Life Of Paul - PDX Ch. 03

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 unintentional.

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If you are enjoying these stories, leave a comment about what you liked or didn't, or things you want to ready more of. I'll take advice into consideration when I'm working out the next parts of the LoP stories.

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End of March 1999

Tuesday morning after my initial meeting with Rebecca came bright and semi-early with a knocking at my door. It wasn't a super insistent knock, but then again, I wasn't really expecting anyone for any reason. The knock came again, so I bowed to curiosity, grabbed a pair of sweat pants to put on on the way, and went downstairs to answer.

I am certainly glad I decided to answer.

A woman, perhaps in her mid 20's, was standing on my porch holding a plate of what appeared to be marshmallow rice bars.

"Good morning," she said brightly in a delightful southern accent. Noticing my attire, or lack of it, her brow furrowed a little. "I didn't wake you, did I?"

I reflexively ran my hand through my hair to make myself less disheveled. I'd like to think that it worked.

"No, it's fine," I reassured her. "I was just getting up."

"Great," she replied just a brightly as before. "I didn't get a chance to welcome you to the neighborhood when you moved in, so I thought I'd do so now."

She held out the tray of marshmallow rice treats. I took them and seriously considered having them for breakfast. They were, after all, mostly cereal and smelled yummy.

"Thanks," I said earnestly. I held out my hand. "I'm Paul. Thank you for welcoming me."

She shook it firmly. "Amanda," she said, "I live directly across the street."

"Would you like to come in," I offered. "I was about to make some coffee."

"Not right now, but thank you," she replied. "I saw you unpacking last week but I was on my way back to work, or I'd have offered to help."

"No worries, I appreciate the thought." I set the tray down on the table. "What is it that you do," I asked.

"I'm a software engineer. Mostly banking software but a couple games as well." She took a peek around the inside, taking in some details, so I took a chance to look her over.

She was certainly pretty, with a jaw length bob cut of medium brown hair and wire rimmed glasses covering her hazel eyes. She seemed to want to hide her triangle shaped face, but couldn't quite disguise her beauty. She was wearing an overly large sweater with MIT on the front that went past her hips, but did nothing to hide what was obviously a very ample bosom. It also contrasted with the rather large cross on a chain around her neck. Her loose, red plaid pants ended in a pair of white Doc Marten boots.

She was attractive to say the least, but looked more punk rock than I'd have expected a computer geek to be. She also seemed to take great strides to hide her looks.

"Awesome," I told her. "I was thinking of getting into software but it seemed a bit out of my league.

"What do you do," she asked, turning her attention back fully towards me.

"Well," I said, trying to think of some creative way to describe that I did fuck all for a job. "I do some hardware engineering, but most recently I bought a business here in town that I'm hoping to turn around. This is a new venture for me so hopefully things work out."

"Nice," she said, interested. "Any place I might have heard of?"

"Probably not, its pretty specialized." Not wanting to say outright that I owned a lingerie shop, I told her the street it was on and what it was close to.

"The lingerie shop," she asked with a hint of excitement.

Fucking hell, she was smart. "Yea," I said a little more sheepishly than I wanted too.

"Cool," she said. "That place has some neat things, although I never buy from there if I'm honest. But good luck with it."

"Thanks," I said. "Are you sure you wouldn't like a coffee?"

"No, I have to get to work. But again, welcome to the neighborhood. And enjoy the treats." She turned and walked down the steps of the porch.

Walked may have been incorrect, as she sort of skipped down them. Enough to raise her sweater a bit and show she had a great looking, pleasingly round ass under those semi-loose pants. More desirable than that though, was the fact that I could have listened to her speak in that soft southern drawl all day.

Closing the door, I picked up the treats and started eating one right away. They were really good and, as I said, mostly cereal, so I felt perfectly justified in having a second one as I made coffee. And a third while I drank coffee.

Planning out the rest of my day, I knew I had to go food shopping if I was going to make dinner for Morgan and Rebecca tonight. And I also had to go furniture shopping as I didn't have a table to eat off of.

Grabbing a forth treat, I went upstairs to dress and prepare for the evening.

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As Tuesday evening started to fall, the sound of a small car turning into my driveway caught my attention from the kitchen. I couldn't see what the car looked like, but I did recognize the slender form of Rebecca getting out.

She approached the door but I opened it before she could knock.

"Hi", I said with a bit more emphatically than I probably should have. She smiled slyly at my enthusiasm.

"Good evening," she replied. She came in and I took her long jacket to hang up. She was wearing an ankle length maroon dress with tulip sleeves (I've been studying such things) and a waist tie. The outfit would be conservative and even church going appropriate if not for the deep-V neckline that ended just below her sternum, showing off a magnificently tantalizing amount of her C-cup cleavage, as well as a few of my favorite freckles. Her lips were also shade of red that was semi-bright and glistened.

"Wow," I commented, "you look wonderful."

She spun around, making her dress flare out slightly. "Thanks," she said, smiling widely. She approached me and stopped just short of us actually touching each others chests. I could feel the heat of her breath on me.

"And," she said softly, smirking now like a cat teasing a canary, "since you're no doubt wondering, I am wearing something under my dress to make my breasts so appealing." She ran her hands gently over the mounds of her bosom as she spoke. "However, that's the only thing underneath, and it's easy to take off."

She leaned up slightly and kissed me right on the tip of my nose. If it wasn't for the sudden tightness in my dress slacks, I'd have probably been transfixed there all evening.

Snapping back to reality, I smile my best awkward smile and invited her into the kitchen for some wine and chatting before Morgan arrived.

Pouring out a glass for her, she sat at the counter while I continued chopping vegetables.

"This is a really nice place," she started, "and you said you just moved in?"

"Only about a week ago," I said, dumping onions into a bowl. I was making stir fry which was like 90% prep and 10% cooking. "I only really know a few people here, but I met a neighbor today and she seemed really nice."

"Are all of the people you met women?" she asked, still smirking.

"No, I've met..." I was at a lost to name one non-woman I've made friends with in Portland. "Ok, then, yes, they've been pretty much all women. Which does sound sorta weird saying it out loud."

"No, it isn't that weird at all," Rebecca commented, taking a sip.

Thinking she was going to continue unprompted, I gave her a moment. Then another. After about nine hundred more moments I finally broke down.

"And why, pray tell, is that not weird," I asked her.

She smiled at making me ask. "It is a well documented fact that pheromones play a huge role in how we interact with each other as a species. Some people smell attractive to others, some repulsive. Some can smell intoxicating, some tantalizing, some infuriating, and others can be just a tab bit off.

"There is not a lot of research into it other than basic questions posed. Scientists know pheromones exist and that we respond to them. Colognes, perfumes, all of those work with our body chemistry and smell slightly different from one person to the next.

"I'll bet a thousand dollars you can name someone off the top of your head that you'd recognize in an instant if the came within smelling distance of you."

"Amber," I responded without thinking.

"Oh," Rebecca perked up at such a quick response, "that sounds like a fantastic story."

Considering what I had to lose by telling Rebecca about my relationship with Amber, I decided that I'd humor her point a bit.

"She was the first woman I had sex with," I said. "She is beautiful and bright and sexy and fun.

"But yes, when we were together she smelled..." I struggled for the words. "All I could describe it as would be a warm summer day."

Rebecca was quiet for a few moments before responding. "I can see that you cared for her very much."

"Still do," I replied. "She's in Florida right now working on becoming a model."

"Must be hard. Do you keep in touch much?"

"Honestly, I haven't heard from her in over eight months. I hope she's doing OK."

Rebecca took a drink and was silent again for a few more moments before speaking again.

"But you see my point though. We have smells to each other that currently defy our scientific understanding. For instance, you, no offense, do not fit the typical model for a desirable male."

"Not the greats pick-up line I've heard, but I'll take it," I retorted.

"I said you weren't typical. You aren't what is showing up in magazine ads or movies. You are handsome," she said with a smile, "even dashing, but it's your pheromones that also help greatly with your appeal to women."

Turning to face her, I asked, "You think it's only my pheromones?"

Rebecca glanced down at my crotch briefly before answering. "The fact that you have what can only be described as a third forearm between your legs does not make you appealing.

"Don't get me wrong, its a very nice bonus, but your attitude, your confidence, the care you show towards people, that is what contributes to your pheromones making you desirable."

I finished the vegetable chopping and poured myself a glass of wine. "Honestly," I said sitting at the counter next to Rebecca, "I'm still flying high from the dashing comment."

"And humbleness, that is very appealing to some as well.

"Also," she continued, "it works the other way. Those that are depressed, or manic, alcoholics, drug users and the like give off the inverse. All the mood and drugs can negatively affect your pheromones, making you literally give off a stink of desperation. And while I can't speak for all women, I do not find that desirable to be around."

I thought about this for a few moments. Maybe that was why I didn't have sex until I was 18; I gave off a scent of sadness or something simlar that women found repulsive.

It was another reason to thank Amber for what she did for me. Which started a new pang of missing her.

"In any case," I said, "I am glad you don't find my smell yucky." We clinked glasses and toasted my being desirable. Or at least I did; it was something to be thankful for.

As we sat chatting for another quarter hour, I heard another car pull into the driveway. A few moments later Morgan opened the front door and strolled into the kitchen. She had just come from work I think, as she was wearing a knee length black pencil skirt, and her signature buttoned-up long sleeve white blouse, tailored especially for her curvaceous frame.

"Uh, knock much," I asked.

"Oh please," she huffed, "you like it when I'm forceful".

Trying, and failing, to not blush at her comment, Morgan sat her bag down on the table and started withdrawing documents. She seemed just a little out of sorts so I poured a glass of wine, which she took readily and downed quickly. She offered me her empty glass, which I refilled as she continued pulling out documents.

"I haven't eaten since breakfast so lets make this quick," she said, taking a swig from her glass.

Rebecca and I sat across from Morgan and, pens at the ready, signed where she told us and initialed where she told us. The whole thing took about half an hour but when it was done Morgan let out a large sigh as she started putting the papers away.

"Sorry to rush things, and for the somewhat snotty attitude towards you both," she said, sitting back in her chair finally. "We had a large snafu with a bunch of clients and had to work round the clock the last few days. This was the last thing on my list and now that it's done I could use a hot meal and a lot more wine."

Rebecca, being oh so accommodating, refilled Morgans now empty glass. I got up and started the stove up in order to get dinner sorted. Since it was stir fry it was long to setup but quick to cook, so we were eating within 15 minutes.

"Wow," commented Rebecca after a few bites, "this is really good. Where did you learn to cook?"

Swallowing my own bite down quickly, I tried to sound cool. "A woman I wanted to impress. She was an aspiring chef and I let her try things out on me and teach me in exchange for some stuff."

Morgan, now working on her forth glass of wine, had some insights on my comment. "You mean you fucked her and she taught you to cook?"

Rebecca hid her smirk behind her own glass as I blushed again. "No," I said a bit defensively. "However, we did go on dates and once it did go in that direction."

"My apologies; she taught you to cook, and then you fucked," she said.

"Anyways," I said, directing the conversation to a not-fucking direction. Turning to Rebecca, I asked, "So what are your plans now? Stay in Portland or move to sunnier climates?"

Rebecca thought about it over another bite of her dinner. "I'm not sure right now," she said. "I'd love to travel a bit, and I certainly can go anywhere I want now.

"Still, despite the rain and long winters, I do love living in Portland. So I might spend a month or two here or there, but I don't see myself moving."

"How about activities," Morgan asked. "Got to keep yourself busy or you'll go nuts."

"True," Rebecca replied. "I do have hobbies but I'm not sure if I want to pursue any of those full time."

We ate for a few minutes in silence until everyone had finished. I collected the dishes and offered some to top anyone off on wine, which was declined.

"If I have any more," Morgan commented, "you'll need to drag me upstairs, cause I wouldn't be walking."

"And what makes you think I'll drag you upstairs? I have a couch down here and I've been known to be lazy."

"I'd help carry her up," Rebecca offered, taking another sip.

"Deal," said Morgan, nursing the remains of her own glass.

"Oh, I nearly forgot," Rebecca mentioned, "I have gifts for the both of you."

She rose up and retrieved two slim packages from her bag. They were the size of a wrapped book but considerably lighter.

"It's not going to blow up, is it," I asked in jest.

"No," Rebecca said, "but it might lead to some... explosions, of a sort." Her smirk was playful in the extreme. "These gifts also come with an offer as well."

"Oh," chimed in Morgan, "was this about what we talked about?"

"Precisely," confirmed Rebecca. Morgan sat up a little straighter in her chair.

"Why do I get the feeling I'm being ambushed," I said, holding my gift up to the light, as if it would reveal some clues. "I hate not knowing things that others know. And you two talked about something, so does that mean you aren't mad a me, Morgan?"

Morgan laughed lightly at my question. "No, I'm not, and I wasn't really before either. I knew you were gonna be hornswoggled by Rebecca's spectacular legs and ass..."

"Why, thank you, Morgan," Rebecca interjected.

"You're welcome. So really I was just messing with you. And lastly, I wouldn't say ambushed, but I do think you'll like what it is that's being offered," said Morgan.

"I think so as well," confirmed Rebecca.

I slowly peeled open the paper of my gift and opened the plain white box. Inside were a pair of shiny black briefs. They were similar to the red ones I got from the shop previously. Holding them up, I saw they had mesh stripes down the sides and a much larger pouch than the other ones. The pouch, also, was made out of mesh and was only semi-transparent.

"Oh, nice," Morgan said, smiling at me.

"I had to make some alterations," Rebecca said, "to account for your, well, significant endowment.

"Custom pieces are also a service of the shop so I'll need to show you around that portion as well. But for now, these should be much more comfortable when you're... excited"

I held them to me and thought they would likely fit. "So," I said, "am I assuming you'd like me to model these?"

"A little. But now, Morgan, your turn," Rebecca said.

Morgan opened up her gift and held it up. It was a small, red plaid corset that featured those shelf bra cups. It had a halter that went around the outside of the cups as well as garter strap. Peeking across, I saw stockings in the box as well.

"For that one," Rebecca said, "I added the shelf cups for a bit of support. I know you take great strides to make sure your bust is both beautiful and comfortable, so I thought to extend that same courtesy."

"And the garter straps," asked Morgan.

Rebecca smiled. "That, admittedly, was for whoever you show this too. Men always love garter straps and hosiery."

"I can confirm that fact, yes," I offered.

Draining her wine glass, Rebecca turned to me. "Now, to the offer," she started.

"Morgan and I discussed this at length and we are both in agreement on it, however you are free to choose as you wish to."

"No offense, but I sort of doubt that," I said.

"Oh, you can choose," Morgan chimed in, "but I know you'll say yes."

Rebecca continued. "I told you when we met last that I was somewhat adventurous. Morgan here, as I have come to find out, is also adventurous. And from what she's told me, as well as from my own observations, you, Paul, are also the same way. Or at least willing to try new things."

"I would agree to that," I said.

"So what we propose, good sir, is that you and Morgan and I spend the night together fulfilling each others fantasies."

Rebecca let that sink in for a few moments before continuing. I said nothing for fear of whatever spell was being woven would be broken.

"From talking, I know Morgan has a few kinks; one of which is watching herself being fucked. It's something that I find interesting and also arousing, and I'd like to help her with that."

"I was aware of Morgan's likes, but what is it that you'd be wanting to fulfill," I asked. "Should we proceed, of course," I finished trying to sound like I could take it or leave it.

Morgan didn't buy it one bit, and snorted into her wine glass. Rebecca smiled still, amusement in her eyes.

"My fantasies are, quite frankly, many and varied. However, one I think you could specifically help with is being dominated. I'd like to be treated like a fuck toy; played with, forced to do things, bent and twisted for both of your pleasures, and left a dirty, debauched mess after you were through with me."

The idea of that sent what little blood remaining in my brain straight to my pants region. It was easy to play it cool and say nothing as I had totally lost the ability to form words at that moment.

"So," Morgan said, "what do you think?"

Summoning the blood back to my speech center, I said "And what, pray tell, do you think my fantasy is?"

Rebecca had an answer for that too. "As I said, Morgan likes to watch herself. And to help with that, I'm going to be recording the whole thing so she can watch it whenever she wants.