She thought of tonight as a lark, and nothing more—just a few hours away from work and the serious business of being the initiate of a secret sex club. In her mind, there was nothing in the world that would change that.
The play was an exhilarating three hours of music and dancing that delighted them both. Mike held her hand through the entire performance, doing small things with his fingers that connected with her body hot spots for instants of unabashed pleasure. Her cunt was moist and throbbing by the end of the first act, and all the professional resolve and purpose, all the vows she gave so freely the night before seemed more threatened than ever.
“I know a bar nearby that’s great this time of night,” Mike said as the show ended and they were on their way from the first balcony to the lobby. “How about it? You don’t have to work tomorrow?”
“I always have to work, but maybe one drink wouldn’t hurt.”
She leaned her head against his shoulder wondering exactly what she was going to do with her affections for the man. It wasn’t just the club she had to consider. There was always a feeling of concern getting too entangled with a client, and even though they joked about it, the concern was nonetheless real.
The bar was an intimate, beer-drinking Irish pub with dozens of laughing faces, and games of darts and cards, and quiet ear-to-mouth conversations happening in every corner. Gillian drank a raspberry beer, finding three pints going down so easily she hardly realized what she’d done until her head began to float in the clouds, and her words seemed slurred even to her ears.
“I never should have done this,” she told her date.
“And why not? A woman like you needs a chance to let down, don’t you think?”
He’d matched her drink for drink, but the beer didn’t seem to have the same effect on him. Being the steady type, he’d pass out before he’d look the least bit smashed. His hand was on her ass, squeezing it as he had all night.
“You’re going to take advantage of me?” she wondered.
“Only if you ask,” he replied. He kissed her, wee ones on her lips, and then a trail of kisses along her cheek that finally ended with this lips burrowing ticklishly into the crook of her neck.
“Ooo, my,” she shivered erotically, “you have me at a disadvantage.”
“Oh, but I never take advantage of a drunken women,” he said.
“But you would screw one?”
“Perhaps, but only if she asked. Are you asking?”
She shook her head, no. “You do remember what I told you? No fucking on the first date?”
“Then we’ll have to try it on the second.” His hand was in her hair, his touch like little sparks against her scalp—ones that showered down to her toes and stopped in the middle igniting the embers glowing warmly there.
“I make no promises,” she managed to say.
He kissed her, this time on her mouth. “I’m not looking for promises, just for good times with a beautiful woman.”
“Well, then, you’d better take this beautiful woman home, because she’s withering fast.”
“Fast, perhaps, but you are an artistic drunk.”
She smiled, thinking she would be missing the most startling lovemaking of her life if she declined him at her door.
Mike Bellamy didn’t lay but a single hand on her the entire drive to her apartment. He hardly touched her on the way to her door, and when they stood at the threshold between saying good-bye and going to bed, he gave her no more encouragement except what was in his eyes.
“Why don’t you see me inside?” she finally suggested.
“And why would I want to do that?” he asked.
Any resolve she had was vanishing fast. She couldn’t let this much lust go. Her body was hot, her cunt waiting expectantly for his cock. Didn’t all first dates that went so well end in bed? Even if he was a client, even if she was on orders from that glorious club, even if it was just this once?
“Because I’d like you to sleep with me.”
He raised his eyebrows.
“Or maybe you don’t sleep with drunks?” she ventured.
“I thought you had other vows to keep?” he asked.
“Right now, they don’t mean much,” she said. “It almost feels as though this is predestined, and I think it’s stupid to fight it. Maybe we need to do it for our business relationship, not in spite of it.”
She felt his hand again as they moved inside the apartment. In the dark, there was just the feel of his skin against hers, the two throbbing together with the same desiring heat. So gentle, and so tender. His lips worked about her face, and hers followed. When he placed his hand over one breast, her hips moved into his. As he lowered the thin straps of her dress she felt it float to her feet. Every move stung sweetly between her bare thighs—the way he brushed his crotch against her pubis, the way it pressed back—the way his hand took the longer journey down her back, beyond the crack of her ass, to cup the soft fold of flesh at the base of her bottom—his favorite place to fondle. Writhing against him, she longed for his hands to probe between her legs, for him to find her clit, and pinch her labia and let his fingers slither inside her hole.
“How about the bedroom?” she whispered, almost afraid he would suddenly tell her no.
“How about the couch, or maybe a chair,” he answered back as they moved kissing toward the living room. Mike pushed her into the seat of an overstuffed chair and looked down on her beautiful nakedness. “Part your legs for me and lean back,” he told her. The wicked thought of the exhibition made her comply without a protest, and she could tell he enjoyed her lewd repose seeing a gentle smirk over-powering his handsome features. There was something in that smirk to fear, Gillian thought as she gazed upwards.
Mike removed his jacket, his tie and shirt. Dropping his pants, he uncovered his penis boldly framed by the blondish curls of his pubic hair. His body glistened from a soft layer of sweat. When he dropped to his knees in front of her, she felt his hand where she wanted it most, massaging her clit. Then bending down his mouth probed her jerking pussy. He dove right in, raising her hips in his hands, pulling her half off the chair while she clung to the sides with her fingernails driving into the arms as though she was holding on for dear life.
“Ah, ah yes,” she panted in short steamy breaths. “Yes, yes, yes,” hissing like an angry cat, she tried without success to lift herself against him, into his arms. By then, he was finished with foreplay, his cock hammering rudely on the door of her cunt. “Oh, my, yes, Mike, now!” she moaned while her hips thrashed back and forth so it was almost impossible for him to get his dick inside her.
When he did, he thrust straight to her womb, and while he grabbed her hips and drove hard, she hammered him back, letting screams of delight rise unedited into the late night air. “Fuck me hard! Fuck me, fuck me, yesssssss!”
He growled himself, that deep sonorous kind of manly growl.
They screwed together, locked tightly in a pounding rhythm for nearly ten minutes—until he shot hard at the back of her pussy. She whipped against him wildly until her orgasm made every nerve in her tighten and release and then tighten again.
When he pulled out of her, she was glad to lick the remains of his cum with her lips.
They had a bittersweet bargain with lust for just this night, and she’d do anything to make it last longer. Was this like Mardi Gras? The last fuck before her enforced abstinence? A reasonable random thought, perhaps, it came and went, putting a neat name on this spirited fuck that could never happen again. Of course, Mike Bellamy wouldn’t know that, and Gillian had no idea how she was going to tell him. He held her for a time as she rested her aching head against his chest.
“I hope there won’t be any bad blood between us because I made you break your vow,” he said as he pulled away from her. He sat for a time on the couch sipping a glass of water, seeing how lovely she looked curled up and exhausted in her chair.
“Vow? What vow?” she answered back.
“I also hope you h
ave more resolve as a lawyer not to get caught this easily in court.”
She smiled, her mind beginning to sober, even with her headache. “I’m much better in court than in my love life,” she finally admitted. “And since this won’t be happening again …”
Again he was raising his eyebrows like he didn’t believe her and he smiled like the devil was living in his back pocket.
“That vow’s got to stick,” she assured him. “I have a hell of a problem to solve for you, and I’m not going to have you distracting me, as much as I want you, Mike Bellamy. Maybe afterwards.”
“Then what was the point of tonight, Ms. Brahms?” Mike asked, sounding as if he was offended.
“Lust. There was too much lust. Until you and I fucked I’m not sure if we could have worked together.”
“Ah, that’s how you explain all this?”
It sounded good to her, and rather inspired to boot. “How would you?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Maybe something genuine.”
She shook her head. “I may not know you well, Mr. Bellamy,” she added a little sarcasm in her tone, “but you and I aren’t the kind that will ever find love. Good fucks. Great fucks. That’s the most we can expect.”
“You’re sure of that?” he asked.
“Without a doubt sure,” she replied.
Off of the chair, she darted for the bathroom and pulled a robe from the hook on the wall. By the time she returned, he was half-dressed, looking almost better than before he arrived. He wore the causal, maverick, disheveled look very well. It might have been fun to sleep the whole night with him, but any spell of desire that marked this night was now broken. The only right thing to do was let the mood take them exactly where it needed to—back to business.
“I’ll be preparing a brief tomorrow. We’ll discuss it Monday morning, if you can make it to my office?”
“That should be fine. Call my secretary first thing for my schedule and make an appointment; she should be in the office by 7:30.”
For just a moment she wondered what it would be like to really love a man like this one. But it was only a lonely, end-of-the-day kind of thought, when having a man to curl beside might soothe away a few new lines about her eyes and take away some of her perpetual weariness. The thought drifted away as soon as Mike started toward her front door and she realized that he was really leaving. He never had any intention of sleeping with her, just having sex.
“I am glad we got the preliminaries out of the way,” he said as he turned back. “It really helps to have the basics handled. We won’t have to worry about it in the future.”
“Exactly,” she agreed—though she had the feeling that this night—in this particular case, with this particular man—might have made her job a whole lot harder. Mike Bellamy wasn’t just another man, and she had the ominous feeling there was more behind his words he wasn’t saying.
By the time he left, Gillian was stone cold sober.
Chapter Eleven
The day Gillian realized she was dressing to please Mike Bellamy—wearing a tight knit dress with nothing underneath but stockings—was the day her next instructions from the club appeared. She was rushing. A conference with Mike at eight, in court at 9:00, another conference about the Bellamy Ltd. lawsuit with the other attorneys at the firm at 2:00 pm, and then a cocktail party at 5:00—at Mike’s invitation, a gala event announcing new products and advertising that she couldn’t miss—so he told her. She wished she had some better news on their anti-trust action—his company was in a messier situation than she first imagined. It took hours of thinking just to get the players straight in this corporate soap opera. A day with him in her mind wasn’t a prospect she welcomed—especially since the sexual energy between them hadn’t stopped in the slightest and she was trying to maintain her poise in face of the alarming things he did to her cunt without even touching it.
She loved the ivory wool hugging her, as soft as a lamb’s fleece against her skin. The neckline scooped low in front. Seeing how her breasts formed the fabric to their remarkable shape, she eyed herself in the mirror, pleased. Though her nipples were just gentle buds without any stimulation, making slight impressions in the wool, they might turn into rocks with just one glance from Mike. Maybe the dress was too dangerous worn braless. Unzipping it, she pulled it off her shoulders. Then rummaging through her drawer, she looked for a smooth unstructured bra that would give the hefty mounds enough form to keep her decent for the day. She smiled, wondering what Mike would think if he saw her breasts through the transparent lace. She imagined his eyes mesmerized, his fingers moving to her chest with his exquisite touch.
“I’ve got to stop thinking like this!” she announced aloud.
Her body appropriately tamed above, she turned around, seeing just the slightest sign of her naked ass. This one feature she wouldn’t change. Mike loved her ass, and he’d love this too. And for court, she’d wear a pale green jacket over the top. Too much sexual innuendo was not appropriate in Judge Ricks’ courtroom. She’d keep the seduction to Mike alone, even if the seduction was a dangerous game.
Knowing she was late for her eight o’clock, Gillian grabbed her briefcase and dashed for the front door, almost slipping in her high heels on a starched cream-colored envelope just shoved under her door.
Her heart beat frantically, and her cunt jumped alive. With her first message since the night in the bar, thoughts of Mike quickly vanished, replaced by fear and a deeper hunger this note implied. Why when she was always in a hurry? she wondered as a nail slipped under the flap and she drew the message from inside.
“I have special plans for you, Brahms. Don’t disappoint me. M.”
Plans? What plans? No instructions, just plans. She stuffed the note back in its envelope and then into her purse. Dashing from her apartment, she had to forget the thing, otherwise she’d been off all day long. This was not a day for mental blunders. But then, maybe that’s what this treacherous M wanted.
***
Mike took one glance at Gillian as she entered her office—she was ten minutes late.
“You think it’s wise to look so … so provocative in court?” he asked.
“I have a jacket to wear over it. See, right here,” she let him see the green wool draping her arm. “But I’m running all day and needed something I could wear to your party.”
“Women are so very clever,” he replied.
She sat down, while he smirked his way through a cup of coffee and conversation for the next several minutes.
“I have to be in court in twenty minutes,” she finally announced as the sexually prickly conference was at an end. She rose from her chair gathering what she needed in her hands. Though, rushing past her client on her way out the door, she suddenly turned back. Leaning over her desk to find a file she needed, she felt Mike at her back, his hands running down her sides.
“Oh, no! We don’t have time,” she purred to him very sweetly, and pushed his hands away.
“Oh, yes, we do. You have at least twenty-five minutes. This won’t take long.”
“No,” she shook her head. “It’ll make me late.”
“But it’s what you need, Ms. Brahms. I think being used has a special fascination for you. And maybe this will settle you down so you can concentrate.”
How did he know this? How could he be so sure, after vows and assurances for the last week that this wouldn’t happen? How could he know after a dozen meetings with him that this one time, she’d give in.
Mike held her at the edge of her desk and inch by inch drew her skirt over her hips. Her two cheeks coming into view were an amazing vision—so vulnerable and submissively waiting for him to use as he desired. She was clothed in nothing but a layer of nervous agitation, and he sought to calm her nerves with a soothing hand. They both felt her body quake and heard the lilting whine of her sex-hungry sigh. As his fingers moved between her thighs, Gillian assisted his efforts, opening herself wide so he could slip his fingers in her hole and massage the cl
it. She murmured softly, and when his hand withdrew from her snatch she breathed her own fragrance and sucked the juice away.
With his zipper open, he plunged himself inside and began to ride, ass and crotch grinding into each other. They muffled the sounds of pleasure, but still they escaped, hers in little sighs and mews, his more earthy in a deep baritone.
“Fuck me!” she whispered. And he fucked her hard. The pulse built, the air got hot around them, then her cunt clutched his penis and squeezed as he came. She came seconds later, and it was done just that fast. There’d been the peak, a crushing spasm, and then gently falling over that anxious precipice until she was momentarily unconscious.
Waking, she was still over the edge of the desk, eye to eye with her clock. Eight fifty.
“We have ten minutes to get to court,” she declared.
“I’ll drive,” he said handing her his handkerchief, playfully smirking. “You’ve got a long day in that dress, better keep it clean.”
The door to her office was opened long before she was ready, but in less than sixty seconds, they were out the door, moving quickly to the elevator with his cum still sliding down her thigh.
***
Gillian Brahms was brilliant. All the right moves, the right motion, the tiniest of vocal inflections, sarcasm and wry wit, and finally biting commentary, getting the judge’s attention. The proceedings couldn’t have gone better, and she breathed peacefully walking down the courthouse corridor with Mike’s hand at her back.
“My miserable mess looking any rosier right now?” he asked her as if he couldn’t tell.
She didn’t reply.
“I think I at least deserve a thank-you for putting you at ease,” he added.
“I didn’t think that was a job required of you,” she answered back.
Though she liked the feel of his hand on her ass, she was getting more nervous realizing that some time soon, she’d have a date with the club. Almost as though its specter would jump at her like a ghost, she let her eyes rove for other eyes that might be staring at her now, wondering why she was so cozy with this client, when she owed her sexual allegiance to the club alone.
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