And then, a few weeks later, something wonderful happened. We were nominated for best shoe store in town. Despite the fact this was only a temporary position, I was surprised how much I cared—about the shoes, about the business.
About Jake.
After the nominations were announced, Jake became nervous and started asking awkward questions about the shoes. I reassured him and he seemed to relax. But just to be sure, in the days leading up to the judging, I worked so hard I hardly noticed the time; hardly heard the creak on the stairs—hardly noticed the shop door open and close behind me one night as I worked…
It was the night before the judging. I was sure we had enough shoes, but just to be safe, I tugged on my robe and crept downstairs to stitch one last pair. I opened the door. Under the soft lights, the shop looked amazing. While Jake had been out all day buying material, I’d been busy here, transforming the shop. I gazed around at the lavish displays, shelves of bright shoes and colorful banners, and I felt a knot tighten in my stomach; a hint of sadness that soon I’d be leaving. With a resigned sigh, I turned to the workbench to get down to work. And stopped.
There, in the center of the workbench stood a pair of killer red boots. In a daze, I walked over to the bench and picked them up. Slutty and sexy, they were right up my alley. With an excited giggle, I sat down on the stool and slid first one foot, then the other into the boots. Folding the leather around my legs I bent over to lace them up. They were a perfect fit! Thigh high and with a five-inch heel, they made my legs look amazing. Feeling horny and kinky, I leapt up off the stool and twirled around, gazing at myself in the shop mirror, my pussy growing wet at the sight of myself in my lusty attire.
Then I heard a noise—the door slowly opening. Clutching the robe to my chest, I turned around, my heart thumping.
A figure stood silhouetted in the doorway. “You found them,” a voice said, so deep and husky I barely recognized it until the figure stepped into the light.
It was Jake.
Gone were the studious glasses and the prim dark suit, instead all he wore was a tight pair of jeans, a sexy smile and a look that could burn up the building.
I stood there, speechless. Realizing he was talking about the boots, I glanced down at them and then back up again. “Yeah, I mean…where did they—”
“Perhaps you’ve got an admirer…” The implication of his words glittered in his gray-green eyes.
“You made them for me?”
Slowly, Jake walked into the room, a mischievous smile on his face. “The other night, I heard a noise,” he said. “So I came downstairs and opened the door. And what did I find…?”
His question echoed in the silence.
“My sexy assistant working her ass off in a flimsy little gown,” he continued, not waiting for a reply. “That was some sight,” he murmured. “So I thought I’d make her a pair she’d enjoy. Call it a thank-you…” Jake swept his gaze over my body. “And hell, they look good.”
I shivered as he stalked toward me, a hungry look in his eyes. Brushing a curl from my face, he traced his finger over my cheek.
“What are you doing?” I whispered, surprised and delighted by this unusual show of dominance.
“Something I should have done ages ago…” Before I could respond, Jake grasped the belt of my gown and tugged. The belt slithered through its loops and came away in his hand. Sliding his fingers under the neckline of my gown, Jake pushed it off my shoulders.
I gasped as the robe fell to the floor. Apart from the boots, I was naked.
Jake exhaled as he stared at me. Curling his arms around my waist, he pulled me against him. My breasts flattened against his chest; my mound pressed hard against the front of his trousers. I moaned as he ran his fingers over my back, taking in the curve of my ass before scooping me up and carrying me to the workbench. Like a lover in a movie, he swept his hand over the wooden surface, sending materials clattering to the floor. Clearing a space, he lowered me down onto it.
Seeing this raw, primitive side of Jake made me wetter. I parted my thighs like a wanton slut. Instinctively, Jake stepped between them. I gasped as his huge, hard cock pressed against me through his trousers.
“Do the boots make you horny?”
“That and your cock against my pussy,” I replied gamely.
With a satisfied smirk, Jake ground his hips against me, teasing me, coating the front of his jeans in my creamy excitement. I bit my lip. I was so damn horny I wanted to fuck him right then, but I knew that wasn’t the way it would be. Jake wanted to take his time.
Pulling away slightly, he traced his hands over my breasts. My nipples hardened at his touch. Enjoying my arousal, Jake continued to play, teasing my nipples with his fingers and mouth. Releasing my tits, he moved his hand lower, down over my belly to the dark hair of my mound. I gasped as he slid his hand between my thighs. Running his hand over my slit, he swirled his fingers in my juice before lifting them to his mouth. “God, you taste good,” he murmured, sliding first one finger then another between his dark red lips.
My clit throbbed with excitement at his words.
Sliding his hands over my thighs, he pushed my legs open wider. Then he dropped to his knees, my pussy level with his face. Watching me with those glittering eyes, he probed a finger into my cunt. I squirmed with delight, the rough edge of the bench digging into my butt as he drove his finger deeper. Then with a hungry moan, he buried his face in my pussy.
I cried out. I couldn’t help it. Watching Jake’s sleek glossy head bobbing between my thighs was so much better than my fantasies! I raked my hands through his hair as he laved my clit, tensed my toes in my boots as he fingered and sucked me. As his tongue moved faster, I ground my hips shamelessly. Jake looked up at me from between my thighs, his eyes intense, lusty.
Just what I’d been waiting for.
Gone was the shy guy with his smooth, steady exploration—now Jake was a man filled with need. Hauling himself to his feet, he tore at the front of his pants. But desire made him clumsy, and he swore as his fingers slipped off the buttons. Hungry to feel him inside me, I took over. I tugged open the buttons and pulled down his pants, letting the firm shiny head of his cock spring free. And what a cock! I slicked my hand up and down it, watching it lengthen and swell in my fingers. Pushing his pants to the floor, I shuffled to the edge of the bench and tilted my hips up toward him.
“Now fuck me…” I whispered.
Transformed with lust, the usually mild-mannered shoemaker didn’t need asking twice. Cupping my butt in his hands, he slid his cock between my thighs and into my warm eager cunt. I moaned as he thrust his way in. My body tensed and I arched my back as he drove inside me. He moved slowly at first as if not wanting to hurt me, then thrust faster. The bench wobbled and creaked as we fucked. I squealed with pleasure as he impaled me, rocked against him, meeting his thrusts. I glanced in the mirror at our lusty liaison and smiled. It was the hottest display in the shop.
Jake’s breathing became ragged. I could tell he was close. Slowing his rhythm, he pulled out of me, a questioning look in his eyes. An invitation for me to play?
I took it. Wearing the boots made me take charge. Time to show the boss who was really the boss.
Grabbing him by the shoulders, I marched him backward until he stumbled against a stool. He fell back onto it, his hard cock slick with my juice. With a smile, I straddled his hips. Jake groaned. He tongued my nipples as I sank down on his cock. I rode him with abandon, relishing the slick slap of our thighs as we slammed together on the stool.
My legs began to tremble. Rubbing my pussy up against him, I felt the orgasm building inside me. I couldn’t hold out any longer. Jake caught my eye. It was as if he knew. With a wicked grin he grabbed my hips and pulled me down harder.
That was it—my pussy exploded. I cried out as convulsions shook my thighs. Watching me come on his lap, Jake’s grin turned into a groan. Digging his fingers in my ass, he shot his load up inside me.
Panting, I lea
ned my head against Jake’s neck, feeling a mix of emotions. Like pieces of leather, we fit together in more ways than one. The job couldn’t go on forever; I’d known that from the start. But that didn’t make me feel any better. I dipped my head. I wasn’t going to cry. Not in front of Jake anyway.
Jake stroked his fingers through my hair. “Hey, Ellie?”
“Mmm?”
“Want to stay on?”
I lifted my head, anticipation fluttering in my belly. “What do you mean?”
“Be my partner…”
A smile bubbled on my lips. “Business or pleasure?”
Laughing, Jake ran his hands over my ass and gave me a squeeze. “Both.”
Grinding my ass against him, I grinned. “Yeah, you’re on.”
We sealed the deal with a kiss. And a sleepless night of hot sex.
Six months later and I’m still here at the shop. We came second in the competition and since then, things have only gotten better. Now the shop’s filled with customers, and Jake and I work together at the bench making all kinds of shoes.
Of course we always have fun testing them out first….
THE PUB OWNER’S DAUGHTER
Alegra Verde
The pub owner’s daughter was a comely wench, fair of face and full of body. She was his only child. His wife had died in the birthing bed, but he loved his daughter no less for being the cause of it. She was his gift, one destined for joy and bounty, a girl child to care for him in his old age. When he tired of slinging grog, she would be his balm, his reward for a life spent serving up ale to wharf rats and hardened crooks. He need only keep her well and not cage her, as fathers were wont to do with their female children. An old woman had said as much on the eve of his daughter’s birth.
Their lives were not unhappy. There was more than mopping up the slop left behind and lending ears to sad sods; there was laughter, and even camaraderie in the dank hole that they inhabited. However, the promise of a just reward while he yet breathed warmed him, and more, knowing that his only child would not end her days on the wharf lightened even his darkest days.
The old woman who blessed his daughter with the prophecy had wandered in off the dock just as his wife was bearing down, the bed awash in red. There had been no physician or midwife. He hadn’t been able to get one to venture into the stews that late at night, so he’d been glad to see the wizened face nearly hidden in the misshapen shawl. She was a woman and had to know more about these things than he did.
She had scooped the bloody babe up from between his wife’s spent thighs and said, “Call her Treasure for she will bring you riches.” She had stayed to clean and comfort his dying wife and had taught him how to prepare a sugar tit for the bawling babe. As he sat there cradling the suckling newborn, she’d said, “Don’t hold her in. Let her have her head. She will find her way.” She pressed her palm on the babe’s abdomen, chanted words in a foreign tongue and said, “There, I’ve locked it. When it’s opened properly, riches and true contentment shall be yours.” With that, she wrapped the shapeless shawl around her head and shoulders and pressed past the blustery wind out into the darkness and pouring rain.
When Treasure became a woman and took her first lover, her father balked silently, but he neither admonished her nor killed the man, as he wanted to do. He remembered the old woman’s words, “Let her have her head,” and he bit his tongue and kept watch until the man, boots in hand, fumbled past him well before dawn.
He wondered if the old woman had meant it in this way. In all other things, Treasure was a good and dutiful daughter, perfectly malleable and respectful.
“Father,” said Treasure, having shooed the man from her bed after his first effort and after rejecting even his most fervent pleas and promises to allow him a second chance. “There was no relief. I know there is more to this thing and I must find it.”
It was then that she began her search. At the end of each week, she would stroll through the pub in search of a likely man. If she found one that she fancied, she took him to her room and there they stayed until morning, the sound of their lovemaking ringing throughout the narrow taproom. The men who hadn’t been chosen would suck on their mugs listening intently and longingly to the pounding headboard as it banged against the wall, the grunts and groans the lucky man made as he gave it his best and his cry of pleasure as he came long and hard. But, they never heard more than a mewl or a whimper from Treasure because she never came.
Before long, word spread that the pub owner’s daughter, the comely Treasure, chose a man to bed at the end of every week from amongst her father’s patrons. Men came from far and wide to be among the patrons on selection night. Some came earlier in the week hoping to attract her eye. Others brought gifts of cloth, flowers, fowl, spices and all manner of things that could be smuggled off the ships that lined the docks. One large dark-skinned man who wore a beard and a turban brought her a live lamb with a thick blue ribbon about its neck for a leash. She accepted the gift, as she graciously did all the other offerings, and gave him a kiss on his forehead, but she did not select him. He brought a full bolt of crimson silk the next week, but a thin fellow with almond eyes from the East was chosen.
She had no particular type. Tall, short, robust or pale, dark hair, no hair, she seemed to like them all. The only consistent factor was cleanliness. They had to be washed, an element that caused a run on the public bathhouses at week’s end and improved the pub’s air.
“It’s not working,” she said one night to her father as he counted coins. “In all these months, I have gained no relief.”
“Daughter,” he said. “This thing is of your choosing. If you choose not to continue, then so be it.”
So for the next few weeks Treasure served ale, flirted with many men who grinned up at her, and even joined in their bawdy songs, but she did not choose one to take upstairs to her bed.
Soon word got around, as it often does, that none of the men on which she had bestowed her favors had pleased her. The men grumbled about this amongst themselves, each assuring the other or the room at large that he was the one to please her. They boasted to each other and sometimes, after a few drinks, to her of their prowess, claiming to have uncanny abilities with their tongues or fingers. One old man promised a delight with his toes that he had learned in his travels to uncharted parts of Asia. More often than not, they padded their codpieces claiming to have an appendage the size of which she had never seen or felt. They would stroke themselves and she would smile, nod and slide their newly filled mugs onto the table before slipping away.
One day the woman in the misshapen shawl appeared. She found a bench in a corner and when Treasure approached she bade her sit with her for a moment. And Treasure, who never sat with the customers, slid easily onto the bench beside the woman.
The old woman began, “I attended your birth and washed your mother before she was put into the ground. I promised her that I would help you find what you needed in this world.” She patted Treasure’s arm. “Tell me child. How do you fare?”
Treasure looked at the woman whose warm eyes soothed and suddenly feeling no shame, spoke freely. “I lust after men but can find no relief. For long months, I have chosen a man each week and taken him to my bed but have found no release.”
“How have you chosen these men?”
“In the beginning I chose men who were fair of face with full heads of hair that smiled on me with laughter in their eyes.
“They were always eager and before we reached the top of the stairs their appendage would be at full tilt. Within seconds, I’d be on my back, my skirts over my head, and they would be shouting their relief while I lay wet and sticky.
“I tried the beefy ones next. Some had big cocks, others not so. Some wanted to ride me until dawn. Others were like the pretty ones, quick and messy.
“The small wiry ones were more inventive. They liked to suckle my breasts and some placed kisses on my sex. One licked and kissed my sex for hours before producing a leather-clad faux
appendage. He confessed that he was a eunuch and because he had no sac was unable to obtain an erection. However, he assured me he had pleasured many women when he served in the harem. Alas, I found no relief through his ministrations though he tried well into the wee hours.”
“You must not give up child,” the old woman said patting Treasure’s hand. “You will know relief…and joy. I promise you this. This time is for learning the ways of men, for weeding out the chaff, for discovering what you truly need.”
“If you say so, mistress.”
“Soon child, soon.” With that, the woman took her leave.
To the joy of her father’s patrons, Treasure chose a man that week. He was a ship’s captain, tall and agile, and proved to be a measured and methodical lover.
He undressed her slowly, then himself so that she could feast on the beauty of his lean body and the perfection of his aroused penis. He sucked at her breasts, each in its turn, leaving the nipples tight and wet and slightly chilled. Then he feasted on the rest of her body, his lips and tongue nipping and sucking at her resilient skin, teasing her inner thighs with the tip of his tongue, and pulling the sensitive labia into his mouth with gently applied teeth.
When he took her, it was sharp and hard. His sex, like a well-directed battering ram, pushed through her tight, moist opening to find itself well entrenched in the heat of moist flesh. He seemed lost in her body, his eyes closed, his lips pressed tight as he moved.
“Treasure,” he groaned her name as he rode her. “Treasure.” She held on, her hand at his shoulders, her eyes watching him, and it was good, better than it had ever been, but she found no relief.
When he came, filling her with his relief, she held him and let him shower her face with kisses. He pulled her to him, her back to his front and they slept like that for a while, but when he asked if he could come again she told him no.
She took a few more lovers after the captain, but none neared the pleasure she felt with him and none brought her relief. She considered that maybe she’d made a mistake not having invited the captain back. Maybe he warranted a second try. But some instinct told her to stay her course. He had not been the first to vie for more. Several, having found pleasure with her, had offered, nay demanded, that she leave this life and make one with them. They would not hold her past against her, they vowed. One had tried to spirit her away in the night and her father, who always guarded her more diligently on selection night, had to use the cudgel he kept in his pocket for unruly customers. No, men were territorial and she couldn’t risk it with the captain. The old woman had promised that she would find relief. She must continue her journey.
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