Sex Idol

by Shelley Munro

  Antonio pulled a face and folded his arms across his chest. “I don’t think so. I’m not letting any specialist near my dick and balls. The hair stays. Besides, I don’t want to be part of the flock. I’m not a sheep.” He quirked one dark brow in a teasing manner and winked as if inviting her to share the joke. “Don’t you think a point of difference would score points with the audience?”

  Sasha gaze wandered down to the topic in discussion. “Not that point of difference. I suggest a tattoo or the body paint or dye that some of the contestants are experimenting with or an interesting hair style.” She snorted at his furrowed brow. “You men are all the same. Babies the lot of you.”

  “I’ve managed so far without waxing.”

  “But you have won no major contests this season.”

  Antonio glared at her before dipping his head in a sharp nod. “It will be done.”

  “Excellent. I’ll see you and Bridget on Saturday morning. Bridget should be able to train by then.”

  Antonio bent to retrieve his jeans, and Sasha couldn’t help but ogle his butt. She swallowed yet another groan while her fingers cramped with the urge to grab a handful. Grief, if she didn’t unclench, she’d end up with hand paralysis from lack of blood circulation.

  With graceful moves, he stepped into the briefs and jeans, then tugged his T-shirt over his head. “I’m heading straight home so I’ll wash there.”

  Sasha felt like a mouse trapped by a cat. She couldn’t move. Thinking was difficult. Heck, she could barely function as Antonio closed the distance between them.

  “Thank you, Sasha.” He hugged her. His fingers tangled in her hair and his mouth brushed her temple, her cheek, her lips. Sasha’s entire system went haywire. Her breathing hitched. Her temperature spiked. Her legs wobbled.

  Then, she was free again.

  She stared at him with wide eyes. They’d never kissed—not on the lips. It was too intimate, too personal, and there was the danger of catching the smooching virus. Scientists had taken time to isolate the exact cause of the virus. They’d discovered chemicals used to make artificial food reacted with the germs present in the mouth and throat of some people. This made the affected area swell, nodules to burst out on the face and sometimes death when breathing became restricted. As a result, people didn’t kiss. They received vaccinations these days, but it was still possible to catch a milder case of the virus. Sasha didn’t care, not if she could have more intimate contact like that. Her numb fingers pressed against lips still burning from his caress.

  Antonio grinned and strode to the door. “Catch ya Saturday, Sasha.” He lifted a hand in farewell and departed.

  Sasha continued to stare at the open doorway long after he’d disappeared. Finally, she moved, muttering a succinct curse. Too late for her to renege on her promise to train him now.

  Chapter Three

  Antonio pulled his hover vehicle up outside Sasha’s school on Elliot and switched off the ignition. A decent neighborhood. Old, but full of shabby warehouses converted to homes and businesses. Kids playing in the fenced playground, a guard on duty at the gate. An actual tree grew at the far end of the street, its branches devoid of leaves at present. He liked it better than the tranquil hologardens that filled the chic areas of the prosperous California city where his parents lived. The numerous fires in 2030 had stamped the landscape with immutable change and Arnie City—a commuter city for the San Francisco area—had risen from the ashes.

  Realizing he was stalling, he turned to Bridget. “Thanks for coming today.”

  Bridget flicked her long red hair over one shoulder. “No problem. I’m not stupid enough to turn down free training with Sasha Greenacre. She doesn’t take on many older students.”

  “You won’t let it slip we’re not working together as partners anymore?”

  “I’ve already promised, haven’t I?” Her chin lifted in a belligerent manner while her blue eyes flashed with a hint of Irish temper.

  Antonio knew better than to push harder, but so much rode on the training sessions going well.

  His career.

  His future.

  He forced a cocky grin, not wanting Bridget to guess his plan. “Let’s go, then.”

  Minutes later, they entered the old warehouse and climbed the creaky stairs that led to Sasha’s classroom. When they turned the corner at the end of the corridor, Antonio saw the door stood open. They stepped inside. Rock music poured from concealed speakers, a male singing about spending six months in a leaky boat.

  “Ah good. You’re here,” Sasha said in a cool tone. She removed a pair of tortoise shell-framed glasses, placed them on her desk and acknowledged Bridget with a brief smile. “Ready to start?”

  She had the Sex Idol rules in front of her again. He gestured to Bridget with a tip of his chin to disrobe and did the same himself. Sasha never used to wear glasses. They looked good. Like a staid librarian with hidden facets he’d like to explore. Hmm, he might enjoy a sexual role-play with Sasha as a librarian. She’d always excelled at role-plays.

  “I thought we’d go over three categories today and mix it up a little. There’s a box of toys over there. You can use whatever you’d like. We’ll keep the positions traditional, none of the acrobatic stuff today, and since there’s three of us we’ll try multi partners later.”

  Antonio’s cock tightened the second he heard Sasha’s words. It wasn’t the fact there would be three of them naked together or the thought of the male-female ratio. It was purely Sasha. He yearned to run his hands across her smooth, perfumed skin. To stroke her hair and sink his nose into the curly tresses to learn if she smelled the same as his recollection. He pined for her touch, her nimble fingers and mouth. He hungered for what they’d once had together. Like a thirsty man in the middle of an arid desert, Antonio craved with a passion. At first, he’d thought he could have the same with any capable partner. Not true. Although he and Bridget looked good together, there was no spark. No magic.

  He intended to reclaim that enchantment with Sasha.

  “Can we have music today?” he asked.

  “I’ll put on something suitable while you and Bridget get started.” She left the room to arrange the music.

  “Toys.” Bridget displayed enthusiasm for the first time. “I hope she’s got nipple clamps. You never give me enough stimulation there. Clamps make me hot.” She pawed through the box and shrieked with delight on discovering a pair decorated with dazzling blue stones. Next, she pulled out a butt plug.

  “Better get lubricant,” Antonio said when he saw the size. “I presume you want the plug?”

  Bridget grunted. “Yeah. It’s the only way I can climax with you.”

  Antonio bit back a sharp retort. He didn’t want to fire Bridget’s fierce temper or else he’d land in trouble, but he’d have liked to point out that a successful couple meant two people working together. None of this me stuff. She didn’t go out of her way to do any team building.

  She handed him a bottle of lubricant, one of the latest designer brands that intensified arousal, and he placed it in easy reach, ready for the start of their routine.

  Sasha exited the utility room as the music resumed. It was an instrumental track, slow and mellow, perfect for warm-up.

  “I don’t like the music much,” Bridget muttered as she flung the last of her clothes in a heap on the floor. “We might as well start the routine with you putting these on for me.”

  Once again, Antonio bit his tongue and prayed his plan to get Sasha to partner him again would come to fruition. “All right. How about going through the routine we won with at the California State show?” At Bridget’s nod, he went into a twirl, pretended he wore his bull fighting regalia and snapped his imaginary cloak.

  Bridget let out a girlish shriek as if the cloak had flicked her bottom. She danced away from him but glanced over her shoulder, a flirtatious flutter of her lashes hinting he should act with boldness. Antonio swaggered after her, producing the nipple clamps in his outstretched palm. T
he blue stones caught the light, sparkling like tiny stars. Bridget’s eyes and mouth rounded and she danced up to Antonio, snatched a clamp and fastened it in place, tightening it until her nipple turned a deep rose pink.

  “Ohhh!” Bridget cooed, cupping her breasts and caressing the unclamped nipple.

  “Stop.” Sasha held up her hand to enforce the order. “What was that?”

  “Our act.” Bridget continued to stroke her breast as if it were a pet cat. Back and forth she drew her fingers, circling her taut nipple until a purr erupted. “It’s great, isn’t it?”

  “Well… It’s interesting—something to build on. Remember you have ten minutes to complete your act. While it’s not compulsory to climax, that’s what people want to see. You’ll get more votes if one or both of you experience orgasm. You can’t do that if you’re dancing around each other.”

  A tiny throb sprang to life at the side of Bridget’s mouth. Hell. Alarm surfaced and Antonio sought to head off the pending tantrum. He stepped up to her and deftly fastened the other clamp in place, tugging and drawing on her nipples in the way he knew she liked. Gradually, the tension in her face softened and her eyes drifted shut.

  Crisis averted. A sigh squeezed past his lips when he stared down at the creamy breasts and shadowed cleavage his hands stroked.

  They weren’t Sasha’s.

  He knew it with every particle of his body, and that was the problem.

  He wanted Sasha with a fierceness that wouldn’t let go. So he pretended and fantasized the woman he was with was Sasha. He’d been doing that ever since they’d gone their separate ways. Trouble was, he’d slipped during a performance one night and called Bridget Sasha. Now Bridget suspected his feelings for Sasha were personal and this gave the woman the power to derail his careful campaign if he didn’t handle her right.

  “Do you want us to carry on?” he asked.

  Sasha gave a clipped nod, leaned against her desk and folded her arms across her chest. She didn’t appear impressed, and something inside Antonio, a sense of pride, determination to gain her approval, made him rise to her silent challenge.

  Antonio traced his fingers across the upper slopes of Bridget’s breasts. The twin globes quivered beneath his hands.

  “Tighten the clamps,” Bridget instructed. “Hurt me.”

  He laid a trail of faux kisses across her face and down her neck, his lips skimming close enough to fool the audience into thinking they were being intimate. Antonio didn’t do lips. Except Sasha’s. Antonio forced the puzzling contradiction away to concentrate on Bridget and their act.

  Bridget moaned as he paid homage to her tits. “Yes, just like that. Hmmm, maybe a little harder.”

  Antonio pinched the clamps with his thumb and forefinger until her nipples darkened to deep red. Her body heated. A wave of chemical perfume assaulted him, sharp and heady. Overpowering. He fought his distaste and moved away from her cleavage, easing back the pressure on the clamps to slide his hands down her back and roughly palm her ass.

  “Oh yes,” Bridget crooned. “Nice. Perfect. Where’s the butt plug? Slide that baby inside me. Make me hot. Make me come, lover boy.”

  Antonio swallowed, aware with every particle of Sasha’s scrutiny, her critique. He tried to force his normal fantasy but had difficulty closing out reality when he could smell Sasha’s carnation scent and see the emotions flickering across her expressive face. But he was a professional.

  Just do it, lover boy.

  Antonio picked up the butt plug, did a little a swagger and a dance step in time to the music and grabbed the lubricant off a low wooden table where he’d left it. Couldn’t do without that, and he’d better hurry. The clock was ticking. Antonio slapped lube on the long, thick shape and led Bridget over to the nearest flat surface, a slat couch with a smooth, non-slip sheet top. He bent Bridget over so he could insert the plug. He ran his hands across her butt cheeks and leaned over to lick the length of her spine. His tongue left a damp trail visible under the fluorescent lights.

  Bridget panted, long and loud like a dog. Antonio wanted to laugh but manfully held it in. The audience loved Bridget’s sound effects, and he was gentleman enough to admit they scored points. But they sounded corny. Give him a natural and honest reaction every time.

  Antonio separated her butt cheeks, ran his finger down the crack between, and circled her pucker with a fingertip. A grunt exploded from Bridget and he rolled his eyes.

  He moved with careful precision, treating the training session as if they were at a competition. During a performance, every move would be captured on camera and beamed to the large overhead screens, allowing the audience to experience everything along with the couple onstage. Conscious of the clock ticking, he upped his pace.

  More lube. He squeezed the bottle, and it oozed out onto his fingertips. His thumb massaged, smearing the gel until Bridget howled, spreading her legs in demand. Antonio ignored her theatrics and continued, slowly working the plug inside her.

  Her cleft gleamed, juices oozing from her pussy as she accepted the plug inch by inch. She pushed back against his hand in a silent bid for him to tease her clit at the same time. Her skin was silky smooth and free of body hair. A single silver stud pierced the outer folds of her labia and it winked in the bright artificial light. It was a new addition, the flesh around the silver still inflamed.

  “Give me more,” she ordered. “Then finger-fuck me or give me your cock. Fill my pussy.”

  Antonio pushed the plug home then parted the plump, pink folds of her labia to expose her swollen bud to imaginary cameras. The small bundle of nerves quivered and glistened. Bridget whimpered when he traced the outside of her clitoris.

  “More,” she rasped. She crawled onto the flat couch and turned to face him, her face and eyes glowing with carnal desires.

  Her pleading demands should have made him hot, but Antonio felt nothing. She was pretty, had the beautiful, curvy shape he favored. Her breasts fitted his hands perfectly, but she didn’t turn him on. He glanced down at his dick. At half-mast, he’d still be able to do the job—he might even ejaculate, but he wouldn’t “get no satisfaction” as the old song went. Antonio gritted his teeth while he dithered about joining Bridget on the bed.

  He was a man completing a task.

  A professional.

  Yeah, he’d remember that and get the job done.

  Antonio joined her on the slat couch and slid down so his head was level with Bridget’s pussy. She cried out, running her hands through his hair, and encouraging him to stimulate her with his tongue and fingers. He stared at her pink vulva and the honey that coated her slit, admitting he felt nothing but emptiness.

  Sighing, he used his fingers to spread her pussy lips wide again. Antonio skimmed past the stud. Her clitoris was distended—it wouldn’t take much to push her over the edge into orgasm. Antonio manipulated her body, so she rested in the perfect position for his easy access. He pinched her pussy lips enough for her to gasp and the color of her skin change. Bridget reveled in the rough stuff.

  He skimmed his finger down her moist cleft and kept going until he skimmed the butt plug. Antonio pushed down on it at the same time as he licked the mouth of her sex.

  “Oh.” Bridget’s reply emerged thick and needy. “Do that again.”

  Clothing rustled behind him. Soft hands skimmed his shoulders. A warm body leaned against his back while hands crept to the front of his body to tease his flat nipples.

  Sasha.

  A jolt of pure lust shot straight to his cock while his heart raced. Sasha surrounded him, her warmth seeping into his back while her hands continued to explore the front of his body. They drifted low and teasingly close to his straining cock but never touched.

  For an instant, his brain froze before he recalled this was a rehearsal for the competition. His mind kicked into gear again. This might be the only time, the last time he was this close to Sasha. By hell, he would enjoy it.

  Absently, he stroked his thumb across Bridget’s cl
it. She was soaked, which was good since he was having trouble concentrating.

  Sasha had progressed to running her fingers the length of his dick. A groan built deep in his chest. Her fingers worked magic on the hairless skin surrounding his erect penis. The sensation was intense and powerful even though she used little pressure. It had hurt like hell having it done, but maybe there was something in this hairless thing.

  Bridget shot up on her hands and knees. She turned to push at Antonio’s chest, and when he’d moved in the direction she wanted—flat on his back—Bridget backed over his head and lowered her pussy over his mouth, blotting everything else from his sight.

  “Hurry,” Bridget demanded. “I want you to lick my clit. She can have the other end.”

  Great suggestion. Antonio trembled with hyperawareness and hoped like hell he could hold back long enough to enjoy more of Sasha’s torture. He wriggled to the middle of the couch. The cotton fabric covering the mattress stuck to his naked back, but it was a small annoyance.

  Bridget moved again, deciding to straddle the bench-type couch and stand so he was at the exact height to swipe his tongue across her swollen clitoris.

  Muffled footsteps indicated Sasha was at the other end of the couch. Antonio gripped Bridget’s upper thighs with his hands and tried to concentrate on pleasuring her instead of Sasha. No longer disinterested, his cock felt impossibly sensitive, ready to explode. As he battled for control, Antonio prayed he didn’t embarrass himself.

  Acute anticipation simmered through Sasha, and she fought the need to lick her lips. Heck, what was new? She’d had to buy a new lip salve to moisturize her mouth earlier in the day. Dry lips had turned into a problem the minute Antonio walked back into her life. It was just a teaching assignment. She shouldn’t feel this exhilaration at the thought of touching Antonio again or even be taking part. She never participated with other students. Never, because emotions could become involved.