Exotika 03 - On the Loose

by Tesni Morgan

  Dare she wear it tonight? She had already showered, smoothed lotion into her skin and felt incredibly sexy in the dress. The skirt was calf-length and floated around her legs that showed through it, while the bodice was brief to the point of indecency. She was glad her breasts were so firm, for it would be impossible to wear a bra beneath. Her nipples stood out, two sharp points lifting the chiffon suggestively. A frisson of excitement shot down her spine. She took out a new black thong. She had tried the dress on when she got home from buying it and was so excited by the sight of herself that she had masturbated.

  The remembrance made her tingle.

  It also made her horny. She thought of David and ached with need. Her labia swelled and her ardent little button poked from its fleshy hood. She hurried to clip the matching black garter belt around her waist and rolled on sheer black stockings, careful not to snag them. She worked them up her legs and fastened the lacy welts to the garter clips. It was impossible to resist feathering her fingers across her bare belly, combing through her fair bush and tantalizing her clitoris. She gave a little moan, then exercised control, standing up and twisting around to look in the mirror and make certain the stocking seams were straight. Then she slipped on the thong and slowly lowered her skirt, concealing this naughty underwear.

  She felt around at the bottom of the wardrobe for plain black shoes. When she put them on the illusion of sexy glamour was complete. She struck a pose, hand on hip, legs braced so that her calves bunched and gazed at herself through narrowed eyes. More makeup was needed to enhance the picture and she set to work. Maybe she could wear this outfit if David invited her to a function. Boldly she applied more mascara than usual, along with eye shadow, blusher and lip gloss. It would give him the right signals. She could do it! And studying her newly created image in the mirror, she thought for an instant that she really could.

  She would have him not only eating out of her hand, but wanting to eat the rest of her too! She picked up a purple shawl and a clutch bag and went out the door, switching off the light behind her.

  Chapter Two

  David stared at the view of London from the balcony of his apartment. He had seen it so many times that it hardly registered—Tower Reach, the distant dome of St. Paul’s Cathedral and the flourishing Dockland site, once warehouses, but now luxury homes for those who could afford it. David smiled thinly. He was one of them, and he hadn’t got there without a measure of wheeling and dealing, stepping on those less ruthless than himself as he steadily climbed the ladder of success.

  He hooked a finger under his tie and dragged it off, then opened the collar and the top of his shirt. His chest was hairy and muscular. He worked out regularly. Fencing was one of his hobbies. Tempted to undress and lie on a padded lounger, soaking up the sun’s late rays, he was interrupted by a buzzer. He strode across the living room and spoke into the intercom.

  “Farlan here.” He was impatient at being disturbed when he was about to pour himself a whiskey, carry it outside and ruminate on the day’s events. “Who is it?”

  “Laurette.” An instantly recognizable female voice caressed his ear. It was husky and sensual, fascinating her many fans. She was a popular TV presenter, famous for the way she had of turning even those programs about decorating rooms or rearranging gardens into something incredibly erotic. And she was under contract to Beyond Enterprise.

  “Come on up.” He pressed a button on the security panel.

  While he waited her arrival he allowed himself a smidgen of anticipation, often so much more pleasurable than the reality. Laurette, witch woman of the media. Like him, she had clawed her way to the top, careless of those she hurt on the way. And in her personal life she resembled him, married and divorced twice, but with no children. David couldn’t imagine her as a mother or himself taking on the responsibility of fatherhood. They were both far too selfish. Yet he was fond of her in a weird way, though they fought like cats and dogs. Maybe they were simply too alike? He was afraid of being hurt, having been there, done that, got the T-shirt and vowed never to let a woman break his heart again. He kept them at arm’s length, except in bed, and even then they had to accept his terms.

  Within minutes, the elevator had whisked her up and he opened the hall door. The first thing he noticed was her exquisite perfume, then her classic, film-star face that owed much to nature, but a lot to makeup as well. She had high cheekbones, slanting, feline eyes with thick lashes under finely arched brows, a wide, ox-bow mouth and cascading chestnut-hued curls. He knew this was her natural color since it matched her bush, and his experience of this was varied and exciting, though lately she had been depilated and had rings inserted in her labia. Laurette was nothing if not experimental.

  “Darling.” She threw her arms around his neck. He bent to kiss her, tasting her breath and letting his tongue dance with hers. Yet even as he did so, he was wondering about Carenza, having found her most desirable.

  Laurette was wearing black, and the drama of that somber color enhanced her feisty bearing. She definitely had attitude. No one dared gainsay her. Except David. He ignored her temperamental outbursts and, literally, bent her over his knee and spanked her. She loved it and came back for more.

  He hazarded a guess that this was why she was there that evening.

  Holding her close to his chest, he slid his hand down until it cupped her bottom. Laurette squirmed and pressed her pussy against his burgeoning erection. He eased up her skirt, her rhinestone-encrusted dress so skimpy that it resembled a slip. Beneath it she was naked. His agile fingers entered the crack between her cheeks and one of them found the slippery wet opening to her vagina. He smiled sardonically. Her reason for visiting him was all too obvious. She moaned into his mouth.

  “Bad girl,” he murmured, without taking his lips from hers.

  She hung there languidly, her hair falling across the arm he positioned under her shoulders. “David, you’re naughty.” She was almost purring, and her smile in no way resembled the cheesy grin she used for the camera.

  “And you love it. Have you come here for a fuck?”

  “Whatever you say, master.” She settled herself on his finger as he slid it in to the second knuckle.

  “And if I don’t feel like it?”

  “Oh, I doubt that. I’ll bet you’re all steamed up after interviewing that moppet who was in your office longer than usual this afternoon.” She slipped from his grasp, walked to the bar and poured a drink.

  Ah, David mused, so this is what it’s all about, apart from her desire to be humped. Could she be jealous of Carenza? “You think so?” He gave nothing away.

  “I know so.” She ran her tongue suggestively ‘round the rim of her glass. “Nothing gives you a hard-on like an inexperienced girl. Isn’t that the truth, sweetie?” She sashayed across and gripped his penis.

  “You saw her? I thought you were on an assignment.” He resisted the urge to draw back. He didn’t trust her an inch and she was quite likely to do him some damage. She released him, but continued to run her fingers up and down the erection distorting his chinos.

  She gazed up into his face and he was amused by her mischief-inspired smile. “I was watching you on the closed-circuit screen. She’s a honey, and ripe for an introduction to our ways. Have you engaged her?”

  “I thought you knew everything,”

  “Nearly all, darling.” She slipped down her glittering spaghetti straps, exposing breasts that were full and shapely and natural, not silicone implants. Undoing the remaining buttons of his shirt, she feathered her fingers through his chest hair, particularly the whorls that circled his nipples.

  The sensation shot straight to his cock and he gripped her fiercely, inflamed by her touch and the remembrance of Carenza. Laurette knew him all too well, his likes and dislikes and what turned him on.

  “You may be right. Why are you worrying about what I do with Carenza?”

  “Oh, I’m not in the least worried. But don’t be selfish, David. Let me have a share in your ne
w playmate. I can show her things that will make her hair curl.”

  “I’ll think about it. Now you’re going to be punished for your insolence. Who the hell do you think you are? Spying on me?”

  “Your slave, master, your devoted sub. I only want to help you enjoy the girl. That’s all I ever want. I’d do anything for you.”

  “You’ll do as you’re told for a start. Bend over the back of the couch.” He released his belt and his zipper made a whirring sound as he ran it down. His cock sprang out like a serpent freed from its lair, but he didn’t touch her with it—not yet.

  Her skirt was up around her waist and her bare bottom was sun-kissed, as firm and luscious as a ripe peach waiting for him to sink his teeth into it. This wasn’t his plan—not to begin with. She was impudent, getting way above herself and must be corrected. He stood behind her, raised his right hand and slapped her hard on the ass.

  “Ouch! Oh!” she yelped, but didn’t attempt to move.

  “What are you?” He was fighting for control. His dick was throbbing and almost finding its own way into her, but he wasn’t ready to come. This play could go on for a while yet.

  “I’m a tramp.” She panted and tried to rub her clit against the couch and gain relief.

  “What else?” He implemented the interrogation with another blow. Her buttocks were becoming fiery red, marked with the imprints of his palm.

  “A deceitful, disgusting hooker, who doesn’t deserve your notice, master.” She sobbed, and tears ruined her carefully applied mascara and made sooty runnels down her cheeks.

  Her words were like music to his ears, and to his rampant penis. He felt powerful, omnipotent, lord of all he surveyed. This woman, this popular woman whose photo appeared on the covers of trendy magazines, was nothing more than his creature, ruled by her own passions and her need to have him degrade her. He had almost reached the point of no return and slipped a hand under her, palpating her clit. Her tears dried and her moans increased.

  “I think I’ll stop…leave you hanging on the edge.” He mocked her grimly, while his finger continued to poke and stroke her hard, pearly button.

  “No! You can’t! Go on…go on!” She wriggled against it, as if aware of nothing except the driving urge to reach fulfillment. She put her hands on her breasts and pinched the nipples, whimpering, “Oh, please, master…do it. My clit…rub it! Rub it!”

  He leaned forward, his chinos chafing her thighs, his bare chest against her back and his dick ready. He remembered in time and pulled away, taking a condom from his pocket. The rubber made a little sound as he smoothed it on from tip of his helm to the base of his cock. He never took chances and there was no knowing where Laurette had been or with whom. She wasn’t fussy when in full lust and regaled him with tales of her amatory exploits. He didn’t allow himself to be disturbed by this, hardening his heart.

  Domination thrilled him, whether in the boardroom or bedroom. In that moment of time, only he could give her relief, bring her to a soaring orgasm that would bind her to him even more. He chose to do so, upping the speed and slickness with which he frigged her eager little organ. She was sweating and straining, her backside against the crispness of his pubic hair and the rigidity of his penis. He didn’t pause in that brisk massaging motion until she suddenly jerked and cried out. She went limp, collapsing over the settee back, and he dragged her hips higher and guided the head of his cock into her.

  She yelped again, then settled against it until he was buried to the hilt in her darkness. David had waited long enough. He plunged in and out as if he wanted to destroy her. Orgasm burst through him like a magnificent fireworks display. Careless of everything else, though her muscles were squeezing him as if she would rob him of his weapon, he came in a welter of sensation. Just for an instant, he loved the woman impaled on him—this always happened at the point of coming—but it was gone almost as soon as he had finished. Love Laurette? No way! And yet, weren’t they alike as two peas in a pod? He could do worse. She knew the business inside out and was a public icon in her own right.

  He withdrew and went toward the bathroom. There he removed the rubber, poured water into the floral-patterned basin, spun the taps and washed his hands and then his genitals, careful to remove all traces of her.

  When he returned to the lounge, it was to find her equally composed. She was seated on the couch with her shapely legs crossed, and every item of clothing in place, hair tousled, but that was the style, eye makeup repaired and lipstick outlining that luscious mouth. She was smoking a cigarette on a long jade holder, and glanced across at him. He poured himself another drink and took one over to her.

  “Well, what’s the score?” She raised it to her lips.

  “With Carenza or you and me?” He countered her question with another.

  “Carenza, of course. We both know how matters stand between us, don’t we?” There was a curious, almost tender look on her face, and the moment hung between them, with much left unspoken.

  He wasn’t sure what she meant exactly, but had an inkling, yet had no intention of giving her the satisfaction of showing weakness where she was concerned.

  “She’s on a trial run, and coming to meet you at ten tomorrow.” He went over to sit beside her.

  She pulled a face. “It’s so early, sweetie! Can’t you make it later?”

  He shrugged and downed his whiskey in one. “No can do. Take it or leave it, Laurette.”

  “All right. I’ll be there, and it better be good.”

  He rose and left her, turning toward the spacious bedroom. “So, what are you doing for the rest of the night? I’m off to the club to meet up with Matt.”

  “Nice one. That Aussie guy, tough, rugged and knowledgeable about surviving in the wilds. He’s fit. I would give him breakfast any day.”

  “Why don’t you come with me?” David would have preferred to be alone with Matt, discussing the details of a program he had in mind to produce, but he might use her as bait if Matt decided to be awkward regarding the deal.

  “Sorry, pet. No can do. Got a date with Marty Ryder.”

  “The new rock idol?” Ah, to be young and fresh on the scene, he thought regretfully.

  “Yep! I’ll see you tomorrow and tell you if the rumors concerning his sexual preferences are true.” She gave a sultry smile. David almost pitied this newcomer to the music industry, still wet behind the ears.

  “Be gentle with him.”

  She reached up on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. “Aren’t I always?”

  He grinned down at her. “A regular Mother Theresa.”

  He saw her to the door, and let her out. This was one thing in her favor. She was no clinging vine and didn’t expect or give commitment. He doubted that Carenza would be so understanding. But he was aware of a thrill of excitement as he visualized meeting her again and probing her heart and mind. There might be nothing there or maybe she would surprise him. It was a challenge, and David loved challenges above all things.

  * * * * *

  The Barley Corn Club was the venue for meeting anyone and everyone who was part of London’s racy set. It was situated just off Regent Street in the West End, and had once been a wine bar until bought by a farsighted entrepreneur who had caught on to its potential. Now it was definitely the place to see and be seen.

  Carenza found it already packed when she arrived. She and the girls had eaten in a bistro not far away. The club’s restaurant was so expensive that it could only be enjoyed if a rich person was paying, probably a man hoping to get into one’s panties.

  “You look gorgeous.” Vicky had assured her as they left home and hailed a cab. “If David Farlan inspires such a transformation, then he has my blessing.”

  “Hear, hear,” Joanna had agreed. “You’ve got it in you, girl. Just needs bringing out.”

  Nonetheless, Carenza felt almost naked as she stood beside them, fighting to get drinks at the bar. “Here, let me help, ladies.” A very tall, tanned man smiled at them. He had long, straight, sun-stre
aked brown hair caught back in a ponytail.

  “Thank you.” Vicky simpered and gave him the come-on.

  “What are you having? Find seats and I’ll bring the drinks,” he offered.

  Carenza didn’t like this takeover bid. “I’m sure we can manage.” She astonished herself by speaking up amidst the clamor of the music and club clientele. The stranger subjected her to another wide, winning smile. His bridgework was perfect, his teeth gleaming against the coppery tan.

  “No worries.” He wedged his wide shoulders into a space and leaned on the bar. “It’s my pleasure to help damsels in distress.”

  “We’re not damsels, or distressed. Stop being so damned patronizing.”

  “Just go and sit down, miss.” He seemed in no way offended, and Joanna pulled on Carenza’s arm and got her away. Vicky had already found a table.

  “What’s up with you?” Joanna guided Carenza through the throng.

  “Nothing!” She was agitated and couldn’t figure out why. “It’s just men. They want to boss you around.”

  “He’s dishy.” Vicky shifted up to make room for them on the banquette. “A real outdoors type.”

  “I thought you liked lounge lizards,” Joanna observed. “Pretty boys, cover models, the kind who shimmy down the catwalk wearing your designs.”

  Vicky decided to be huffy. “A change is as good as a rest! I can get the hots for a guy wearing combat pants and a khaki vest, like him.”

  “Me Tarzan. You Jane,” Joanna quoted wickedly.

  “Shut it. Here he comes.”

  “Not literally, I hope.”

  “Belt up or I’ll punch you!”

  Carenza was used to their verbal skirmishing, but hoped the stranger hadn’t overheard.

  “I’m Matt Clayburn.” He put the tray down and handed ‘round their drinks.

  “This is Carenza and Joanna, and my name’s Vicky. Where d’you come from? You’re not English, are you? What is that accent?”

  “Australian.” He straddled a stool opposite them. This was a showstopper—solid knees, lean thighs and a bulge between that promised much.