tagLesbian SexThis Could Get Interesting Ch. 05

This Could Get Interesting Ch. 05


I'm so full. A deep, probing cock reaches all the way inside of me and pulls out. Painfully slowly. My eyes are closed and I'm savoring every thrust. I run my fingers through my hair and moan softly, approvingly. My mouth opens and I feel hot breath on my lips.

I arch upward for the lips that hover so close to mine and - when met - something is different. I open my eyes and a strange man is on top of me. I reach up for his arms and feel the broad shoulders and muscles flexing. I grip tightly and meet his thrusts, letting him take me. I throw my head back and start to squeeze my pussy tightly around him. He's throbbing. I feel every movement.

My face is hot and I'm about to let go when I open my eyes again and my plane is landing in New York. I sit up and feel my cheeks; red hot. Maggie is sleeping beside me and I try to calm down before she wakes.

The plane slows to a stop and she stirs, smiling at me sleepily.

I touch her cheek, "We're here, baby. We made it,"

She sits up and stretches. We make our way off the plane and over to baggage claim. We stand waiting for our bags an watch the same luggage make the rounds three times.

"What the fuck?" I start to panic.

Maggie puts a hand on my arm and points to a man standing by our suitcases and holding a sign that says my name. My mouth drops open.

The man escorts us to a black SUV and places our things in the back. We ride for a short time and pull up in front of our hotel. It's magnificent. The lobby is pristine and a smaller gentleman runs over to retrieve our bags. The man at the front desk hands me an envelope with my name in gold on the front. It contains our room keys, a room service menu, some hotel rules and guidelines, and another envelope.

As we board the elevator to the 16th floor, Maggie pokes her head out, "Is that Robert Downey Jr.?"

The doors close and when they open again, there is one door in front of us. 1600 is in golden letters on the door and when we open it, Maggie gasps. The room looks over Manhattan with grand, sweeping views. Intricate details down to cherubs on the coffee table are peppered throughout the suite.

Double doors open into a kitchen with granite and stainless steel, and a set of doors on the other side of the room reveal a gigantic bed, a spa-sized tub, and a balcony that is almost as big as my bedroom at home.

I. Am. Stunned.

Maggie is running about opening cabinets and looking off the balcony. She runs and flops on the bed, giggling. I walk to the kitchen for a glass of water and opening the fridge I find bottles of S. Pellegrino water, juices, milk, chilling wine. It's too much. It's far too much.

Maggie runs in behind me and grabs a bottle of wine.

"Don't open that!"

She looks at me in shock, "And why not?"

"Because, Maggie, look at this place,"

She looks around and back at me, "It's beyond,"

"It's way, way, WAY too much. This is either a mistake, or something else is going on. I'll need to speak to Mr. Vaughn before we can enjoy anything in here," Maggie pouts when I take the wine from her and put it back in the fridge.

We stare at each other for a moment and both startle when the old-timey phone rings.

"Hello?" I answer warily.

"Audrey, hello,"

His voice is silky. Soft. His English accent is seductive and sweet.

"I do hope your accommodations are satisfactory," he purrs. I can hear him smiling.

"Mr. Vaughn, everything is lovely,"

"Audrey, please call me Peter. Or Pete, if you prefer. Just never Mr. Vaughn,"

I'm slightly irritated at this extravagant gesture, "OK, Pete, this room is exquisite and I'm quite charmed, but I can't accept all of this,"

"Audrey, I'll make you a deal. If you don't feel you deserve to stay there after a week with me, I'll find you something a little more... quaint. However, I don't think you quite grasp the amount of time you'll have to see my face. You'll barely be spending any time in that exquisite room of yours. Also, it's less than a block from my studio and I'll need you quite close,"

I don't even know what to say. I look to Maggie and she is holding the wine again. I nod at her and she pops it open.

"Audrey, please report to my studio tomorrow at 11am, sharp. We'll go over some of your work, have a lunch, and get down to it,"

"See you then, Pete,"

"And... call me Peter," he hangs up.

Maggie and I find assorted cheeses and meats in the fridge and share a plate with a bottle of wine. We watch the sun set together from the balcony and Maggie makes slow love to me on our giant bed. And in the tub. And in the shower. And on the balcony.


The phone rings out and wakes me from a very pleasant dream, "Hello?" I answer groggily.

"Ma'am, this is your wake up call,"

I look at the clock, "It's 8 o'clock,"

"Mr. Vaughn's request," the voice says.

"Call him Peter," I mumble, hanging up.

Maggie is sleeping peacefully and I get out of bed carefully. A knock at the door startles me, "Who is it?" I scramble for my plushy hotel robe.

"Room service,"

I open the door and a man pushes a cart into the room and leaves without a word. I lift the silver lids off of the different platters to find fresh fruit, oatmeal, waffle, bacon, sausage... and then a note.

Welcome to New York. You'll need a big breakfast to keep up with me.


I shake my head and shove a giant piece of pineapple in my mouth. I glance down and notice chilled beverages sitting in the bottom of the tray. Bloody Mary fixings. Champagne. Orange juice.

"This guy," I laugh and take a sausage link.

"Whoa!" Maggie laughs behind me.

"Courtesy of Peter Vaughn," I wave my hands in front of the giant spread.

"Vaughn sure knows how to treat a lady," she takes a piece of bacon.

Maggie and I snack on the tray for about an hour. Now, what to wear to the first big day. I model some outfits for Maggie, but she prefers me naked.

I find that a pair of dark blue jeans, a white t-shirt, and my pashmina scarf will do nicely. I arrive at Peter's studio at 10 to noon. The outside of the building leaves something to be desired, but once I'm buzzed into the studio, it's a completely different world. Tall white walls splattered with paint here and there. Head shots of beautiful people everywhere. Scantily clad women in makeup chairs. A camera around the neck of everyone who isn't a model.

"Are you lost?"

I turn around to see a tall, thin woman with long brown hair wearing some designer, hands on her hips.

"I'm here to see Peter Vaughn," I say, less coolly than I mean to.

She rolls her eyes, "Peter!" She shouts and walks away.

"Thanks," I fidget with my camera strap.

It occurs to me now that I've never seen what he looks like. A short, stocky man in a suit walks out of an office door and I prepare to shake his hand. He blows past me. A much taller man emerges from the same door. He's wearing jeans with a hole in one knee and a green button down that is open enough to see chest hair.

His hair is salt and pepper and flops over his forehead just above his sparkling blue eyes. I wish that was Peter.

He walks toward me and - feeling shy from being left hanging a moment ago - I stand there like an idiot.

"Audrey," he says with a warm smile. He extends a hand to me and I continue standing there like a complete buffoon.

Finally, I give him a firm hand shake, "Hello, Peter,"

He playfully shakes his hand when I let go, "Quite an iron grip you have there,"

He steps back, looking me up and down, "Why have I never seen you in front of a camera?"


"Look at you. You're stunning. More lovely than your photos ever told."

"What photos?" I am suddenly back in my body.

"I'm a terrible Googler,"

"You Googled me?"

He laughs an alarmingly cute chuckle and flashes me the whitest crooked-toothed smile I've ever seen. I melt a little.

"Let me show you the studio,"

He takes me through his office to a giant wall of floor to ceiling windows. Women and men parade around nude, photographers shout at models and assistants, and the entire space smells of coffee. We go into the green screen room where a commercial is being filmed. It's all quite glamorous.

"So, all of these people work for you?"

He laughs again. God. "No, no. This studio belongs to me, and people pay me to shoot here. A lot of them rent the space, but some of them do work for me,"

"It's a beautiful space. Stunning,"

"Made only moreso by your presence here. Lets get a bite to eat, shall we?"

Peter and I make our way to a small cafe on the corner and he tells me that he studied in London but never actually finished college. He sent samples of his work to different companies all over the world and in the end, found an investor and built his own company.

VMF quickly became recognized for the consistently fantastic work it turned out and they got into the studio when the getting was good. The rest, he says, is history.

We return to the studio and he briefs me on a couple of projects that need wrapping up before the end of the week. It doesn't seem like enough time, but he makes me feel confident.

We film a woman - the same type I've dealt with many times - in various poses with a giant green cutout that will look like a perfume bottle when it's all said and done. We move on to a man wearing undies. He's got an apple on his head and a woman stands off to the side with a bow and arrow, aiming at his heart and not the apple.

Several short shoots like this one and we begin reviewing what we've captured. The lights of the city catch my attention out the floor to ceiling windows and it occurs to me that we've been here for hours. Peter gives no impression that we'll be leaving anytime soon.

"Do you mind if I make a quick phone all?" I wave my phone at him.

He shakes his head and lights a cigarette.

I walk over by the windows and call Maggie.

"Hello, darling," she sounds cheery.

"Hello to you! What have you been up to today?"

"Well, I slept pretty late today. Then I had some tea. You should see the tea setup here!"

I notice Peter looking at me and I tell Maggie I'll be home soon.

"Checking in?"

I blush, "Busted,"

"I was told you requested a companion. Boyfriend? Husband? Lover?"

I scoff at his audacity, but don't have the courage to tell the truth, "Partner," I'm suddenly shy.

"Come, have one drink with me and then you can go,"

Peter and I have a whiskey, neat. And then another. Astonishingly, the clock reads 2:44a when I check it. Peter is laying on the floor and I've gotten unexpectedly comfortable in my chair.

"I have to go," I jump up.

"Let me walk you,"

We walk down the street to the hotel, "Thanks for walking me,"

"Great first day, kid. You're gonna do amazing things,"

"Kid? How old do you think I am"

He steps a little closer, "How old do you think I am?"

I have no idea, "30?"

He throws his head back, laughing, "I'll be 42 next month,"

He's 14 years older than me? Damn.

"You wear it well. Goodnight,"

He puts a hand on my arm, "Goodnight," he leans in and I close my eyes, letting my lips open softly. A light cheek kiss leaves me lingering in the air and when I open my eyes he's smiling at me.

I give him a tight smile in return and run inside. I'm suddenly incredibly guilty for something that never happened. But I would've let it. Which is just as bad. I open the door quietly to find Maggie sound asleep on the sofa. I lean down and kiss her forehead. Her eyes open slowly and she smiles when she sees me.

"Hey there, gorgeous," I say.

"Have you been drinking?" She sits up.

"I had one or two. Lets get in bed, hm?"

We climb under the Egyptian cotton sheets and instead of our usual routine of several hours of sex and foreplay, I hold her close and we both fall asleep right away.


It's the end of my first full week with VMF and Peter is giving me the weekend off. We put in nearly 80 hours in the last 6 days. Forty of those hours spent just staring at footage and photos on a monitor. I'm completely exhausted when I leave the studio on Friday night.

When I arrive home, Maggie is nowhere to be seen. I find a note.

Went out. Back later.


I know she's frustrated that she hasn't seen me all week. I'm frustrated too. But the fact that we are staying in this lavish suite is largely due to the fact that Peter Vaughn has afforded us all of it. I get in bed and pick up my book. I'm about 10 pages in when I hear the door open and slam shut. Maggie is singing to herself. She walks into the doorway and sees me. And she's shitfaced.

"Oh Jesus. There's a sexy stranger in my bed," she slurs at me.

"Wow. You really tied one on, huh?"

She smiles at me and runs over to the bed, hopping on top of me and straddling my waist. She leans down to kiss me and I pull away from her breath. Cigarettes, tequila, and probably something with a lot of garlic.

"Where did yo--"

She puts a finger on my lips, "I need you," she hisses, kissing my neck with wet, sloppy kisses.

"Maggie, darling, I have the whole weekend off. Why don't you get some sleep and we can do this all day tomorrow?" I try to deter her. No dice.

"No, I need to have you. I want you," she slides down my body and bites at my thighs. She lays her head down on my inner thigh and lazily licks at my crotch. When the movement stops, I hear light snoring. I help her out of her clothes and put her under the covers.

When I can't sleep, I look for a bottle of wine. Chardonnay, I think. I make my way through half a glass before I'm dozing on the couch.


When I wake up, Maggie is humming to herself as she cooks something on the stove. It smells incredible. The clock says it's 11:48a. Wow. I slept great.

I get off the couch and walk up behind her, kissing her shoulders. She puts her hands over mine and hums approvingly.

A knock at the door interrupts our romance. An envelope slides under the door and when I look through the peephole, nobody is there.

I open the envelope and two tickets to the Museum fall out along with a note.

Something to do on your day off?


"What is it?" Maggie waves her spatula at me.

"Wanna go to the museum? It's on Peter!" I laugh.

Maggie raises and eyebrow.


"I think that Peter Vaughn is sweet on you," she wags the spatula at me.

"He's definitely not. Let's eat and then go. Want to?"

She smiles and nods excitedly.

We get to the museum and it looks pretty closed. We are confused and approach the main entrance. A man with a tray carrying champagne greets us, "Are you guests of Mr. Vaughn?"

"Uh, yes?" I had no idea this was his thing.

We walk into the museum and in a private room there are photos taken from his studio all over. People are dressed in fancy clothes. I'm relieved I wore a pale pink maxi dress and jeweled sandals. Maggie and I sip our champagne and make our way around the room. On a far wall, under a dim light, is a photo that I took only days ago. It's gigantic and looks stunning and I only know it's mine because Maggie jumps up and down when she sees my name on a small sign underneath.

"I hope that's alright," Peter's voice comes from behind us.

I spin around and Peter takes and kisses my hand. He looks to Maggie, "And who is this vision?"

"Maggie, this is Peter Vaughn. Peter, my, uh..."

"Girlfriend," she smiles and extends a hand. They shake and Peter stares at me all the while.

Peter and I talk awhile and Maggie - being the social butterfly she is - makes the rounds. I see her take a glass of champagne, drink it down, and come my way.

"Excuse us a moment, won't you, Peter?" She takes me to the bathroom and locks the door.

"Are you OK?" I ask her as she pushes me down on a small bench.

She doesn't say a word and just kisses me. Hard.

"Okay, we can't do this here," I try to get up and she straddles my lap. She kisses me again and I give in. Her lips are impossibly soft and her tongue glides across mine so sweetly. She tastes like champagne and chocolate covered strawberries.

She takes a breast in each hand and massages, pinching my nipples ever so gently. I put my head back and she trails kisses down my neck and across my chest. I pull her sleeveless dress down and take a hard nipple into my mouth.

She watches me intently and then returns the favor. She stands in front of me and kneels down, lifting my dress off the ground and up over my hips.

I can feel my pussy getting nice and wet for her and it's ready when she slides two fingers inside. A moan jumps from my throat and my hips buck forward.

Her lips envelope the fabric still covering my clitoris and the heat of her mouth makes me swell beneath her. She shakes her head from side to side while stroking my g-spot.

Someone pulls on the door and I jump, pushing her head away. But she won't stop. And I'm so close to cumming that I don't want her to. The door rattles again and I can hear a woman outside.

"Just... just a minute," I call out in a breathy, raspy voice. "Please!" I shout, only that time I'm talking to Maggie.

Moments later I'm getting my juices all over her fingers. I can feel my cunt gripping hard around her and I grasp at the bench for stability. She takes her fingers out and licks them thoroughly before putting them in my mouth.

We wash out hands and Maggie unlocks the door. I know it probably smells of sex, so I spray the air freshener. The woman outside the door glares at us and we look at each other and giggle.

Back on the floor, Peter glances at us emerging from the bathroom. I see her looking at Peter and wiping her lips with her finger. He looks at me before disappearing into the crowd.

"I saw that," I tell her.

She shrugs and we make our way home. I know that Peter saw it, too. Is Maggie jealous? In any case, this should make for a very interesting Monday morning.

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