The Recruit

An erotic story of love, lust and betrayal

By Thomas Graham

"Sex was the most fun I ever had without laughing"...Woody Allen...Annie Hall 1977

CHAPTER ONE....The Conference

Swans Nest Hotel, Stratford-on-Avon. Tuesday October 9th 2012. 3:15 a.m.

'Fuck me, Tom!'

Three favourite words dear to my heart, but tonight they seem somehow surreal, as if heard through a long echoing tunnel, but it is a request no man in his right mind can refuse. I carry on doing as requested, with renewed vigour.

The slender blonde writhes below me as I move ever deep inside her, the headboard banging against the wall with my every thrust into her amazing body. I wonder what the neighbours will think? Perhaps we have turned them on and they are matching us, bang for bang? Or will they complain to the management? For me, it wouldn't be the first time, Park Lane Hilton, upmarket, pristine and serene, not the ideal venue for vociferous threesomes. The elderly female neighbour, far from deaf, had been either jealous or an insomniac. Or just fucking inconsiderate.

The green eyes of the devastatingly attractive girl are dilated, wild with lust, she is shaking her head from side to side, her long hair thrashing against my cheeks, as I move faster and faster, seemingly into a bottomless pit. She had made me believe she was nineteen and an underwear model for a franchised boutique in Harrods, and had just dumped her boyfriend, and this is revenge sex. I don't give a damn what sort of sex it is, this is at last the girl of my dreams and I am fucking her with every ounce I can muster.

I kiss her hard, thrusting my tongue into her mouth, tasting her saliva, and she sucks greedily on it, her sweat covered breasts sliding against my chest, her nipples two hard pinpoints of fire.

With the expertise of a much older woman, my unexpected lover lifts her legs over my shoulders, locking her heels behind my neck, thus tightening her pussy but gaining me an impossible further inch, my balls swinging wildly against her ass. Her breathing becomes more rapid, I can feel both our hearts racing, beating fast like that of a cat. A Tom-Cat, I laugh to myself. I know she is close to orgasm, the muscles inside her have started to grip my cock like a clam.

And I still don't know her name. But it isn't necessary, we are two lost souls that need to lose ourselves in each other, to unite our genitals in total abandon, it wouldn't be the first time for either of us, and most likely not the last.

We had met in the empty hotel bar, everyone else was drinking in the lesser costly local pubs, she was dressed in buttock-flashing hot-pants and a scooped halter top displaying pretty much most of her full breasts. Those two items of clothing, both a pale mustard colour, were all that she wore and cried out " fuck me", the five inch yellow stilettos were superfluous. Perched opposite me cross-legged on a bar stool, clutching a double vodka, she informed me she was lonely and her boyfriend, the keyboard guy of "Groans from Within," no longer excited her, either in bed or out of it.

Entering the bar, I had originally labeled her as a hooker, but to hell with it, I was also lonely, and her company, in this room at least, would cost me no more than a few drinks, and I had sufficient cash on me if it went any further, preferably six inches further! It was a hotel, I was alone, the porn channel and chat lines were not enough, I needed to fuck a real live woman. This woman.

'Can I buy you a drink?' Not a very original approach, but the humour in her emerald eyes told me it was the right one.

With a bemused expression she looked me up and down, with a lot of emphasis on the down.

'A double Martini please...to start with.' She smiled, flashing a perfect set of white teeth that would have cost any woman that I know a second mortgage.

She studied me closely as the first two double Martinis disappeared without touching the sides, and a third quickly replaced it. I was wearing one more item than her, a white sports shirt displaying recently tanned arms, courtesy of an unseasonably sunny week in Paris with a married friend, a pair of fawn chinos and, with the effect that hopefully they would produce, loose boxers. I was understandably hard.

We shared brief details of our life so far, the sexual ones in particular, or rather the current lack of them. I bordered on the difference in our ages, me a couple of months past the exact middle thirties, she allegedly approaching her nineteenth.

'Age is just a number, as is the length of a cock,' was her reply in a lowered voice as her fingers played a tattoo on my knee. 'I need sex tonight,' she declared without emotion, almost as if she was reading the news. She uncrossed her legs and through the loose leg of her pants I caught a glimpse of the pink folds of her pussy. My heart rate increased.

'Who doesn't?' I'd replied, copying her gesture, no longer hiding my swollen offering. Her eyes flared at the sight. I wondered if she was wet.

'You like my tits?' she had asked coyly, stroking my thigh, her long fingers inching towards the tip of my extended cock. Her nails were painted in a kaleidoscope of colours and she had a gold stud in the side of her nose and one in her tongue. I imagined the stimulating effect that might have if she took me into her mouth.

The invitation obvious, I ran the tip of my finger over the tanned swelling, millimetres from where the outline of a barely hidden nipple lay in waiting, I resisted the temptation to search for it. Her skin was as smooth as brand new silk. Hooker or not, I had to have this young woman, everyone else, my ex wife Francesca, the sexy new recruit Helen, the absent and, up until now, unavailable receptionist called Anna, were just a shadow of my memory.

I'd locked eyes with hers, there was an instant telepathic transfer of need, of out and out lust, there was no way this time around that we would not fuck.

'Very tasty, they would look even better with my cum all over them.' I replied huskily, hardly recognising my own voice.

The girl licked her purple-painted lips, whispering, although we were alone, 'I can think of far better places for it than that!'

She grinned and lightly traced a finger along the length of my cock, which lurched under her touch. Was this at last the girl of my dreams? Eat your heart out, Uma!

With the touch of a feather, I slid my hand from the generous swelling of her breasts, paused on the prominent outline of a nipple, and smoothly down onto to her naked belly, which was pleasantly rounded, no doubt from the effect of the many cocks I was sure she'd had thrusted deep inside her, there was little doubt my own contribution would be next. Keeping my eyes glued to hers, I eased my fingers under the waistband of her pants, searching for her pussy. She didn't resist, in fact, to my delight, she even breathed in to accommodate my probing hand.

'I'm Tom by way,' I said as my forefinger encountered a trace of soft pubic hair. 'What's your name?'

She shrugged her shoulders, allowing the straps of her top to fall away, daring gravity to defy the sheer material the support of her engorged nipples.

'Who needs names when you're horny? I have a very wet pussy, you feel as though you have a good-sized cock, tonight we will fuck, tomorrow we will both be history.' She frowned, 'You do want to fuck me, don't you? Please don't tell me you're gay.'

Reluctantly, I removed my hand from the exploration of her groin, my fingers had proved she was indeed very wet, and looked cautiously around the room, the barman was nowhere to be seen. I unzipped my chinos, pulled aside the gap in my boxers and extracted the biggest hard-on I'd had in my life.

I grinned, 'This tell you anything?'

She licked her lips, stood up and took my hand. 'Come on, let's go fuck!'

As we left the bar, the blonde didn't ask if I was alone, but something told me that wouldn't have stopped her anyway.

'Nice fat cock,' she said as she licked the head in the elevator, and a large pearly drop of pre-cum dribbled onto her tongue. 'Yum, yum, and you are circumcised too, I like that.'

I said nothing, when a woman's mouth is open, I keep mine shut!

Ten minutes later found us naked on my hotel bed and humping away frantically like two randy teenagers that had just discovered sex. We had started out with her thrashing away wildly on top of me, then with her face in the pillow while I took her mightily from behind, and finally legs spread-eagled, on her back, she liked to finish in the Mish Posish, as she put it, so we could see each other's face when we came.

The lover of my dreams starts to tremble from inside to out, I can feel the beat of her heart through my cock, I too am ready to release my sperm deep into the depths of that swollen belly.

'Yes, you fucker,' she cries out, 'Give me your spunk, give me your baby.'

Well used to that broody outburst from many a pre-orgasmic woman, I don't pause for a second. Something, however, tells me this blond bimbo is serious, but it is too late for me to care, my gathering army of sperm are to leave home in force!

In the mist of approaching orgasm, I barely notice that the banging of the headboard seems to have transferred itself to the doorway. I pause briefly to listen.

'Please don't stop now,' my lover gasps, 'I'm coming.'

I grit my teeth, no way am I going to stop, I am ready to cum myself. A crazy thought enters my mind, what happens if the sperm have left their assembly point, but fail to ejaculate, where do they go?

But the knocking persists, and this time I do stop. In fear.

'Husband?'

Thoughts of déjà vu.

To my profound shock, the blonde's beautiful face dissolves before my eyes and changes into that of someone equally stunning, but twenty years older, with a sharper nose, and those grey eyes I had come to know so well from the many illicit hours we had spent sweating together in hotel beds. Rebecca.

'It's only Dan at the door,' Rebecca laughs, 'He won't mind you fucking me, please don't stop now, I really need to cum.'

The wife of my most important client squirms on my cock, egging me on, but the person at the door is not going to go away in any hurry. Fuck!

I do stop. Finally.

Because I woke up!

The room was dark, the bed was empty, no blonde, how many times have I had that dream? The only proof it was the hard cock in my hand, a very poor substitute for a blonde's wet pussy! And I still hadn't cum with her.

They say if you work on your dreams they can come true, and I have frequented that bar regularly for over six months now, but to no avail. Just two hookers, an overweight married brunette that silently screamed out yes please, but still said no fucking way, an eager transsexual that suggested fucking every way, and a thin black-haired girl barely out of her teens who turned out to be a lesbian. Ironically, she was the most fuckable.

The knocking had now turned into a hammering, and a female voice called out my name, and it certainly wasn't the young woman of my dream, nor Rebecca Ricard.

Trying to conceal my leaking erection, whether it was pre-cum or the real McCoy, I wasn't sure, I had been that close, I opened the door. Of course, there was no husband there, although Rebecca would have been worth it, the blonde even more so, I made a mental note to give Becky a call, she was my current lover, even though she was still married. Just. And we hadn't had sex in a while. A while for her being no more than seven days.

'Helen? What the fuck?'

The new recruit stood in the doorway.

'Tom, I'm sure about Bill now.'

'Sure of what?' I peered at the clock on the TV and tried hard not to show irritation, 'And at three-thirty in the fucking morning?'

The thirty-year old brunette pushed past me. I gave her a bemused look. I wondered if she had changed her mind after our discussion last night and was ready to change her life, beginning with the exchange of our bodily fluids.

'Do come in.'

I closed the door and she turned and stared at me, pausing longer than was polite on my nether regions, 'Why are you dressed like that?'

'I just told you, it's three-thirty in the morning, do you expect me to answer the door in my Armani suit? Think yourself lucky, Helen, I could have been naked.'

'Don't you wear pyjamas like everybody else?'

I laughed, 'Pyjamas? What time machine did you just step out of? You were making so much noise outside, this was all I could find.'

Fortunately, the near darkness was hiding the erection in my hastily donned boxers, but for how long I wasn't sure, my attractive work associate was hardly dressed for dinner and theatre herself.

Helen peered through the gloom at my rumpled bed, 'I hope I haven't interrupted anything?'

'Only a nineteen-year old blonde I picked up in the bar!'

'Yeah, sure.'

'Okay, tell me what's going on.' I perched on a corner of the bed, which on reflection was not a good idea. Helen looked discreetly away, blushing.

'Do you mind putting some clothes on first?'

I looked down at my exposed cock and rescued my jeans off the back of the chair.

'Sorry,' I muttered, although I didn't mean it, Helen was quite fanciable, and of course I questioned her real reason for coming to my room in a dressing gown in the middle of the night, following that dream my cock was still prepared for any eventuality. But, as Helen had kept reminding me, she was married, even though it was to a seemingly cheating asshole. Turning my back, I pulled my jeans up over my hips.

'Nice ass!'

I turned and grinned, 'If you came in here to study my body, you should have come much earlier, I would have given you the full tour!'

But she wasn't smiling, she sat on the bed, at a safe distance.

'Okay, if you don't want my body, what do you want?'

'Tom, we talked about that last night and you know my feelings on that score. I'm scared, I think that man has been in my room.'

'What makes you think that?'

'My clothes in my case weren't how I'd left them, my underwear was...' Her words tailed off, '...never mind, that's not the point.'

'Sounds like the hotel perv to me, I'll call the manager in the morning.'

'I'm not concerned about my underwear...'

'I am,' I grinned, 'You have exceptionally good taste in the panty department, especially the lemon coloured ones with the blue frilly edges.'

'How the hell...?" She put her hand to her mouth, 'Oh my God, you saw?'

I nodded with a grin. Just last week, this new office junior had tripped on a step, dropping her papers, the hem of her skirt rising high over her hips.

'You were not supposed to look.'

'I'm not the local vicar, Helen, and as I said last night, you do have excellent taste in underwear...'

It was not so much the garment she had been wearing, but the derriere they had encased, a perfect peach shaped pussy revealed within.

'...and besides, I'm not the only one around here with a nice ass.'

'Tom, please, I'm being serious.'

I tried to hide my yawn, yesterday had been a long day, and much as I enjoyed her company, especially after our very intimate chat last night, I wanted to get back to sleep and hopefully resume the sex with my blonde, I had a date with a long overdue orgasm.

'Can't this wait until the morning?'

'I don't want to go back to my room, especially if this man has a key, can't I just stay in here?'

I shrugged my shoulders, 'Ok, I suppose so. Come on then, tell me, what's happened since yesterday?'

'I think I know for certain now that Bill is having an affair.'

'And you have come in here to get even with him, is that it?'

Her eyes darkened, she shifted uneasily on the bed, 'You have a one-track mind, Mr. Graham. I didn't come in here to have sex, even though we kissed last night.'

'You better do up that dressing gown then, I can see my breakfast warming up!'

She looked down, stood up and grabbed the tails of her gown, 'You bastard! Why didn't you say something.'

'I just did! Better than watching TV any time of the day!' I grinned, but all I had seen was a brief flash of black underwear.

Helen stood up, 'Tom, after what we talked about last night, perhaps this isn't a good idea me being in here.'

'I totally agree with you.'

'What?' She looked at me in surprise, last night we came very close to breaking all the rules, hers mostly.

'You just interrupted a rather pleasant dream, Helen.'

She glanced at my groin, 'Is that why you had a...' She put a hand to her mouth, 'Oh my God, I'm so sorry.'

I patted the bed and she sat back down. 'It's okay, the blonde bimbo can wait.' I shrugged my shoulders, 'What's another twenty-four hours? So, tell me about your husband.'

Helen shook her head, 'No, you tell me about your dream first, I'm interested now.'

I shook my head, 'I'm not sure...'

'Tom, I told you last night I have a lot of catching up to do, I know what you think about in the day, I want to know what goes through your mind at night now.'

I grinned and put my arm around her, 'I can demonstrate that without words!'

She pulled away, 'I don't doubt that. Can we settle for just the dream for now please?'

'Okay, but the offer is still there, you know how much I want you.'

Helen looked pointedly at my groin, although she could see nothing beyond my usual bulge, 'I know that, Tom. Please?'

'Well, you know the bar downstairs...'

'Yes.'

'It was empty, and there was this young blonde all alone sat on a bar stool, and I offered buy her a drink.'

Helen grinned, 'The way you do. Did you have sex with her?'

'I was doing, until someone knocked on my door, remember?'

'I'm sorry. Tell me about it, Tom, I have a book at home about dreams, perhaps I can interpret yours for you.'

And I know how, I thought, surreptitiously putting a hand in my pocket and rearranging my erection.

'Personally?'

'Don't even think about it, Tom!'

'Well, here's what happened...'

**

TWO WEEKS EARLIER

Allen-Graham Architects London EC4. Tuesday 25^th September 2012, 1:30 p.m.

I had just returned from a survey in Leatherhead when Kevin Allen called me into his office, his, being the senior partner, was slightly larger than mine and had two windows to my one, but I had the better view, the street outside, his was the blank brick wall of the car repair shop behind. In the three years I had known Rachel's husband, he had grown shorter, fatter and balder, little wonder his wife detested him.

'Tom, with you working on the Ricard landscaping project, don't you think we should get some extra help in here?'

Following his separation from my occasional lover Rebecca, Daniel Ricard had sold the marital spread in Walton-on-Thames and moved further out into Surrey, inheriting an even worse disaster of a garden, and with one of our employees off sick and another on holiday, had put our architectural practice in the City under pressure.

'And of course you have someone in mind, Kevin?'

'Helen Atkins,' he replied, avoiding my eyes.

The surname stirred something in my memory, 'Your cousin Helen?'

'That's the one, you don't look too pleased with the idea.'

I sat down heavily in a chair, 'The woman's a nutcase, Kev.'

He grinned, 'Just because she wouldn't drop her pants for you that time doesn't mean she hasn't got a brain, and come to think of it that makes her even more worthy of the job.'