The Estate Agent Ch. 04

Don't worry if you haven't read parts 1-3 (although I recommend that you do!). This part of the story is pretty self-contained, and all you really need to know is that Karen is an estate agent trying (very hard) to sell a house, whose owners are heavily into erotica, domination and lesbianism. This part of the story doesn't feature them; but it contains a lot of exhibitionism and a brief taste of lesbianism. Enjoy it!

*

The property market was shockingly slow. The whole company had sold three - three! - flats last month. People would be getting laid off soon. I mean, how long could that go on for? I was on basic salary myself, and racking up yet more credit as I scraped along. Nothing was moving at all at the lower end of the market; so I had pretty well abandoned the rest of my sales in the hope of a buyer at the top end for the Keels' place.

Unfortunately, my boss John had forced me to accept 'help' from the rest of the office. I had argued with him, not wanting to lose control of the sale (after the pitch I had had to do!) and at least had managed to come out as the primary contact for the Keels. Nevertheless, the rest of the team had literally scoured the networked databases of the country looking for buyers; and if someone else got the buyer, they'd get a quarter of my commission.

I'm not a girl given to bad language, but... Fuck!

I had quite literally worked my butt off to get (and keep) that sale. The company wouldn't have had a sniff of it if I hadn't stripped down and... well, they didn't need to know that. But Jamie from our neighbour office hadn't managed to impress them, and Billie from 'Your Move' would have got the job over me if I hadn't really... "worked" for it.

Yesterday, John had tried coming with me to meet the Keels, and had been summarily dismissed at the door. I ended up sobbing on Mrs Keel's bosom, spilling the beans about how tough this all was.

I didn't get naked the whole time I was there, and went to bed that night with an empty pit in my stomach.

Was I just upset about the threat to my commission? Was it because I didn't expose myself? Was it because there was no kind of sex involved? What was I becoming - a submissive? An exhibitionist? A lesbian?

To cheer myself up, I went to my local cafe for breakfast. They do a fabulous vegetarian fry-up, which is much less unhealthy than it sounds. And as I ate, I had an epiphany. Not about my sexuality, but at least about the potential sale.

Two guys in fluorescent jackets were talking - loudly and cheerfully - about just one thing. Paul Newburgh had signed for our local team, Leyton United. Now, I wasn't a big football fan, but I did like a bit of 'Footballer's Wives'. Leyton had a lot of money; for the Championship (that's the league below the Premiership, if you didn't know). Someone very rich was coming to town. And he'd need a house.

The workmen were leaving; so I borrowed their paper as I ate, and virtually flew in to work, ending up sitting in a closed office as I only had the back-door keys.

Paul Newburgh, 24, was coming to town on an estimated £12,000 a week! I'd always slightly resented the silly money they pay footballers, but this time it was different - I wanted some of it! At around a million pounds a year, Paul could more than meet the asking price; and probably wouldn't even need a mortgage!

By the time the others arrived, I'd done my basic research. He was currently single, had a penchant for pneumatic blondes, and had dated two reality TV stars. He had five homes, and had publicly stated that he wanted to build up a property portfolio.

Could this guy be any more perfect?

Most of the others were in late; and were still drinking coffee when I was on the phone to Mr Newburgh's old club probing for contact details. I managed to get the number of his agent; and soon the two of us were chatting about Mr Newburgh's needs quite happily.

I didn't let on that I only had one property; pretending to rule things out based on numbers of rooms, location, lack of a swimming pool and so on.

Finally, I pitched. "Well, really Danny, there's one place that's head and shoulders above the rest at the moment. It's ten minutes from the stadium by car, with excellent transport links in an exclusive suburb. It's a six-bedroom mansion-house with four en-suites and a master bathroom. There's a basement that would make a perfect gymnasium, a solarium, a twenty-foot swimming pool, and a large walled garden. The property has a double-garage and extensive off-street parking. It's currently on the market at £650,000."

"Well, that sounds like Paul's kind of place," replied Danny, his agent. "Why not email me some details?" Paul will be in town tomorrow for signing photos - if he's interested, he could see the place straight away."

Oh, happy day!

I went to work on the portfolio, changing the description of the garden slightly; suggesting games rooms and gyms instead of playrooms and studios. After all, an overgrown schoolboy doesn't want a family home - he wants somewhere fun!

Within an hour, I had sent off the altered property portfolio, and crossed my fingers.

I went out for gossip magazines at lunchtime, looking for dirt; and bought the local paper to see if the club was thinking of signing any more players. And there was a local rugby team too...

Over the day, researching, I got to know Paul Newburgh pretty well. He had a slightly bad-boy reputation, and was regularly seen out in strip joints and overpriced London clubs. The Keel's house would be perfect for him. Still, he did a bit of charity work, and actually had some A-levels; and was pretty intelligent for a footballer. Some were, I suppose.

I got the call later from Danny, arranging for me to show the house the next afternoon at 3pm. I spoke with Mrs Keel right away, arranging for them to be out until early evening.

---

I got to the house a good hour early, to make sure it was fully presentable. I knew that the Keels were out, but I still had to remind myself not to get undressed!

Fernanda was there, cleaning the bedrooms whilst wearing nothing but a smile. I couldn't help admiring her slim hips and heavy breasts as she walked; remember how it had felt caressing her body...

After a few moments of divine recollection, I mentally slapped myself. I had to get ready! This was the big one!

I scurried through the house, making sure all was in order. The Keels had refused to take down any of their photos, but I moved the coffee-table book and hid it. Fresh flowers in all the main rooms. A little perfume in the bedroom. Fresh coffee on the go. Windows slightly open.

I fixed up my make-up in the bathroom; using my very best mascara and lipstick. I was wearing my best blue suit, with an above-knee skirt and a pink blouse with a matching silk bow tying my hair back.

Fernanda came in as I put the finishing touches to my makeup. She slid in behind me and put her arms around me, kissing me on the back of the neck.

"You have a man coming for a sale, pretty Karen?" she asked, her hands gently caressing my breasts through the blouse.

I nodded, trying to ignore the thrills her touch sent through me. Me, such an innocent just a couple of weeks ago!

"A shame," she purred. "So nice to have some time alone... I would like to see you some time, just us, yes? Maybe next week, when house is empty?"

I swallowed nervously, and she turned my face gently to kiss me on the lips. I put my hands up to stop her; and somehow they wound up resting on her enormous, natural, beautiful breasts. I moaned into her mouth, caressing her nipples as she bit my lower lip softly, smiling.

"I think next week, you come visit me on Tuesday? After twelve, house will be empty till late. Alone, just the two of us, we take long time to make love, yes?"

I nodded, my senses inflamed by this seductress; this siren in human form. Finally, she released me with a throaty laugh, and walked out; her high bottom flexing proudly atop her firm legs.

What was happening to me?

I tried to put the dampness in my pussy out of my mind as I regrouped. I had a customer due in a few minutes. I prayed that he wouldn't be early. Even dressed, Fernanda was too distracting - and it's not like she came with the house! I heard her leave a few minutes later, and made myself some tea to calm down.

Soon enough, I heard another car arrive, and I hurried to meet it. A black BMW slid to a halt, and a man stepped out.

I couldn't hide my disappointment for a moment, as a mature, forty-something face arose, dressed in a shirt and jeans. This wasn't Paul - it could only be Danny.

"Hi Karen," said the man warmly, stepping around the car. "We spoke on the phone. I'm afraid something came up - Paul couldn't make it, so I'm here for a preliminary viewing."

We shook hands.

"I'm sure he'll be as disappointed as you, when I tell him what a pretty girl he missed out on meeting." Danny laughed.

I smiled appreciatively. I did look pretty today, albeit very professional. My slim build and long legs looked damned good in a business suit, if I said so myself. And the pink blouse went well with my deep red hair.

"So," I began. "Welcome to Paul's new home..."

Danny seemed a nice guy, and had bought a camera to take shots. He took a few of the house and front garden, and then I led him inside.

"Nice." he said simply, in the large hallway. I led him into the first reception room, and he stopped with a grin.

"Wow! So do they come with the house?" he asked with a wicked smile.

The three nude black-and-white photographs that dominated the opposite wall had stopped him in his tracks. I knew them very well.

Blonde Evie, reclining on a comfy chair; one hand edging close to her pussy as the other cradled her breast. Brunette Chandra, looking out of the window and displaying her pert arse. And of course, Fernanda; lifting her breasts for inspection, although covering her pussy with (as I well knew) false modesty.

"Ah - no." I said firmly. "The couple here are quite... attached to their collection."

"Shame" said Danny. He moved in front of Evie's picture, snapping a copy. "These look very professional. I wonder if this girl is still modelling."

Maybe she is now, I thought. But I bet she wasn't before meeting the Keels.

"Well, you can come through here into a second reception room. The current owners use it as a dining room; but it would be an excellent lounge, or the wall could be knocked through to make a really nice space..."

We moved on. I was glaringly aware that every wall was festooned with naked pictures. Danny seemed more interested in taking pictures of the prints than of the house.

In the kitchen, Danny wasn't showing any interest at all - no nudity, I guess.

"So Danny, why not get a picture from there?" I said.

He shrugged, and I smiled as warmly as I could. "Come on Danny; Paul will want a quick look - take a picture."

"Okay, fine. Hey, you sit at the bar there. More interesting." he said.

I shrugged. What was the harm? I needed Paul to be interested in the house - no problem if he knew who was trying to sell to him. I sat at the breakfast bar, and crossed my legs demurely.

He took a quick snap, and flashed a cheeky grin. "Nice one, sweetheart."

"Mr Owens, if it'll help you could focus on the house and not me; I'll sit in all the photographs you want." I said politely, if a little unthinkingly.

"Okay, that sounds good!" he chuckled. "Sorry for getting distracted by the others. You can be the centre of attention from now on."

As I smiled, he took another picture.

"Come through to the study, Mr Owens" I invited.

After that - even though I still caught him glancing at the other pictures - he did truly focus on me. And for some reason, I started to pose a little more for his pictures.

In the study, I slipped off my jacket and pretended to write at the desk. In the drawing room, I 'played' the piano. A little warm, I opened my top button. Then we came to the game room, and I posed as if playing pool. As I bent over, my skirt pulled tight and exposed quite a bit of leg.

"You've got gorgeous legs, Karen." said Danny appreciatively. "Paul's got a thing for long legs - why not show off a bit more of yours?"

"Erm..."

"Go on - just roll your skirt up a bit." he said firmly, but teasingly.

Why did I do it? Why do I have this urge to show myself off when someone asks? Why do I always convince myself there's "no harm" to it?

Whatever the reason, I did what he asked; flipping over the waistband of my skirt like a teenager adjusting her school uniform. Twice, then three times; each roll taking an inch from my hemline.

Now, when I bent over the table, my skirt rose halfway up my thighs. He stood well behind me to take another picture, giving a low whistle of appreciation as he did.

Soon, we were out in the garden - since then sun was out, I thought we should show off the garden. I talked about using the place for a kickabout, and Danny listened politely, taking a few snaps. Once we wandered a little further though, he picked a beautiful white flower, and asked me to tuck it behind an ear.

"That's lovely, Karen. Really pretty. But you're a bit buttoned up for the garden - why not loosen a couple of buttons? Help you look relaxed?"

"I - I'm not really sure."

"Why not? These are just to show Paul what a fabulous place this is. With that flower, and a few buttons undone, you'll look like a relaxed holiday snap."

With a sigh, I undid a couple of buttons, and loosened my collar.

Danny smiled, and took a couple of shots.

"You know," he said. "If you were in a bikini against that flower bush, you'd look like you were in paradise.

I raised an eyebrow. "I don't have a bikini Danny".

"No, of course not." he laughed. "But I wondered about maybe just a head-and-shoulder shot. You could slip your blouse off your shoulders, and it would look like you were in a swimsuit.

I sighed again, a little theatrically. This wasn't what I had been planning. Danny was getting very distracted, and I wondered if I should refuse. But I was depending on him to get Paul in to see the house.

"One picture Danny - then we go back in and upstairs!" I said as firmly as I could.

He nodded, eagerly, and watched as I undid more buttons. I opened my blouse about halfway, giving me enough slack to push it off my shoulders. I was still perfectly decent, I reminded myself as I posed for him. He paused before taking the single shot I had agreed to, reaching behind my head to undo my hairclip. My hair tumbled freely, and he smiled warmly. He pulled my hair loose about my shoulders, and then - so smoothly that I hardly noticed him doing it - his hands slid back, and he slipped my bra straps off my shoulders.

My mouth opened in shock and surprise, and Danny took his picture quickly.

"That's beautiful," he said appreciatively. "Okay, I'll do what you say."

As I instinctively reached up to readjust my blouse, Danny grabbed my hand and led me off towards the house. He chattered enthusiastically as we moved, partly distracting me from my increasingly provocative dress.

We went back in through the conservatory; I talked briefly, and he took a couple of shots again. In the back hallway, I pointed out a downstairs bathroom, where I glanced at myself in a mirror. I looked - well I guess 'sultry' is the word; like a pinup from the fifties. Shirt pushed down around my now bare shoulders, flower behind my ear, and a flood of dark red hair contrasting against my pale freckled skin.

But at least we were looking round the house again. And even getting through the odd room without more provocative poses.

On the stairs going up, though - disaster!

Danny was still looking quickly at all the arty nudes around the place. And I hadn't noticed that halfway up the stairs was a recent addition: a picture of me!

I was naked (naturally) apart from high heels, with my back to the camera, looking over my shoulder at the viewer. The picture had been taken on these very stairs from below, making my legs even longer. And my ass -- well, I have to say, my ass looked pretty bloody good!

"Woah!" cried Danny enthusiastically. He lifted his camera and took a snapshot of the picture. "Now that is fucking amazing!"

I stared at Danny, and at the picture; and then back again. Oh God, I hadn't realised that the Keels had put up photos of me!

This was going to change things...

"Oh, that is amazing. You have the most incredible legs, Karen. And an absolutely amazing arse!" Danny enthused.

I wasn't quite sure what to do, so I turned and hurried upstairs. Danny wasn't going to be happy without seeing more of me, now. And a part of me wanted to show him. To be ordered to show him.

I mean it's hard not to feel a little flattered when a guy is being so positive about you, and for his age, Danny was an attractive guy. But I was worried where it would end if I lost control any further. If I posed nude for him, what more would he expect? I didn't want to have to have sex with him just to get Paul round for a viewing!

I turned the corner at the top of the stairs and paused for breath. A picture caught my eye - Evie, the beautiful blonde. She was posed, wrapped around a door which hid most of her body except for a single arm and breast. Her arm was out, beckoning, and she had a 'come-hither' look in her eye. It struck me quickly what the answer was.

One of us had to set the agenda. And it could be me! For all his bluster, Danny had not had the nerve to order me in the same way as Mr and Mrs Keel. He was pleading...begging. I had the power here, not him.

Danny appeared beside me, and as an idea took root in my head, I smiled genuinely at him.

"Come and see the master suite," I said. This was at the far end of the landing, meaning a good twenty-foot walk. Ignoring his pleading, I walked sexily, scissoring my legs like a catwalk model.

Danny whined pitifully, shuffling along. "Come on Karen. Where's the harm?"

Twit! I thought. If he'd just had the nerve to give orders I probably would have done exactly what he said. But if I take over... Maybe we can both have fun on my terms.

I sashayed back to him, walking up close enough for him to feel my breath on his face. My body was tantalisingly close to him - if he had just stepped forwards...

"Do you not want to see the Master suite, Danny?" I said seductively.

"You know what I want to see," said Danny with a slight growl.

"You know Danny, I think you're not appreciating what a fabulous...house I have here" I said, stepping even closer as I spoke seductively. "I think you need to put this down" - I grabbed the camera - "and just pay me a bit more attention."

I strutted back to the suite door and through; quickly depositing the little camera in a drawer. When Danny didn't quickly follow, I peered back at him and beckoned; just like Evie in the picture.

When he appeared, I started my sales-spiel.

"This is the Master suite, with almost 600 square feet in the main room, an ensuite and a dressing room. There are two large built-in wardrobes, a full entertainment system, and if you look closely you'll see I'm unbuttoning my shirt."

Looking bored and a little fed-up, Danny's eyes suddenly widened as his head snapped round to look at me. As I had said, my hands were at my shirt, unfastening three more buttons. I pulled gently at the sides of the shirt, exposing a strip of skin almost two inches wide, down to my navel; interrupted only by the central part of my bra.

Ignoring him, I walked into the dressing room. This time, Danny followed me closely as I led the way. I sat at the dressing table looking into the mirror, and began evening-up my shirt. I picked up a bottle of Mrs Keel's perfume and brought it to my décolletage. Danny's eyes were fixed on me as I spritzed with the perfume.