by Violet Blue
Perhaps because we’re strangers tonight, the sight of his back facing me suddenly turns me on as if we had just started dating. Here is a man who is available for me, to claim with my body, although he doesn’t know it yet. I walk into the bar and wait for him to sidle up beside me. I cross my legs and the thong sets my clit on fire once again. I can feel juice swishing between my lower lips.
“Excuse me,” a deep voice says in my ear. I stiffen at once. But it’s not him. “Let me buy you a drink,” says the stranger, and when I turn to look for my handsome boyfriend he’s still talking to someone else. A girl, as it so happens, which was not part of the plan. I suck an olive off the skewer in my martini glass and look into the stranger’s gleaming orbs.
“Yes,” I say, and accept another martini. Just shifting on my stool to face the newcomer kindles sweet agony. I’m afraid I’ll have an orgasm right there on the chair and collapse into the unknown man’s arms. My boyfriend had better hurry.
“So what do you do?” asks the man. He has a soft voice and clean nails, but feminine hands. Long thin fingers that look like pale fish. I think, traitorously, of one of those skinny clammy fingers flopping around inside me. The image is both delicious and off-putting.
“I…I’m a dancer,” I say, because I know that this impresses men. He nods and takes a sip of his beer.
“I’m in the arts too,” he nods. “A journalist.”
Ooh.
“Arianna,” I say, with a smile. Out of the corner of my eye I see Adam at last turn away from the swingy-haired brunette he was talking to. Our eyes meet and his widen before I cut my glance back to my companion.
“Jared,” he says.
“Jared,” I parrot, with another big sip of martini. Gosh, these drinks are strong. But it’s not just the gin vision: Jared is attractive, in a feminine, slightly mysterious way. Unlike beautiful Adam, who has a cleft chin and a wide back, thick eyebrows and a deep chest.
Jared’s body is probably smooth and pale. The thought arouses nothing more than my curiosity. The bud of my clit flares in thick blooms of blood, and for a moment I picture myself with Jared. What would we look like together? Would he push my legs apart with his narrow hands, like Adam does so easily with his stronger ones? Would he pin me beneath the heavy weight of his body, cross my legs around his muscular back? Lean over me, own me with his eyes?
I imagine he’d be a little more shy.
But why am I thinking about sex with another man right now? I try to focus. I’m annoyed at myself. Again, I catch Adam’s eye over Jared’s shoulder. His gaze is furious. It’s a gaze I barely recognize. I didn’t think he would mind, I tell myself. But I’ve never tried to make him jealous by flirting before.
Jared smiles at me, a smile full of male optimism. “So, are you from around here?” He toys with the lip of his beer bottle while I think.
“Nearby. But I’m staying in the hotel,” I say, and eat another olive. My stomach feels warm, as does my lower body. I’m so hot I want to take off my dress. “You?”
“Far away. I’m just in town for the weekend.” Our eyes meet, almost against my will, and without meaning to I realize we’ve just shared an understanding. Jared smiles, a warm sexy smile that brings out the light in his long, oval face.
“Excuse me,” says a tight voice over Jared’s shoulder. I turn into Adam’s glacial stare. His lips are tight. His jaw seems to pulse. I have never seen him look this angry, and for a moment I’m afraid of what he’ll do. “There’s a call for you at the front desk.”
“Oh.” I cast Jared an apologetic look and before I can go, he reaches into his pocket and takes out a small rectangle. He flips it over, takes a pen from his pocket and writes something on the back.
“Call me if you’re free while you’re here,” he says, and gives me that light lazy smile again. I feel angry heat rising off Adam’s skin, and I’ve barely followed him out of the bar when he grabs my wrist in a grip so tight I’m worried I’ll have bruises. He pulls us both into the employee bathroom and locks the door. I glance at the gold wallpaper and marble sink. It’s a single stall. Is he going to kill me?
“Adam—” Before I can finish he lifts me and puts me down over the sink. Without meeting my eyes he flips up my black skirt. I don’t know what’s going through his mind. I look down on his suddenly unfamiliar head—covered in thick dark hair that I want to grab in my fists—as he stares at the sight in front of him. My nearly bare crotch, shiny lower lips bisected by two perfect strands of white pearls. He pushes the strands of pearls apart and rakes a rough finger between my lips. I shudder with pleasure and then realize what he must be thinking.
“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” I whisper, so he knows this is for him, it has nothing to do with Jared. But he doesn’t even glance up.
“Good,” he grunts. With his warm, dry palms he pushes my legs so far apart I’m afraid my hips will be sore tomorrow. He cups my ass in his hands, lifts it toward him and pushes his hard, thick cock into me.
“Oh, oh, oh,” I gasp as his cock wiggles deeper and deeper, as if it has a mind of its own. From this angle it feels huge and thick, and my inner organs shift.
He wedges his cock all the way inside me and finally looks into my eyes. There’s rage and lust boiling in that familiar gaze. An electric current rushes through me and my pussy clutches at his wide cock.
“Good,” he says, and punctuates the word with a hard thrust that pushes me back against the sink. It feels so good I can’t think or answer. I lean back as he moves in and out of me, punctuating his thrusts with groans or the occasional “Yes.” Does he want to fuck the memory of tonight out of me?
We keep going, keeping up the awkward urgent rhythm. We’ve never done anything like this before, and I can’t tell if he loves it as much as I do. In, out, back, forward; I’ll have bruises from the faucet tomorrow but I don’t care.
“Yeah,” I urge him on, and he moves and I move forward against him and with a final shove I’m up against him and he lodges his cock all the way within me. My entire vagina becomes liquid. My expectant clit flares and throbs and I grab the faucet behind me for support as my legs and knees grow weak. “Oh, oh,” I whisper, pulsing against him. A few moments later his hot come bubbles into me.
The sweat on my body cools. The haze before me clears and I realize where we are: in a bathroom at a hotel. I haven’t even taken off my dress; he’s still wearing his shirt. The front tails flap around his shrinking penis.
“Oh, my god,” I mutter, climbing shakily off the sink. He grabs my elbow and starts laughing when I almost fall. The sound bubbles in the air, reminds me that he and I are still here, still the people we knew.
“Adam, are you—?” I ask suddenly, looking up at him, fear lancing through my veins. He’s grinning like he just won the lottery.
“No, no,” he dismisses my worry and pulls me against him for a long kiss. He tastes like alcohol. I love it. I lick the flavor off him.
“You’re not mad?” I ask, when he lets me go. “No?”
“Naw,” he says, shaking his head, and his funny grin doesn’t budge.
“Was it an act?” I want to know.
“Yeah, yeah,” he nods. But this time I catch a flicker of doubt in his eyes. Was he jealous or not? The thought that he might have been is a tiny delicious tingle in my stomach. It mixes with the afterglow of my orgasm and together we go out into the lobby again.
UNDERWEAR
Kay Jaybee
Straightening the black thigh-length skirt and matching jacket over her pristine white blouse, Leah checked her reflection one last time.
Finally satisfied with her look, Leah gathered her long chestnut hair into a neat ponytail, slipped her pumps onto her stocking-clad feet, grabbed the holdall that held a stack of catalogs advertising the cosmetics and underwear she sold and the items of lingerie her clients had ordered the week before, and headed out to work.
Smiling privately to herself, Leah knew the new underwear she wore bene
ath her suit was flattering her curvaceous figure, and she felt sexy and confident as she drove toward her target area, her mind lingering on one client more than the others.
Two hours, three sales and several positive enquiries later, Leah felt her pulse rate rise as she knocked on the door of his small terraced house. The door was opened almost the second she rang the bell.
“Good morning Mr. Richards, I have the underwear you ordered.”
“You’d better come in.” Leah walked into the narrow hallway and on into the living room, where she had spent a pleasantly flirtatious half an hour the week before.
He followed her, his alert blue eyes appraising her round figure; his tall frame towering over her as she sat on the edge of the sofa, the holdall on her knee already unclipped as she searched through its contents for his order.
“Here you go, Mr. Richards.” Leah placed the see-through plastic bag on the coffee table. “One set of 36C/14 bra and knickers, crimson lace, with matching suspender belt and black stockings as per your request.”
“Sam.” His eyes twinkled as he spoke.
“Sam?”
“My name is Sam.” He perched next to her. “Mr. Richards sounds a bit formal, don’t you think?”
Inclining her head a fraction, but keeping her eyes lowered over her products, she replied, “I’m Leah.” She could feel his eyes boring into her, and the tension in the room was pleasantly palpable as she fished her account book from her bag. “How would you like to pay?”
“Cash.” He produced a battered wallet from his back pocket. “But first I’d like to make sure they fit.”
All week Leah had indulged in the ridiculously unrealistic fantasy that this man was single, and that the underwear was for his sister or a friend. Feeling let down by her own flights of fancy, she said as lightly as she could, “Oh, is your girlfriend here, then?”
“No, she isn’t, but you’re about her size.”
Leah laughed. “That’s a bit cliché isn’t it?”
“Maybe, but I’d still like to see you in it.” He sounded serious, and as Leah risked a look at him, she could see he meant it.
“You have a girlfriend.” Leah spoke with a finality she knew she didn’t feel.
“Yes, I do.” He reached a hand out and picked up the lingerie set. “But I still want to see you in this first.”
“If I was your girlfriend, I wouldn’t want you to give me preworn underwear.”
“Lucky you’re not my girlfriend then, isn’t it?”
Leah’s hand hesitated over her bag. She had no doubt he was serious, and she had even fewer doubts that her body was already reacting to the closeness of his presence, but that didn’t make the fact of his girlfriend’s existence disappear.
As if reading her mind, he said, “If I’d lied and said I hadn’t got a girlfriend, would you be trying the undies on by now?”
Raising her gaze to meet his, Leah spoke with a defiant edge: “That’s not the point. The fact is, you do have one; why else would you buy this stuff. It isn’t exactly the sort of thing you’d buy your mother is it?”
“True.” Sam stood back up. “It is also true that, spoken for or not, I haven’t stopped thinking about you since last time you were here, and I’ve told my partner all about you.”
Leah’s stomach began to turn cartwheels as she forced herself to hold his stare, trying to ignore the feeling that she’d stumbled out of her depth. “You told her what exactly?”
He took another step nearer. “That I’d met a beautiful doorto-door lingerie seller, who I’d like to fuck.”
Leah’s calm exterior broke instantly at his confession. “You told your girlfriend that?”
“It surprises you that she’d rather I told her about encountering women I fancy, rather than keeping it quiet?”
The corners of Leah’s mouth begin to curve as she struggled not to smile in incredulous disbelief. “Your honesty is indeed surprising.” Closing her bag, Leah stood up. “I should go.”
Trying not to inhale the delicious aroma of aftershave and sheer maleness that emanated from his creased shirt, Leah was forced to physically shove past Sam to reach the hallway, making her more aware of his height and bulk than ever before. She’d just reached the door when he said, “I haven’t paid you yet.”
Leah knew that if she was going to hold on to her principles, she had to leave now. “There’s an address on the bill, you can mail me a check.”
“Sarah will be so disappointed.”
Something about his tone made Leah turn to face him. “Disappointed, why? You have her gift.”
“No, I don’t.”
Her hand seemed to have frozen to the doorknob. Leah could feel her nipples hardening beneath her underwear; underwear that she knew was an exact match for the packet of lingerie Sam still held in his hand.
With a dry mouth, Leah stood there, statuelike. In two strides Sam was right next to her, close enough for her to feel his breath on her flesh.
Pushing her free hand into her jacket pocket and gripping the handle of her bag tightly with the other so that she couldn’t reach out and pull his shirt from his jeans as she longed to, Leah said, “Explain.”
“She wanted me to have you and then tell her all about it.”
“What?”
Sam put a hand on her shoulder, and immediately Leah felt a treacherous rush of heat flow through her.
“She gets off on it, and naturally, so do I.”
Attempting to deflect her concentration away from the pressure of his palm, Leah spoke with far more defiance than she felt. “And how do I know that you’re not just saying that so you can get your leg over?”
“You don’t.” He stroked a finger across her cheek, sending tiny shock waves through her nervous system, “But I know you want to find out.”
“You’re an arrogant git aren’t you?”
Sam smiled. “Yeah, I am, and I still want to see you in that underwear.”
Leah leveled her eyes firmly into his. If she was going to do this, she was going to do it on her terms, not his, “If I do this, I’m not coming back here again. Not ever.”
His eyes blazed with a swift flash of victory, but wisely he said nothing, merely nodding his head.
Throwing her shoulders back, Leah walked back to the living room, ignoring the voice at the back of her head telling her to get the hell out of there and listening only to her body, which wanted her client’s cock inside her as soon as possible, girlfriend or no girlfriend.
Determined to rob Sam of his assumed control, Leah thumped her bag onto the coffee table, and with her heart beating fast, and her hands on her hips, said, “Right, stay exactly where you are. Do not move.”
Sam looked more amused than put out and obediently stayed in the doorway between the hall and the living room.
“If you want to see me in that underwear, then you can.”
Dropping her jacket to the ground, Leah maintained eye contact with Sam. If she looked away she was afraid that her courage would fail her, or worse, she’d start to think about what she was actually doing. Placing a hand on either side of her skirt, she eased it to the floor, giving her solo audience the first indication that she was already attired as per his wishes.
Sam’s arms dropped to his sides as he watched her, and he leaned more heavily against the door frame. Encouraged by the hunger in his eyes, Leah moved her attention to the small pearl buttons of her shirt. As she undid the top fastening, Sam gave an audible gasp, which made Leah speed up, and soon her top joined the clothes on the floor.
The voice at the back of her head was shouting now, telling her how important it was to keep control, to make him wait. Tilting up her chin, Leah said, “So, what do you think of the underwear?”
“Gorgeous.” Sam lurched forward, so that they stood either side of the coffee table. “I knew it would look better on you than in a lifeless packet.”
Leah moved her hands so that her fingers could trace the lacy outline of her bra. “It certainl
y feels good to wear.”
Sam almost whispered, “Are you the same size as Sarah then? I hoped you were.”
“It would appear I am.” Leah took one hand from her chest and placed a single digit inside the top of her panties and ran it over the belly beneath. “The question is, what do you look like in your underwear?”
Sam’s jeans were off so quickly that Leah had to struggle not to giggle at his eagerness and shatter the whole “in control” illusion she’d been building up. Observing him closely as crisp black boxers appeared from beneath his trousers, and his shirt hit the table, she felt her crotch twitch with erotic anticipation.
His underwear was smart, designer with three little buttons at the fly, and more importantly, a telling bulge beneath. “Nice.”
“Thanks.”
Neither of them moved, the table acting as a barrier between them.
Leah licked her lips as the tension in the room continued to rise. “Your girlfriend must be a very unusual woman.”
“Sarah is one of a kind. I’m very lucky.”
“And you really are going to tell her how you fucked me?”
“Exactly how…” Sam knocked the holdall and new underwear from the table, sending them flying toward the hall, and knelt on the unyielding wood, reaching his hands out to Leah’s chest. “Action for action, groan for groan, climax for climax.”
With a massive effort of will, Leah took hold of his wrists and lifted his palms from her breasts, stifling the whine of loss she felt when the removal of his exploring fingers left her feeling dangerously neglected.
“And how will she feel when you report that rather than you take me…” Picking up his shirt, Leah twisted it into a long sausage shape and moved to the other side of the table. “…I took you?”
Deftly positioning her client’s unresisting arms behind his back and tying his shirt around his wrists, Leah instructed him to stand.
Sam, a sly grin on his face, said nothing, but simply waited, curious to see what the saleswoman planned to do next.
“Sit on the edge of the table.” Leah stood between his outstretched legs, glancing at the cock that was evidently stiffening further beneath his shorts.