tagMind ControlIn and Sweet

In and Sweet

byFru©

Author's Note: This story is the full-length version of a Hot Flash I wrote in August 2006. This story and the flash are copyrighted, in full and part, to Frustrated. If you would like to reproduce this story or COMMENT on it, please e-mail me. I'd love to hear from you. Many thanks to ghosthostblue and flibinite for their wonderful edits and comments.

*

Barbara settled down behind her desk in the lobby of the McCallow Palm Tree Inn & Suites. The Inn was popular with businessmen, so the owner, Mr. Greenaugh, hired Barbara to be their eye candy out front. They hadn't, however, accounted for her tongue. She'd had many years of experience turning men down and she was lightning-quick at it, a reputation that had earned her the nickname "The Barb."

She yawned, dropping her bag next to her stool, and hunched herself over the soothing hot steam from her coffee.

Finally ready for work, Barbara stretched and checked the computer. Only a handful of reservations, and none scheduled to arrive during her shift. Work today was going to be slow and easy.

*Boop. Boop.*

The sleepy brunette extended her right arm. It landed on the phone.

*Boooop. Boo-*

"Hello you've reached the Palm Tree Inn and Suites my name is Barbara how may I help you," she rattled off, half-slumped over the reception desk.

There was no answer, just some tropical music. After ten seconds, a recorded voice clicked on.

"Thank you, and good-bye," it said in measured, dulcet tones. The line went dead.

"Hello? Hello?" The Barb hung up. "Pah," she spat, "stupid recordings."

She sat up straight and started to sort through the junk on her desk. Why did she have so many old receipts and things? And what was this, a picture of, James, her boyfriend? Why did she that at work? It wasn't like she wouldn't see him soon enough, probably right after her shift.

*Boop. Boop. Boooo-*

"Hello, welcome to the Palm Tree Inn and Suites. My name is Barbara how may I help you?" tripped lightly off her tongue.

There was no answer; just thirty seconds of classical music. A voice clicked on.

"Thank you and good-bye," it chirped. As before, the line went dead.

"Hrm, that silly recording again." Barbara hung up, looked around, and decided that it was all junk. She swept everything but the phone, the computer, and the registration book into the round file. Feeling inspired, she went through each drawer of the desk and her purse just as discriminatively. What were all of these lipsticks all in the same color? She only needed one of each color, some nice, dark, sexy ones to set off her luscious lips just right. Could she remember to get everything she needed the next time she went shopping? Barbara started a list, just to be sure she wouldn't forget.

There was just one more drawer to go when the phone rang again.

"Hello? This is the Palm Tree Inn and Suites. My name is Barbara, how may I help you?" slid from her mouth like a waterfall over a cliff, smooth and supple.

She nodded along to the two minutes of soft jazz that followed, staring intently at that last drawer. It was her boss's drawer, the one she had been ordered never to open. *Why?* she wondered. Why shouldn't she open it? She had the key, after all.

She didn't feel cross at the soft, warm voice that said good-bye to her from the handset.

Alone with her thoughts again, she decided that the whole lobby was completely filthy. She spent the next hour windexing the two glass walls, polishing hard, careful to remove any annoying streaks.

The Inn & Suites was in the slightly shifty area of town built around the Interstate off-ramp, which worried...um, what was her boyfriend's name? Well, whatever. He was always telling her to be careful around here, but she loved this place. Why else would she work here? It wasn't as if her job was hard, or anything. Nothing beyond her. She just had to write names in the book and flash her bright, easy smile at the nice men who came in and give them their keys and clean clean clean!

No, wait, that last part was wrong. It wasn't part of her job, the cleaning. She just loved to clean. She always had. Probably. No, definitely.

*Boop. Boop.*

"Jus' a sec!" she called, racing over to the desk.

*Boop. Boo-*

"Hello! Welcome to the Palm Tree Inn 'n Suites! My name is Barbie, how can I help you?"

Barbie? Where had that come from? She hated that nickname, it was so demeaning! The fumes must have been affecting her. *No more industrial cleaner for me!* she thought.

She wiggled her rear against her seat to three minutes of cha cha music, and nodded when the voice said bye-bye and told her to be a good girl.

Barbie giggled happily. What had she been thinking? Oh yeah, she had to vacuum the floor and Windex the revolving door. Yummy, more cleaning! Just her and the sweet mist inside each lil' triangle of glass to clean and make so pretty!

She coughed and choked delicately while she scrubbed. She was happy, even so, because all of the elbow grease she was using to make the place shiny was making her arm strong, which would surely help her to give better hand jobs. All of the foamy, white liquid reminded her of cum. She had to force herself not to drink it straight from the bottle. Just looking at it got her all wet.

*Boop. Boop. Boo-*

"Cooooming!" she trilled, which made her giggle. She'd said a dirty word! "Hi, this is the Palm Tree Inn 'n Suites, my name is Barbie and just *how* can I *help* you?"

She listened to five minutes of elevator muzak without comment. Then the voice told her it was time.

"Oooh, like, wow!" she cooed, feeling extremely turned on. She got out her key chain with all the sparkly keys on it and picked out the key she'd never used before. She slid it into the lock of the special drawer like a long, hard cock slid into a wet, willing slut, and turned it. She moaned at the sensation her mental picture sent her.

The drawer popped open on its own, which made her giggle and clap. When she saw what was inside, she gave a repeat performance. Barbie chucked her old, blah clothes every which way and slipped her tight, supple body into the new, shiny ones. This outfit was so, like, *her*! The fishnets and apron and even the little doily added to the yummy effect; everything was included, even a feather duster!

She checked herself out in the highly polished glass walls, bending every which way and thrusting her curvy ass out to get the best angle. She giggled at the sound of cars running into cars outside, looking on bemusedly at the four-car pile-up on the road outside. She waved.

No matter, it was time to work! All those hot, dirty men in their dirty rooms, that's, like, what she was like, there for; to fuck and suck and clean up muck.

Oh my, she was so squirmy wormy! Thank goodness the duster had such a thick, long handle.

She looked around for a place to sit; she wasn't used to heels this high yet, and she didn't want to tear her stockings. That was for the men to do. Uh...the receptionists stool! Barbie didn't see the receptionist, but she didn't think she'd mind.

She spread her legs as far as they could go, lifting one to the top of the desk. She pulled the duster to her sopping cunt, only to find that she had the wrong end. She was *so* silly sometimes! But oooh, that *did* tickle nicely. She shuddered. All this teasing, slightly sweeping the feathers over her spread lips, was driving her mad. She could feel her insides heating and spreading, lubricating and lengthening for a tool, any tool.

With one deft movement, she tossed her feather-duster, catching the other end deftly in her right hand. It was like she'd been a baton-twirler or a cheerleader or something. Wait, she had been, hadn't she? Sometimes she liked to try the outfit on when she went home alone. Oh, that was why she didn't remember! She *never* went home alone. Barbie wasn't that kind of girl.

The duster's handle was shaped like a cock! She slid it *all* the way in, and then went in and out, in and out. Her steady rhythm increased; up and down, up and down, up and down went her arm, just the way it did when she cleaned windows. Just like it did when she pulled long, meaty cocks.

Ohhhh, my! She was so juicy she'd dripped on the seat. *That* wouldn't do. Everything must be clean clean clean! Barbie dropped to her knees and started licking, drinking in every drop of her tangy juices like a cat drank milk.

She pulled back, sucking on her lips for more flavor. She reached down with one hand and scooped out more, adjusting her doily with the other. It wouldn't do to look disheveled, even in pleasure.

"There you are doll!"

She straightened herself hurriedly. It was the owner of the hotel! Keeping her eyes lowered modestly, she replied: "Yes, sir?"

"Did you deliver the breakfast tray to room 314 this morning?"

"No sir, I just came on duty."

She glanced up; he was smirking. The entire lobby smelled like the slick area between Barbie's legs.

"Did you?"

She dropped her head in shame. Her cheeks burned.

"I-I'm sorry sir," she inhaled, her words tapering off to silence.

He snorted, and fished his cell phone out of his pocket. He pressed a few buttons and put it back.

*Boop. Boop.*

"Better answer the phone."

*Booop. Boooop.*

"But...but I'm not a receptionist. Am I? Where is she?"

*Booooooop.*

"I'm sure she won't mind. You go answer it now."

He tapped her lightly on the bottom, pushing her over towards the phone.

*Booooooooop. Booooooooo-"

"P-Palm Tree Inn and Suites, my name is Bar-Bar--Barbie, h-how may I help you?"

She closed her eyes as the ethereal music washed over her.

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