by Fifi Flowers
I aspired to be a rock star, ballerina… too tall and definitely too curvy… actress… and here I was in human “fucking” resources. Why? Why? Why? Oh, yes… I needed to pay rent, eat, wear clothing… one of my least favourite things to do… and bottom line: Survive on my own!
Today was going to be pure shit! My curly, long, golden blonde hair refused to cooperate. It did allow me to manage it on some days, but this morning it had a mind all of its own. Roping it in with a rubber hair tie and several hairpins, I created a sophisticated… ha! I laughed to myself… chignon… bun at the nape of my giraffe neck. Of course my grooming woes did not stop there. No. Puffy swollen, red eyes denied my use of contacts. I was forced to settle for a pair of black, cat-eyed framed glasses decorated with three rhinestones on each corner upon the bridge of my straight, slightly turned-up-tipped nose. Maybe if I didn’t stay up late reading erotic romance and entertaining BOB until the wee hours of the morning I wouldn’t have this problem. Another laugh to myself… no, wearing glasses would have to do, I couldn’t give up my bedtime rituals.
The look I was exhibiting now was good for my current assignment of the day: Issuing a formal warning. Yes, the severe appearance teamed with my just below the knee charcoal grey pencil skirt, crisp white and pointed black pump heels were perfect to portray authority. What a laugh… the opposite of who I wanted to be.
Turning the corner, walking into the stuffy curator offices; I cleared my throat, reached up and made sure my bun was secure, smoothed my skirt, stood up a little taller and stopped in front of the desk of a redheaded woman. Ignoring my presence, the woman continued to type on her keyboard. Ah! The reason for my journey to the other end of the museum was seated right in front of me.
Folding my arms beneath my heavy breasts, I cleared my throat asking to be looked upon. “Hello… I’m here to see Mr. Marten.”
Finally the petite bitch glanced in my direction casually and then back to her computer screen and typed while muttering “I’m sure you are.” Then without fully acknowledging me she informed me Mr. Marten would be with me in a few moments as she stood, looked me up and down, snickered and exited the office. DAMN! A warning was not going to be enough for that piece of work. No, she needed to be extricated permanently from the employment of the museum immediately!
Pierce…
“Holy Fuck!” Who was the sexy as hell librarian standing in my waiting area? My cock was instantly hard thinking about her whipping me with a riding crop for not returning my overdue library books in a timely fashion. Pull it together, Pierce! Down boy! Luckily she was turned at an angle that allowed me to adjust myself without her noticing.
Reaching my hand out, the tall commanding woman put her soft, manicured fingers into my grip firmly. “Ms… Pierce Marten… what can I do for you?” God, what I wanted to do for her. Starting with biting that exquisitely long neck and working my way…
With her delicate hand still in mind, looking intently into my face with deep dark chocolate brown eyes she replied in the voice of an angel, “Ms. Erikksen… I need to speak to you about your rude assistant.” As the words left her red painted lips, she withdrew her hand, leaving me cold and longing for her hands all over my body.
“Ms. Erikksen, what did Jillian do now?” I didn’t really give a shit what she did, but I could play along as long as it would prolong this gorgeous creature in my captivity.
“Chloe… you can call me Chloe.” She hesitated and I knew I had affected her. At least I hoped I had. I needed to focus on the words coming from that lovely mouth. “Human resources have sent me down to deliver a warning, but…” Oh how I wanted to capture that mouth and when I saw her tongue dart out… oooh… I wanted to feel it lick my cock. Shit! Did I just moan? Snapping back, I realized that she was terminating Jillian.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I managed to state calmly. “Do you have a replacement for me?” Perhaps “you” I was thinking. The images of her bent over my desk… straddling my lap in my chair with her legs spread wide… my face buried between those long legs… the possibilities were endless.
Her fuckable lips kept moving and my fantasies ran wild. “…Two weeks’ notice… but I envision a nasty departure… escorted by security… severance…” Then she was silent and staring at me. Shit! I was busted. “Mr. Marten, are you listening to me?” She asked with a wicked grin on her face and if I was not mistaken; pebbled nipples. I instantly wondered what colour were they… were her areolas silver dollar or quarter size… Shaking my head, I grouped.
“Please call me Pierce. I understand all the reasons you stated for Jillian’s dismissal.” Actually, I hadn’t heard even one of the reasons she stated, I was too busy wondering when and how I would be slamming my cock inside of her. But of course I knew from other people and from my own observations that Jillian wasn’t an asset to the museum. “You’re right she could very well cause trouble. However, I believe I can help remedy that. I have a few connections. I will see if I can get her a position with a friend.”
The look on her face told me that I had confirmed her suspicions. I wouldn’t deny it, Jillian and I had been intimate on a few occasions and I knew it was a mistake, but men don’t always think with their brains. Jillian also knew there would never be anything between us. I had given it a shot a few months back, but I couldn’t do it. She couldn’t tame me. But I had a sneaking suspicion that Chloe Erikksen just might be the one to do it… if I was given a chance to take down that golden mane of hers and strip her of those conservative garments. Something told me that woman just might have possession of a red riding crop!
Chloe…
Getting my hair straightened and waved for tonight’s performance, I was thinking about how my week started. I still couldn’t get over the get over the image of Pierce Marten, aka the H-O-T curator. He was a serious specimen. New to the museum, I had never seen him. Of course I had heard plenty about him from various women, but the description did nothing to prepare me. I’m amazed that I didn’t place myself at his feet and wait for his first command. My kitty juices were flowing freely and I wished I had an extra pair of panties in my purse by the time I returned to my office. “Kitty juices!” I laughed quietly. Where did that term come from? I had never used that expression in my life. I must’ve heard it from one of the showgirls… probably Vanessa. Pronounced “Vaness-aaaah” she told me when I met her at our first show rehearsal. That girl was always telling wild stories; keeping me entertained. Oh… thinking about the word “entertained” and my mind wandered back to the man of my last week’s wet dreams. Yum… how I would love to entertain that mouthwatering curator! I needed to stop thinking about him now or I would be singing the night away with soaked lace between my thighs.
Sally, my hairdresser and makeup artist, brought me back reality. “Who is he? You’ve got it bad for this one!” She had no idea and I didn’t care to expound on his deliciousness as I pointed to my stark face in need of glamorization. “Yea. Yea. I’m getting there,” she said shaking her head at me as she began painting on my stage makeup and attaching extremely long faux eyelashes.
Once she finished my transformation, I rolled sheer black, thigh high nylons up my long dancer legs and attached them to a black lace bustier with garters red bows at the top. Leaning forward I pulled the girls up. They sat high and proud on either side of another delicate red bow between two extremely sheer lace underwire cups. There was no hiding the nipples in this slinky number. What did I expect when I took this burlesque gig in a swanky exclusive invitation, members only intimate club? I had hoped to be wearing elegant evening gowns while belting out old standards and pop songs. That vision was dashed quickly. When they fitted me for “costumes” and I gazed about the dressing room to see feathers, silks, leathers and lace, I knew I would be scantily clad while performing on their stage.
Hearing my musical cue, I sauntered out through the opening of plush drapery to be placed on a white grand piano by two tall, muscular men dressed in leathers. This was the rit
ual for me on Friday and Saturday nights every other weekend. The place was spectacular… stunning décor dripped from all aspect of the establishment. Antiqued mirrors were on all walls and along the front of the bar; giving the appearance of a never-ending space. Between the bar and the stage, lush purple velvet diamond tufted sofas accented with midnight blue, turquoise and magenta pillows were scattered about with low white onyx tables. Immediately surrounding the stage were raised deeper purple booths with the same onyx tables. All of the surfaces that weren’t mirrored were white and the glowing pink lighting made the club warm, inviting and extremely sexy. I was in awe every time I stepped out and saw the massive floral arrangements and crystal chandeliers that were the crowning jewels. I instantly forgot where I was and what I was wearing. Smoke, mirrors and magic… an illusion.
Tonight’s selection of music was uplifting. I started my first set with a handful of Johnny Mercer songs while sitting on the edge of the piano. Once we moved on to some popular tunes I was joined by a number near-naked dancing girls; surrounding me at first before they moved around to shimmy in front our male guests. The room was packed solid this evening, not an empty seat to be found. I knew the breaks between my three sets were going to be short. I had to entertain the troops so to speak. I would have tired feet tomorrow and be in need of a sleep in for sure. Luckily my spirits were high as I swayed and hit every note on a perfect pitch. Nothing could dampen my mood. The night was going along smoothly… outstanding as a matter of fact and then I saw him during my last set of the night. Yes, that beautiful man! Brown neatly trimmed hair, clean shaven chiseled face, and thick black rectangle eyeglasses that framed his expressive hazel eyes… damn that man was sexy! Yes… Mr. Curator was seated in the center booth with a couple of equally handsome gentlemen and his eyes were locked on me.
Pierce…
I almost joined some museum clients for dinner tonight, but my prep school buddies had insisted I accompany them to a new private club in town. Arriving at the club around nine o’clock after having steaks and cigars at a favourite local pub and hitting a few other clubs, we slugged back a couple beers standing at the bar. Around ten o’clock they seated us at a reserved table right upfront, center-stage for their burlesque show. Dancing girls and booze, what could be better than that… what… I’ll tell you exactly what… looking up and seeing a practically nude woman with a gorgeous golden wavy mane singing like a fucking beautiful songbird. Then it hit me. I knew those lips. Those chocolate eyes. The songstress perched atop of the pink-cast piano was Chloe with her hair down and her face all made up. She took my breath away and made my heart beat irregularly… and my cock… well, I don’t think I need to describe the state my appendage was in.
Chloe sang old big band tunes that I remembered listening to on visits to my grandparents’ house for Sunday dinner. Donning a microphone headset, she segued into popular music when the dance music began, and other lingerie cloaked girls joined her on stage shaking their assets. They were all pretty but none of them compared to Chloe. I was fixated on her; nothing could tear my gaze away from her. She sang… she danced… she shimmed… she shook… she held me captive. I wanted a private dance. Alone. Away from here. My bedroom preferably. She had me in a painful state. Only she could relieve me.
Next up, two muscular men dressed in leather with whips in hand roamed her body, play acting various sexual acts while she belted out a song about bdsm. My cock became hard as a rock while I became enraged with jealousy. I didn’t want other men’s hands on her. I was happy when the song ended and then overwhelm when she moved to my table singing about being the only girl. She was the only girl… woman for me and I realized that as her deep intense eyes penetrated me… captured me. Placed back on the piano, she sang two more songs and then said goodnight and exited the stage.
Not wasting any time I tipped a bouncer a few large bills and made my way backstage. I found her sitting at a lit dressing table removing the heavy makeup. She looked up and we stared at each other in the mirror. My eyes slid down to her perky pink nipples and I reached around her, beneath the sheer cups and pinched one of them while leaning in to press my lips to the side of her long, elegant neck. “Time to go home with me, Chloe. I would like to take you into a private room here and fuck you, Chloe, but it wouldn’t be enough. What I want to do to you, Chloe, will take all night.” I heard a moan and I instructed her to dress quickly and meet me at the exit; my driver would escort her to a waiting car.
Yes. I was breaking my own rules, I thought as I waited in my hired limousine for the night. No women in my home… in my bed. This woman made me forget all rules. All logic had flown from my brain the minute I first saw her in stiff clothing and now with body on display; my brain was not intact. My lower anatomy had won once again. My sanctuary would be violated thanks to the painful appendage between my legs that refused to back down and begged for a pleasurable release.
As Chloe slipped into the plush backseat next me, I wasted no time, lifting her onto my lap positioning her against my ranging erection. Her fitted black jersey but loose wrap around dress made it easy for her to straddle me. I thought I had died and gone to heaven as she began to rock up against my throbbing cock as I plunged my tongue into her sexy, sexy mouth. Easing my lips from her mouth, I slid them down her neck and felt her hands reach between us, unknotting her dress. Pulling back, the vision of her lush tits in a push-up bra that jutted her nipples proudly above the black lace, I groaned and sucked one of her nipples into my mouth. “You’re a bad girl, aren’t you Chloe?” I asked moving to her other nipple as she continued to grind her mound on me.
“Yes, Mr. Marten,” she moaned, rubbing even harder.
Abruptly, I moved her off of my lap, ripped the rest of the dress off of her, leaving her only in her barely there thong and bra set. Turning her around so her curvy ass faced me, I unzipped my pants, donned protection, slapped her hard on each of her beautiful cheeks, pulled her thong to the side and surged deep into her tight, dripping wetness. “Oh Chloe, your cunt is glorious.”
“Please don’t call her that,” she panted and then purred, “Anything but that word… my juicy kitty wants to please you, Mr. Marten, but she doesn’t like that name.”
I was about to tell her to call me “Pierce” but something about the way she moaned “Mr. Marten” as I pinched and pulled on her clit sounded more like “sir.” God, this woman had me in her grip… both figuratively and literally as I brought us both to a screaming orgasm. Any other woman and she would be quickly driven to her doorstep, but no… I was now even more anxious to get up to my high rise apartment. Tapping on the intercom button, I instructed the driver to take us home. I had naughty plans for this woman that would require far more real estate than the back of this limo.
Chloe…
Last night I had the best sex of my life. Pierce took my body to places and levels of intimacy it had never reached. How was it possible that that man could keep going until the sun was just starting to rise? Sunrise. That was my cue. I couldn’t stay. What was I doing with him? He obviously had other income sources I realized as I looked around his apartment. He was out of my league. I didn’t belong to this crowd anymore. I didn’t need him or his friends thinking I was a gold-digger. Extricating myself from his strong, beautifully toned body, I took one last look as I dressed. I would miss that lickable tattoo inked over his one tight ass cheek that wound around his hip and partially up his torso. With a heavy sigh, I fled to the safety of my studio apartment.
Stepping into my place, I drew a hot bath and slid into the water to appease my used and bruised and deliciously sated body. Once the water had cooled, I eased myself out of my claw-footed tub, dried off and put on some lounge pants and a thin strapped cotton t-shirt. Exhausted, I slipped between soft, Egyptian cotton sheets and began to drift off when I heard pounding on my front door.
Jumping out of bed to stop the noise that threatened to have me receive a written notice from my landlord; I threw open the door. There sto
od a very angry looking, but yet handsome Pierce holding my wallet up as if he were Prince Charming with a glass slipper. Seeing my billfold, I didn’t have to ask how he found me, but I did wonder how he got in my building. However, with the narrowed eye stare I was receiving, I remained silent waiting for the words to spew from his lips, but not the words imagined.
“Chloe, is that what I think that is?” Pierce asked and I followed his gaze to an exposed brick wall displaying my horseback riding gear. Yes, I saw exactly what caught his attention. A small black leather braided riding crop from the equestrian days of my youth during good times. My eyes widened as he stepped around me and snatched the whip from its hook. Slapping the crop on his palm, looking at me, my pants flooded with moisture, my nipples hardened, my mouth watered and I licked my lips to stop the drool. Then he said two commanding words I longed to hear. “Strip, Chloe!”
“Yes, Mr. Marten,” I whispered in a voice that sounded like a cross between a moan and a pant. Then with my heart racing wildly and my breathing labored; never breaking eye contact, I began to remove my clothing. Taking my time, keeping eye contact, I grasped the bottom edge of my tee with my fingers and with crisscrossed arms I slowly raised it up and over my head. Tossing it aside, I skimmed my hands over my breasts, stopping to pinch each nipple, then continued down my torso to the top of my pants. Untying the ribbon holding them up, they dropped down my long legs and I kicked them across the floor.
Naked, I moved right up in front of him, but not close enough for him to touch me. I watched as he swallowed hard; giving me more reasons to be bad. Slipping my hand down my needy body, I grazed my extremely moist folds with my finger tips and then I reached up and sucked my fingers into my mouth. “You’re teasing me, Chloe,” he said stepping within arms reach slapping his palm with the crop. “Do you know what happens to bad girls that runaway and then tease their man, Chloe?” Before I could answer, the tip of the crop struck each of my pebbled nibbles and I sucked in a sharp breath, closed my eyes and moaned. “You like that, don’t you Chloe? Yes, I can see it on your face, Chloe. I bet if I stuck my hand between your legs, Chloe, you’d be even more sopping wet now. Open your eyes and look at me, Chloe. I want to see your chocolate eyes darken with desire, Chloe.” With my eyes focused on his without warning he struck my nipples with more force making my kitty ache.
