Real Estate Games Pt. 02

2404 Surrender Court

Since this was the first of what I imagined would be numerous romantic evenings in our temporary business/love affair; I dressed the part. An aqua cocktail dress which flared freely around the hips accentuated my flat tummy and framed my bosom for optimal viewing. Nothing extravagant mind you, but sufficiently formal to set the tone, yet playfully suggestive. And even though it was a bit tight in places, I didn't expect to keep it on for very long.

Given the new circumstances, I was a bit unsure about my arrival time. If I was Mark's realtor, I would get to the house fifteen minutes early, turn all the lights on and generally get the place ready to sell. But if I was his lover, I'd be several minutes late... a lady never waits for the gentleman. I compromised and planned to arrive exactly at 7:00 pm.

It was no coincidence that the property I chose was one of the higher end homes on my list. It was on a ten-acre wooded lot with no neighbors in sight. A well-stocked bar ensured we wouldn't get thirsty. The master bedroom sported a four-poster king sized bed with a secluded hot tub just outside. An enormous bathroom included a multi-headed shower... perfect for soap and sex events. The second floor had a large media room with comfortable couches and throw pillows, just in case we needed a place for post coital snuggling while watching a romantic movie. Best of all, the owners were out of town for a few days. Spending the night was definitely an option.

I arrived five minutes before seven. The 'hard charging realtor' taking precedence over the 'woman on a date' I told myself. But it had been six months since I broke off my engagement. Six months since I'd been with a man... in the proper sense. Perhaps my slightly early arrival was inspired more by anticipation of physical instead of professional fulfillment.

A white SUV with out of state tags was parked at the end of the quarter mile tree lined driveway. Mark's rental was a blue Ford. The realtor lock box was still secured to the front door, but I heard music coming from inside the house and smelled the hint of smoke.

Great. A burglar. What better way to screw up a romantic evening than inviting the Sherriff and Fire Departments to the party?

A smart girl would have immediately got back in her car and driven away as she called 911. The slightly lustful optimist snuck around to the back yard -- not an easy trick in two-inch heels -- to see if there might be another explanation.

"Shit. I'm overdressed", I thought when I spied Mark in shorts and a T-shirt.

Not wanting to look overly paranoid, I made my way back to the front door, opened it the proper way, and walked into the vaulted entry. The house smelled of freshly baked bread with another enticing scent mixed in. Classical music played softly through built-in speakers as I stopped briefly by the dining room. Two place settings of fine china were separated by a center piece of red roses and white candles. A tossed salad sat on the kitchen counter. The sliding glass doors which led to the patio were wide open. Mark's back was to me as he cooked meat on the grill.

Nice ass.

Oh God. I hope I didn't say that out loud.

He didn't respond. Good. But I'd have to watch myself. Didn't want to seem too eager.

"You've got a different car," I said.

"Great. You're just in time. Help yourself to a drink. And bring me one of those imported beers while you're at it."

Not quite the response I was expecting. No comment on my dress or how absolutely amazing I looked in it. In fact, he didn't even turn to see me. But there were nearly twelve hours until dawn. Hours I was sure we would use to our mutual advantage.

I poured his beer into a frosted mug and opened what had to be a hundred-dollar bottle of wine for me.

"Whatever you're cooking smells divine." I handed him the beer, brushing his arm with my breast in the process, and then held up my wine glass for a toast. "To a profitable and pleasurable relationship."

I sipped my wine. He took a healthy chug of his beer and then let his eyes wander over my body.

"My, my Miss Moorehead. You do clean up good."

If you only knew.

I helped him put dinner on the table and then, just before we sat down, he excused himself, went upstairs and returned wearing a suit.

"Sorry to make you wait. I didn't want to cheapen this evening by being underdressed for dinner."

Oh my god he looked good. Like he just stepped out of a GQ photo shoot on his way to his private jet.

"I opened another bottle," he said as he refilled my wine glass. "This should go better with the aged beef."

Screw the wine. Screw the aged beef. Let's clear off the table, get naked and do it right here in the dining room.

"Why did you change rental cars?" I asked, hoping the subject would take my mind off sex long enough to finish eating.

"Security. I never use the same rental car or agency for more than two days."

"You sure are worried about that stuff. Should I be concerned?"

"Probably not. Some of my competitors have been known to get nasty at times. But they usually don't take it out on my associates and most of their reprisals are financial."

"Interesting wording Mr. Seiman.

'Probably not...'

'...usually don't...'

'Most of their reprisals...'

"All that makes me think there have been cases where those around you have gotten hurt. Are you sure we're just selling real estate?"

"Not to worry. Stay close to me. Do what I say, and you'll come out of this a very wealthy and satisfied woman."

"So, you are more than a real estate broker?"

"We are all more than we seem."

"Hey. If you don't want to tell me, just say so."

"I thought I just did."

"Okay mystery man. If you won't tell me who you are, can you at least tell me how you got into this place today? It was supposed to be locked up tight with an armed security system. Yet when I showed up, you looked like you owned it."

"Could I interest you in some dessert? Perhaps some Crème Brule with a cherry topping?"

Since he refused to answer my questions, we continued dinner in relative silence. Mark was an excellent cook, far better than me. But his house keeping skills left something to be desired. When dinner was done, the used pots and pans remained on the kitchen counter and the dirty dishes never left the dining room table. I got the feeling he was used to other people cleaning up his messes.

Bypassing the cluttered kitchen, he took my hand and led me upstairs. "I wonder if you might join me in one of my favorite evening activities."

Oh yes. Please. Anywhere and any way you want. Missionary on the bed. Doggie style in the kitchen. Underwater in the hot tub. Or all three, followed by a dirty swim in the pool.

"What did you have in mind?"

"First things first. Now that the formal part of the evening is over, let's search the closets and see if we can find something more comfortable to wear."

"Were you thinking of something particular?"

"Not really. You go your way, I'll go mine, and we'll meet in the media room wearing whatever makes us happy."

I started at the logical place. Master bedroom closet, lady's side. I'd never met the woman, but her idea of lingerie was flannel feet pajamas with a flap in the back. She did have two college aged daughters, so I rummaged through their drawers in search of something more appropriate for the occasion. The elder offspring took after her mother in choice of sleeping attire. The younger daughter's nocturnal wardrobe offered numerous choices of sexy sleepwear... for an A cup teenager.

My next idea was a diamond necklace, with nothing else. Then I remembered that lingerie and jewelry were actually designed to please women, not men. All a man wanted was an easily unwrapped package, but they did want something to unwrap. I went back to the master bedroom closet -- this time the gentleman's side -- stripped naked and put on the softest dress shirt I could find. With the top three and lower two buttons undone, I walked into the media room to find Mark relaxing on a couch wearing a pair of men's pajama bottoms. Perfect.

"Any preference on movies," he asked. "They've got Netflix plus a shitload of Blu-Rays."

"Uh... no," I stumbled. "Anything you want is fine by me."

He patted the couch next to him while thumbing through the Netflix menu. "Make yourself comfortable."

Is this really his favorite evening activity? Netflix on the couch? Or is this just another form of foreplay?

"You ever seen Sahara?" he asked.

I shook my head in the no direction as I settled next to him on the couch. I wasn't touching him, because I didn't know what was expected of me. I also didn't move to the extreme end of the couch, because I knew what I wanted, and it was inside those pajama bottoms.

"You'll love it. I promise." Then, sure enough, he pressed PLAY.

Really? More foreplay? Wasn't the afternoon's full body licking event sufficient? Or does he really just want to sit on the couch and watch a movie?

I'm not sure if I moved towards Mark or he to me, but by the time the first scene was over, I was laying with my back against his bare chest in the corner of the couch. He was definitely interested in the movie, saying things like "watch what happens here" when one of his favorite parts came up. I don't think he consciously caressed my nipples through the thin shirt material. Nor did he purposely release the last few buttons to let the lady's out for air. They just sort of sprang free by themselves. I can't tell you when one hand transitioned from my boobs to my belly... and points south. I felt a wetness down there and, sure enough, two of his fingers were giving me a gentle vagina massage.

I was close, so very close to climaxing when the movie did, but just as I was about to enjoy my first orgasm in over half a year, the movie ended.

"See, I told you it was a great flick. The book is better, it usually is, but I'd still love to see them make more of his books into movies."

He didn't exactly dump me out of his lap and onto the floor. But his hands went from my overheated body to the TV remote and then to my arms, as he lifted me from the couch.

"It's been a wonderful evening," he said. "But all good things must come to an end."

You've got to be shitting me. That's it? Dinner and a movie. Get me worked up to the point that I'd screw a rusty doorknob and then say good night?

"However," he added. "There is one more thing I'd like you to do for me."

"Anything."

I didn't even ask. Whatever the man wanted; I was willing to do.

"Would you mind sleeping here tonight?"

You bet your ass I will. Although I don't plan on doing much sleeping.

"It will be my pleasure."

Several times, I hope.

I know I'm not the lightest girl on the block. My waist may be thin, but big boobs and ample ass add quite a few pounds. The extra weight didn't seem to faze him as he plucked me up in his arms, like a parent carrying his young child, and carried me to the bedroom.

The king-sized bed was already turned down. Not sure when he did it, but the bastard obviously choreographed the entire night. Played me like a used iPod. Get me to the edge, pretend like the evening is all over and then, at the last minute, give me what I wanted -- needed -- ever since I met him; ever since my fiancé left me for another woman. A bit cruel, but well played. I might have met my match in the foreplay department, but once I got him naked and in bed, his ass was mine.

He lay my head on the pillow, covered me with the spread, and kissed me lightly on the lips. "Sweet dreams. I'll come check on you tomorrow morning." He turned out the light and shut the bedroom door behind him.

"Very funny," I called out after him, knowing full well he'd be back.

Several minutes passed. The bedroom door remained closed, but I could hear him walking around downstairs.

Two can play this game. Yes, you will probably get laid tonight Mr. Seiman, but you're going to work for it. I'm going to cock tease you until your testicles look like baseballs. Your dick's not coming out of those pajamas until you've brought me to my third orgasm. Then -- when you've had a two-hour erection that is willing to fuck a syphilitic goat for release --I might consider blessing you with entry into my passion place. But I will first make you prostrate yourself in front of me and beg.

That's when I heard the front door close and a car drive away.

Fucking impossible.

I ran down the stairs -- unrestrained boobs bouncing up to my chin -- and flung open the front door to confirm that the asshole had left.

Yep. White SUV gone. My car still there. It was dark as hell in the woods and there I stood, nearly naked, silhouetted against the brightly lit interior.

Not knowing who or what roamed those woods at night, I closed and locked the front door, only to find the patio sliders wide open.

He didn't even have the decency to lock up before he left.

I thought about getting dressed and leaving. Didn't really relish going down that dark driveway at night and Mark did ask me to spend the night. Probably one of his insane requirements before he'd sign an offer on the house. Like when teenagers dared each other to spend the night in the cemetery. Sounds like something he'd do, probably still did. I locked up the house the best I knew how and considered my options.

Sleep wasn't going to happen. I was simultaneously frustrated and pissed, neither conducive to falling asleep. No way I was going to watch another movie, not after what happened earlier in that room. The kitchen and dining room were a mess and there were two partially filled bottles of expensive wine left over. I spent the next few hours cleaning up Mark's mess while polishing off the wine.

It was one in the morning before I tried the bed again. Not sure how long it took me to doze off, but in retrospect, it had been an event packed day and my alcohol consumption was well past my daily average.

Ever have one of those dreams where you thought you were suffocating?

Neither had I. Most of my nightmares involved petty things like bungled business deals or evil women screwing my fiancé. Nothing life threatening and they always went away when I woke up.

Not that night. I dreamt I couldn't breathe and, when I opened my eyes, I was still short of breath... plus I couldn't see. My hands went to my eyes, but I couldn't touch them. Something was in the way. I struggled to remove the obstacle, but it was secured tightly around my neck.

My left hand was snatched away. I felt a metallic object close around my wrist. Heard a click. Couldn't move it. Then the same for my right hand. Stretched above my head. Wrapped with something solid. Click, click. And I was immobilized.

"Who are you? What are you doing?"

No response.

I felt the warmth of the covers leave me. Cool air on bare skin. Hands on my legs. I pinched my thighs together as hard as I could. Panties slipping off my ass... down my legs... gone.

Another restraint. On the ankle. Forced to the side. Then the other ankle. Stretched to the other side. Spread eagled on the bed. Open to whatever he wanted.

Mark. It has to be Mark. Part of his master plan.

"Mark? Say something. Come on. Don't ruin this. Tell me it's you and I'll be glad to play along."

Silence.

"Damn it Mark --"

I shrieked when something hot hit my belly. Liquid. More coming up towards my chest. A squirt on my boobs. Hot, but not burning.

Hands. Spreading the fluid. Oily. Rubbing all over. Not the gentle touch of a lover. Rough. Uncaring hands.

More oil. On my legs. Between my legs. Moving upwards.

"Say something asshole. If you're not Mark, prove it by saying something."

A slap on my thigh made me cry out. More in surprise than from pain. Another slap on a boob. Nipple captured by lips, then teeth. Instinctively jerked away. Another boob slap. More teeth. I remained still.

Teeth replaced by a tongue. Circles around the nipple. Hoped it didn't respond. Knew it would.

A hand roughly squeezed the other boob. Pinched the nipple. Traced a line down to pubic hair. Played in the blonde patch for a while. Found my clit.

More oil. Warm this time. Not hot. Directly on my vagina. Fingers. Spreading. Rubbing. Penetrating. Deep. On the g spot. Stroking. Coaxing.

Responding.

"Shit. You better be Mark. You hear me. Be Mark. Please be Mark."

More fingers. Working on my V. Two inside. One on the clit.

"You're Mark. God damn it. I know you're Mark. Just say it. Say you're Mark."

On the edge. Ready to burst.

Fingers gone. Vagina empty.

Bed sags. Knees between mine. Chest rubbing against thighs, then belly, then boobs.

Fingers back at the entrance. No. bigger. Much bigger

In me. Thick. Bigger than ever before.

"Please. I'm begging you. Be Mark. Do what you want but be Mark."

Long slow thrust. Deep. Then back. Then deeper still.

All the way out. Back in again.

Hands back on my boobs.

Slow rhythmic thrusts down below.

My hips respond. Need more. Deeper. Faster.

"Oh shit. Do it. I don't give a fuck who you are. Just keep doing what you're doing. See how far you can plant that thing. Drill for some deep Janis oil."

And I came. And cried. And came again. He kept at it. And I kept responding. And coming. Six months of pent up emotion extracted in a single session. Not sure if I was being seduced or raped. At that point, I didn't care. All I wanted was to make this human jack hammer respond. And when he did. When my vaginal muscles contracted in one last, powerful expression of ecstasy, I finally felt his erection pause, expand and then flood my womb with millions of tiny DNA carriers.

He waited, breathing heavily, before withdrawing. I felt the weight leave my body and then the bed.

The bed linens covered me again. The bedroom door closed, and then the front door. I listened for a car to drive away. Hoping it would sound like the one that drove off just a few hours previous, but there was no car. Only silence.

I can't tell you when the intruder came. Nor can I say when I got back to sleep. It was sometime between sunset and sunrise. That's all I know. But when the doorbell rang, I knew it was morning because the hood over my head let a small amount of light through.

The doorbell rang again. Then somebody pounded on the door.

"I'm upstairs," I yelled.

Another try at the doorbell and several more knocks.

"Hello, Miss Moorehead?" Mark's voice.

"In the bedroom asshole. Where you left me."

Footsteps coming up the stairs. Door squeaked open.

"Hey lazy head. Out of bed. We've got a big day ahead of us."

"You're hilarious. Now cut me loose. I've got to pee... real bad."

"Then get your ass out of bed and go pee."

"Aren't you forgetting something Mr. Midnight Marauder?" I rattled my restraints against the brass headboard.

"Holy shit. What happened to you?" A decent acting job, but not academy awards material.

"Like you don't know. Now get me out of this bed or I'm going to embarrass myself."

He laughed. "Wow. That must have been some night. Sorry I left. But why would you handcuff yourself to the bed. And what's with the hood over your head?"

Mark removed the material. I squinted until my eyes became accustomed to the light.

"Come on. Play time is over. You know exactly what happened. Now get the keys and let me go."

He thought for a moment. "Oh. Sorry, I must be kind of slow this morning. There's no way you could have done this yourself. After I left, you invited a boyfriend over."

"Hey. Asshole. I don't have a boyfriend."

"Then who tied you up?"