Monday morning in the office. Cleo is at her desk and already working assiduously when her two colleagues, Julie, and Kelly, arrive. Late as usual, with a perfunctory nod of greeting, they go straight to the adjacent kitchen to make coffee and gossip.
"Good weekend, babe."
"Brill, went clubbing."
"We partied at home. Know what I mean?"
"Not like Ms. Mouse in the corner, I'm guessing."
I can hear you, thinks Cleo, keeping schtum; but won't let on, it's much more interesting to eavesdrop.
In fact, her weekend had been far from either ordinary or boring. 'Ms. Mouse' isn't wide of the mark though, concedes Cleo, given her deliberately dull office attire. Chosen to both fade into the background and avoid fashion faux pas like Julie's all-too-revealing hemline; she really shouldn't wear that skirt with such a substantial arse. And as for Kelly, nails like talons, more slap than a plasterer, and no way a real blonde. Enough bitchy observations, Cleo's thoughts turn to recent memorable events...
You'll do very well, was her first impression upon meeting Miles at the exhibition. Unusually, his real-life good looks matched the head and shoulders shot on his online profile; business just might be a pleasure. Miles was equally impressed with Cleo and so, in her opinion, he bloody well should be. She put a lot of effort into looking classily sexy - the trick being to suggest, not flaunt her charms. A flattering dress and underneath - although he didn't yet know - silky lingerie and black stockings. The latter is rather a cliche it's true, but Cleo has yet to meet a man resistant to their allure. If anything signalled the intended outcome of this assignation, it was the killer combination of nylons and heels.
Linking arms, they viewed paintings and sculptures, exchanged polite nods with other gallery visitors but kept to themselves. Miles inhaled a subtle hint of Chanel No. 5, redolent with erotic promise, while Cleo was thrilled at the proximity of a trim male body in an expensive bespoke suit.
"Quick in here, there's something else you'll want to see," said Cleo, dragging her date into a discreet alcove. The building, a modernist masterpiece, is notorious for visitors getting lost, fortunately, she knows it well.
Pulling him from the line of sight of any passer-by, Cleo crouched, revealing unambiguously what was beneath her dress. Caressing his crotch, she felt Mile's manhood become instantly erect, freed his impressively proportioned penis, and enveloped it with her mouth. Flicked her tongue around the bell end, one hand cradling his balls, the other encircling the shaft. Caught unawares, Miles was astonished and ecstatic as, with practised skill, Cleo took his straining cock ever deeper before teasingly lifting her head. Smiled at his look of disappointment. "Don't fret darling man, I'm not finished yet." Reached to undo a zip and shimmied down the top of her dress, scooped her tits from a half-cut bra, and enfolded his pulsing prick with her cleavage. "Who's a lucky boy," Cleo murmured rhetorically, arching an eyebrow, "a BJ and a tit fuck on a first date." Lost to the throes of lust, Mile's excitement approached a predictably messy conclusion. Opening her mouth into a wide O, Cleo encompassed his entire cock, adeptly swallowing his outpouring lot before salaciously licking her lips.
