Her Ch. 03

"Someone's at the entryway doorbell", announced the smart speaker. Sam Findley reeled backwards in his lounge chair at the unexpectedly loud sound.

"Jesus," he said to nobody in particular. "Set alert volume to 50 percent."

"Got it. 50 percent," replied the speaker. He loathed that thing, but his son had persuaded him to connect the house up. More modern, it was supposed to make it. More of a pain in the arse is what he thought.

He put his book down on the table and started a light jog towards the front door, expecting to send whatever salesman or door knocking political canvasser this was on their way as quickly as possible. It had been raining all morning, so he did feel a trace amount of sympathy for them.

When he looked through the spy-hole, his heart skipped a beat. It was her. She held herself up on her tiptoes and was pressed close to the door to away from the rain. Her hair was drenched and droplets of water fell from her face.

His rational mind told him to ignore the person on her doorstep, who had no business coming to his home whatsoever and against whom he and his sister planned to send a small army of lawyers. It should have made no difference that she was an 11/10, or that she'd featured in his fantasies last night when he came home from the will reading. The problem was, the other parts of his mind had not shown up for the debate, taking direct action instead. He found himself opening the door, eyes eager to feast upon her without the distortions of the spy-hole lens.

"Hello?"

"Hey," she said. "I'm sorry to impose, but would you mind if I came inside?"

He was equal parts confused and aroused. She was wearing a thin, long sleeved, tightly fitted sweater that cut off at her midriff. The knit was warping a little from the strain of covering her generous breasts. Seeing her again up close, he felt a renewed echo of the lust that had stirred up inside yesterday. His body knew exactly what it wanted.

"Sure, come on in," he said, surprising himself with how cordial he sounded. She wasted no time taking up his offer. She kicked off her shoes in the entryway as she walked past. He quickly moved behind her to keep up.

"The towels are in the linen cupboard, just over there. The bathroom is right beside it" he said.

"Oh, thanks," she said, giggling.

After a moment of looming near the bathroom, he decided that it was far less inappropriate to wait for her in the living room. His mind focused. What the hell is she doing here? Why did I let her inside? The stirring in his pants offered a partial answer to the second question.

A short time later, she entered the room wearing nothing but a towel, which was barely large enough to cover both her nipples and upper thigh. Her hair was still hanging slightly damp. He tried not to look at her. He tried to focus on the anger he felt - rightly so - at this total knockout who had barged into his house.

"I hung up my clothes to dry in there, I hope you don't mind," she said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"I don't - look, forget about the clothes," he said, trying not to stare at the practically naked woman. "Why are you here?"

"We got off on the wrong foot," she began. "I wanted to come here and just say that I'm sorry for any misunderstandings that may have happened."

"Misunderstandings?"

"About your father. I wasn't lying before about the two of us - Arthur loved me dearly. I hate to admit it, but you were right that we weren't married. We were only engaged before... well you know. We were to be married that very same day. He gave me this."

She held her finger up and showed off a diamond ring.

"That's a nice ring, but it doesn't prove anything in particular."

She looked like she was on the verge of tears, but nothing was coming out.

"Don't you recognise it? It's the one that he gave to your mother."

He looked at it closely. It did look sort of like the ring that his mother had shown him once, but he didn't trust his memories enough to know for sure.

"He was so kind to me," she continued. "We met at the club. I was a waitress there."

Does she really think she can win me over with a sob story and a bit of cleavage? His eyes lowered for a moment before he caught them and pulled them back up to her face. But gods, what cleavage it is.

"Look, that's all very interesting, but..."

"I get it," she interrupted. "You don't think I'm pretty enough. You don't think a guy like him could have fallen for a girl like me."

"No! Of course it's not that."

Her face lit up. She moved to sit beside him on the couch.

"So you do think I'm pretty?"

"Um," he began. "Sure, but -"

"Shhh," she said, as she leaned in and planted her lips on his.

He found himself returning the kiss hungrily. It felt so right, but he knew it was wrong. He wondered whether it was so bad to be wrong. Then, marshalling all of his strength, he stood.

"That's - you can't - this isn't appropriate!"

Krista's eyes never left him as he began pacing in front of her.

"You expect me to believe that nonsense about being in love with dad, but you're coming around here throwing yourself at me before the body's cold. What game are you playing?" he said.

But she didn't answer. She just looked at him and flashed that dazzling smile. Suddenly, he felt dizzy. It was there again - that subtle smell of something divine. His expression softened, and he had to steady himself on the couch. His eyes were torn between her face and her cleavage.

"What the hell is... happening..."

"Shhhh, don't fight it darling. Just let it happen."

His eyes went in and out of focus. Somehow she looked even more beautiful than before. How could he not have noticed? How could anyone not notice? Krista just sat there, looking at him with that face that could launch a thousand ships.

"Wouldn't it be a lot nicer if you just sat down and talked about it some more?" she said, patting the seat next to her, her voice smooth and sweet like honey.

Yes, that would be wonderful, he thought. He collapsed onto the couch, and she tucked her arm around him gently.

"You remind me so much of your father, you know."

He drank in her features, enjoying the sensation of just drifting along. But he couldn't escape the knowledge that something was deeply wrong about all of this. Just moments earlier he'd been trying to get away from her. Was he just in denial about how badly he wanted her?

"People always say that," he eventually replied. He felt like he was drunk. He didn't think he could stand up straight even if he wanted to.

"Well it's true. And you know, I was so fond of your father," she said.

Suddenly, a connection formed somewhere in his mind. Drunk? Why would he feel like that? He remembered the police commenting on how something was in his father's system. Here he was, drooling over this lady, just like Joseph. Just like his father apparently was.

The realisation hit him hard. He shook his head and tried to refocus.

She's drugged me.

He couldn't work out how she'd done it. He hadn't drunk anything, snorted anything, or injected anything.

She kissed him again, and this time, he couldn't get away from her. His body was on fire. The fact that he knew why didn't extinguish the flames.

"That's right, darling. Just give in," she said, then bit his ear. It sent a shock through his body.

They embraced each other, and for a few sweet minutes he was lost in bliss. They kissed hungrily and the delightful friction of her body got him harder than he could ever remember being before.

"You seem a little overdressed," she said.

His body concurred, and he started undoing buttons on his shirt. She unbuckled his belt and seductively slid his pants off. He heard a small clank as his phone hit the ground, still inside his pocket. She beckoned him to stand and follow her.

"Where's the master bedroom, sweetie?" she said.

When she'd stood, his body had screamed out to return to her embrace, to finish stripping down and fuck her right then and there until he couldn't move. But the separation also afforded him a moment of clarity.

"It's..." he began, struggling. "It's down there," he said, pointing. I have to get away from her, he thought. Did he really? The great council inside his mind convened for an emergency session.

Joe had turned on his lifelong friends. His father was dead. And here he was, staring down the absolutely incredible ass of the black widow who was poisoning everything around him. What was he willing to do, just to have her for a few sweet minutes? You only want her so badly because she's drugged you, he told himself.

As she sauntered on down the hallway, he did the most difficult thing he'd ever done. He went the other direction.

His previous assessment was correct - he was not going to be able to keep his balance. He made it a few steps down the hallway before he bumped into one of the hallway doors.

"What are you doing?" said Krista. "Hey, hey! Come back here!"

He did his best to turn his drunk shambling into a drunk jog. Behind him, as Krista started moving, he heard the towel drop to the floor. The urge to turn around and look at her naked body was intense. He managed to resist - barely, but it slowed him down even more. Unfortunately, his hesitant flight wasn't going to be enough. There was no way he was going to make it to the front door. Instead, he jumped through the wide open bathroom door that Krista had emerged from earlier. He pulled it shut behind him, and not a moment too soon. The door shook as Krista slammed into it. She let out a quick yelp.

He felt awful. The last thing he wanted was to harm her. He shook his head again. What the fuck am I thinking? Get a grip!

"Sam, darling, why don't you open up and let me in? I'm not going to bite," she said, then giggled. "Oops, I guess I will. But I promise you'll like it."

Her voice was so beautiful. Everything about her was so beautiful. He found himself turning the door handle to open it before he even noticed what his hand was doing. He turned the lock, but dared not step away from the door.

"Oooh come on Sam, please? I'd really like it if you could just open this door for me. I'll make it worth your while. You have no idea how good I can make you feel."

He hated that he couldn't stop thinking about her. He wanted to take her up on her offer, more than anything. Giving in would feel so good. He wouldn't even have to do anything. He could just let his instincts take over. He could kiss her, hold her, smell her.

Smell her?

Then, for the second time that day, he experienced a moment of enlightenment. That's it! He thought back to when he first realised how beautiful he was. It was just after she came close and he could smell her. She must be wearing some kind of perfume, or have a spray that she can administer discreetly.

Suddenly, the prospect of standing so close to the door seemed a lot more dangerous than the risk of the door being forced open.

"Please Sam. Please," she crooned.

His eyes caught onto Krista's clothes, hanging on the heated towel rail. The sight of them reminded him once again that she was currently naked. He struggled not to visualise it. Her curves, her incredible breasts, a pussy that he hadn't yet seen but just knew was a vision of perfection.

"Get a grip, Sam" he muttered to himself. "You're a Rhodes scholar, she's just some girl!"

He turned around and looked for an exit. Unfortunately, the windows were not going to be big enough to let him through, not unless he got a lot shorter and thinner very quickly. He wondered if he could grab something heavy, a hair dryer or something, and quickly knock her out with it. He recoiled unconsciously at the thought of hurting her. There was just no way he could bring himself to inflict harm on her. That kind of thing worked in the movies, but a blow to the head in real life was often fatal. Thinking about her directly again caused him to feel that urge again - the urge to open the door and fall to her knees. To drink in the sight of her perfection. To beg for forgiveness and worship her. He had to snap out of it. He lifted the hair dryer and hit himself in the head with it, slightly harder than he meant to.

"Fuck!" he said.

"Sam, are you OK my love?"

The way she enunciated "my love" sent a chill down his spine and blood flowing to his cock again.

He scanned the room, then let out a little chuckle as he saw the empty spot on a shelf where his son had installed a second smart speaker the year before he moved out on his own. He'd taken it with him at Sam's insistence. Not once did he expect to regret that decision.

Still, maybe he was onto something.

He tried to orient himself and imagine how far away the one in the living room was from where he was now. It went off accidentally sometimes when he was in other rooms of the house and shouted something that sounded vaguely like it's command words.

He hesitantly drew closer to the door, trying to tell if Krista was still standing there. It was no good, there was no sound at all.

"OK Google," he shouted at the top of his lungs. "Call for help!"

Was that the right command?

"Call the police! Call anyone!" he screamed.

"Oh darling, there's no need to do that," he heard.

Then, from under the door, he smelled it again. That sweet, summery fragrance. The fog over his mind fell even deeper than it had before. His mouth hung agape, tongue loose, mind's eye trying it's best to summon every half remembered detail of her perfection.

He couldn't take it any longer. He had to have her.

He opened the door and wondered why he'd ever resisted. At the edge of his consciousness, past the goddess who stood before him, was a voice.

"Sorry, I didn't catch that," said the speaker from ten meters away.

Sam didn't care anymore. He was sad to see that she'd covered herself again, who was he to question her?

"That's better," she said. "Why don't you come closer?"

How could he say no? He kissed her with the naked desperation of a man in the desert being offered his first water in days. She slowly walked backwards as they made out, lead him into the bedroom that he had foolishly tried to avoid only a few short minutes ago.

"Oh Sam," she moaned. "I want this so badly." She fell backwards onto the bed, and he climbed on eagerly in pursuit. "But how can I trust you?"

Was he supposed to answer?

"Uhh..."

"How can I be sure you're not going to just run away again?"

"I won't. Won't do it. Won't run out," he frantically proclaimed.

He wished there were better ways to say that. Words that sounded more eloquent. He was sure he knew what they were not so long ago.

"It's just, you seemed so enthusiastic before, as well, then you suddenly tried to get away. You know, you really hurt my feelings. It's almost like you don't want me."

"No. No- Do. Do want you. I... do... want you!"

Krista was smiling for some reason. Did she find him funny? He hoped she did. He hoped she liked him. He liked her. More than liked her.

"Then tell me why. Tell me why you started running?"

It was a strain, but he didn't want to disappoint her.

"I... I was scared... you... you're doing something to me."

"Doing something?" she said.

"Drugs maybe."

"Shhh," she said, piercing the thoughts. She leaned forward and kissed him momentarily. "Well aren't you a clever cookie. I was doing something to you."

"Huh?"

He suddenly felt anxiousness - but only a trace. Troublesome thoughts bubbled up inside of him, trying and failing to penetrate the fog of lust.

"I was flirting with you, silly. Because I like you so much." Her smile went even wider, and he couldn't stop the biggest, dumbest smile from taking over his own face.

She liked him. It felt wonderful. Suddenly, her smile disappeared, and she looked away into the distance.

"Oh Sam, I do like you but I need to know that I can trust you. And if you don't trust me, then how can I possibly trust you?"

"Um, I dunno."

"Exactly! I need to know for certain that you do trust me, Sam. I think you should apologise for doubting me. For accusing me of... oh good heavens, of drugging you! That was a very serious allegation."

He felt terrible again. He was blowing it. He had the most beautiful woman who ever lived in front of him, and he was blowing it. But she had been drugging him. Hadn't she? He wasn't so sure anymore. He tried to formulate an apology, but it was difficult.

That was the moment she chose to undo the towel and let it fall away.

It was everything he'd imagined and more. He'd never seen something like this before, not in an old magazine, not on the internet, not on any of the women he'd slept with. She was sheer perfection.

"How do you think you could earn my trust, Sam?"

He stared, dumbfounded.

"That's OK, you don't have to answer right away. I'm sure I can think of something. But you do want to earn my trust, don't you, darling?"

He nodded furiously.

"And you are dreadfully sorry for making those baseless accusations, aren't you?"

Again, he nodded.

"Well, it's a start. Now, come here," she said, beckoning with one outstretched finger. He lurched forwards and they resumed their make-out session, so rudely interrupted earlier by silly, intrusive and entirely unjustified thoughts.

During a momentary lull, she started whispering into his ear.

"There's nothing that turns me on quite like breaking in a stubborn little boy like you."

Before any more of those bothersome thoughts had time to arrange themselves, he breathed in even more of her delicious scent.

He went at her like a man possessed. She almost matched him in intensity. He fucked her to one orgasm and licked her to two more. She allowed him to cum on the floor, kneeling at the base of the bed and worshipping her feet with his tongue while he jerked himself off.

It was over an hour before she was done with him. His heart was pumping almost nothing but acid by the time he finally fell into a happy, delusional stupor next to her on the bed.

"Mmmm. That was just what I needed," said Krista. "I hope you don't have anything planned for the weekend, darling. I think it's time we spent a nice, quality time together. Doesn't that sound wonderful?"

* * *

"Thank you so much for all your help," said Joe. He hung up the phone.

Joseph usually preferred to do his banking in person, if only as a signal to the banks that they couldn't fire everybody at the regional branches and replace them with a machine just yet. But there was one definite advantage to doing things online or over the phone - the lady on the other end couldn't see him jerking himself off as he was speaking to her.

He'd been having a recurring fantasy lately. The fact that it was about Krista was nothing new. But it was the form that his fantasies were taking that was so tantalising and frightening.

"Big juicy tits," he muttered to himself as he firmly stroked his cock, visions of Krista running through his head. Big juicy tits, bouncing up and down. He liked to imagine her standing above him. He couldn't remember when that had started, but he found it irresistibly sexy now. The sight her big juicy tits from below was mouthwatering.

The lady on the phone didn't ask why he wanted his daily transfer limit raised. It wasn't her business to ask. He never would have admitted to her or anyone else that it was because he was sexually aroused by sending women money. Not women, he corrected himself. Her.

As he continued wanking, he scanned over the transaction records again. He'd never memorised a bank account number at any point in his life until now. He knew what to search for, and he punched it in with his right hand on the numpad. He looked at the values. They'd started so small. A hundred dollars here. Fifty dollars there. Now, the figures were far more considerable. Tens of thousands of dollars. He knew, of course, that this was only a game. It's just a silly game, her voice echoed in his mind. As soon as he needed the money for anything, she'd told him, she'd be all too happy to send it back to him.