Outsourced

"You just might," I concede.

"Thank you, Rick. Give some thought as to what you want to do next time. I have many skills."

She kisses me on the cheek and disappears into the night.

I return to the study and lean against the door. "What do you want for supper?" I ask.

Leslie smiles. "We have some time. Let's go out."

***

Naima and I meet several more times over the next couple of weeks. I have to admit that Leslie may have been onto something. Satisfied as I am, I'm no longer upset by the lack of physical intimacy between us. For her part, Leslie appears to be more relaxed. She still works a great deal, but has found time for platonic pursuits for us. I realize that we have become more like friends than lovers.

One warm evening, we take the dog for a walk along the lake, holding hands as we used to at the beginning of our relationship. I'm baffled by the incongruity of it, this common contact that announces to the world that Leslie and I are a couple, that we possess each other.

"How are things working out with Naima?" asks Leslie.

"Good," I say. "Things are good. And how's the arrangement working out for you?"

"I'm content."

We walk in silence for a few minutes.

"Aren't you worried?" I ask.

"About what?"

"That our relationship is being diluted. I mean, the only thing that's keeping us from being simple roommates is the intimacy."

"We're being intimate now."

"That's not what I mean and you know it."

"I like the way things are now."

"You don't mind sharing me?"

"No more than you mind being shared."

That, I think, is the nub of the issue. Despite the easy comfort of my relationship with Leslie, I find myself looking forward to Naima's visits. Moreover, I look forward to getting to know Naima better, outside of the role that Leslie has defined for her.

I wonder if Leslie has thought of that eventuality; that neither Naima nor I would forever be satisfied with the constraints placed upon us. Naima, I know, has the capacity for so much more, and I have the desire to explore it.

Agreements, after all, are only as good as the willingness of the parties to honour them.

***

Naima is a vision tonight. I kiss her eagerly as soon as the front door closes and she responds with equal fervour.

"Where's Leslie?" she asks.

"At a client meeting. She won't be home till later."

"Good. I work better unsupervised."

I lead her to the kitchen. "I just opened a bottle of wine. Would you like some?"

"It's against the rules, but I'll gladly make an exception for you."

I fill two glasses and frantically think of a toast. "To us," I say. It's the best I can do.

"And to what I think is a mutually satisfying arrangement."

We clink glasses and drink.

"You look beautiful tonight."

Naima blushes prettily. "Beautiful for hired help?"

"Just beautiful."

"But I'm still the hired help."

There was no answer for it. She could be more, I think again.

She shrugs and sits on my lap, straddling my legs. Her arms drape over my shoulders and she tilts her head to kiss me.

"I missed you," I say.

"Me too." She presses against me.

Her tongue seeks mine and I taste the wine she has drunk. She could be more. There was nothing preventing it.

"I want you," she whispers into my ear. "I ways I haven't expressed yet."

The way she says it, purring her hot breath in my ear, sets my heart racing.

Naima rises and takes my hand. "Let me show you."

Naima stands before me in the dim light of the bedroom, clad in little more than a lace bra, garters and stockings. The white of the ensemble contrasts deliciously with the colour of her skin. With a one-handed movement that I've never been able to master, she unfastens the bra and allows it to fall to the floor.

She performs a slow turn, allowing my eyes to feast on her curves and the promise of claiming her and of being claimed in turn.

"Come here," I say.

She climbs onto the bed and straddles me. I weigh her breasts in my hands, thrilling at their fullness.

She grabs my wrists and places them to either side of my head. "Lie back and enjoy," she says.

I close my eyes and soon my face is buried in the cleft between her breasts. There's a hint of perfume. She moves and washes the silken softness of her breasts over my face, allowing her nipple to travel lightly across my mouth. On its return path, I trap the nipple between my lips.

Her breath catches in her throat. "Naughty boy," she murmurs.

Naughty or no, I take a moment to suck and nibble.

Naima hums her pleasure and plucks the nipple out to insert the other one, pressing her breast against my face. I decide that if I were to go, suffocation by breast wasn't the worst way.

"Let me return the favour," she whispers as she shimmies down my body. Soon she's nibbling at my own nipples, and I get an idea of what it might feel like for her.

She continues her passage down my body, kissing and licking as she goes.

"Oh my," she says as she grasps me. "You appear to be ready." She licks me and I moan as her mouth envelopes me.

After a few minutes of bliss, she rises. "I have a treat for you," she says. "Close your eyes."

I comply. I hear her rummaging around and soon I feel slippery fingers on my cock.

She positions herself above me, and her ass brushes my lower abdomen. Her fingers grasp me and I feel the passage of my cock against the fleeting softness of her labia and then beyond. I thrill at a gentle resistance that works against the crown of my cock. The pressure against me increases and gives ever so slightly. I sneak a peek and observe the hourglass contour of her back. My eyes rake down her body to the flare of her hips, the twin mounds of her ass and my cock poised at its entrance.

Her hips swivel and descend while she holds me in position.

"Oh, God," I gasp.

"You're peeking."

The head of my cock burrows into the tightness of her anus and she is able to let go of me.

"I think I found the spot," she whispers.

"I think so too," I gasp.

She lowers herself upon me in gradual increments, rising a little and then lowering herself a little more than before. She keeps this up for several minutes and she gasps when I breach the first ring of muscle. She tightens around me and pauses for a moment.

She grasps and spreads her cheeks and lowers herself again. The pressure she exerts on me is exquisite and I close my eyes again and give myself over to it.

She repeats her movements and I feel her tight embrace descend upon me in by delicious degrees until she sits on me completely and I am enveloped.

"You feel great," she gasps.

Her muscles tighten around my base, tighter than I would have thought possible.

"Don't move," I gasp.

She lies back on me and I fondle her breasts and run my hands down to the slick folds of her cunt. I tease out the pearl of her clitoris and rub it as she grinds against me.

"That's good," she sighs. "Right there."

She slides against me, her back on my chest.

I strum her clitoris and her breathing deepens. Her juices mingle with the lube that she has applied to me as she sways upon me.

Soon her breathing comes in gasps and the unconscious movement of her hips grows frenzied. She shudders against me and bears down, burying me deep within her.

She squeals unabashedly and I'm glad that Leslie is away. Soon she's driving her ass onto my cock with greedy thrusts while I try as best I can to stroke her evasive clitoris. With a final arching of her back and a throaty moan, she reaches climax.

"That was..." she begins, but another wave steals her words.

She rocks against me until the spasms pass.

"That was good," she gasps.

That was good, I think. So good that my own climax would have gone unnoticed and unheralded in the frenzy of thrusting and squeezing that she has subjected me to.

"Now it's your turn," she says. She perches herself up on her hands, sets her feet on either side of my thighs, and leans back. Her hair tickles my chest. "Fuck me."

I raise my hips and thrust slowly into her, taking my time and trying to calm myself. There's a bliss in this embrace that I've never felt before and I want to enjoy it as long as I can.

I'm lost to the sensations when a shocked voice intrudes. "Oh! Excuse me. I didn't realize you'd be here."

Leslie. Her evening must have ended early. Either that or Naima and I have exceeded our time limit.

Leslie approaches the bed. "Are you where I think you are?"

I look past Naima's back and observe Leslie. Her face is averted but her eyes are on us, or rather the parts of us that are joined. I realize that Leslie is referring to the location of my cock. Leslie has never allowed me to breach the walls of that particular citadel and I can't help feeling a little smug. Naima gives me an ungentle squeeze and I moan. It's all the response I can manage.

"That's extra, isn't it?" asks Leslie.

Naima bears down on me. "Oh! Oh, yes!" she squeals.

"Damn," Leslie mutters.

"Pass me the lube, will you," gasps Naima.

"Where?" asks Leslie.

I can't resist grabbing her hips and thrusting into her. "There... oh fuck!... on the night table."

Naima grasps the bottle of lube and I hear the door closing gently. I feel Naima's hand anointing me and feel the lube trickle past my balls.

"That was embarrassing," I say.

"Think of how I feel."

"Embarrassed?"

"Horny. Fuck me."

So I do, bucking into her as she grinds and moans and clenches and accepts spurt after spurt of my essence.

We shower afterward. There's a strange tenderness to the actions. I'd like to think that the stirrings of feeling within me are shared, but I can't quite convince myself of it. She is, after all, the hired help.

I find something else stirring and she looks at it in surprise.

She strokes me tenderly. "Seems like a terrible thing to waste," she says as the water cascades over us.

"Again?" I ask.

"This one's on the house," she says. "Do it just for me."

So I do.

***

Over the last month of so, Naima and I have explored each other and the possibilities with such abandon that I can't help but to feel a little sad for Leslie. She doesn't know what she's missing; or if she does know, she doesn't seem to care.

Leslie is so buried in work, so concerned about the bottom line, that she doesn't realize that she has essentially lost control of this project.

I sense, though I can't be sure, that Naima might have feelings for me that go beyond the commercial arrangement. What I do know is that come what may, I can no longer be Leslie's in the way she wants me to be.

Naima and I have arranged to meet over the lunch hour. I have no ulterior motives; I just want to see her.

She presses her lips to mine when we meet. The kiss isn't business-like; there's a genuine warmth and hunger. She might be a great actress or I might be supremely gullible, but I sense that this relationship is already veering into uncharted territory.

"I'd like to take you out for dinner," I say.

"I don't know. I think that's a breach of the non-competition agreement."

I'd forgotten about that. Seems terribly naive, granting a prospective competitor such intimacy and expecting them not to take advantage of it.

There's a twinkle in Naima's eyes and I'm heartened. "Is it enforceable?" I ask.

She shakes her head and smiles. "I don't think so. It's meant as a comfort to the client. I've never seen it enforced. Normally, the cost of enforcement is not worth it. There are some things that are foolish to outsource."

I smile back. "Where would you like to eat?"

***

Thanks for reading. As always, your comments are greatly appreciated.