The Sweet Shoppe

(Continued from Maria  and also continuing the Party Interruptus storyline).

Duke stood on the stoop of “Monello’s Decadent Delicacies” for a moment to gather himself. The front of the shop was dark and deserted but light from the bright kitchen leaked forward from the porthole in the swinging door and the service window. He shook his head hard twice and windmilled his arms gulping deep breaths. It was an exercise he’d learned in college theater to clear himself-to get in character. He was the angry client in Maria’s little drama.

The door was locked so he twisted the knob on the old-fashioned chime. Maria’s face instantly appeared in the service window then disappeared again. The door swung open as she hustled out front. He watched impatiently tapping his toe on the concrete as she clumsily unlocked the door with what looked to be shaking hands.  She kept her hair short on the sides and he focused on the soft white skin at the side of her neck, just below her ear. He imagined the touch of the soft downy hair and the whisper of citrus that she always wore underlying the fecund aroma of dough and yeast that had to be wafting up and out of her t-shirt. Jesus, he thought. This was why Beth had warned him not to diddle…er, dawdle too long.

She finally got the door open with a jerk and stepped back startled and apologetic.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Barton…”

“Maria-you know this is unacceptable”, he said sternly stepping inside and closing the door behind him.

“I know, sir…”

“There are two dozen guests at the house right now-everything is prepared except for the what you were supposed to bring!”

She backed toward the kitchen slowly with Duke keeping pace. “Yes sir, I’m sorry.”

“That’s bad enough, but then I have to leave my own party to come and help you make a delivery. Where is Shea?”

“She had other commitments, Mr. Barton, so I let her off early.”

“Other commitments?! This, today is a pretty important commitment!”

“Yes, I know. This is my fault. I misjudged. But look!” she pushed open the door behind her. “Everything is done. I finished up just as you got here.”

“I should be happy now that you’re only an hour late?”

“No sir. Of course not sir.”

“Help me to the car with these.”

She picked up a tray of bright red candied apples and fairly scurried through the shop. He took the caramel and nut. Two trips and all that was left was a tray of petite fours. He followed her back into the kitchen keeping his eyes on the perfect inverted heart of her backside wrapped tightly in stone washed denim. She had to be wiggling more than necessary, every hurried step in a perfect heel to toe line.

“The last one!”, she said waving her hand in a nervous flourish.

He bared glanced at it, choosing instead to catch her eyes in his angry glare. She coughed slightly and looked away as he deliberately unbuttoned the sleeve of his khaki shirt. He rolled it up his forearm. “I’m going to teach you a little lesson about punctuality Maria.”

“Awww, come on Mr. Barton.” she pleaded, again trying to back away from him. “Please don’t. Not here.”

“You turn around young lady…”

“Mr. Barton, I….”

“You turn around right now!”

She did so reluctantly-hiding her face with her hands.

“Stick your bottom out”, he ordered.

She pouted and pushed back slightly. He slapped her hard on the jeans finding the jarring contact of the firm yet giving mound very satisfying. She jumped with a high pitched “OUCH!”

“Do you like that, Maria?”

“No sir!”

“Stick it out a little further.  And put your hands on your thighs.”

“Oh sir…” but she did as she was told. He grabbed the beltline of her jeans and pulled them higher tightening even more the fabric that encased her bottom. Maria gasped as the pulled seam buried itself inside of her setting off wild alarms up her spine and down her legs. Her heart raced-did he know what he was doing to her? She wriggled as he slapped and lifted in perfect rhythm. Of course he knew what he was doing, she thought between gasps. She danced on her tiptoes, the swats on her bottom having a shadow of the effect to the rubbing in her crotch.

“Maria, I don’t feel I’m making a good enough impression on you.”

“Oh sir”, she said breathlessly. “You are….”

“No, I don’t think so…” He released her jeans and placed his hand around the back of her neck-not squeezing but definitely leading her forward to her work table, still dusted with flour, wisps of dough and dabs of strawberry jam.

“Bend over here…”

“Sir…I…”

“Bend!” he pushed her gently over until her hands, then her elbows then finally her breasts contacted the hard wood. Pressing on her back he reached around and unsnapped her jeans roughly pulling them down over one hip, then the other, exposing her wide firm bottom blooming slightly pink by his attentions.

Gently, but not too, he reached between her legs and peeled the damp seam from inside of her swollen lips. She gasped lightly and pushed back into his hand. Her clit could not have been harder had it been forged. Each light touch brought a tiny spasm from her mounded backside. He pulled his hand away and dipped three fingers in the bowl of strawberry preserves that she used for the pastries and jammed a dollop between her legs imagining steam rising from the cool jam spattering into her hot folds.

“Oh God, Oh God…Duke!” she reacted.

He slapped across her wide bum leaving red slashes of jam like talon scars. “What did you call me?”

“Mr. Barton! Mr. Barton! I’m sorry…I’m sorry. “

He pressed more heavily on her back lifting her milky bottom higher. He spanked her rounded cheeks and the tops of her thighs, splattering strawberry speckles and streaks to accent the softer pink handprints. He paused for more jam and reached lewdly between her legs careful to rub the inside of both thighs. She rose onto her toes trapping his hand in her pearly vice.

He flicked quickly, then rubbed, his finger slithering into her easily, her juices married with the preserves.  Her feet left the floor altogether as she gripped the edge drawing herself across the table. Duke’s hand was stuck fast, nothing but his fingers free to move, twiddle and rub. Her growl turned into a squeal as she opened herself to whatever happened back there.

She stiffened as she came, her legs drawn up and Duke’s relentless fingering turning her momentarily into quivering, squirting stone. His stroke slowed as she subsided; all the pert tension in her body dissipated revealing soft curves and sweet milky dimples. As her breath returned he slipped his hand back into the jam and spread her backside filling her crevasse and coating her tight little asshole with strawberry filling.

He playfully squeezed her cheeks together before dropping to his knees and spreading her again, licking from bottom to top as she kicked her toes. “Jesus Christ, Duke. I’m killed…” she sighed relaxing back onto her feet.

“You always had a sweet ass”, he said getting up.

“Will you give me a kiss?”

“Sure.” He bent and smooched her bottom cheek loudly.

“No, up here. On the mouth.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Too familiar”, her voice was sleepy, smiling.

“Exactly. Now, get yourself cleaned up and get over there. No later than nine. Many people are dying to show how disappointed they are with you.”

“You’re not are you?”

He bent and patted her butt once more, deigning to kiss the back of her neck.

“Never love. Never.”

He left her spread and sticky across the work table and carried the last tray of petite fours. As he was getting into his SUV his phone pinged a text.

 

(To be continued…)

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Party Interruptus

(Continued from Maria)

They took the road easily, with the moon roof open to better view the graying sky that revealed itself more every night as the leaves fell. Also, so Chelsea’s dope smoke could dissipate easily into the dusk. To be fair, it was her dope but they all were partaking. Him less, but still….

As zombies went they were definitely sexy, both careful to apply makeup that accented their looks-cheek bones for Chelsea, those goddam eyes for Gennie. They were also wearing special panties he had bought them anticipating an unveiling sometime in the evening. Gennie’s said simply “Spank Me” and Chelsea’s, “I need a good spanking.” Chels laughed and took them in good humor but didn’t model them as he’d hoped. Gennie was still a little standoffish-hesitant-nervous, though she looked great in them. Hard-on great.

At their prodding and wheedling he had broken down and put on the sheriff’s costume from a few years ago pleased that it still fit. He had a tiny pang remembering that his wife had accompanied him in cuffs and a striped jumpsuit which opened in the back for when she misbehaved. Which she often did. He toked deeper when the joint reached him this time. Linda was popping into his thoughts more and more lately.

As they rounded the last turn before Duke’s place, he saw a light swinging at the head of the driveway. He slowed. Valet parking maybe? The guy was standing at the top of the drive effectively blocking him from leaving the road. He slid the window down and leaned over Gennie.

“Heading into the party”, he explained.

“No party here”, the guy answered.

“Really? I thought there was.”

“Cancelled”, he said looking closely into the car.

“Huh! I hope everything’s alright”, both girls noticed his voice was different. Lighter and a bit breathy.

“I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“I just heard about this on Facebook. Seemed like a fun thing. Don’t get out to his part of the county often. Easy to get turned around I guess…”

“Yeah, well, you got the wrong place.”

“Which is it?”

“What?”

“Cancelled or the wrong place?”

“Tell you what there, cowboy”, they guy growled leaning forward. “Might be a good time to ride on.” He pulled his jacket aside just enough to show a pistol in his belt.

“Oh Jesus pal!”, he flustered, almost sliding into a falsetto.  “Not looking for any trouble…” He hit the gas and popped ahead, around the next bend watching the rear-view more than the road.

“What’s going on?” asked Gennie.

The road switched back then slipped over a slight hill so they couldn’t be seen but he shut the lights anyway before slowing and turning onto a hard-packed dirt road that you had to know was there.

“You kids wearing sensible shoes?” he asked scanning the woods off to the right.

“We’re good”, answered Chelsea.

“What’s going on?” Gen repeated.

“Not sure.”

“You gonna call 911?” she asked.

He had stopped in the middle of the road and turned the car off. They listened to the ticking of the engine and felt the closeness of the trees on both sides. Without a word he opened the door after switching off the interior lights. He popped the console and grabbed his pistol without taking his eyes off the woods and field ahead.

“What’s that?” asked Gennie, unnecessarily.

Even wrapped in the clip-on holster Chelsea recognized it. “Sig Nine”, she said simply.

Without answering he cut his glance her way and squinted quickly-as if trying to see something in the shadows behind her eyes. She didn’t waver. He clipped the gun onto his belt.

“You gonna call 911?” Gennie repeated in a harsh whisper.

“Shhhh!” Chelsea hissed just as urgently. They gathered behind the car where he popped the trunk.  He took out a small fold-up digging tool and a handed it to Chelsea.

“We can take the poles I made for the leashes. They could be weapons.”

He closed the trunk with a silent click. “We’ll be OK for weapons”, he said leading the way into the woods.

(Continues…)

The Halloween Party

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(Continued from Chelsea – 6)

He didn’t know how they would react to being invited to the Barton’s Halloween party. He and Linda had been there since the beginning and there was of course some concern about how his new budding harem might mix. It wasn’t a concern shared by the group; Beth and Duke wanted them there and they were like fifth graders-excited at the prospect of getting out with others. He made a note to himself: they are young vibrant women for whom a comfortable existence, no matter how well-spiced, could slip into boredom now and again.

“It will be outside-around the fire and the mantle we delivered. There will be tents if it rains, but strange as the weather’s been….”

“Will be any singles there?” asked Chelsea. “My flavor?”

“That won’t be a problem. They typically draw an interesting mix.”

“I want to be a nurse!” Gennie piped up. “Maybe a vampire nurse but sexy.”

“That would work, but you realize,” he drawled, “that any nurse showing up at this party better have an ample supply of latex gloves and thermometers.  Not the ones that go under your tongue, either.”

“Really?” said Gennie, the enthusiasm dipping a tad.

“Dude, even I figured that out”, Chelsea deadpanned.

“How about a vampire witch then? A sexy vampire witch?”

“You don’t need to be a vampire witch” said Chelsea. “Either one works. How ‘bout you be a witch, I’ll be a vamp…or a zombie. A zombie. Yeah, that’s it.”

“You”, Gen looked at him. What will you be?”

“I’ll be….me.”

“No costume?” they both said, sounding disappointed.

“You will be my costume. Once you settle on what you’re going as, I’ll fit you into harnesses…or choke collars and leashes. I’ll have each of you on an arm.”

“Oooo…” said Chelsea getting it. “Like Michonne.”

“Michonne?” Gen asked.

“Walking Dead. In season two when we first meet Michonne she has these two walkers on leashes as camouflage. Real bad ass! That’s it. We’ll be walkers. I got this idea…kind of wooden leashes-nooses at the end of poles…so we can’t turn on him. I can make those!”

“Sexy walkers!” yapped Gennie.

“Again with the sexy. I’m the one looking for someone, not you…And you” she pointed at him, “can be Michonne.”

“Sure, why not? Other than the woman/man thing, the black/white thing, the badass…not, thing, the dreads…I’m a spitting image.”

“I can’t even believe you know who Michonne is.”

“You brats. I’m older than you but not by THAT much.”

“Come on”, Chelsea enthused “….let’s work on these.”

“Hey girls, I gotta warn you though.”

Pulling up short, “What?”

“You’ll be rookies at this party.”

“Uh huh…”

“There will be games.”

“What kind of games?”

“Where the losers get spanked.”

“Jeeze…”, said Gennie.

“And you will lose.”

“Jeeze…”, again.

“Public spankings huh?”, asked Chelsea. “How many people?”

“No more than thirty. Unless there’s forty. Mixed bag-all genders, flavors, dispositions and predilections.

“Hmmm…” Chelsea said obviously more comfortable with the possibility than Gennie, then, “Hey is my butt still bruised?”

“I’m sure I don’t know.”

Quickly, she turned and unzipped her pants. “Chelsea!”, Gennie cried knowing what was coming. She pushed her pants and underwear down at once-further than she really needed to.

It hadn’t taken long for him and Chelsea to understand where they were coming from. Intellectually he knew there would be nothing between them physically even if Gennie wasn’t in the picture. Unfortunately, his cock wasn’t an intellectual and strained-just that quickly-against his own fly.

“That might be a bruise,” he said. “It’s hard to tell. Come back here and let me see if I can rub it off…”

“Put that thing away Chelsea. Dad’s getting all hard and bothered.”

Her pants were already up and she was tucking her shirt in. “I think the phrase is ‘hot and bothered.’”

“Not if you’re looking from this angle.”

Chelsea grabbed the wine. “We’re taking this out to the shop.”

“That’s fine. Leave the table, leave me with the mess as long as someone gets me a cognac.” He left it open to see who would. Gennie, suddenly excited about the Halloween party was sketching on a napkin and he wasn’t sure she’d heard him. Chelsea glided to the sideboard and poured.

He followed them as far as the porch and watched them almost skipping across the yard to the work shop. He sat and kicked his feet up.

In his life he’d made four fortunes and lost three, glided through some misspent summers in a misspent youth backpacking through Europe, been married for two weeks in France and for a decade for real, but had never had a time like this last few weeks. His level of happiness-which he hid as completely as he would any other emotion-made him nervous somehow. The cognac warmed him and, as he watched their shadows through the windows, he really cared not a whit about the mess in the kitchen.

(Continuing…)

 

Chelsea – 2

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Perchenonso.tumblr.com

(Continued from Chelsea)

The sliver of moon had slipped past the window, leaving only a dull gray glow over the room. Gennie roused beside him with a snuffle and rolled into his chest. He slipped his arm behind her head to make a space to snuggle.

“You awake?” he whispered.

She murmured something that could have been yes, no or maybe so. He settled back into his pillow happy to close his eyes and let sleep take him back down. Until he felt her hand slide over his thigh. It fell there not by chance but with a purpose, moving slowly up to his cock which, more awake than he, rose eagerly to meet her. She took him in hand slowly feeling him grow. He rolled toward her gently pushing her over with his shoulder.

He licked at her neck then left his tongue’s glistening trail down her body following the receding blanket. Full of her heady night smell he added his tongue to her own lubrication. She responded with a soft moan and drew her legs to her chest. In the quiet almost clandestine manner of midnight sex he pushed her further backward and slid into her all at once and completely, answered by a hiss rather than a daylight moan.

“Try to be quiet”, she said folded up on herself.

“Why?” he asked, sliding out then back in wet, easy motion.

“I feel bad. Chelsea doesn’t have anyone right now.” He kissed her lightly, for a moment taken by her sweetness and consideration. Then his kisses became deeper, harder mimicking the push of his cock into her. She thought she was being quiet-would have liked to have been quieter, she truly would have. She whimpered into his shoulder, biting instead of moaning…she was doing the best she could.

In her room, where the moon still shone brightly, Chelsea rolled onto her side. Their lovemaking hadn’t awakened her, but she was awake, if barely. Eyes closed she slipped her hand into the loose waist band of the cut off sweats she wore for pajamas. She drew her legs up and found herself easily in the damp folds. Exhaling softly, she rubbed gently to the rhythms coming from down the hall.

Continuing…

The Norwegians – Part 5

 

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(Continued from The Norwegians-Part 4)

The late afternoon sun blasting through the window wall would be incinerating them like vampires caught outside at high noon had Angie not pressed a button on a remote that brought dark blinds a quarter way down.  Jess would have been surprisingly content to have whiled away the evening in the huge bed her cheeks and lips washed with the sweet saltiness that she had tasted for the first time an hour ago.

But this was good-nestled on the couch facing the city-seeing it sideways from where she lay with her head in Angie’s naked lap. She turned slightly to look up-past Angie’s breasts to meet her blue eyes. She was about to speak when Angie pressed a finger down on her lips.

“Shhhhh…”

She rolled her head back to the window and let her mind wind back to the bedroom. After she had come and come and come…she lay spent on her side and placed her hand on the back of Angie’s who was sliding a finger between her own legs. She saw Angie’s small smile as she felt Jess’ hand atop her own. She came up to her elbow and kissed the blonde’s soft belly. The smile widened. Then wider still as she kissed a little lower.  They both knew where she was headed.

“Do you want to….?” Angie asked quietly.

“I definitely want to…”

“Do you know how?” she whispered through a smile.

“I’ll figure it out…”

Angie settled back as Jess scootched up on her elbows slipping her head between Angie’s taut, damp thighs. “Kiss me there-inside my leg” Angie hissed. She did, feeling the skin-and muscle under it-quiver gently.

“Oh my…” she breathed. “Just do what I did. Run your tongue up…”

“Shhhhh…” Jess hissed sweetly reaching up to pinch Angie’s bum gently.

“Yes Ma’am”. She flopped her head back-finished with the directions.

“Ma’am” resonated somewhere in Jess’ core. She flashed to the spanking and the…the spanking…and the…Jesus, she thought-this was so good! That she had never done this was undeniably true. To say though that she had never thought about it would have been a lie. So now all her fantasies and daydreams came to life and propelled her tongue gently along the inside of Angie’s thighs. Then gently, up and down and around the damp folds of her-then less gently, into the hot passage. She pushed deeply, hungrily, grinding her nose into the stamp sized tuft of beautifully trimmed blonde hair.

She found it where she thought it would be: at the top of the flower, erect and pulsating. It took just a lick-a tiny flick of the tongue-to move Angie upward. Two flicks and she was almost bridging on her neck. Jess withdrew and she came down-receding like a wave pulling back from the beach. Jess flicked and she rose. In and out, up and down…teasing…

“You brat…” Angie moaned and again a word-one tiny syllable-jolted something inside Jess. She filed that away to ponder later. Now she was in love now with the power of her tongue-giving the touch-withholding it-nibbling once-backing off. She loved the mewling sounds and grunts she was causing with just a flick…of…her…tongue. “Damn!” she thought.

She pulled her head back and-with her hands on the back of her thighs, pushed Angie further up-exposing her tight pink asshole. From behind closed eyes Angie knew…”Don’t you even…”

Jessica ran her tongue across it. “Gahhh!” came the gasp. “You are killing me….”

With an unseen smile Jess tongued it again then pressed her thumb lightly there. Angie moaned. Then a little heavier, pushing her way into the dry door to her bottom. Blonde tresses whipped from side to side with every tiny push. Then with a final kiss back there Jess painted a wet trail back to Angie’s center. The little man pulsed between Jess’ lips.

“Let me come Jess-“

“I didn’t know I was stopping you….”

“MAKE ME COME YOU BITCH!” she growled through a laugh.

“Since you put it so sweetly…”

Jessica cupped Angie’s the round bottom cheeks and pulled her more deeply into her mouth. She worked her lips and tongue feverishly, maintaining contact amid the rising and falling of bucking hips and squeezing thighs. Angie came like a woman comfortable with her surroundings: knowing that no sound would reach anyone not in the room. Jessica squeezed her ass-as she had wanted to do that morning-as if to wring the last drop of the salty liquor into her mouth before the storms abated and she lay her head on Angie’s lap-absorbing the sweet fragrance that she suddenly knew would be a major part of her life going forward.

This was her mind as she lay in Angie’s lap watching the sun disappear behind the Cooper Building uptown. There was a lot she wanted to ask, but Angie obviously wasn’t deep into post coital chatter. She would wait…

She stiffened when the elevator pinged behind them she heard the muted swoosh of the doors. This time when she looked up her eyes were wide. She moved to rise but Angie, who had reacted not at all, placed a hand on her arm.

“Shhh…” she said, as if comforting a baby. “It’s OK…”

“Hmmm…” came a deep but feminine voice from behind them. “Do I only see one head one the couch? Where might the other….”

Toni, the door woman, came around the front into Jess’ sight.

“Oh, here she is….”

She wasn’t wearing the hat so the blade of her dark bangs cut like a scimitar across her forehead. Gone too was the jacket and the hint of ink that had peeked above her collar now blossomed into full life behind her open shirt.

Her size and appearance, striking though they were, might have been frightening were it not for her soft, dancing eyes.

“How is it that I’m always missing out on the fun…”

“Somebody’s gotta work in this house…” Jessica’s mind was whirling but relaxed slightly as Toni wandered over toward the windows and looked down into the street absently unbuttoning her shirt. Angie stroked her arm-again as one would a nervous child. “You could always join us.”

“That’s sweet. But duty calls. Heading down to The Haven…There is something with a bartender I have to sort out.”

“Oh, oh…which one?”

“Corrine.”

“Oh Jeez…”

“Yep.” She turned away from the window and headed back behind them. “I’m going to grab a quick shower.”

“K”, said Angie. “You want any help in there?”

“No, I’m fine”, said the voice from behind them. “You could send in the dark one though…”

Jessica looked up wide-eyed to see Angie, still stroking her arm, smiling down. “That’s OK. This one’s a little skittish…I’ll keep her out here…”

“So greedy….” said the voice heading down the hall.

(To be continued…in some form…)

Just what the doctor ordered….

(Continued from No Bystanders at the Clinic)

Once her panties were gone, Emmie felt the top cords of the gown untied and the garment allowed to fall open. She was surprised that she felt no embarrassment at being completely nude on the table. He oiled her well-a wet warmth that smelled of eucalyptus-and stroked gently at first, concentrating attention to her anatomy between the small of her back and knees.

His touch was soft enough to feel tentative-hesitant. Maddeningly so. As he dug his thumbs into her hamstrings and up toward her glutes she subtly pushed back into his hands. He was about to ask if this was OK, just a whisper of a flashing yellow light if he should stop…but he didn’t because Emmie, choosing to use action rather than words, lifted to give him better access between her legs and pushed toward his probing fingers.

She began to undulate slowly as he caressed the tenderness of her inner thighs higher than anyone had been in a long time. Her mind was nowhere but on his touch-focused on every twinge, zap and charge ignited by his light stroking. She gasped as his finger circled the tiny rosette of her anus. When he ran his finger directly over it, her subtle opening became more wanton and her lift a backward thrust.

“Please Will….” She said.

He slipped his hand higher and rubbed along her swollen folds. The dampness he felt there wasn’t his oils. “I was getting there”, he said.

“So’s Christmas” she whined with a tinge of moan.

He smiled and withdrew his hand only long enough to deliver a fake smack to her bottom which she mewed at then was back between her legs. His finger entered her this time-pushing gently inside then exploring the walls of her tight passage. Emmie had a flash of consciousness then-remembering where she was. She opened her eyes and saw the shadows of the lamp globbing on the wall seemingly keeping time with his finger. She sighed and closed her eyes again, allowing her breathing to synch with his in-and-outs.

Because Emmie was the kind of woman who couldn’t just accept a righteous fingering at face value she had to tamp down her rising lust as Will found her clit-swollen and ready for attention. And yes, he knew where it was all this time but wanted to draw it out; wanted to keep this woman gyrating on the end of his finger for as long as he could. All Emmie could think of, as his electric touches sizzled from her clit to her toes, was that she walked in here fully clothed an hour ago with no thought to do anything but read a magazine.

“Uhhh!” she said quietly-because she never could lose sight of her surroundings even now. “Will…I…”

“Shhh”, he said and she felt a pressure-firm and unrelenting pressing onto her tight asshole-the very spot that served as her START button when the thermometer slid inside.

“Mmmmmm….” Was all she could manage as she relaxed anything that wasn’t already relaxed so that the growing pressure could finally win and his thumb popped open her sphincter and slid inside of her rear without him ever losing the rhythm of his finger rub. It was too much.

He smiled and whispered “Come on…” then “Let go…” as he placed his left hand on the small of her back to guide her movements. She bit her lip and closed her mouth-screaming inside a sound that came out a muffled grunt. He felt her coming and milked her as much as he could until she shivered and flattened on the table. Again, she felt herself spread and cared not a whit.

He kissed her on the bottom then she felt his breath on her neck.

“I think I better write you a prescription for this….”

She smiled and didn’t open her eyes. “Daily?”

“Weekly to start…see what your insurance will cover.”

“I might be willing to pay out of pocket…”

“Give me a kiss”, he said.

She lifted her head and opened her mouth to accept his. With a toe drag he pulled a stool over to sit at eye level. Emmie rolled up on her side exposing new areas to explore and without breaking the long, soft coupling of lips, Will gently caressed the valley between her breasts and down her belly. She dropped her head with a sigh.

“Feel better now?” he asked accepting the smile as an affirmative. He let the silence settle for a moment then, “What are you doing Saturday?”

“Nothing special”, she said remembering a date she would certainly break.

“I’m having people over….sort of a little dinner party. I certainly could use a little help in the kitchen.”

“You want me to come and…cook.”

“Well, I’ll be doing most of that. Smoking a brisket as big as…” he patted her rump.

“You mean it’s a big brisket?”

“It’s a perfect brisket. Come over, spend the day, figure out the sides, the dessert…hey you have a chef’s coat right?”

“Sure, hat…the whole nine yards.”

“Great-bring it, wear it in the kitchen.”

“I’m pretty expensive when I’m in uniform.”

“No pants then…”

She laughed. “So am I coming as kitchen help or your date?”

“Not an either/or…bring something to wear in the evening. Sporty, anything-as long as it involves a really short skirt. And no panties…”

She giggled like a girl “I’m sensing a pattern here.”

In answer he pushed her shoulder with his forehead forcing her over onto her back. Emmie sighed deeply as his soft lips circled, then covered, her hardening nipple. Watching the lamp patterns on the ceiling she started thinking about the perfect sides for brisket.

 

No Bystanders at the Clinic

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Continued from A Visit to the Clinic

Emmie Summers wandered the wide hallway at the clinic. The place was certainly bigger than it looked from outside. She almost collided with a pretty red-faced brunette with a nose stud hustling out of an exam room. “Excuse me…” the girl said as she rushed past. Emmie spun to watch her then heard a distinct “Smack” from inside the door-she turned again toward the door but it was closed, then spun back, this time walked fully into a man coming the other way.

“Oof…” She was about eye level with a white embroidered “Will” above the breast pocket of his royal blue lab coat. One look up into his lidded green eyes and Emmie sighed ruefully to herself, “I certainly would…” because she hadn’t in months.

“Can I help you”, asked Will pleasantly.

“I’m sorry…excuse me…I’m here with a friend…just waiting on a friend.” He cocked an eyebrow questioning. “Shannon”, she blurted. “Shannon Deavers.”

“Shannon?” he said seemingly delighted at the news. “We love Shannon!”

“Yeah, she’s the best…”

“Been friends long?”

“Since college.”

“Oh-a year or two then”, he said smiling.

“I wish…” She said, flashing a quick grin that dissipated too quickly.

“You okay?”, he asked looking after the fleeting smile.

She waved her hands to take in everything around her. “Doctors, nurses…all the medical stuff…makes me…”

“White coat syndrome, huh?”

She shrugged.

“But I’m wearing blue”, he flashed his own smile that didn’t go anywhere and took he by the elbow. “Here,” he said opening and leading her through a door. “Let’s step out of the hubbub, bub.”

His office was softly lit from by the light coming through the blinds and soft reddish glow of the…

“Is that a lava lamp?” Emmie asked delightedly.

“Sure is.”

“I haven’t seen one of those since college.”

“Does the same thing for me as an aquarium without the upkeep.”

The desk was in front of the window and a leather examination table, scale, sink all were against one wall.

“Here-sit.” He guided her to a plush leather chair as he leaned against the desk. “Just chill in here for a bit. Shannon’s going to be another thirty or forty minutes…”

“What’s she having done today?”

“You’ll have to ask her that-you know with patient confidentiality and all.”

“Oh Jesus!” she said. “I’m sorry…I didn’t even think…”

“No worries, no worries. We’re just talking here….”

He saw her eyes slide over to the lava lamp and watched the red orbs of wax bloom, float to the top and snap to fall back and repeat. He smiled as she watched. “See? Told you. Bet your blood pressure’s dropped ten percent since to you got here.”

She smiled…”I used to love these things…”

“Hey”, he asked. “Would you like me to do a workup on you? You’re here and all…”

“Ahh…no…that’s….Naw. That’s OK….Ah…I don’t think my insurance will cover it….” she blathered nervously.

“Not to worry-on the house. I’ve had two cancellations this morning…”

“Two?”

“Yeah, right? Sisters. There will be plenty of spankings at the end of the month, I can tell you that” he joked. But was he joking? She remembered the smack from outside that room. “Point is, I have the time. We could do this…or you can sit here and look at the lava lamp for the next half hour.”

She stepped into the changing room that felt more like a country club locker room with maroon walls, soft recessed lighting, redwood bench and a shelf with folded gowns. She watched herself in the mirror as she unbuttoned her blouse and placed it on a hanger. Then slipped her sandals off and under the bench and, with a pause for reflection, unsnapped and lowered her capris, likewise hanging them.

She stared at herself in the mirror. She was fine. She was normal for…she wouldn’t even think “for a woman her age.” But truly, she was fine. Normal. Shannon was the freak with her long legs and slim bottom. Emmie turned and looked at her backside. I’m normal, she thought. Fine, she thought yet again. He had said take everything off so she pushed her panties half way down, paused looking over her shoulder and pulled them back up. Panties can stay, she decided. Without a thought she slipped off her bra and stepped into the gown. Her fingers shook as she tied it behind. Idiot, she thought. With a final glance in the mirror she stepped was back into the office where Will was drying his hands.

“Here you go-hop up”.

He managed the basics efficiently. Eyes, ears, nose and throat. Pulse, blood pressure, all good. Reflexes-her knee bounced as she guessed it was supposed to. But there was something else she didn’t expect to feel. There was a little buzz-like an electrical charge-where he held her knee in place.

“Lay back”, he said holding the back of her neck to help her down.

He pushed the gown up over her belly to prod and poke at her abdomen. She was fine with it-wasn’t a washboard but flat enough. He pushed the gown a little higher and she closed her eyes realizing her nipples were hard. If he pushed it one more inch…but he didn’t. Surely though, he had to have noticed.

“What do you do? He asked?”

“I’m a chef.”

“Really? Where do you…hey wait-did you used to cook at Umbria??

“Yes, how did you know?”

“I just remembered having a conversation with Shannon about restaurants once and she said she had a friend who cooked there…Here-roll up on your hip”, he said in a softer tone-as if speaking to someone else in the room. She yielded to the pressure of his hand on her hip and rolled, nestling her head on her elbow.

“I’m not there anymore though. Left about six months ago-freelancing now…”

“Catering?” he asked, then in his side voice, “Lift up please.”

She did, not even registering what he had asked until she felt her underwear slide down completely off her bottom.

“Hey!” she said startled.

“Yes?” he asked innocently.

“I didn’t realize…”

“I did ask you to strip naked…”

“Yes, OK…just startled me, is all.” She giggled nervously. “You are a doctor, right?”

“That’s what the papers on the wall say.” She felt his hand lift her cheek gently and something slide into her bottom. She hissed through her teeth. “It’s just a thermometer”, he said.

“I haven’t had my temperature taken like this in….”

“Hopefully you don’t remember when…” he said jokingly.

“Feels naughty…”

“Ah, you’re fine” he said with his hand resting collegially on her bare hip. “You’re relaxing already-not clenching. So, catering?”

“Yes…I…” small talk wasn’t coming easily. “…have some steady clients…to cook for. Do some parties. All word of mouth.”

The thermometer pinged and she bit her lip as he slid it out. “All normal”, he said.

“Now what?” she asked.

“Do you want a shot?”

“What kind of shot?”

“Mostly B12. Some other things that are a closely guarded secret. But it’s popular. Since you’re here and all.”

“I don’t like shots.”

“You’ve never gotten a shot from me. You don’t like getting ready for the shot. Getting up on the table, pushing your pants down. But here you are right? Why not?”

“Oh fine,” she said as if she was struggling with a decision.  “Why not?”

He pushed again with his hand on her hip but not really. Lower. She felt that charge again as the softness of her bottom yielded to his warm fingertips. “Here,” he said. “Lie flat”. She did and felt herself spread. Somewhat. A little. Not much. Ah, the hell with it!

She crossed her arms and listened to the sounds of tearing paper and plastic as he readied the syringe. “You okay?” he asked

“I’m fine…”

“Yes. Yes you are”.

“Fresh!” she said, flattered.

“I’m going to squeeze here, OK?” he said patting her ample right cheek.

“OK, but remember, you said it wasn’t going to hurt.”

“Oh, I don’t think I ever said that. Don’t tense…” He gave her bottom four staccato smacks that were over so quickly she barely had time to say “Ouch!” then squeezed a piece of her bottom right in the center. She dug her fingernails into her palms when the needle slipped in with a warm sting. He emptied the syringe and withdrew then rubbed the spot hard with three fingers as if trying to remove a freckle. “There,” he said. “How’s that feel?”

“Warm…..”

“Do you want to try a treatment? A quick cleanse?”

“I don’t know if I’m ready for that….”

“Well then, let’s pull your panties back up…”

“I don’t know if I’m ready for that either.”

“Now who’s being naughty?”

“I’m feeling so warm and…..” she couldn’t find the word.

“Fizzy?”

She laughed lightly and opened her eyes to the red glow of the lava lamp burbles on the wall. “Yeah, that’s it exactly. Fizzy. Is that the shot?”

“No my dear”, he said, his hand on the top of her thigh. “That’s you.”

The hand she felt on herself was warmer than she was. “What is it exactly that you are doing back there?” she asked.

“I’m a licensed massage therapist”, he said to the back of her head.

“Of course you are.”

“Do you want to see my license?” he asked, squeezing gently.

“No”, she said. “I’d rather feel it.”

“Can I get rid of these then?”

He pulled her panties down her thighs and she lifted her legs so he could slide them over her feet. He let them fall to the floor.

To be continued….