The Stockroom Ch. 03

(With apologies to Dashiell Hammett. For unfamiliar readers, the cast of characters so far includes Adam, a twenty year old college student; Janey, also twenty and the object of a crush by Adam; and Paula, their forty something year old supervisor. In the first story, Adam discovered that Paula and Janey were lovers. In the second, Paula seduced Adam, who never found out that Janey was secretly watching them. This time... well, we'll see.)

She walked through the doorway and examined the room, or more accurately, its contents. There was a tarnished brass coat tree in the left corner with a rumpled topcoat thrown on one of its ears. The other corner held a table with spindly legs and a battered typewriter. A wooden desk was the center piece. It was marred with scratches and stains, and decorated by an ashtray, a pint bottle of what appeared to be cheap whiskey, and a pair of scuffed shoes.

There was a rasp and a flame sprang up. A lighter touched the end of a cigarette and then snapped shut before being tossed on the desk beside the ashtray. There was a snort from behind the desk.

"A dame. Every time I think it can't get any worse, a dame walks in my door. And then it always does."

Her eyes returned to the shoes. They led to a pair of crossed ankles, covered in black socks. After that was a pair of unpressed slacks, a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a tie that was pulled down. What first appeared to be suspenders, when carefully examined, became the straps of a shoulder holster. The butt of a revolver peeked out from under one arm.

Above the open collar was a face, shadowed by a snap brim hat pulled down over the eyes, as though the wearer had been using it to cover his face. Little could be seen of that face beyond the cigarette stuffed in one corner of the mouth. Hands rested behind and below the hat, undoubtedly braced on the back of the neck, the elbows sticking out.

"Close the door, sweetheart," came the gruff command. "I ain't interested in heating the whole damn building." The voice was hoarse and throaty, as though from too much smoking and too many nips at the whiskey bottle. "I can't afford any increase in the rent for this joint."

She turned to close the door. She seemed to feel the eyes under the hat brim taking her measure. Perhaps deliberately, she leaned forward a bit as she shut the door, allowing the material of her dress to pull tight over her bottom. She carefully shut the door and walked to the middle of the room.

"What can I do for you doll face? I don't mind a reasonable amount of trouble, but somehow you look like you could cause more than just that."

"I came in response to the ad." When no comment was forthcoming, she plowed on. "The one looking for a secretary? This IS the Spade Detective Agency, right?"

"Damn, I'd about forgot that ad. Well, it used to be the Archer and Spade Detective Agency, but with Miles taking the long sleep it didn't make much sense to keep his name on the door. I'm Sam. Pull up a chair and show me what you got."

The woman sat down in the armchair that was positioned in front of the desk. She crossed her ankles, tucking her legs to one side. There was the flash of black lace. Her dress was dark blue with a ruffled front. A fur stole was draped over her shoulders. Her dress came down to mid-calf, but the slit on one side had shifted, exposing one silk stocking clad leg above the knee. She wore heels with a strap around her ankles. Her features were slightly shaded by the hat and veil she wore.

Sam rose from the chair and circled around to the front of the desk. The left hand fumbled for the ashtray, crushing the cigarette without looking. A quick hop and the figure was seated again, this time on the front of the desk. His other hand tipped the hat up onto the back of the head, exposing fine, almost delicate features and a hint of blonde hair.

"Well, I tell you what I told everyone else and then you can probably scamper away like all the rest of the broads that done been here. I need someone to type letters and reports, handle the files, answer the phone and deal with my clients. The files are a mess since Effie left. I don't pay much and what I do pay is generally going to be late."

"Its a deal."

Sam laughed. "What's your name, sister?"

"Call me Brigid."

"Okay Brigid, you're hired." Sam fixed the woman with a steely gaze. "Let me warn you though, the clientele here ain't exactly Nob Hill. Some of them are dangerous, none of them are society swells. They're mostly bad men, with the occasional bad woman thrown it for good measure. They've all got something to hide. But then, so does everyone."

The woman looked away and then back. "That's okay, Sam. I've been bad, worse than you could know."

"You know, that's good, because if you actually were as innocent as you pretend to be, we'd never get anywhere."

"And where are we going to get?"

Sam leaned to the woman, bending until his eyes were level with hers. His right hand shot out and locked in Brigid's hair, knocking the hat and veil to the floor. He pulled her face to him with a jerk, and crushed his mouth to her red lips. He kissed her until she began to moan before he released her.

"You know where we're going. You've known it since you walked in the door." He straightened up, his hands roaming over her shoulders and down her arms. One caught her wrist and brought her fingers to the firm bulge straining the material of his slacks.

"Oh Sam," breathed Brigid. She looked up at him as her fingers traced the outline of a what could only be a hard cock. Both hands fumbled at the belt and then the zipper until the pants loosened and a swollen shaft popped free.

Sam's eyes narrowed. He pushed Brigid's hands away and grasped the stiff cock with one hand. He tipped the woman's chin up with the other hand. Almost gently, he slapped the mushroom shaped head against each cheek before rubbing it on her scarlet painted lips. Eyes locked and then those lips parted and began to slide down the length of the rigid shaft.

Sam groaned softly, his hand taking the back of Brigid's head. He urged her forward as his hips began to move. Her lips tightened and left a wet trail along the length of the cock plunging between her lips. He began to pump in and out of her mouth while at the same time her head began to bob back and forth.

"God," gasped Sam, in a surprisingly high pitched voice. He began to thrust harder until Brigid gagged as the unyielding head slammed into her throat. He started to make apologetic sounds and then seem to change his mind. He stepped back, pulling his cock from the woman's mouth. He reached down, grasped one hand and pulled her to her feet and against him. She clung to him, her eyes bright. She bent her head and kissed him, the heels undoubtedly giving her the height advantage.

For long moments their mouths remained locked, tongues dueling. Brigid began to rub her mid-section against his, pushing the exposed cock up and against the swell of her mound, still concealed by her dress. Her hands were on his hips and she ground herself on him. The stole fell from her shoulders, exposing her white arms. His hands reached behind her, fumbling with the buttons on the back of the dress. In his haste, several popped off and he jerked the dress down her body, leaving her clad only in her black slip.

Sam broke the embrace. He spun the arm chair that she had been sitting in around and pressed the back of it tightly against the table edge. He grasped Brigid's arm and pushed her towards the chair.

"Kneel on the chair facing the desk. Lean over."

Trembling, Brigid did as Sam commanded. He grapsed the black slip's lacey hem, working it up her legs until it bunched around her hips. Sam's eyes raked her legs as their full length appeared. Her seamed stockings ended in a flowery ruffle, the straps of a black garter belt holding them up. He grinned as the last tug revealed only the garter belt itself.

"No panties, sister? You had another card to play to get this job didn't you?." He positioned himself behind her as she knelt on the chair edge. Once again he took the cock in hand, now wet with Brigid's saliva. He rubbed it over the firm white cheeks of the woman's ass. He leaned against her as the head disappeared into her cleft, spreading those same cheeks.

Sam began to press harder. A frown creased the surprisingly unlined face as he seemed momentarily unsure as he worked his cock farther down, trying to find the nesting place he was searching for. An impatient noise came from the brown haired head bent over the table top. A shapely hand reached back, touching the shaft and guided it to its intended target.

"Oh GOD!" Sam exclaimed sharply as the shaft slid into the nest of brown curls. He closed his eyes for a minute, shifting from one foot to the other as he adjusted his stance. He began short, sharp jabs of his hips, his hands running over the full ass in front of him. Their breathing became faster, turning to panting as Sam picked up the pace, thrusting harder and deeper with each movement of his hips. His hands began to tap rhythmically on Brigid's ass cheeks, gently at first, then becoming sharper and harder in time with the hip thrusts slamming against the woman.

"Pop! Pop!" The small hands struck harder on the bare round ass before him. Brigid cried out in protest. Sam leaned over her. "Listen sister, when you're slapped, you'll take it and like it." He rose up and continued to spank her as his hips pistoned back and forth. Sam's head tipped back in wild excitement and suddenly the hat fell off and blonde curls tumbled free. At the same time, Sam's pants fell to his ankles and exposed the leather ties that supported the strapon that was plunging into the dripping slit before it.

"Paula, Paula, Paula! Your Janey is fucking you! Oh god it feels so good, so wicked, so wild." The smooth, shapely legs braced themselves as the lithe young woman redoubled her assault on her older lover.

"Baby, you feel so good inside me." Paula locked her arms against the desk top and began to meet each of Janey's thrusts. "Can you feel it Janey? Can you feel the base rubbing against you?"

"Yes, YES!" The twenty year old girl seized her lover's hips and went wild, slamming the latex cock into Paula. Slender build or not, there was now no mistaking Janey as anything but a young woman. She shrugged out of the shoulder holster and its plastic gun. Frantic fingers unbuttoned the shirt, showing her small breasts were restrained by an excessively tight bra. A twist of the front clasp allowed them to spring free. Her back arched and she cried aloud wordlessly even as her fingers found her exposed nipples and began to pull on them.

"Paula, oh my, oh my Paula, Paula, PAULA," babbled Janey as she buried the girl cock into the kneeling woman. The base crushed back onto her own clit and the two women both came, their cries assuring each other of their orgasms.

Janey slumped on top of Paula, her arms circling the other woman. Finally, Paula groaned.

"Sweetheart, I have GOT to get out of this position before you have to carry me home just like this."

"Hmmmm, that would be hard. Maybe I should call Adam to come help? Or just come?" Janey skipped back, giggling.

Paula unfolded herself from the chair and stretched. "Gad, that feels good." She looked at Janey and teased, "And what's with the comment about Adam? You hinting for a three way?"

"Good heaven's no," denied Janey. She unfastened the strapon's ties and put it on the desk. "I've decided that I like me fucking you better than watching him do it." She hastily added, "Not that I mind you doing that again whenever you want."

Paula kissed Janey and winked at her. "Right now I don't think I can handle any lover besides you." She worked her slip back down and picked up her dress. "This thing. How did women survive in ones like this? Any tighter and I couldn't breathe. I was scared I was going to split it when I sat down."

"It could be worse," Janey laughed, as she yanked up her trousers and took a shoulder bag from under the table, placing the dildo in it. "Imagine it. Instead of introducing me to Humphrey Bogart films, you could have been a fan of Elizabethan romances or something that would have required whalebone corsets and innumerable petticoats." The young woman frowned. "Then I would have had to wear a codpiece and breeches and stocking and a powered wig. We'd still be trying to get undressed."

"Otherwise we would have done this at home." Paula surveyed the room. "I am getting quite fond of this place though. Still, I'm glad the manager is out of town and we're closed on Sunday." She looked at the ashtray. "I'm also glad you didn't actually light that cigarette."

"Yuck," Janey made a face. "How do people smoke them? I can't even stand the taste of them unlit." She winked at Paula. "Now you used to smoke you told me. But then you do enjoy strange tastes. Or maybe it's the taste of strange things."

Paula pretended to glower. Then she winked. "Perhaps. The stuff that dreams are made of. Come on, let's get this place cleaned up."

Janey looked down. "These darn shoes. I couldn't get them off in order to get free of the pants and I thought I was going to trip three times."

"I think you did at least once! You certainly entered me in a hurry," Paula's eyes twinkled, "Considering you claim to have never done this before, you were mighty quick on the draw."

"I haven't!" Janey started to protest before she caught the mirth in Paula's eyes. She pretended to grab between her legs, where the bulge no longer existed."

Paula staggered and put her hand on her heart."Yikes." The older woman rubbed her bottom and pretended to grimace. "My bottom is stinging. I think you enjoyed the spanking. I notice you didn't slow down, or lighten up after you gave your line. In fact I think you liked it a lot."

"Want me to kiss it and make it better?" The mischief danced in Janey's eyes.

"Maybe when we get home."

Janey leered. "Maybe when we get home, I'll need to freshen up those sweet cheeks before I kiss them. They look cute all nice and pink."

Paula rolled her eyes. "Oh NO! I've created a monster. Next thing you'll want thigh high boots for your birthday and maybe a leather bustier."

"Yeah!" exclaimed Janey. She struck a pose. "Call me 'Mistress Janey'."

The two women dissolved into laughter. When they sobered, Janey wrapped her arms around Paula and laid her head on her lover's shoulder.

"I don't want to be Mistress Janey. I just want to be Janey, Paula's girlfriend."

The two women put everything back the way they had first found it and stuffed the hand props into the shoulder bag. As she turned out the lights, Paula drew Janey into an embrace and kissed her, first on the forehead, then on both eyes and finally on the lips.

"Its the wrong movie, but what the heck. 'Here's looking at you, kid.'."

(The End)

(I suppose I cheated by placing this story in "Erotic Couplings". However I didn't want to give away the scenario right away, which would have happened if I'd put it in "Lesbian Sex" or even in "Crossdressers". If you didn't recognize the characters and the lines from "The Maltese Falcon, well, shame on you! Go watch it. Its still one of the best movies ever made.)