Camilla Ch. 057byMawrGorshin©
On Thursday morning at 8:50, Camilla got out of Agape's car on Bay Street with her umbrella opened immediately after, for it was pouring rain. She thanked him for the ride to work and hurried into the building where the office was. As she went towards the elevator, she thought about her 'experimenting' on her dad. The marijuana and ecstasy definitely made him less resistant to erotic psychic influence, and she used Nigrovum on him to mitigate his agonizing discomfort from the after-effects of the ecstasy. He seemed ready for Candice to distract him sexually from Carrie, whom Camilla would have the displeasure of meeting on Sunday evening, after her return from her business trip to Montreal with Mr. Holland. She was looking forward to that, of course.
Her upcoming sexual adventures with her boss, as well as the one she'd had with Alex in Queen's Park, seemed to be satisfying her urges for phallic fulfillment. She hadn't had any of those 'intense wet dreams' since Sunday night, so she assumed the regular enjoyment of male lovers--as she'd had in Vancouver while stripping at Luvlee's--would keep the erotic chaos out of her subconscious.
Though she'd given Agape another psychic erection on Wednesday night, with a sexy dream of black-haired Candice, she didn't dare sleep beside him as she had done on Tuesday night; she knew he would never do anything sexual with her, but she was afraid she would with him, so difficult had it been for her--uninhibitedly high on ecstasy--to resist the temptation on Tuesday night. Agape, apparently influenced by the Nigrovum, seemed more open to the idea of having sex with Candice when Camilla talked with him at breakfast on Thursday morning; for he said his dreams had been pleasant, and he even asked her, "So, how's everything going with your pretty black-haired--uh, red-haired friend, Candice? I haven't seen her in a while."
Though that would have been a perfect opportunity to suggest that Candice come over to the house for a sex, drugs, and Nigrovum party, Camilla was worried that Candice was doing too much of the drugs to be able to concentrate on either the sex or the Nigrovum. Camilla would have to insist that Candice leave the dope alone for a while--not an easy thing to get Candice to agree to do--before coming over to Agape's.
As Camilla walked into the office, she saw Sue, who'd obviously been gossiping with two male co-workers about what must have been going on in Mr. Holland's locked office. As Camilla passed by Sue, she heard the gossip say, "Tramps like her are why women still don't have as much power as men."
As pouting Camilla went into her boss's office, she thought, Candice and I are two women who have more power than you--or any man--will ever fucking know. At her desk the whole time between then and Mr. Holland's arrival, she just did the work he'd told her to do--arranging the business trip, among other things. She never left the office, being too afraid to face her hateful co-workers, and too afraid they'd provoke her to use Nigrovum to harm them.
Mr. Holland arrived around 10:30, so eager was he to get away from his domineering wife. Camilla saw a scar on his left wrist, inadequately covered by his watch; she psychically sensed other injuries on his body, on his shoulders, back, and legs. She also correctly guessed how he got the injuries...and from whom.
"Good morning, sir," she said as he walked painfully to his desk. "Sir, you're hurt."
"Oh, you must have seen the mark on my wrist," he said.
"I think you have more injuries than that, by the way you were limping to your desk."
"I, uh, rode my bicycle this morning and, uh, fell off."
"Really?" she asked. "How many times?"
"I'd rather not talk about it, sweetie, if you don't mind."
"OK, sir." She was growing from just lusting after him to feeling genuine compassion for him. Obviously, his wife was not only verbally attacking him, but physically, too. The mark on his wrist looked like it was made by the edge of a frying pan, which Mrs. Holland probably had also used to hit him all over with.
Camilla had heard his wife belittle him in the office on Wednesday, and she wanted to compensate for his feelings of humiliation by making him feel manly in front of her. So Camilla was happy to play the role of submissive secretary, eagerly obedient, to make him feel better.
She'd decided to dress more modestly today--in the same outfit, beige dress pants and flowery-patterned brown dress shirt, as she'd worn when she met Bob's brother Leo (albeit now with a purple bra and panties)--in order to provoke less gossip among Sue and the others in the office, and to keep his jealous wife at bay; but she was now regretting the decision. To cheer him up, she wanted to look sexy again.
"Shall I make you some coffee, sir?" she asked.
"That's very sweet of you, Camilla, but it's not your job," he said. "You aren't my errand girl."
"Oh, I don't mind. I like pleasing you." She started undoing the buttons on her shirt so he could see her bra.
Smirking lewdly at her cue, he then said, "Speaking of pleasing me, and while you're unbuttoning your shirt, there is one thing you can do for me."
"Oh?" she asked, eager to please. "What's that?"
"Don't ever wear that outfit again."
Frowning, she asked, "You don't like this, sir?"
"No. Come on: you're prettier than that; wear only dresses to work, or mini-skirts." He couldn't believe Camilla was allowing him to talk that way to her, but actually, it was turning her on.
"I'm sorry, sir. I dressed this way to protect you from any more gossip, and so your wife wouldn't get mad."
"Ah, fuck her," he said. "Nothing makes her happy."
"Well, I don't wanna wear these clothes if they don't please you, sir. Do you want me to take them off?"
"Yes, I do," he said most bluntly.
"Alright," she said with timid compliance, and immediately unzipped her pants and pulled them down. Then she undid the rest of her shirt buttons and took the shirt off. Now she stood before him in only her purple underwear and high heels. "Do my bra and panties look OK, or do you want me to take them off, too?" Her hands were on her bra hook, ready to undo it.
"As much as I'd like that," he said, watching her unhook her bra and move her hands to the sides so as just about to bare her nipples for him, "that won't be necessary." She refastened her bra hook. "If someone knocks on the door, it'll be harder to get you dressed again. By the way, you forgot to lock the door." She locked it. "Besides, your underwear looks very sexy on that perfect body of yours."
Affecting a sneer at his lechery, but happily acquiescing to it all the same, she said, "Thank you, sir," and walked over to him.
"Turn around for me, sweetie. Lemme get a good look at you."
"Yes, sir," she said, and held up her hair as she slowly turned around. When she had her back to him, she bent down and pointed her ass out at him, gyrating it slowly clockwise and counter-clockwise. Looking back at him, she asked, "Do you like that?"
"Do I ever," he grunted. Leaning forward on his chair so her ass would be mere millimetres from his face, he was rock-hard in his trousers, and his nose was searching for faecal smells.
"But what about when I have to go out, sir?" she asked in her ditzy 'Dolly' voice, still gyrating for him.
"Well, put your clothes back on," he said, still sniffing and panting.
"But Mr. Holland, I don't wanna wear clothes you don't like, and I can't go out in my underwear. What am I gonna do?"
"Well, I'll just have to take you out to an early lunch, and buy you a new dress."
"Oh, sir! Thank you!" she squealed, then sat on his pointy lap, facing him, put her arms around his neck, and kissed him on the cheek.
Though he appreciated her physical contact, the weight of her body reminded him of his injuries. "Ah!" he groaned. "Be careful of my bruises, cupcake."
"Oh, sorry, sir," she said, then got an idea. If Nigrovum could help her heal quickly, why not use it to help him heal faster, too? "Wait, sir. Let me try something. I think I can help you feel better." She put her head on his left shoulder and hugged him tighter.
"What do you want to do?" he asked.
"Please don't say anything for a minute or so," she insisted, beginning to concentrate. "I need to focus my thoughts."
"Whatever," he said, completely clueless as to what she was going to do. They sat there silently for about a minute, her concentrating on all of his bruised and scarred areas. The Nigrovum helped her locate them exactly. His body started to vibrate mysteriously with hers. She visualized all those hurt areas perfectly healed, and after a minute, he was as good as new.
"OK, sir," she said, moving her head back so she could look at him. "How do you feel now?"
He moved around, imagining he'd detect soreness, but fantastically, he felt none. "I feel...great," he said in amazement. "What did you do?"
"Let's just say an angel or two fell out of the sky and became friends with me."
Looking at her as if she were speaking to him in an alien language, he said, "Whatever you did, thank you."
"My pleasure," she said, then got up, turned around, and sat on his lap again. She leaned back and rested her back against his chest; then she started grinding on his erection for a while. His hands roamed all over her soft, smooth, pink skin: her arms, belly, and legs. Sometimes he gently pulled on the elastic of her panties and let go, snapping it against her skin. She was happy to indulge him, for after all the pain he'd endured, he deserved some pleasure.
Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. "Miles?" a man's voice called.
"Just a minute," the boss said. "Up you get, sweetie. Wear this." He gave her his raincoat.
"Yes, sir," she said, getting up. As she walked to the side of the room with his raincoat in her hands, he spanked her on the behind as he went over to answer the door. "What is it?"
"I just got an e-mail from Mr. Murdoch," the man said. "He wants to know about when those technical issues will be resolved."
"Don't worry about that," Mr. Holland said. "I'll e-mail him about that sometime this afternoon." The man walked away. "OK, baby, let's go shopping." Camilla, wearing his raincoat, put her shirt and pants in her desk drawer, and she and her boss got their umbrellas and left the office together, insouciant of all the gossips.
They walked in the heavy rain from Bay Street to Yonge, arriving at the Eaton's Centre about ten minutes later. On the second floor, they found a women's clothing store she liked, then they looked through the dresses to find one he liked. He found a tight-fitting red one that would go down to her knees. She went into the fitting room and took off his raincoat; holding the door open, he ogled her in her bra and panties.
"Wait a minute," he said as she was about to put the dress on. "Before you put it on, lemme look at you for a minute."
"Yes, sir," said, putting the dress on a hook. She then began posing for him in various erotic ways: first she sat on the bench and spread her legs wide open, putting her hand in her panties and briefly masturbating for him; then she got up, turned around, and bent over, gyrating her ass again. He pulled on the elastic of her panties at the back, revealing some of her anal cleft, then let go, snapping the elastic against her ass. "Ooh!" she squealed from the sting of the snapping, but she was all too happy to indulge his every desire. Encouraged, he pulled on the elastic again; this time, when her anal cleft was showing, she put her hands on her ass, opened her buttocks out wide, and let him see her brown anus for the first time. She looked back at him to see his reaction: he just stared for several seconds, bug-eyed in awe of the crude beauty she was willingly letting him see. "Have you seen enough, sir? Or shall I show you more?"
"Oh, uh, that's OK," he said, remembering he was in a public place. "Put on the dress, sweetie."
"OK," she said in a sing-song voice, and put the dress on. It was a perfect fit. He bought it, and she wore it out of the store.
Walking in the direction of a food court, they approached a store selling women's lingerie and underwear.
"Oh, sir," she said. "Can I look at the underwear here for a minute, please? I really like it."
"Sure," he said. "I like it, too. I'll even buy you some, if you like."
"Oh, you're so sweet to me. I'll let you pick what you'd like to see me wearing, OK?"
"Sure," he said, and together they looked through all the colours. "Let's see: I've seen you in white, pink, and purple underwear: let's find a new colour for you. Here, we'll get these red bra and panties. I think you'll look real sexy in them."
"Thank you, sir," she said, and kissed him on the cheek.
After buying them lunch in an elegant French restaurant, Mr. Holland took Camilla back to the office at about 1:10 PM. His wife was still there, contrary to his hopes that she'd have left by then to go back to her job. She was standing by his desk. Though Camilla was glad she'd hidden her shirt and pants so Mrs. Holland wouldn't see them and suspect anything, she was still afraid of what was going to happen. Camilla went fearfully to her desk, while jealous Mrs. Holland walked up to her husband with a threatening look in her eyes.
"Where did you go with the slut?" she asked.
"Honey, I..." he began to say.
"Shut up, you stupid asshole," she snapped at him. Then she whispered, "If next week I find out you went to Montreal with that whore secretary of yours, I'll castrate you in your sleep. Bye." She left the office.
"M-maybe you shouldn't come with me on the business trip," he said with a trembling voice.
"Maybe I should, sir," she said, locking the door and taking off her dress. She went to his desk and sat on his lap. "I don't like the way she treats you. You need another woman to satisfy your emotional needs. I'm willing to fill that position." For the time being, anyway, she thought.
"But she said she's gonna..."
"She won't do anything. Not if my 'angel friends' and I can help it. I'll make sure no one knows we're going to Montreal together." She kissed him on the cheek, bounced on his hardening cock, and let him grope her in her underwear again. He cupped his hands around her breasts and gently squeezed them, and she rotated her ass clockwise on his rock-hard erection. His hands wandered all over her skin; at one point, she bent forward, and he touched her back. "Wanna snap my bra, sir?"
"I'd love to," he moaned, pulled on the bra strap, and let go, snapping it on her back. "I love how you indulge me."
"I love pleasing you, Mr. Holland."
That night at Club Ritz, Camilla talked with Candice about their plans to turn Agape away from Carrie. Candice, high on cocaine, was reluctant to leave her beloved drugs alone, even for just a few days, but Camilla insisted.
"I can use Nigrovum to keep my high under control, Camil," Candice said. "I miss you."
"I think Nigrovum is making you want more drugs," Camilla said. "It was driving me nuts, now it's driving you nuts. You're turning into a junkie, and you're hurting yourself. You told me to ease off using the Nigrovum; now you ease off the drugs. Baby, I'm worried about you."
Throwing her arms around Camilla, Candice began to cry. "I'm so lonely, Camil. Ever since I moved into that new apartment. Are we ever gonna make love again?"
"Of course we will," Camilla said, kissing her on the cheek.
"Oh, yeah? When?"
"Right now." Camilla kissed her on the lips, then unclipped Candice's black bra. Candice pulled off her panties as Camilla, still pecking her on the lips, removed Candice's bra. Camilla then started kissing naked Candice on the neck, and kissed her way down to her belly. Candice ran her hands through squatting Camilla's hair as she began licking Candice's pussy, right in front of all the customers, who couldn't have been any more eager to watch this sexy spectacle. Camilla squeezed Candice's buttocks as she licked, opening them to expose her red anus. The customers cheered as Camilla got Candice's clitoris hard as a stone.
What made this spectacle especially exciting for the men watching was how they knew clothed Camilla wasn't a stripper; she was just eating out her friend. Camilla put her left index finger inside Candice's ass and her right finger inside Candice's wet cunt. After tickling her G-spot for a minute or so, Camilla felt Candice's come pour out; she lapped it all up.
"Will that satisfy you, for now at least?" Camilla asked, looking up at her lover. "I know I haven't been there much for you this past week, but there have been complications, OK? I don't want you high at Daddy's home; you won't be able to concentrate on controlling his mind in the state you're in now."
"OK," Candice sighed.
"Also, I'm going to Montreal with my boss for the weekend; I'll be back by Sunday afternoon."
"You're leaving me?" Candice asked, getting sad again.
"Oh, I'll be back before you know. My boss wants to fuck me, so we're going on a business trip together. You'll be OK: just hang on till I get back. Come over on Sunday night; but don't be high."
"OK, OK," Candice said. "But before you leave tonight, let's make love again."
"Sure," Camilla said. "When are you going onstage?"
"Right now, actually. Come watch me."
"With pleasure," Camilla said, and she followed Candice over to the stage. As Camilla approached the tip rail, she saw the back of the head of a familiar-looking man. When she looked over to see his face, she saw no one other than Mr. Holland! "Oh, hi sir!" she squealed with delight. Sitting on his lap, she asked, "What brings you here?"
"A strong urge to get away from my wife, what else?" he said, his hard-on already growing in his pants. "Why are you here, of all places?"
"My friend, who's onstage now, works here."
"Wait a minute: you were the one eating her pussy just now?"
"Yep: she and I have been lovers for several months now."
"So you like girls, eh?"
"Yeah," she said with a lewd giggle. "Men, too."
"Do you have any flaws?" he asked, awed by how boundlessly sexy Camilla was.
"I dunno. Wanna find out?" she asked.
"What do you mean?"
"Would you like to see me naked, sir?"
"I'd love to, but--I mean--are you moonlighting here?"
"No, I'm not a stripper. I mean, I used to be a lap-dancer, but not now."
"Then why are you working her tonight?"
"I'm not; I just want to please you by showing you what my body looks like."
"You're so thoughtful, Camilla."
"Come on, sir. Let's go into one of the private rooms." As they walked away from the stage, she gestured to Candice where she would be, so the girls could meet there later.
When they went into the private room, both of them were amazed at what they saw. Expecting to see only couches and coffee tables, they also saw a toilet, a shower stall, and even a bed! Obviously, the mafia owners of Club Ritz were paying off the cops to turn a blind eye to how the strip joint was doubling as a whorehouse.
"Wow, this is great!" Camilla said as they went over to a couch and sat down. "I'm working here; I'm definitely working here."
"So, you used to be a lap-dancer, eh?" he asked.
"Yeah," she said, sitting on his lap.
"I can believe that, the way you can grind on a man's cock."
"I like pleasing you; you don't get enough pleasure." A new song began. "OK, I guess it's time to show you my body." She got up and danced slowly in front of him, swaying her hips from side to side and unzipping her dress at the back. When her dress came off, she asked him, "See anything different, sir?"