30 Days or Bust: Day 11byl8bloom©
All characters in this story are age 18 or older.
My interlude with Lisa was almost too intense. I didn't know how much longer I could resist the urge to make love to her properly, then spoon with her, touching my lips to her neck as she fell asleep.
At home in the shower I could not stop fantasizing about spending the night with her. I thought about how it would feel to find my mast rising between her cheeks, to wrap her tightly in my arms and feel around down there. Her groin would be sticky with my cum. She would be slick and hot and wanting me inside her again. I would take her, grasping her breasts and giving her the hard, satisfying fuck we both needed.
The gift had been, I thought, out of a sort of compassion. Since penetration was not in the contract, I figured to arrange a sort of mercy orgasm for the lady.
What I didn't realize at the time, I swear I didn't, was that all along I had been picturing her using it. When I walked in the door and saw the staff in her hand, -- saw her pushing it into herself -- god I almost passed out. I stared in fascination at the action. Here was this nice, brainy scientist, wantonly fucking herself in front of me.
I had a hard-on in the shower. Jacking off was getting to be tiresome, but something had to be done. I couldn't exactly go the grocery in this condition.
"Persistent, aren't you," I spoke to my appendage, and reached for the liquid soap.
It was easy to picture Lisa, a hundred different ways. In her lab, in her office. Raking leaves in the yard, her nipples protruding through a thin black t-shirt. Riding the bough in the apple orchard. Spilling her cum on the lining of my jacket. I had cuddled that jacket all night, smelling her.
It didn't take long. I rinsed off, dressed, and got ready to go to work. I don't mean a job. I mean, to the office. I was now one-third of the way through the Arthur contract, and due to check in.
Although I couldn't think of a particular reason why I should have an office, especially one with a desk instead of a bed, that was the way Leo Jantzen wanted it. He liked things to be professional.
There was nothing gaudy or sleazy in the lobby. A visitor might notice that all of the oil paintings, though tasteful and clearly expensive, featured nudes. Other than that the room was simple and modern.
Behind the receptionist's desk, Maria wore a grey double-breasted suit. A hint of white camisole reposed at the neckline of her jacket. Her dark hair was neatly tied back in a bun. She looked clean and professional -- no, impeccable. Just a touch of make-up accented her face.
We greeted one another and I passed through to the vestibule of Leo's office. It was the other half of the figure-eight shaped room; Maria swung around on her chair and invited me to have a seat.
"He's with a client right now, Mark."
I wasn't the only one waiting. Across from me, by the window, a young woman leafed through the stable. The stable was a sort of coffee table book, except it was filled with photographs and text about the goods available at Wish. It lay open on a pedestal, like a dictionary.
My picture was in that book.
The young woman's profile was not strikingly beautiful, but pleasant. Despite her micro-mini and tiny halter top, she exuded an aura of shyness. Her skin was a clear dark color, like cocoa beans under caramel. Her calves were well-developed, so I guessed her sport as track ... or gymnastics, maybe. Her biceps weren't bad.
Now she looked at the book, glanced at me, looked at the book again, and looked back up at me. Yep -- she had found my profile. It didn't make me blush, this was what I did for a living, but she seemed to pink up a bit.
"So you like basketball, boy." She perched on the sofa beside me.
"Mind if I check your arm?"
Obligingly I pushed up the sleeve of my tee shirt. It has never bothered me to let a pretty girl pet my muscles.
"Hmmm..." She looked me over.
I smiled at her. "I'm sorry I'm not available right now."
"But you're in the book!" She wiggled, and the halter top struggled to keep her perky boobs reined in.
I made a sorry-about-that face and explained, "I'm on a long-term assignment right now."
"Oh." Little Miss was disappointed and I sought to cheer her up.
"There are lots of nice men here, you know. What's your name?"
"Nakita." The timbre of her voice held some kind of accent, but I couldn't quite place it.
"Nakita, I'm Mark." We shook hands. "Where are you from?"
"Jamaica, boy, of course. Can't you tell?"
The door to Leo's private office opened, sparing me further small talk. Behind my boss towered a hulk of a man. He was very dark-skinned and handsome enough to be my co-worker. Nakita's features looked like his.
He said her name and made a sharp gesture. The girl smiled at me and rose in one fluid motion. She fluttered her fingers in a cute wave and swayed her bottom at me as she walked away. If she was wearing so much as a thong under that tiny excuse for a skirt, I sure couldn't tell.
Idly I wondered what these clients had in mind, but they didn't hold my attention for long. Again, most people think their fantasies are unique. But it pretty much always boils down to basic fucking. Rarely had I met a woman who truly aroused me.
This made me think of Lisa, of course, and I pretended to read a magazine while I thought about what I would say to my boss. Various professional phrases floated through my mind.
At Wish Fulfillment, we really do try to respect our clients. It's highly unlikely my report would be, "This one is a great lay." Instead my boss might hear, "Her Wish was granted as described and she seemed satisfied with the services provided."
Lisa's Wish had not yet been fulfilled, but I could truthfully say she appeared to be satisfied with the progress. "Her responses to the treatment are encouraging." This would sound good.
The conference in Leo's office grew louder as the door opened. Nakita and her father (big brother?) were smiling and their voices sounded happy. The tall man winked at me and the girl gave a shy little giggle.
This was not good.
"Come on in, Mark," said Leo. The way he said it gave me a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach.
One of the most important skills of the trade has nothing to do with sex. The ability to mask one's feelings comes in handy, too. I kept my face polite and joined the little group.
With a jerk of his head, the big man directed Nakita to wait outside. Smiling, she trailed her fingertips over my shoulder as she passed. I barely suppressed a shudder. Something seemed really wrong here.
The door closed like a bank vault swinging shut. Leo relaxed behind his desk while the stranger and I took the two clients' chairs. I kept my mouth shut, and waited.
Leo addressed the customer first. "Mr. Clarke, I'd like you to meet Mark Goodbody. Mark, this is Mr. Morgan Clarke."
"How do you do." I shook his hand.
My dossier was on Leo's desk -- another bad sign. There was a lot more in it than a snapshot and a few sentences. This was the file that got pulled when one of the ranks was under serious consideration for a job.
Within the past month, Lisa had looked at my file. The video disc inside showed me being interviewed, working out, and posing in the nude, among other things. Some people want to meet ahead of time, some don't. Some take a thrill in having sex with a stranger -- it ruins the effect to have a cup of coffee first. I had not asked Lisa about her decision.
Lisa -- what would I tell her? I was clearly under consideration for whatever the Clarke family had in mind.
"Mr. Goodbody, I would like to clear up a few things," Clarke rumbled.
"Sure. What's on your mind?"
"It's not a problem -- " Leo started, but Clarke pushed a palm in his direction, cutting him off.
The big man faced me. "Nakita tells me you are otherwise occupied."
"I am currently on a long-term assignment." I spoke carefully, not wanting to cause offense, yet keenly interested in avoiding a snare. "There are many excellent workers on staff, however. All are highly skilled, or they would not be qualified to grant wish fulfillment."
Morgan Clarke tipped his head. "You're very careful, aren't you, Mr. Goodbody. Considerate of the feelings of others."
I met his gaze. "Yes, I suppose I am."
He poked a finger into my chest. "Then you are the one I want."
I didn't take the bait of his aggressive gesture. Instead I calmly asked what it was he wanted me to do.
He regarded me without smiling.
"I want you to deflower my daughter."