Turnabout is Fair Play

She stood there. She was naked except for panties and her high heels. Anyone looking could tell by the look on her face she was unsure how she ended up in this situation. She blushed bright red and started to cover her chest.

Chevy smiled at her, he'd planned and prepared for this all month, but had wanted to find someone longer.

She was a realtor subagent, working for a guy for almost no money. She had come to the house to show it to him. She had driven him in her car from the parking lot of her office. No one else had seen him. Chevy had called her directly, specifically, used a false name, said he was an unspecified 'friend of a friend.' Knew she could "use the commission." She'd been eager, excited, he'd told her he wanted a big house, the sort that her boss had been unable to move in the recent economy. In person, she'd been flirtatious, smiling, and overeager to please, trying the hard-sell of this the whole way in the parking lot. She saw his expensive suit, his expensive watch, and shoes, and decided he'd looked the part. Believed him when he mentioned paying property cash, no mortgage needed. There had been a fancy car in the parking lot, she'd assumed it was his.

Chevy had selected her carefully. For this sort of thing research pays off. He wasn't some one night and done pick-up artist. He liked to have women who were his. He may not be a one-woman man, but he told himself he'd never been the bad-guy, just preferred to control his collection.

He'd heard of her as a possibility when he'd bumped into one of her coworkers, a drunken asshole, had talked shit about her, and mentioned she had a poor sales record, debts, and Chevy had begun looking into her.

He had decided she would be perfect. Margaret, called Maggy in childhood, Meg those close to her as an adult. He had wondered about that, not understanding why a young woman would want to be called Meg. She was an Isolated and lonely woman. She had no real family, only a few friends but not close, she'd lost those in the divorce to her wealthy husband along with her home. The husband had been important because he'd been a bastard.

Everyone knew he'd been been verbally abusive, and suspected he was rough with her. He'd love to have known for sure, it would change his approach. She didn't really date these days which suggested it had been bad. According to a friend's post online the fucker had killed her cat. Chevy had always liked cats. He had really disliked her Ex after hearing that. He did know from a database that they'd had dueling restraining orders.

The Ex had a good lawyer, she'd had a fool. Everything in her behavior, and his research, said she was a broken and indecisive but not stupid woman. She'd simply always been reliant on other people. Tried to be a model for a predatory 'agent', and left college to marry the asshole as his third in a string of younger wives. She was attractive but just aging out of what he must have thought were her "beauty years". And now just over thirty and screwed by her ex-husband in the recent divorce she was probably mostly just insecure. He'd considered, he was probably doing her a favor. She'd had less than a year as a realtor, ink fresh on the license.

If the bastard hadn't messed her up enough during the marriage, he had made it worse when he the younger model got pregnant immediately. That was the lever he'd used, he'd talked about his desire to marry, have kids, and thus the interest in the big house. Once upon a time she'd had hopes of having a family, you could tell by her online presence. But when they talked in the car, she'd seemed convinced she'd never have it, talked like a woman ten or twenty years older than her real age. He'd used simple manipulation to suggest interest. He was reasonably handsome, and she believed he was richer than he was. That was the power of a good watch and thousand dollar shoes. She might not have believed one one-thousand-dollar suit, but she had looked at the shoes, well taken care of but not new, when he commented about having multiple watches while wearing this one, he saw her eyes. She'd been interested. The watch "cost" more than her car. It was for that perception he'd invested in it. A really good fake but still it sold the part.

Chevy had begun to work on her in the car and continued in the house, simple tricks, complex word associations, repetitions, "you're lonely, I'm lonely", fast patter and break her expected scripts, using language games to get her to say things she wouldn't normally. He made jokes and then took her jokes seriously, ramping up the conversation slowly. She had begun to act and talk about things that were personal because they seemed the thing to say and do in the conversation. He'd been offering her strange choices but implying he'd buy the house, not quite saying she'd need to answer. He let her consider herself as guiding the conversation throughout the tour. He'd picked up her comments and several times she'd been embarrassed that she had led the conversation to something sexual or personal. And she had been embarrassed when she said all she wanted was to catch a nice guy. He had started out asking "why a real estate agent" and all she'd meant to answer was it was what divorced women did on TV. He'd commented on her being good because she was pretty and somehow the course of the conversation had wandered in a minute, until he had said "ahh so I won't be surprised when you try to seduce me," and she'd felt she couldn't take it back and simply laughed. She wasn't sure

He wasn't an expert hypnotist or conman, but he had learned tricks, studied, and practiced what seemed to work. She'd been off guard the whole time. They'd kept talking throughout the whole house, she liked the attention and wanted the commission, she couldn't remember the last time someone had been so interested in her. He kept saying nice things, they seemed to have a lot in common, he said he thought she should be a model, she could have beautiful children, he liked children, she liked children, and why had she agreed when they'd said the best part was trying to make children. There had been smiles, and she knew they were both thinking about sex, she'd blushed and been a little excited, but she'd been trying to show him an upstairs bedroom.

She'd pointed out and sat on the bench in the bay window, and he said she deserved to be on a pedestal, she had felt her heart pound. She hadn't had a response.

He talked so fast, and she'd tried to keep up. She told herself, she was aggressively trying to do things he suggested because the commission was on the line, but somehow the boundary line kept moving. Normally she'd only flirt a little but she just kept going. Each time, he had made it seem like she was suggesting the new line. He'd mentioned being hungry, she'd mention having skipped breakfast, and somehow, they ended up talking about oral sex. Then she had agreed to a date. She'd been the one to first make the innuendo explicit, and she he smiled at it. She'd said yes when he had said she sounded like she wanted to get some lunch soon. She'd been grateful he'd gone back to talking about food, and only later did she realize she he might have thought that was a date offer? That was how it went the whole time. She'd made a comment, he'd said he liked her dress, she appreciated it, and made a comment about his suit, which led him to saying she was much less covered up. She'd agreed, and somehow ended up saying some of her outfits felt like being naked when men looked at him. The conversation had progressed, she'd somehow been asked and answered she didn't have a bra on. Then when the conversation looked like it would turn to normal, he'd basically said that the sexiest thing in the world would be a naked woman in the kitchen, she laughed and he said he'd marry the woman who was naked in a kitchen, and somehow, she'd just ended up taking her dress off.

So there she was. Standing in an empty kitchen in Just her panties and her high heels.

She felt off balance. She was waiting for him to say anything, and she didn't want to admit this was a mistake, even though she knew it was. Somehow this was the step towards the better future. She wasn't sure how this had happened, but she was usually so passive, and he'd said she should take a chance like twenty times. She'd admitted she was afraid, lonely, and he'd pointed out that if she saw someone who seemed interesting she should leap out and get them. She didn't agree, but it was there in her head. She was basically naked and asking herself whether he was what she wanted.

He'd actually been wondering if he oversold the lines. He'd had to turn away from her when he said she was the sort of woman any sane man would hold onto, said he wished him being rich was enough, that him being boring and kind wasn't the sort of thing a beautiful woman like her would want. He'd looked down and away from her, pretending he was ashamed when he said the naked woman in the kitchen line, he'd had trouble keeping his face serious, even after practicing it.

Now he was smiling.

The entire time she had been so nervous it had been easy twisting her words, and intentionally misreading, offering encouragement. He felt powerful and she'd seen his erection, thinking it was just her low cut top, her pretty face. He'd been enjoying the game. He just kept complimenting her but also suggesting that things could change if only she did something that seemed crazy to her. The whole time he thought she might not be fully going along with it. She had been so off balance when they did the tour that she messed up simple details of the sales pitch. He ignored the errors. He could see her losing confidence, encouraged it, each time she spoke she felt it came out wrong, except when she flirted.

Each time he spoke he was less interested in the house, but willing to learn more about her. By the time they'd finished the tour and stood in the kitchen, she was practically in tears.

He'd said several times that the sale of this house wasn't the end of the world for her. He'd known she hadn't had any other sales pending, no commissions and couldn't pay rent. He kept reminding her, this wasn't a big deal, this was just like a date. What's the worst that happens? You go home alone? What's the worst that happens? Someone sees you without your clothes on? What's the worst that can happen? The reality is there were other women, other men, other houses. That had been what did it. Showing interest in her, and minimizing interest in the house. She'd initiated touching, he'd made it clear he enjoyed it but as they'd talked he'd made it sound like he knew she wasn't interested. She touched his arm and she laughed at his joke, he'd said "a woman like you is too good for him." She'd put a hand on his shoulder and he'd said "never let anyone tell you know", and each time he touched her very chastely, didn't push it.

He'd played every trick in the book to enoucrage her to think that he would sleep with her and marry her if she just threw herself at him. He'd kept her thinking about problems in her life, kept her off balance, and a tiny part of him had felt bad for gaslighting her. But that part lost out to his desire.

The kitchen was cool, and she smiled at him across the Italian marble tiles. But the smile was clearly fake, her eyes were all nervousness, and her hands fidgeted, twitched at her sides for the long moment that he said nothing, did nothing, before they came up to cover her breasts.

Neither of them said anything for another long moment, before he said, "Beautiful." And he smiled and took a step forward.

She saw him react positively, she saw desire in his eyes, and heard him say she was beautiful, and the nervousness finally subsided. She finally was sure. She had wanted him, she must have, she took her dress off. She had gone after what she wanted. She wasn't going to let this one abandon her, not when she could give him what he wanted.

He walked to her and kissed her passionately. They embraced.

The house was empty, no furniture at all. An expensive looking cardboard refrigerator mockup and lawn maintenance was all the boss had paid for. It was too big and was expected to be on the market and unoccupied long enough that dressing it with furniture wasn't worth the expense. There had been no beds upstairs which he'd been disappointed by. He wondered if she'd fuck him on the floor, and kissed her again, said, "you're perfect."

She pressed herself against him and as they made out, she whispered. He thought it was mostly to herself, "too good to be true", "please," and "god." He stopped talking, his plan had worked, he'd bed her, and she'd be easy to string along, to add to his rotation of women he'd sleep with, and she'd be grateful of the hope even after he didn't buy the house.

She wrapped a leg around his, and pressed harder against him, and he could feel warmth from her sex through the thin fabric of his suit pants. He pressed harder against her, and she could feel him, rigid through the layers of clothing, felt his breathing quicken, knew he was getting into it, and she was so excited. She hadn't been intimate in a while, but she knew that she was good in bed. She might have screwed up her life, but she was going to be good.

They stood there making out, his hands on her back, he liked the weight of her leaning on him slightly, and the urgency with which her body responded. She liked his lips, he was a good kisser, and she had forgotten she missed that, nearly ten years married, and she hadn't made out like this in most of them. His tongue kept grazing hers, and he felt good.

They stayed there kissing for a long time, he felt her body against his moving, and he stayed hard against her, possessive in his grasp of her.

He slid his hands to her ass, and she gasped slightly as he squeezed hard. Then he lifted her. She was thin, and he was strong. He needed to look desirable, keep in shape if he wanted to get the hot women. He knew he'd impress them if he was showed his strength and enthusiasm.

As he lifted her, she wrapped her other leg around him. Now the tanned skin slid up and was around his waist. He smiled as she helped him. His hands on her ass, he couldn't see well as they continued to kiss. She had her eyes closed and he gently bit her lip, but he could see well enough. Standing up they were nearly the same height, she was slightly taller in the heels, but holding her, waist levels even so his hardon could grind between her legs, he had to bend his neck down to kiss her.

She managed to gasp out as they kissed, "family room."

She was holding him tightly and moving her hips as they pressed passionately against each other, and he managed to carry her around to the far side of the kitchen, the family room had carpeting, he thought it would be better than the hard tiles for her back. He gave himself a mental pat on the back for thinking of her comfort. She wondered for just a moment if she should say something.

He stopped kissing her as he came down to his knees on the thick carpet in the family room. She opened her eyes. She saw him smiling and the large glass doors let the early afternoon light stream in. being carried and laid back felt suddenly felt strange, and as she felt him lean and lay her back on the carpet, she'd made a little involuntary noise of protest. But he simply leaned down and kissed her. She tried to pull him, her arms still around him into a kiss.

He looked at her laying there, her hair was dark, black, or as close to it as to not matter any difference, haloed around her pretty face. He stared for a moment, her dark eyes, and he tried to remember if he'd heard in his research what her ethnicity was. She had pale skin that showed her flushed with the excitement, and she was wearing a little too much makeup, her lipstick was smeared. He smiled wider, he'd pointed it out the makeup, said she didn't need it. Her lips were full, and they were open, he ran a finger along them and she lifted her head enough to take it into her mouth. Even laying flat he liked her breasts, small but standing up firm and away from her chest, the nipples were dark, and her areolas small, when she'd taken her dress off he'd been pleasantly surprised. He'd been optimistic about her body, but he tried to keep his expectations reasonable. He looked down on her feeling proud of himself and shifted his knees wider, pressing her legs out. He could see the faint impression of her public hair through the thin fabric of the panties. But otherwise, she had perfect skin despite being over thirty. He thought she looked beautiful, the small lines around her eyes and the little things that had stood out to him made him smile wider, as she smiled up at him. He repeated "beautiful."

She squeezed his arms, tried again to pull him down to her, but he took his hand away from her face. Shrugged his shoulders back, arms now on either side of her, he began to take off his jacket.

She felt it going in nand released her hands from his arms. Instead, she clawed at his shirt to pull it up. When it was off, she looked at him. Flat stomach, broad chest, not much definition but muscles under flesh that looked good. Somehow not what she had expected somehow. Maybe it was because he was rich and older, and her ex-husband had let himself go. You don't need muscles when you have money. He smiled down at her, and she liked his looks, no hard lines, but his arms had felt strong. She'd felt the strength than she'd expected. His face was clean shaved and polished, but he had a dense body hair across his chest, and a sharp line dark against his pale belly leading into his pants. She placed her hands on his chest and ran one hand, one fingertip down, feeling his bellybutton and running it lightly to the line of his pants ending against his belt.

When he felt her move a hand to his belt, run her fingernail against his belly he shuddered, and made a noise from his throat halfway between a moan and a growl.

She enjoyed that noise, felt herself respond and pulled the other hand down to undo the buckle.

He let her struggle with his belt and reached out and began to touch her breasts. She'd been ready for him to be hard, rough, as his hands moved quickly towards them, but they barely touched. He stopped and his fingers rested featherlight as he gently gathered his fingers across her skin. He cupped her, and she pulled hard to get the belt out of the way, feeling the light teasing pressure of his palm moving back and forth across her nipples. His hands were smooth, and the pressure increased very gradually as he moved his hands, then he slipped her nipples between his fingers, and it was her turn to make an appreciative noise. Softer and fading, she lifted her chest up so her breasts met his hands harder.

She'd gotten the belt off and she felt for the fly of his underwear, she didn't want to wait any longer, she felt him hard inside and smiled as she managed to get her hand inside and touched him.

This time he made a grunting noise that was more aggressive, and it excited her, the initial grunt turned into a lingering sort of noise. Raspy and harsh, and he leaned down and kissed her hard as she stroked him gently inside his boxers. She felt herself breathing harder and knew she was wet enough to take him. She'd been thinking about sex with him for an hour now, first unwillingly, and his attention had been flattering.

He was hard and hot in her palm. He felt large. Certainly, larger than her ex-husband, but that wasn't one of the attributes which she'd thought she loved about him. She took him out through the fly, and his growl turned into a low moan as she gripped him tighter. She enjoyed the hold on him, having him literally in her grasp, and feeling the slight throb as he responded to the movement of her hand.

He found her nipples hypnotic, they had stuck out more as he played with them, and he felt her body move as he did, she'd opened her mouth and made a little noise, but as he kept touching them she had closed her eyes and didn't stay still, her body moved slightly in response, and the feeling of having her squirm from those light touches was almost as good as the exultation of her grabbing ahold of his cock and playing with it. She was being firm, not as gentle as he was used to, but she wasn't really giving him a hand job, just holding him, and he found himself practically growling as he waited, focused on the feeling.