Paganini's Tale, Chapter 15

She walked into Larry's office again, this time in lavender
cotton top (clinging to her firm small tits) atop tight black
pants. No longer looking the businesswoman like she had the
last time, she seemed more a vision from a wet dream of an
adolescent, standing there in her spike heels brazenly, a look
of wanton pleasure already on her face.
   Larry for a moment panicked: what if someone saw? What would
they say?
   Then he stopped that thought. It's just a job, he said to
himself. Jobs can be found. Fucks like this can't always. I'll
look back on this for the rest of my life. The risk is worth
it.
   Just over the partition on either side were coworkers, so
blatancy wasn't the ticket. Subtlety, double-phrasings were in
order.
   "Sophia," he said, his pen still on the paper before him. "I
was just thinking about you. How's Peter?"
   He smiled as much inside as out. He felt wicked in a
delicious way.
   The woman, "Sophia," smiled back. "I imagine he's recovered
by now. I'll be finding out how recovered soon."
   She strolled in, rolling her hips. Her thighs were tightly
encased in black fabric, her pussy lips held apart separate by
the seam. Larry watched unabashedly as she approached.
   "In fact," she continued, in lower tones, "I'm meeting him
for lunch in an hour. Care to join us?"
   He thought about his rapidly-enlarging peter, which obviously
wanted her to lunch on it. He grinned more broadly.
   "That sounds good. Where?"
   "Here, let me write the address down." She picked a pen from
the jar on the desk, and jotted some words down on the paper
she took from his desk top.
   From her tiny black purse dangling from the thin cord on her
shoulder she took a black tie. "Here," she said, giving it to
him. "Wear this. Peter will get a kick out of it."
   Larry draped it across two fingers as he took it from her.
"Any particular style?"
   Sophia put her palms on the desk, and leaned over to him. Her
breath was hot in his ear; he shivered. "You will wear it over
your eyes. Once it's on, you must not take it off unless I take
it off. Should you, then I will immediately leave. I will
remove it when it's appropriate." She backed away from his ear,
looked in his eyes: "Peter will be so surprised," she said out
loud. "All right then, see you at twelve."
   She turned toward the door. Then, her tightly-clad and
tightly-packed butt facing him, she reached down between her
legs. Long fingers stroked her bulging cuntlips through the
denim. She wiggled her ass, straightened, looked over her
shoulder, winked, then was gone.
   Larry blinked, then looked down at the tie on his desk. With
a quick motion, he swept it up and wadded it into his pocket.
His stiff tool lurched as his fingers grazed it; he smiled, and
almost murmured Soon, buster, soon you'll be getting some more.
   *****
   On her tenth negligee, her fantasies had taken on a life of
their own. Alice knew that the salesmen were curious about her,
the way she'd hold up the fabric to her firm body, as if
testing the fit around her breasts, between her legs, with slow
strokes. Most of the action took place beneath eye level, so
they weren't too curious, or so Alice hoped.
   She was in ancient Rome, letting Caeser bury his stiff prick
into her virgin asshole. <Vidi, Vici, Veni>, she heard him say
in her fantasy, as he came like a firehose deep in her bowels.
His teeth sank into her shoulders, and she rubbed the silk
against her drenched pussy.
   She'd been concentrating on the fantasies, just as she had
been instructed to. When her mind would begin to wander, she
forced it back to the topic at hand: sex. Men fucking her in
all the places she could be fucked. Between her tits had been a
biker, in black leather. In her mouth was a football player,
his muscles shiny with sweat from practice.
   Under her arm, pointing up to her face, was a tribal
chieftain, built like the man she'd seen in a poster once,
whose limp cock was tied into a knot. <What must that be like
hard,> she had wondered at the time; in her fantasy she had
seen it, like a bartender's mini-bat, thrusting up toward her
face.
   Now, as Caeser plumbed the depths of her ass, she pushed the
silk against the lips of her sopping cunt. She was so wet it
was embarassing: the crotch of her maroon pants was darkened
with the ooze of her excitement.
   She glanced at her watch: 3:35. She was late! Imagining all
the men fucking her, imagining her mystery lover watching,
knowing what she was thinking, had been more consuming than
she'd expected. With fear chasing her steps, she hurried to the
men's department.
   <What if he doesn't show up,> she wondered as she reached the
corner of the suitrack. <What if I blew it, I'll never know
what might have happened.> Her hand came up, trembling, to
touch the fabric of the suit in front of her, pretending to
look at the buttons. Her heart beat fast, and it sounded in her
ears like everyone could hear it.
   She was so sexually charged she would almost fuck anybody who
asked. A pimply-faced warehouse stocker, were he to smell her
need, could have had her juicy cunt for the asking. He'd have a
cock, she thought, and that's all I want right now. A cock to
fuck, a cock to fuck me.
   She put a hand in her pocket and fingered her cunt lips
through the fabric. Her other hand stroked the long rough
sleeve of the woolen jacket she was inspecting.
   Then she heard his voice in her ear: "You're hot right now,
aren't you, my little whore. You want my prick inside you?"
   "Yes," she breathed, sinking back into him, feeling on one
butt-cheek the firmness of his crotch. "Yes, that's what I
want. I want you now, I want you badly."
   "Then go into the dressing rooms. Past the last one is a
utility room. The door says "Janitor." You will enter it and
pull your shirt over your head. Keep your arms within the
fabric, feel the tightness holding you in. I will join you
soon."
   Then he pulled away from her. She waited, feeling like Lot's
wife, wanting to turn to see him walking away. She hadn't seen
him since that very first time at the party, and could barely
remember what he looked like.
   But she controlled herself. Getting fucked was too important
right now to risk not having him just for satisfying her
curiosity. She needed his hard shaft inside her, and that took
precedence over everything else.