by Sahara Kelly
“Now, the hair.” Brian slipped his fingers up and unclipped her large barrette, which she customarily threw in every morning to hold it out of her way.
Long tresses of dark brown hair tumbled loosely over Brian’s hands. Was it her, or did he just lift a handful to his nose and inhale? Nah. Must have been her imagination indulging in a bit of wishful thinking.
“See? Now that’s sexy. Nothing like long hair to get a man’s motor running.”
“Really?” God. Was that her voice? That wimpy, breathy little whisper? Kittens meowed louder than that. She coughed.
“Look Brian...”
“Wait there’s more. Photographer’s eyes, remember?” Brian gently tugged on a handful of hair that he just happened to be holding. For a long time actually.
Adele nodded.
“Now. The body.”
Adele shut her eyes and opened her mouth to begin her litany of her faults. She was not a fool. She knew her shortcomings, and there were plenty of them. Well, two major ones. Or minor ones, depending on how you looked at it.
Brian was slipping her loose sweater off one shoulder and sliding her bra strap down with it. “Sex isn’t just breasts, Adele...” he said, breathing on her bare skin and making every hair on her body stand up.
“It’s not?”
“Uh uh. Definitely not. It’s in a promise of something special. A hint, a look, a suggestion...you know all this. You photograph it...” he slid her sweater down even further. She loved floppy sweaters, and now she knew why. She tried to remind herself to go buy twelve more, but then Brian pushed her hair away from her neck exposing the line of her muscle. She promptly forgot her name, let alone her shopping list.
“Sex is this little bit of skin right here...” He touched her pulse that was pounding out an energetic rhythm of its own.
“And here...” he brushed her shoulder and pulled her hair completely back, away from her ear, her neck, everything. He tossed it over her other shoulder.
“Now. The legs...hmmm.” He pondered for a moment then slipped his hands up beneath her tunic.
“Brian, what...”
“Bear with me, Adele. Trust me here, honey. We’re working for your photos, remember?”
Good thing he’d reminded her, thought Adele. She’d just caught a glimpse of a piece of chest she’d like to gnaw on for about a week.
Gently, Brian eased Adele’s leggings down.
She gasped as his hands brushed her buttocks, and wasn’t sure whether she was pleased or sorry that she was a thong wearer. Something brushed them again. Something damp and wet. Like maybe a tongue? No. Couldn’t be. And yet...what if...she closed her eyes. Bless the saints, she’d build a shrine to St. Buttfloss. Offerings on a daily basis after this.
“Now,” breathed Brian, sounding a little out of breath. He’d pulled her leggings away and lowered her tunic back down. “Just one more thing...” his eyes roved around and then lit up. He moved away and returned within seconds bearing a pair of spiked mules.
“Dear God,” breathed Adele, as he touched her bare foot and helped her struggle up onto the slutty shoes.
“Oh yeah,” he said, straightening up beside her. “Better?”
She nodded, not trusting her voice at this point.
“Now them’s what I call legs, lady. The original stairway to heaven.”
His grin was pure sex and Adele was so damn hot, she felt she was about to explode. “Look, Adele. See what you can do when you put your mind to it?”
Adele looked.
They were almost of a height thanks to the shoes, and their dark hair mingled together in a soft mass.
Brian’s blue eyes gazed brilliantly from his flushed face as he lowered his lips to her shoulder and glanced up under his eyebrows at the mirror. Without thinking, she tilted her head away from him, allowing more of her neck to present itself to his mouth.
“Wait...we need one more thing, I think...” he muttered.
Quick as lightning, he pulled his shirt off.
Adele’s breath left her lungs in a whoosh. She knew Brian’s chest intimately, having studied it at length through her lens, and her glass. But studying it in two dimensions and having it pressed against her in three were quite different things.
“Breathe, Adele,” encouraged Brian.
She’d forgotten how.
*~~*~~*
He was the biggest hypocrite alive. Here he was encouraging the breathless woman in his arms to fill her lungs, when his were struggling to remember what the hell their primary function was.
Brian’s body had never felt as alive as it did right at this moment.
He’d had his share of women, in fact some said that with his looks he had his share and some other people’s share as well.
He’d known cataclysmic orgasms, in just about every position he could think of. He’d been straight and kinky, vanilla and non-vanilla. He’d had a go at most everything within a physical relationship at one time or another.
But nothing—nothing—compared to the feeling he had right at this moment.
Adele was pressed against him from shoulder to shin. Her bare skin was millimeters from his lips, just begging for a touch. His mind was swimming in her special scent, a kind of musky warmth that radiated from every pore on her body, and his hands had felt the softness of her buttocks as he’d slid her leggings down.
God, her butt. Firm, round, well shaped, her backside was all woman, the perfect cushion for some of his loving pushing. He’d given in to a strange impulse and lightly run his tongue over her cheek. She’d tasted sweet and tangy and like the finest wines. She’d gone straight to his head, and he couldn’t begin to imagine what it would be like to thrust his face deep into her pussy and taste her honey as she released her juices for him.
He wanted to bury his mouth between her legs, breathe in her essence, suck her clit until she screamed for mercy, and then do it all over again. Several times. Many times, actually.
A shudder ran through her body, echoing the one that was running madly around his groin. His black jeans were tight, but he was straining the fabric to within millimeters of its tolerance, not to mention savagely crushing his balls.
“See how sexy you look, love,” he breathed, sternly gathering control of himself while encouraging her to lose hers. There was a symmetry to the situation which doubtless he’d appreciate. Some other time.
Her brown eyes were luminous, glowing at the picture they made. Her soft pink sweater had slithered down one side, exposing her even pinker flesh and her shoulder.
Her legs were bare and long, soft and womanly, yet with a well-defined set of muscles that screamed walker or possibly jogger.
Brian doubted she had the time for a daily jog, but knew she was always on the move. These were not the legs of a couch potato.
She leaned on one leg and bent the other at the knee a little in an unconsciously wanton pose. “Brian, this is okay, I guess...but would it sell a sex toy?”
She was trying too. He could almost see her teeth clenching as she fought for control. Oh yeah, he was getting to her. He’d fulfill a few dreams and get her naked today, or his name wasn’t Brian...umm...whatever. She leaned against him even more.
He clamped down hard on his glee. “Of course, babe. Mind you, you’d have to be wearing less...” he tugged at her tunic. “This is not the costume you’d be wearing for the photo...”
She snorted. “I know that, thank you very much. And that’s another problem right there. I don’t exactly have over-developed assets, you know.”
This, thought Brian joyfully to himself, was almost too easy. “Well, now, let’s see what we have here...”
He slipped his hands around Adele and gently cupped her breasts, doing his best to ignore her gasp. “Hmmm...34’s I’d say, maybe a B? No wait...” he hefted her breasts in his hands, making sure that he got a good rub in over the nipples he could feel hardening beneath the soft sweater.
She sucked in air and struggled to keep her face
from revealing the arousal he knew was shimmering through her.
It matched the one that was playing hell with him.
“Maybe a C…whatever they are, they’re perfect.”
She snorted. “Maybe for some things, but the cover of a sex toy box probably isn’t one of them.”
“Good God, Adele, why not? It’s not like people are so ecologically aware that they’re going to save the packaging and jerk off to it later. That’s what girlie mags are for. In fact, this particular type of box is probably the most hastily disposed of wrapping around. Would you want your mom or your roomie to know you had just opened up your ‘Vibrating Bunny Plug’ or your ‘Rabbit Warren Plunge of Ecstasy’? Would you?”
Adele shook her head. “I guess not. Although it’s sad in a way. All my hard work and it gets shredded within a minute of delivery.” She sighed.
Which did nice things to Brian’s libido seeing as he still had two hands full of her breasts as she did so.
“Okay. So it’s settled.” With a sigh of his own, he released her breasts. He was harder than he could remember being since his teens, he wanted nothing more than to fuck Adele until her eyes rolled back in her head and they both passed out, but she’d not given him one single indication that she’d be willing to endorse that plan.
“You set up the shoot, and I’ll go get changed. We’ll start with the ‘Titillating Tuxedo for Two’, I think?” He turned hurriedly so that she wouldn’t see the boner distorting his jeans.
She staggered a little on her heels and quickly kicked them off. He caught a glimpse of a wet shine on her inner thigh.
Well, all right. She was turned on too. He grinned painfully as he made his way through the kitchen, grabbed the little mini pouch that was to be his costume and headed for Adele’s bathroom.
Quickly. He had a date with his hand before he could face her again.
Chapter 3
Adele took refuge in her cameras, trying in vain to find some measure of calm as she went about the business of setting up her shoot.
Her heart was still thumping painfully, and her ears were ringing, a sure sign that she was in serious trouble. She had a major bonfire of lust built up for Brian McMillan, and he was doing every damn thing right to ignite it.
She stopped twiddling a lens cap and wondered why. She’d felt the hardness of his body against hers and the hardness of his cock against her butt. Her almost naked butt.
She’d been within a hair’s breadth of reaching behind her, unzipping those damnably tight jeans of his and impaling her ass on the cock she knew would erupt from that fly of his.
God, it would have felt good too. She shivered once again, as she remembered how long it had been since she even mentioned that she enjoyed that particular sexual activity, let alone permitted anyone the privilege.
But Brian? Hell, he could do her here and now, right in front of her 105 f/2.5 lens. All he had to do was say the word and she’d be ass up and ready for him and here’s the lube.
Dear God. What was happening to her? Where were her scruples about being older than he was? And what the hell would he think if he came back out of that bathroom to see her forty-year-old backside spread for his pleasure?
Okay. Forty-one-year-old backside.
She snorted to herself and put the lid on her sexual urges. The hormones that had worked their way back up to a boot scootin’ boogie a little while ago were told to go away and behave themselves.
She reminded herself of her age, her dignity, the fact that her breasts sagged, and that Brian was the handsomest man for several hundred square miles or all the contiguous states, whichever came first.
He was simply psyching her up for this damnable shoot. He was a good friend. He knew how important her career was, and her reputation for never missing a deadline. He was clearly doing everything in his power to help her keep that reputation intact.
The fact that his touch sent a fiery shiver down her body to her clit was in no way his fault, and the fact that she was wet for him and hungry for him was a simple reaction of female hormones for male hormones.
Yeah. Right.
Adele sighed, facing the horrid truth. She lusted. In her heart and her pussy, and all the way to her toenails, she lusted.
She wanted Brian McMillan in the worst way, and the best way, and all the ways in between. She had done since he’d kissed her, uncounted years ago. But she was also much older than him. She was the one who would have to be in control of things. Even if, by some remote and heaven-blessed chance, Brian did find her slightly attractive, it was up to her to squash any hint of anything between them.
It would be by far the best for both of them. Brian was young and had a great future ahead of him. She was...not. Her future was set. She’d turned forty. Gravity, wrinkles, menopause and death lay ahead.
She sighed.
Shit, life sucked.
Brian walked into the room. Life suddenly got a whole lot better, and shrunk to the proportions of one very small, very tight, very black, male pouch, sporting a teeny tiny bow tie. It was worn by a very nice, very naked, Brian McMillan.
Who was also wearing that smile.
The one that made her undies melt, the one that the camera loved, and the one that women were known to sigh over, cry over and post on their refrigerator doors to remind them that there really was something worth giving up chocolate for.
The one that said, yeah baby, I’m yours, and it’s gonna be soooo good between us.
The one that she was going to have to work very hard to resist.
She jumped as she felt something smack her brain. Literally. Something inside her brain had just upped and smacked her and reminded her that she could have this if she wanted. All she had to do was go for it.
Her eyes feasted on the gourmet meal that was Brian, and her body sang the Hallelujah chorus. Slightly off key.
“So, if you’re set, why don’t you go get changed, and I’ll set up the spares?” He’d just spoken to her in what seemed to be Swahili.
“Huh?” Adele wrenched her mind out from between his legs and stared at him.
His grin got even bigger. “Go get changed. Shoo...” he motioned her off with his hands. His lovely, well shaped hands. Hands that could caress and squeeze and...my God it was getting hot in here.
“I’ll set up the spares. Adele.” He waved a battery pack in front of her rapidly glazing eyes. “The spares?”
“Oh.” She jumped and blushed. “Sorry, yeah. Okay. Um. Why don’t I just go and change then.”
“Yes. Do that.” Brian chuckled to himself as he turned away, giving her a glimpse of his perfect backside.
She couldn’t help it. She moaned.
Then she turned and ran.
*~~*~~*
She’d never know what effort it cost him to walk casually into the room where she was, wearing something that a respectable mosquito would have turned down in embarrassment for a day at the beach.
Brian breathed deeply, filling his lungs as she left the room, scurrying off to change and taking her legs with her.
He’d taken care of his immediate problem as soon as he’d reached her bathroom, and he hadn’t needed a girlie mag for it, either. Just the quick flashback onto the feel of her breasts in his hands, and the taste of her luscious buttock beneath his tongue, and he was spurting and coming like a kid.
He’d stifled his cry, biting his lips as the spasms eased.
But the need hadn’t gone away with the erection. The need for this woman was still there, and he didn’t quite know what to do about it.
As he took a very quick shower and dried off in one of the towels she always left for him, he pondered the question.
Adele was divorced, he knew that. No children, no close family any more. She was a very self-contained woman, independent, intelligent, talented as all get-out with a camera, and well-liked by everyone.
He knew she wasn’t dating at the moment, and wondered if she did much at all. God knew he thought she was gorgeo
us, but she seemed to have a real case of negative body image going on.
Then there was the age thing. He didn’t give a shit, but it seemed to worry her.
Brian placed the spare batteries for the remote behind the chair they’d be using during the shoot. Usually they’d go next to the camera, but this time, he wanted everything within reach. If he got up close and real personal with Adele, he was damned if he was going to let a little thing like a dead battery bugger it up.
Somehow he had to convince her that age didn’t matter. That the feelings between a man and a woman were what was important, not what page the calendar was turned to.
Brian narrowed his eyes as he realized suddenly how very true that was. Some of his friends were still acting like they were in high school, while others could have been grandparents or seniors for all the life they permitted themselves.
What the hell did chronological age have to do with any of it? It was what was in the mind and the heart, and yes, the cock and pussy, not what was in some mathematician’s mind as he devised a system for measuring the passage of the planting seasons.
Adele Martin was a beautiful, desirable woman, who rang his chimes with a vengeance.
She had done since that night he’d claimed her in the front hall of his apartment way back when.
Her lips beneath his and her body pressed against him had become one of his most cherished memories. Ever. The special nature of that moment had become even more clear as time passed, because not one other woman had come close to giving him the sensations that Adele had roused in him with her kiss.
When he’d met her again a few years ago, and they’d begun their professional association, he’d thought his comfort level with her was because she was an “old friend”. That he could relax before the camera and let his feelings out without being self-conscious about it.
Now, however, he faced the truth.
He’d been seducing this woman in the only way he knew how for the past six years. He’d let his body talk to her through her camera. He’d let his smile woo her and encourage her to tell him her secrets. He’d let their brief but regular meetings act in lieu of dates, skipping the awkwardness of dinner, and sliding right into knowing where her bathroom was and what was in her fridge.