At ten thirty he had a break between appointments, and despite the nicotine patch on his arm, he took advantage of a few free minutes to sneak out the back door of his office and light a cigarette. He had been doing well, but as November drew to a close and business picked up he had found himself more and more wanting to sneak out to what had once been a backyard to have a Marlboro. He had bought a pack of reds to maximize the amount of nicotine he could get from a single cigarette.
She had made the appointment under her maiden name. It had sounded familiar, but he couldn't place it, not until he opened his office door and asked the young girl he paid to Instagram for eight hours a day the three days each week he saw clients in the office to send in his next appointment. When she stood up, he couldn't believe it. He hadn't seen her in years, and now he had seen her twice in the same week. Monday at the grocery store and now, today, in his office.
He welcomed her happily but tentatively. There was an awkward moment as they worked out whether they would shake hands or hug. He ended up taking her hand in both of his and just holding it a moment. Finally, he stretched an arm out toward her desk and pointed her inside. She stood by one of the chairs. He wasn't sure, but he had the distinct impression she was shaking.
He left the door open as he always did when he saw women clients and walked back to the high backed leather chair behind the desk that was more old than antique.
"Can I close this?" she asked. It startled him when she spoke. He realized they were the first words she'd said. He had done all the talking.
"Sure," he said, trying to keep his voice cheerful.
She was a tall woman who, when his wife had asked, he had described as "not unattractive." Truthfully, he found her almost irresistible. A long time ago she had been his wife's best friend. For a short time He and his wife, she and her husband, had socialized. They had met for happy hours, gone to dinner, bought tickets for a New Years Eve cruise and even planned to go to Las Vegas together for a long weekend.
She was wearing a long red dress he knew well. It was her go-to dress. It looked casual with flipflops and dressy with heels. He watched her ass shift through the thin satiny material as she closed, latched, and then tugged on the door. Satisfied she turned back to him.
"I know you do your books. What can I help with? You run into something sensitive?"
She smiled a little and looked at him. "You could say that," she replied. She stepped towards the chair he had expected to sit in but remained standing.
"You should call Susan. She would love to hear from you, I am sure. You guys should go get a drink. I think she has been lonely lately."
"I bet," the tall blonde scoffed. She still smiled, but there was something in her eyes.
As he tried to figure out what was going on, she moved her hands up her body as if smoothing out wrinkles until they crossed at her chest and she had one hand on either shoulder. His breath caught in his throat when she tugged at her dress, pulled it off her shoulders, and then shifted her weight slowly from one hip to the other as it drifted down her body like a leaf in the wind. The moment felt as though it lasted an eternity. Finally, she stood posed alluringly wearing nothing but red lace panties, a matching bra, and strappy silver high heeled shoes.
Her legs seemed to go on forever, and he thought about the highway outside of El Paso, endless, curving gently one way and back the next sensually making its way across the desert.
"Jennifer..." he said, neither a statement nor a question.
"This is going to be difficult," she said flatly, her eyes cast upon the floor. "But, please, don't stop me. I have to do this."
She began to saunter toward him making her way around the end of his desk until she approached where he sat. He had slowly turned watching her. He loved the way she moved. He loved to watch the muscles in her legs flex with each step. He loved to watch the softer parts of her jiggle gently as her foot would fall on the floor. He loved the clip cloppy should of her heels on the wood floor, and although he did not intend to let happen whatever it was she intended to happen the shape of her, and the promise represented by the state of her undress had aroused him. He hoped it wasn't obvious.
"Jennifer..." he tried again. She placed her finger on his lips. The nail was long, red, and immaculately manicured. "Jenn..." he said through muffled lips. She pressed the finger into his mouth. It was a sensual deviant sort of thing to do and his cock pulsed in his pants.
"Shhh."
She moved to her knees between his feet. Her back was long and lean. Her blonde hair was a curly tangled sort of mess. She removed her finger from his mouth and used her long fingers to work loose his belt and trousers.
"Stand up," she whispered, keeping her eyes down in a hyper-submissive way that made him feel bad about himself in some very personal way because of how good he suddenly felt. He felt good in a bad way. He felt good in a way he hadn't in a long time.
She took his cock in her mouth. Her tongue danced around the crown as she sucked on just the head of his dick and then, very slowly and intentionally began to slide her lips down his shaft.
She paused halfway and swallowed nervously and then moved her hands from his cock to his ass. She opened her eyes wide looking up at him and then pulled him to her pressing his cock slowly deeper into her mouth.
She gagged, and he pulled back. She reacted by gripping his ass firmly with her fingernails. He froze holding himself still, and it was left to her to move forward. She gagged again, swallowed again, and pressed her eyes closed in concentration.
She was not to be stopped. She was determined to accomplish it, and after backing away for a moment, she pressed forward taking him deeper until he came to a stop.
It wasn't enough. She adjusted how she rested on her calves sitting up and forward and then pulled again gagging, choking, swallowing, torturing his cock until her lips were pressed to the tuft of hair at the base of his dick.
She held the position for a moment and then released him rocking backward until he sprung free of her and she could gasp for breath.
"I have never done that before," she whispered. She ran her fingers up and down his dick staring at it. "I want you to teach me. I want you to... make me."
"Teach you what?" he asked in shock. "Make you what?"
"Everything," she said, her eyes gazing up at him. She worked her mouth around his cock again and apparently, having said everything she intended to went to work.
Her mouth was warm and wet, welcoming, and she tortured him. The whole process was so slow and diligent it was as if it was scripted.
It was a set-up, he was sure. It was a plot hatched by his wife to take another $75 per month or some such nonsense in the settlement.
It was hard to be angry.
She was delightful. She was a sweet girl, he knew. She was in a tough spot, he had heard. She was undeniably desirable. She was in lace lingerie. She was also trying so hard.
