Pillow Talk

Erotic Tales

Alliance Series – Ball In Your Court

Faithful Readers,

A new year starts for Pillow Talk Press and with it two new projects. One project is called “Toy Chest” and you will just have to wait a little longer for that reveal.

But my dearest friends, I am thrilled and pleased beyond belief to share with you the first entry of this wonderful collection of stories – inspired by the joys of blind collaboration – called “Alliance Series”.

These stories go back and forth without discussion or planning leaving the plot to develop in rather surprising ways.

The ever talented blogger and erotic writer Smokedawg agreed to be the first and I must admit the thrill of this story was enormous. To work with such talent, to not know where the story was going to go – not to mention the fun of trying to outmaneuver and surprise the other … made this more fun than I ever anticipated. More important, the quality of this story is such that I am beyond proud to share it with you.

Enjoy it, and see if you can see where my entries began and where smokedawg took over etc. I believe our styles flowed and merged most perfectly.

As such … please … without further delay:

Pillow Talk Press Presents – an Alliance Series Tale

Ball In Your Court

By Fantasia Lillith and Smokedawg

 

She bent over, giving him a wonderful view of her tight muscles and infinitely long legs. She grinned into her own cleavage, taking her time picking up the ball, knowing full well his eyes would be going where his hands so urgently desired to caress. She had only taken up tennis because she found the outfits cute; the fact that she had a wicked and terrifying back hand was just one of those accidental talents she added to her repertoire.

The fabric fluttered in the breeze and just as it threatened to reveal more than a glimpse of her glorious ass – she stood and shouted: “2 Love”

“She’s playing to win the game,” he thought. “There isn’t any doubt of that. But what else is she playing at now?”

He’d started encouraging her to join him for tennis nearly eight months ago. His own game had never been anything more than a casual thing; a way to get in some exercise and fresh air. She’d had some reluctance at first, but she knew the value of getting in tighter with him socially; as he knew the value of getting to know her better, too.

Both of them had the ear of the company president, but in different ways. They could be competitors, or allies. He preferred the latter, and suspected she would too.

And damn, she looked nice in tennis clothes. Any kind, but especially the ones with skirts, that showed off those glorious legs. Calves taut and smooth, rising up to thighs that had a panther-like quality, controlled power that could grip a man between them in passion, or hurt him if he earned punishment.

He shook his head fiercely at that thought, then realized it was just the thought she wanted to put in his head. Why else bend over so slowly for the ball, with her feline grace, one hip thrust out impertinently in his direction; one sleek muscled thigh fully exposed.

And the way she had held it, when she began to stand. Not just the fact that she held it so near the tempting cleft between her breasts, glistening with a sheen of sweat in this, their final game of their set. Not just the fact that her eyes flickered down to the ball with a possessive glint, even as her mouth curled into an almost imperceptible smile.

No, it was the way her fingers gently tickled and stroked the fuzz of the ball, like she might tease a man’s own testicles.

He felt his own pair tense and heat up, and felt a stirring that tennis shorts were not meant to hide.

And he was grateful that he wore an athletic cup to protect himself from her backhand, as it was the only thing that might camouflage his desire right now.

“I have him right where I want him,” she thought to herself, before stretching out in full length and letting out a powerful grunt followed by an unfortunately predictable serve. The ball came flying back almost out of reach – the bastard was going to make her run for it.

She knew he suspected her ulterior motives. That shake of the head, the uncomfortable shift back and forth to adjust in a socially acceptable manner his “boys.” The flush on his face, and sweat, were from more than just exertion. The glint in his eye and Cheshire cat grin told her that much.

She was playing him – but he was playing her too. She liked him. He was handsome enough, his body perhaps a little softer than she was usually attracted to – but his smile and charisma were magnetic. His mind was what made him so thrilling and for the first time she found herself faced with an intellectual and professional equal. He was well-bred, well-educated and wealthy. Old money to her nouveau-riche status; it drew her in and angered her at the same time.

It was intoxicating to be faced with a man that was neither threatened, nor intimidated, by her. He struck that casual balance of professional respect that had eluded her entire career. That alone had made her change her approach to him from the get go. It unsettled her in many ways. She wasn’t sure what the rules of engagement would be.

The big boss on the other hand, had been easy. He was fundamentally terrified of her – the way a man feels about his prize fighting dog. Kept at arm’s length, yet brought with him everywhere. Kept close to home and released when needed. However, this fine man, sending her volley after volley, was more like the friend that turned out to be a spy. Brilliant at making anyone feel like a long-lost relative and divulging all trade secrets before the first glass was empty. She envied him that skill.

It had almost worked on her. Almost.

She hated to sweat like this, but she hated loosing more. Holding the racket with both hands, she put all her strength into it as the ball came her way. “WHACK” it torpedoed over the net missing it by fractions of an inch and hit her opponent just to the right of his crotch.

A terrifying scream of agony preluded his tall and proud frame falling to the red clay surface. The small cloud of fine rust dust kept her from seeing much, but she knew something was wrong when the ball did not return.

She sauntered over to the other side of the court, standing above him she snickered as he held his upper right thigh and gasped at her for help, tears marking little paths on his dusty face. He was obviously unable to get up and finish the game.

“You forfeit?” she asked, not moving.

He spit out from between wheezes: “Yes … fuck … yes just … help me out here, you ruthless harridan!”

She reached down to give him the leverage to stand, and he grinned lopsidedly, unable to manage a full smile with the pain lancing through his leg. She smiled in return. He had a habit of lapsing into arcane terminology in jest, so he wasn’t angry at least. Not that she doubted her ability to quell his fire even if he had been.

“You know,” he added, hopping over to the fence to lean against it and massage some of the pain away, “if you wanted so badly to stand in front of those people from Brandeis Inc. alone and do the presentation, you could have just asked. No need to cripple me for the chance.”

“Well, I wanted to win the match, too, so two birds with one stone and all that,” she joked.

“Can’t dredge up any sympathy for me, eh?” he asked, taking a deep breath. “My mother warned me about you ‘new money’ types. Said I’d better watch my back. Never occurred to me to watch my front, too.”

“Cry me a river,” she answered with a chuckle. “Hand me your cell phone and I’ll dial your mom for you so she can kiss it and make it better.”

He paused for a moment, words catching in his throat as he caught her eyes, and then he untangled his tongue, and said, eyes half-lidded as he did, “I suppose I’d rather that the perpetrator did the kissing.”

“Fuck … ok … I deserved that…” She blushed a moment yet glowered at the same time. Her eyebrow raised over her right eye in a most stunning arc, she licked her lips in a nervous tell-tale motion that was one of the few to be sensual without her knowing, before her proud persona came back to the surface like the faithful mask it was.

Shit shit shit … he really did like keeping her off kilter. In frustration she punched his shoulder hard sending him mercilessly right back into the fence. She leaned into him then, her breath right up against his full mouth, her heaving breasts against his chest, her hand reached down and cupping his boys she tapped gently the sports cup before pulling away and shouting over her shoulder:

“Suck it up Princess! See you bright and early…”

* * *

With her head high, full of confidence she didn’t feel, she walked away slowly until the doors shut behind her and her swaying ass. She made it to the locker room, undressed slowly lost in thought. In the shower she stood a long time under the endless supply of hot water, a luxury she never got tired of after growing up in a household of eight foster kids with only two bathrooms and one hot water tank. To think she’d been one of the lucky ones.

Her mind was in turmoil. Why did she feel this way around him? Why did she always want to throw herself at him as much as shred him to pieces? Why did she always feel the need to prove her worth to him? To show him how tough she could be? What were these bizarre range of emotions? She shivered under the boiling hot water … he even made her forget proper etiquette. Around him her potty mouth would often come out with a vengeance as if to prove to her that you could take the girl out of the lower classes but…

She started to cry … then giggled … then startled all the other women by laughing loudly and shouting:

“Anyone know what ‘harridan’ means?”

* * *

He sighed when she was halfway to the locker room, half at the sight of her sumptuous ass and half because he felt like an idiot.

What did I expect? That she was going to get down in front of me and kiss me between the thighs?

He closed his eyes and remembered the closeness of her lips, the smell of her breath. After that much tennis, it hadn’t been mint-fresh breath, but neither was it raw. Instead, he thought, it was earthy. Alive. Warm and begging to be sucked into his lungs with a kiss to those lips with their perfect Cupid’s bow curve. He remember the glistening hint of wetness from the fleeting passage of her tongue across them; licked his own at the thought.

He put some weight on his leg, winced only a bit, and started to walk it off. He wished he could kick that tender spot of his himself for having driven her away. How many times had he made her blush when he wanted to make her smile … or, to make her … well, he didn’t know exactly.

“Fuck it, I do know,” he thought. “I know what I want but I shouldn’t be wishing for it. She’s tough enough not to need me. She can swear like a sailor, stride like a model, and speak like an orator. She doesn’t need a flat-assed guy with a belly that couldn’t hold a six-pack shape if his life depended on it. What I have is a trust fund, and she doesn’t need money.”

He showered quickly, dressed and retreated to the cleanest stall he could find to “knock one out.”

The memory of her breath. Her lips. Her breasts. Ass. Legs. Attitude. Voice.

The touch of her fingers, even if it was with a cup in the way.

His balls throbbed at the memory of a touch that wasn’t; still held jealousy for the tennis ball she had fondled instead of them.

“And so the fucking MVP of the business deal slowly jacks himself fantasizing about a woman he can’t have, in a bathroom stall,” he thought. “Right back to high school behavior, except the damned toilet stalls are cleaner. I really am the suave one, aren’t I?”

When he was done, he looked down at his ring finger, and the slight indentation and the paleness that wouldn’t quite go away, even though he’d officially chucked the wedding band nearly three months ago.

* * *

The next day dawned warm and muggy. She hated this type of weather. It always made her feel like she needed to shower again as her blouse stuck to her like some sleazy man at a bar. As soon as she arrived at the boardroom to prepare for the meeting with Brandeis Inc., way ahead of time as usual, she took her jacket off enjoying the air-conditioning and started reviewing the information that had been too sensitive to send ahead for some intern to put out on their massive conference table. She liked this quiet time. She liked meeting the receptionist and security staff, reminding her of her past, how far she had come on her own journey. She always made a point to be nice and encouraging if they seemed at all ambitious. She had mentored a few along the way. Some had been a waste of her time, others had been gems, giving her – in time – eyes and ears inside some of her competitors operations. She hadn’t done that on purpose – but loyalty was a strange beast.

She also knew how fast that could be her again. One bad move and she’d be tossed aside. She’d been told often enough that she was only “as good as her last deal” and she didn’t have a family to lean on if times got tough.

She felt lonely. She certainly had lovers, and many dear friends and rarely spent an evening alone, but the intimacy of a relationship was something that had eluded her. Now, as she entered her mid 30’s, she was bothered by it. It had never mattered, and she certainly wasn’t one to dream of romance or weddings or any of those, in her opinion archaic female goals … she didn’t want kids either … but now, she admitted, albeit begrudgingly and only to herself, that it would be nice to have someone. A pair of arms to hold her, a shoulder to lean on, to actually not be “the strong one” for herself from time to time. To let someone be there for her. Could she even do that? Was she capable?

A man that let her be who she really was … to feel safe and let her guard down.

God she was tired.

She sneered at herself … even that wasn’t a sure thing, and having seen couple after couple divorce or break-up; not a one standing the test of time, she wondered if it was worth the risk. She wondered if she should at least try … she wondered if it was too soon to … After all they had seemed the perfect couple and … She wondered if his thigh hurt when he woke up this morning. Was he going to have trouble getting here? She checked her iPhone quickly, but no message waited for her. Surely the pain couldn’t be that bad; although she was certain the bruise would be spectacular. Why had she done that? Why had she not kissed him? Why wasn’t she sure he wanted her to? Why did her body crave his touch?

Shit they worked together! This was so wrong.

Her eyes closed and she remembered the smell of him after the game, wondered if he’d smell the same after sex. Her inner thighs felt damp, her fingers twitched with a desire for release but she let out a deep, vulnerable sigh, instead thinking how she could use a Chai Latte and the sound of his usual, cheerful greeting. She turned around to put her jacket back on – to find him standing there watching her in the doorway.

“What you doing here so early?” She asked curtly, suddenly self conscious. She could smell his cologne, tasteful and not overpowering. Damn he looked good in that, no doubt expensive, suit. He seemed so sure of himself. So at ease in his own skin. A man use to being the center of attention and not having to fight for it.

“You don’t trust me to set up now…?” she challenged, walking towards him. She stood inches away replaying what had happened after the game the day before – her fingers lingering close to his crotch before moving to the side to his upper right thigh. With a feather light touch she pressed gently. “Does it hurt?”

“I only mope around about my pains when they’re inflicted by someone who only got in a lucky shot,” he answered, “and I only dwell on losses to unworthy opponents. Neither applies here.”

It was only by sheer force of will that he held his erection in check. The nearness of her fingers to the very place he longed to have her touch him was maddening, but also delicious. His cock stirred a little; how could it not? But he kept it from running rampant. Fingers so briefly touching him, and so lightly, and then sliding just a few centimeters across the fabric of his slacks before they withdrew. He could sense her fingers there still, hovering, but not touching.

There was a sulky look in her eyes, which somehow seemed more endearing than off-putting. She wondered why he was here; mistrusted the reasons. Her words hinted that she doubted his trust of her abilities. But at the same time, her body language told him she was glad for his presence. She was balanced on the razor’s edge between wariness and expectance. A ball was in play on the court, he realized, and the problem was whether to lunge for it or not. Was it destined to go out of bounds or not? Moreover, he wasn’t even sure whether she had just served and it was his turn to volley, or if she was waiting for him to serve.

He knew that humility, chivalry, restraint and other virtues were good ones. He’d been able to hold to them often enough and still be successful in business. But sometimes, they needed to be cast aside.

Or at least held slightly at bay.

He leaned forward. What he desired more than anything was to kiss those lips. Just the perfect amount of lipstick and gloss to highlight their beauty, and to inspire a man to let them mark him as her territory, but not enough to be lewd or crass. But that wasn’t something he could risk. Smudging her or marking himself with errant makeup, here where they worked and right before an important presentation. Too much risk for both of them.

But his lips brushed her cheek, and his cheek was just barely touching hers now, and his mouth hovered near her ear. He caught her scent, and recognized the hint of patchouli oil mixed with her subtle floral perfume. His wife had favored the scented oils, and guilt surged up. But he pushed it down. More than a year ago now … nearly half again that much … he couldn’t owe her memory his chastity forever. Lives end and lives move on.

She stiffened only slightly as his lips and cheek touched her, then relaxed. Her breathing deepened just slightly. But she was still coiled tightly, and he supposed he was, too.

“We have a lot of time before the presentation,” he whispered, “but not enough. Not for what I want to say. Not for what I hope I can do. Not for the answers we need from each other.”

“I don’t know if we want the same things,” she said, challenge in her voice, but also curiosity. And desire. “Or if we should.”

“I don’t either,” he said, and lightly kissed her just below and behind her earlobe, earning a tiny sigh as his tongue just barely tasted her skin. “And that’s why I’m taking you to dinner tonight, regardless of how this meeting with the people from Brandeis turns out.”

He pulled away from her neck, reluctantly and slowly, and looked her in the eyes. He hadn’t won her yet. Wasn’t sure he would later. Remained uncertain whether it would be the right choice for either of them. But too much caution could be as wicked and worthless a thing as making rash decisions was.

“We have enough time to go to Starbucks, or we have enough time to go to my office briefly … or yours,” he said. “And lock the door if we do.”

Her eyes widened just a bit. Her nostrils flared a mere hint.

“So I have to ask you,” he continued. “What do you need more to get you through this presentation and the rest of the day? A Chai Latte? Or my tongue between your un-bruised and perfect thighs?”

“Neither.”

That was the one reply he had not been prepared for.

His handsome brow rose a moment as she leaned in, and under the pretense of fixing his collar she said, sounding far too casual, “Morning Sir! You are in early this morning. Everything alright?”

“The wife has been driving me to distraction – apparently I snore … loudly … and now I am relegated to the guest wing of the house! In MY house! The only up side is that I can come and go as I please and don’t have to spend my mornings with her incessant yammering. She’s a good woman but she does go on! The driver and I decided this a.m. that this new arrangement works best for all. HA! I will even let the dog sleep with me!!”

He moved his large frame to the head of the table and added “… I’m going to sit in on this one … No no no …. Don’t argue with me you two! I am not going to interfere. I just like watching my two best men … Ummmmm … Sorry dear …two best … Oh you know what I mean! I just like watching the two of you in action. Reminds me of my early days … And it’s the most fun I have since my wife forbade me from going to the races!”

He made himself comfortable, and a moment later the new and absolutely adorable intern walked in with a tray looking slightly miffed at being made a gofer, but tried to graciously serve the Big Boss his earl grey.

“You know…” He boomed from across the room “I really do prefer tea to coffee. Something about coffee seems so …” He looked up at a sudden loss for words. It was moments like this, when he looked so childlike, that many fools made the career limiting assumption that the Big Guy was a buffoon.

Putting on her jacket at last, she pulled her satin smooth hair into a quick and dirty bun and filled in the silence “Mundane?”

“Yes … That’s it!” He smiled as his large hand came down with a smack on the table where moments earlier she had imagined … “Mundane! That is the word.”

The intern left, but not before rolling her eyes discreetly to the two left standing.

“If the two of you will keep each other company, I have to grab Laurel for a moment,” he said, and moved smoothly in pursuit of the intern.

“No grabbing that will have attorneys fretting over harassment cases,” the Big Guy called after him jovially.

She kept the small talk going with their company president, while also keeping an eye on the man who had long been her foil and confidante and ally, but now was quickly becoming a desire and a distraction as well.

“A charming and pleasing distraction, at least,” she thought, and noticed he was handing his Starbucks card to the intern. She smiled at that, 90% certain that meant a Chai Latte would be on the way. It amazed her how the intern, so recently annoyed at their Big Boss – however well she had masked it from him – at playing the role of gofer, now smiled genuinely and rushed off for this man to do the same kind of fetching work.

“He charmed her in a few moments,” she thought, “and for good measure, probably told her to get whatever she wanted for herself while she was there.”

When he returned to the conference room, he waited for a lull in the conversation, and said, “So, sir, why are you here … really? I know you enjoy a good show, but the people from Brandeis will be dull. All their officers are. They’ll nod. They’ll ask questions. And after a couple hours, we’ll know from the expressions on their uniformly bland faces whether they’ll agree to partner with us, even though they’ll wait another week to tell us.”

“I want to see how they react to the two of you,” the Big Guy answered. “I want to see which of you the E.V.P.s and V.P.s like more. Before they end up under our …”

The Big Guy looked at her meaningfully.

“Wing?” she finished for him with a smirk.

“Yes … indeed. So much better sounding than thumb,” the president said.

They both nodded at their boss’ words. The Brandeis president was lucky and had a good team and a great product. But he had the business sense of a five-year-old on a sugar high. If the company agreed to partner with them, it would find itself dependent on them within six months, and then they would acquire it and merge it into their company within another six months. The Big Guy would use the acquisition as an opportunity to snatch up a few more companies and create a subsidiary company focused on informatics like he’d been threatening to do for a year now.

No sooner had they both finished processing those thoughts than their ultimate boss said, “And I’ll need someone to run it.”

Of course, they both thought. The Brandeis president would get the boot since he was useless, and the Big Guy would want someone he trusted and knew well to take over. They were in competition for a presidency of – if they did their jobs right today – a soon-to-be created and wholly-owned subsidiary of Adepticon Corp.

The Big Guy simply smiled at their mutual recognition of the stakes of this morning’s meeting.

* * *

They had mutually agreed two days ago to let him lead things off, and now she was kicking herself for that, because he could easily dominate the presentation. In fact, he won more than a few chuckles from the stone-faced Brandeis execs with a joke about his slight limp, blaming it on a competitor company that was too weak to challenge Adepticon for Brandeis’ attention, and had clearly decided to assassinate him instead.

But after that, he withdrew his charm.

Oh, not enough that anyone would notice. No one except her. He was selling their company fantastically, as was she, but he wasn’t selling himself. He wasn’t trying to charm the people in this room. The Big Guy wouldn’t notice, because in the end, he was paying attention to the people from Brandeis and how they were reacting. And as long as they made the company look good in this meeting, he wouldn’t notice anything else.

It was an uncharacteristic slip-up for him not to jump all over the chance to win over Brandeis and win the chance to run a new informatics company.

In the end, the meeting was flawless and the presentation perfect. When the Brandeis people had gone, the Big Guy announced that he was taking them all out for a couple drinks after work, since the deal was almost certainly a lock, and even Laurel the intern was in on the invitation, for flawless assists with the visuals, the AV equipment, and keeping the visitors properly hydrated.

When he and she were alone in the room, he inclined her head to her and said, “Match goes to the lady. Now let’s go look productive for the rest of the day and after drinks, I hope I can still take you to dinner.”

She was about to nod, when something in his eyes made her stop, and then she glowered. “You fuck!” she hissed quietly. “You threw your chance on purpose. You held back just enough so that I would be the charmer.”

He shrugged, but in that gesture, she could tell he was confirming her suspicions.

“I don’t need a mercy win tossed my way, you son of a bitch. After drinks, you can head straight home. And alone.”

“Whoa, whoa,” he said, in a tone of total confusion, but also just enough placation to catch her attention and make her hesitate before storming out of the room. “No mercy. No loss for me. Think it through before you try to cripple my other leg or something.”

“Think what through?”

“What have we both been jockeying for the past year or two? Bill’s corner office,” he said quietly, as he shut the conference room door most of the way. “That man’s going to implode under the weight of his coke habit in less than a year. We both know it.”

“So?” she asked, suspiciously.

“When he falls out of favor, you or I would likely be the candidates for going from vice president to an executive vice president title. One of us would get that E.V.P. spot. In the head office. Being president of a smallish subsidiary company would be equivalent prestige and pay. Difference is that we’d be in different buildings. And the person who stays here to be E.V.P. stands a decent chance to become president when the Big Guy retires in another five or 10 years.”

She scowled. “So, instead of throwing me a bone, you’ve outmaneuvered me.”

“Not really. The E.V.P.-to-president gambit is a gamble,” he answered. “This works out like I expect, we’ll be making about the same amount of money salary-wise, but the president of a new subsidiary stands to earn far better bonuses if she’s as successful as I expect her to be.”

* * *

Having drinks with the Big Guy was always just the slightest bit awkward, though pleasant enough overall. The intern seemed to be the most adrift, since she was a bit green, and unused to either being at the club or being out of the office in the presence of a man who could make or break her career.

Meanwhile, the two sometimes tennis partners eyed each other subtly and warily. Neither was certain where things were going, or whether they would continue on to a restaurant together, though both felt jitters. Nothing that would show to the Big Guy or the intern, but they had gotten too used to each other not to notice the tension that was brewing between them.

After an hour, the Big Guy left – probably to visit his mistress before heading home, they all assumed – and it was just one intern and two V.P.s getting ready to finish up their drinks, and consider whether to get one last round or not.

He took a small sip of the very old and very distinguished Scotch he was nursing, and sighed silently as he gave a casual smile to the intern on his right, and then glanced to his left, to the woman who was his peer and his tennis nemesis, wondering if she were pleased, offended or simply neutral now in the wake of their presentation this morning and his own machinations.

Then he jolted just a hair, as he felt, underneath the cover of the table, a warm, delicately long-fingered hand on his inner thigh rubbing the very sensitive spot of his bruise. The touch so ephemeral that it was akin to a thousand little fairy mouths kissing the fabric of his trousers as if trying to rip their way to his flesh. His balls stirred, his cock moved and she was playing him like a well trained cobra. His mouth went dry as he realized that he may well be utterly outmaneuvered in the bedroom if this was what she could do casually with her fingertips. His heart was beating so loudly he was certain everyone for miles could hear.

She wondered is she was having the desired effect on him. He seemed unmoved, just sipping his drink, eyes half closed. He had leaned into the table a little, that had been the only clue that he wasn’t indifferent. She had been completely surprised at how good and natural it felt to touch him so intimately. Her fingertips caressed the spot she knew was so sore and the rush of the gesture made her head spin. She felt it. She felt it move and stir like a slumbering beast and she felt the fabric of his pants stretch and then felt it try and rise up to greet her when her back-and-forth brought her closer to his crotch. She smiled and took the last sip of her champagne, her own excitement mounting.

A waiter came along to collect the empty glasses. “Put the rest of these on my tab will you?” She told the young man who blushed, nodded and padded away.

“Well I have had a long – if productive – day and my cat likely needs feeding as much as I do. If you’ll excuse me … I’ll be heading home.” On that last word she let her eyes linger on his, hoping he’d get the implied invitation. Knowing he’d be unable to stand just yet, and with a prayer to the Gods, she walked away. She could feel his eyes on her, feel them caress her body, she could almost feel his hands between her thighs and his lips on hers.

She drove home like the often mentioned bats out of hell, walked in, tossed the keys on the console, kicked off her high heels, and leaving the front door unlocked, went to her room, undressed and poured herself a bath.

Slipping into the hot water, glass of champagne in hand, she closed her eyes and waited. Her ears listening for a sound she prayed would manifest itself soon, preferably before she turned into a big raisin. She hoped he wanted her as much as she wanted him. She was done playing games. She wanted him. Wanted him more than she had ever wanted anyone in her life. It was more than desire. It was HIM … Not his body, not his mind, not his money or position or what he could bring to her or the doors he might open … No … Him. She liked his soul and his … He was her equal, he was worth it, he was … She sat up fast enough for water to spill out of the tub and unto the heated marble floors. Startled at her own thought she whispered breathlessly, “Fuck … I’m in love with him.”

* * *

As she left, he smiled and spoke his farewell to her own, pantomiming a tip of his nonexistent hat, he then he sipped a bit more at his drink, wondering if his inability to stand was as obvious to the waiter, and to intern Lauren, as he felt it must be. He was thankful for the relatively low lighting that he hoped was hiding the flush he knew must be in his cheeks and on his neck.

He managed to carry on with some light conversation as he watched her go. As he filled his vision with the sight of her retreating legs and ass. The graceful line of her neck, mostly hidden by her hair. The contours of her back, especially where it met with her pelvis. Swaying. Undulating, even. Catching his thoughts in a vortex of feelings both primal and spiritual; physical and emotional. He didn’t stare, but his eyes never left her until she was gone.

His stubborn erection kept him anchored to his seat, and he continued to converse with Lauren, happy to listen as she went off on a topic of her own. He was aware of her words, but only just enough to reply properly.

A confusing mix of emotions swirled inside him, everything from fear to elation. A brief time with her touch, and she had utterly owned him. At the same time, though, she had given herself to him as well.

“My cat likely needs feeding as much as I do,” she had said, and he knew full well she owned no cat. “I’ll be heading home,” she had added, and caught his eye meaningfully, in the same way she did just before serving the ball on the tennis court.

“I won’t be heading home,” he thought to himself as he responded to Lauren’s latest comment, and made a light joke. He wondered how long before thoughts of his fellow V.P. would dull enough – along with the memory of her touch – for his errant cock to be subdued, so he could say goodbye himself.

The immensity of it all was almost enough to make him forget about that other touches under the table. Almost.

“Now how the hell do I extract myself from this?” he thought.

* * *

While she remained in the tub, she’d mopped up the puddles on the floor of her bathroom, mostly at least, with a small towel just barely within reach, thinking to herself that this would be a horrible evening to step out and take an unfortunate slip. One of them with a nasty bruise was enough.

Where the hell is he?

Rationally, she knew it would take some time, but her thighs were fluttering. The heat suffusing her skin wasn’t just the intense warmth of the bath. The slick moisture between her thighs had little to do with the bath oils in the water. She was terrified on some levels that she was in love with him, but her body was at war with her absurdly rational thoughts, beating them back with soft warm waves of heat, reminding her that this was no time for over-thinking things.

Where are you? Dammit!

Creak.

It was a sound she knew well, though always louder, since it was usually underneath her, and produced by her own footfall. This was someone else stepping through her door, and down the entrance hall. Over the hardwood flooring, bending and squealing oh so slightly under human weight.

Oh, I shall make you bend and squeal too. Oh, and I will bend and squeal too if you play me right.

The ajar door to her bathroom opened slowly, tentatively, and then he was inside, holding a bottle, and looking so uncommonly shy that she hardly recognized his face at first, and it made him even more endearing. A man who could negotiate the hell out the deal and defeat the trickiest bastards in the business world, and he was blushing.

“I stopped by a store on the way,” he said. “This bottle of merlot was begging me to introduce you to it. I thought I’d stop by and humor it.”

“Must have taken a long time to pick it out,” she said, leaning on the edge of the tub, her breasts hidden, but the roundness of her buttocks peeking just above the sudsy bubbles in her bath. “You know how to keep a lady waiting.”

“I wish the lady would have remembered that I’ve only dropped her off at her home once in all the time I’ve known her,” he said with a grin and a brief chuckle. “I had to stop by the office on the way over and rifle through your desk to find a piece of mail with your home address. I was a few seconds away from calling up Beth on her cell phone.”

She laughed at that. Beth was the head of human resources, and she wondered how the woman would have reacted to being asked by one V.P. for the home address of another V.P.

He walked over to the edge of the tub, and lowered himself to the floor. The air between them was charged, but instead of rushing the moment, they both hovered in that delicious tension, neither making a move. Both of them feigning such calm, knowing that the other person wasn’t fooled, and enjoying the tiny game.

“I also had that delay at the restaurant that was a bit tricky,” he added.

“Tricky? I hope it was appreciated and enjoyed too,” she whispered.

“It was. Very much. But that’s not the delay I was referring to,” he said. “Your hand wasn’t the only thing under the table. I got a nylon-clad set of toes brushing my ankle. From the other side.”

“Was the decision between the younger woman and me too hard for you?” she asked, letting a challenging tone enter her voice just a bit.

“It happened right as you were standing up, and I think she brushed me by accident as she was pulling her leg back,” he said, laughing.

It took her a few moments to realize what he meant, and then she blushed. “Oh. My. I’ve always thought she was adorable, but not like that. Not seriously, at least. I don’t think.”

“If it makes you feel better, she made a play for my ankle on purpose shortly thereafter, so I guess she swings both ways where V.P.s are concerned,” he said, and cupped her cheek and jaw in his palm. “I prefer an established woman to an unseasoned youth, though.”

He leaned in to kiss her, and for one of those few times in her life, she simply let another person lead. Take control. She let him kiss her. Not the other way around. Oh, she responded. But she let him set the pace and the tone. Firm but tender. Exploring but not invasive. She responded in kind, and how could she not? His lips were full and soft. Not soft in a weak way but soft like suede. Strong but yielding. Heady and sensual.

The kiss didn’t last long, but it didn’t need to. It was an introduction of sorts and an intense one. And as her fingers had coaxed him to firmness before, so did his lips make her nipples swell against the hard edge of the tub, and make her thighs quiver.

Their lips were so close now. No longer touching, but all the same, they were still kissing in a way. Connected even though their lips were no longer locked.

“You may not realize it, but I’m not very good at this,” he said, and laughed a little, nervously now. “Not the kissing. I have it on good authority I know my way around lips. I’m not … I haven’t done this in a long time … I haven’t done this since …”

She realized that he was crying. Not sobbing. Not weeping. But a tear rolled down one cheek.

“If it’s too…” she began quietly, cursing silently and wanting to scream.

“I want … I need …” he began. “You’re what I crave,” he said finally. “You’re…”

He kissed her again, then, as much to silence himself as to reassure her, and one hand gripped the back of her head now, as his kiss became something more insistent. As he melted into her even as she did into him. His other hand caressing her ribs now, and then down to her hip, heedless that the sleeve of his suit coat was in hot, soapy water now, and then his hand came back up to enfold her breast, and his thumb made slow circles of her nipple.

Her breath caught in her chest, frozen, a prisoner. She found herself afraid to move and break the spell she felt she was under. He leaned in and let his mouth, with its warmth, trace a slow path from her lips, to her chin, across her jaw line, down her neck … she had kept herself hidden under the water but now she let her head fall back, forcing him to let her go and revealing her breasts to him, the hard and erect nipples barely breaking the waters surface.

He stared a moment, in awe. He’d always found her beautiful, but as he looked at her now, her hair wet, her face without a trace of make-up, her supple body hot and yearning for him, him of all the men she could have, she was giving herself up … to him… her lips slightly parted and her eyes begging to take charge, he found himself torn between ravishing her and terrified of disappointing her.

He stood, trembling a little, put down the bottle of wine and removed his jacket, his shirt, his belt, his socks, his pants. He stood again, wondering if he should strip the last vestige of clothing or what would be the right thing to do at this junction.

“You joining me or not?” she asked. She had seen him hesitate and knew he felt uncomfortable just stripping like that. Yet, she had enjoyed it and liked what she had seen, his body was harder than she had thought, beautifully proportioned and well groomed. She leaned back and closed her eyes giving him a moment of privacy and enjoying the rush of knowing his naked body would soon be hers.

The water level rose as he eased himself into the large tub. She smiled and with her fingers, found the little nub and with a click and a hum followed by a chuckle on his part, the Jacuzzi bubbles and warm jets were brought to life.

“Thank you” he said simply. She scooched over to his side.

She leaned between his legs, nudging them apart as she placed herself face-to-face with him once more. She leaned in, and pressing her chest to his, letting her arms circle around his neck, she kissed him. She held back, not wanting to be predatory, but she struggled to maintain a sense of calm. She ached for him with such intense hunger it was painful.

His hands grabbed for her ass, he pulled her in closer and she felt his cock against her lower abs. They kissed, this time it was no introduction. The feeling of flesh against flesh was more than either one could manage and the ferocity of their desire burned harsh and bright. All pretense of romance was flung out the window and he grabbed her, possessively, pulling her into him, holding her hostage.

She gasped, barely able to breathe, he was crushing her but she wanted him to. “Own me – take me” she kept thinking over and over … begging him in her mind and heart to be the man she needed him to be tonight. She would take charge later but tonight she wanted to be desired beyond his control.

She bit him hard on the shoulder, he hissed at the feeling and grabbed her face with both his hands. Stopping the frenzy. He stared deeply into her eyes. They both were breathing heavily and in a deep voice she had never heard from him he said a single word.

“Now.”

She stood in all her naked glory, revealing her entire body to him at last. His hand fluttered a moment over her sex before consciously sweeping his hair off his forehead. She had never felt so beautiful in her adult life as she did that moment when his eyes grew larger and his breath drew a silent whistle. She stepped carefully out of the tub and walked into the bedroom grabbing the oversized towel along with her.

She tossed it on the bed, then simply lay down on her stomach.

He walked in, drying himself off in haste and stared.

She turned looking at him slightly over her shoulder and by the time he made it to the bed she had rolled onto her back, spread her legs, and wrapped them around his waist welcoming him to her in the most natural movement in the world.

Uncomplicated and without delay. He could feel the heat of her cunt against the head of his hard, ready-to-explode cock. He stared at her, overwhelmed by the feeling of intimacy and the connection between them, he moved in closer and the tip caressed her clit. She let out a moan of desire, lifted her pelvis just enough to position him perfectly and start the spreading of her vaginal lips around the welcomed intruder.

He was ready to plunge; loose himself in her, let his soul be washed clean by the torrents of pleasure she offered him so willingly. He wanted to die and be born again, deep in the warm embrace of her intimate self when her hand on his chest stopped him. Her cheeks flushed and with a slight tremble in her voice she said: “The point of no return … this will change everything … are you certain you want this?”

Many words leapt into his mind. But he closed them all off before they could reach his lips. He answered her silently, taking the wrist of her hand gently in his grip, removing that hand from his chest and kissing the softness of her wrist, pressing his warm lips to her hot pulse. And then with no words, he slid into her just a bit. Slowly. Only an inch at most, but he pressed pass the outer embrace of her, feeling that hint of resistance even as her slick desire welcomed him.

The point made, he looked at her. Met her eyes, and took a deep breath.

Many light comments emerged in his mind. Any of them could have been charming and made her laugh without breaking the mood. He could have said, “Let’s see how good my serve is” or “Match goes to the lady” or he could have used a pun and said, “How can I resist when the score is love on both sides?” He could have made a joke about “sealing the merger at long last.” He had the voice and charm to pull it off.

He could have said any of these things and likely not offended her.

Instead, he rotated his hips just a little, pressed the solidity of his manhood into her just a fraction more to gain her full attention – feeling a little thrill in his chest at her soft gasp – and then he said: “Nothing is certain. Except that I need you. Not just want. Need. I’d be a fool to pass you by and I’d be an idiot to think of you only for a brief thrill. And change …”

At that last word, he entered just a little more, his cock tingling and her pussy gripping him.

“Change is inevitable,” he continued. “Life is change. Adapt or die. And I’m not anywhere near ready to begin dying.”

Then there were no more words, as he slid fully inside her. No artificially shaved and pubically tailored woman here. A full bush, barely but neatly trimmed, to press against his own sex and eventually to hold the perfume of their lovemaking through the night. To give that rough caress to his skin even as her softer, wetter folds inside gave him more intimate attention.

His mouth against her neck, sucking for just a moment, then pausing in reluctance to mark her. Then remembering this was Friday night, and there would be no office until Monday, and then he kissed her throat, and ran his tongue firmly up and down her flesh, and then began to suck her neck, at first softly, then more insistently, as his hips dipped down and in and up, spiraling inward and then outward, just enough to give him room to press into her again. Neither too gentle nor too aggressive. He did his best to own her sex even as he gave her his own body.

He had been afraid that it had been too long. Too long with one woman. Too long away from sex. Too long in both regards to remember how to please a woman whose body he hadn’t been over every inch of for years.

He was wrong. He felt her shiver and she gripped his ass with her hands. When his lips and tongue strayed to her earlobe and the tender skin just behind it, her lips and teeth found his neck, and she marked him as surely as he had marked her.

The pleasure was rising, and it had been a long time since he had been inside a woman. Long enough that his impatient penis wanted release now. Hot, slippery, sticky pleasure was something more than a mere hand could offer, and it had been long indeed. He paused inside her, marshalling his will, refusing to move inside her. Her hips twisted just a bit, urging him slightly, and he pressed forward just enough to pin her a bit more firmly to the bed, to silently communicate her to still herself.

She sensed his hesitation, even if she couldn’t read his mind, and asked “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong,” he said softly and firmly, taking a break from kisses along her throat and ears. His left thumb continued circling her right nipple, though, and the fingers of his other hand stroked the firm roundness of her left hip. “Nothing is wrong except that sometimes, a soldier too long out of action needs to be reminded of discipline.”

“I’m not sure I want to wait. We have all night; we have all weekend,” she whispered into his ear, and let the tip of her tongue flick inside. “I don’t know if I care that he has discipline right now.”

“I care,” he said quietly into her neck, and his words were warm, heavy and thick. “Even if I don’t give the performance of my life, I’m not a boy. And you’re not a girl. I care to work harder than that for you.”

He began to move again inside her, just a little. Slowly and firmly. And then stopped again after a short while and let his erection simply fill her. Quiescent inside her in a way, but quietly insistent. He still filled her with heat and thickness and hardness. She still throbbed in moist, syrupy passion against his skin. Even when they didn’t move. He relished that time, to simply be in her.

Press and slide and stroke. And stop to taste her face and shoulder and neck. Gyrate and writhe and rock. Then pause to smell her hair and let her mark a new spot on his throat. Penetrate and retreat. Then grip each other’s asses and taste each other’s mouths in wordless, gasping passion.

Their skin, fresh from a bath, now glistened with musky sweat, sweet and refreshing in its own way. He continued at her for nearly half an hour, firmly and in brief bursts of passion, then slowing again, and picking up the pace again later as his cock calmed. Finally, she began to shake a little, and her breathing deepened and became huskier, and her fingers began to twitch even as they dug into his cheeks more firmly, and pulled him into her, refusing to release him this time.

“Oh … Je … sus … oh … fuck …” she moaned, and he simply groaned in response, unable to form words, focused on the moment.

He couldn’t escape her grip now if he wanted. Hands and legs held him tight to her, and she refused to let him go. He didn’t try to escape, but still, he kept his pace firm, slow, insistent. He milked her orgasm, dragged it out as long as he could. Made sure she was coming, well and truly, before he loosened his control, and began to pump her more vigorously. Fucked her hard and true, and she screamed something panting and primal, and he echoed her with more guttural groans, as she completed her orgasm and he began his. Her passion spilled around him and drowned him, as his own flooded and filled her.

They moaned and kissed, still locked together, for a long time, before she finally said, “I’m … I’m … home …” as silent tears flowed and she nuzzled into him. He held her until sleep took her away. He did not move, enjoying the feel of her against him, the soft rhythm of her breath. How was it that she suddenly seemed so fragile? She was precious indeed. He felt an overwhelming desire to never let her go.
 
“Welcome home Love,” he whispered into the top of her head, touched by the meaning of her words and smiled softly before joining her in dreams.

If you want to read the story with author commentary!

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March 13, 2010 - Posted by | erotica, Lust, romance, Sensual, temptation | , , , , , ,

26 Comments »

  1. That was really beautiful. I liked the counter point between being both the strong and the vulnerable. I could really relate to the female character in the story…

    Comment by closetfascination | March 14, 2010 | Reply

    • Oh that is wonderful to read – thank you! I am glad she was “real”. There is a little of me in her … until smokedawg got involved … then back again. It was fun – since we both wrote for both male and female characters. Was fun. I really hope to do this again soon. I am so tickled pink that we managed to never give them names ….

      Comment by Fantasia Lillith | March 14, 2010 | Reply

      • LOL…yeah…you gave the boss a nickname and I gave the intern a real name…and somehow we kept the two main folks nameless throughout. And boy was that challenging the more the story went on. 😛 But what is more interesting is that neither of us actually agreed to keep them nameless. It was just an unspoken accord between us.

        Comment by smokedawg | March 14, 2010

  2. “…the way her fingers gently tickled and stroked the fuzz of the ball, like she might tease a man’s own testicles.

    He felt his own pair tense and heat up, and felt a stirring that tennis shorts were not meant to hide.”

    This is why I could never play tennis with women; the excitement is too intense and they know with just the right touch I am easy prey for a shutout!

    After a marathon of writing at the cafe, for the past four days, I needed refreshment of the soul and loins and this story did both.

    Comment by Henry B. Rosenbush | March 14, 2010 | Reply

    • So glad you enjoyed this …care to give it a try?

      Comment by Fantasia Lillith | March 14, 2010 | Reply

  3. […] She’s got it up on her site, and you can click here to read it. […]

    Pingback by Ball In Your Court « Better With Smoke | March 14, 2010 | Reply

  4. Wow, that was a gorgeous piece of writing. I loved the prolonged sexual tension, it made me ache. So erotic and beautiful. I couldn’t tell which collaborator was writing when, it was a perfect seamless collaboration. It’s what all who hope to write strive for. My hats off to the both of you.

    Comment by megawfa79 | March 14, 2010 | Reply

    • megawfa79, thank you. thank you. thank you. I find as I read this over – I too can’t remember what I wrote and what smokedawg wrote. I find it is seamless and I have him to thank for that as he adapted to my style. He also did the editing, something I still struggle with.

      Comment by Fantasia Lillith | March 14, 2010 | Reply

      • I’m an editor by trade…I had no choice but to edit. LOL. In the end though, very minor editing by my usual standards. Mostly nitpicky things that no one likely would have noticed if I HAD left them in.

        Comment by smokedawg | March 14, 2010

  5. My thanks to everyone so far for their comments, but thanks most especially to Fantasia for her half of the writing. You’re a fantastic collaborator, Fanny! 😉

    Comment by smokedawg | March 14, 2010 | Reply

    • Right back at ya!! SO SO SOOOO much fun … can’t wait to do it again. I admit – it was far more intimate and romantic than I thought it ever would be. I love this story.

      Comment by Fantasia Lillith | March 14, 2010 | Reply

      • I have to admit there were a couple moments I thought either you or I would take it into more lurid and less romantic territory. And yet it ended up being a love story, didn’t it?

        Of course, there’s always next time for something more debauched. 😉

        Comment by smokedawg | March 14, 2010

      • next time! yes debauch and smoke filled perhaps?

        Comment by Fantasia Lillith | March 17, 2010

      • Mmmmmmm…a delicious combination. 😉

        Comment by smokedawg | March 17, 2010

  6. Beautiful writing! Very engaging and sensual.
    Sierra Michaels
    author of Intimate Encounters
    http://www.sierramichaels.com

    Comment by Sierra Michaels | March 16, 2010 | Reply

    • Sierra – first of thank you for the visit and double thank you for the comment. Hope to see you here again!
      … I went to your site and … I like!

      Comment by Fantasia Lillith | March 17, 2010 | Reply

  7. What happened to the intern? Was it her/his hand on his thigh?

    more like the friend that turned out to be a spy (best part of the story..IMHO)

    Nicely done you T/two!

    Comment by siranneal | March 18, 2010 | Reply

    • Nah, siranneal, it was indeed the main character woman’s hand, but the intern got a foot in somewhere. We’re all left to imagine (even Fanny and I) whether the man even directly addressed the intern and how he begged off to go meet up with his true desire.

      Maybe the intern needs a short spin-off story…LOL

      Comment by smokedawg | March 18, 2010 | Reply

      • Oh my! i do like that idea! Smokedawg??

        Comment by Fantasia Lillith | March 18, 2010

    • I believe that’s my line! thank you Sir!

      Comment by Fantasia Lillith | March 18, 2010 | Reply

      • That was indeed one of your lines, and I thought it was pretty cool too. I’ll have to give some thought to Laurel/Lauren the intern and figure out how to handle her, and how directly to tie her into this story. I’ll let you know. 🙂

        Comment by smokedawg | March 18, 2010

      • “tie” her to the story … *grin* uhu …. that’s for you Sir!

        Well if you want to do this again … I’m “up” for it if you are. 🙂

        Comment by Fantasia Lillith | March 18, 2010

      • Actually, Fantasia, I think I’ll take Laurel alone…so to speak. I’ve just recently had an inspiration for how to handle her and tie her in, and there may indeed be some ropes involved. *chuckle* When I’m done, I’ll post it here in the comments in the next couple days, give or take, depending on how fast I can churn it out.

        As for our next blind collaboration, I think I want to handle some new characters and situations. Any time you’re ready, though I’m hoping you can get in some time with one or two other people who’d like to play the game before we have another go-round. 😉

        Comment by smokedawg | March 18, 2010

  8. This was truly a beautiful story! It was more romantic than most erotica is and frankly, I loved it! The Dawg is in the house!

    Comment by Isabella | March 18, 2010 | Reply

    • So glad you l iked it! and welcome!! hope you take your time to read some other stories and let me know if you feel equally “pleased”.

      Comment by Fantasia Lillith | March 18, 2010 | Reply

    • LOL…”Dawg is in the house”…as long as my wife doesn’t send me TO the doghouse for writing erotica with another woman. 😉 (and if she hasn’t already, I should be safe)

      This dawg is very honored to have been able to contribute to Fantasia’s erotic home here more than once. One of of my top three erotic fiction blogs without a doubt.

      Comment by smokedawg | March 18, 2010 | Reply


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