pressed her pussy to my mouth. I allowed my tongue to slip past my lips and touch her clit. The sensation was alien to me but something I decided I liked very much after that first tentative flick. I held tight to her thighs as my tongue slithered between her dewy folds. Her taste, a unique blend of salt and earthen musk, spilled over my taste buds. It was nothing like I’d imagined and yet everything I wanted.
‘Oh, yeah, baby,’ she whispered enthusiastically. ‘Lick my cunt just like that. Put your tongue inside me.’
Her breath hitched as I did what she asked. The warm, soft passage welcomed my stiff invading tongue. That delicious honey tantalised. I couldn’t get enough of her sweet pussy. Her little purrs and tiny whimpers spurred me onward. I grew bolder and more confident with my fluttering tongue and discovered the rhythm that worked for her. I couldn’t wait to feel her shatter against my tongue and attacked her clit like a mad woman.
Her fingers wound tight in my hair as she approached her climax. When she finally burst, she pulled hard, setting my scalp on fire with a burn that felt so indescribably good. Her clit pulsed against my tongue. It drove me wild. I knew right then and there that this one tryst with Blake just wasn’t going to be enough.
When her orgasm ended, she fell onto her side next to me. It was a tight squeeze on the table but we made it work. We kissed and touched and whispered softly to one another. In the back of my mind, I wondered how much time we had left together. It couldn’t be much. I didn’t want our moment to end, but reality intruded soon enough when one of Blake’s co-workers knocked on the door and asked how much longer we’d be.
‘Five minutes,’ Blake called out as she touched my face. She claimed my mouth in a possessive and demanding kiss that made my head spin.
We reluctantly parted and slipped off the table. While she slipped on her hastily discarded undies, I fixed my bra and shirt. I headed toward the screen to find the rest of my clothes and get dressed. I could hear Blake cleaning up the table and the waxing supplies she’d used on my eyebrows. When I emerged from behind the curtain, I felt a bit shy. I had no idea what would happen next.
‘Are you doing anything tonight?’ Blake rubbed the table with a disinfectant wipe before pulling down another length of the protective paper sheet.
‘Probably some takeout and reality TV,’ I replied honestly. ‘You?’
She grinned impishly. ‘I guess takeout and reality TV.’
Hope exploded in my chest. ‘Yeah?’
‘I think we’ve been dancing around this attraction of ours long enough, don’t you?’
‘Yes! So completely and totally agree.’ I quickly added, ‘I would have said something sooner, but I just didn’t know how.’
‘I figured this was the first for you. I decided to wait and see, but I guess I got a little impatient today. I threw out the Brazilian invite to gauge your reaction.’ She made an apologetic face. ‘Oh, shit. They’re going to charge you for a waxing you didn’t receive.’
I shrugged. ‘Money well spent.’
She laughed and crossed the short distance between us. Her arms slipped around my waist and hauled me tight against her chest. She threaded her fingers through my hair. Our foreheads touched a moment before our lips met in a lingering kiss.
When we separated, I smiled and gave her a squeeze. ‘I’ll text you with directions later.’
‘Great. I’ll bring a bottle of wine.’
‘And your overnight bag.’
A broad grin curved her mouth. ‘Will do.’
We broke apart and headed toward the door. Out in the salon, we walked side by side to the reception desk where Blake handed over my ticket. As I waited to pay my bill, Blake hung around the desk, pretending to check on her schedule for the rest of the afternoon. After settling my bill, including the phantom Brazilian, I turned toward the door. Leslie, one of the aestheticians, stopped me. ‘Wow, Caren! You’re glowing. Did you have a facial?’
I couldn’t squash the laugh that erupted from my throat. The look on Blake’s face was priceless. ‘No,’ I said brightly. ‘The glow must be from all the lovely hands-on service around here.’
‘Must be,’ Leslie happily agreed before moving on to greet her next client.
Blake and I shared one final, secret smile before I left the salon. I’d expected to feel a little sadness at leaving her behind, but I discovered exactly the opposite. Excitement bubbled in the pit of my tummy. I wasn’t sure where our burgeoning relationship was going, but I figured, with the big bang that kicked it off, it had to be somewhere great.
Work It
Heather Towne
I don’t work for money, I work for sex. And I don’t have to work very hard, if I do say so myself. The money just seems to follow all on its own.
It all started when I turned eighteen. I didn’t have the brains or ambition for college, but I was sure I had what it took to succeed in the working world. Specifically, I’m a tall, leggy, busty redhead with violet eyes and porcelain skin, and good taste in fashion.
I didn’t really try to flaunt my natural charms at first, it just sort of happened by accident – when I showed up for a job interview with a run in my stocking and buttons missing on my blouse.
I saw the ad in the paper for a secretary at the office of the local diocese. And by the time I’d travelled two bus routes and fought my way through throngs of people and a wicked west wind, I found that I’d lost the two top buttons on my green satin blouse and had picked up a long run in my sheer pantyhose, from my right knee all the way up to my thigh. And there was no time to take corrective action because, by the time I noticed the wardrobe malfunctions, I was already inside the Bishop’s office, being interviewed for the job.
He stared at my chest when I stuck out my hand to shake his, then at my legs when I sat down and crossed them. ‘Uh, yes, Ms. Songaard, what, uh, experience do you have for this particular job?’ Bishop McKenzie asked me. His soft voice kind of broke, and his brown eyes widened, as I reached up and fluffed out my wavy red hair, thrusting my chest out even more.
‘Well, um,’ I explained, smoothing my hand over the bare flesh exposed on my thigh below my short white silk skirt. ‘None really, I guess. I just got out of school, you see. But I’m willing to learn – eager to learn new things.’ I batted my long, blackened eyelashes.
Bishop McKenzie was small and sort of delicately featured, with a handsome face and slim figure. He wasn’t the stuffy church person I’d expected at all. He looked at my thigh and chest and smiled and said, ‘You’re enthusiastic?’
‘Very!’ I smiled back.
He cleared his throat, refocused his eyes. ‘Typing skills?’
‘I text a lot.’
‘Accounting knowledge?’
‘I get a bank statement every month.’
‘Receptionist duties?’
‘Oh,
