All rights reserved. No parts of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form without the written permission of the copyright holder.
This is a work of fiction and any similarity with real persons or events is entirely coincidental.. All characters are over the age of 18.
WARNING: This story contains explicit erotica not suitable for puritans, those under 18 and anyone of a nervous disposition.
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Chapter One
"NEXT!"
Stormbringer's bellow echoed through his office and out into the corridor where an apparently endless stream of hopefuls waited to be interviewed. He sighed and buried his head into the mound of paperwork which littered his desk, vaguely aware of the door opening and closing again. Maybe he should have insisted on his more descriptive advert, but the newspaper refused to publish it and no doubt the PC brigade would have been all over him for some feminist issue or other. What he had wanted to say was 'Well-stacked, sexy young lady of outstanding beauty and indifferent morals required to introduce visitors to the best in hot erotic art and stories'. But what he had finally been forced to draft before the paper would run the ad simply read 'Hostess needed to greet visitors to a modern art and literary publishing house'.
So of course he ended up with a line-up of everything from failed art students to elderly blue-stockings who looked as though they might have modelled for Picasso. Assuming Picasso's paintings were actually true to life portrayals of his subjects, of course. Three hours into the interviews and he was no nearer finding the person he wanted and, apparently, no nearer the end of hopeful applicants either.
"Sit! Name?" he grunted without looking up.
"Ethel Ramsbladder, sir" The voice was bright and innocent but he could just picture someone who walked around with a name like that. The sigh was deeper this time as he sorted through the heap of papers and found the correct application form. There it was... blah, blah, blah... 24... blah, blah, blah... hairdresser... blah, blah, blah... some modelling work...' Probably for elastic stockings, he thought sourly to himself as he looked up...
...and found his brain jolted to a sudden halt that had apparently removed both the power of speech and the ability to move.
Pink shoulder-length hair framed a pair of wide green cat eyes that regarded him tremulously, long eyelashes batting attractively to briefly hide them every few seconds. A guy could drown in orbs like that and never reach for a life raft. The pert nose had just a hint of freckles to save it from being too faultless and the mouth... if god had done a better job of creating a mouth whose pouting perfection was specifically designed to make any male within a hundred yards imagine how its lush lips would look spread around their cock; well he had yet to see it.
"Jee...!" The power of speech returned, though not necessarily accompanied by coherence. But at least his eyes could pick their way out of those limpid green pools and drag themselves onto dry land; dry land that was inevitably, automatically, southwards.
The neck was faultless but... a small frown of disappointment... those tits in the brief wrap-around top were just too large and too perfect to be real. They detracted from his enjoyment of a scrutiny which was already taking too long, causing the girl to shift uncomfortably in her chair. Shift and resettle a bottom that had to be small and taut judging by slender hips and long, slim legs which were almost completely revealed by a matching lilac miniskirt so short he was sure there was a brief flash of darker purple about where the vee of Ethel's thighs would meet together.
"Errr... Mr Stormbringer... sir..."
Reluctantly his eyes made the uphill journey, crossing the gap where a gentle curve of exposed belly flesh was dimpled by a cute navel; up over the mountainous peaks of her (sigh... false... why couldn't girls stay with what nature gave them?) breasts and back to the verdant green oases of her eyes.
"Miss Ramsbladder..." He almost choked over the name. That would have to go! Go? Well sure, he was going to give her the job wasn't he? She was almost too perfect for it. Well-stacked, hot, and he could always work on her morals later. A girl like that must get propositioned hundreds of times a day and probably became cynical, if not outright annoyed by it. Still, she would be worth every cent of the money he was paying even if she did no more than stand at the door and smile for anyone who came visiting. But he couldn't tell her to dismiss the other applicants just yet. That would make him look stupid and tell her he was only employing her for her body. Not a good start at all.
"Miss Ramsbladder," he tried again. "It doesn't look as if you have had much relevant experience, does it?"