I really need to buy my own dildo. “Ooomm…”
The moan tore from my throat, which was stuffed with plastic cock. I gagged, as Cammy shoved the tool in further. I wasn’t all that fond of oral sex, hating to perform it…usually…but the way this woman was forcing it on me, had a peculiar effect. I choked on the length, gagging, as tears flooded my eyes. My nerve endings all but screamed with arousal, which was something I had never experienced before. Lola’s skill with the dildo was not to be underestimated. The tool toyed with my hole, the head popping in and out, making wet, squishing sounds. I knew Mr. Gordon had a direct view of my lower anatomy. He was probably staring right at the spot where the dildo entered. Morbid curiosity had me lifting my head, seeing him looking exactly where I suspected he was. He met my gaze then; an austere look was in his eye.
“Come on, bitch. Eat my cock.” Cammy forced it into my mouth. “Yeah, that’s it. Suck it.”
Lola manipulated the dildo, while her breath lingered over my mound. My body tensed with expectation. I tried to mask the effect they had on me, but I failed, moaning helplessly. Her tongue began to prod my clit, pushing the little nub back and forth. It was too much.
“Oh! Omigod!” I gasped.
“Yeah, Kittycat. You like it, don’t you?” asked Lola.
The stimulation my body endured had me throbbing, gasping, and almost begging for release, as I hurtled closer to the edge of oblivion. There was nothing I could do to stop it. Lola grasped the flattened end of the dildo, pounding my slickened passage, while her tongue laved my clit.
Just as the orgasm hit, I glanced at Mr. Gordon, and, for a breathtaking moment, I felt utterly connected to him. “Oh, God, no…” I groaned, throwing my head back and shuddering, while spasms wracked my body. “Ooohh…” Lola withdrew the dildo slowly. I gazed at the ceiling, my body quivering with the aftereffects of bliss. The women gathered their possessions and left the room without another word. I glanced at Mr. Gordon. “Is something wrong?” His expression revealed nothing.
He stood. “Get dressed. You’re dismissed.”
“Are you firing me?”
His hand was on the doorknob. “No, you’re not fired, Ms. Fox. Just get dressed and get out.” He left the room.
Ugh. That man.
Later that night, after a hot bath, I found myself on my laptop with the television on in the background. I replayed Mr. Gordon’s greatest hits, the Demetril news conference, the interview with CNN, and several brief snippets from things he had said to reporters. The longer I listened, the more I enjoyed the timber of his voice and the articulation of his words. I’d stumbled across photos of him during his college years, looking young and handsome. That detached smile drew me in; the mystery of his persona was utterly intriguing. I had extracted some interesting tidbits from the things his ex-wife had said in interviews.
My husband is a private man.
We rarely vacation together…his schedule won’t allow it.
James prefers tasteful, understated things…
Married for ten years, they had never had children. She knew what he looked like naked. She knew what it felt like to be touched by him. There were pictures of them attending functions together, the happy couple smiling, and his arm around her. Had he treated her with the same cold indifference he bestowed upon me? Did he treat all women like this? Why the hell do you care, Gretchen?
That night I dreamt about him…and the night after. By the time the weekend had arrived, I found myself in my car and parked within sight of the Lake Bluff house, watching…waiting…for what? I must have sat there for three hours, staring at the red brick structure, wondering if anyone was home. A lawn service arrived in the afternoon, and three gardeners clambered out of the truck and began to mow the lawn. They operated a noisy leaf blower afterwards in the driveway. Other than that deafening intrusion, there were no visitors to the house that afternoon. I drove home feeling empty and disappointed.
Work kept me busy, but the evenings were entirely predictable. My laptop was now an extension of my body, always near, and displaying a photo of Mr. Gordon. I counted the days until I saw him again, thinking of what I might say, and what naughty things he would have me do. He seemed to prefer watching lesbian situations, and I was finding those enjoyable as well. The week could not go by fast enough. It was torture having to wait until Friday night. I was ready a good hour before the driver picked me up. I stared out the window of my apartment into a gray, urban sky, watching the street below like a bird of prey. A flash of black had my attention, but my spirits plummeted when I realized it wasn’t the car I was looking for. It would be another twenty agonizing minutes before my phone buzzed.
By the time I arrived at the house, I was a bundle of excited energy, my body buzzing at the thought of seeing Mr. Gordon again. Margaret led me up the staircase, which really wasn’t necessary. I knew where the room was. I stripped as soon as the door closed, throwing the robe on. After using the bathroom, I sat on the bed and waited. To my confusion, I waited a considerable amount of time, so long in fact, that Margaret returned.
“Would you like a drink, Ms. Fox? I have cheese and crackers.”
“Where’s Mr. Gordon?”
“He’s running late.”
My shoulders slumped. “Just water. Thanks.”
“As you wish.”
I sat on the bed, kicking my leg up and down, my excitement diminishing. It would be another hour before the door opened, and, by that time, I had fallen asleep. A hand touched my shoulder, waking me.
“What?” I stared at James Gordon’s face. “Hi.” Holy shit! He actually touched me.
“I’m sorry about the wait.”
I sat up, brushing hair out of my face. “Um…that’s all right.”
“Good. Then we can get started.”
He seemed a little tense tonight, a touch on edge. I watched him carefully, noting the impeccable cut of his black suit and the blueness of his tie. His attention was on the carpet. He avoided looking at me directly, which was a little strange. I fully anticipated several women to walk through the door, and when it finally swung open, I sucked back a gasp. Tonight’s entertainment would not include females. Two tall, muscled men stood in the room wearing nothing but towels around their waists.
Oh, my…oh…wow…
Mr. Gordon took his seat then, staring at me blankly. “Take your robe off.”
I shivered, feeling self-conscious. I let it drop, the silken material floating to my feet. I tried not to stare at the men; their bulk and stature were intimidating. I focused on the bookshelf across the room. Smile for the camera. Say cheese.