Betwixt Natasha

by E V Daymuir

  Lucinda Lovebrace was a single woman in her early thirties, with two great passions – money and sex, and an insatiable appetite for both. She spoke with a distinct upper class accent and was obviously well educated. She had a broad vocabulary but chose to litter her speech with choice Anglo Saxon expletives, which, in her plumy accent, sounded perfectly acceptable. Due to her chosen lifestyle, rather than her profanities, the well-connected Benningham-Smythe’s, a highly respected in the elite world of private banking, were greatly relieved when she changed her name to Lovebrace and traded as Anita von Beta.

  Lucinda appreciated Julie Bunford for her good sense and work ethic and showed her appreciation by paying well over the going rate for her services. But, as Julie Bunford would readily admit, ten hours a week was more than enough to clean for a single woman, even allowing for the size of the penthouse, a daily change of sheets on her queen size bed and polishing all the carefully angled wall mirrors in the windowless bedroom. She never touched the one in the ceiling.

  In her second week, Julie had been rather shocked to find a large black dildo lying on the bedside rug. The discovery put her in something of a quandary. If she left it where it was, or kicked it under the bed, she would be neglecting her cleaning duties. On the other hand, if she tidied it away in the wrong drawer, Miss Lovebrace would know she had found it and might, heaven forbid, even think she had used it on herself. She shuddered at the thought as her hand hovered over the right hand bedside table. One of her golden rules was never to open bedside drawers. Discovering something, which was no concern of hers, could present all sorts of problems. However, on this occasion she had little option. She gingerly tugged at the handle and the drawer slid smoothly open to reveal – an unopened pack of ribbed condoms – a bottle of Horny Goat Weed tablets – two bubble packs of AA size batteries (one pack open with two batteries missing) – and a tube of vaginal lubricant.

  She walked to the other side of the bed, tugging and smoothing the faux fur bedspread as she went. The drawer in that bedside table contained a range of brightly coloured sex toys, laid neatly in a row and graded according to size. Unlike the enormous black dildo, they all appeared to be battery operated. There was an empty space at the end of the row, which looked right for the dildo and she was about to put it back in its place, when she noticed a small plastic bottle of ‘Sex Toy Cleaning Fluid’ at the back of the drawer. Cleaning material, of any description, meant only one thing to Julie Bunford – something had to be cleaned. She unscrewed the cap, dribbled a trail of the fluid along the full length of the dildo and with her index finger encased in a yellow duster, worked the fluid around its impressive girth. Then, wrapping the duster around the full circumference, she cleaned the dildo with long vigorous strokes. As she was sitting on the edge of the bed, with the non-business end of the dildo resting on her thigh, she was conscious that anyone coming into the room might have wondered what she was hoping to achieve.

  With the dildo cleaned to her satisfaction, which meant it had taken on the lustre of a well-polished piece of ebony, she carefully set it down in its allotted space. There were eight sex toys, one for each day of the week and two for Sunday. She laughed at her own little joke. She considered herself broadminded but failed to understand why Miss Lovebrace, who was such a clever and successful businesswoman, could possibly have a need for such things. Sex for Julie Bunford was not a joy but a duty. She had been married for nineteen years to Peter Bunford, an engineer at Meltcon. Following the birth of Rebecca, she vowed never to go through the experience again. The truth was she never did enjoy sex, yet she found herself intrigued by Miss Lovebrace, who seemed to live for it. The mirrored wardrobe door, next to the bedside table with the sex toys in, was always locked. What could be in there didn‘t bear thinking about, although, she had a warning of sorts when she took the job. Charlie Bell, a good friend from school days and the concierge at Laburnham Court, called to say that the woman in the penthouse was looking for someone trustworthy and discreet to clean for her. He intimated that it was a strange set-up, but that in his case, turning a blind eye was well rewarded. So, if Julie wanted the job, it would be best not to ask too many questions.

  Julie was surprised, pleased, and extremely flattered when Miss Lovebrace suggested they go into business together. It was an unbelievably good deal. Miss Lovebrace would make all the necessary start-up investment for the office cleaning business but they were to be equal partners, sharing any profit on a fifty-fifty basis. She would also be paid hourly for her time at the same excellent rate she received from Miss Lovebrace for cleaning the penthouse. The most astonishing suggestion of all was that Miss Lovebrace would help with the office cleaning and not charge the company one penny for her time. Julie thought that very strange, but who was she to argue? Thanks to a twelve-month contract to clean the offices of Travel Plan, the business was up and running within four weeks. Travel Plan was one of the most successful package holiday companies in the country. Julie had no idea how Lucinda Lovebrace managed to win the contract, but it all worked brilliantly. She was responsible for cleaning the twelfth, thirteenth and fourteenth floors and Miss Lovebrace looked after the directors’ offices on the fifteenth. With such a big increase in her weekly earnings, she would have been quite happy to clean all floors, but Miss Lovebrace insisted, arguing that the business was a partnership and until it was established enough to employ someone else, she would help out. After only one week of working together, she also insisted on first name terms – Julie and Lucy.

  *****

  The sweet, sickly smell of chocolate from the Meltcon factory was heavy in the air. It was something everyone living and working in the vicinity grew accustomed to. Lucinda Lovebrace stood by the corner window in the sales director’s office, a vantage point with an unrestricted view towards the Trading Estate entrance and the road from Hamsworth. She had some business other than cleaning to attend to, but having been almost caught in the act a couple of months previously, she proceeded with great caution. It had been a long hot summer and they were in the middle of yet another heat wave. Yesterday’s storm had cleared the air but she could not risk being discovered by another insomniac director, arriving early. Her sensuous lips twitched into a half smile as she remembered the events of that dawn encounter.

  Barrie Billingsgate woke before four on that June morning. It had been a hot and humid night. Sleep was difficult enough, but with an incredibly hard cock and a wife who was hot, bothered and not interested in sex, it proved impossible. He still had an erection, but he always had one first thing in the morning – nothing new there. He turned over and poked it into the small of Natasha’s back, half-hoping she would awake in a sexual feeding frenzy. He imagined her on top, riding him with a long slow rotating motion, lifting on the top of the arc until only the very tip of his ‘old boy’, was gripped by the muscular walls of her marvellous pussy. Then, she would slide down to derive maximum pleasure from his magnificent cock. After teasing herself in this fashion for some time, she would be unable to contain herself and would start grinding down on him in short savage strokes, her wonderful breasts bobbing and jiggling and her erect nipples contra rotating, (he must remember to buy her some tassels) the strokes getting shorter and shorter until, rubbing her pubis frantically against his, she would scream before collapsing onto him with a loud moan, her juices washing down the thick stem of his cock and drenching his balls.

  Now his erection was so hard it was painful to touch. Had one ever snapped off? He had to do something to avert a tragedy of such mammoth proportions. Easing down in the bed, he pushed his ‘old boy’ firmly between the cheeks of Natasha’s buttocks. She responded immediately.

  'Get that thing out of my bum!'

  'But you like it. You want it really.'

  'No, I don’t want it really.' She mimicked the whine in his voice.

  'Oh, come on Tash. I’ll be quick.'

  Natasha jerked round onto her back, hitting Barrie on the ear with an outstretched arm in the process. />
  'Ouch, that hurt!'

  'So, does having that thing of yours stuck in my back! You’ve been prodding away with it all night. It’s difficult enough to sleep as it is. I’m hot. I’m tired and I don’t want it. Now, you can take a cold shower, go downstairs and sleep on the sofa, or go to work. I don’t care what you do as long as you leave me alone!'

  'But Tash, you know I’ll have a headache if I don’t get it.' He reached out to run his hand down over her smooth soft stomach, hoping to find and push the right button.

  'Barrie, get your hand off me! You seem to have difficulty taking no for an answer, so let me spell it out. I do not want sex. I do not want you to make love to me. Nor do I want, as you so crudely put it, ‘a good seeing to’, all I want is to be left alone – to sleep.' Natasha turned her back on him, but not, without first taking the precaution of wrapping herself in the duvet.

  'How can you say you’re hot when you cover yourself up like that? Have you gone off sex or something?'

  'Barrie, stop whining. You know I like sex, but I would also like a little romance. I did not want sex last night and I don’t want it this morning. Now, give it a rest. Go away and take that thing of yours with you.'

  He rolled onto his back and reached down to stroke his ‘old boy’. The trouble was that once erect, it needed satisfying. He had lost count of the number of times he had walked past scantily clad telesales girls in the office that summer, holding a strategically placed clipboard. It was no fun having a massively stiff prick and nowhere to put it. He might just as well go to work; there was plenty to do and when Natasha said no, she usually meant it. Trouble was she was saying no too often recently. A bit different from when they married just over a year ago. With a loud theatrical sigh, he rolled out of bed and stamped off to the bathroom.

  *****

  Ever since the first day of the Travel Plan cleaning contract, Lucinda Lovebrace had tried to log onto the sales director’s computer. The only reason for being there was to gain access to the Travel Plan database. This morning she was using football themed passwords. She typed in ARSENAL – entrance denied. She was about to type in BLACKBURN, when the lift mechanism jolted into action with a solid clunk. It settled into a steady whine as the lift descended. Who could be calling for the lift at this hour? She checked her watch. Five minutes past six. It would not be Douglas, (call me Duggie) Lummox, the Chief Executive Officer of Travel Plan. He came in at seven; you could set your watch by Duggie. She avoided him as much as possible, not that she would not have sex with him. With her need for men she would take them in all shapes and sizes and despite Duggie‘s ratty appearance, not helped by greasy swept back hair and yellowing teeth, she rather fancied him. Perhaps it was something to do with having read that rats fuck thirty times or more a day. It would be fun to find out if he could live up to his ratty appearance. But, not wishing to jeopardise the contract until the information she wanted was in her hands, she had avoided temptation. Anyway, this was definitely too early, for Duggie and Julie would never go down to the ground floor to get the express lift to the fifteenth, she would dash up the stairs. So who was it? Better play safe and switch off the computer. She clicked on ‘close’ and waited. The lift mechanism re-activated. Someone was on the way up and the computer was not responding. She tried clicking on ‘close’ again, but the cursor was stuck. Frantically moving the mouse backwards and forwards and from side to side had no effect – the computer had frozen with the evidence of her nocturnal activity on screen for anyone to see. The lift stopped and she heard the doors open. Whoever was in that lift was only the length of the corridor away. She had no more than a few seconds. Don’t panic! Think! Think! She snatched the framed photograph of an attractive young woman from its place next to the in-tray and scrambled under the desk, just managing to locate and pull the plug on the computer as the office door opened.

  Barrie Billingsgate was confronted with a delectable vision, which made him think life could be most unfair. After almost ten hours with a solid erection, his ‘old boy’ was, at last, under control. Then, in his own office, where he should be safe from temptation, one of the shapeliest female backsides he had ever laid eyes on was jutting out from under his desk. He coughed loudly to let the owner know he was there. Appearing surprised and flustered, the woman banged her head on the underside of his desk. She had his favourite photograph of Natasha in her left hand and made an exaggerated show of keeping it off the floor as she crawled out backwards from under the desk. As she moved, her white coat rode-up to reveal a gorgeous pair of tanned legs topped by a tantalising glimpse of white lace. Blood gushed back into his penis!

  Lucinda Lovebrace knew exactly what she was doing. She wriggled out further than necessary, before twisting into a sitting position. With legs splayed and one knee raised, the white coat barely covered her tanned midriff and the elastic in her flimsy lace panties stretched away from the raised leg to reveal a patch of dark pubic hair and a glimpse of pink labia. She looked coyly up at Barrie Billingsgate, before removing her headscarf and shaking out lustrous brown hair, which cascaded down over slim shoulders. She dropped the headscarf and held out a hand.

  'Mr Billingsgate I presume?'

  Mesmerised by a pair of unfathomable brown eyes in a classically beautiful face, he could only nod and extend his hand. She took it and levered herself into a kneeling position, her face level with the fast expanding bulge in his trousers. She watched it grow for several seconds before looking up at him with a knowing, lustful smile.

  'I’m Lucy, the office cleaner.' She handed the photograph up to him. 'Sorry about that. Knocked it off your desk as I was having a final dust.'

  She did not sound much like a cleaner. Not that he would necessarily know how a typical cleaner spoke, but her accent was definitely up market. He took the photo and made a cursory examination of the frame.

  'That’s okay, nothing broken.'

  'Who is she?'

  'My wife, Natasha.' He laid the photograph face down on the desk, which told her all she needed to know.

  'I’m Barrie – Barrie Billingsgate, pleased to meet you.'

  She smiled up at him. 'I won’t make the obvious reply to that.'

  He looked down past the smile into her cleavage. Her breasts were unsupported and magnificent. Somewhat larger and fuller than Natasha’s but every bit as shapely. He would be very happy to look down on that cleavage all day except his ‘old boy’ was beginning to obstruct the view. Embarrassed, he drew away, but she quickly put both hands around the back of his thighs and pulled him back.

  'Does this hot weather effect you the same as it affects me?' She kissed and nibbled at the tip of his swollen penis through the thin fabric of his summer suit. As he struggled for an answer, she stood up moving her right hand to the front of his trousers and kissed him with an open mouth. He squirmed to her touch, her sweet breath heightening his excitement. 'It makes me steamy and right now there are two things I would like, Barrie.' Her voice dropped an octave; it was husky and incredibly sexy.

  'What are they?'

  'Your magnificent cock inside me and a glass of water.' She gave his testicles a gentle squeeze. 'It will have to be water first I‘m afraid. I’m desperate for sex, but we don’t want me dying of thirst half way through – do we?' His mumbled reply was indistinct as he ran towards the door. As he disappeared, she ducked swiftly under the desk and pushed the computer plug back into its socket.

  When Barrie Billingsgate returned, with what little water he had managed to retain in the cup, he was bitterly disappointed to find that the gorgeous creature, who promised so much, had gone. The bird had flown. He looked hopefully under the desk, but the space she had previously occupied was empty. He sighed. Not another clipboard day!

  Then, with a creak and a groan his high back, black leather executive chair, swung around and there she was smiling at him, her white coat unbuttoned and folded back to a point where she might as well not have been wearing it at all. Her breasts were truly magnificent. Uns
upported they curved upward with long erect nipples pointing dagger like towards the ceiling. He lurched towards her, spilling yet more water in the process. She nonchalantly dropped the lace panties dangling from the forefinger of her right hand.

  'Come on big boy.' She took the cup from his hand, drank what little water was left and watched in amusement as he desperately fumbled at his belt. After tossing the paper cup into the waste paper basket, she brushed his hands away and expertly unfastened the buckle. Trousers and underpants were pulled down in one deft movement and his unfettered penis sprang out, almost striking her on the nose. She took it in both hands, playfully running her tongue around the rim of the bulbous head before guiding it down towards her vagina. To accommodate her he had to sink to his knees. Half the length of his striving penis slipped into her, it felt wonderful and welcoming, but the edge of the seat prevented deeper penetration – she was in complete control. She gave him a wicked smile. 'Take it easy big boy. We haven’t much time, but I want to come at least twice, how about you?' As he grunted his agreement, she eased gently forward in the seat until the rim of his penis rubbed against the right spot. She groaned, took his hand and guided it to where she wanted it to go. There was no difficulty in locating her clitoris – it was large and prominent. She gave him a smile of encouragement, but her teeth were clenched, almost in a grimace. There was a hint of desperation in that smile.

  'You can’t hurt me down there, Barrie. Rub it – please rub it. Rub it hard!'

  Taking her clitoris between his thumb and forefinger, he massaged in time with his restricted thrusts. Her groans turned to a whimper as she pleaded with him.