A Gift for Simone

"Oh God," she groaned when her knuckles rapped at the door.

The man who answered the door smiled, his eyes moving along the length of Simone's body.

At least he was good-looking, she recognised with some distant part of her brain.

"Simone," the man grinned, stepping back to invite her inside with a sweep of an arm. "Wow," he added.

Timorous, Simone asked, "Where's Jake?" She peered beyond the stranger into the room. "Is he here yet?"

"No, he's not." The man stepped back. "Please, come in. I'm not going to do anything to you."

Simone took a tentative step inside, her eyes searching as she moved beyond the threshold.

"Are you by yourself?"

The man nodded. "Yes, and I'm only staying until Jake gets here."

It was all a game! It would be just her and Jake after all!

Relief flooded through her. "Then why are you here now?" Simone asked. The man's revelation had restored Simone's equilibrium. She experienced a surge of confidence, her usual aggression asserting itself.

"Jake asked me to get you settled in," the man replied. He closed the door and moved past Simone, leading her deeper into the suite. "He mentioned he was late and asked if could I meet a friend of his here. Make sure she was all right." He gave Simone's body the once over again. "And is there anything I can do for you, Simone? Before Jake arrives, that is."

"What have you got in mind?" Simone replied, her voice light and flirty. Amazing how quickly she could adapt to her situation. "Although Jake's paying," she breathed, settling right in to her role. "Do I ask you for money too or would I just put it on his account?"

The man laughed. "On Jake's account." He threw Simone a wink.

Simone, deciding she liked the man, walked into the room and looked around. She deliberately allowed the hem of the tight dress to ride up her thighs and exaggerated the swing of her hips before she eased her body on to a soft, two-seater sofa Simone crossed her legs, revelling at the man's appreciative stare.

He stared at Simone, his gaze heavy-lidded. She looked up and studied him quickly, assessing his age at close to Jake's -- late-forties to mid-fifties. Tall, lean in an athletic way, his frame complimented by a dark suit. Simone briefly wondered about the body beneath, envisioning a broad chest layered with taut pectorals, no sign relaxed muscle in his middle. She found him handsome in a slightly bland way -- good-looking enough yet not striking.

It occurred to Simone that she might use the man for practice. She could perhaps flirt a little, wind him up a bit, hone her seduction technique in readiness for Jake.

Maybe she could have a little fun before Jake arrived? Just to settle into her role as the whore.

"What service would you require?" Simone breathed, tossing her head as she flicked her long hair over her shoulder. She reclined against the sofa's cushions and allowed the slide of the dress to go unchecked.

"Would you..." The man gulped in a voice that was a dry, dusty croak. "Would you take the dress off? I'd love to see you naked."

"Jake wanted me in shoes and stockings," Simone pouted, amazed at her own audacity and the speed in which she'd regained her composure. "Would that do for you?"

"God, yes..."

Simone rose to her feet and, keeping her stare locked on the anonymous man's hot-eyed gaze, eased the bootlace straps over her shoulders.

Her body thrummed; senses alive. Part of her was staggered at how easy she was, appalled and exhilarated in equal measure.

Then, remembering the scene she'd described, Simone turned and allowed the dress to fall to her waist.

"Bloody hell," she heard the man mutter, his sigh causing an arterial burst of wanton abandon to burst inside her.

"Look at me," Simone breathed. Her pussy oiled and her clitoris pulsed. It was so fucking dirty ... Stripping in front of a man she didn't even know! "Do you like what you're seeing?"

"Yes. Fuck, yes..."

The croak of lust spurred her, and Simone allowed the dress to pool around her feet. She held her pose, cocking one hip while the sound of heavy breathing came from behind her.

Simone turned and found herself staring at the man cranking away at a full-blooded erection.

"You naughty boy!" she yelped.

"I can't help it. Look at you. Fuck, what a body."

"But Jake will be here soon. You ... You shouldn't do that. We can't do anything..."

Simone found she couldn't drag her eyes away from the man's fist as it worked up and down the length of his cock. It was so fucking horny to see.

"Please," the man begged as he took a step towards Simone. "Can't I fuck you? I'll wear a jonny. You've got a condom, right?"

The truth was, no, Simone didn't have a condom. She'd brought nothing but a small clutch bag containing her phone, purse and some cosmetics for a quick touch up. Her work clothes for tomorrow and her wheeled case were in her office. Bad planning since she had considered the possibility of having to do the walk-of-shame in the morning.

Simone shook her head.

The man stepped closer, his fist working hard, squelching along his length while the eye of his cock seeped pre-cum.

"Suck me, then? Wank me off onto those tits?" He loomed over Simone, his eyes bulging, face twisted into a tight mask of lust. "Let me fuck those big jugs!"

"I ... I can't," Simone squealed. "No! Jake will be here soon. This is all for him. I can't do that."

The man was breathing hard by then, his eyes crazed, his whole demeanour desperate.

"Come on," he begged. "Look at the state of me." His hard-on waggled in his fist. "I've got to come. If we can't fuck..." He stared at Simone and licked his lips, obviously struggling with the desire to launch himself at Simone and simply force his cock into her body. "I've got to do something. I can't leave it like this."

"Just wank," Simone barked. She shook her head and huffed before sitting on the sofa again. "Look at me and pull it."

Deciding the best course of action, one that would bring the unexpected yet not wholly unpleasant scene to a conclusion, would be to give the bloke a good look at her body, Simone shifted her buttocks against the leather beneath, shunting her hips forward. She opened her legs and splayed the sticky folds, exposing her core to his gaze.

"Oh, fuck," the man groaned. "You're showing me your pussy. God, just look at that." He blew out his cheeks and grinned. "What I wouldn't give to lick that. I'd pay you to let me stick my cock into you."

"Another time, maybe?" Simone mumbled. She was getting worked up herself. The look on the man's face and the desire Simone saw there excited her. "If you leave your name and phone number ... Who knows, maybe we could hook up another time. Some other time, if you're willing and can show me how generous you can be..." Simone winced and gasped, a finger sliding over her clitoris. "...Well, if you're willing to pay for it, you can have it," she breathed.

"Yes," the man grunted. His fist jacked at his length, rapid and urgent as he mumbled profane compliments, his eyes locked on Simone's circling hand. "Fucking you ... Yeah ... I'd love it. I'd love to feel you tight and wet around my cock."

He took a step towards Simone, a lurch that brought him right up close. Concerned that he might just lunge at her, Simone sprang upright.

"Careful," she blurted. "Don't fall on me."

"I'm there," the man grunted. "Oh ... Fuck..."

Before Simone could react, just as she brought a hand up, fingers spread to ward off the man's unsteady advance, he let out another guttural grunt, his body tensing.

"What...!" Simone managed before a gob of semen flicked into hair.

More of the stuff squirted from him, spunk splashing, hot and viscous, across Simone's forehead before another dollop spattered onto her cheek.

Then all hell broke loose.

"Fuck," the man blurted. "Oh ... fuck..."

"Oh!" Simone yelped when she realised she had jizm strung in her hair, more of the stuff beginning a slow dribble down her face. "What the fucking hell...!" She lifted a hand to her cheek, boggling at the sight of her fingers gooey with ejaculate. "You've come on me! You fucking arsehole. My face ... You pig, you've come on my face."

And while this tirade poured out of Simone, instead of reacting and crawling along the sofa to get away from the deluge, another gout of semen plopped onto her leg, the blob sitting there glistening.

Finally Simone pushed him away, a hand on his belly to send the man staggering backwards.

"I don't fucking believe this. This is not happening!" She rose to her feet, eyes flashing, her cheek spattered. "You came on me!"

She advanced on the slack-jawed man, apparently intent on doing him a physical injury.

Just as Simone's hand rose, fingers clawed as she prepared to slash her painted nails across the man's cheek, the door to the room clicked open.

Simone's head turned and she froze, fingers poised at the apex of her hand's ascent.

She refused to believe what she saw. It didn't make any sense.

Simone blinked, suddenly very aware of how she must look.

"You?" she gasped. "What the...? What are you doing--?"

"For the camera, Simone," Jake's wife trilled. She lifted a small digital camera and took several snaps. "This is even better than I hoped for. Perfect. Just perfect."

Mrs Morris smiled at the man. "Put that away," James," she said, eyebrows arched. "Put your cock away and get out. I'll see you later."

The man, blinking and shaking his head, replied with, "I didn't mean to go so far." His head jerked towards Simone. "But you kept telling me what to do ... Mrs Morris, I..."

"You did splendidly, James," the woman interrupted. "Stop babbling. You didn't go too far. You got it exactly right." Mrs Morris turned a contemptuous countenance towards Simone. "Far better than I hoped. I didn't think the slut would actually..." Mrs Morris smirked and shook her head. "Go on, James," she continued. "Get out. I'll see you later. It's all right."

"What?" Simone gulped, still reeling from the woman's entrance. She watched James make his exit and slowly shook her head, mind reeling. She scissored at the waist and plucked her dress from the carpet. Covering herself by clutching the bunched dress to her torso. "What the hell is this?"

Mrs Morris tutted and shook her head. "Aw, poor Simone. Haven't you worked it out? You poor girl." And then the woman's tone changed completely, her face twisting when she snapped, ""It was me all along, you filthy bitch. Jake told me you were practically throwing your legs open for him. I watched you at the barbecue last week. I saw it in your face, you husband-thieving trollop. I could read you like a book."

Mrs Morris advanced and, thinking the woman was about to slap her face or claw at her eyes, Simone backed away, sitting heavily on the sofa when bumped against it.

"As luck would have it I walked into Jake's office after he and I had lunch last Wednesday. Jake was delayed, caught by someone en route. But I continued ahead and found your sordid little gift. Me, Simone..." She jabbed a forefinger at he own chest and then clicked her tongue, rolling her eyes in derision. "I walked in and saw your nasty gift. How original ... leaving your dirty knickers for him.

"It was pure chance Jake and I had lunch that day. Fate, if you like." Mrs Morris chuckled -- it wasn't a pleasant sound to Simone. Not pleasant at all. "Blind luck you chose that day to leave your underwear behind." Her eyes narrowed to slits. "Unless you've done it before and Jake was too appalled to tell me."

A long pause while Mrs Morris considered the new idea and Simone, speechless, merely boggled.

"Anyway, no matter," Mrs Morris continued. Her hand waved in the air as if the issue was of no consequence; which of course it wasn't, the outcome remained the same: Simone was caught.

"I sent the emails. I orchestrated this little meeting. James is an actor; he was wearing an earpiece -- marvellous technology. So tiny. Almost invisible! -- and was following my instructions while I listened. I didn't think you'd take your dress off for him Simone. Truly I didn't. But I had to try, I hoped for at least one more compromising picture. But you went way beyond my expectations." The woman eyed Simone with heavy disdain. Her lip curled. "Look at you," she spat. "Dressed for sex ... Sex with MY HUSBAND!"

Again, Simone flinched, certain that Mrs Morris was about to launch an assault.

With apparently great effort, Mrs Morris calmed and continued: "You're dressed for fucking and you're covered in semen." She raised the camera. "And I've got it here. Not to mention the pictures of you at Jake's desk with that dildo shoved into your disgusting hole."

"Oh God..." moaned Simone. Those pictures too! "Please ... Mrs Morris ... Please ... I..."

Mrs Morris moved towards the door. She opened it and paused.

"I think you can consider yourself sacked, Simone. Masturbating at your boss's desk during work time...?" Mrs Morris gave a little chuckle. "When a few selected board members see the pictures of you fucking yourself at Jake's desk, well, I think you get the picture, Simone -- no pun intended, of course!" The woman held up the camera. "These are simply a souvenir, something to remind me of a dirty little scrubber who thought she could take my husband."

Mrs Morris sighed and eyed Simone with something close to pity.

"I read you quite well, Simone. I knew you'd be a whore if I played you correctly. And what a whore you turned out to be." Mrs Morris turned and blurted a laugh, fingers waggling she left the room, Simone gaping at the closing door.