by Jenna Kelly
David Sterak wearily pulled into the loading dock and parked the truck by the heavy iron doors across to the right. The small, ugly concrete loading area could only cater for four trucks at any given time, but tonight it was empty. No problem in negotiating into the small parking spot.
He sighed. How much sleep had his Internet poker addiction cost him in recent weeks? Last night had been no different. And Natalie's performance tonight would result in another late night. His girlfriend had a marvellous voice, though so far she'd not yet broken through into the big time. She would. That indefinable star quality meant it was only a matter of time.
Okay, country acid house was an unusual sound. Definitely not mainstream. But Alabama 3 hadn't done badly, had they?
And the sexy Lindsay Wellson had taken the genre to a new level. The hottest ticket since Britney Spears in her prime—and that was nothing compared to the following she had in Europe—Natalie had modelled her style on the blonde superstar.
Yet David knew their voices were very different. He was convinced his girlfriend's was every bit as commercial – if she could just get that first break, success was just around the corner.
The youngster's stretch as he alighted from the truck was laboured. God, his body ached. It took only a moment to open the vehicle's back door. The night workers would shortly be loading it up again for the next batch of deliveries, but that would be somebody else's problem.
Jogging across the hard concrete into the tiny depot's office, he poured himself a plastic cup of water from the machine on the wall. It would fall off soon if it wasn't repaired. It was unusual for the tatty front office to be empty. Slade would be somewhere around, he always was.
The thin owner had a fearsome reputation. Although David and Slade got on well enough, the younger man was always on his guard. His employer's hard, dark eyes gave a hint of the continually scheming brain. Keep on his right side, David constantly told himself.
From the stories he occasional overheard, the dark haired youngster was aware that a few of his fellow delivery drivers did after hours side jobs for Slade. God knows what they got involved in. If there was something dirty going on in this part of London, his boss had something to do with it.
David was only too aware he'd be drawn into that line of work if he weren't careful. Slade had often commented on his tall, solid frame and suggested he could 'help him out'. The money would come in useful, certainly. But the crinkly haired young man was careful to distance himself from such activities. Like Natalie, he had his own dream.
Stick to what he knew while he waited for a break of his own. One day, he'd become a professional poker player. He just needed a bankroll to give himself the opportunity to prove himself.
That's why he'd taken this job. A driver for one of the local delivery companies wasn't quite his ideal position. He often laughingly compared himself to Matt Damon in the movie, Rounders. In the movie, Damon took the job to earn back the money his character had lost playing poker. With David, it was to make money so that he could join the circuit.
If it weren't for his girlfriend, he'd already have started down that route. Taken what he had and used it to bankroll himself. He knew he could make a good living. Natalie didn't feel the same way. If they wanted to continue to afford to live in the cheap, rented, London apartment, they needed a steady income. He'd have to get a real job, she'd insisted.
One day he'd prove her wrong. Until then, he'd pleased her by taking a job for the Parcel Express business. When his Internet bankroll was large enough, the sky would be the limit.
He glanced around. Where the hell was Slade? He needed to sign out and make his way to meet Natalie. That's when he heard the noise in the small back office. He ambled across, glancing through the small window in the middle of the badly veneered brown door.
There was just enough light in the back room to make out the moving shapes. Slade sat on the wicker chair, his head nodding slightly. He was facing away from the door. So was the naked girl writhing on his lap.
***
"Yeah, baby," the dyed blonde gasped, gyrating on his lap. She loved the reverse cowgirl position, delighting in the way her snug little pussy swallowed him whole. For a second, she closed her eyes, lying back against his chest as he fondled her huge tits.
She enjoyed her evening sessions with the businessman. He paid her well to do something she loved. Fucking. Doing it in the dark of the back office added a bit of romance. She didn't get much romance. Her groan as his hands tweaked her nipples turned into a throaty growl.
Her eyes opened again, staring into the stained mirror on the cheap brown desk in front of her. A small, bronze filing cabinet sat to their right, the three items of furniture being all the small room could accommodate.
Geez! She loved watching herself being fucked. She also loved an audience. And the young man's face peering in through the small window in the door was a helluva turn on.
"Oh, yeah," she gasped, more to the face than the man beneath her. A chance to put on a show.
She began to gyrate, moving like a lap dancer, her eyes glued on the eyes that peered through the small window. Her hips rotated in tight little circles in Slade's lap. Her hands covered his, encouraging him to mash her tits harder. When Slade began to groan, she leant forward, easing her ass upwards before slamming it back down on him again.
"Fuck, honey," the panting man gasped.
She repeated the manoeuvre. Again. Then once more.
Slade's hands redirected to her Slade hips to steady himself. Taking advantage, she clutched her magnificent swells, pulling on her long nipples and showing them to the refection in the mirror. Even in the semi dark of the room, she was pretty sure the peeping tom could see.
Arching her back, she changed from her slamming, downward thrusts to circular rotations again. "Like that, baby?" she asked.
"Yeah," panted Slade.
But it wasn't the thin business owner she was speaking to. It was the face at the door.
Her hands left her tits to run through her dirty, blonde hair. So what if the roots were showing? Men found that sexy. She pulled it high on top of her head as she jammed back down on him, making sure Slade's long dick burrowed as deep into her sex as he could possibly go.
She flexed her legs, digging her feet into the linoleum as she began to bounce. Just like Tigger, her favourite cartoon character. A childish smile covered her young lips. She often thought of Tigger when fucking. Boing! Boing!
Over and over, she pounded down on the badly puffing man. Her full tits danced erotically with each thrust. If the guy watching wasn't stroking himself by now, he wasn't human.
She arched her back again, pushing her shoulders back against Slade's. Her blonde hair bounced across his sweaty chest. His breathing was laboured now.
Maybe his heart would give out? God, that would be a real turn-on. Fucking someone to death.
"Gonna cum, baby?" her vibrating voice gasped. She repeated the words. Over and over. "Gonna cum? Gonna cum? Cum for Donna—"
She glanced in the mirror again. Damn, the face at the door had gone. Probably cleaning his cum soaked pants.
Slade's voice brought her back to the task. "Gnh… I'm there—"
With an athletic Natalie that defied her chubby body, she swung around and dropped to her knees. Just in time to catch the first blast of cum as he detonated inside her eager mouth.
Her sex twitched with each burst, the slick muscles tightening each time she sucked in another rope of pearly seed. She knew what to expect. He couldn't stop. Not in her sexy mouth. He never could.
His hips jerked with each successive explosion. Her hand slipped onto her clit. Rubbing herself furiously, she came almost immediately.
***
Marissa Buchanan wasn't proud
of herself. But she'd do what she had to do. She had an okay voice, but nothing compared to the extraordinary tone of her older sister. Forming a duo had been Natalie's idea, but it had never really worked. David had been right. Marissa's voice was insufficiently different for them to become successful.
Natalie had turned solo and Marissa's departure from singing was the best thing she could have done. At first, she'd pooh-poohed David's suggestion that she should consider modelling. Yes, she had a great body. But thousands of women her age had. Then, she'd put her toe in the water.
The characteristic that stood her out from all other aspiring hopefuls, she knew, was the same fierce determination to succeed as her older sister. She and Natalie were so alike. Once she'd decided on her new career, she was totally committed. And now, remarkably, her personality, body and single-minded obsession were paying off.
It had been difficult to begin with. Of course it had. Finding a reputable agency hadn't been easy. Eventually, a small London organisation had taken her on. The Greek owner had said he was taking a chance with her. Nikolai had been as good as his word.
Of course, it wasn't just her figure that had swayed him. Marissa knew that. Her ability to flirt was a major factor, too. She was almost embarrassed at the way she'd come on to him. But all was fair when trying to make it in the modelling world.
He'd tried it on with her. Of course he had. Most men did. So far, she'd been able to keep the Greek at bay but right now, her resolve was weakening. Especially with the offer he'd just put in front of her.
"It's guaranteed, beautiful Marissa," Nikolai told her.
"Guaranteed?"
He strutted across the wide expanse of his pretentious office. Marissa had never seen a desk that large, and the green, curved leather chair was a perfect match. The long couch she was sitting on would accommodate four people, and the drinks cabinet to the side was always well stocked, and frequently used. Tonight was the first time he'd offered her a drink.
She had to admit, he was an impressive sight in his dark blue tailored suit and crisp white shirt. Some six feet five, hairy and barrel-chested, he towered over her as she looked up at him from her position in the corner of the green leather couch. Nikolai liked his furniture to match.
"Absolutely. I have Vegas connections. An agency over there wants a fresh face. A British look. They love the portfolio I sent over to them. Now all that remains is for them to test you. In Vegas. All expenses paid. You can't lose, beautiful Marissa."
She laughed nervously, shifting her bottom uneasily on the seat. Was he actually serious? Vegas? So soon after joining the Agency? Was this a wind up? "Yeah, right," her dry voice eventually said.
His eyebrows went up in that theatrical way of his. "Didn't I tell you I'd look after you?"
Her head slipped to one side. Her eyes narrowed. She smoothed the short skirt down from where it had ridden up her thighs. Nikolai' eyes homed in on her legs. He didn't miss a thing. "Ye-es," she slowly agreed, sipping the gin and tonic he'd supplied her with earlier. She hated the drink, but hadn't wanted to offend him.
"And I've delivered, haven't I?" he smiled. It was that superior smile she hated so much. "Two photo shoots so far."
The huge, bald man removed his jacket and hung it over the chair next to the couch, brushing a couple of imaginary hairs from the lapel. When he suddenly swung back to look at her, he caught her eyes on his body.
Damn! If Tommy showed more interest in her, she wouldn't be feeling this horny. How long was it since she and her boyfriend had fucked each other's brains out? Too long. Sex had become routine. Boring. Their whole relationship was boring.
For a moment she wondered what Nikolai would look like naked? He didn't get that body without working out. Her heart began to beat a little faster. "You're being serious?" she asked.
The huge Greek nodded. His hands went to his hips. "That's what I told you, beautiful Marissa."
Her excited brown eyes ran down a body she knew was posing for her. She'd always loved his imposing physical presence. "Okay."
The huge Greek laughed. "Okay? Is that all you have to say, Marissa? I'm offering you a chance of the big time, and all you say is okay?"
The blonde felt herself flush. Yes, that was ungracious. If the Agency owner was being truthful, this was the opportunity of a lifetime. "I'm sorry. I really am. I wasn't thinking, Nikolai. It's… just—"
"Too good to be true?"
Her head jerked up. Studying his face, she saw nothing that indicated he was playing games with her. She should have known. The Greek may be many things, but he'd always been straight with her. "Yes—"
"Beautiful Marissa," he began, walking towards her, his gaze never leaving her deep brown eyes. "The road to success is paved with pitfalls. But what I am offering you is the opportunity that my other models would scratch your eyes out to get. The choice is yours—"
The beating in her heart made her think it would burst from her chest. "Nikolai, I'm sorry," she apologised again. "You know this is what I want. What I've always wanted."
His smile turned into a knowing look. "There's just one thing, beautiful Marissa. You know what it is."
The blush in her face turned to bright red. Surely he couldn't mean—
"You've been flirting with me ever since you came to the club. Teasing me." He sat back against the small wooden table, folding his hands over his chest. "All to get your own way. And I've given you everything you've asked, Marissa. Every time you fluttered those pretty eyelashes. Didn't you think the day of reckoning would come?"
He loved these situations. Exerting control. It wasn't the first time he'd set such a trap. He'd lusted after that spectacular young body ever since he'd first seen her. If she allowed him to fuck her, she'd be the perfect material for the American Agency to mould. The blonde would look superb on video, that was for sure.
Marissa opened her mouth to speak. Words wouldn't come out. What could she say? She had been a cocktease. Deliberately so. It had always worked with other men. That's how she usually got what she wanted. Now it had got her Vegas. But there was a price to pay.
Her eyes went back to the Greek. He was nodding, strutting towards her. As he walked, his chunky fingers went to his crisp white shirt. Pulling the ends from his trousers, he began to unbutton it.
"No!" Her response was instantaneous. Her tone was firm. Still, her eyes feasted on the muscular chest as he ignored the protest and uncovered himself. Her tongue involuntarily flicked across her full lips. Her hands crossed nervously. He had some body.
His knowing eyes held hers as he pulled the shirt from his shoulders, flexing his muscles. "Think of it this way, beautiful Marissa," he smiled, his hands moving to his D&G belt. "I've delivered on every promise I've made." He pulled the unfastened belt through the loop in his trousers, theatrically dropping it to the floor. "And you? You've flirted with me. Your eyes have promised everything. Delivered nothing."
"I haven't—" His eyes stopped her protest. Bright blue, they were almost beautiful.
"Oh yes, you have," he contradicted, unzipping the trousers and stepping out of them. For a moment his eyes left hers as he folded them carefully across the chair. Standing there in just white boxers, hair covering his muscular chest and his big, broad arms - he looked magnificent.
Five seconds later, the boxers were on the floor too. Even half erect, his cock was very impressive. Much longer and chunkier than Tommy's. It began to lengthen steadily as he dropped his hands back to his hips. She let out a soft gasp of appreciation.
With a start, she realised he was speaking again. Her brown eyes pulled away from the monster.
"So now, beautiful Marissa," he said, his rapidly hardening cock bouncing obscenely as he stepped closer. "You have two choices. Deliver what your eyes have promised. Just once. And I'll open the doors to Vegas."
With another step, he was there. In front of her. His cock was gloriously erect.
Her mouth watered. Yet her throat was dry. Was there a way of closing t
he Vegas deal without giving him a blowjob?
This was her own fault. She knew that. She had flirted. She had teased. Now it was payback time. There was no way she was going to turn down the opportunity he'd given her. But in her heart, had to admit it wasn't solely Vegas that were driving her actions.
It was the cock throbbing no more than a foot away. It stood full and proud now, the swollen, purple, head glistening with anticipation. Her eyes dropped to the hairy hand that was now stroking the veiny shaft. She knew she wanted it. She was wet for it.
One hand thumped her glass on the side table, and then circled around his powerful ass. The other wrapped itself around his girth. With a thick growl of arousal, her wet mouth descended. His stroking hand left his manhood and his chubby fingers wrapped themselves in her golden locks.
She choked a little as he shoved himself deep into her throat. He allowed her to pleasure him for some time before he pulled her head away.