Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 ï>¿Ideal Suburbia by Publius68

   A new hire must find a home with some excellent help.

   Ideal Suburbia Ch.  01

   "You beat the boss to work!  Smart move on your first day in the main
office!" beamed the receptionist Sally as I dropped my briefcase and box of
stuff on my new desk.  "She'll be in soon though, so look sharp," she added
as she turned at the door of my new office to head back to the front desk.
I watched her leave, well mostly I watched her fetching ass leave, before I
started to unpack.  I set up my laptop, tangle of charging cords, and the
beautiful glass pen jar that a ceramics major had made for me back in
college after a winter weekend full of mid-blowing sex and very little
skiing in Tahoe.

   I looked at the wall and decided to leave my diploma, plaques, and
awards in the box until I was more settled in.  I had bummed around for a
year or two after graduating from one of the most prestigious universities
on the west coast, but never found a good fit in my intended field of
hospitality and resort management.  As a stop gap, I had eventually taken a
sales job in the San Francisco office of CKE Materials, where I had in all
modesty flourished.  Before two years were out, I landed a giant national
account which in a matter of weeks more than doubled the sales for the
whole Frisco office.  That got me noticed.  Within a month, I had been
offered this new position, accepted, and moved to the bucolic midwestern
city where CKE's headquarters are located.

   A knock on the door and in strode Cathy Ecklesford, the owner.  I had
not met her before and that was a shame.  Cathy was several inches shorter
than me, even with the very high-heeled but still professional pumps she
wore.  The rest of her clothes matched those shoes; hand-tailored to a
form-fitting, very flattering cut, but quite business-like in appearance.
Together with the easy assurance of a successful entrepreneur, a three
figure hairstyle, and striking green eyes, she was a subtle but undeniable
knockout.  Usually, when I encounter a woman so desirable, my immediate
reaction is to start plotting a route into her pants, but I thought much
better of it today.

   "You are here bright and early.  Excellent!" she said, introducing
herself.  "I have a few account files for you to help get your feet wet,
while you settle into town," she went on, dropping some paperwork onto my
nearly empty desk.  "I do have two important things to talk to you about,"
she added.

   "First, I know HR planned on having you live in the corporate condo for
your first few months working here in town, but I need to you accelerate
getting permanent digs as much as you can.  I'm really sorry, but I have a
materials engineer I just hired away from DuPont last night who starts in a
month.  He's a genius, but he's...  hopeless, really." She shrugged.  I
agreed that I could accelerate my apartment search, since I had a friend or
two in the sciences who practically needed a nanny.  "You should buy, not
rent," suggested Cathy.  "You can get three times the house for your money
in the suburbs here than you could have even thought about back in
California."

   "Lastly, I want to lay out some cultural rules we live by here at
headquarters.  It is a relaxed atmosphere, but the red line rule is
absolutely no dating, no relationships, and definitely no sexual
interactions with anyone else who works in this building.  A lot of us talk
a pretty good game, even a bawdy one, but nothing is allowed to be directed
at another employee, present or not.  Okay?" she asked.  I nodded easy
assent, glad I had not already started on the seduction plans.

   We exchanged a few pleasantries and she was gone, leaving a tantalizing
aroma behind.  I went over my newly assigned accounts quickly, made a few
calls and set up some meetings to introduce myself, but that was all done
by lunchtime, and none of the meetings I scheduled were that day.  I
guessed it was time to demonstrate my go-getter attitude by commencing the
house search.

   I had already been toying with the idea of buying a house for the first
time, and Cathy's suggestion had crystalized the value of considering it. I
hopped in my Acura and headed out to the western suburbs, which were the
closest to work, and appeared to be the newest area of development.

   Pulling up in a quiet little business district, I got out and quickly
saw what I was looking for, the small independent realty office I had found
online whose staff included several younger, attractive female agents.  I
have a lot of experience that tells me I am more successful, in more ways
than one, when working with women, especially good-looking ones.

   I strode in confidently, despite never having spoken to a real estate
agent in my life, and was lucky enough to be confronted with one of the
more attractive agents I'd seen on the website.  Lee was a sweet girl, even
younger than I, and of mixed European-Asian heritage.  That day, she was
wearing a calf-length, dark blue pencil skirt that showed off her narrow
waist and suggested rather than displayed nice legs and a potentially
stellar butt.  Her dark purple blouse was loose-fitting and professionally
demure.  Her large, dark, slightly epicanthic eyes sparkled behind the
heavy, black eyeglasses that I suspected were worn only for show.  At
least, I could detect no apparent correction or distortion when I found
myself staring into her eyes for a bit longer than necessary.

   "To get started, let's see how you qualify," she said, leading me to a
seat after the obligatory, getting to know one another biographical chit
chat.  I had a huge bonus in my bank account for a down payment, and plenty
of income, so I was pleasantly surprised, both at how much of a loan I'd
qualify for, and at how much house I really could get for that here.  "Are
you married or living with someone?" she asked, but alas, I detected no
probing in the question, only professional box-checking.

   "No.  To be honest, I'm not ready to settle down," I replied casually.
"Though," I added, allowing an artful sheepishness into my voice and
avoiding eye contact, "I do enjoy exploring the options."

   We shared a polite chuckle before she continued.  "In that case, I'm
guessing you are interested in a smaller, more deluxe home?" I shrugged and
replied that I supposed so, but then emphasized that I hadn't fully decided
on buying over renting, and I'd be much more likely to buy if I could
manage it without using all my money!  Laughing, Lee said, "I understand. I
hope you don't mind if I do my best to encourage you to buy.  At any rate,
I'll need to do a thorough search, but if you have an hour or so, I do have
one house that might interest you off the top of my head.  It's been on the
market for a while, so there may be some price flexibility as well.  Would
you like to see it?"

   She went on with a few details about the house, and though it didn't
really sound like what I wanted, I certainly thought that an afternoon in a
car with Lee would pleasant all on its own, but would also be a good
opportunity to get in her head and see what made her tick.  And make no
mistake, I had already decided that whether I bought anything, I wanted to
see if there might be more than one way to get her to "do her best"...

   As I followed her out to her seven passenger realtor tank of an SUV, I
became more and more convinced that she really did have a great ass under
that long, shapeless skirt.  I opened her door and helped her up into that
ridiculously large, high vehicle, and as she climbed in I upgraded my
impression of said posterior from "great" to "world-class".

   When we got to the house, I knew right away I could safely be a pain in
the ass about it, as it was not at all appealing to me.  During the
showing, I displayed all my considerable, genuine ignorance of real estate,
while picking out every fault I could see or imagine.  I was confident Lee
did not expect me to buy this beat up, bland old house.  She took my
pickiness in good spirit and she returned me to her office with advice on
what kind of research I could do to help narrow her search on my behalf.

   "Thank you so much for all your work already," I said, shaking her lithe
hand as we parted.  "I do think I lucked out right out of the box in
choosing a firm, well, in choosing an agent." She smiled at that and I
smiled warmly in return.  I went back to the office to work on the
paperwork inevitable in a new position and in living in a new state, to get
started on the research Lee had suggested, and to just generally be seen
staying late my first day on the job.

   The next two weeks were a mishmash of introducing myself to co-workers
and putting in a lot of time on my "starter customers".  Client
entertainment is still a big part of sales in our industry, and I'm good at
that.  But the downside was that my kitchen was gathering dust.  I did
manage to accelerate my use of the corporate condo's communal gym.  I have
a damn good physique, and I have always made sure to keep it up, even in
the face of my current diet of rich, sometimes delicious restaurant food.

   I also did my due diligence for and on Lee.  I agreed with her
supposition that I wanted fewer bedrooms and upgraded features and
location. I also told her that I wanted spaces suitable for manly pursuits,
and pretended to make her work to get out of me that one primary manly
pursuit would be...  women.  That got a laugh out of her, and I could
practically hear the blush over the phone.  She also showed me several more
homes, one or two of which were actually decent, but I continued my
difficult ways.  Frankly, much of the difficulty was genuine.  I still
wasn't sold on buying over just renting a condo.  By the last few showings,
I could sense she was getting frustrated with me, and with the process.

   The next Tuesday morning, I got a call from Lee.  "I think I've found
your house," she said over the phone.  I was intrigued to hear the tone in
her voice, akin to a poker player saying "all in" as she pushed forward her
stack.

   "Ooh!  Somebody sounds confident," I teased.

   "This one is special," she replied, as if trying to convince both of us.
"It's brand new on the market, so I think it wold be a good idea to see it
today.  It will have to be later this evening after work though, if that's
OK?" she asked, rushing on before I could reply.  "I have appointments this
afternoon.  But we should make it there before sundown, so you can see the
outside in the daylight.  Can you meet me at my office?"

   More and more interesting.

   Fortunately, I had no client dinner that night, so I grabbed a
nutritious meal for once, and was leaning against my car in the small
parking lot outside her agency when Lee's familiar gargantu-SUV rolled up.
When she carefully hopped out to say hello, it actually took my brain a few
seconds to register what I was seeing.  Lee had an extensive wardrobe, but
every time I'd met with her before, she was always sleek, professional, and
beautifully demure.  She still wore a suit today, but the differences were
striking, and anything but demure.  The fabric was black with subtle red
pinstripes, and while she often wore jackets, she never buttoned them. 
This evening it was buttoned all the way to the military-style collar, and
I was unsure if she wore a blouse beneath it at all.  In place of her usual
calf- or knee-length skirts, or the occasional trousers she always wore
previously, this suit skirt was mid-thigh, with a fairly deep slit on the
left front.  The slit overlapped, but when she climbed down from the SUV,
gingerly so as to keep the short skirt under control, I could clearly see
that she was wearing stockings instead of panty hose!

   She came over to greet me with her usual business-like handshake as if
nothing was different.  "Thanks for making the time so late.  We should get
going if you want to see the outside before dark!" She turned to the car
and I moved to help her in as I usually did.  Her leg lifted and that slit
gaped wide.

   Definite stockings and garter belt.

   She flushed a little and said quickly, "I got it!  Thanks!" She slid
herself sideways into the seat as if the flash she had to have known was
coming had discombobulated her anyway.  But Lee's confusion was gone by the
time I had circumnavigated the huge vehicle and got in on the other side.
Her usual businesslike demeanor was back in place, but I was now a little
flustered.  I couldn't keep my eyes off the hem of her skirt as she drove,
eyes peeled for every flash of the dark tops of her stockings that
regularly appeared with each movement of her feet as we travelled.

   "I get so few single buyers, especially men," she said casually as she
drove, "I have to admit this search has been challenging, but I think I've
cracked the code.  I really hope you will like this one.  It's a ranch on a
cul de sac with an open kitchen, only two bedrooms, a big study, a basement
you could finish, and a nice backyard with a pool!" That did sound
interesting, but how much?  "It's not cheap, but it is still in your
range," she added a little too hurriedly for my taste, "and I think it's a
good price for the neighborhood, which is fairly new and very upscale.  The
location should be especially good for you in particular.  The house is
five minutes tops from US 74, which runs practically straight to your
work!"

   I still was having a hard time looking at things other than Lee's thighs
when she gave me the heads up that we were in the area of the house.  I
manfully shifted my gaze outside the vehicle and the neighborhood was
indeed very nice.  All the houses were well maintained, with natural
materials on the exterior.  I hate siding, and it had been one of my go-to
objections to throw in Lee's way before now.  As she slowed to approach the
cul de sac, my thoughts of Lee were momentarily derailed by a jogger
running the other way on the sidewalk.  She was a tall brunette with a
stunning, stacked body which was barely concealed by skintight pink lycra
shorts and black with matching pink trim jogging top that, sturdy as it
was, could not completely keep her impressive rack under control as she
ran. I couldn't help but turn my head to follow as we passed her.  Lee
clearly saw what I was doing, as she cleared her throat and said, "here's
the street!"

   I turned back to find us heading down a short dead end street, with
perhaps 12 houses total.  The house we pulled into was one of the two at
the very end.  It was gorgeous, with a flagstone exterior and a low,
sloping roof of natural wood shingles.  No front yard to speak of, but that
just meant less maintenance work as far as I was concerned.  Lee led me
toward the front door, and holy cow did her ass look amazing, swaying under
that short, tight skirt.  She smiled over her shoulder at me as she
unlocked the front door.

   The house was everything she said.  The kitchen had expensive appliances
and an indoor grill.  The master bedroom was large, as was the master bath.
There was a huge shower with a bunch of shower heads.  The shower was so
big, I stepped in and observed, "you could have a whole party in here!"

   "Yes, I suppose you could..." replied Lee dryly.  For a moment, I though
she was going to come in with me, but she turned her hesitant movement
toward me into a turn toward the door.  Had I just imagined that? 
Something was going on here.  I knew I liked it, I just wasn't sure if I
was going to be satisfied or not.  And I honestly was also distracted by
how awesome the house was.  We poked around in the barren basement and
brainstormed how to Man Cave it up in the future.

   I'm a very good salesman, and I was observing that Lee was too,
especially that day.  She was working me up to a close on this one quite
effectively.  How hard could I make her work?  Could I resist buying this
near budget buster?  Did I want to resist?  Aside from the paint color in
the second bedroom, I had been unable to find a single nit to pick about
this house so far.  I am used to being the hunter, and suddenly I was the
pursued, and in more ways than one.  It was confusing.

   By the time we came up out of the basement, the sun had set.  Lee opened
the curtains covering the back side of the great room to reveal a wall of
windows looking out over the surprisingly large back yard, and the
glowingly lit small pool in the center of it.  There was lots of subtle
landscape lighting in the foliage that covered and broke up the high, solid
privacy wall surrounding the property.

   I stepped out on to a grassy area and looked around.  Lee followed and
stood next to me, closer than she ever had before.  She usually was a ball
of energy, moving around constantly to point things out.  Now she was still
and close, practically touching me in fact.  "You have to love this
backyard, especially at night," she exclaimed brightly, looking up into my
eyes.  Forestalling any reply I might make, she rushed on, "I love it! 
It...  The lighting and the privacy...  It's..." Her gaze lowered then and
she tilted her head away as if afraid, "It's kind of erotic out here at
night," she blurted quietly.

   Deciding on this awesome, but expensive house could wait.  If that was
not the biggest, most deliberate, cutest come on I'd gotten since college,
it was damn close.  "Erotic is just the word I'd have used," I said softly,
turning toward her slightly.  She looked up at me again with an uncertain
smile.  Inwardly, I was confused.  Was she coming on to me because she
wanted me to rock her world, or was she just doing this to sell me the
house?  Looking into her eyes, I rapidly reached the conclusion that she
was confused about that too.  There was one thing I was certain about.

   "I hope you don't have anything else you need to do this evening," I
breathed softly to her and bent to her upturned face, kissing her, lightly
at first.  She responded eagerly, and I reached an arm around her waist and
pulled her against me.  The kiss intensified as she returned my embrace. 
My tongue brushed her lips as I parted mine and she welcomed my probing,
pursing her lips around my tongue before probing back with her own.  I
could practically feel any last uncertainty on her part, whatever
uncertainty that had been, draining away as he pressed herself harder
against me.

   I caressed her cheek and jaw with the hand that wasn't holding her
against me, then loosened that embrace enough to let me slide the hand down
between us, cupping a petite breast through the jacket, and she sighed.  I
moved to the buttons of the jacket and slowly, almost teasingly started
undoing them.  By the time I got to the bottom one, it was quite apparent
that she in fact not only not wearing a blouse underneath, but was braless
as well.

   Indeed, this girl was a closer.  And whichever deal was her primary
objective to close this evening, I was definitely going to let her close at
least one of them; repeatedly, and comprehensively.

   Slipping the jacket off her shoulders, I bent my head to the milky skin
of her modestly-sized but firm and beautifully shaped breasts.  My tongue
licked out to tease at a small, dusky nipple which sprang from pert to
stone hard in response.  After a good thrashing from my tongue, I wrapped
my lips around her peak and sucked greedily upon it.  Meanwhile, I slid my
hands down her back and at last grasped that magnificent tush, squeezing it
as hard as I dared.  It felt every bit as amazingly firm and sleek as I had
imagined, and I slipped my hands down to pull up on the hem of her skirt.
My grasp moved back to her now exposed cheeks and my questing fingers
determined that not only was I correct in my guess at stockings, not hose,
but my little closer had forestalled any need to remove her panties, since
there were none to be found.

   Her hands slipped between us and fumbled at the fly of my suit trousers.
She undid my belt and let my pants slip to the ground.  I kicked free of
both them and my shoes as she slipped her hands up under my shirttails and
started to push down my soft gray boxer/briefs.  The waist band got hung up
quickly on my now raging hard-on, and she slipped her fingers to free it.
There was a catch in her already raged breathing as she got a good feel of
just how much I pack.  The freed undies dropped forgotten as she ran both
hands up and down my thick, nearly eight inch shaft.





   Her nipple popped audibly free of my lips as she sank to her knees,
undid the bottom button of my dress shirt, and pushed my tie aside to
examine my cock.  She stroked it and looked up at me.  "Wow!  I don't know
which is turning me on more now, this house, or your big...  um...  scarily
big cock.  She tilted her head to the side a bit as she returned her gaze
to my dick, then leaned forward and kissed the head, then let it slip
between her lips where her tongue could commence to torture me.  It all
happened so fast, I barely had time to admire how she Just.  Kept. 
Closing.

   She grasped the base of my shaft and started bobbing her head, taking a
bit more of my cock's length inside her warm, responsive mouth with each
pass.  She made it pretty far, and I was starting to quiver as my balls
gathered themselves when she started to choke and could take no more.  She
released my shaft from her lips and gasped up at me, "I'm sorry!  I just
can't take it all.  I want to, but..."

   "You are amazing," I replied.  "That was amazing.  But please don't stop
completely!  You have an amazing mouth and I'm, well, I'm close," I added
with a genuinely plaintive tone in my voice.

   "Warn me, please," she asked as she resumed her efforts with more
tongue, less depth.  "God knows how much you put out from this thing!"

   She was about to find out, as I felt the pressure build inside my groin.
"Now...  ungh, now!" I gurgled in warning.  I thought she was going to pull
me out of her mouth, but she left the tip between her lips as she ran her
fingers along my saliva-lubircated shaft.  The anticipation of a couple of
weeks of chase, ending suddenly with her basically jumping my bones out of
what felt like nowhere had me pent up.  I unloaded with a gasp as I let
loose several spurts into her mouth.  She swallowed most but the quantity
still surpassed her and a bit escaped her lips and ran down her chin to
both sides of my cock.

   "Wow!" she exclaimed, swallowing again and sitting back on her heels. 
She wiped her jaw free of cum and licked her fingers clean.  Then she
leaned back forward and tortured my post-orgasmic cock as she licked it
clean of any remaining jizz.  "Please tell me," she said as she rose to
stand before me, without releasing my temporarily softening cock, "that you
are not a one and done guy."

   I chuckled with experience-born confidence and replied, "I have an idea
to give me time to recover." With that I pushed down on her shoulders and
pressed her down to lie on her back on the deliciously soft lawn.  I bent
and pushed up her short skirt to her waist, admiring her full but neatly
trimmed bush.  But not for long, as I moved down to return the initial
favor.  My tongue swept up and down her snatch and I received some
immediate vocal encouragement.  I twisted my tongue until it slipped
between her nether lips and tasted her delicious juices.  I slipped my grip
underneath her to grasp her spectacular ass and lift her up against my
face. Lee groaned, pulling her skirt further out of the way, and I was
dimly aware that she was toying with her petite breasts as I worked.

   I did not need long to get results, as I quickly felt shudders run
through those delicious glutes, followed by a guttural groan, twisting
hips, and a sudden increase in vaginal juices against my face.  She
collapsed to the ground beneath me.  I smiled up at her and slid forward
until my now recovering cock was positioned above her groin.  She reached
down and grasped it, massaging it back to full girth and strength.  Then
she pointed it down toward her snatch and pulled until I let her guide me
inside her.  I felt myself penetrate her smoothly to the hilt, and while
she was clearly unused to the sensation of being so full, my size did not
seem to make for any difficulty.  I rested there inside her for a spell as
I kissed her deeply and teased once more at her highly responsive nipples,
before slowly beginning to thrust in and out.  She did seem a little
uncertain about how to take me at first but then threw back her head and
groaned, "don't stop!"

   I thrust happily into her, holding my own arousal in check as I did so.
When I sensed her beginning to rise beneath me, I slid free.  Missionary
was not how I wanted to finish with this little woman.

   "Wha...?" she asked, confused and reached for my cock to guide it back
to her, but I smiled and straddled her as I turned her over onto her belly.
I lowered myself rub my cock over her bare, magnificent ass.  I'd focused
on this feature of hers, I wanted to take a moment to appreciate its look,
its feel.  Lee quivered beneath me, and gasped reluctantly, "No.  No!  I
mean, I don't like it there, and even I did, you'd kill me!"

   "Don't worry," I reassured her.  "That's not my thing either," I
whispered honestly in her ear as a lowered myself upon her, letting my
shaft rest between her fantastic glutes.  "But you have the most incredible
ass, and I want to appreciate it as I fuck you." I lifted her hips upward
until she was kneeling on the grass and I slipped her legs apart so I could
kneel between them.  I guided my cock back inside her pussy and grasped her
hips.  Lee groaned happily as I entered her once more and she pressed her
face into the ground as I began to thrust in full earnest.

   "Oh my god," gasped Lee beneath me.  "I've always fantasized about
getting laid during a showing!  This is incredible." I pulled back with my
thrusts, now slipping just the first couple inches in and out of her,
slowly, teasingly.  "This house is so sexy," Lee breathed, pushing her hips
backward to push more of me inside her.  "You are so sexy!  You know you
have to have it.  Please make an offer!" Her hands stretched out to where
she had dropped her briefcase and snatched a set of papers from it.

   "I knew you'd like this house...  though not how much!" Lee grunted as I
started to slide all the way inside her once more, keeping my pace slow as
the professional, hormone-free portion of my brain marveled at what she was
doing.  "So beforehand, I wrote up an offer.  I think you can get it for
five grand below ask.  Please make the offer." She slapped the offer
paperwork on her smooth, bare back and waved a pen uncoordinatedly in the
air.  "You know you'll get the perfect house for you, and I'll have the
sexiest realtor moment in history."

   I paused my thrusts in a moment of doubt uncharacteristic for me.  Was I
really going to let her fuck me into buying this house?  This house that I
really, genuinely did think was perfect?  Lee pushed her hips back against
my cock.  "Oh, Christ!" she gasped, "Buy it or don't, but whatever you do,
don't quit fucking me!"

   I grabbed the pen, found the places for initials and the signature line
and began to carefully sign it.  Carefully only because I was damn sure
thrusting as hard as I could, and her bare back was writhing in ecstasy,
and thus not a very stable writing desk.  I finished making the deal and
tossed the papers toward her briefcase, arching my back to get every last
millimeter of my cock inside her.  She cried out beneath me and I felt
shudder after shudder of orgasm begin to take hold of her.  I gave into my
own release and I felt spurt after spurt of my cum spill inside her,
enticing a fresh wave of spasms from her in response.  I manfully kept
thrusting in the aftermath of my orgasm for a moment, but it was clear that
Lee, too, was spent.

   The seller took my offer.



   Ideal Suburbia Ch.  02a

   A trip to the strip club to celebrate...  and to plot.

   "Here you go," said my boss Cathy, sliding a file across my desk to me.
"You know I brought you into this office to see if you can crack some of
our toughest potential customers.  Here is one of those problem accounts."
I picked it up and looked over it.  "Gus Merkle is the decision maker
there. They buy thousands of dollars worth a week, but never from us.  No
salesperson I have sent in has gotten the time of day from this guy...  and
I definitely stopped sending women to call on him.  Sorry, but he is kind
of a creep."

   "Looks, uh, fun." I replied.  Cathy laughed in reply.

   "No pressure," she said, her glossy black hair spilling over her
shoulder as she looked back at me while she headed out the door, "but guys
like him really are the reason I brought you in."

   So.  LOTS of pressure...

   I picked up the phone and got through to Gus directly, which was little
bit of a surprise.  He was gruff and unencouraging, but he did agree to see
me just after lunch.  After lunch?  Old school-sounding guys like Gus
usually made getting free meals out of salespeople agenda item one.

   The account was on the south side of town, in a light industrial area. I
pulled up and went in to introduce myself.  The initial meeting went well,
though I could tell that Gus had someone else take him out to lunch and
drinks already, which is why my expense account was not hit on that day.  I
could also tell that Gus was indeed something of a pig, both in personality
and appearance.  At least he didn't stink, which was surprising in a guy
who looked like a toad in a rumpled business suit.

   What I got from Gus was not promising.  Essentially, he believed that
CKE and our competition all had essentially the same product, which to be
honest, in the product lines he purchased, we all did.  He also was very
comfortable with his existing supplier relationships.  They took care of
him, and he bought from them.  But mostly Gus did not like working very
hard.  Changing suppliers and shopping prices was a lot of work, so Gus was
very disinclined to consider any such thing.  As I said, not promising.

   As I pulled away from the business glumly, my phone rang.  My real
estate agent, Lee was on the other end to let me know that negotiations
were complete, and I would be the owner of my own suburban home in a matter
of days.  Lee was an attractive woman and very able real estate agent, who
had also demonstrated great skill in balling my brains out on a grassy back
lawn.  She had reverted to her cordial, professional self after the night
she fucked me into making the offer that had just now been agreed to, but I
was ok with that.  I'm not looking for any one woman at this point in my
life.  Or any two, three, seven or ten women for that matter!

   So now I was a homeowner.  When I got back to the office just before
most people were knocking off, I saw Cathy in the hallway and told her I
was gong to be clearing out of the corporate condo shortly.  "Thank you!"
she said.  "Good work.  I do need that condo for the new engineer.  You
should celebrate.  I'd buy you a drink myself," she added, "but I have a
hot date tonight!" She winked at the world in general and left, fortunately
without asking about Gus.

   The problem was, I knew a lot of co-workers, but had made no real
friends in the city yet.  No one to celebrate with.  And, truth be told,
having sex with Lee after several weeks of casual abstinence had reignited
my considerable libido.  I did not necessarily need to get laid tonight,
but I did want some sexy fun.

   I reversed course and stepped back into my office.  I sat down and
opened my phone's browser, since this search was sure as hell not
appropriate for an office computer, and checked out what the strip club
scene was like in this city.  I was surprised at how many options there
were in town, not just for the size of the city, but in absolute terms. 
People in this region liked their titties, apparently.

   I soon came to the conclusion from the reviews there was one club that
stood out, and hopped into my car to investigate.

   It turned out the club I had chosen was on the south side of town, back
the way I had just come, and not very convenient to the condo where I was
staying, or my new home.  Probably a good thing, as I am fully capable of
spending too much cash on clothing-removal engineers.  I was suddenly a
home owner.  I'd have to start watching my finances.  But maybe not
tonight.

   I arrived and stepped inside to get the lay of the land (after paying an
exorbitant cover).  The club was pretty big.  There was a huge main stage
in the center of the room where I entered, round and elevated about two
feet above the floor.  It had a brass pole reaching up to the 15-20 foot
high ceiling and a brass rail running around the stage at about four feet
above floor level.  Behind the stage was a long bar.  Guys sat at the bar,
around the stage and at tables spread throughout the room.  A wide hallway
led away to one side, with a steady stream of dancers and customers flowing
in and out.  The dancer on stage was chunky and sported tattoos.  Too many
tattoos.  The only real value in looking at her for me was to learn that
this was a full nude club despite serving alcohol, which was a combination
outside my previous experience.

   I found my way to a seat at a table well away from the stage and seated
myself.  Almost immediately, an attractively rubinesque waitress, dressed
in the club uniform of tight, white t-shirt and black shorts, approached
and took my order for a Manhattan.  As she turned away, I let my gaze rove
to take in the club and the crowd.  In my suit and tie, I was far better
dressed than most of the crowd.  Only about a quarter of the guests were in
business dress.  Of course, the customers were overwhelmingly men, but
there were a few women mixed in as well.  They always seem to draw the eyes
around them, even when they weren't particularly attractive.

   On the stage, the next several dancers were distinct improvements.  One
tall, waif-like one with outsized, certainly fake tits was not only hot,
but had some moves.  I went to tip her a couple of bucks during her time on
stage, but there was a guy waiting to reclaim her time as soon as her set
was finished.

   My Manhattan arrived and I relaxed, shooing away a couple of dancers
whose approach or appearance left me cold.  An idea itched in the back of
my head, and I shifted my gaze to the guests around me.  Most guys were
dressed casually, many in shorts, which I knew to be an excellent play at
many clubs like this, especially if you left your underwear at home.  The
customers dressed in business attire as I was were the bigger spenders, and
unlike me, they tended to congregate in groups.  Most of them took turns
buying rounds of drinks, but in a few groups, one person would be buying
everything.  I saw one such close out his bill with a corporate card.  You
would need to have some significant earnings to show for it to expense
drinks and especially dances at a club like this.

   A pretty pigtailed brunette in a sexy schoolgirl plaid skirt and short
sleeved white dress shirt that had been cropped at the bottom to display
her entire abdomen and an inch of the bottom curves of some genuinely large
boobs slid up to my side and asked me if I would like some company.  I felt
like I needed some more info about how things worked at the clubs in
general in this state, and at this one in particular.  Also I felt I would
not mind getting my hands on what was inside that shirt either, if that was
in the offing.  I asked her to sit.  Ignoring the chair beside me, she slid
into my lap, crossing her white mesh stocking-clad legs.  Like every worker
in the club, she wore 6 inch platform shoes, black in her case.  She draped
an arm around my shoulders and leaned against me companionably.  Her rack
pressed against me, a fact that I was sure was totally incidental...

   "I'm Shasta," she said, introducing herself.  "What are you drinking?  A
Manhattan?  Fancy drink for a strip club!" I just grinned in reply to that.
A little more chit chat and I brought up that I was a newbie here in town
and in this club, but I assured her that I was hoping to be convinced to
come in often.  I then asked for the low-down about the club.

   "Well, we are in the main room here, and that is the show stage, of
course," Shasta said.  She waved at the wide hallway and went on, "Down
that way is the back room.  It has a tiny little stage, fewer large tables,
and more large, comfy chairs.  It's also a lot darker back there," she
added, running a finger down my tie.  "The hallway between here and there
is you go for the Champagne rooms, which," she said, leaning her tits even
harder against me, "is the place for all the best fun."

   I asked about rates, and she quoted me prices for basic lap dances out
in either of the main rooms that were pretty reasonable.  I started to lose
interest in her when every number she quoted included the phrase, "plus
tip".  Especially when she quoted the price for VIP which was "$500 an
hour, plus what you negotiate with the dancer for herself, plus tip, of
course." I usually tip, I don't mind a little subtle reminding.  But I
don't like to see a dancer being open about feeling entitled to one,
especially not that openly.  Still, those tits felt great against me, and I
still wanted a scouting report, so I asked her to walk me around.  We rose
and started down the wide hall, arms around each other, each of us with a
hand on the other's ass.

   In the middle of the passage was a huge, purple curtained doorway with a
pink cursive neon 'Champagne' sign over it, and an equally huge bouncer at
a podium that looked ridiculously tiny in front of his bulk.  Shasta subtly
tried to steer me toward the curtain, but I resisted, commenting that "we
will have to talk more about how things go in the VIP." She relented and we
entered the back room, which was indeed much darker, especially in the
parts away from the hallway or the small, floor-level stage, which wasn't
even occupied right now.  We paused and looked around as she explained that
the small stage was usually only staffed late at night or on weekends.

   "How about we find a seat back there," she asked, indicating a darker
wall of the room, "and let me give you a dance?"

   They were really big tits.

   "Sure," I agreed, "Lets sit and you can give me the lowdown on Champagne
Room shenanigans until the next song starts." Never let a stripper start
dancing as soon as you find a seat.

   The seat she chose was in the darkest area of the club, but still more
exposed to view than most, and I knew at that moment that I was going to
stop at one dance.  Had she chosen the nearby chair that was almost
completely blocked from view by a pillar and another high-backed chair, I'd
have held out hope for game on.  But not now.  I prepared to get nothing
but teased.  Her descriptions of activities in the Champagne Room were
similarly unpromising.  Everything she discussed was vague, and she never
promised anything beyond what I could get out here, really.  Just more
"privacy" and "intimacy".

   As the music changed smoothly to the next song, she slipped to her feet
and began swaying quite fetchingly as she unbuttoned the few buttons on her
cropped shirt, flipping it open and then slipping it off her shoulders. 
Yes, those tits were indeed very nice.  She leaned toward me, boobs
dangling just beyond my face, and breathed into my ear, "watch this, will
you?" as she tucked the shirt behind me on the chair.  She slowly swayed
around until she was facing away, and bent all the way over, legs spread
and straight.  She smiled at me from between them and flipped the already
short skirt, exposing a thong-clad, slightly disappointing ass.  She undid
a catch at her hip and pulled her skirt away.

   She then turned again and slid into my lap, trapping my arms with her
thighs and began to grind her crotch against mine.  She alternated between
leaning backward, and pressing forward, swaying her tits in my face, just
out of reach my lips, but occasionally brushing my nose.  It was a classic
example of a lap dance that certainly wasn't an air dance, but was in no
way interactive.  "I thought this was a full nude club," I murmured to her,
indicating her thong.

   "Girls who want to can go full nude, but when on stage only," she
replied.  "When I'm climbing all over a handsome guy, the law says I have
to keep the thong on.  I guess the legislature thinks I'll lose control!"

   As the song neared its end (or rather where it was about to be cut short
by the DJ), she turned again, feet now on the floor and ground her ass
against my lap.  She lifted my hands and held them along her thighs, which
were much tauter and more appealing than that flabby ass.  When the song
ended, she started grinding even harder and looked over her shoulder to ask
if I wanted to continue.

   I told her I was done for now, it being my first interaction of the
evening, and she rose to return her clothes to action stations.  I handed
her the Andy Jackson for the dance, along with another ten as tip, and told
her we might hook up later.  "I'll come find you," she smiled.  We both
knew we were lying.  After she slipped away, I rose, not even really
needing to hide or adjust a hard on.

   I took my time as I stood and walked out of the gloom toward the
hallway. My eyes had become adjusted to the dark and I could make out a
number of other guys getting dances, some more hidden away than others.  It
was both irritating and encouraging that most of them looked like they were
getting more mileage in their dances than I had.  In some cases, a lot
more.

   As I walked into the much brighter light of the hallway, I felt my arm
being taken gently by someone behind me.  I slowed and turned my head to
evaluate who was going to make the next play.

   Hello!

   "Hi there, I'm Monique.  I don't think I've seen you here before.  First
time?" she said in a soft, sultry voice.  I smiled and allowed that indeed
I was a first timer.  I gently disengaged her arm and turned to take her
in. She didn't try to hang on, but instead preened for me with a
well-deserved confidence.

   With her six-inch stripper heels, Monique was about my height.  She had
a bland but pretty face, with just a bit too much makeup.  Her blonde hair
(obviously a bottle color) surrounded her face in a 80's style corona of
curls, teased within an inch of its life.  She wore a floor-length beige
satin nightgown, with lace ornamentation over the breasts.  The fabric was
just the right kind of clingy to accentuate her voluptuous hourglass figure
within.  It also was just translucent enough to gave hint of a bright
yellow thong underneath.  The lace on the bodice prevented a look through
at her tits, but the neckline plunged far enough to give an enchanting
promise of a rich, firm, possibly natural pair.  Then it plunged a little
further.

   I introduced myself and asked her if I could buy her a drink, indicating
the tables in the main room.

   "I'd love a scotch and ginger ale," she said, which was a helluva
interesting drink for a stripper.  She took my hand, but instead of heading
for the main room, she led me back into the gloom of the back.  As we
walked, she caught the attention of the best-looking cocktail waitress I'd
seen in the place, who waved back.

   Monique took me back against a different wall to a pair of high-backed
upholstered chairs with a small table for cocktails.  "Do you mind if I sit
in your lap?" she asked.

   "Please!  Without question," I replied.  After the busted straight of my
first dancer, I now felt I had a high two pair, with plenty of draws to a
Full House.  She turned the first chair sideways to the wall, so its back
faced the light spilling from the hallway.

   "We won't need this one," she said, pushing the other chair out of the
way.  And by out of the way, I mean she maneuvered it to face away and
block any view of us from the rest of the room.  I sank into the chair and
she sank into my lap like a feather.  Her firm, warm ass rested on my right
thigh, just brushing against my already stirring cock, and she draped her
left leg over mine.  I eased one hand onto her posterior and she accepted
my caress without objection.  She took my other hand and firmly rested it
on her thigh, with my fingers draped well down the smooth inner side.  She
snuggled against me and said, "Tina will be over in just a second.  Please
take care of her, she's always around when I want her, but she also knows
when to...  leave us alone."

   Tina was indeed over in a second to take our order.  It was too bad she
was a server and not a dancer.  Her black shorts were more like hot pants,
with a low waist and legs less than an inch long.  She was a little soft
around the middle, but her white, club-logoed t-shirt fit very tightly, and
the crew neck had been cut away to display some generous cleavage.  I
ordered Monique's scotch and ginger ale, along with another Manhattan for
myself, and Tina wafted away, swaying her ass.

   Monique and I made casual conversation for a while; long enough for the
drinks to come back, along with a mountain of cocktail napkins.  As Tina
set down the drinks, she and Monique exchanged a glance and the waitress
told me, "I'll leave you two alone.  If you need another round, come find
me!" I made sure to tip her well before she left, then went back to finding
out more about my current friend.

   Monique was a pro.  She had once hoped to go to college on a swimming
scholarship, but had been unable to get one, except to a community college.
She went there, hoping to produce good enough results get a place on a team
at a four year school.  Meanwhile, she had begin dancing to make ends meet.
But she found the money so good that she gave up swimming and paused her
education after she got her Associate's Degree, instead concentrating on
making money full time.  That was five years ago and she now owned a
condominium and drove a Tesla.  I reflected that if she successfully
retired and went back to college, I'd want to hire her for something.  She
seemed to have her head screwed on remarkably tight, especially for a
stripper.

   During the whole conversation, she subtly tormented me.  Her arm that
draped around me teased at my shoulder and jawline idly, and she made sure
I had plenty of good looks down that delicious cleavage, without giving me
the view continuously.  Her ass slipped closer to press harder against my
now quite eager erection, without giving any indication that she felt it.
And as she talked, she slid my hand on her thigh up and down along it as if
she didn't realize she was doing it.

   After I had a sip or two, I realized that she had waited me out and was
going to make me be the one to bring up getting her naked.  I asked about
dances and how everything worked at this club.  Her reply was subtly but
significantly different from Shasta's ham-fisted pitch.

   "Well, dances are twenty dollars a song, and during them, you can touch
me anywhere you like, except you can't 'pet the kitty', if you get my
drift," she said with an inviting smile.  "Each girl sets her own limits,
of course, mostly within the club's rules.  The law says we have to keep
our bottoms on when doing private dances, but in the privacy of the VIP,
lots of girls go fully nude." I asked further about the champagne room, for
a variety of reasons.

   "The champagne room is really a collection of little closets with heavy
curtains over the entrance.  Each just has a little sofa and a chair like
this." She quoted the hourly rate for the room alone, before you negotiated
with the dancer, and I knew that being a new homeowner meant I still was
not a VIP.  "Some girls will only dance for guys in VIP, most are eager to
whenever they can and will sell you on it to the point of being annoying.
Just tell them a hard no, and most will keep the upsell down to a dull
roar."

   "As for me, I never go back to the rooms," she said, rotating to sit on
my other thigh, facing my now as she rubbed her leg against my crotch.  I
raised an eyebrow at her assertion, and she said, "I've run the numbers and
it doesn't make sense, at least not for me.  Why have you give so many
hundreds out of your budget to the club, when you could spend them on me?"
She wrapped her arms around the back of my neck and leaned forward to talk
directly into my ear.  "In the right place out here, like the one we are
cuddling in right now, we can get away with pretty much anything that I am
prepared to do with a guy here at work anyway.  More money for me, less
expense for you.  We both win." I murmured I'd be interested in just what
she was prepared to do, and she laughed.  "A new song is about to start,
let's do a dance to feel each other up, I mean out, and we can discuss any
negotiations you are interested in."

   All I could say was, please.

   Monique flowed out of my lap and slipped the spaghetti straps of her
nightgown off her shoulders.  She released them and the garment shimmered
to the floor.  She really was spectacular.  Her bare shoulders were square
and broad, which combined with her wide, smooth hips made her high, strong
waist feel quite narrow.  Her rich, delicious-looking breasts were large
but not remotely cartoonish, and lifted quite firmly.  I looked forward to
confirming my suspicion that they were all natural.  Her belly was smooth
and just little rounded, with a deep, enticing belly button that was just
the tiniest bit off-center.  She raised her hands above her head and turned
slowly so I could get a look at all of her.  It was a supremely
self-confident move.  Her legs her well-fleshed but smooth and sculpted,
and her large, beautiful, firm ass was framed by the yellow fabric of her
thong.

   Still facing away, she put her hands on my knees and slid back into my
lap.  She leaned back against me, grinding her ass against my now rock-hard
cock.  She grasped my hands and placed them slowly but firmly upon her
delicious tits.  I massaged them gently, lifting and pressing them together
as she gyrated on my lap.  I clasped the nipples between my thumbs and
fingers and teased them oh so gently.  And indeed, her breasts were
completely natural.  I groaned happily.

   She kept up the gentle grind for a bit, then swept up and turned around.
She straddled me, with her knees on the chair, and resumed pressing her
crotch against mine.  Monique wrapped her arms around my head, and surged
upward to press my face in-between those luscious breasts.  I wiggled my
face back and forth against the warm, soft curves, and lightly kissed the
walls of my face's prison.

   She slid down my chest, dragging her breasts down my chest, then belly,
until she kneeled between my legs.  She rested her tits against my lap,
with my bulge nestling between them.  She looked up at me with a smile as I
slid my hands to cup and caress the outer curves of her breasts, pressing
them in against my cock.  I matched her gaze and her smile, indicating my
extreme approval of this maneuver.

   Suddenly the DJ began yakking, and the song changed.  I was ready to
continue, but Monique rose and perched again on my lap, not bothering to
cover herself.  "I like you.  You are so gentle," she told me.  I looked at
her quizzically, and she went on.  "Lots of guys aren't.  You are the kind
of customer I like, because, well, that, and um, this," she added, stroking
the bulge in my pants, exploring its length.

   "So," she said, snuggling down against me, leaving her hand to massage
my bulge gently, "since I'm saving you so much money on champagne room
fees, how are you going to spend it on me?" We both laughed together.

   When a new song began, she had no need to waste time with the disrobing
part this time.  She simply pressed forward to bury my face between her
tits once more, only this time she started dragging them back and forth
across my face.  The first pass or two, her surprisingly erect nipples
bumped quickly over my lips, but then she slowed, and I was able to plant a
gentle kiss or two.  On the third pass, she stopped, allowing me to take a
nipple entirely between my lips.  She ran her hands though my hair as I
suckled greedily, but gently, since that appeared to be her preference.

   Breathing deeply, almost a gasp, she bent her head to say to me, "I'm
really letting you get this far in a lot fewer dances than most guys."
Releasing her nipple from my mouth, I promised her that I'd make up her
shortfall.  Re-assured, she returned her breast to my mouth for more
feeding.  My hands grasped her firm ass and massaged happily.  My grasp
there was a bit firmer, simply because I could not help myself.  A full
song passed in various mutations of this activity.  When the next began,
Monique began to slide down my chest to kneel before me.

   She looked up at me, fingers gently massaging my lap, and said, "you
know, my personal rules may say my own bottoms don't come off, but they
don't forbid your's..." Her idle massage suddenly became an intent
exploration of my trouser fly, and in moments she discovered that I only
occasionally wear underwear.

   She looked up at me with a slightly surprised but very saucy expression.
"I'm going to need room to maneuver," she murmured, as if to herself.  She
checked around to make sure our visual screening was definitely in place,
and tugged downward on my pants.  I lifted my ass to help and she pulled
them down to my ankles.  I had ditched my jacket back when we sat, and she
shoved my shirt up to expose my belly.  My cock was left fully bare,
sticking up plaintively.  She caressed it gently for a moment, and even
leaned forward to rub it softly along the side of her face.

   Then she lifted it to point straight upward and pressed it between her
tits.  She then shifted her hands to the outside of her breasts, leaving my
cock held securely between them.  "I seem to remember you really liked this
kind of maneuver in our first dance," she asked slyly.  "How do you like it
now?"

   "All I could ask for," I replied with a sigh.  I stared down at those
luscious mams encasing my dick as she began to rock up and down.  It was an
agonizingly hot sight.  Her warm, smooth, firm flesh flowed along the shaft
ever so sweetly.

   I found myself reacting far too fast, and sought to cool my response.  I
wanted this to last.  Leaning back in the chair, I reached for my cocktail.
My hand shook lightly as I first rose it to my lips, but I steadied myself
and took a sip.

   "Well," observed Monique, as she continued her gentle ministrations,
"aren't you all casual?"

   "I'm just living the dream here," I replied archly, but in all
seriousness.  I continued to recline in regal manner and took another sip
before putting my drink down.

   "I think I'm thirsty too," mused Monique.  "Here," she said, taking my
hands and placing them on her breasts to keep my cock trapped so she could
reach for her scotch and soda.  She took several small sips and one big
gulp, all the while looking up into my eyes and sliding her body up and
down along my penis.

   I took the opportunity to massage those tits, marveling at their
perfection in my grasp, but restraining my self from grabbing too hard.  As
if she sensed my restraint, she softly said, "I do like gentle, but you can
hold them a little tighter, please!" Please?

   We both enjoyed the slow build for a bit, but she soon replaced my hands
with hers and began to work faster.  She had clearly decided it was time to
finish me, and my attempts at attempting to extend the experience were
beginning to fail anyway.

   Monique was now looking down at where the action was, the purple head of
my penis disappearing between her breasts, then bursting back out above
them with increasing frequency as she moved faster and faster.  The
stimulation was amazing and I gave in to the impending orgasm.  I shuddered
through my whole body and my hips involuntarily bucked upwards.  "I'm..."
was all I could get out in warning before I unloaded.  At the first spurt,
Moniques head jerked up and she almost lost her grip on her tits.  Several
more spurts came after, the first roping across her throat, before she had
my cock's head fully encased between her tits, and the remaining load
smeared out into the fleshy enclosure.

   I gasped, first in ecstasy, then in embarrassment.  My first spurt had
been prodigious, and had hit Monique full in the face, covering her cheek
and nose in dripping jizz.  She sat back on her heels, releasing my spent
cock and she was a glorious mess.  Cum dripped down off her jawline,
droplets were all over her throat, and the inner curves of her fabulous
rack was smeared in a generous sheen.  I was torn between the desire to
memorize this vision, and to apologize.  I went with the latter.

   Monique looked down at herself with a worryingly irritated expression,
but then she shook her head ruefully and smiled back at me.  "Well," she
said pulling a few napkins off the huge pile Tina had 'presciently' left
for us and dabbed at her face, "I worked very hard to get that result.  I
just wasn't ready for quite how much result I got!  I hope you were
satisfied?"

   I barked a laugh and sagged comically in the chair, before grabbing a
few napkins of my own and drying my swiftly softening shaft.  Watching
Monique hunt around her chest and neck for bits of spooge to wipe away was
a show in itself, and once I finished cleaning myself I relaxed with my
drink to enjoy the view.  As she was finishing, removing a thin line under
her jaw that had previously escaped her notice, some one bumped the
screening chair.  Monique swiftly helped my get my pants back in place,
then relaxed as I much more slowly tucked my shirt back in.  Sure now that
she was dry, she pulled her soft nightgown back over her head and let is
slide enchantingly back into place.

   I pulled out the wad of cash that was supposed to have been my
recreation money for the entire week, and peeled most of it off for her.  I
paid for the songs that played while we were having fun.  I paid for those
songs again for the extracurricular activity.  Then paid for them a third
time because, Holy Shit.  Finally, I added a pretty good tip for good
measure.  From her reaction, I had nailed the payment in my intended window
of 'generous, but not a patsy'.  She and I finished our drinks and I looked
at the unholy mess of napkins in and around the empty glasses.  I laid down
another twenty for Tina, a gesture of which Monique clearly approved.

   "I'm on until midnight," she said, standing, "but I think I am going to
the locker room to shower before I get back to work!  Are you going to hang
around?"

   "No!" I laughed.  "I'm spent, physically and fiscally for tonight.  Keep
an eye out for me in the future, please!"

   "Actually, walk with me for a minute or two, will you?" I added as I
rose, my background idea now crystalized.  "I need some insider knowledge."

   "What do you mean?" asked Monique, walking now arm in arm with me as we
headed for the hallway.

   "I have a client, a prospect actually, who is a very tough nut for me
and my company to crack.  My read on him is that the right experience here
might be the catalyst I need to break open the customer relationship."

   "I think I see where you are going.  It shouldn't be hard.  We
specialize in the right experience here!"

   "Don't I know it!" I chuckled.  "But I probably will only have one shot
at this, so it can't just be 'right', it has to be 'just right'.  I need a
dancer," I went on, "who enjoys going to the champagne room, and who is
willing to go the extra mile, ALL the extra miles, for the customer."

   "Okay.  As I said, there are plenty of girls here who fit the bill.  But
you are smart to make sure you are getting one of them."

   "I also need her to be in the upper echelons here, looks-wise.  After
drinks and stage tipping here for a couple of hours, I want him to believe
that he is getting one of the picks of the litter."

   "That does narrow it down," mused Monique, starting to look around at
the various girls working in the club that night with an evaluative air.

   "Finally, she has to be on top of her game for this guy," I said,
pulling out my phone and showing Monique the picture of Gus that had
accompanied his contact info when he shared that with me earlier.

   "Well, he is not quite you in the looks department," Monique chuckled.

   "Yeah, I doubt he has women banging down his doors.  He's also kind of a
douche, and I doubt that he is much of a gentleman.  The good news is, he
doesn't smell."

   "Thank heaven for small favors," laughed Monique.  "All that does narrow
down the options if you need a sure thing..." We walked companionably
around, taking in the sights, but I began to be worried that she was taking
so long to come up with any options.

   "There!" she exclaimed.  "I was hoping she was working tonight.  There
are others you can work with if you don't like her, but Fyre is probably
your Ms.  Just Right." She pointed over to a dancer who was just detaching
herself from a customer in the main room and walking away toward the locker
room.  I started to follow, but Monique held me back.  "She's about to go
on stage.  We'll let her dance for you a bit up there so you can see her,
all of her.  Then we can talk."

   We moved to the stage side as Fyre was announced and out came a compact
firecracker of a dancer.  She was cute, slender, but sporting a big set of
fake stripper tits that were just small enough to look like breasts, not
cartoons.  She wore black boy shorts that exposed the bottom third of her
big but shapely ass and a mostly transparent band top that covered neither
the top nor bottom curves of her tits.  It said "Yes, Daddy" across the
front.

   Within a minute, Fyre was wearing nothing at all as she gryated around
the stage, already collecting tips.  I nodded to Monique that she was
indeed in the upper echelon of women at the club.  Fyre was not in
Monique's class, but then most clubs could only wish there was even one
dancer in Monique's league working there at all.

   I still had a bunch of the two dollar bills I use for stage tipping at
clubs, since they make you more memorable, and began feeding them to Fyre,
who went from having me slide them into her garter to letting me place them
between her tits.  Monique nudged me and asked for a handful.  When Fyre
came around to us again she spied Monique with the whole handful stuffed
into her cleavage and leaning over the brass rail.

   Conversations dies around us as Fyre began to lean down to Moniques
chest and pull out the bills one at a time...  with her teeth.  A few
whoops began to be heard around us, increasing as Fyre went.  The last bill
has fallen deep down on Monique and Fyre took plenty of time with her face
buried in Monique's breasts before coming up with the bill clenched inner
teeth.  Cheers erupted all around and the stage was showered with crumpled
bills of more than one denomination.

   Fyre leaned down to Monique.  "Thanks, I'll have your share of that rain
for you later."

   She started to move off to collect the windfall, but Monique held her
back.  "Thanks, but when you are done, you need to come over and talk to my
friend here," she said firmly, indicating me.

   "I'm with a guy right now," said Fyre, indicating the table she had
risen from to hit the stage, "but I'll try to find you in a bit."

   "No," replied Monique firmly.  "Come see us first.  It's for a future
night, and it will be worth your while."

   Fyre looked at Monique, then me, then nodded.

   We sat down at a table nearby, and when Fyre got off stage, she made a
brief excuse to the client she was working that evening, and came to sit
with us.

   I began to try to explain politely to Fyre what I needed and she
listened attentively.  Then she turned to Monique with a smile and said,
"So what he means is he wants to bring in an ugly asshole of a client and
have me take him the champagne room and fuck him into submission?"

   "Yup."

   She looked at me and named a price.  I winced, then we shook hands. 
"Don't let him order the garlic chicken," Monique and Fyre said at the same
time.



   Ideal Suburbia Ch.  02b

   Business entertainment at its finest.

   Monday mid-afternoon, my phone buzzed as I sat at my desk.  It was a
text from a woman name Fyre, with her schedule for the week.  I smiled,
opened my calendar and dialed the office phone.

   "Gus?  Hey, it's me," I said genially to the pain in the ass that I was
supposed to transform into a customer.  "Listen, Gus, I want to dig deeper
into what I can do to make it worth it for you to do business with CKE.  My
schedule this week is full up during the day though, so can I take you out
after work Tuesday or Thursday?  We can have dinner and some drinks and you
can tell me all your problems...  What?  Ha!  Everybody has problems, Gus.
If they didn't, they wouldn't need guys like me!"

   "Tuesday?  Excellent.  I'm thinking this new place I just found.  Drinks
are big and the menu looks, um, enticing.  I'll pick you up at 5:30?"

   I entered the appointment in my calendar and stepped out of my office to
head to my next appointment.  I stopped at the front lobby to chat with my
fellow sales guy, Steve, about the tennis US Open, which was currently
going on.  There had been a particularly good women's round of 16 match the
night before.

   "That Traci is so much fun to watch," enthused Steve.

   "Yeah," I agreed.  "I knew her back in college," I added, dangling the
bait.

   "No way!  Really?" exclaimed Steve loudly.  He leaned in and asked in a
lower voice, "Was she as hot back then as she is now?"

   I savored that thought for a moment.  "Oh yeah.  Or almost."

   "A few years of success and professional trainers helped huh?" asked
Steve.  He really was a fan boy.  "What was she like?"

   "Aww, I don't want to make it seem like we spent a lot of time
together," I replied.  Then I looked him right in the eyes and added, "But
she did give incredible head."

   His eyes widened in shock, then he grinned and shoved my a little. 
"Bullshit artist!"

   "What's he bullshitting about now?" asked a voice from behind us.  We
turned quickly, since that voice belonged to the boss, Cathy.  She had just
returned to the office and was carrying a bag from Victoria's Secret of all
places.  Cathy set some unusual rules for behavior at her company.  The
attitude was very relaxed, sometimes even a little bawdy.  It worked
because the iron rule was, no relationships or activities between any
co-workers, and you could make any dirty comment you wanted, just never
about another coworker, whether they were present or not.

   According to the rules, I had done nothing wrong, but the general male
instinct when getting caught bragging by a beautiful woman is to redirect
the conversation.  "Have a good lunch?" I asked instead of answering.

   "I did.  And did some shopping.  Want to see?" she said happily.  That
took me a bit by surprise.  Steve, who had been there longer was a little
less caught off guard.

   "Sure!  Special occasion?" he jumped in.

   "Third date," Cathy said significantly, reaching in to the bag.  She
pulled out a frilly pink nothing of a teddy that was both practically
transparent and cupless.  Then she actually went and held the damn thing up
against her body and wiggled a little bit before putting it back in the
bag.

   "Think he'll like it, guys?" she asked over her shoulder as she left,
not waiting for an answer.  Steve and I just stood there, looking at each
other, but not seeing anything, as we were both picturing that teddy on
Cathy.

   The next day, I arrived at Gus's company at 5:20, since if you are not
early, you are late.  The cocksucker of course left me waiting in the lobby
until after six, with no apology.  In the car, we talked about my impending
move into my first house, and he actually had some decent advice for me
about home ownership.

   He looked at me sharply, but in no way objected when we pulled into the
parking lot of the strip club.  We got out and entered.  I paid the
exorbitant cover, and I procured us a large table with seats for any
'guests' that might join us.  As luck would have it, the waitress I knew
and liked from my prior visit passed by as we sat.  "Tina?" I called.  She
turned and approached with happy recognition in her eye.  We ordered drinks
for starters and relaxed to watch the stage for a bit.

   The dancers who shuttled on and off the stage and in and out of their
clothes made for a simultaneously relaxing and stimulating show.  At one
point, Gus bestirred himself to approach a dancer on stage and slip her a
few dollars, copping a feel off her thigh in the process.  When he
returned, I hauled a large stack of ones from my jacket pocket and placed
it on the table between us.  "Sorry Gus!  I should have told you that I
brought plenty of tip money for both of us."

   Dinner came and went.  Gus of course fixated on the garlic chicken, and
I had a time convincing him to order something else.  I had been
specifically instructed, after all.  We discussed his company, past
experience, needs, and wants.  It was a perfectly normal business dinner,
just surrounded by naked chicks of varying degrees of hotness.  And it was
very frustrating.  There simply was no overwhelmingly strong business case
to offer to place us ahead of or behind the competition, and while Gus
certainly was better disposed toward me than before, he didn't like me
enough to bestir his lazy ass to do all the paperwork necessary to give us
a try, much less to shift his business to us for real.

   Several times during the meal, I had seen Fyre, the dancer I had been
previously introduced to, orbit by behind Gus, giving me an inquiring eye.
I shook her off each time until the meal was done, and I had ordered us
another round of drinks.  The next time she came by, I gave her a wink. 
Instead of approaching, she disappeared.  I frowned in confusion, but then
brightened.

   Fyre reappeared with a friend in tow who was cute enough, but not in
quite the league of the compact, stacked hottie herself.  They approached
our table and Fyre moved to Gus's side, caressing his shoulder, while her
side girl moved toward me.  "Hello gentlemen!  I'm Fyre, and this is my
friend Georgia.  Can we join you?" Without waiting for permission, each
grabbed an empty chair and pulled them up right next to each of us.

   Fyre kept her eyes locked onto Gus, leaving me left to talk to Georgia
on my own.  Clearly tipped off, Tina chose that moment to arrive and ask me
if I'd like to buy the ladies drinks.  I quickly agreed, and they ordered
something exorbitant with probably no actual booze in it.

   Sipping her drink, Georgia leaned in to whisper in my ear.  "I think
she's got him, don't you?" she said, her hand resting itself on my thigh, a
scant inch or two from my cock.  I murmured agreement and appreciation as
we watched Fyre get Gus increasingly worked up.

   A few minutes later, Tina reappeared to ask if Gus and I wanted refills,
and I replied, "You know what, how about I buy you some dessert, Gus?"

   "What?  No, I don't need anything sweet.  How about another...?"

   "Oh, I think you do need something sweet," I interrupted.  "Um, Fyre, is
it?  Yes, thanks.  Fyre, how would you like to take my man Gus here back to
the Champagne Room and take care of him like the VIP he is?" Gus looked at
me in happy surprise and I shrugged.  "I take care of my customers, Gus. 
Present and future."

   Tina and I (and my corporate card) took care of the paperwork to pay for
the room, and the fee I had agreed to with Fyre back when we first met, and
Gus allowed himself to be bemusedly dragged off down the wide hallway
toward the champagne rooms.

   I leaned back in the chair and relaxed.  Mission very nearly
accomplished.  Time would tell.

   "I don't think you need to worry about success," said Georgia.  "Fyre is
a closer.  She'll close your deal.  In the meantime," she went on, sliding
her hand up from my thigh to caress the increasing bulge in my pants, "How
about you and I head back to somewhere in the other room and see what I can
do about this?"

   Two days later, I processed my expense report, making sure I had the
morning free to deal with the reaction.  Sure enough, within an hour I got
a call from a very irritated Audrey in Accounting.  "What the hell is this
expense report?" she demanded without preamble when I answered the phone. I
sighed, gathered the stuff I needed and reported to her office as she
demanded.  When I arrived in her office, I not only found Audrey, but Cathy
as well!

   This was going to be a little higher stakes than I had anticipated, but
I smiled easily regardless.  "Hello Audrey!  How are you?" I asked
breezily. "Did I screw up the arithmetic on my expense report?" Audrey was
one of those essentially plain women whose appearance is either moderately
attractive, or painfully dowdy, depending on how they dress.  She almost
universally went with the latter, alas.  At least her face could be quite
nice when she smiled.  She was not smiling now.

   Cathy leaned against the wall, saying nothing.  She wore one of her
beautifully tailored suits with the skirt just above the knees, and she had
her elegant, gorgeous calves crossed as she watched Audrey and me, face
betraying nothing.  Nothing except that I'd been called into an office by
an angry executive, only to find the owner there too.

   "Four.  Figures." Audrey said coldly.  "At a strip club?!?" she added,
temperature rising rapidly.  "What.  The.  Actual.  Fuck?  How did you
decide it was appropriate to drag some guy to a cat house and get him
laid?"

   I replied calmly, with a look of brazen innocence.  "Now Audrey, I took
a prospect out to a legitimate, licensed, local cabaret for dinner, drinks,
and a show, as an exercise in personal relationship building." I smiled at
her quietly.

   Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a brief quirk in corner of Cathy's
mouth.  I didn't know if she was amused at that bullshit, or at the way
Audrey gawped like a beached fish.  Audrey closed her mouth firmly, then
shot a quick, wordless, "Can you believe this fuckwit?" look at Cathy, who
returned her gaze blandly.

   "After all," I went on, "I've turned in expense reports for much more
back in San Francisco while working with my big client there.  And those
were just for dinner at Chez Therese or The Apothecary."

   "I remember," hissed Audrey.  "But you had revenue to justify it.  A lot
of revenue.  Revenue to offset your profligacy.  Even if the nature of this
expense wasn't obscene, what the hell am I supposed to offset it against?"

   "Oh, I can help you with that!" I exclaimed brightly, and pulled the
papers from under my arm.  "I just got these in by courier." I laid the
first two pages down.  "Here are immediate purchase orders of eighteen
thousand dollars for number seven sheeting, and twenty four thousand for
six different bearings in various quantities from our new customer, Gus. 
And this last sheet is our contract for the next year with him, with
monthly minimum purchases in four product lines.  I admit I did have to get
more aggressive than I wanted on the pricing, but the discount is still two
percent less than the maximum I was authorized to offer, so my commission
checks should still be pretty decent." I laid the contract down gently on
top of the POs.

   Audrey picked up the contract and read it wordlessly.  "Jesus," she said
at last, giving me another hard, but this time just exasperated instead of
hateful, look.  "How hot are the women at this club?"

   I looked her straight in the eye and replied, "Very."

   I turned to Cathy and said, "I wanted to tell you last evening that I
had the deal, but he is slippery, and I decided to wait until I had the
paperwork signed before I did.  You should have copies of it all in your
email, and the POs are already headed to Distribution."

   I waited for either congratulations or The Axe.  I didn't wait long. 
Cathy laughed and shook her head as she uncoiled from her post against the
wall.  As she walked by me toward the door, she wordlessly gave me a high
five and was gone.  I watched her go.  It was very hard to not watch Cathy
whenever she was walking away.  It was always a very nice sight.

   I turned back to Audrey who was reading the contract once more.  She
looked up at me with a slightly shell-shocked smile.  "For Christ's sake,
no more strip club expenses, please?"

   "I'd expect about three a year, at odd intervals, tagged to Gus." I said
matter of factly.

   Her hand shook and crinkled the copy of the contract slightly.  "Fine.
Please, please, please send me an email half an hour before you submit
another expense report like this.  I'll need time to go to the lounge and
brew a double espresso before I read the next one."



   Ideal Suburbia Ch.  03

   The Welcome Wagon arrives at our hero's new house.

   The closing on my new house went swiftly and easily.  And I found myself
standing alone in my kitchen on my first day off from work as a for-real
homeowner.  There was a lot to be done.  I did not have the stereotypical
move-in nightmare of a hundred mis-labeled boxes.  My problem was that all
my worldly possessions barely filled three suitcases and a trunk.

   I had managed to buy a luxurious king-sized bed with a firm, high-tech
mattress.  No sexy tale about that purchase, alas.  I bought it from a
marginally competent salesman named Larry who did at least manage to get it
delivered on the right day.  I had been very smug about managing to not
have to sleep on the floor my first night in the house...  until I realized
I didn't have any sheets and had to go out to Walmart at eleven at night to
buy some.

   While I was there I bought a set of plates, tumblers, and silverware
which looked pathetic all by themselves in my numerous empty cabinets and
drawers.  Also, apparently a homeowner needs a special tray to organize his
silverware, or the drawer will look and sound like an accident in a scrap
yard every time he opens and close it.  Who knew?  Add one knife, fork, and
spoon tray to the shopping list....

   The fridge was at least not the hapless bachelor image, filled with
nothing but beer, cheese-whiz, ketchup, and a single bottle of wine.  Not
at all.  Mine also had three frozen pizzas, some vermouth, and a bag each
of carrots and apples.

   I had a total of three pieces of artwork for the walls: Two framed
photos; one of the Golden Gate Bridge, and the other of the New York
skyline, and a portrait of me in acrylic paint.  It was a really good
painting.  In it, I am sitting in a chair by a tall, old-fashioned window,
shirtless and wearing jeans with the button undone and zipper slightly
open. It was painted when I was eighteen by my high school art teacher. 
She was the first adult woman I ever had sex with, and good lord was she
bangin' hot.  I'll never part with that picture because, in addition to the
fact that she made me look like a greek god, I have only to look at it to
bring back a host of delicious memories.

   I had virtually no other furniture to furnish the house with.  The great
room felt like a barn to me, with not a thing to sit on, nor store or
display things in.  Not that I had much to store or display.  The gorgeous
hardwood floors had no rugs on them and this made the whole room echo.  The
previous owners had left some pretty nice outdoor furniture by the pool,
and for the moment that was my dining area.

   There was a lot to do, and I had yet to wrap my mind around a plan.

   Fuck it, I'd go for a swim.

   I had just put on my board shorts when the door bell rang.  Wondering
who it was, I threw on a camp shirt, leaving it un-buttoned as I went to
the entrance.  To my surprise, a woman in her late thirties, dressed in
casual slacks and a green t-shirt was just ringing the bell for a second
time as I answered the door.

   "Oh!" she exclaimed, startled.  "Hello, uh, I'm Samantha.  I live the
next street over, and...  Are you our new neighbor?"

   I agreed, introduced myself, and pulled the door wide to invite her in.
"It's pretty barren right now.  I was living in corporate housing before
and I barely have a bed to sleep on."

   "It's a lovely house though," she replied as she entered, looking
around. "Not many homes in this development have this open a floor plan,"
she added, turning around to take in all the...  emptiness.  The turning
around and looking gave me a chance to give her a good look in turn and I
liked what I saw.

   Samantha was easily in her late thirties, with short brown hair cut in
an easy to maintain style.  Her figure was girl-next-door (or middle-aged
woman-next-door) nice.  Slender and natural, with no eye-poppingly
outstanding features, but not a damn thing wrong anywhere either.  There
were the shadows of coming wrinkles here and there and I was sad to see
that there looked like more impending frown lines than smile crinkles.  She
was in the kind of very good shape that comes from an early commitment to
fighting age.  This was a woman who ate right, exercised, and spent more
time and money on skin care than cosmetics.

   She turned to me and I said ruefully, "Yeah, I've got a lot of time and
expense ahead of me to furnish this place."

   She smiled a very nice smile.  "Oh, I don't know.  There is a lot to be
said for starting out from scratch." She looked around, "Is your wife at
home?" When I declared myself as yet unmarried, she looked at me in
surprise.  "Really?  It's unusual to see a single man of any age, let alone
a young one, buy a house.  I don't think there is another single man living
in this whole area."

   "Nope.  I am a black swan, I guess.  Why did you ask," I inquired
innocently enough.

   She squirmed momentarily, as if I had accused her of pursuing some
shenanigans, which I was pretty sure she wasn't, though a man always hopes.
"Oh!  Uh, I was just asking because I used to do some interior design. 
Still have my license, actually.  I thought we might compare notes."

   "Well, any note comparing will have to be with this troglodyte male," I
said, stepping further into the house.  "Want to take the nickel tour?  I
was literally feeling grumpy about not knowing where to begin with all this
when you rang the doorbell.  I'll take any inspiration I can get."

   "You look like you were about to go swimming, not grumping."

   I looked down at my bare feet and wiggled my toes.  "I didn't buy a
house with a pool to do my grumping while sitting on the furnitureless
floor," I laughed.

   As I showed her around, I checked her out further.  First things first,
yep, there were engagement and wedding rings on the left hand.  That didn't
always mean much, but it did mean that if this little tour around my house
with an attractive woman led to anything more than a discussion of rugs and
furniture, it wouldn't be me that started it.  It did not mean I wasn't
going to enjoy checking her out.  The fabric of her dressy green tee was
just thin enough and tight enough for me to make out the basic outlines of
her bra.  It's design was apparently bland and utilitarian, which was bad
for my fantasies, but the contents were slightly above average in size and
nicely contoured, which was good.

   We walked slowly through the house.  I was in no hurry, and it seemed
that neither was she.  She really did have some good suggestions here and
there, though I thought to myself that there was no way I was going to
bother to paint perfectly good white walls, and especially not paint them a
color like taupe.  She also was a wealth of knowledge about the
neighborhood, and I learned a lot of good stuff, like the grocery store
with the best liquor and wine selection, which pizza places delivered, and
the longer route to the highway into the city which nevertheless always had
little to no traffic during rush hour.

   She also talked quite a bit about her twelve year-old son Justin.  My
main takeaway from that discussion was that while I had already been aware
that soccer was mind-numbingly boring, it was also apparently massively
time-consuming.  She never actually complained directly about all the time
she had to spend being Soccer Uber, instead just mentioning it while
bragging about her boy's athletic ability and drive.  She was going through
the third iteration of this when we finished in the great room and wandered
into the next room.

   "At least I have some furniture in this room," I said breezily, avoiding
the subject of my bringing a married woman into my bedroom.

   "Yes," she replied.  "It is amazing how much that makes things sound
less hollow.  And you have some artwork on the walls as well.  Is that
you?" she exclaimed, her eyes alighting on the portrait of me.  I admitted
it lightly.  She stepped closer to it almost involuntarily and gave it a
much longer look than strictly necessary.  "Very nice..." she mused, "er,
uh, a very nice painting."

   There was definitely some potential here, I mused.  It would be a
long-term project, but it had just bubbled a lot closer to the surface.  I
took a calculated risk.  "What about your husband?" I asked.  "Doesn't he
take care of these chores too?"

   "Oh," she said softly, with a dismissive wave of her hand, "he travels
so much for business.  And even when he is home, he is always so busy."

   "I see.  But still," I mused supportively.

   "No," she replied with a catch in her throat, like she was talking to
herself for a moment.  "No, he's very busy, and he's Just.  Not.  There. 
Ever." She whirled and looked at me with dim pain and bright frustration in
her eyes.  I reached out to put my hand reassuringly on her shoulder and
started to mouth some sympathetic platitudes.

   But at my touch, she collapsed against me, sobbing!  "He's almost never
there for Justin," she gasped, "and he absolutely never there for me!" I
gave her a slight hug, feeling the repressed sobs shivering in her body. 
She buried her face in my shoulder and went on.  "And there are other
women, too.  Lots of them."

   "What?" I asked loudly.  It should have been obvious that she was at
least neglected, but I was still honestly surprised.  Samantha was a
genuinely attractive woman.

   "Oh, yes," she said, getting a little less weepy and more angry.  "He
has a mistress right here in town.  But he cheats on me AND her all the
time when he goes out of town.  God know how many bimbos he's had."

   "You've seen the signs?" I asked.

   "I've seen the evidence," she hissed.  "Lot's of evidence." Suddenly,
she seemed to notice that we were sort of holding each other.  She started
to slip back, but then she wailed and pressed herself against me, her anger
and grief swirling together.  "He barely even puts any effort into hiding
it.  It's like the bastard thinks I won't notice.  And with all his fucking
around, we haven't had sex in three damn years!"

   She looked into my eyes, and suddenly she kissed me.  Hard.  I responded
for a moment, then hesitated, partly because she really caught me off
guard, partly because strategically, it was the right thing to do, and
mostly because it was The Right Thing to Do.  She sensed my hesitation and
broke off and pulled free of my embrace and turned away.  "I'm sorry!" she
said brokenly.  "I didn't mean to presume to unload my problems on you,
you're..."

   I stepped after and turned her around firmly, looking into her eyes. 
"Listen, Samantha," I said earnestly, "you are a beautiful woman.  I WANT
to kiss you.  I'll be totally honest, you have me pretty worked up, and I
want to do a whole lot mere with, for, and to you than just kiss." She
didn't look away from me.  She didn't look taken aback.  She leaned toward
me.  I was getting seriously hard.

   "But," I said firmly, holding a finger, "I don't do pity sex.  It is
almost never any good, and it's frankly demeaning to the woman being
pitied. If you want consolation, I'll hug you and sympathize all you want."
Her face fell a little.  "And," I went on, "I don't want to be your
revenge, either.  It's dangerous, and it's pretty lame as revenge goes. 
You can and should do better.  If you are looking for revenge, let's go buy
me a dining table and we can sit down at it and plot." Her lips curled a
little bit at that in what might be a smile, but I was mostly glad that
neither thing I said had seemed to satisfy her.

   I reached out and caressed her soft jawline.  "All that said, I may have
just met you, but I really want to fuck you.  I want it badly." I said
matter of factly, looking straight at her.  Her eyes widened, but before
she could respond, I went on.  "I want to fuck you comprehensively, and I
want to do it right now.  Look, we are two attractive people.  I'm a young
man, with a young man's sexual energy.  At this point in your life, you are
at the peak of your sexual powers.  Not only that, but all that desire and
power in you has been going unfulfilled for years?!?  I want that.  If you
want to fuck me, just for your own pleasure, not for any other reason, then
here I am...  horny as hell."

   Samantha looked at me for moment, then smiled a genuine, and hungry,
smile.  She reached out and hooked a finger in the waistband of my board
shorts and pulled me toward her.  She reached up and pulled my head down so
she could kiss me deeply, with a surprisingly immediate and assertive
amount of tongue.  She tugged at the drawstring of the swim trunks,
loosening them and slid her hand down inside to stroke my rigid cock
gently. Her finger tips slid up and down my shaft, then twirling around it,
only occasionally caressing my ultra-sensitive head.

   My hands rose to clasp her breasts, kneading at them hungrily for a
moment.  But their clothed state frustrated me, and I tugged at her shirt,
pulling it up and over her heard, before tossing it aside.  That broke our
kiss and pulled her hand from my shorts, but she dove back against my lips
the moment the shirt was clear.  I fumbled behind her back, only to
discover that the bra hooked in front.  I slid my hands across her tasty
mounds and swiftly unhooked the bra.  She slid it off her shoulders to the
floor and then plunged both hands down inside my shorts.  I bent to knead
and suckle at her breasts.  Yes, time had managed to put its mark on them,
but they were of modest size to begin with, and thus relatively resistant
to its ravages.

   She swiftly grew tired of reaching into my trunks, and pulled them off
me and to the ground.  I slid my hands to her ass and pulled her against
me, trapping my throbbing member against her bare belly.  My finger tips
told me that unlike her bra, her trousers did open in the back, and I
quickly did just that, sliding both her pants and her plain, utilitarian
panties off her in one eager motion.  I pressed her back against the bed
and onto it, seating her on the edge.  I kissed her once more, then then
pulled back a bit and waggled my eyebrows.  I sank to my knees before her
and spread her legs.  Her breathing became shallow and quick as I leaned
down and began to kiss, nibble, and lick my way up her inner thigh.  At the
top, I circled around her sex to torment her lower belly and more of her
thighs.

   "Oh come on!" Samantha gasped at last, when she could take no more of my
torment.  "I believe we were discussing my incredible sexual frustration.
Eat me, for god's sake!"

   I relented and began to comply.  My kiss flicked across her nether lips.
She was already sopping wet, and my tongue worked its way into her nest.  I
tasted her juices, and they were a little odd.  Nothing bad, thank god,
just different.  There was an edge to her flavor, almost electrical in
nature.  I lashed at her clit and she writhed on the edge of the bed.  Her
fingers wove themselves through my hair spasmodically, and I actually
winced a little once or twice as she outright pulled.  But it was never
enough to deter me, and as I expected, her long-pent up orgasm came
quickly. She slammed back on the bed, ass lifting upward, hips writhing,
and her moans turned into a shriek of joy before she collapsed bonelessly,
lying on my bed with her legs splayed out and dangling off the edge.

   I kissed my way back up her torso, discretely wiping her copious juices
off my face on her belly as I went.  I slid onto the bed beside her and her
hand crept back to my cock as we shared a breathless kiss.

   Her tongue explored my mouth as her hand began to stroke me gently but
swiftly.  I involuntarily thrust my hips toward her in response.  She broke
our kiss and fought to regain her breath, stroking me all the while.  When
she could breathe again easily, Samantha looked my in the eye and begged
me, "Please come in my mouth."

   She rolled to her belly and spun around on the bed to confront my eager
cock.  I hid my laughter that she thought a guy needed anything beyond
permission, much less a request.  She fondled me delicately with her
fingers as she looked me over from close up.  Then she began to lick my
shaft and head up and down, up and down, and around.  She showered kisses
on the head repeatedly, each one wetter and deeper than the last, until my
dick stopped leaving her lips and she sucked me in and out of her mouth
until she was taking so much of me that she found herself choking a bit.

   Samantha shifted on the bed, changing the angle of her mouth and throat
to my cock, and I realized that she did so to allow her to take even more
of me down her throat.  She may not have had sex for three years, and
probably precious little for a while before that, but at some point in her
life some lucky guy or guys had been on the receiving end of a LOT of
practice.  Her husband was an idiot.  I dropped my head back to the firm
surface of my bed and let out a happy groan as I fondled a conveniently
located breast.

   She lifted her head, pulling my dick completely out of her mouth to once
again regain her breath.  While she did so, she kept pumping the
saliva-soaked shaft in her hand.  After what had to be only a breath or
two, but what felt like eternity to me and my eager member, she bent once
more.  Now she dispensed with attempts at deep throat and just concentrated
on swift strokes with her hand and rapid licks and sucks that almost
immediately brought matters to a head.  I groaned a warning, but I think
she had already sensed my imminent eruption, as she had clamped her lips
around my dick and bobbed swiftly but shallowly.  My groan changed to a
gasp of joy and I shuddered as my perception shrank to a pinpoint atop my
legs and I filled her mouth in a single, mighty, stuttering surge of cum. I
felt her suck as she swallowed and she jerked me for a bit longer, milking
me for every drop.  Swallowing again, she then released me and tormented my
post-orgasmic cock with her tongue, getting every last drop.

   "Water?" I asked her in a raspy voice as we lay on the bed, panting.

   "Please," she replied, thirst of all kinds evident in her voice.  I slid
off the bed and looked for my shorts, but she reached out and snatched them
away.  "Nuh-uh!" she admonished me.  "I want to watch your cute ass going,
and that meaty cock waving at me when you return!" With that, she scooted
up to lean upon the headboard of my bed, lying there, languidly waiting,
her eyes just below my waist as I left to go to the kitchen.

   I took a bit longer than necessary getting the water, as I doubted she
intended to give me much time to recover.  I possess what I've been told is
pretty amazing stamina and repeatability, but even I have limits.  I
puttered around, emptying ice trays into the bucket (I needed to upgrade to
a fridge with in-door ice and water, stat), and filling two glasses.

   As I re-entered my bedroom to see her still lounging on the bed, my cock
could at least twitch appreciatively at her cat-like reclining form on my
bed.  She drank her water greedily and we both took a minute or two to
rehydrate.  When I had replenished at least a decent amount of the fluids I
had lost to sweat and other secretions, I set down the glass.  She was just
doing so as well, when I rolled over atop her.  I buried my face at the
base of her throat, licking and nibbling.  She flung her arms around me,
tilting her head back to give me more access to her throat.  She wrapped
her arms around me and soon they had slid down my back and grasped my butt
cheeks, squeezing just short of painfully hard.

   We made out like this for a while, until my erection made its triumphant
return, pressing now hard against her smooth, naked hip.  I arched upward
to lower my lips to an erect nipple and suckled at it.  Now on my hands and
knees, it was simple to shift over to where I knelt between her legs. 
Lowering myself to brush my cock across her abdomen I looked into her eyes.

   "Here comes that exhausting, energizing, pent-up sexual energy-releasing
fuck I promised you," I said to her quietly.  I twisted so that the head of
my member slid up and down along her moist, eager slit.  I probed gently,
but never letting my cock do more than slightly part her lips.  Her hand
returned to clenching my buttocks.  I could take my own teasing no more. 
Without warning, and in one smooth, powerful thrust, I was completely
inside her.  I paused to savor her delighted, slightly over-whelmed gasp,
before withdrawing almost all the way and sliding back in to the hilt
again.

   Her fingers grasped my ass even harder, as if trying to drive me even
deeper inside for a moment, before she relaxed and slid her arms up behind
my shoulders and gave herself to my attentions.  I braced myself well above
her with my arms and watched her sweaty, eager body beneath me as I
established a rhythm.  Her enchanting breasts flowed up and down with each
powerful thrust I drove into her.  Their motion held my gaze for some time,
before I looked up to meet her gaze and we smiled at each other.  Her pussy
felt in that moment like the perfect enclosure, its moist, inviting
interior allowed my cock to slide in and out of her smoothly, but with an
electrifying, demanding grasp.

   I soon found the ecstasy was once again rising in me and I cast about
for some trick to extend my performance.  But it was soon apparent to me
that Samantha too was about to crescendo.  So I redoubled my efforts,
pounding into her, tempered with as much gentleness as I could manage to
impose upon myself.  I suddenly lost my rhythm and my cock emptied itself
within her in a juddering series of spurts.  I saw her eyes widen beneath
me as she felt my load flow into her and I watched her perch on the
precipice of her own orgasm.  I groaned loudly and desperately kept
thrusting.  In seconds I was rewarded as she gasped and thrashed her head
back and forth.  Her hips bucked desperately beneath me and I felt her soft
confines become, if possible, even wetter.  As she came, I kept thrusting
into her, extending and multiplying her release until at last she pushed
her palms against my belly and gasped, "Stop!  Please!  I can't take any
more.  My head will explode."

   I playfully thrust once more, then collapsed atop her.  "Boom", I
muttered into her ear and she laughed breathlessly.

   After an indeterminable period of post-coital bliss, I rolled over,
slipping out of her moist warmth and flopping back beside her.

   "Well, you were right," Samantha observed languidly.  "I was a bit pent
up.  Talk about your explosive releases!"

   "I caught the edges of the blast," I replied exhaustedly.  "I think I'm
a little singed."

   Samantha leaned across her body to poke me in the side, but in doing so,
she caught sight of her watch.  "Oh crap!  Soccer practice will be over
soon.  I've got to go do that Soccer Uber thing." She slid to the edge of
the bed and looked over her shoulder at me.  "Too bad for you.  I was going
to see if I could suck another spray out of your cock."

   "Well thank goodness for soccer pickups, then," I replied, lying back
and watching her grab her clothes and head toward my bathroom.  "I'd have
been embarrassed in the extremely unlikely event I couldn't fulfill your
order!" Her laugh was musical and relaxed and happy as it came back from
the other room.