Life of Paul Ch. 02: Amber

All characters appearing or mentioned in this story are 18 years old or older. This story is a work of fiction and any reference or description to actual persons is unintentionally.

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April 2019

As I pounded my long, thick, and very aroused cock into my cute little 'office slut', I could feel her approaching another orgasm. The other asses in line were patiently waiting and I knew I had to save some energy for them. I felt her pussy contract from her third orgasm around my cock, her moans pitched higher as she buried her face in a couch cushion. This was 'office time' and it wouldn't do for others in the 'office' to hear her moans. I slowed my pace and let her come down gently from the intensity of her finish.

With effort, and one last long, low moan from my pseudo-office slut, I withdrew from her slowly. She was leaning heavily on the couch now, spent from cumming so hard and in quick succession. Her juices ran down her light chocolate legs, all the way down to her beige heels. Her beige skirt was a wrinkled mess around her waist. She made no effort to recover or leave, preferring to simply lay over the back of the couch, breathing heavily.

With a departing squeeze of her ass, I slowly walked back up the line of asses still presenting themselves to me. I softly patted the ass next the office slut, seductive and inviting in her half t-shirt.

The second ass, who liked to be kept waiting, was still in the bent over position. Though she was raising herself on her tip toes trying to be more alluring.

I lined up my slick cock, still fully erect, to her already dripping pussy and thrust my full length into her at once. The shock of it elicited a scream of surprise and pleasure from her, and another as I pulled almost all the way out and slammed back in. I slammed my cock into her a third time and then just as suddenly withdrew, getting a disappointed sob.

I moved back to the previous ass; petite and girl-next-door sexy in her cut off t-shirt. I didn't slam into her engorged pussy all at once, but in a couple of thrusts, with a satisfied moan coming from each long stroke of my penetration.

Wanting to hear the imaginative profanities as only a hard fuck would get out of her, I pushed in my full length and quickened my pace...

#

May 2003

I approached my new shop from the back alley. Being part of Portlands NW historic shopping district, it still had alleys which were great for, well, alley type stuff. I went inside where Jessica greeted me as business-like as ever.

"Morning Paul," she said, "I've got all the monthly booking done and the orders are all placed." She was super efficient as the store manager and, really, sole employee of my high end lingerie shop. After the rather obscene amount of money I made selling some technology to a company run by a turtle neck wearing ex-hippy, I spent a couple of years in my basement workshop trying to work on my next big project. I was making progress on my ideas, but things were sort of stalling.

I had my own little company for the tech stuff, but it was mostly just a business license and a bank account. On uncle Mikes advice, I decided to branch out my business portfolio, because diversity breeds profitability, as he said. And so I did what any other young man would do; bought a failing boutique, fixed it up, and turned it into a high end and super exclusive lingerie store.

I hired Jessica just as the store was finished being renovated. She was a business graduate, was business savvy, and had great ideas. It didn't hurt that she was a stunner as well, since women buying sexy underwear from a dude didn't appeal.

She was half a head shorter than I was, trim in her business attire of jacket and modest skirt but still boasting impressive curves. Her wavy auburn hair was up in its typical tight bun, her legs long and lean and clad in dark stockings and a sensible low heel shoe. She totally looked the part of an office secretary which, as a whip smart businesswoman, she leveraged to her advantage constantly.

It was her idea that led us to start hosting parties for groups of brides and other women and offering wine. They were easily the most profitable portion and referred their wealthy friends. Jessica ran the place well and I paid her a large salary to keep it going. Even though she had her degree, she still stayed on because I was paying more than she'd get at a firm and she got to run an actual business. Win-win.

I looked over the orders she handed me and smiled. It was always nice to see a healthy profit. The new website also was boosting foot traffic and we had four nights booked for parties of varying types. One of the names sounded weird though.

"Hey," I asked, "who is this group, name under 'Satin Glossy'? Sounds like a porn name."

"Oh," Jessica responded, "thats a stage name. They're a group of cross dressers who perform at a club in town. They wanted the full treatment package and paid all in advance."

"Huh," I said. I pondered the reservation for a moment. Eh, whatever, dudes needed lingerie too sometimes. And they paid in advance. "Call the caterers", I said, "and make sure to provide some stuff with names that are hard to pronounce. Make them feel special. Could be a good market entry."

"Already done," Jessica said, sitting on the edge of the desk. "They'll be swimming in things that sound French for the whole night."

"Speaking of swimming," I said to her, dropping the orders on the desk, "I have access to a cabin this weekend. Crystal clear lake, roaring fireplace, the works. How about we go up and see how clear the water really is? I do believe any of those bikinis on the wall would look great."

"Hmmm," she said, smiling slightly at me, "you're right. those bikini's would look good, but then what would I wear?"

"Well, we could just forgo the bikinis," I offered, moving a little close to her.

She leaned a smidge closer, but only a smidge. "Well, now that does sound like fun," she said softly. "But," she said in a business tone, "the weekend is a big earner for this place so, sorry." She smiled at my dumb struck face as she left the office, hands clasped behind her back sweetly, glancing seductively back at me as she rounded the corner.

OK. Strike forty three.

My cell phone rang in my jacket pocket. Looking at the analog screen I didn't recognize the incoming number. Since gaining money, I was surprised how many friends I'd suddenly had. However this number was private and very few people had it.

"Hello," I answered.

"Paul, it's Amber," the voice said, "I know it's been a couple years, and I'm sorry to just call out of the blue, but I could use your help."

#

The charter terminal at PDX was mostly deserted at this time of night. I didn't want to mess with security or lines so I booked a charter flight for Amber. As the Lear jet came to a stop and the door opened, I realized that I must have looked like Humphrey Boggart standing on the tarmac in the rain. The steward came up to chalk the wheels and grab the baggage, which there was none of.

Amber stepped out of the door carrying just a shoulder bag. Her features, eyes, hair, everything was mostly how I remembered. She stepped down the stairs in a hurry and walked quickly to me, grabbing me in a fierce hug, saying nothing. She stood there for a few moments before I spoke up about something that seemed off.

"Um," I started, disengaging from the hug, "is it just me, or are you a little more voluptuous since last I saw you". It was true; her breasts were at least two sizes larger.

"Oh, yea," she said, "I got some new tits over a year ago. Super natural movement and materials, looks totally natural. Well, except to those who know me." She smiled a bit, but not as large or bright as I remembered.

"Come on," I said, leading her to the car, "lets get some food and get settled in at home." She was grateful at this and squeezed my hand in thanks.

On the way to my house we didn't say much. Mostly she was looking at the buildings pass by, once in a while asking what one was or what some weirdo was wearing. As I pulled up to my house, she took interest again.

"Wow," she said, "this is your house? How big is it?"

"Its got 7 bedrooms," I said. "Its 3 stories including the finished basement. I renovated it when I bought it cause it use to be broken up into apartments." We got out of the car and walked inside. I pointed up stairs. "Your room is on the second floor, left hand side. I made it up this afternoon. Even left a chocolate bar on the pillow." I saw her smile as we ascended the stairs. "My rooms at the end of the hall. If you need anything come get me. There's food and tv downstairs if you want. Mi casa es su casa."

I opened the door on the left to reveal her room. It was a large bedroom with its own bathroom and shower. It was sparsely but neatly decorated in neutral colors with comfortable bedding and windows facing the park.

I set her bag down on the bed. She looked tired, and a bit ragged. She seemed less bright than I remembered her. "I am dying to hear all about your life the last few years," I said, "but I know you well enough that you will not tell me until you are ready." I walked over to her and hugged her. She hugged me back strongly. I didn't let go until she did. "I will say this though; I am beyond relieved that you called me."

"Thanks," she said, sounding relieved. "Thats why I called you." She sat down heavily on the bed. "I should have called sooner but it's been a blur. I...it was hard to realize some things. And I want to hear your story as well. Comparatively, we're polar opposites on the 'where are they now' list since high school."

I never liked to talk about money, but I had more than enough for a couple dozen lifetimes if spent properly. My house aside, I didn't really present myself that way. I had one suit and I never wore it. I did however have enough hoodies to clothe a couple small cities. A man has to be comfortable after all.

"Eh, it's not that much," I downplayed, totally successfully. "Mostly I just create stuff in my basement workshop for various companies. Freelance type stuff. Nothing spectacular."

"Right," she said dubiously. "Anyways, I really appreciate all this. And in the morning we can talk more." I took that as my cue to exit.

"Good night," I said, kissing the top of her head and closing the door behind me.

#

I tucked into bed a few minutes later and was asleep in no time. I sleep naked somewhat because I'm a hot sleeper, but mostly cause it feels good.

I wasn't sure I was dreaming, but I felt a warm presence next to me, stroking my chest. It felt nice, so I moved my arms around whatever warm body was next to me, embracing it snuggly. It was a nice feeling as it'd been a few months since I'd had a woman sleep with me, let alone sex, so a warm hand other than mine was quite welcome. But then I remember I didn't have a girlfriend currently, so whose hand is that?

I looked down to see the top of Ambers head and feel her naked body snuggled up next to mine. She was warm and soft, and it felt like the years we didn't see or talk to each other were mere days.

I decided not to disturb her, not only so she can rest but, selfishly, so she'd stay next to me. I fell asleep soon after, holding her in my arms. Before I drifted to complete blackness, I felt Amber shudder, silently crying into my shoulder.

#

It was a few weeks after Amber's arrival, while we were out at a cafe getting lunch, when I said I'd show her my lingerie shop. I told her I needed to stop by the shop to fill out some papers being the boss and all. She was giddy.

"It'll be quick. I just need to sign a bunch of stuff for orders and payroll," I said. Jessica had been handling more than normal the last few weeks as I tended to Ambers situation and tried to help her get her stuff sorted. Jessica was at times more curt than normal but it probably was due to cleaning up after drag queen lingerie parties by herself.

With Amber, I'd been mostly successful in helping her get back on her feet; I just needed to listen to her and give advice when asked. Mostly it was just offering patience until she was ready to talk. Once she opened up about things, her spirit regained some of its brilliance and her manners returned to more or less what I remembered. Her playful attitude was back in full force as well.

"Great," she said, "I've been wondering about your shop-o-sexy. Maybe I'll pick something up. That is, if I can get a discount." She stroked my leg with the side of her foot, all the way up to inside my knee. Yup, playful.

"You can help yourself to anything in there," I said. "There's even a 'secret menu' of sorts for high end stuff. The local debutantes expect it, but really its just downright slutty stuff with a couple extra 0's attached."

This seemed to intrigue Amber. "Oh, sassy. Maybe I will get something then."

We walked the few blocks to the shop and entered through the front door, a novelty for me. Jessica appeared from the back. She was wearing a pencil skirt and a jacket that made it look like she wasn't wearing a shirt under it. She was, of course, but the illusion was awesome.

"Hey Paul," she said somewhat subdued. "I got the paperwork all ready. This must be Amber." She extended her hand and shook Ambers' firmly. "Paul's told me nothing about you," she said, looking in my direction.

"Hi," Amber replied, "I'm sorry to take up so much of your boss's time. You must have been suffering without his shinning leadership and acute business acumen."

Jessica smiled at a jest at my expense. "Ha. I like you. Want me to show you some items to try while Paul 'leaders' his way to signing some forms?"

If I didn't know better, I'd say that I'm a fool for women with attitude. I bowed to both ladies and made my way to the back office. As promised, a stack of forms awaited my sign off. I sat down and got to signing, however it took the better part of an hour to get through it all. I thought about getting a rubber stamp or something, but since this is the only real work I do, its a small sacrifice.

Going back out front, I saw Jessica alone and inquired about Amber.

"She just went into studio 1 to try on some things," she said.

"Thanks," I said. "Also, who was Chelsea Adoba, and why did I just pay her $1500?"

"She's a friend from college," Jessica said. "She needed some work and she helped me clean up after the parties the last few weeks. I didn't think you'd mind." Her attitude was somewhat accusatory and even.

"Nope," I said sheepishly, "thanks for being, ugh, proactive about it."

She smiled tightly. "Go make sure your friend isn't taking the entire stock out the door with her." Another customer came in and Jessica went to attend to them. I went into Studio 1.

I knocked on the studio door, heard a muffled "Come in" and entered. The studios were roomy, oval shaped spaces with five full-door changing booths on one wall and several couches on the opposing wall. The couches (French sofa's technically, another of Jessica's astute decisions) had fragile looking legs, but like most classic designs they were well built and added class to the room. Cream and pearl stripped wallpaper surrounded the space, adding more class and made the room feel larger. The room was well lit with sconces spread around. Ambers' bag lay on a sofa, along with a pile of discard items. Seems she really was trying to take home the entire shop.

"You know," I called to the wall of doors, "someone has to hang that stuff back on the hangers." I liked to do what I could to help out Jessica. Im a big softy that way.

"No, they don't," Amber called back from the center-most door. "Jessica grabbed this stuff from a new shipment so nothing was on hangers. Besides," she opened the door, "I think I'll wear this one out."

I can be stunned by the sight of a beautiful woman. But it seemed only Amber could leave me speechless. Her ensemble of choice was a teddy that hugged every curve she had. The stripes of mesh and semi-opaque cloth that made up the garment wrapped around her in a high thigh cut bottom and a halter style top, lacing up the entire front from neck down to (I assume) crotch, revealing at once everything and not enough. She finished it with lace gloves and matching lace stockings. The entire look made me feel like my heart stopped. When I felt a beat again after a small eternity, I tried to make my brain re-engage.

"Wow," I said quietly. "You look stunning." Master of flattery, me. I kept taking her in, looking from head to toe and back again.

She smiled brightly at me. "Aw, you always know how to flatter a girl." Even her mocking tone was joyful to hear. She came into the room fully and did a pirouette for show. "I know you like it from the way you're drooling, but honestly this feels too slutty for me." She turned and looked at herself in the multiple mirrors in the room.

"I'd have to disagree on that point profusely," I offered quickly. "Slutty outfits imply that you are directly offering yourself without any consideration. Your outfit," I struggled to think of the right phrase, "says something like 'if you please me properly I might please you'." Yea, that was good, she'd totally buy that.

"No," she countered, coming away from the mirrors, "definitely slutty. But don't worry," she stroked my chin on her way to the changing booth, "there are lots more outfits to try."

Fuck. I sat down on the couch (I was too frustrated to call it a sofa) and tried to think not-Amber-clad-in-lingerie thoughts.

A few minutes later I heard a door open and Amber shuffle about the room, likely checking the mirrors to see how she liked this one. I kept my eyes closed, failing in my not-Amber-in-lingerie train of thought.

"There," she said, "this is sexy and classy and not slutty. I will definitely take this one home. What do ya think?"

I opened my eyes to see this latest torture, and was surprised again for the second time in ten minutes.

Her outfit was a white, full length spaghetti strap gown. The front and back were opaque just enough to show her skin color and shadows of cleavage, while the sides were sheer from shoulder to floor showing significant skin and curves. She turned and showed that the gown also had a slit up the side well above her hip, adding another layer of awesome to this ensemble.

I must have had a stupid look on my face because she snapped her fingers at me. "Hey, are you awake or what?"

"Sorry," I said. "You look absolutely perfect in that. I was just trying to burn that image into my mind is all."

She walked over to me and sat on my lap. The pressure in my pants from her previous outfit was uncomfortable, but this one made it downright painful. Before I could adjust anything, she kissed me. Hard and full and passionately. I instinctively kissed back and matched her passion as much as I could muster, desire fueling me. She felt so alive and vibrant that I didn't want to stop.

She spoke between kisses. "I want you," she whispered to me. "I've wanted you for days since I got out of my funk and now I can't hold out any longer." She resumed kissing me, adding her roving hands to her repertoire, eventually landing on my painfully full erection and stroking my pants gently.

"Amber," I said between kisses, "there are cameras in here." She kept on kissing.

"I unplugged it, and I locked the door," she said. Still grasping and kissing I glanced at the camera and door bolt; they were indeed unplugged and locked. Still...

"Amber," I said, "I don't want to push..."

"Hey," she said warmly, "I'm better now. Really. You helped me get back to being me. For the second time now. I don't want you because I feel I owe you something; I want you because I want to have sex, and I want to feel good when I have sex, and sex with love is the best feeling. I should have remembered my own advice."