tagMatureLiving Works of Art Ch. 02

Living Works of Art Ch. 02

byJBEdwards©

What to do with two gorgeous women?

I want to thank the readers of my story Living Works of Art not just for your generous ratings of stars, but also for your wonderful comments! I hope you are not disappointed with this sequel, but at least the sale of the ten-million-dollar apartment is included. I tried to write the story so that you do not really have to read the preceding story.


*************

Susan had stayed over at my place again. She still wanted to keep her own place. Neither one of us was ready to take the step of living together even if by now Susan had taken over one of the closets in my big two-bedroom apartment. She kept duplicates of all her feminine products too at my place. These ranged from make-up remover to a panoply of nail polish in an enormous array of colors to several different perfumes to banal items such as tampons. Luckily my apartment has one and one half baths, so I gave her all the counter space in the main bathroom and banished myself to the small one off the kitchen. Women need a lot of space. Her periods were beginning to get irregular and she felt the dreaded menopause was around the corner.

Susan was simply born a pretty woman. Even when she woke in the morning she looked gorgeous. After a cup of coffee, she could melt a heart of stone with her smile. Her eyes sparkled with mischief and when they looked at me, they shone with love. I was living a dream.

The problem with living a dream is that dreams tend to end when you wake up. I was determined never to wake up from this one, but when the telephone rang and I saw the caller ID, I woke up. Who calls at 6AM? Only one person would do that. I knew who it was even before I saw the caller ID.

"Good morning, Carol. How are you?" I said into the phone. 6AM in New York is 3AM in California and it's a strange time to be calling your ex. Carol is my ex-wife. The one flaw Susan has is that I suspect she is jealous of Carol. This is silly. I'm over Carol. Susan silently brought me a coffee as I listened to Carol on the other end of the phone. Susan saw my expression and she gave me some privacy. She knew whatever was going on over the phone was heavy.

One of the things about getting older is that your friends and family die around you if you live long enough. I had lost both of my parents long ago. Now apparently it was Carol's turn, and her mother had gone to sleep and never waked. Carol was coming to New York for the funeral. Our daughter Samantha was coming, too. I had not seen Samantha for years. This had been due to Samantha's refusal to see me.

I had loved Carol's mother. She had treated me as the long-lost son she had never had. Carol has a brother, true, but I represented the kind of son Carol's mother wanted to have had, not the son she actually did have. She even took my side in the divorce. I had stayed in touch with her after the divorce. At times I'm sure she felt closer to me than she did to Carol. Carol had moved to California to pursue her Silicon Valley dreams and was out of the picture.

Susan seemed to know everything even before I spoke. I have a transparent face and Susan was remarkably adept at reading it. She was disarmingly talented at inference. Give the woman a few scraps of information and a few facial expressions and she will weave together a story which is right more often than not.

Susan and I sat together in silence, sipping our morning coffee. I made us eggs and toast and we sat at the table for breakfast. Over easy for Susan and scrambled for me. Susan was a relocation specialist in the real estate industry. She had an executive coming in from St. Louis that day and she had twelve properties lined up for him to see, all in one long day. He had been abruptly transferred to New York for at least the next five years. The company was paying him a fortune for relocation expenses. Susan only had a half hour before she had to meet him.

I assured Susan I would be fine, and she left for the Sotheby's office where she was to meet the guy. I was always a little leery about Susan showing apartments to men who were prepared to pay over five million dollars for an apartment. My anxiety stemmed from the story she had told me about the time she showed an apartment to a man who was close to making an offer. The asking price was ten million dollars. Susan's commission if she sold such an apartment would be around $300,000 before taxes.

*************

Susan is not a twenty something bimbo. No, she's in her mid-forties but she has the body of a hot twenty something woman and the face of a Greek goddess. She told me a story about the first time she had sold an apartment to a member of the mega rich. At the time of this story she was in her mid-thirties. One can only imagine how sexy she was ten years earlier, given how sexy I find her this very day!

Sometimes when she shows off an apartment she tries to emphasize its sex appeal, if she intuits that's a way to get to the buyer. She gave me a sample when we began dating. She sat in the powder room area and pretended to be putting on make-up and asked if I could not imagine my wife sitting right there, perhaps in her bra and panties, applying make-up as she got ready for the day.

What I imagined of course was Susan herself sitting there in her bra and panties. She told me she had done this for a zillionaire who was close to making an offer on a ten-million-dollar apartment. He was from Bangalore, and his name was Mr. Ravishankar. It's easy for me to remember because I grew up with the music of Ravi Shankar and his influence on George Harrison of the Beatles.

The client Mr. Ravishankar told Susan he had a poor imagination and could she model using the powder room table for him in her bra and panties? Susan smiled politely at him, giggled to make light of his request, and declined. She quickly moved to another part of the huge apartment to show him the picture windows.

"Can people see in via these windows?" Ravishankar asked.

"Mostly, no. We're too high. Only the windows of buildings the same height or higher would be able to see into this window. This limits it severely," Susan said. "You'd have lots of privacy. Only a few windows might be able to see into your apartment when the drapes are open."

"I want you to prove it. Take off your clothes, Miss Hansen," he said.

"Excuse me?" Susan replied.

"I want you to demonstrate the privacy of these windows by removing your clothes right in front of them," he said.

"You like to make jokes, don't you?" Susan replied, laughing nervously. Susan had a quite fetching nervous laugh.

"Miss Hansen, I'm willing to pay around ten million dollars for this apartment. At the very least you can back up your claims by putting your clothes where your quite beautiful mouth is, now can't you?" he said.

"I think this is inappropriate behavior. I'm trying to convince you to buy this apartment, true, but I think you can decide how private it is or not is without me getting naked right here and right now. Maybe you would like to see the wine cellar and the storage facilities in the basement now?" Susan said, and she flashed one of her brilliant smiles.

"Let me sweeten things, Miss Hansen. Regardless of whether or not I make a successful bid on this apartment, I will give you five thousand dollars cash right now if you demonstrate its privacy by stripping naked for me," Mr. Ravishankar said.

At the time, Susan needed money. She did not need money so badly that she had to make the sale on the apartment. If she did she would be in clover. But $5,000 would go a long way to putting her personal finances above water regardless of the sale of the apartment.

A thought flashed through her mind. It was a time when Susan was rather casual about all things sexual. It was just one of many delightful features of the woman. She made a decision.

"I always tell the truth, Mr. Ravishankar," Susan said, as she began to remove her blouse.

"Call me Ravi, Miss Hansen," he said, his eyes glued to her every movement.

"You may call me Susan," Susan said as she removed her pantyhose, putting her leg on a chair and sexily peeling the hose down, one leg at a time. Susan noticed the lump in Ravi's pants as it grew, and he adjusted his stance for comfort. His evident arousal amused her.

"Do you have the money with you, on your person? Five thousand dollars in cash is a lot of money for a man to carry around," Susan said as she released the catch on her skirt and unzipped it.

"My servant has it. I'll text him right now to bring it up here. Don't worry I'll meet him at the door. You won't be exposed," Ravi said.

"Thank you," Susan said, as her skirt dropped to the floor. She stood in front of Ravi in her bra and panties. I know from my own personal enjoyable experiences that Susan favors lace bra and panty sets. A consequence of such a sartorial choice is that it is easy to see the important lady bits right through the lace. She has one bra which is especially revealing. I love it when she wears that bra.

Susan went and stood at the window, giving her bra and panty clad body a full-frontal view. "I imagine this proves the point that we have privacy. If not, I'm giving quite a show to the world."

"Yes, you now have me convinced. If you want the $5,000 however, you must be nude. Please continue undressing, Susan," Ravi said.

"You just want to see me naked," Susan said as she unhooked her bra but held it close to her breasts.

"You have me there. Any normal man would want to see a body such as yours, my dear," he said.

"Just looking, right? No touching, please," Susan said as she let her bra fall to the ground. Now she was wearing only panties.

The doorbell rang. "That must be your servant. I'll get the door," Susan said, enjoying the surprise on Ravi's face. Susan's not shy. She strode to the door and threw it open. The servant man knew Ravi so he was not overly surprised by Susan's state of undress. Ravi called out to him to give Susan $5,000 and to give him the rest.

The servant entered giving Susan her $5,000 and continuing on to Ravi. The money was five bundles of ten one-hundred-dollar bills each. Now it was Susan's turn to be surprised as he handed about twice as much cash to Ravi.

"You may go now," he said to the servant.

"May I molest her, sir?" the servant asked.

"I don't know. Let me ask her. Susan, may my servant play with your boobs a little?" Ravi asked.

"No! Absolutely not!" Susan said nervously. She was outflanked with the two men there, and she was nearly naked to boot. Her lower lip quivers when she is scared or very nervous. I find it fetching. Her lower lip was quivering heavily just then. The men were much bigger than Susan and both were quite muscular.

"Maybe later, Krishna," Ravi said. Why don't you wait in one of the bedrooms?" Ravi said.

"What's going on?" Susan asked.

"You have your money but you're not yet naked," Ravi said.

"Oh, you noticed," Susan said. "Why is Krishna your servant still here?"

"I thought maybe you'd like even more money?" Ravi said.

"More money? Why?" Susan asked.

"First complete the initial deal. Remove your panties, please, and stand in the picture window," Ravi said.

"Okay, I guess it was part of the deal," she said, as she slowly pushed down her panties and stepped out of them. She then walked, wiggling her hips for fun, over to the window. "Would you like a deep knee bend, Ravi?"

Ravi smiled broadly. He was handsome when he smiled, Susan thought. Susan did a few deep knee bends thereby showing off her unshaven pussy to Ravi's eager gaze. "Now what about the extra money?"

"Do I need to spell out what I'd like you to do for the extra money?" Ravi said.

"Just you, or you and Krishna both? He's your son, not your servant, isn't he?" Susan said. "Anyway, no you don't. I guess I know what you want. Getting me nude was just a preliminary, wasn't it? The question is, how much extra money are you offering?"

"Another ten thousand dollars," Ravi said. He showed her a pile of hundred dollar bills that was twice as thick as the bundle Susan had already put in her purse.

"This would make me one hell of an expensive whore. Why me?" Susan asked. "You can do better for less on the open market, you know."

"I want you precisely because you're not a whore and you've never done something like this before," Ravi said.

"You want to corrupt me? That's how you get your jollies, is it?" Susan said.

"Yes, exactly. Deal?"

Susan said nothing. She walked to Ravi and fished his cock out of his pants. It was already hard. She began to softly stroke it. It was an affectionate gesture. "Just you, right?" she asked.

"Well...you're right. Krishna is my son. I want to introduce him to the wonders of beautiful American women," Ravi said.

"He's young, handsome, and rich. He can find beautiful American women all by himself. No need for Daddy to pimp for him, you know," Susan said as she played with Ravi's cock with her hands. "Now why don't you undress? I like my men naked."

"You'll seduce him, too?" Ravi asked.

"Make up your mind, Daddy. You want sex with me or for me to have sex with sonny boy? Your choice," Susan said.

"Both of us," Ravi said.

"What?" Susan said.

"Both of us," Ravi repeated. "I am after all giving you $15,000."

That's where Susan stopped her story. She refused to tell me what happened, leaving it to my own imagination. Sher would not even tell me if Ravi bought the apartment. (He did, I found out later from public records.) I guess Susan knew where my imagination would go, and I guess she was okay with that. It was not hard to figure out that this was a test. Would I still love her after a confession like that?

I have to admit, though, her story turned me on. As she told it, she went through all the motions of undressing that she recounted in the story. I did not have a grown son to contribute to a little group sex when she stopped her story. I had to content myself to playing the part of the rich as Croesus Indian man Ravi. I think I did a good job. Susan had no complaints.

"You know what else?" Susan asked, as she lay next to me, her naked breasts lusciously rising and falling with her breathing. She was languorously playing with my now flaccid cock.

"No, what?"

"Ravi told all his rich friends about me. When they were in the market for a new apartment he told them to look me up. I am, after all, a damn good real estate agent," she said. "I made a lot of money. Sotheby's began to introduce the new super-rich clients to me. I became the resident expert on apartments for the super-rich.

"Did you sell a lot of expensive apartments?" I asked.

"Some. The rich are very hard to please, to say the least," she said.

"Did you make enough money selling the apartments?" I asked.

"Selling one a year was enough for me, I was not greedy. I showed the apartments to a lot of men, too. Selling apartments was not the only way I made money, though," she said, and she winked at me as my cock was now hard enough so that she put it in her mouth.

"Oh?" I kind of asked. "Pray tell."

"Well I guess you can imagine the other ways, no? Ravi's friends were a lot like him," Susan said. This stiffened my cock remarkably. "Yes, I guess you can indeed imagine," Susan continued and she giggled her fetching giggle before beginning to suck me in earnest.

After a while I pulled her off and rolled her onto her back and climbed up and aboard. "I love you Harry," she said. "Can you still want me after all I just told you?"

"Let me show you," I said, and I saw that she was already good and wet. The memory of the story had aroused her, too! "Did you do it in the picture window? My window is probably smaller, but I'm sure I have more curious neighbors?"

I was now inside her enjoying her tight, sweet, wet and velvety passage. It was heavenly.

Susan gasped at my sudden and deep entry. "Maybe another time, lover, we can do it in the window," she managed to get out before she added, "Ooh yes! Oh, my goodness, just like that. Oh, Harry please always love me. Please, always?" and then she moaned as I continued to pump into and out of her, over and over again. As I pumped I leaned down and suckled a bit at her boobs, taking a tit between my teeth and Susan groaned a groan of extraordinary pleasure.

I realized she was nervous and insecure after her recounting of her sexy exploits of a decade earlier. I guess some men would have been grossed out? I was not one of those men.

**************

Now she was going out to help some new rich guy choose an apartment. I wondered if he knew what she was willing to do to sell an apartment? Was she still willing? Was she going to cheat on me? Is that why she told me the story of Ravi and his mega rich friends? Susan said it was all in the past; it was ten years ago for Pete's sake! I could not help but wonder, however. Suddenly I was the one who was insecure!

A couple of days later I had my noise cancelling headphones on while I worked away at my computer. I loved the way the headphones suppressed the constant drone of the air conditioner. I was surprised by a phone call. I was not expecting one.

"Hello?" I spoke into the phone.

"Hello Daddy. It's Samantha. Want to take a break from your work and rendezvous with your daughter? I'll treat for the coffee."

I was in shock. I was hearing from my sixteen-year-old daughter for the first time in five years. I knew she was in town for the funeral of her grandmother but I had no expectation of hearing from her. I was hoping at least to see her in person at the funeral and now here she was calling me to rendezvous for coffee? I was in a state of stunned silence.

"Dad? You still there? Dad? Did you hang up on me? Not that I'd blame you if you did. Dad?"

"I'm here, Sammy. I'm just a wee bit surprised is all," I managed to get out.

"Good surprise, or bad surprise?" Samantha asked. "And Dad, I'm not Sammy anymore. I'm Samantha."

Samantha looked great. She had inherited Carol's pretty face, dynamite body with generous breasts and a cute little ass, but she had longer legs than Carol, being around 68 inches tall. That, and her eyes, she got from me.

She did not look 16, but more like a 21-year-old young woman on the make. Her blouse was low cut and her skirt was tight and short. Maybe that's the way teenagers dress these days? They don't know just how irresistibly sexy it makes them look now, do they? It's different though when the sexpot jailbait is your own daughter!

Samantha asked to meet me so after the initial hello (no hugs or kisses; we both felt awkward) I decided to let her speak first and set the agenda.

"You're probably wondering why I broke my boycott of you, Dad, and asked to meet you?" she began.

"It crossed my mind, yes. I've missed you Samantha," I said, stifling a tear forming in my right eye.

"Don't get all mushy on me, Dad. This is serious business. Mom needs you," she said, studying my face. She was so much like her mother. I stayed quiet.

"Not just for the funeral," Samantha continued. "I know you'll be there for that and hopefully you will sit with her. She misses you and she is floundering without you. You were so cruel to abandon her, Dad."

"I didn't abandon her Sammy," seeing her face, I said, "I mean Samantha. You'll understand when you're older. We do still love each other, you know. We just cannot seem to live together. As your Mom herself put it, she's too wild for me."

"You abandoned her when you went to Ghana for three years. She cried herself to sleep for months after you left. I could hear her. Finally, after giving up on you returning anytime reasonable, she began to seek comfort elsewhere. All those men who came and went with Mom were just sex substitutes for the real thing. You're the real thing. She's crying herself to sleep again, Dad. She needs you, even if you are a bastard."

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