Refi

Many thanks to Frontma for first editing and improving this story.

Immense gratitude to BeautifulStorm, the hardest working editor on this site, who not only applies incredible editing expertise but also tremendous effort in following through to make sure the story turns out much better than I ever thought it could be.

*

"Sit down, Mr. and Mrs. Bledsoe."

Fiona's smile was as bright as the room.

"I hope you weren't waiting in front too long. Sorry about the extra light. Some people can't see well and don't like anyone to know. Everything on these papers will crystal clear so you can be sure there are no mistakes before you sign.

"I know you called this morning, but I was busy running the numbers for two other clients, and then I went straight to the fitness club. As soon as I got off the treadmill, I checked for messages and found yours and called you right back.

"I'm glad you could come over to my house to sign the papers. I didn't even have time to shower and change, so please excuse me for being so smelly and sweaty. We have just enough time before I have to clean up and run out. I have six other refis to finish before 4 p.m. It's a bagel lunch on the run for me today.

"But I'm not complaining, because you have to make hay when the sun shines, isn't that right, Mrs. Bledsoe? With this rate drop, I can save people lots of money and make enough to keep up with my own mortgage payments. So it's a win-win, right, Mr. Bledsoe?

"You know most of my customers, I'd say ninety-five per cent, are so appreciative of my thoughtfulness and thoroughness that they can't thank me enough. I never ask them for anything, because that's not my style, but they call up my boss and just gush.

"Or they write her letters that get me all red in the face when she makes me stand up and reads them to the entire office at our weekly meeting. They send me little gifts, and they send me so many referrals that when the rates drop, I'm working day and night to get everyone locked into a better deal. I think you were a referral, weren't you?

"Of course, there are always a few who are hard to please. Instead of making hay with them when the sun shines, I would like to tell them to stick it where the sun doesn't shine. You know what I mean, Mrs. Bledsoe?

"These are the folks who never return my calls. They don't believe me when I lay out the best deal I can give them. They shop around with sleazy lenders who lie to them. When they find out about the points and hidden closing costs, instead of being embarrassed at being gullible, they accuse me of being no better than the people I warned them about.

"I don't expect to ever hear from these ungrateful people again, but the minute they hear about another rate drop, they're calling every five minutes, because they're desperate to lock it in before the next swing.

"Isn't it funny how these pains in the place where the sun doesn't shine are some of my wealthiest customers. The ten or twenty thousand I save them is like a drop in the bucket for them. It's almost funny how they will disrupt their comfortable lives and do almost anything for lower rates.

"Do you know people like that, Mr. and Mrs. Bledsoe? No, please, no need to apologize. As I told you the first time we met, I will do anything for my clients, no matter how inconsiderate they are.

"It's just part of doing business, and I've found ways to get satisfaction from every situation, no matter how unpleasant. So when you walk out of here, you can be assured that your payments are going to be three hundred dollars a month less and there will be no closing costs at all."

The Bledsoes snuck glances at each other as Fiona kept talking. They had been looking impatient with the loan officer, but at these words, they brightened up. She asked them why they were dressed up on a Sunday morning, and they explained that after they finished signing the papers they were going to their club for brunch.

"When you tell your friends at brunch what a deal you got, they are going to be so jealous. They'll all want to know who did it. But if you don't want to say anything, I don't mind. I have more than enough work."

Fiona dumped a folder full of papers on the hassock in front of the couch where the Bledsoes were sitting. She moved her hands around the folder and then looked on the floor at her feet and all around the hassock.

"Where did my pen go? Oh no. Thanks, Mr. Bledsoe, but I can't use your pen. I need the pen I used before. Everyone's so suspicious nowadays that if the ink doesn't match, it's kicked back, and then you might miss locking in the rate.

"I'll look between the cushions of the couch. Mr. Bledsoe, would you mind crawling under the dining room table and looking there. Mrs. Bledsoe, would you mind looking under those two chairs.

"Don't worry, my carpets are spotless. They're so thick and soft that sometimes I just fall down and stretch out on them when I come home exhausted. And they have that special treatment, so that they never get stained and anything that spills on them is easy to clean up.

The Bledsoes looked at Fiona with expressions of puzzlement but made no move.

"If you don't help me look, it might take me a while to find that pen. If we run out of time, I won't be able to get back to you today. Oh, thanks for helping. That's it, Mrs. Bledsoe, go all around those chairs and look really hard.

"Well, thank you both. I couldn't find it, and I see you couldn't either, but I thought of another place to look."

The Bledsoes had been crawling on their hands and knees inspecting the carpet with their heads down. They turned back toward Fiona, and both gasped.

She was sitting sideways on the couch and leaning back on a cushion. She had taken her cross-training shoes off and socks off and lifted her feet onto the couch. Her heels were touching her thighs. What startled the Bledsoes was that she had also taken off her workout shorts and underwear and spread her knees wide apart.

She was smiling as the shocked couple started at her. When she spoke, her voice was friendly and melodious. It was the same voice as she always used when dealing with customers, the same voice she had been using before. But now there was a hint of authority and efficiency.

"I know it's unusual, but sometimes pens fall into the strangest places. It's hard for me to look into this thick black bush, but Mr. Bledsoe might be able to spot it. I'm not embarrassed at all. We need to find that pen, so I'll do what it takes."

The Bledsoes stood up and stared at her. Mrs. Bledsoe went to her husband and spoke softly and quickly and then went to pick up her purse from the rug next to the couch. She turned her head away from Fiona as she approached her.

"It looks like you have to leave, Mrs. Bledsoe," Fiona said in the same positive chirpy voice as before. "You probably don't want to be late to your brunch.

"It's too bad, because the rates went up a half-point yesterday, and it looks like the start of an upward cycle. I locked you in before the change, so if we sign the papers today, you'll get in under the wire. It's too late to go to anyone else."

"You've got so much money that it doesn't matter anyway if you save a little more. You can afford to wait. Maybe the rates will drop this low again some day. I wish you both the best of luck."

As Fiona spoke, Mrs. Bledsoe picked up her purse, turned around and started walking to the door. Her husband was still staring at Fiona, but as she finished speaking, he ran to Mrs. Bledsoe, grabbed her arms with his hands and stopped her. He began whispering in her ear.

"Speak slower," she said in an irritated tone, "I can't understand a word you're saying."

"You can go in the kitchen if you want to talk things over," Fiona offered brightly.

Her husband almost dragged Mrs. Bledsoe into the kitchen. There were there five minutes before returning. He walked slowly to where Fiona was still sitting in the same position, pulling his wife behind him. Mrs. Bledsoe looked away from Fiona.

"Well, that didn't take long. I think Mr. Bledsoe can be very persuasive. Don't you agree, Mrs. Bledsoe? That's why he's so successful.

"You can let Mrs. Bledsoe sit on the chair, Mr. Bledsoe. Come over here, Mr. Bledsoe. Stand between my legs and look down. Do you see anything? No? Look a little closer.

"Yes, it's hard to bend that far. Maybe you should get down on your knees on my plush carpet. That's it. Now come closer and look really hard."

When his head got close enough, Fiona put her hands around it and pulled it hard into her thick pubic hair. He made a sound like he was being strangled and tried to grab her hands and pry his head loose. He didn't have much success, but after a minute, she released him. He pulled his head quickly away and began gasping for air.

"Is it that strong?" Fiona asked. "I really do need to shower. Take a moment, Mr. Bledsoe. Don't panic. Are you ready to try again? Why don't you take off your shirt and undershirt? We don't want to get any spots on them, do we?

"You might as well take off the rest of your clothes, too. You can put them on the other easy chair so they don't get wrinkled."

When Mr. Bledsoe caught his breath, he looked daggers at Fiona. She looked at him expectantly and said nothing. After a couple of minutes, he methodically began taking off his clothes. Now it was his wife's turn to gasp. He got back on his knees without in Fiona without looking toward his wife.

"Thank you, Mr. Bledsoe," Fiona said. "This time, use your hands to part the shrubbery That's it, nice and gentle. Look! You've opened a clearing, and there's a fold in the middle. The pen might be in there. It's so narrow, so you'll need to pry it open with your tongue."

Bledsoe's body shook and he raised his head and looked at the smiling Fiona. The blood had drained from his face.

"I'm waiting," she said.

He put his head back down.

"That's it, Mr. Bledsoe. You can start by running your tongue up and down the fold. Probe it a little to see if you can get in."

As he licked, Fiona's puffy lips opened and her moist red vagina was exposed. Mr. Bledsoe's tongue entered and continued licking. She squirmed a little and gave a sigh and then addressed his wife.

"Mrs. Bledsoe, sometimes an extra pair of eyes can find something when the first pair can't. Why don't you get down there next to your husband so you can see better."

"No!" Mrs. Bledsoe screamed as she jumped up from her chair. She had been watching her husband in disbelief.

Fiona relaxed her thighs, which had been wrapped around Mr. Bledsoe's head, pulling his mouth tightly into her vagina. She put her hands on his head, gently lifted it and spoke to him.

"Mr. Bledsoe, I think your wife wants to go into the kitchen again."

He got up and looked at his fuming wife. He took her hand and pulled her out of the room. Their voices in the kitchen were loud at first, then quiet.

When they came back, her lips were pressed tightly together and her face was twisted in anger. As her husband knelt between Fiona's legs and went back to work, she knelt next to him.

"Are you watching closely?" Fiona said and laughed. Then her voice stopped, replaced by sighs and moans. Bledsoe no longer seemed reluctant. He was performing enthusiastically, and it wasn't long before Fiona screamed and her body shook. She went silent, but he kept going until she lifted his head up again with her hands.

"It's no use Mr. Bledsoe," she said. "You've done your best, but if my pen is in there, your tongue couldn't reach it. I think maybe Mrs. Bledsoe might do better. We should at least give her a chance."

Hearing this Mrs. Bledsoe tried to get up, but her husband put his hands around her and whispered into her ear. She began crying as he continued to whisper.

When he stopped whispering, she was on her knees with her body straight up and rigid, like a statue. He put his hands around her back and pulled her slowly down until she was on her hands and knees on the carpet. Then he guided her between Fiona's legs.

He took her head between his hands and slowly pulled it down between between Fiona's thighs. The thick hair surrounding her moist red opening was now shining because it was soaked with her secretions and his saliva. When his wife's tightly closed mouth was touching Fiona's vagina, he stopped and held her head still.

"I think you need to get her started, Mr. Bledsoe," Fiona said after a moment.

Bledsoe looked at her and looked around trying to think of what to do. He looked at his wife's butt draped in her elegant dress, took his right hand away from her head, raised it and smacked her hard. Her body jumped and she reacted with in a high voice that sounded like she was blowing bubbles inside Fiona. As Bledsoe raised his arm again, Mrs. Bledsoe began licking, although she had to stop frequently to control her gagging.

She raised her head after a while. It looked like it had been dipped in a vat of oil. She looked around and got up slowly and took off her clothes. She folded them carefully and put them on the chair where her husband's clothes were. Then she went back to licking. She was no longer gagging.

"Good idea, Mrs. Bledsoe," Fiona said. "That's an expensive dress and you don't want to ruin it. What a sexy red bra! You certainly have a lot to hold up. But look at you! You're still round and firm with no scars -- all natural?

"I bet you like to flirt with men at the club and tease them. But you've never cheated on Mr. Bledsoe, have you? I hope not. Would he call something like this cheating. Probably not. It's with a woman, not a man. It probably gets him hot. Maybe you can sneak a peek between his legs to see.

As she spoke, Fiona directed Mrs. Bledsoe to her clitoris, and this time Mrs. Bledsoe didn't show any reluctance. She increased her efforts until Fiona pulled Mrs. Bledsoe's head more tightly into her and began thrashing around on the couch and uttering sharp short squeals.

When Fiona's hands released her, Mrs. Bledsoe raised her head and gazed wonderingly at Fiona, as if she couldn't believe what she had done. Her expression quickly changed to one of disgust as she looked at her red-faced husband next to her and noticed how hard he had become from watching her and Fiona.

It took Fiona a couple of minutes to recover before she spoke.

"Mrs. Bledsoe, you are an amazing explorer. Too bad you couldn't find the pen. I think we need to look in another place. It's a dark place, where the sun doesn't shine, but if we all work together, I'm sure we can find that pen."

The Bledsoes both groaned, but they didn't move as Fiona got up from the couch and then turned around and got back on it, this time lengthwise on her hands and knees.

"I love this couch, because it's almost as wide as a small bed," she said as she pushed some cushions under her and spread her legs wide. The Bledsoes stared at her.

"Mrs. Bledsoe, I want you to get behind me and -- oh! Do you want to go into the kitchen again. You're shaking your head, but Mr. Bledsoe is nodding his. Go ahead and talk it over. We still have time."

Mrs. Bledsoe was fuming again when they returned.

"Now that you're ready, Mrs. Bledsoe, please get behind me and pull my butt cheeks as wide apart as you can. See if you can see the pen inside. It's hairy back there, too, but not as much as in the front.

"Don't see it? Better start searching with your tongue. No, Mr. Bledsoe, take your hands off her head. She knows what to do. Give her a moment to breathe and she'll be fine. There she goes."

As Mrs. Bledsoe's tongue entered her ass, Fiona began wiggling and her voice was breathy as she spoke.

"You're amazing, Mrs. Bledsoe. I've never had anyone search that cave before, but I'm sure nobody could do it as good as you. Oooooooooh!"

Fiona got Mrs. Bledsoe to thrust her tongue in and out, but when she told her to push her head between Fiona's butt cheeks so she could go deeper, Mrs. Bledsoe ignored her. After Fiona repeated the request, she heard a loud cry behind her and turned her head to see what was going on. Then she turned back, smiled and spoke again.

"Don't be upset, Mrs. Bledsoe. You husband is just helping you reach places you couldn't before. I really feel good about this.

"There, you've got it. Ooooh, Mrs. Bledsoe. You are the captain of the search team. You're soooo deep. Mr. Bledsoe, please let go of her head. She's doing great. Ooooooh. Okay, Mrs. Bledsoe, I think you've gone as far as you can go. You can take your tongue out. Whoa! You got that out fast. It felt great coming out.

"That's it. Long breaths. You're fine. Now come over here by my face and let me look at you. I love the way your face looks, all sweaty and grimy and smeary from my insides and your makeup. No, don't wash up yet. I want you to stay and watch Mr. Bledsoe go where you just were. Maybe he'll be more successful than you.

"What's that, Mr. Bledsoe. You're having second thoughts about the refi. You say, forget it. That's too bad after what Mrs. Bledsoe just did for you.

"Thank you, Mrs. Bledsoe. You certainly expressed yourself forcefully. Did Mr. Bledsoe know you knew about him and his secretary? Have all of his best friends really offered to have revenge sex with you? Would your father really fire him? No! You don't say! Your lawyers could really find a way to take every cent he has?

"That's right, Mrs. Bledsoe. Tell him there's no use crying. It won't make him sick. It's all in his mind. You certainly know how to persuade your husband, Mrs. Bledsoe. Do you want to go back to the kitchen? No? You want me to wait? Okay.

A minute later, Fiona felt something touch her butt. She turned her head and saw the Mrs. Bledsoe was holding her husband's quivering head and guiding it to her ass. Then she felt his tongue licking between her cheeks.

It took some false starts, including one trip to the toilet bowl and a lot of gagging, before Mr. Bledsoe's tongue began making love to Fiona's ass. By the time he got into full gear, his own butt was bright red with large purple welts because his wife had to administer more than a dozen hard swats to keep him motivated. After the first one, Fiona suggested that since Mrs. Bledsoe had such small hands, she might want to use Mr. Bledsoe's leather belt. Mrs. Bledsoe thanked her for the idea.

While Bledsoe was tonguing her ass, Fiona used her fingers in front to get off again. After she recovered, she told him to push his tongue in even deeper. A couple of swats got him to go along.

"Try to pull your tongue out now, Mr. Bledsoe. You can't, can you? It's because I'm holding it so tight. It's a little trick I learned. Your tongue is trapped. Can you see what I'm doing, Mrs. Bledsoe? You say it's giving you some ideas about how Mr. Bledsoe can make up for his affair.

"Okay, Mr. Bledsoe, I'm going to get off the couch and onto the carpet. You just need to follow me with your head so that my muscles don't rip your tongue out of your mouth. Slowly, slowly. That's it.

"We're like a choo-choo train, and your car is connected to my engine with your tongue. Mrs. Bledsoe will be the passenger. Get on board, Mrs. Bledsoe."

Mrs. Bledsoe straddled her husband and sat down on him. Fiona slowly crawled forward. She circled the room three times with Bledsoe's head up her ass and his wife riding on his back.

When she stopped, she looked behind her at Mrs. Bledsoe sitting on her husband and began laughing wildly. After a while, she got herself under control, although she couldn't stop giggling as she spoke.

"That's was so much fun. I'm going to push out, and you can pull your tongue out now Mr. Bledsoe. You were a great caboose."

Bledsoe started for the bathroom.

"No, stay here for a moment. I want to look at you and Mrs. Bledsoe. You are both as sweaty as I am now, and your faces are a fright. Before the two of you take a shower, I want you to embrace and share a big, deep, dirty, smelly kiss. Come on! It's getting late and the papers aren't signed yet. That's it."