Power Play Pt. 07

AFTERNOON: "THE INTERVAL"

When I returned from the bathroom, she was sitting, on one of my metal stools, in the open-plan kitchen, sipping a glass of water. Neither of us bothered to get dressed; I took notice of her tight, taut-skinned tits, alluring as always, their nipples beginning to relax from their erect state, and of her pussy, still wet, leaving damp smudges on the leather seat of the stool. Curling her lips into a smile, she lowered her gaze to inspect my cock; it was now falling down, getting softer.

"It's hot."

I pulled up a stool closer to her. Only now, the events of before, at work, were beginning to come back to me, and with them, the associated anxiety. "Oh, and so are you."

She chuckled and tossed her head back seductively, then crossed her legs on the stool for more comfortable position. Her snatch got hidden from my view; she noticed the disappointed look in my eyes and gave out a soft laugh. "Not to worry, love. You'll get in there again soon." My pupils widened. I leaned in for a kiss, sweet and gentle at first, but she turned it into a more passionate one, with tongues. It was drugging. She looked down. "We'd better stop, there it goes up again." She uttered the words lightly, like a joke, but it didn't come across as laughing at my maleness. The cock sure did come back up; it was easily hardened.

"Something bothering you, sweetie?" I met her gaze, suddenly intense. She seemed like she took notice of the anxiety behind my eyes. I hesitated. "What is it?" she pressed on.

"Well—" There wasn't really an easy way of saying this.

"Go on. I am a good listener." She held out her hand and put it on my shoulder. There was a genuine concern there, I thought.

She added playfully, "I am not just a good slut, you know."

A few images of her against the headboard and my cock jamming into her the slut flashed in my mind. I allowed a cascade of laughter out. Her friendly, now quite asexual manner, broke the dam - all the more surprising as she sat in front of me completely naked.

Slowly, stopping now and again for sips of water, in slightly shaky voice, I told her the story of this morning and the "lived experience denial" accusation. She spotted all the moments where I felt my voice would give way - every time there was a squeeze of my hand, a peck on the cheek or some other tiny, but obvious, gesture. My emotions wouldn't let me tell the story matter-of-factly - there was too much at stake. She listened to "the narrative" - words I would use in my lectures - her expression betraying accumulating levels of incredulity.

"Shit," she finally commented, running her fingers across my cheeks, effectively cupping my face. "You must have really needed that fuck - no wonder!" That was not meant to be a joke, I knew, but an expression of sincerity.

A few seconds passed as our eyes met. She plunged hers deeply into mine and her palm brushed across one of her breasts. I thought I had a good idea of what she would say next.

"Poor sweetheart," she started, keeping as close to me as she was before. "You must be feeling absolutely devastated. I can't even imagine how I'd feel about this." I nodded with relief. Having her on my side was important. She didn't say anything about what I might have done to deserve being accused of denying some their "lived experience". I didn't ask and it remained unspoken between us, but I sensed quite strongly she agreed with me that those kind of accusations were blown up in society and essentially baloney. I didn't need to ask. "I wish I could do something to help," she went on, "at the meeting, I mean." I mumbled a sound of appreciation. There was no way anyone could help me at the actual meeting - we knew that - the notice was too short and the people to attend it were chosen already. I imagined the letter John told me about would now be in my pigeonhole - not that I was going back there before the next day!

I smiled a weak grateful smile. "I know, love. I know you would."

"I am just so angry with them! How could they! It's your job and your life!" she exclaimed and threw arms in the air, making her breasts jiggle. A delightful, tasty sight. "Do you want me to accompany you tomorrow on the way there?" she asked.

"No, it's fine. It is, really. Having your support is all that matters. I've got savings, so if they decide to give me a sack, I will survive." The shaky voice returned. I stopped, hesitating what to say next. It was tough collecting my thoughts and thinking logically with this nude, luscious and angelic figure in front of me. "Uh—uh—"

"What?" she asked.

"I can't think straight with you in front of me."

I blushed. She blushed.

"Oh darling." She was her romantic self again. Those seamless shifts between the romantic angel and slutty whore were truly amazing. "I don't know what I am taken more by - your making love to me or talking like this." The fact she used the phrase making love did not escape me. "Shall I get dressed? Is this—" she pointed to her breasts and then her pussy, "—too distracting?"

I laughed in self-mockery. Men are really quite simple creatures. "Yes, please."

She kissed me on the cheek on the way to the bedroom to collect and put on her clothes. "You don't have to be getting dressed, by the way!" she said over her shoulder leaning down to pick up her clothes from the floor.

I helped myself to some more water. She returned to the same stool soon, wearing what she had arrived in before, but still shoeless. I was standing against the counter, holding a glass in my hand. "All I am thinking now is getting my mind off all this before tomorrow, but not sure how— it seems too big an issue to get out of my head—"

She frowned, thinking, considering options before, seconds later, a smile crept up onto her face. "Did you think of work at all when we fucked?" she asked straightforwardly.

"No." That much was rather obvious.

"Then, still tonight," she spoke quite matter-of-factly, "we should do more of it." She extended her arm and her fingers wrapped around my balls, stroking and scratching gently. I gasped, but still did say, "I think I am quite spent for now, love."

She nodded understandingly. "For now, sure, but give it a few hours - surely, you will recover?" She had a point. It was afternoon, but only a few minutes before 3pm. Plenty of time - for what? What did she have a in mind? "How about 8pm?"

I admitted openly this was sufficient time to do "something more" and nodded.

"It will be all about you," she said expectantly, "and all about him," she stroked my growing cock under her fingers. "I'll come back here at 8?" I nodded, suddenly panting irregularly. "Treat him well before then." She pursed her lips and playfully kissed the slit on its top. I ran a hand through her hair.

"I love whoring for you." She sighed deeply.