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Chapter 12

XIII

Chapter 14

 

It was Amelia to whom Emma reported at work. Amelia was a stunning woman, Emma thought objectively. Certainly, the way she dressed was quite unusual. She wore stocking, suspenders and very high stiletto heels, but then, except for the cloak she sometimes threw over her shoulders and which came down to just below her buttocks, she wore nothing else at all. Amelia certainly wasn’t a naturist, otherwise, like Emma, she wouldn’t have affected any clothes at all. Nor was she particularly poor. Her clothes changed quite frequently - although they remained the same in principle - and looked fairly expensive (not that Emma was at all sure how much clothes actually did cost). Emma learnt that Amelia owed her position as one of the Executive Directors of Harlot TV to holding a substantial stake in the company’s shares, and she was one of the company’s founders. She’d made her fortune as a sex actress while in her teens, and, unlike many sex actresses, she’d saved her money and chose to invest it in the relatively new venture of sex television, rather than spend it on drugs and gambling.

Emma found Amelia rather intimidating. It wasn’t Amelia’s age, though she was a little older than Emma, being in her early thirties. Indeed, despite being older, Amelia was still very attractive and took care to remain so. She had a trim figure which would have been athletic except that it was offset by a voluptuous bosom which might have been surgically enhanced. Her black hair fell straight onto her shoulders and then was cut so that it was shorter at the back than the front. Her chosen style of dress emphasised her legs. The stretch from her toes to the top of her thighs was breathtakingly long, and her pubic hairs were tidily trimmed to further exaggerate the length.

It wasn’t often that Emma was called to Amelia’s office. She had just been supervising a production she had conceived: a guest show where ordinary members of the public would have the chance to fuck a celebrity. She had to concede that this was probably not one of her best ideas because ordinary members of the public might have enthusiasm but not technique, whereas the celebrities performed more for the camera than for their apparent partners. This meant rather more footage and clever editing than was normally budgeted for such programs. She had been sitting with Maisie who had alternated between pulling Emma’s clitoris and putting a finger up her anus, and complaining about why Emma was spending so much more time with her mother. Emma was getting a bit upset about this herself, as her love affair with Maisie was getting unnecessarily complex. Would she have to drop Maisie? And could she survive the wrench?

“Amelia would like a word with you,” announced Amelia’s Personal Assistant, Betty, who, as always, appeared out of nowhere. Betty was a slender girl with glasses and hair tied in a bun. She always wore a very smart suit, with stockings and stilettos, but only a bra under her jacket. She was smart and officious, and had a habit of somehow vanishing into the shadows wherever she was, so you were never sure she was still there or not. Betty took no apparent notice of Maisie’s blatant behaviour, and Emma wasn’t at all sure if her attitude belied disapproval or acceptance.

“Why do you want to see me?” asked Emma when she was sat in front of Amelia in the comfortable armchair provided for visitors. She felt very nervous as Amelia leaned forward stroking her chin and allowed her breasts to touch the shiny oak veneer of her desk.

Amelia smiled warmly. Behind her were pictures of actors and actresses - including a young Amelia - engaged in various sexual postures. On her desk was an expensive laptop computer.

“To see you.” she answered enigmatically. She allowed Emma time to get a little more uncomfortable and then explained. “We’ve been working together a long time, Emma. Years in fact. And you’ve shown yourself to be very competent as a researcher and now as an Executive Producer. But I don’t think I really know you. I know you’re a naturist. But then, who doesn’t? And I’ve heard that, unlike most of the staff here, you’ve stayed commendably aloof from the sexual games that go on here. But that may just be a wise strategy in a business where sexual favours can count more than competence in the short run but count against you later. You have nevertheless advanced to quite a senior position with Harlot TV in a very short time.” Amelia paused and smiled again. “I thought I’d like to invite you out for a meal, so that I can get to know you better.”

Emma was taken aback. “Well, that’s very kind of you ...”

“Is tomorrow night at the Iguana okay?”

“I think so,” replied Emma, aware that she was now committed and that the one night of the week she usually reserved for visiting her home and seeing Charlotte was now taken up.

The Iguana was a restaurant that Emma had never been to before, but it had always looked very exclusive. She had no idea what to wear, so she had to phone in advance to see if naturism was acceptable. She was surprised to find that Amelia had already taken that into account, and had booked the two of them in to a Private Dining Room. “That means, madam,” explained the gentleman from the restaurant, “that you are at license to wear, or indeed not to wear, whatever you like.”

Nevertheless, Emma was still very nervous and bought a coat for the night. She had no idea what to buy and bought an ankle-length coat which forced her to walk in a curious and uncomfortable mincing way if she buttoned it to below the waist, which she had to do to prevent her crotch being displayed. When she arrived she was very nervous that the waiter would offer to take off her coat and reveal her nudity in a crowded room, but the waiter was incredibly discreet.

“I dare say you would rather leave your coat on until we are in the room Ms Uruqhart has reserved.”

The Private Dining Room was actually rather small, with just enough space for the table, guests and waiters. Emma was pleased to find Amelia already waiting for her. At first, Emma believed she was dressed as always, and then she noticed that Amelia wasn’t wearing stockings, suspenders or shoes.

“I’m so glad you came!” smiled Amelia as Emma sat down.

Emma soon lost her wariness as Amelia engaged her in conversation which somehow and subtly shifted away from work and general interests to Emma’s private life. By the time the main course was finished and a second bottle of champagne had been ordered, Emma found that Amelia had already guessed at her relationship with Maisie.

“Some of the other Directors thought that maybe you just weren’t interested in sex at all - though I must say yours is a most specialist interest.”

Amelia then found out about Emma’s relationship with Charlotte, Harriett and others. “You really don’t like men at all do you?”

“I’ve never really considered it much,” confessed Emma who still had no opinion on her sexual identity. “They’re just friends of mine. Maisie’s my only real love.”

“And her mother?”

Emma confessed to her worries about that, and the way she felt that Maisie’s mother was blackmailing her into more sex with her than she really wanted. But she emphasised it was Maisie she loved. Maisie was the only person she’d ever loved.

“I’d love to get to know Maisie a lot better,” commented Amelia, but didn’t elaborate.

The conversation progressed from talk about relationships to Amelia’s own life history which appeared to involve a great deal of travelling, being interviewed, being photographed and spending a lot of money. The way Amelia described it, it was easy to forget that any of the films she’d been in had ever involved fucking at all. In fact, as Emma had heard somewhere else, one of the secrets of Amelia’s success was her ability to take complete penises into her mouth and down her throat.

This wasn’t a skill that Emma witnessed after the meal, but she witnessed many others, when Amelia steered a quite tipsy Emma into a taxi and then into the bedroom of her substantial town house. The door was answered by a quite short and slender black woman in an apron and nothing else who prepared the two women a cup of coffee which was brought to them in Amelia’s bed. Emma had experienced enough love from women to appreciate Amelia’s sexual skills, but she could see that Amelia was a little surprised by Emma’s sexual appetite and by its tendency towards roughness.

“That Maisie must be battered black and blue!” she commented.

Emma smiled and squeezed her teeth more firmly on Amelia’s firm toe-sized nipple. Rough? Not to Maisie, she wasn’t. She would only treat the girl with the tenderness and care she deserved. True love is never rough.

The following morning Emma was awoken by Amelia’s servant with a breakfast tray that contained a selection of breakfast foods.

She looked around her, but could see no sign of Amelia. She looked at the servant questioningly. The servant wore the same clothes, or lack of, as the night before but appeared no more aware of this than Emma who was generally only belatedly aware of what other people wore, if anything at all.

“Madam’s already left for the studio,” the servant said with a reassuring smile. “She said that if you wish to see her, the door to her office is always open.”

Emma thanked the servant, who left with her black bottom showing as she turned out of the bedroom and shut the doors behind her. Emma relished her breakfast and stayed under the silk sheets for far longer than she’d intended, relishing its sheer luxury and enjoying the thoughts of her passionate night. She restrained herself from masturbating to the memory - she didn’t want to add more stains to the already love-stained sheets. Eventually, she emerged and with the assistance of the servant, who magically appeared just when she was needed, she found her overcoat and made her way across town to the Harlot TV studio where she had to supervise a children’s pissing programme.

This was an idea of Emma’s which exploited the fascination that children had for pissing and other excretory functions. It was much the same as any children’s programme except for the prevalence of excretion jokes and demonstrations of guests’ skills at pissing and, to a much lesser extent, shitting. Emma didn’t actually enjoy the show at all, - the smell was dreadful and she didn’t envy the cleaning staff at all - but it had become one of Harlot TV’s most popular programmes and had spawned a tamer equivalent on mainstream television.

After the show, she decided to take Amelia’s offer and find out just how open the door to her office actually was. She walked down the corridor with rather more trepidation than usual, feeling the eyes that always trailed her naked body were somehow able to detect her present destination and intention. She knocked on the door of the room just outside Amelia’s office where Betty, her personal assistant, would sit and where there were seats for waiting visitors. Betty was sitting at her desk in her smart, immaculately pressed suit with a computer screen in front of her, occasionally pressing a key and moving a mouse around. Betty smiled as soon as Emma appeared, and, without waiting for Emma to say what she wanted, she said, “I’ll see if Ms Uruqhart is able to see you. Please take a seat.”

She stood up and walked precisely on her stilettos to Amelia’s office, while Emma sat down on one of the lush leather chairs. It felt deliciously cool against her naked buttocks. Betty left the door sufficiently ajar for Emma to see Amelia’s stockinged legs high up in the air whilst a man was thrusting in and out of her.

Emma felt a curious twinge of disconcertment. Amelia definitely wouldn’t want to see her now, she thought with disappointment, but at a deeper level she felt hurt that Amelia would need sex so soon after their night of passion and with a man as well. She saw Betty lean over close to Amelia and pass a few words, not seemingly at all abashed by Amelia’s intimacy. She then strode out to the reception area leaving the door still ajar.

“Ms Uruqhart says that she’s temporarily tied up entertaining a customer, but that she would be more than delighted if you would accept me as a substitute for the meantime.”

Emma wasn’t at all sure she’d heard Betty quite right. “What do you mean?” she asked hoarsely.

“Ms Uruqhart is not a lady who likes to disappoint those whom she considers to be her lovers, - and you are one of the very select whom she now considers in that capacity. Consequently, she would much rather that I made love to you than you were to leave unsatisfied.”

“That’s very considerate of her...”

“You need not worry about discretion. Ms Uruqhart has a room set aside for exactly this purpose. So if you could just follow me, please?”

Emma was actively considering finding her way out of this embarrassing situation, but somehow Betty’s very matter-of-fact approach and the feeling that she’d somehow be disappointing Amelia if she didn’t, encouraged her to follow Betty into Amelia’s office. Amelia was on the desk, her legs in the air and her stilettos still on, while a very hairy pair of buttocks was rhythmically pushing in and out of her. As Emma walked by Amelia turned her face towards her, with sweat pulsing down her face, and smiled welcomingly. “I’m so ... glad that ... you ... decided to ... decided to ... come...” she gasped between thrusts. “To come! To come!” She became thoroughly distracted as the quite stout man on top of her leaned back with his mouth open pushing deeper and deeper into her. “Bet ... ty won’t ... disapp ...point you! ... Ohhh! God! ... God!”

Emma was no stranger to watching men making love to women. Normally she saw at least one such event each day, and usually in the flesh. She still felt uncomfortable about it, partly because it was something she’d not done herself, but it was a discomfort lessened by her complete indifference to the people involved. This time it was different - perhaps because she still felt warm from her very recent sex with Amelia.

Betty, however, was not a bad substitute for Amelia as Emma soon found, and the presence of Amelia’s lovemaking in the room next to them actually seemed to stimulate their passion. Betty had taken her to a small room at the corner, the door of which Emma had seen before but had assumed to lead to an adjoining office. In fact, the room consisted of only a large mattress which filled all the floor-space and a window that let in light from outside.

Betty divested her clothes before entering the room. All she wore under her smart suit were knickers and a bra, which she folded up neatly on a chair. She demurely pulled off her stockings, taking especial care not to snag them on her toe-nails. Then the two of them fell onto the mattress in the room and started making love in a very gentle way. Emma found Betty demure and perhaps reticent in a way she’d come to associate with Maisie, but at the same time she felt a little bored that Betty skirted around her genitals and spent so much more time licking and embracing her breasts.

“Do you make love to women very often?” Emma wondered.

“Not very often,” admitted Betty, sitting up so that her trim figure was silhouetted against the window through which Emma assessed that anyone with a pair of binoculars in the building opposite would have a very clear view of what the two girls were doing.

“How often is that?”

“Only when Ms Uruqhart requests,” she said with a slightly troubled frown. “Aren’t I pleasing you?”

Emma smiled as broadly as she could at Betty’s admission of inexpertise. “Of course you are,” she said, and then took complete control of the lovemaking. It was clear that Betty’s experience of lovemaking with women had generally been with fairly inexperienced ones, perhaps only those Amelia had seduced. Betty was soon to realise that sex with a woman could be just as rough and physical as it could be with a man, and was clearly surprised by the strength of the orgasms that Emma orchestrated and the pain throbbing from her vagina and anus afterwards.

“It’s never been like this before,” she confessed, when the two re-emerged into Amelia’s main office to find the room empty.

Betty walked to a basin in the corner of the office and sponged clean her lower regions and patted them dry with a towel. “Ms Uruqhart is no doubt keeping her dinner appointment with the representative from Turkish television,” she commented.

Emma smiled and kissed Betty full on the lips. “I wouldn’t have liked to have delayed her appointment.”

Betty then carefully reattired herself and led Emma back to the reception area where she reasserted herself in her seat.

“Ms Uruqhart will be very pleased if you would visit her at any time that suits you, and will endeavour to avail herself on your next visit,” she said in an officious manner. Then she smiled slightly wickedly. “And if she is not able to do so, she will endeavour to assist by any other means.”

 

Chapter 12

Chapter 14