybe if she humoured him, he'd go away. She nodded, raising her eyebrows in surprise as Malcolm dropped to his knees and shuffled towards her. She stood stock still as he reached her and pressed his lips against each of her feet in turn.

  Glancing uncomfortably at the two-way mirror, she imagined Antony and Alexander watching them. It was a new angle to her to find herself in charge of a man as submissive as this, and she was not sure if she liked it. Malcolm reverently lifted the hem of her robe and began to lick his way up her inner thigh.

  Maggie tensed as another droplet of semen seeped out of her and ran down her leg. Malcolm lapped it up, sucking at the soft, damp skin as if the combined juices of her coupling with Con were the sweetest nectar. Whatever his deficiencies as a man in her eyes, Malcolm definitely had a skilful tongue. Maggie relaxed against the desk and obligingly parted her thighs, granting him access to the sticky curls between them.

  Closing her eyes on the unattracive sight of Malcolm's hair between her legs, Maggie concentrated instead on the pleasant sensations of his respectful, wet tongue lapping its way along her moist folds. After the punishing encounter she had enjoyed with Con, Malcolm's attentions were soothing against her swollen sex.

  He nibbled on her resting bud until it began to spasm, not with the furious, all-consuming tremors Con had evoked, but in a gentle, mild climax which was pleasant rather than mind blowing. Maggie smiled, glad that Malcolm had some talent.

  Unfortunately the orgasm caused the muscles of her overfull bladder to relax and when Malcolm very deliberately pressed the tip of his tongue firmly against her urethra, Maggie was powerless to prevent a small trickle of urine from escaping.

  Mortified, she clenched her pelvic floor muscles to stop the leakage, but Malcolm seemed determined not to let her go. The urge to pee grew stronger as he teased the tiny hole, probing with his tongue until she could hold back no longer.

  Maggie looked down in horror as the steady stream of golden liquid flowed over Malcolm's face and down his neck. His eyes were closed, his mouth open, the expression on his face rapturous. He had unzipped his flies and was masturbating himself furiously. As Maggie finished, his orgasm overtook him and his semen spurted out, mingling with the steaming urine on the front of his trousers.

  Repulsed, Maggie lifted her foot and pushed his shoulder with the toe of her mule. Malcolm toppled over, writhing about on the floor in a paroxysm of ecstacy.

  'You filthy little worm! Make sure you're out of here when I get back!'

  She flounced into her private bathroom and locked the door behind her. Her angry, flushed face stared back at her in the mirror over the basin. Suddenly, she began to laugh. The little man was priceless! How many of their clients, probably stuck with a boorish, domineering partner, would like to get their own back on mankind? And Malcolm had obviously loved every minute of the humiliation to which she had unwittingly subjected him.

  Taking the time for a quick, rejuvenating shower, Maggie changed into a clean robe, identical to the first, and ventured back into the office. To her relief, Malcolm had disappeared. Someone had been in to clean up for there was a damp patch on the carpet and the sharp antiseptic scent of cleaning fluid hung in the air. Maggie pressed the button on the intercom.

  'Next, please.'

  11

  The next candidate virtually bounced into the room. He was fit, exuding good health in his casual, dark-red sweat top and baggy black track pants, and he was young. Very young.

  'I'm Jason,' he introduced himself eagerly, trying not to make it obvious that he was eyeing her up.

  Maggie hid a smile as she noticed he already had a hard-on and that the track pants could barely contain his enthusiasm.

  'How old are you, Jason.' she asked him, resisting the urge to ask if his mother knew he was here.

  Jason's cherubic, boyish face split into a cheeky grin.

  'Everyone asks me that. I'm twenty . . . well, all right, I'm eighteen – honestly,' he laughed as he saw her disbelief, 'I could show you my driver's licence?'

  'No need,' she said quickly. She was sure that such basic, mundane matters would have been checked out long before he got to this stage. Briefly, she wondered if eighteen was old enough. But there was eighteen, and there was eighteen!

  'Do you like women, Jason?'

  'You bet!'

  'All women?'

  'Tall, short, fat, thin, blonde, brunette, redhead—'

  'OK, OK!' she laughed, 'I get the picture.'

  She walked slowly towards him, watching his reaction as she deliberately allowed her hips to sway. It wasn't difficult to adopt the exaggerated roll of the pelvis in the high-heeled mules. Jason stood still, only his eyes following her as she circled him, looking him up and down appraisingly.

  He had an open
, honest sort of face, smooth jawed, blue eyed with a smartly barbered crop of shiny, clean blond hair. There was a deep cleft in the centre of his chin which hinted at more craggy looks as he aged. His body was well sculpted, his legs long and lean and his chest pleasingly broad. Maggie could smell the faintest trace of fresh, lemony soap as she stood closer to him, noting the way his cock leaped in his trousers in reaction to her proximity.

  'Do you like to fuck, Jason?' she enquired, dropped her voice an octave.

  His colour rose slightly, but he met her teasing gaze without flinching and grinned.

  'You bet!' he said again.

  'Hmm. And does your skill match your enthusiasm?'

  'Want to try me?'

  Maggie smiled and reached up to run her forefinger down the side of his smooth-skinned cheek.

  'You bet!' she whispered.

  Jason's lips were unexpectedly demanding as they moved on hers and Maggie felt her blood quicken. So he looked young – she certainly didn't feel in the least bit maternal towards him now! Taking him by the hand, she led him over to the lemon chintz couch and pulled him down onto it, on top of her.

  Briefly, she wondered if Antony and Alexander were enjoying themselves behind the two-way mirror as she contented herself with savouring the kiss. Drawing Jason's tongue into her mouth, she sucked at it gently, encouraging him to relinquish the self-control she could sense he was struggling to retain.

  She lifted her shoulders up off the couch to help him as he eased her robe down, exposing her soft-tipped breasts. His eyes were hot, warming her skin as he gazed down on her with a mixture of admiration and lust.

  'God, you're beautiful!' he breathed.

  Maggie hid a smile at the conviction in his voice. In anyone else she might have dismissed the comment as a stock line, but from Jason it sounded fresh and new. As he lowered his head to kiss her breasts, Maggie tangled her fingers in his thick, glossy hair, massaging his scalp as he drew one swelling nipple into his hot mouth.

  Tiny shivers of pleasure coursed down her spine and she felt the moisture begin to gather between her thighs in response to the feel of his lean young body pressing against her silk-covered mound. Jason's hands were roaming at will all over her upper body, his mouth planting tiny butterfly kisses along the tender skin of her inner arm from her wrist to her armpit before tracing the line of her collar-bone and running back down the other arm from shoulder to hand.

  Maggie helped him remove his trousers and briefs, her mouth curving into a pleased smile as his penis sprang into view. Like the rest of him, it was well formed and hard, the soft protective foreskin already drawing back to reveal the purple headed glans beneath. Maggie would have liked to have tasted that magnificent specimen, but she was aware that time was short.

  Her brief was to try out each candidate's satisfaction quotient from a woman's point of view. Any pleasure they derived from the exercise should be purely coincidental, not arrived at through any direct action from her.

  With that in mind, she pushed his head gently lower. He needed no further encouragement to open her robe completely and spread her softly quivering thighs.

  Maggie gasped at the first contact of his tongue on her swollen vulva. This sensation was completely different from Malcolm's tentative, nervous licks. Jason ran his tongue around the tender folds in bold, confident strokes, as if he were settling down to a particularly delicious meal.

  As the centre of her pleasure zone responded, she arched her back and bore down, inviting him to deepen his exploration. He did not disappoint her. She groaned as his hard, seeking tongue found the straining nub and flicked hungrily back and forth over it.

  A delicious warmth slowly radiated out from that tiny point, suffusing her with a sense of well being that only truly good sex could imbue. Jason had found her blossoming opening with one finger and he gently moved it in and out as he continued to diligently stroke her outer sex with his tongue.

  Maggie wrapped her long legs around his neck, holding him to her as the familiar waves began to break and the heat rose up and consumed her. All her attention was focused on that small core of her femininity as it pulsed and throbbed against the pressure of Jason's eager tongue.

  She smiled at him as he raised his head. His eyes were glazed, his chin smeared with her feminine secretions and he was smiling. Dipping his head, he blazed a trail of kisses in a line from her pubis to her throat before claiming her mouth.

  Maggie wrapped her legs around his waist and urged him to possess her. He leaned his forehead against hers for a moment as the tip of his swollen cock nudged against the entrance to her welcoming sex. He slipped inside her with a sigh, resting there for a few seconds before beginning to slowly withdraw.

  Gradually, he built up his rhythm, exquisitely slowly at first, then gaining momentum. Maggie matched his movements, bringing her bottom up from the sofa to meet him, drawing him into her and tightening her intimate muscles as he withdrew.

  His smooth skin grew hot under her palms as he began to quicken his pace, building to a crescendo. They rolled together, slipping off the couch and onto the soft carpet. For a moment, Maggie was on top, then he rolled her over again onto her back, holding her buttocks in his hands as he thrust into her.

  Maggie could feel little thrills of sensation rippling through her as the movement of his thick, hard shaft stimulated the walls of the silky sheath which enclosed him. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the delicious friction, digging her fingernails into his shoulders as his breathing became faster and more shallow and his movement became frenzied. He cried out as he came, collapsing on top of her and covering her face with kisses.

  'God, you're fantastic!' he gasped, his voice quavering.

  Maggie cradled his head against her breast as she waited for his breathing to slow and his temperature to return to normal. She was touched by his gratitude, moved by his innocence. His sexual style owed more to enthusiasm than finesse, but it was energetic and honest and she knew this was an experience she would look forward to repeating.

  At last, they peeled apart and he used her bathroom to freshen up while she called for a cold drink. He took a coke from her gratefully and drank it quickly. Maggie sipped at hers, watching the muscles in his throat contract as he swallowed.

  He grinned at her as he handed her his empty glass. 'Thanks – I needed that! Have I got the job?'

  Maggie smiled.

  'We'll be in touch,' he told him.

  His face fell, a picture of disappointment.

  'Oh.'

  Maggie could not let him leave like that. She stepped forward and kissed him on the cheek.

  'I'm sure we'll meet again,' she murmured, her face turned away from the two-way mirror so that only he could hear.

  Jason's face split into its usual happy grin and he hugged her.

  'Be seeing you, then,' he said and he left with as much spring in his step as there had been when he first came in.

  Maggie took a few minutes to compose herself. She knew now why Alexander had decided to watch the proceedings. No doubt it gave him a kick to see her take five men one after the other. She shivered. If only she knew what went on in his mind!

  After she had washed, she buzzed the intercom and took a seat by the curtained window so that she would have time to appraise the next candidate before he saw her. The door opened and a young, long-haired man swaggered through it. His hair was a dirty blond colour, his eyes, when he turned them on her a faded blue. He was wearing tight, brown leather trousers and a white, wide-sleeved cotton shirt, unbuttoned at the front to his navel.

  'Hi babe, I'm Darren,' he drawled.

  Maggie winced. He looked and sounded like a parody of a seventies rock star. A complete turn off.

  'Hello. Won't you sit down?'

  She indicated the other rattan chair and he strolled over and perched awkwardly on its edge. His eyes skittered from her face to the window and round the room. He linked his hands loosely in front of him, brought them up to his chin, then
dropped them again. Finally, he seemed to be able to bear the silence no longer.

  'Well, are we goin' to get it on or what?'

  Maggie considered telling him to get lost and go and do 'or what'. She didn't have the energy. Standing up, she raised her eyes heavenward at the two-way mirror before turning back to Darren, unbelting her robe and letting it fall to the ground. Then she stepped out of her shoes and waited.

  His faded blue eyes grew rounder, fixed on her naked breasts as he leaped to his feet and tore off his clothes. He had a good body, Maggie noted dispassionately, probably better than young Jason's. So why didn't the sight of him, naked and erect, do anything for her?

  Darren's hand on her bare skin were cool and knowing. As if following a tried and tested ritual he had learned off by heart, he smoothed the skin of her neck and squeezed her breast, kissed her half-heartedly and stared soulfully into her eyes as he led her over to the sofa and slowly laid her on her back.

  Maggie's mind wandered to the meal Alexander had promised to cook that evening, one of her favourites. She frowned slightly as Darren thrust one hand between her closed thighs and twiddled about for a minute. Satisfied that she was wet – he wasn't to know that she had already been with two men and could hardly be otherwise – he bent her legs at the knees and thrust into her, making her wince.

  His face was intent as he drove in and out of her and Maggie realised he had probably forgotten who she was. So intent was he on reaching his own climax, he didn't notice her grimacing frantically at the two-way mirror.

  'Yes! Oh yes!' he yelled as he reached the peak.

  Maggie fought the urge to giggle. He rolled off her and they both dressed in silence. There was a bubble of smug self-satisfaction about Darren which she was longing to burst. Her chance came soon enough.

  'When do I start work, then, darlin'?' he asked her casually as he zipped his leather trousers.

  'You don't.'

  'Huh?'

  'I think you have been labouring under a misconception, darling. This is an exclusive club for very discerning ladies. Not a knocking shop set up for the benefit of our male employees.'