Jessie Palmer Ch. 04

When her fingers found her clit, her breath caught. Should she? Shouldn't she? Did she have time?

The images of Precious grew stronger. She had said at the outset that when she was finished with her, Claire would know all there was to know about pleasuring a black woman. They were well down that road.

Last night, she had positioned her naked body on the bed with her back to Claire, doggy style. That stunning black ass, pushed high into the air, had been impossible to resist. Claire had never indulged in ass-play before and a couple of days ago the thought would have been abhorrent. But now ... she craved every experience Precious offered her. She had crawled onto the bed behind the girl and followed her natural instincts...

She grew hotter at the thought and her heart trembled. Lowering her head into the warm water, she let her dark hair soak, as if to wash the thoughts away. It made no difference. Sweeping her wet hair back over her scalp, she hooked one leg up over the rim of the tub, spread her legs and thrust her hips forward.

As her pubic mound rose above the bubble-filled water, she wasted no time in burying two fingers of her right hand into her tight pussy.

She would have just enough time to relieve herself before her appointment with Olivia.

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It had taken Claire some time to find Olivia's home. To her surprise, it turned out to be a period house, located just off Cadogan Square. If the woman owned such an expensive property, then the clients she serviced must pay well. Very well.

That suggested they would be both affluent and powerful. Much like Melissa Rhodes...

It wasn't her only surprise. Despite her apparent age—in her early fifties?—Olivia was a stunning woman.

Her hair hung long and wavy over her shoulders, highlighted in hues ranging from light blondes to copper. The grey designer dress was clearly expensive and, with her heavy black cleavage spilling over the top of the neckline, it displayed her full figure to perfection.

Add in those thick, glossy red lips and she looked every inch a famous female celebrity rather than a Madam who ran an interracial lesbian prostitution business.

Allegedly...

"Jessie," she had greeted Claire when she'd arrived. "How nice of you to be on time. I do appreciate punctuality. It shows the right level of respect. Do come in. We have a lot to discuss."

The warm greeting caught Claire off-guard, so did the woman's sophistication. What had she expected? A female version of Leroy perhaps? How stupid.

She took the seat indicated in one of the mahogany armchairs and glanced around the impressive living room as she settled herself. The inside was every bit as impressive as the exterior—everything from the antique furniture, the art collection adorning the walls, the well-stocked bookshelves and the imposing Victorian marble fireplace.

This woman had both money and taste.

"You seem impressed, Jessie," Olivia observed, as she took a seat on the sofa opposite. She casually sat back, one dark arm hooked over the back. "Perhaps you were expecting something different?"

Claire took a deep breath before answering. It would be easy to be overawed by the surroundings, but she was there on a mission. She needed to keep her composure.

"I wasn't sure what to expect," she pleasantly replied, keeping her answer non-committal. "And my name isn't Jessie. It's Claire."

She'd rehearsed that opening on her way there. And she'd gone through her follow-up several times in her head. She wanted to confront Olivia as soon as possible, and get her on the back foot. But when the older woman's smile widened, she sensed that things weren't going to be as straightforward as she'd anticipated.

"I understand your confusion," she replied, cocking her head to one side as she spoke in her refined, upper-crust accent.

Not what Claire had expected at all.

"So let me clarify," she went on. "When you work for me, your name will be Jessie. In your day-to-day activity as a newspaper reporter, you'll continue as Claire. It really is that simple."

Claire's heart caught in her throat. The woman spoke with real authority and she hadn't expected that. And how did she know Claire was a reporter?

"I've known it from the start," Olivia continued, as if she had read her mind. "Laura told me. Since then I've offered you lots of opportunities to discredit yourself while you've been chasing your story. And my, my, you seem to have taken every one of them. You've been a very naughty little thing, haven't you?"

Claire was stunned and felt hysteria creeping in. Not for one moment had she anticipated that Olivia was keeping an eye on her actions. She'd been set-up. And she'd fallen hook, line and sinker for the trap.

God, she felt so naïve!

She racked her mind for some sort of response but instead just sat there, frozen to her chair. Olivia took advantage of the pause to pick up a small golden bell from the table beside her and gently rang it.

Within seconds, Laura had entered the room—the young girl who Claire had met at the Young Offender's Institute. She was the reason why the reporter found herself in this position. And making the situation even more surreal, the teenager was naked except for a tiny blue g-string.

"Didn't I tell you that Melissa would drop the charges?" she triumphantly asked, beaming at Claire.

She didn't look fazed in the slightest at her near-nakedness, but a cursory wave of Olivia's raised hand silenced her.

"Laura always has too much to say for herself," she explained. "And please don't be shocked by her appearance. I insist on my girls dressing this way in my home. Or should I say, undressing? You must be warm in your clothes, Jessie, dear, but we'll take care of that very soon."

Claire exhaled deeply. She was in trouble, she knew that. The question was how much trouble. She had rehearsed the meeting in her mind over and over again—what to say, the points she intended to make—but Olivia had taken complete control of the situation.

"Don't worry, dear," she went on, her tone of voice reassuring even if her words weren't. "I understand exactly why you wanted to meet me. But as you can see, the meeting is on my terms, not yours. And before you think of any silly response, let me show you why."

She nodded to Laura, and the girl instantly picked up a large envelope on the table beside Olivia. The smile on her face as she brought it to the reporter was chilling. She bent forward theatrically as she handed it to Claire, so that her large breasts hung between them like ripe fruit ready for picking.

When she caught the reporter glancing at them, a grin touched her lips. She exchanged an amused glance with Olivia before skipping back to her place.

"Please open," Olivia said, nodding at the envelope in her hand. "Then we can talk about next steps."

Claire's hands shook as she tried to casually open the large envelope, as if it was of no consequence to her. Instead, she found herself ripping it open, tearing the buff paper in her haste. Her heart was in her mouth as she saw the contents consisted of several photographs.

The first was slightly grainy, but clearly showed her in the act of masturbation in the toilets at the Young Offenders Institute. The second was much clearer, picturing her while she fingered Monika in the Observation Room. The guard's face was pixilated out, but the action was self evident. The couple of photos of the blow job she'd given Leroy during their first meeting were quite graphic, s were the photographs of her going down on Precious when she visited the girl's apartment.

She stared at them over and over again, refusing to meet Olivia's gaze until she had no alternative.

"You'll understand that these are only a few of the photographs in my possession," the older woman said. "And as you might expect, I have video recordings, too. My personal favourite is your eagerness to get it on with Precious. But then she is delicious, isn't she? So difficult to resist. And I have to say that Leroy also thinks highly of your oral skills."

Claire stared silently at her, trying to maintain some semblance of composure. But this woman had ripped the final shreds of her self-esteem away. How could she have been so stupid? She'd known the consequences of crossing the line, but had ignored them.

The cold reality of the situation was that Olivia had trapped her, but she had brought it on herself with her ill-judged actions.

Where did she go from here? She couldn't expose Olivia without firm evidence and she didn't have any. And when the woman made the photographs public, she would be discredited. Her career was at an end.

Her lips trembled as she met Olivia's gaze again. The woman was smiling and it was clearly a triumphant smile.

"As I see it, you have two choices," she told Claire, pressing home her advantage.

Her voice soft and yet decisive.

"You can try to defy me, in which case a copy of the photographs and a short synopsis of the video will be sent to Donald Moseley, your family, and also posted on the Internet. The full version will appear on a pay-for-view site I have set up. That session between you and Precious will undoubtedly be a best seller. But..."

She paused, letting the cold sense of finality sink in.

"We don't really want any of that do we, not when the alternative is so much more attractive."

Claire wanted to respond, but couldn't find the words. The older woman had her between the devil and the deep blue sea. Her aspirations for a successful career were vanishing in front of her eyes and there was nothing she could do about it. But was she about to be offered a lifeline?

"The alternative?" she softly asked, her heart pounding even faster.

Olivia's full, glossy lips curled up in a devilish smile.

"A win-win for both of us," she persuasively exclaimed. "I always find that people are much more amenable when they have something at stake. Would you like to hear more?"

Claire hesitated. It felt like she was about to do a deal with the devil, but what choice did she have?

"Yes," she said, knowing that the older woman had no intention of continuing until she agreed.

Olivia inclined her head in approval.

"Let's start with the benefits for you," she murmured, sitting back and crossing her shapely legs. "Not only will you continue with your career, it will go from strength to strength. I can open doors for you, Jessie. To important people. Exclusive interviews. And some inside information that will help you expose one or two areas of wrongdoing, when the need arises."

"Wrongdoing?"

Olivia shrugged.

"You don't get to my position without making some enemies. Occasionally they will need to be taught a lesson. You get the exclusive lowdown on someone's activities and turn it into a front page exposé. I take care of a problem. We both get what we want. I believe it's called a quid pro quo."

The cold air of realization began to dawn on Claire. She had been wondering why Olivia had gone to all this trouble to entrap her. It was beginning to make more sense now.

"Your career will soar," the woman added, toying with the hem of her skirt. "Just as others have under my guidance. Lawyers, police, even Members of Parliament..."

Laura gave a snigger from the side. Claire had been so engrossed in Olivia's explanation that she'd almost forgotten that the girl was there.

"Let's call it a short cut to success," the older woman continued, tucking a loose strand of her near perfect hair away from her left eye. "It sounds attractive. Yes? Especially when compared with the alternative."

Claire was unable to help the surge of relief run through her body. Olivia had started with the blackest picture and was gradually offering her a way out. But there was a price to pay...

"And?" she simply asked.

"Oh, that's quite obvious, isn't it?" Olivia answered, with an unnerving laugh. "You'll work as one of my escorts."

She paused for effect. The silence was deafening.

"Precious has done a wonderful job of teasing out your undeniable talents," she continued. "I have several female clients who would pay well to experience your newly learned skills. All black, of course, like myself."

The blush that had appeared on Claire's body was now covering her from head to foot. Images of everything encounter with Monika, Precious, Leroy ran through her mind like a series of pictures on fast-forward.

"With that uninhibited eagerness of yours, you'll soon be one of my top girls, just like Laura," Olivia went on.

She glanced across at Laura and Claire followed her gaze. The first time she'd seen the girl, Laura had been wearing a black skirt that stopped mid-thigh and a tight white top that strained to hold her ample breasts in check. The sight had made Claire's mouth water. Now, semi-naked, with her Playboy breasts thrusting from her body, she looked every bit the Lolita of that early meeting.

"Laura and you are so similar in many ways," Olivia softly told her. "You both have a craving for sex with black men and women. And I'm offering you the opportunity to sate that craving again and again. As I said, a win-win for both us. You should be thanking me, dear..."

She paused for a second time and draped both arms along the back of her sofa.

"I now have a question for you, Jessie, one which I will ask only once. So please think carefully about your answer. Would you like to work for me? Yes or No?"

Claire took a gulp of air. She looked at Olivia, then Laura, and then back at Olivia again. The woman's gaze was fixed firmly on her as she waited for her answer. Yet there was no tapping of her foot, no checking of her watch, no need for further comment. She was patient. Patient because she already knew the young reporter had no choice.

"Yes," Claire softly said.

Her voice was barely a whisper.

The smile Olivia gave at her response almost made her turn around and run.

"Good choice," the older woman said. "So let's start as we mean to go on, should we?"

She casually waved a hand towards Laura.

"As I explained earlier, I insist on a certain dress code in my home, particularly with my white girls. That means you're overdressed and I do hate that. Stand up and remove your dress, dear."

The command hit Claire between the eyes. Olivia wasn't losing any time in exerting her control.

"Now," Olivia added, even though the hesitation had lasted only a couple of seconds.

Her voice was harsher, brooking no argument, and her arched eyebrow told the reporter she was waiting.

The young reporter's mouth went dry as she rose to her feet and reached for her zip. Tugging it downwards, the dress fell onto the plush carpet around her ankles, leaving her in just her skimpy black bra and matching thong.

When Olivia casually twirled her fingers, it was to tell her to turn around. She did so slowly, feeling the heat of the moment burning through her body.

"Impressive, Jessie," the woman praised, leaning forward in anticipation. "Keep going."

With a swallow, Claire instantly obeyed. Her hands were shaking so much it was difficult to unhook the catch of her bra, but then it was free, exposing her perky breasts. If her nipples hadn't hardened the moment Olivia had told her to undress, they would have grown hard then.

"Normally we stop there," the woman told her. Her voice was a soft encouraging purr. "But for someone as pretty as you, you I'm going to make an exception. Show me that beautiful treasure of yours, dear."

Claire felt as if her legs would collapse beneath her at any moment, but somehow managed to ease her thumbs into the waistband of her thong. Had she ever felt this uncomfortable? And yet, there was a certain undeniable excitement mixed in with the humiliation. She was stripping naked for a black woman...

Closing her eyes, as if that protected her in some way, she tugged the thong over the gentle curve of her hips. When she pulled it down over her milky-white thighs, she had removed the last bit of modesty she had.

"Perfect," Olivia softly drawled, devouring her with her eyes. Was there a throaty tinge to her tone now? "Just perfect. My clients are going to love you."

She patted a place on the sofa next to her.

"Come here..."

Claire moved forward instantly. The older woman's voice had an extra edge to it when giving an instruction. Even so, her legs felt so weak that she wasn't sure if they would carry her across to the sofa.

Olivia reached out and cupped her breasts as soon as she took a seat beside her. Her gaze stayed on Claire's when she squeezed them, as if looking for any sign of resistance. She was being tested.

"Look at the contrast in colour between us," the older woman murmured, taking the reporter's hard nipples between her forefingers and thumbs. "It's such a turn on, isn't it?"

Without waiting for an answer, she gently twisted the nipples.

Claire closed her eyes and grunted. Her breathing was coming out in short pants.

Olivia pulled on them a second time, a little harder this time. And then again, even harder...

Claire's grunts grew louder and she had to bite her lip.

"Pleasure and pain can be such a wonderful mixture," Olivia said, an amused glint in her eyes as she tilted her head fractionally to the right.

She cupped the reporter's right breast in her palm while her free hand dropped between Claire's thighs. Her searching fingers found the girl's clit, rubbing the little nub in soft circles.

"So wet," she softly drawled. "Let's see exactly how much."

Keeping her gaze firmly locked on her new acquisition's dreamy expression, she worked one and then a second finger inside her. They entered easily. Her other hand left Claire's breast and found her long hair, yanking her head back so that she could stare deep into her eyes.

"I own you now," she whispered, lapped her tongue along the full length of the reporter's white neck. "You need to know that I treat loyalty well. Always remember that."

Tightening her grip in Claire's hair, she held her head steady and locked their gazes again to emphasise the point. Then she slowly and sensually licked her wet tongue along the reporter's neck a second time, as she worked a third finger inside.

Claire gasped and found her legs spreading wider of their own volition. She had never taken three before.

"So tight," Olivia murmured, as she roughly began to finger her. "And so responsive..."

Her mesmeric gaze didn't leave Claire's and as much as she wanted to, the reporter couldn't draw her own eyes away. She was like a rabbit caught in headlights.

She began to pant as Olivia upped the pace, and then her whimpers hit the air. Her hips were moving of their own volition on the fingers, dancing to the older woman's tune. Those knowing dark eyes weren't leaving hers, as if seeing into her soul ... as if the woman was mind-reading every sexual kink she had ever experienced.

She began to pump her hips faster, pushing her body up and back on the working fingers. Had she really turned into such a slut? In such a short time? This woman was pressing all of her buttons and she couldn't resist.

But then Olivia was pulling her hand away.

Teaching her a lesson?

No ... please ... no! She was so close...

"Don't worry, dear," Olivia soothingly reassured her. "I know exactly what you need. That's why Laura is here..."

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Everything had come full circle. This had all started with Laura. Had Claire not interviewed the girl at the Young Offender's Institute, she wouldn't be in this position now.

By teasing her juicy finger across Claire's unsuspecting lips, Laura had lit the fire that had burned and burned until the reporter had discovered the new desires she didn't even realise were hidden deep inside her.