Oh, how she wanted to feel the four silver balls tracing along her pussy walls—without anything separating them.
her head against the cool window, she
city flash by. She held in a sigh of as she thought about what an incredible Her nipples grew hard again as she shivered with
remembered delight. Needless to say, it had been very difficult to walk away. This was the first time she actually had any regrets when it came to visiting the club. She was sorry about her "no outside relationship" notation, and if she was being honest with herself, the no kissing clause as well. Succulent required everyone to use a condom as well as provide annual health reports proving they were clear of any STDs. The rules were for her health, but damn if she didn't hate the Latex barrier. There'd also been times when she'd wanted to hear her own name being voiced by him rather than a pseudonym.
However, they were her rules, written down by her during a time when sex wasn't controlling her every thought. She may be sorry about them now, but in the long run she was better off with the restrictions, even if she wished for something else later.
Already she wanted him again. Thinking about him, her body prepared itself for his possession. Nipples tight, pussy pulsing as it became moist enough to ease his way…she was even breathing faster. Damn! It was like with one touch she'd become an addict to his particular brand of passion and couldn't go an hour without him.
Letting her eyelids fall, she pulled up a picture of him. He was tall, his dark brown hair cut short and light blue orbs surrounded by thick black lashes. When she looked at his lips, they'd seemed to be hovering near a smile or close to it. Easy laughter, she liked that in a man.
There was bound to be something really bad about him, he couldn't possibly be everything she wanted. At almost thirty, she'd given up hope of finding a man she would be happy to call her own. One she loved, respected, and wanted to spend time with. Who had the ability to satisfy all her desires, not just give her orgasms. He had to be able to give her space to make a stamp on the world with her passion for creating jewelry.
Before she dropped off, dreaming of her Master for the night, she opened her eyes and looked out the window to see if she knew where they were. She recognized the area, a few blocks away from home. Unzipping her bag, she dug through the clothes until she found her wallet and pulled out a ten-pound note, then palmed her house keys.
Although she'd showered at the club before changing her clothes, Gabby thought it would be a good idea if she took a hot bath with some black pepper oil in it to help sooth her pussy. The tender flesh had definitely overdosed on fucking tonight and needed help in recovering. Come to think of it, so did her ass. She'd been gently whipped with what she felt sure was a crop, spanked with his bare palms, as well as squeezed and manhandled by his big hands.
Yes, she definitely wanted to go back for seconds with him.
The black cab turned off Cromwell Road, then drove under the solid stone arch and onto the old cobbled road. About halfway down the enclosed block, he pulled to a stop in front of Number Twelve, her home. "Eight pound sixty, love." Getting up, she moved forward through the roomy interior and pushed the note through the window that separated the driver from her. The locks popped, she opened the door, and carefully made the big step down onto the cobblestones. "Thank you," she called out, then shut the heavy door. The cool morning air felt good against her flushed cheeks. She walked the few steps over the stones until she stood on the flat surface of her front stoop. Because she knew it would be late when she returned, she'd turned the outside light on before leaving for Succulent. Using her key, she unlocked the door and stepped into a tiled entrance hall, listening to the rumbling of the engine as the cab pulled away. Despite the dark, she worked quickly. Closing the door behind her, she took a few steps over to the wall and tapped in the security code to turn off the alarm. A sigh of comfort slipped out, she was home. This was her world and it suited her perfectly. Everything important to her was under this one roof. Home and business were here, and both satisfied her need to be self-sufficient. Gabby was proud of all she'd accomplished. Everything she'd done and experienced, good or bad, had melded and made her the person she was today, so she wouldn't change anything.
She worked hard to be the person in control of her own destiny, and didn't like relying on others as she did when she was young. Her parents were good people who loved each other dearly. Before her seventh birthday, her father fell ill with cancer. Because her mother couldn't handle taking care of him and her, she was sent to live with relatives and never returned home again.
Shuffled around, she'd learned to rely only on herself for what she wanted. She made her way through University happily studying fine arts while working. After four years she left with a degree and a nest egg instead of debt. When she hadn't been studying, she'd worked both retail and bartending at a pub, all the while in the back of her mind she was formulating a plan.
She took off her coat and hung it on the rack before turning around to look at her home. There was no desire to hold back the smile of accomplishment and contentment.
Making her way up the twisting staircase, she didn't stop until the third floor, and walked straight into her bedroom. She sat on the edge of her bed and fell back. This was what being completely satisfied felt like. Slipping off her pumps, she waggled her toes and mentally sent a note of thanks to the club owners. They thought of everything, including having someone available to help members undress if they needed to make a conspicuous exit, and her boots had definitely required help.
If she didn't get up now, she just might fall asleep here, and yet knew she should take that black pepper oil bath. Before she lost the rest of her energy, she sat up, unbuttoned and pulled her dress up over her head, then dropped it to the floor to pool around her shoes. Walking into the bathroom, she took out her black contacts, revealing golden brown orbs staring back at her with fulfillment and exhaustion. Working on autopilot, she turned around and started the water running, then dug through the medicine cabinet for the right essential oil bottle. After putting fifteen drops into the steaming hot water, she set the container down on the counter.
Stepping in, she inhaled deeply and quickly counted to ten to help ease the burning feeling. It didn't feel so hot after twenty, so she held her breath and lowered herself in. After a few more minutes, she turned the water off and leaned back.
Perfect, she could feel the heat of the water and pepper working to ease her body before soreness could settle in. Yes, this was exactly what she needed.
Lying back, she closed her eyes and, on a sigh, let her mind drift unchecked.
It was no surprise the wheel stopped on the side of her life that was going like gangbusters. This also happened to be the main reason she used a pseudonym at the club. She designed and sold jewelry under her own name, Gabrielle Porter. The business was her baby, and after years of hard work it was all starting to pay off. There were two major retail stores who carried various set items from her Shore and Astrologique lines, a couple of specialty shops, and dozens of private commission works, including creating pieces for two major American designers fashion shows, and advertising campaigns.
Then there was Monday. It was going to be a really big day, and the reason why she went to the club. Although she was prepared, she'd needed an outlet for her excess stress. In a couple of days she would attend a meeting with a group of directors from the Victoria & Albert Museum. They wanted to discuss the possibility of including a few of her commissioned pieces in a show they were organizing.
This was a big honor, one she'd never even thought about happening, much less in her lifetime.
Her professional achievements were leapfrogging over each other, and she couldn't keep up with it all. Actually she could, and wouldn't begrudge herself any of the excitement that came with it, although she did wish her personal life was going half as well. There'd been a few guys she'd dated, one she thought might be the one, only it hadn't worked out.
She hadn't
yet met a man that was everything she wanted wrapped up in one tempting morsel. When she'd first moved to London full-time, her gal gang had all gone out, and she'd mentioned the lack of guys that suited her needs. By the end of the night one of her friends had taken her aside and mentioned another avenue she could try. The next weekend Sara had taken her as a guest to Succulent. She'd been given a tour, had the privacy policy explained in detail, and went home with an application for membership clutched in her hand. It hadn't taken her long to decide what she wanted, and has been a member for a couple of years.
She didn't see anything wrong with handing over control of her pleasure to another person but none of the men in her life agreed. Gabby had experimented with a couple of dommes at the club, but early on it became clear men were her preference. There was something about being on her knees before a man, with his cock in her mouth, seeming as if he was the one in the position of power when really it was she who was in command.
Before she fell asleep in the tub, she stepped out and dried off. The bath left her feeling refreshed and soothed, with some spots still tender but not sore. The marble floor felt cool beneath her warm feet, so she moved quickly to the rug in front of the sink. Washing her face, she then started smoothing on some moisturizer and couldn't help but notice how, despite being tired, she almost glowing with pleasure.
Gabby was sure it was from having had some seriously good sex.
Double checking that the alarm was set, she slipped under the duvet and let her nude body heat up the cool sheet. She stretched out her legs, pointed her toes, and then curled up on her side. Facing the window, she looked through the sheer curtains and could see the sky was starting to lighten up. A few hours of sleep would do her a world of good.
Her last coherent thought as she slipped into sleep was of the man who'd so perfectly mastered her passions. Maybe he'd be there again tonight.
* * * * "The grey water reclamation system we're using for Succulent's climate control has been up and running for three months. It appears to be working well. I think we should extend it to include the dance club next door."
"Good. I'll work up the plans and get the application started. If you copy the bills for the past quarter and get an estimate for the one we're in, I'll use them with a few other things to bring high level support on our side before approaching the board for approval. Last time they weren't keen on granting permission, despite having the letter of support from the Secretary of State for the Environment and the Mayor's office for the project." Max took a drink of his pint and looked around at the crowd. It was Saturday, a busy night at the club, but nobody took his fancy. He and Alex sat at the table they had last night and were having the meeting they'd started, but never finished. "Do you foresee any problems?" "In the past two years it looks like they haven't learned anything about encouraging developers to work in options that will limit the building's impact on the environment. We received an approval on the one side of the building and are merely going to bring the entire structure under the same type of water reclamation, treatment, and reuse method. Although, I expect a few egos will be bruised by having some big guns behind us."
"Are they any better up in Yorkshire? Or as demanding and bureaucratic as they are down here?"
"Actually they are slightly easier to work with. It isn't a huge difference, but I'm finding up north they're more open to at least looking into the concepts of recycling and reusing before making a judgment. And, if given enough time, we can usually show them the benefits in numbers they understand."
"Yeah, after spending time with you and your workmates, I know what the problem is, and it isn't costs. Nope, it's much simpler than that. When on point environmental consultants can talk for hours about what should be done but aren't very good about putting into layman's terms." After he finished speaking, Alex picked up his drink and polished it off before setting the glass back on the table.
"I guess we do get caught up in the details. We can go on about various scenarios and their outcome, and can forget about spending time on clearly explaining viable solutions that makes sense to people outside of the field." This had always bothered Max, how he and his colleagues allowed the reactionaries to get a foothold and continue spreading their fears far and wide.
"You went to University and studied it for years, have a Ph.D. in environmental sciences, so you know it like the back of your hand. I think the problem is the activists who are shouting about the horrors facing us. They've passed over the everyday person who's just coming to terms with the impact people are having with their actions. Shit, there are still people who don't even see a problem with our wasteful ways or how it's affecting the planet. Give the non-initiated a chance to catch up, the idiots will just have to play catch-up later."
"You didn't study it, but know all about renovating a structure as close to having a zero footprint as is currently possible."
"Ahhh, but my secret weapon is having spent years listening to you. You want another?" Max laughed at himself and nodded. "I'll get the next round." Alex picked up both empties
and walked over to the bar. Picking up the beer mat, he started to fiddle with it. The show of nerves was new for him, maybe not so much anxiety as excess energy.
When he was up north in York he spent more time outdoors, working off whatever was on his mind. His home was within the city walls, which made it easy to walk into the offices, but also close to the Moors for biking and rambling. Not far away was a train station for when he needed to travel further afield, and a car in the garage as a last option. Max didn't see himself as an activist, although he did feel it was important to do what he could to ensure his personal carbon footprint was manageable. It wouldn't look good for his company if he didn't. He and his partner, Alex Granger, ran a company that offered businesses and various levels of government help in rethinking their approach to environmental issues.
They'd recently hired a couple more consultants to handle the workload while Max spent time down south. In the past five years, Keeping Green had been more in demand down south, mainly London, so they'd discussed opening an office. They already had an apartment centrally located in Westminster for working with various departments, and had jumped at the chance to buy the building when the owner decided to make a profit on his investment and sell. Lucky for them the structure was already zoned for residential and offices, so they bought it and were in the midst of renovating it to suit their needs and requirements when the call they never expected came in.
The office of the newly appointed Prime Minister had phoned Keeping Green to set up a series of meetings so the leader could have a better handle on where Britain stood environmentally in regards to the future. Of course they'd accepted, the timing couldn't have been better. With the office finished on the ground floor and the original apartment all within a fifteen-minute walk of 10 Downing Street, Max could only have been more pleased if there'd been a larger garden.
Looking up toward the door, then around the room, he sighed and flipped the mat to the side. No, if he was honest with himself, then he knew exactly what was going on. Actually, it was more like who was working him up. Her. Obviously one night had not been enough for him.
His friend returned to their table and he couldn't hold back the question he'd wanted to ask since he'd first come in. "So, have you seen Cassandra?" "No, she isn't a regular, remember?" Alex said to Max as he handed him another pint. He sat back down and took a drink before speaking. "I assume you're asking means you thought she was as delicious as I told you she was."
"And then some." Swallowing some of the cool lager, he couldn't help but feel disappointed. He wasn't sure why, but last night when he woke up alone in the room he'd shared with her, he'd had a feeling she'd want to see him again. It wasn't ego that made him feel this, but his memory of their time together. At one point she'd curled around his body and relaxed. This was when he'd let his guard down enough to fall asleep, sure she'd be there when he woke. Only she hadn't been, and he couldn't stop his gaze
from constantly tracking the room and checking out the doorway to see if she entered. He wanted to have her beneath him again, and again. "Don't ask." Because his attention had been diverted, he was confused by what his friend said. Looking over at him, Max took in the seriousness on his friend's face and still couldn't guess what he was talking about. "Sorry?" "Please don't ask me to give you her details." "Really?" "I remember her first visit, walked her through the process myself, and have the utmost respect for her request of anonymity. Truthfully, I don't agree with her stance. There have been some opportunities where she could have opened herself up and made more of her time here than to be screwed, but it's her choice." "Cassandra isn't her real name, is it?" "Max, don't start trying to get details from me. If she
wants more, she'll come and seek you out." "I can go into the office and look for myself." He knew he was being an asshole, but couldn't stop his pettiness from seeping out. He wasn't used to being denied something he wanted. There was no doubt about him wanting to see her again, only without all the rules she'd attached to the first time. "You can, but you won't." "Are you sure?" "Absolutely. I know you better than anyone else. We've grown up together, built up this club together, and I trust you implicitly. You're just horny and angry." "I'm just so bloody frustrated." "She really got to you." "Right under my skin. Okay, since you know both of
us, what is it about her that's hooked me in?" "Well, I don't know her as well as I do you, but I can make a couple of guesses. Physically she is your wet dream. You like them small, curvy, and busty," he offered with a grin, then swallowed a bit more beer before finishing his assessment. "Then there's the fact she loves to have sex and the way she throws herself into submitting is sexy. I honestly think she wants more of it than she's actually getting, but her rules hold her back."
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