Nicolette Ch. 01byAshleyBarbie©
For Stephen there were no words to describe his immediate attraction and immense desire for Nicolette. She had been only fifteen at the time, and her communication toward him that day had been completely nonverbal. To be more specific, Nicolette had stuck her tongue out at him and followed up with a two middle finger salute. Then, she had tossed her long dark mane of silky hair and flounced away, a cylinder of pink cotton candy in hand. In Nicolette's defense, Stephen knew that he had been gawking lustfully at her for over an hour.
But he couldn't help himself! His eyes had witnessed the impossible – seeing the great regret of his life again at the time he had initially met her! The little girl, Nicolette, was his ex-girlfriend's daughter, and the spitting image of his ex-girlfriend as a teenager. And Stephen never really stopped loving his ex-girlfriend, even after she dumped him and married someone else. Perhaps it was the pain of not having closure. Perhaps it was because his ex had those irritating moral values and wouldn't consummate their relationship that caused Stephen's lust for Nicolette. He never married, never had children of his own, and was unable to tear his eyes away from the little girl. He watched her figure disappearing and reappearing as she walked tree lined streets of East Stroudsburg, Pennsylvania.
A wealthy billionaire businessman with an abundance of beautiful women of every flavor at his discretion, it was so boring. He had stayed too long living the world of men's fantasies and everything had turned mundane. He was spending a lot of time daydreaming recently, unable to concentrate at work, recollecting all the events that led up to his current predicament. The years flew by like minutes in his memory, names and places all blurring together with no real emotional connection attached to any of the experiences. By American standards, he was the consummate image of the successful bachelor, but his soul was empty. He wished that he could do it all differently and marry Nicolette's mother. But it was too late for all that, so Stephen compromised by slipping into sexual fantasies of Nicolette. It didn't matter if he was screwing an heiress or a celebrity, he thought of Nicolette.
He had been contemplating selling his Pocono Mountain estate outside East Stroudsburg, Pennsylvania, until seeing Nicolette that fateful day. Other than wintertime skiing and close proximity to his ex-girlfriend, the place offered him little. But, after that encounter, he began making weekend trips from his brownstone in Manhattan to East Stroudsburg, hoping for an another encounter with Nicolette. He spent time in town, at the local Dairy Queen, the record stores, and all the other teenage hot spots, but Nicolette was never on the scene. Whatever Nicolette liked to do, Stephen gloomily concluded, it wasn't the same as other teenage girls. And, a couple of years passed, but his desire to know Nicolette grew. According to his best friend, he was going through a midlife crisis and his attraction to Nicolette was a manifestation of his desire to be young again. Maybe, Stephen had to admit, but all that psychobabble didn't make the erection that occurred when he thought about screwing Nicolette go away.
One rainy Saturday night in late May, Stephen was sitting alone in his Pocono retreat when he heard the unmistakable sounds a car crash, the squealing tires followed by the loud thud-like crash. Looking up from an endless stream of legal paperwork requiring his signature, Stephen contemplated going outside, but it was rainy and quite cold for late May. He turned back to business matters, dismissing the incident; however, his indifference toward the human condition was interrupted when the doorbell began to chime. Sighing, hoping the car crash victims weren't drunken backwoods meth-addicts, he got up from his late 1800s Victorian chair and answered the door.
A young woman with imperfect teeth and dripping red-brown hair stood before him. One of her arms was twisted in an unnatural manner. "I wiped out," she stammered, pale with freight and shivering from the cold rain. "Can I use your phone?"
"Yes, you may," Stephen emphasized the proper grammar, allowing the female entrance into his foyer. Then, he held up a hand, indicating that she was to proceed no further into his luxurious abode. He handed her a black cordless telephone.
After a brief conversation that Stephen easily ignored, the girl said, "My ride is gonna be a few minutes . . . Do you mind if I wait here? My car is totaled, and it's scary as hell in those woods."
Stephen looked out a window, longing desperately to deny her request. But, only a monster would banish an injured teenager into a cold, dark rainy night. "How long?"
"Not too long."
"Your arm is broken," Stephen said apathetically, nodding his head toward the injury.
The female paled a little more. "I was hoping that wasn't the case . . . Are you a doctor or something?"
After informing her that he was not a physician, Stephen offered the pest a towel, which she accepted and promptly began rubbing her hair. The smell of wet dog filled the air, and an unpleasant smile formed on Stephen's extraordinarily handsome face. Looking out the window again, he wondered how long he'd have to tolerate the guttersnipe breathing and polluting his air. The window picked up his image, reflecting a six-foot male with ebony hair in his mid 40s with brown eyes and manly features. Twice a week he played vigorous racquetball with a competitive business colleague and the activity kept him in peak physical condition.
Stephen passed the time until the ragamuffin's friend arrived attending to business matters. He set up shop in the foyer, but didn't offer the girl so much as a chair. She attempted conversation, but Stephen silenced her with a single, degrading look. From the outdated fashion to the well-worn sneakers, he dismissed her as poor, young, and probably not too bright. After some time, the front door began to jiggle, as though an intruder was attempting to gain unauthorized access into Stephen's high-security, technologically-advanced home. Then, a loud bang vibrated, and Stephen stood up. "Your friend doesn't seem to understand the concept of a doorbell," he drew cruelly.
And, when Stephen opened the door, there she was – Nicolette, in all her gothic beauty splendid wonder! For a moment, he just stared down at her. Up close, the eighteen year old's resemblance to his ex-girlfriend was even more startling. She was sporting a little pink denim sundress with thick shoulder straps that had probably not been purchased at Wal-Mart, and he guessed that the diamonds in her anklet were authentic. Beneath legs void of stockings, pink shoes with large silver strap buckles. Her pink fingernails were perfectly manicured. Around her neck was a pink choker that played up her childish sensuality. She was pink cotton candy and buckled shoes, and Stephen knew how wrong it was of him to feel so sexually attracted to her. His ex-girlfriend was a saint, and Stephen knew he should respect her daughter.
Without introduction or greeting, Nicolette flounced grandly into Stephen's home, taking in the foyer with a sweeping glance. "I know you. You're Stephen, the playboy billionaire that my mother dumped when she met my father!" She spoke loud, boisterously without making eye contact. To the ragamuffin, Nicolette said, "He's the pervert I told you about – you know, the guy that was mentally undressing me!"
While the other girl gave him eyes of blatant resentment, Stephen blushed like a teenager. But, Nicolette appeared to have other things on her beautiful mind. Walking to her friend, she picked up the injured limb and began examining it with a professional stance that baffled Stephen. Then, he remembered – how could he have forgotten – that her father had somehow managed to hook himself up with a pediatric degree. And her precious mother was a neurologist. Stephen didn't enjoy admitting that the guy he had been dumped for had, in reality, graduated from high school at the age of twelve! In Nicolette's hand was a very large black doctor's bag, and Stephen felt his stomach tightened with nervous tension. Perhaps the eighteen year old had inherited a genetic interest for medicine, but he didn't want any unlicensed medical procedures occurring in his home!
"I need a bottle of whisky," she told Stephen. "Do you have a bottle of whisky?"
"Uh . . . " Stephen debated on lying but found it impossible to lie to Nicolette, "Perhaps in the wine cellar."
"I'll go with you. Felicity, you come too." Nicolette spoke matter-of-factly, giving Stephen a slight push to get him started. Stephen couldn't decide if Nicolette's dominant demeanor excited or frightened him. As they passed the library, Nicolette stopped and motioned Felicity into that room.
"But . . ." Felicity looked extremely hurt, but Nicolette cruelly shoved the injured teenager into the room. Mouth opened with shock, Stephen watched the helpless Felicity stumble before catching her balance. Without another word of protest, Felicity sat on a sofa and stared sadly at the floor. The action caused Stephen's cock to become painfully hard, and he wondered if Nicolette was always so aggressive.
Stephen led the way down to the sophisticated wine cellar. Nicolette appeared in no hurry to help her friend, as she leisurely examined the 500 or so wine bottles in Stephen's collection. At one point, she leaned down and produced a bottle of Strub Riesling Eiswein, a German dessert wine. "I had a couple of sips of this at a wedding. I like this."
Stephen slid an etched crystal wine goblet from its resting-place overhead and poured alcohol for the minor. She swirled the wine in the glass, smelled the contents, then took a small sip, savoring the flavor. "Mmmm . . ." She smiled up at him, closed mouth. As she smiled, all her cruel dominance faded, and the beauty just defied explanation. All Stephen could do was look at her, his heart leaping up and down his chest cavity, and be thankful that she was in the flesh before him. It wasn't her youth captivating him. It was she, as she was at that moment, and what he already knew she'd eventually become, because his ex-girlfriend was aging incredibly well.
Watching him stare at her lovelorn changed Nicolette's expression. A corner of her mouth twisted up slightly in a sneer, as though she could read his thoughts and found him unworthy to even admire her beauty. It was insanity, the way she way made him feel. He knew that realistically his thoughts were private to all except him, perhaps unveiled slightly through unconscious means such as posture and voice tone. But, that wasn't how Nicolette made him feel. With her penetrating ebony eyes, she had him feeling completely exposed. "Come here." She moved, wine glass in hand, to the steps leading up from the wine cellar, standing two steps up from the bottom. When Stephen made movement to join her on the step, she instructed abrasively, "Stay at floor level." With the two step advantage, Nicolette was almost the same height as him, and Stephen thought how wise it was of her to have devised a plan to make conversation and, perhaps, kissing easier. Wrapping his arms around her, he moved in to her lips, but she turned away, revealing a graceful neck. "Touch me not, for I have not given you permission."
Her odd words terrified Stephen a little. She was young, he knew, and probably digested those period romance novels like candy. Still, for her to look so disdainful of him and speak in such a foreign manner made his heart pound uneasily, wondering exactly what was in his wine cellar. It had his ex-girlfriend's face but her head was as scrambled up as his own head. But, at least he understood his motivations. Nicolette turned back, her expression darker than he'd ever seen his ex-girlfriend's face, and reaching out, Nicolette placed a palm against the top of his head in a dominating manner. She pressed down on the palm. "Kneel before the person you want."
Wordlessly, Stephen got down on his knees and looked up at his teenaged owner. It was fitting that he was down on his knees before her because he was completely powerless in this relationship. Outside, in the world of foolish strangers, billionaire Stephen was the person in control, but not with this girl. She lifted a leg and nudged his shoulder, wordlessly instructing him to kiss her foot, and he promptly obeyed. The madness in her, reflecting itself out now, was something he found undeniably exciting. With his mouth pressed against her foot, a flash of movement and color caught his eye, and he looked up slightly to find Nicolette slowly pouring the wine down her leg. Stephen needed no instruction; he couldn't move fast enough to drink off from her body, loving her and loving it. At dominating, she seemed well versed, better than any one he had ever encountered. It wasn't until the last drop of her Strub Riesling Eiswein was lapped up that she lowered herself to sit on the steps above him. Her face was void of anger and very flushed. He could see up her skirt to where she hadn't placed panties. Lifting her skirt even higher, Nicolette gave Stephen a full view of her delicious-looking femaleness. A beautiful pink pussy, small and youthful. He couldn't remember the last time that he had seen a pussy that looked so unused. Her pubic hair had been professionally styled to just a single, ebony runway strip. The sight was so visually appealing that his cock began to throb painfully in its boxer shorts' prison.
"I love having my pussy eaten," Nicolette whispered urgently, thrusting her hips once invitingly, and Stephen needed no more urging. Reaching out with large, shaky hands, he slowly, tenderly messaged her clitoris. She groaned and wrapped long, slender fingers in his dark hair. Leaning down further, he pushed through her light pink labia with a probing tongue and found the most delicious pussy he had ever tasted.
"You taste unbelievable," he whispered against her moist interior, a hand still working the clit. Then, he pressed the tip of a finger into her, and Nicolette's tight vagina applied an almost painful amount of pressure. Lifting his head slightly, Stephen gave Nicolette a long look. She was tighter than most virgins were. Then, keeping one finger inside the beauty, he took a free hand and began working her clitoris again while watching Nicolette's face intently. Her eyes were closed and long dark eyelashes folded over her cheeks. Her expression was dreamlike, and Stephen thought that she looked like a serene marble statue. Then, her full, dewy lips opened slightly, and she whispered his name urgently and repeatedly. He began moving his finger deeper and deeper inside of Nicolette, as she drew closer to orgasm.
"Oh yes!" She thrust up, and liquid squirted around his finger, out of her. He felt her vagina constrict and release repeatedly in very quick successions. "Yes," she continued wildly, the spasms continuing while her hips bucked up again like some wild animal. "Yes! You're making me come, Stephen! You do it so well! Oh, how do you make me come so hard?" When she was through having multiple orgasms, Nicolette looked down at Stephen, while reaching down and pulling his finger out of her. "I've never urinated during cunnilingus before . . . " She seemed embarrassed and confused, her ebony eyes searching Stephen's face childishly.
"I've heard of it," Stephen explained gently, "but never seen it. And it's not urine, Nicolette, at least not entirely urine, from what I understand."
"I came hard," Nicolette whispered intimately. "Real hard."
Stephen moved to sit on the step with Nicolette, and they kissed deeply, lovingly. Nicolette darted her tongue in and out, mimicking the actions of eating pussy. Sighing, Stephen moved his mouth away and slowly back repeatedly, gradually increasing the pressure of his lips on her each time their lips made contact. Nicolette moaned the pleasure she found in this, and wrapped her arms around him. She whispered his name and opened her eyes to stare lovelorn at him. Stephen's heart was pounding fast, and he held her head steady for a deep, tongue-probing kiss. It was blatantly obvious that a female had schooled her in kissing, probably in sex as well, and Stephen was going to have to re-train Nicolette and show her the benefits of heterosexuality. Based on how much she had enjoyed his cunnilingus, Stephen doubted she was a lesbian or even bisexual. Some female had just beaten him to corrupting her.
"I want you," he whispered against her ear. "I want inside you."
Nicolette moved away then, her dark eyes filled with passion. "Felicity," she whispered hotly, standing. "I have to tend to Felicity."
Felicity wasn't on your mind when you wanted to get off, Stephen thought acidly, and he followed Nicolette back upstairs and into the library. Felicity was obediently sitting where Nicolette had left her, on the comfortable floral sofa, but tears were running unchecked down her face. She lifted her head when Nicolette came into the room with a bottle of Jack Daniel's whisky.
"I missed you," she whined tearfully, seemingly more upset that Nicolette had temporarily abandoned her than the broken limb.
Stephen watched Nicolette produce a small vial of prescription pills from the black physician's bag. Without uttering a word, the gothic doctor twisted a cap off the bottle and produced a pill that Felicity wordless accepted without question. At Nicolette's silent urging the other girl washed the pill down with Jack Daniel's whisky. Stephen's heart pounded fearfully. If something happened to this white trash Felicity, it would happen in his home! He didn't know Felicity's age, although next to Nicolette she looked much older than his initial assessment. Anyone under the age of 25 looked like a baby to him, so Felicity was probably much older than his initial impression.
"You shouldn't combine prescription medications and alcohol." Stephen spoke the voice of reason.
"Shut up." Nicolette turned and gave Stephen a threatening look. More than a little afraid of her, Stephen said no more about it. He sat at the opposite end of the sofa and watched the two females intently. Nicolette encouraged Felicity to take several sips off the whisky bottle. Then, she admonished the injured girl; "You're wet. Why are you wet?"
"It was raining," Felicity explained sadly.
"Well, it's not raining now, and it's not raining in here!" Nicolette's acid tongue was like a whip slashing the other girl, and Nicolette slipped Felicity's shirt over her head. "Help me undress her, Stephen. She's soaked."
With a disgusted expression, Stephen leaned down and removed Felicity's shoes and socks. "This girl smells like wet dog." He almost gagged at the smell of her.
Slapping her friend non-violently across the face, Nicolette demanded in a tone without anger, "Why do you smell like wet dog?" She slapped Felicity repeatedly. "Huh? Huh?" To Stephen's surprise, Nicolette had removed Felicity bra. The sight of Felicity's small tits with disproportionately large nipples caused Stephen's erection to fail slightly.
"I'm sorry," Felicity replied, spreading her legs slightly in obvious arousal, and Nicolette moved between them. She slapped her friend repeatedly across the face in a gentle, methodical way.
"Yeah?" Nicolette whispered cruelly. "Are you sorry . . . hmmm? Are you?" Then, Nicolette reached down and grabbed a hold of Felicity's hair, forcing her head up. "How do you feel? Are you feeling loose?" Felicity nodded, and Nicolette's face turned up with a sadistic sneer. "You know, Felicity, I may have Stephen fuck you."
"No!" Felicity voiced the words that screamed through Stephen's head. He would rather have little people tap dance on his balls than stick his cock inside that stinky piece of trailer trash! Nicolette laughed sadistically, running a manicured hand across Felicity's face in a bizarre, controlling way that Stephen found unbelievably erotic. Sticking each of her pink polished fingers into her friend's mouth one by one, Nicolette looked at Felicity in a face void of emotion.