The Girl Who Holds the Keys

The kitchen and dining room were probably 1,500 square feet by themselves. The kitchen had three islands, four sinks, two stove tops, and a separate full-size refrigerator and freezer. The hood above the stove on the center island of the kitchen was emblazoned with the now familiar stallion logo.

"So," Simone asked, "Do you get many clients with houses this size?"

"Well, no. The people that can afford this kind of thing are few and far between. And right now, in this market, there's not a lot of demand. When there is, it's usually taken by one of the principals at the firm. Or at least a senior agent; I haven't been around long enough to get this kind of lead very often. Or at all, actually."

She nodded. "I figured; Charlotte seemed like the type."

"What do you mean? What type?"

"She knows she knows what she's doing, and expects to get what she wants. I also don't think she liked us much; she didn't really rub us the right way, if you know what I mean."

"No, not really. What do you mean?" Charlotte had always been a little snooty towards me, but I figured that was just a function of her status at the agency. I assumed she'd been very different towards clients.

"I don't think she likes black people."

I was taken aback. "I can't imagine that's it. She doesn't seem like the type at all."

"Yeah, nobody seems like the type until they are. I definitely got the feeling we were wasting her time. We weren't, though. D has the money; she should know that, it's in all the damn papers."

"I'm really sorry you got that impression. I hope that wasn't the case, maybe she was just having a bad day or something."

"Yeah, well, we're done with her. She actually mentioned several times she was going to Bora-Bora this month, like we were supposed to be impressed. When we decided we liked the house and wanted to look at it again, we waited to call until we thought she was on vacation. And we were right. And now we got someone we can work with."

I blushed a bit. "Well, I appreciate that, but you can't possibly know— "

"I got a good feeling about you. You're still trying to defer to Charlotte, since that's what your company does. That means you follow rules, and aren't out to screw other people. You're still defending her, even though she's a stuck-up twat and we both know it."

"That's not what I was trying to -- "

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Point is, you're loyal to your company and your bosses. I like that, since if we buy this house, we'll kind of be your boss."

"I suppose that's the case."

"Also, D thinks you're pretty hot for a white girl."

I was taken aback. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"For me? Nothing. For him? Quite a bit. Your company gets about three percent of the sale price, and the seller gets about half of that, right?"

I was taken back; my own internal prejudices had assumed she knew nothing about real estate. Obviously, I was wrong, and I felt a little ashamed. "Something like that, sure."

"So, if we buy this place for a million two, you end up with almost twenty grand in your pocket. Not bad."

"I don't know if I'd get that much, Charlotte would get some since it's her— "

"No, that ain't going to happen. She gets none of this if we buy the house."

"Well, that's not my decision."

"Course not. But we can specify it with your bosses."

"I suppose, but that's not really standard --"

"Don't care. Your bosses aren't going to turn away a sale this big just because of who the sales share of the commission goes to."

I was silent for a minute, knowing she was right. I was both excited and nervous about that development. Charlotte would be furious. But I think I could get over it for 1.5% of $1.2 million dollars. Which reminded me...

It was my turn to interrupt. "Wait, you said $1.2 million. Listing price is $1.5 million."

"Yup. It's been on the market five years. D knows people who know the old owner. We'll be marking it down if we make an offer, and it will get accepted."

I shrugged, not knowing what to say. While we talked, Simone had been opening drawers, refrigerators, and stoves, making sure everything was intact. At this point, she left the kitchen and moved into the living room, continuing her inspection. I followed her.

"Hang on," I said. "You never answered why me being attractive had anything to do with the sale."

"Meh, he wants his money to go to someone like that. That shit doesn't matter to me, but it does to him. He's met more than his share of gold diggers in his life, which is nuts because he ain't even old enough to drink. I think he figures a good-looking woman who actually works for her money is a rare breed; now I don't feel that way, but sometimes, it's better to just let him have his ideas rather than talk sense into him. Either way, you're better off, so probably best than to look a gift horse in the mouth."

I nodded. This showing just kept getting stranger.

We wandered down a hall towards what I thought was the garage, but opened the door into a giant room. I first mistook it as a ballroom, and it was, although not in the traditional sense -- it was the indoor basketball court. The floor was covered with a thin layer of plastic, and the room was filled with a variety of items covered with sheets to protect them from dust. Pulling aside a sheet, Simone discovered lawn furniture. She lifted a couple more sheets, and it became clear that cabanas, patio chairs, and deck chairs filled the room.

"Oh good. I was hoping to not have to rebuy everything."

I nodded and looked around. "The indoor basketball court's not exactly a normal feature of a house. Seems perfect for you guys, though."

"Well, perfect for him," she replied. "I could care less, but if it keeps him happy, works for me. When he gets stressed out, he shoots baskets to calm himself. Having the indoor court will help when it's raining out, which happens a lot here."

She left the room and returned, through the kitchen, and went out of the back door. She leaned up against a railing, looking at De'Angelo shooting baskets. I stood next to her and watched for a bit.

Simone broke the silence. "So, what's your story?

I was confused. "What do you mean?"

"You're pretty young for a real estate agent. What are you -- twenty-five?"

"Twenty-eight."

"No wedding ring. You have a boyfriend?"

"Not really, no."

"Why not?"

I was taken aback. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you're certainly cute enough. You might be on the bottom bunk at your job, but you have a job. You don't seem stupid. Why don't you have someone?"

"I...I don't know. I guess I just don't need one right now. Haven't found the right guy. Don't want to force something that's not right just to make it happen."

"Smart girl. But you said 'not really,' not 'No."

"Yeah, so?" I wasn't sure where she was going with this.

"I think you've probably got a regular guy you get with to work out the stress. Maybe a couple. Maybe more."

I nodded. "You're a smart woman, Simone."

She nodded. "Yeah, but Charlotte didn't seem to think so, though. Whether it's because of my age, or my skin color, or my choice in men, I don't know. Regardless, she definitely wasn't the right agent for us."

I didn't know what to say, so I stayed silent while we watched De'Angelo play basketball. I'm not much of a basketball fan, but he moved with the grace of a skilled professional, not like the guys I'd seen swatting at each other in intramural hoops in college. One shot bounced off the rim and off to the side, forcing him to hustle up to keep it from rolling too far off the court. Gracefully, he loped over to retrieve it -- reminiscent of a gazelle. A really, really tall gazelle.

Simone broke the silence. "You ever date an athlete?"

"My boyfriend in high school was on the football team."

"Was he a star? Like the QB or something?"

"Not really. Wide receiver, not the best one on the team."

"Probably not the same. It's a different world, yours and mine. The shitty parts of Atlanta are not the same as a suburb in Oregon. And dating a second-string wide receiver is not the same as a professional baller."

Again, I wasn't sure where she was going with this. "OK."

"Pro ballplayers are very competitive. The team needs to win every game it can, and you're constantly fighting for your job, as there is a new class of rookies coming in every year trying to take your job. You can never relax. And there's about five years window where, if you get fired, you have a shot at signing with another team. Otherwise, you're done, at least in the NBA. No other job like it."

"Right."

"D is no exception -- he is also very competitive. And that rubs off on me, as I need to be fighting for my man. There are always girls coming after him, particularly on road trips. And some of them aren't after him for sex, they want the baby money and to be able to say 'Baby Daddy is a baller.' They're trying to get him to knock them up. He sure as hell can't tell the ones who just want to sleep with NBAers apart from the ones who want to tax his paycheck for the next eighteen years.

"But I can. I know that any man who has girls throwing themselves at him almost constantly in thirty different cities is going to be tempted. He's going to give in occasionally, whether I like it or not. So rather than try to fight it, I try to control it."

There was a short pause before she continued. "Do you see where I'm going with this?"

I briefly contemplated my options before responding truthfully. "No idea whatsoever."

I thought she would explain further, but instead she called out to De'Angelo. "Hey, baby, come back into the house." He took one final shot, retrieved his basketball, and headed back towards us. Well before he reached the back door, Simone headed back into the house. She led me to the front entry foyer, with the empty fountain and the carpeted stairs; she sat down on a stair about halfway up. She patted the carpet next to her, indicating that I should sit down, so I did.

"As I said," Simone began, "we're pretty interested in this house and are considering making an offer. There's another one over in Oregon City that's a little smaller and probably a lot cheaper, but this isn't bad either."

"Well, what can I do to encourage you to make an offer?"

"Thought you'd never ask." She smiled, a big smile that made me a little nervous.

De'Angelo came back into the room at this point and looked me in the eye for the first time. "Hey," he said to me, as if he just now noticed my existence.

"As I said before, I'm a competitive woman. Are you?"

"Not overly so...but I think everyone is a little bit."

"Good enough." She turned to De'Angelo. "Ready to test her, D?"

He nodded. "Sure."

"Let's make a bet," she said, as she put her arm around my shoulders. "We're going to take turns sucking D off, one minute at a time. And whoever gets him off, wins. Deal?"

There was a prolonged silence. Both of them were staring at me, waiting for me to say something.

"What the fuck?" was all I could muster. My sense of dignity was screaming at me to get up and run out of this house and never look back.

Simone laughed out loud, a genuine laugh. "Like I said, we're interested in this house, but it's not the dream home. I know you need the sale. Shitty market, you're probably struggling to keep up the payments on your Civic, right? School loans still kicking your ass, maybe?" She shook my shoulder briefly. "Right?"

The way she had emphasized the word Civic had not been an accident. "Yeah, but... that's not something I do for work."

Simone pointed at De'Angelo. "D is a good looking, six-foot-ten professional athlete who makes almost five million dollars a year. If you knew him outside of work, would you consider it just for the thrill of being with a pro baller?"

I protested weakly. "Well, I don't know, maybe, but this is all very...unprofessional."

"So, here's what is going to happen," Simone said, as she reached out to De'Angelo. She grabbed the elastic of his team issued sweatpants and pulled him closer. "I'm going to start sucking his dick. After a minute or so, I'll let you have a turn. If you want it, it's yours. After another minute, I'll take it back. So on and so forth. Eventually, he's going to come, and whoever takes that load wins the bet."

She pulled the elastic of his pants down, revealing tight black boxers which were already being strained by what was underneath. She started rubbing him through it.

"If I win the bet, we make an offer on the house in Oregon City. If you win the bet, and we're happy, we make an offer on this house, listing you as the realtor. Deal?"

I was silent, just staring at what was going on in front of me. She pulled the boxers down and revealed exactly what I expected -- a long, girthy, black cock. It was still fairly flaccid, but not completely at rest -- it knew what was coming. Simone reached out with her tongue and licked the tip of it. "You've got a minute to decide, but I'm going to get started. Don't wait too long."

I stared as Simone went to work. The glans of his cock was much pinker in color than the rest of his shaft, which actually got a little darker as it got towards the base. He appeared to be completely shaved, so it looked bigger than it was, but I was actually surprised it wasn't bigger. Once again, my racial stereotypes were wrong; this was by far the tallest man whose cock I had ever seen, but it wasn't the biggest cock. It wasn't small by any means, but it just wasn't the monster I was expecting. Part of me was relieved, part of me was disappointed.

Although perhaps slightly let down by his size, I was very impressed with the gusto with which Simone was working it. She had taken most of his cock into her mouth, and was quickly sliding it back and forth, using a ton of spit for lubrication. As I watched, she took it deeper and deeper into her mouth, and before long was deep throating it. De'Angelo had started to make quiet moaning noises, and once it hit the back of her throat, he gasped.

I was so enthralled with what I was watching that I almost forgot the bet. But once she turned to me and made eye contact, I knew what was about to happen. She took the cock out of her mouth and pointed it in my direction. By this time, it was completely hard, and it was definitely well above average. I didn't know whether to give in or run away.

"You know you want this."

"I just.... I don't...this isn't right."

"Sweetie, just put it in your mouth and you'll know this is right." She moved him so the head of his penis was only a few inches in front of my mouth. She continued to stroke it, and I watched a tiny drop of precum emerge, and glisten on the tip of his dick.

Simone leaned her head towards me, and I briefly thought she was going to kiss me, but then she turned her head to the side and whispered into her ear. "I want this house. I'm going to let you win." Then she moved her left hand from my shoulder to the back of my head and gently pushed it forward.

I wanted to resist, but found myself not actually doing so. This whole situation was extremely surreal; part of me felt like I was outside my body, watching myself lean forward, open my mouth, and lick the top of his cock. A tiny drop of precum emerged from his tip, and I kissed the top of his head, swallowing it. I ran my tongue up the underside of this shaft, from the base all the way to the tip, and took the whole head of his cock into my mouth when I got there.

"There you go," Simone cooed. "What a good girl. Make my man feel good." She left her hand on the back of my head, guiding my speed as I bobbed up and down on his cock. It was already wet from her work on it, and sliding it down my throat felt natural and easy.

I have always had a bit of an exhibitionist streak, so once I got past the initial surprise and unprofessionalism of it all, I began to enjoy myself. Simone was watching me intently, and I was happy to let her do so as I felt my instincts take hold. I could feel my nipples getting hard, and it began to get very moist in between my legs.

I had almost forgotten where I was by the time Simone grabbed the base of his shaft and pulled it gently out of my mouth, breathlessly murmuring "My turn, sweetie." Although briefly crestfallen, I was quickly eager to watch her go to work again. Any hesitation that I had two minutes earlier was completely gone.

She slid him back into her mouth, but this time, instead of looking at me, she looked up at him and started making moaning noises. Rather than deep throating, she chose to slide the head in and out of her mouth faster while working her hand up and down the rest of the shaft. She stopped sucking long enough for some dirty talk.

"Do you like that, baby?"

He muttered something largely unintelligible, but was probably "Oh yeah."

"You enjoying our contest?"

Another positive response.

"You think this blonde girl gives good head?"

"Mmm-hmmm."

"As good as me?"

"No, baby."

"Guess we'll find out, huh?"

She smiled and winked at me, and took him back into her mouth for a couple more deep thrusts, making exaggerated slurping noises. Then she pointed it back in my direction, and I eagerly took it back into my mouth. It had gotten even harder since last time, and I wondered how much longer he could hold on. Simone leaned in and licked the side of his cock, sliding her face up and down his shift while I was sliding it in and out of my mouth.

I tried to look him in the eye, but he had closed his eyes, so I did as well and lost myself in the moment. It wasn't until I felt Simone unbuttoning my jacket that I opened my eyes again. She was looking up at him as she was doing so.

"I bet she has fantastic tits, D. Do you want to see her tits?"

"You know it."

I felt a brief desire to pull away and resist, but quickly remembered that I wanted this to happen. I let her unbutton my jacket all the way, and slip it off my shoulders. I stopped sucking his cock long enough to let her remove my jacket, and she took the opportunity to take him back into her mouth, as my minute was apparently up. I looked at her, unsure how to proceed; she motioned for me to take my own top off while she continued to fellate him.

I unbuttoned my blouse and slipped it off. The white bra underneath was frilly but not something I would typically consider lingerie. A practical business bra, if there is such a thing.

I looked at her again; she seemed more interested in what I was doing than the cock in her mouth. I motioned at my bra, and she nodded. I reached behind me and unclasped my bra, letting my breasts free.

Simone smiled in approval and took the cock out of her mouth, pointing it back at me and guiding my head back to his shaft. I engulfed it with my mouth, and started really working hard on it. I really wanted this sale, and I really wanted to win this contest. She said she was going to let me win, but I couldn't be sure that she wasn't just saying that to get me to play along.

"Wow, D, check out these tits!" Simone exclaimed, reaching over to play with my right nipple. "Blondie's sporting a great rack!" D'Angelo mumbled something approvingly as I kept with the rhythm.

Simone slid behind me, and groped me from behind with both hands. "So firm. Her nipples are hard as hell, D, she's really enjoying this." She tweaked my right nipple suddenly, and I jerked a bit, emitting a light squeak. She chuckled and nuzzled my neck, lightly kissing down my shoulder.

"How you doin', D? You getting there?" He grunted approvingly. I continued my efforts, trying to push him over the edge.

"I think I know how we can get him off," she whispered in my ear. She slid to my side, lowered her head to my chest, and said "Check this out, D." She took my nipple into her mouth and sucked hard on it. Her right hand slid down my belly and onto my crotch, rubbing me gently through my skirt.