Take Me, Tom Pt. 36-40

Okay, I swear they're almost on their way back! It's taken a while to get this far, I know. Hopefully, you have enjoyed the ride so far. If you would 'indulge' me for a few chapters more, hopefully where the story goes will be worth it.

As per usual, thanks go to my editor extraordinaire, Kenjisato. His help with spacing s et al has been invaluable. Thanks to Paolo, as always, for his proofreading! Still, any mistakes, as always, are mine.

As I'm having slight 'problems' uploading, I'll be adding 'extra' chapters, just to keep this thing going.

Thanks to everyone who has left constructive criticism. To the others, well...

Chapter 36

Thursday

I must have slept in. Either that or my dreams were getting vivid. I smelled food. I turned and looked at the clock. Seven-twenty five. [Jeez, I thought!] The door opened a few minutes later, and Chrissie walked in, ravishing in the morning sun, her hair tied back, her camisole slowly wafting around her body.

"Morning, sleepy-head!" she smiled. "You were out! I even tried staring at you, but you didn't move a muscle. I was going to wake you, but decided that would wait. Will it wait, Tom?" she smiled seductively at me.

"At least until breakfast is finished!" I replied, laughing.

"Thanks, darling. This...this is nice. Pull yourself up, okay?" she asked, then placed the tray on my lap, hurried to her side of the bed, and slid back in.

"Morning, darling man," she cooed, and kissed my cheek.

I handed her a plate, and she greedily took it. I laughed.

"Hungry, are you?" I asked.

"Famished, Tom!" she mumbled, as she gulped another mouthful of Spanish omelette into her empty mouth. Chrissie had put the music on, knowing I loved a bit of ambient noise in the background.

"This really is lovely, darling. Sorry I slept in, but I must have needed it! How did you sleep after, uh, our evening?" I asked her.

"I was out in a few minutes. Your, uh, attention certainly helped, darling," she giggled.

"Well, if you can't sleep, well...," I snickered.

"Mmmm, I know!"

"So. Today? I'll need to organize my things a bit this morning before they show up, but after that, I'm yours!" I smiled.

"That's just how I like you, Tom. Mine!" she chuckled.

We ate, talked about the kids, and sorted out our day. Plates empty, we headed for the bathroom as time was slipping away. We spent too long in the shower, but this was nothing new for us. We slowly washed each down, the generous suds from the gel, allowing our hands to drift sensuous over each other. Chrissie gasped and cleaned my cock, her wrist firmly twisting her fingers along my shaft, one hand on the wall by now. I felt my stomach relax, and a strong stream of morning pee gushed out. It caught Chrissie by surprise, as she was expecting a thicker, different-coloured stream shooting from my prick. I heard a sharp intake of breath, and then she coolly directed the flow over her body. [Fuck, I thought!] I had one hand on her shoulder, my thumb digging into her collarbone, my legs spread, enjoying the release. I watched as Chrissie rubbed the acrid liquid onto her body, her eyes alive and glazed. When the steady stream began to trickle, she fell to her knees and took me in her mouth.

Chrissie swallowed the last few drops, but continued to suck me, her little wrist-twisting my cock in tight semi-circles. She took all of my lengths, feeling the back of her throat as I gently fucked her face. I felt her slippery hand holding my now-full balls, gently soaping them up, the weight sliding through her fingers. Her mouth moved up my length, her lips sucking, and touching my glans. I could feel her swallowing my pre-cum, as it flowed from my dick. I looked down at her, her red hair soaked around her shoulders, her eyes looking up at mine. I could feel my girth expand, Chrissie moaning, knowing what was next. She held onto my cock, her fingers squeezed my balls, and a torrent of my morning cum, shot into her mouth.

Chrissie gagged at the first surge, but adjusted and swallowed every gush of my cum. My sister looked so seductive on her knees, taking me, my seed seeping out of the corner of her mouth.

I moaned my sister's name and thrust my cock into her mouth. My hand grasped her hair, holding onto it tightly. With my last, forceful plunge, Chrissie, still holding the spent shaft, I pulled away from her mouth. I watched as she rubbed the still-hard meat around her face., her voice shuddering with every sweep.

I caught my breath, and looked down at her. I smiled like a madman, my voice shaking with the desire ebbing from me. Chrissie smiled at me, enjoying her spontaneous desires as much as I did.

I lifted her carefully, and pulled her to my chest, whispering, "Thank...thank you, darling."

She giggled into my chest, "Mmm, my pleasure, Tom. You're so...beautiful. In so many ways,

darling," and we kissed.

My fingers slid between her two peaches, revelling in the softness and the warmth. We continued to kiss, and Chrissie pulled away from our tight embrace.

"You can, uh, take care of me later?" she asked. "Times moving on, Tom."

I slapped her butt, Chrissie shrieking aloud, "Owww!"

"I certainly shall, Chrissie," I whispered.

"Mmmm," she cooed, as we walked out of the shower and dried each other off. I ran my nose through her sparse pussy hair, and leaned in and kissed her. Chrissie's fingers combed through my hair, her breath deep, and her eyes watching me. She threw her tow

el on my head and stepped away, heading for the bedroom, laughing.

We walked to the bedroom, me, as always, captivated by my sister's little wiggles as she practically danced across the wood floors.

"Dress today, or slacks?" she asked.

"You look enticing in either, but a dress?" I replied.

"Just what I was thinking. And you? More checks?" she giggled.

"Behave, woman. Nuthin' wrong with a tasteful check!"

We dressed, and as was getting to be habitual, she asked me to choose her lingerie for the day. God, I loved this gesture. She knew perfectly well what it did to me, but I didn't mind.

I asked what dress she was wearing, as I knew she was so particular about matching her ensemble. She chose a light cream dress, with little blue and red birds floating about, and she'd look delicious in it.

I wandered through her lingerie drawer, looking for the right shade of bra and panty. I saw a pale yellow pair, lace-trimmed, the sheer cup stunning. Again, her matching panties were beside the bra, delicate lace trim and almost thin.

"These?" I held up, hopefully.

"Impeccable, Tom. Whatever would I do without your keen eye, eh?" she giggled.

I handed them to Chrissie, but she relented.

"Would you? Please?" beckoning me to dress her, her voice so coy.

I knelt, the soft fabric between my fingers, as I motioned her to lift one leg, then the other. I would never tire of slowly pulling her underwear up her lithe legs, nor slipping them down at the end of the day. I patted her bum when they were all in place, my lips casually kissing the front, her now-covered pussy hidden from me.

She handed me her bra, and I asked her to turn around. I slipped her arms through and adjusted the flimsy holder around her small breasts, my lips kissing her neck as I did so. I moved the straps and brought the two sides together, gently clasping it.

"Thank you, Tom," she smirked, knowing the little charade we played out.

I pulled out yet another pair of dark chinos but surprised Chrissie by grabbing a nice, to me at least, earth-toned shirt. She didn't chuckle or turn her nose up, so I gathered this would pass.

I grabbed our breakfast tray and headed to the kitchen, Chrissie not yet ready. I washed up quickly and looked around. I checked every cabinet and drawer, looking for anything I wanted to pack, and there was more than I thought. I headed out to the front room, where Chrissie joined me, giving her two cents on what I should keep. Again, there was more

than at first glance when I really looked. It would be nice to settle, though. The removal people arrived promptly at nine. I took them through my worldly possessions, and pointed out various pieces. I pointed out my suits, and they said they had special boxes for those so that they wouldn't be creased on arrival. They suggested I use the red dots they handed to me. Anything I wanted to be moved, put a red dot. Anything not so marked would stay. Pretty straightforward. They would be coming back a week Saturday after we had left, so I had to make sure I got this right.

They had Chrissie's address, phone numbers, and emails, so they were all set. Delivery to Chrissie's would take about two weeks, so I needed to keep this in mind when packing to leave.I closed the door, and looked at Chrissie.

"This is getting real, Tom," she sighed, looking at me.

"That it is, darling. Whew, eh? Now... don't you dare ask if this is what I want, okay? It is!" I said vehemently, reading her mind.

"I wasn't going to," she lamented, but then smiled.

"Okay, your tour bus is about to leave. All set?" I asked.

"Quick pee and I'm ready," she giggled. "And NO, you cannot watch! Perv!" she laughed.

We were out and ready. We chatted with Markus for a few minutes, and Chrissie wanted to know any gossip that was going on in the building. Markus just rolled his eyes at me, and we laughed.

I started up the car as Chrissie asked me, "Where first, Tom?"

"I thought the National Gallery? They have a couple of Vermeers I haven't seen for a while. Sound good?" I asked, as I swerved the car out onto the main road.

"Wonderful, darling. As always, I'm in your hands! So... I love this car. Do they do a larger four-seater for home?" she giggled again.

I laughed at my sister. What was she like, eh?

"We can have a look, but I think we have to think about a few other things before splashing out on a car like this. If we're going to be moving back here in six months or a year, I'd rather save the money. Don't worry. I'm not going to do a cost/ benefit analysis. We'll just see what works," I laughed. She did give me a little smiling pout, which I ignored.

I loved watching Chrissie as we drove through London. She looked like such a child compared to her work demeanour, which was anything but. This lovable dichotomy was about her, and I felt I was the same. Chrissie, to me, had two distinct personalities at times. She seemed to have a work persona and another outside of work. I thought they worked well together, the lion and the kitten, although the lion part of her was never far away from the surface.

Her hand was soothingly on my thigh, touching me as if she needed that as much as I did. My hand was somewhere up her dress, not invading, just there. Even with traffic, we made good time, as I parked near Covent Garden, not a place I visited at all, [ bloody

tourists!] but handy for where we were walking today.

We parked up, and I gave Chrissie a few minutes to compose herself. She really did like this car! I helped her out, her shapely, stockinged legs catching my eye. She coquettishly smiled. This woman was beautiful, in so many ways. I took her through the Theatre District, the easiest way to the galleries.

"I'd love to go to the theater sometime, Tom. Hopefully, if we move back here, shall we?" she asked.

"I'd love to, at some point, yes. There's always something good on in the WestEnd, and that would make a lovely night out. Or we could take the kids to a matinee? There are options," I said. We took each other's hands, and walked through the crowds of tourists. We ended up on the Strand and turned right. Chrissie had her phone out, embarrassingly, taking photos. I was mildly horrified, but put up with it with a wry smile. We ended up in Trafalgar Square, which anyone would recognize immediately. Chrissie was in her element and gently coerced me into taking a few photos of her, and us. I relented, only if I could take a few of her with my camera. I was getting quite a few, but God knows when I'd have a chance to look at them. I pointed out the National Gallery, right off the Square, so we headed over after another twenty minutes of gawking.

Chrissie was awestruck, as are most people who walk in. We grabbed a guide, and looked to see what we were interested in today. Chrissie chose the Seurats and the Turners, I chose the Vermeers and the Degas. I had my arm on Chrissie's shoulder as we walked through gallery after gallery, Chrissie stopping before any painting that took her eye. I would ask what she was looking at, giving her the opening to break down the piece so even a layperson would understand what the artist was trying to express. She was good. She knew that I had a little background in art history, but hers was extensive. The woman has a good eye and a wonderfully easy way of dissecting a work. Matthew was going to be very impressed tomorrow. It was one of our better days. We jostled back and forth with our interpretations of a piece, sometimes agreeing; other times, Chrissie looked at me scornfully for my lack of intuition. It was wonderful.

We only spent a few hours there, and it became an overload of culture, so we headed back out into the square and sat by one of the fountains. Chrissie pulled her dress up to tan her legs, her face smiling and filled with joy. She wasn't hungry, so we headed to the National Portrait Gallery, a short walk away.

I loved coming here, as they had a wonderful collection of photos, and it gave me ideas for portraiture.

Chrissie was impressed with the exhibits and the set-up of the gallery. I saw her eyes twinkle and her mind spinning.

"Tom... I'd like to see their conservation department. Do you think they'd let us?" she asked, excited but hesitant.

"Let's go find out!" I answered.

We headed along the different rooms, admiring, talking about and peering at the pieces that caught our eye. Chrissie tried to remember the person's name they had lent works to

a year earlier. It finally came to her, so we headed to the information booth. She asked if

Alison Weekly was in, the person whom she liaised with. She was, and we were asked to wait for her. Chrissie was so excited! A woman, probably mid-forties, approached us with dark chestnut hair, impeccably dressed and a certain air about her.

"Hello, I'm Ms Weekly. How may I help you?" she asked, helpfully.

"Hello, Ms Weekly. Alison. I'm Christine Madden from the Art Institute in Chicago. I helped you a year or so ago with a few of our works for your exhibit," Chrissie said, handing the lady her work ID.

"Christine! Yes! How are you! Yes, I do remember. What can I help you with?" she asked.

"This is my...fiancé, Thomas Lawrence. It's a long story, but he's been working here for the last two years, but now he's coming back to Chicago. I'm here tagging along and helping him sort things out. I'd... I'd love to see your workspace if that doesn't impose too much?" she asked.

She looked at us, and immediately said, "Yes, of course. Here. Follow me," she said, and led us down a few hallways, Chrissie and she recollecting the pieces they had sent over. They seemed to have bonded rather quickly. I heard Chrissie say that she had a meeting with Matthew at the V&A tomorrow with the hopes of seeing what, if anything, was available. She explained that we were headed back to Chicago for six months, but may move here permanently and that she was looking for opportunities in curating.

We entered a large room, not dissimilar to ones I had seen at the Institute. I could sense Chrissie growing. Her confidence and her attitude changed. It was as if this was where she was in control and comfortable. I've never been so proud.

Alison asked what I did, and I told her I worked for Holloway and Geary, a private equity firm in Chicago, and had been sent here to learn about the European market. I mentioned that the firm supported the V&A, hence my connection with them. I could see her mind working.

I followed them around, Chrissie asking questions, and Alison readily answered all. I had a vague idea what they were talking about, knowing only that this was Chrissie's area. Alison gently asked Chrissie questions about her background and what she was looking for here in London, albeit a few months away.

Chrissie handled her questions with insight and professionalism I have seldom seen. She did know her stuff! This was turning into more than a cursory, courtesy visit. I took myself away from them, giving them the time, I felt, they needed to check each other out. I looked around, but kept my hands to myself. I had learned that much! I chatted with a few people, busy working, so didn't take up too much of their time. After forty-five minutes, Chrissie and Alison were through with the tour. We all shook hands, and she led us out into the main area.

"Well, that was unexpected!" I smiled.

"She...she wants to see me next week. Monday? I...I cannot believe this, Tom. I love what they're doing there. I could learn so much, but I can also bring a lot to them. Tom, I may have a bloody job!" she almost shrieked. "I...I cannot believe what has just happened."

"Did she offer a job? It can't be that easy," I asked.

"Not as such, but we really connected. Her vision of museums and their place are exactly like mine. She answered all my questions beautifully. This is somewhere I could work, Tom! This...is so exciting!" she gushed. "I need to email my CV and other paperwork over to her. Can we go get a drink?" she smiled.

We hadn't seen as much as planned, but Chrissie was too excited, so I took her out, and we headed for the Mexican restaurant I knew. Chrissie was ecstatic, her face beaming, and so happy.

"Chrissie, if you don't mind me saying, from what I heard, you're pretty-gosh -darn impressive," I gushed.

"That was nothing, Tom. You should see me in full flow!" she laughed. "But, thank you. I appreciate your support. So, we're coming back Monday? Ten a.m., okay?"

"We'll be here. I'll drive you so we can get here early. Now...lunch or a hotel room? Hmm?"

"Are...are you serious, Tom? A...a hotel? Now?" she asked me, uncertain if I was joking or not.

"If you're up for it, of course!" I said, holding nothing back.

"Uh...hotel?" she asked, giggling.

I took her hand and briskly walked to The Grand at Trafalgar Square. Chrissie's cheeks were blushing, which made me smile. We walked up to the check-in desk, and asked for a double room...immediately. They checked, took my card, and asked about luggage. This was becoming to be a habit! We were given the card for our room, the simplest standard they had available, and we practically ran to the lift, both of us giggling like teenagers.

"I hope I'm worth £230, Tom?" Chrissie laughed.

I swatted her ass and said, "Every penny, darling," and dragged her down the hallway. We found our room, my hand shaking, trying to slot the card in the door. It opened, and Chrissie jumped on me, her laugh infectious.

"With clothes...or not?" I asked.

"I want you naked, brother," she hissed.

I quickly undid my shirt, slipped it over my shoulders, and undid my chinos, dropping them to the floor. Chrissie had her shoes kicked off and struggled with the zip on her dress, and I helped with the buttons. Quickly, but delicately, I opened every one 'til her dress slipped over her shoulders. She shimmied her panties down her legs, but kept her bra on. She jumped up on the bed, her lithe legs sliding between the sheets. I walked to the end of the bed, my cock hard and ready, and I grasped the edge of the large duvet and pulled it down, Chrissie naked to me, except for her bra-encased breasts. She laughed at my enthusiasm.

I crawled up the bed, kissing her feet, her legs, her thighs, which suddenly opened, and planted a tiny kiss on her pussy.