Three to Dance Page 8

  “Good?” he asked softly, reaching out to stroke the soft hair of her Venus mound.

  “Wonderful.”

  “Better than Chinese food?”

  She smiled. “Much better.” She reached out for him. “But you’re not done yet.”

  Going to his knees, he drew a deep breath and shrugged off his shirt. Light blonde hair covered his arms and his chest body was sleek, solid, deliciously muscled.

  She sat up and kissed his chest, running her hands over his hard abdomen. Trailing her fingers across his muscular chest, she circled a dusky nipple. Her hands moved lower, unbuttoning, then unzipping his jeans to free his penis nestling snugly in a thatch of tight pubic curls. His cock sprang free from its cruel confines, straining proud and erect. Reaching down, he wrapped his fingers around his growing erection, teasingly licking his lips and offering it to her.

  “Would you like a treat, little girl?” Closing his eyes, he began to stroke himself, up and down, bringing himself to full hardness. His breathing grew ragged. A tiny drop of semen leaked from its head, glistening in the lamplight.

  She giggled and took over. His cock pulsed in her hand, warm and velvety to her touch. Even when flaccid, it was of an impressive sight, well filling the cut of his trousers and giving the girls something to whisper about. Erect, it was a magnificent length, thick and round. Dipping her head, she began to flick her tongue over the swollen head. Using the perfect pressure, she stroked his cock in a steady motion. She was eager to take him, her pink tongue flicking out of her mouth to lick the pre-cum away from the tip of his penis. The salty taste excited her and she moaned softly, taking him inch by inch into her mouth, sucking ever so slowly to build his tension.

  Scott moaned, taking her head, guiding her lower. “Jesus!” he breathed. “Go deeper.”

  She obliged him by taking the whole of his cock into her mouth. To her credit, she’d learned a long time ago how not to gag when she went down on a man. It was a most impressive sexual trick and many men almost died when she wrapped her lips around the root of their dicks. To tease, she used her teeth to scrape at his sensitive skin; not heavily, using just enough pressure to make sure he felt every sensation.

  Scott’s breathing grew harsh, labored. Kate kept rubbing his slick penis harder, giving him no respite. The friction on his erection grew heated, harder, her secret visions about fucking two men at once progressing.

  “You had better stop,” he warned. “Or I’ll come all over you.”

  She lifted her head. “Wouldn’t want that to happen.”

  Getting up, Scott quickly shucked the rest of his clothes. Rolling onto the bed beside her, he held his cock, stroking it slowly. She watched the large purple head, mouth dry at the thought of feeling him inside her.

  “Last chance to back out,” he whispered, voice hoarse with his own need.

  “No way,” she gasped, hoarse with need. “I want all of you. Inside me. Now.”

  She scrabbled to find the condoms, ripping open the packet with shaking hands. Pulling it out of its wrapper, she expertly positioned it over the tip of his penis, sliding the rubber down his length. As she did, he stroked between her legs, teasing her slit.

  Scott moved back onto his knees. He took great delight in holding his cock over her pussy, fondling himself as he hovered just inches from her. Grabbing onto the headboard, Kate lifted her body until her pussy rubbed against his penis.

  “I can’t wait much longer, baby,” she groaned. The way he was touching himself was making her wild with want.

  Placing the head of his cock against her clit, Scott slowly penetrated her. She watched the space between their bodies grow narrower. The further he went, the more she could feel him throbbing inside her vagina. He placed his arms on each side of her body and leaned into her, moving his hips in a slow rhythm.

  Kate let out a cry and rammed her hips up against his, urging him to drive his cock deeper. Her pussy was sucking at him, greedily drawing him in as her muscles contracted around his length. She hung on to him, scratching hard at the bare flesh of his back.

  “Harder,” she gasped. “Don’t be gentle.”

  Scott started grinding his hips into hers, pounding hard against her clit. His balls rubbed against her ass, ripe and full, ready to burst.

  “I can’t hold it much longer,” he gasped. His eyes were focused on her face. It was clear he was enjoying watching her take her pleasure. Their lips met briefly, tasting each other. She savored her female spice on his lips, his supple tongue tangling with hers.

  “Just a little longer,” she cried out, loving the feel of Scott’s cock pounding into her again and again. As her desire grew, she became more demanding. Her hands moved a bit faster, rougher, spurring him to reciprocate the hot cravings. She moaned and lifted her hips, feeling the tips of her nipples brush against his chest. He slowed his thrust, lowering his head and sucking a nipple into his mouth. Sucking gently at the sensitive tip, he gave one final long thrust. A quake of pleasure thundered through his entire body when he gave himself over to total release. His moans filled the air, his body trembling from the force of his orgasm. Hot semen spilled from the tip of his penis into the protective cover separating their bodies. Teeth gritted, he gasped, struggling to bring his breathing back to a normal level.

  In response, Kate’s whole body began to quake. She felt her pussy muscles clench tight, a flood of cream trickling down her thighs as a primeval growl of pleasure broke from her throat. She came with such force that she nearly blacked out from the pure gratification of it. She lay motionless for a few minutes, struggling to catch her breath as she lay under Scott’s weight.

  “God, that was great,” she heard him say.

  He lifted himself up, giving her a quick kiss. “I agree.” His own breathing was gradually steadying. Reaching down between their bodies, he caught the top of the condom and eased his penis out of her, careful not to spill anything. He made a quick trip to the bathroom, flipping on the light and discarding it.

  Kate made a face. Yuck! That was the bad thing about condoms. Note to self, she thought. Find better birth control. Though the ‘Today’ contraceptive sponge was scheduled to come back into the market in the United States soon, it was still only available for ordering in Canada, and not cheap to import. Also, there was the risk of sexually transmitted diseases. She knew her history, but what about his? Couldn’t exactly ask him for a list of every woman he’d slept with. She hadn’t used the pill for years. Maybe it was time to consider going back on it. Okay. So condoms it was, along with extra spermicidal creams—just in case the damned thing broke. At twenty, she’d had a pregnancy scare, wondering through three long weeks if she was going to have a baby or not. The experience had absolutely terrified her. She hadn’t wanted the baby, if one existed, and had been damned relieved when her period came. A week late, but better late than never. A woman couldn’t be too careful these days.

  She heard the water running, heard Scott rummaging around in the bathroom. Stark naked, he padded back into the bedroom, warm rag in hand. Sitting down, he began to wash her, swirling the warm rag over her breasts, over her stomach, down between her legs. The feel of the rough rag rubbing against her sensitive clit only served to reawaken her desire.

  “Can we fuck again?” she asked, this time not blushing. Body slick with sweat, the scent of her sex filled the air. He had been none too gentle with her tender pussy, but she relished that well stretched feeling. There was some discomfort, but it was muffled, as though it were someone else’s skin.

  Scott gave up the rag and began to rub between her legs with his hand.

  “Giving up celibacy?” he teased, slipping a finger inside her creamy cunt.

  She began to move her hips against his hand.

  “Oh you bet,” she said, writhing with the shivery sensations that began to build under his touch.

  Outside the bedroom, the twins scratched at the door, meowing in vain. Tonight they would not be sleeping on their pillows beside her
head.

  Chapter Seven

  The rest of the weekend passed without incident, and Monday morning came in due time, too early as usual for any human to think of even getting out of bed.

  At seven, Kate got up and got ready for work, dressing herself carefully for her first day at the newspaper. Since she wanted to make a good impression, she put on her nicest work suit, charcoal gray slacks and jacket, white blouse, hose and black pumps. She pinned her curly hair up in a bun, thinking briefly about coloring it. A nice light blonde shade would compliment her pale skin better, she thought. Champagne blonde. No, paler. A sun kissed blonde. She would stop at the store on the way home from work and pick up a kit. Maybe she’d even think about a frost job. At least she had curl enough that she didn’t need a perm.

  Making sure that the cats had plenty of food and water, she locked the door, got in her car and drove to work. The day was dismal, as usual, pouring down tons of rain. The drive across town was about twenty minutes, give or take a few minutes due to morning traffic. She found the employee parking lot, parked, and went into the lobby of the newspaper.

  Inside, the receptionist, who finished the paperwork for her employee file, getting a copy of her driver’s license, which she’d have to change soon, her social security card and her W-4 withholdings from her paycheck, greeted her. It was here that Kate wished that she could claim the cats as dependents. As a single woman, Uncle Sam got a nice chunk of her paycheck every two weeks.

  Guess the government thinks single people don’t deserve to live and have anything, she thought, filling in the form. Now that all the problems with her marriage were in the past, she’d at least be getting a refund next year, instead of having to pay. Thanks to a glitch in the paperwork during their last year of marriage, she and William had ended up owing the IRS a goodly chunk of money. Since William had taken a powder, she’d ended up paying it. That had taken a year in itself to clear. If she ever married again, she was going to keep her checkbook and credit rating separate. Combining accounts and credit histories were the worst mistake she’d ever made in her life. But she wasn’t dumb enough to get caught twice. Once was enough.

  Formalities taken care of, the secretary led her down a long hallway, past the nest of reporters busily working on the day’s stories, and into to the production and sales offices. People were introduced in quick succession. She didn’t remember half the names, but she smiled politely and shook hands with the head of the advertising department and the sales people who would be bringing in the ads she would design for publication in the paper. It was nice to see that people not involved in front office work and meeting the public were dressed casually, jeans and sweaters, some tee-shirts, too. No more stuffy suits and having to dress in the morning. One of the ad designers even had a couple of curlers in her hair and not a smidge of makeup on her face.

  The room where she would be working was filled with six cubicles, each having a computer. PCs, she was glad to see. Not Macs. Her cube was number four, recently vacated. She sat down. The former occupants had left a few traces of their presence. Some silly cartoons, one of a dragon picking his teeth with a lance, the pieces of a knight’s armor scattered around his clawed feet.

  Sometimes the Dragon wins, the caption read.

  How true, Kate thought. There was a pad of old notes. She tore them off and threw them away. Fresh start here. No old ghosts need apply.

  On a shelf above her head were two baskets, one labeled “IN”, the other “PROOFS”. When the sales people had made a sale and had sketched out a rough idea of an ad, a runner dropped it into the “IN” basket. It was her job to turn some bad scribbles and loose text into an actual ad. When she had a version ready, she would print it, then stick it in the “PROOF” basket to be picked up again by the sales people, who would then go over her work, make changes, correct typos, etc… The ad would again come back until it reached the stage where it was deemed perfect. At that point, it was shown to the client for approval. If the client liked it, the ad went to press. If not, it went back to the drawing board. The idea was to do as many ads as fast as possible, filling as many column inches as possible with your work. A designer had to be good, reaching a point where an ad was flawless on first or second print. All bonuses and pay raises were based on that performance. Obviously, you had to work closely with your sales people, be able to interpret their ideas and take their suggestions—without taking criticisms personally. The better the sales people liked you, the bigger and better ads they dropped into your basket.

  Because she was new, her first week was going to be light. Though she’d presented a portfolio of her work at her interview, she had yet to prove herself to her new co-workers. It was going to be a hard, long week.

  Putting her purse in the bottom drawer of her desk, Kate sat down and powered up her computer. The usual icons of the programs she would be using appeared on the seventeen-inch screen. Photoshop, Pagemaker, Illustrator, plus a few others she’d need to create ads. Also included in her collection was the Metro clip art CD-ROMs and the print magazine, also of the same name. The magazines consisted of professionally done ads, cataloged and cross referenced by holidays, subjects, themes, and other useful hints that would help create attractive advertising. With these, a designer could use the ad layout and modify it to fit the client’s needs, sometimes only having to change text. It made the job easy, almost a no-brainer. All art was on the accompanying CDs, most of it in black and white, a few of the more elaborate layouts in color, something she would very rarely need to work in, since the newspaper was a black and white publication.

  A few sales people she’d been introduced to earlier had gamely sent the runners over to drop a few smaller ads, so she set to work, laying out their ideas. An hour later, she had them done. Only one was returned from proofing. A typo to fix, nothing else. Excellent. She might yet hit a home run today. She already knew she was good. Even when she and William were married, she’d continued to work. Good thing, too. It was often her income that paid the bills. William, on the other hand, rarely kept a job for more than a few months. The longest he’d work steadily was nine months. The people had treated him well, paying him a good salary and giving him plenty of time off. He’d repaid them by blowing off showing up on time, often not going in for days. When he did arrive, he was sometimes too inebriated to work. William would often say he quit his many jobs. More truthfully, he was fired. And fired again. It was getting to the point where no one wanted to hire him. Word got out among employers who would work and who was unreliable.

  By the time the first two ads were okayed for print, things were starting to get busy. More assignments were coming in, larger, needing extra detailing that was more time consuming. The paper was a daily and deadlines had to be met by late afternoon or the ad would miss its press time, missing the paper, which would, in turn, piss off the customer.

  Kate worked steadily until lunch. When one of her cube mates tapped her on the shoulder and pointed at the clock, she was astonished to see that four hours had passed without notice. Grabbing her purse, she followed the others down to the break room. There was the usual junky fare; sodas, coffee, vending machines with stale sandwiches and limp salads. It was all outrageously overpriced and hardly worth eating.

  Though she’d rather have bypassed the cafeteria and gone out to eat, she decided it would be rude to blow off her new co-workers. She bought a soda and a salad, picking off the stale veggies and dumping on a liberal amount of Ranch flavored salad dressing. At least that would make it edible.

  Sitting with a few of her cube mates, she made the usual small talk, getting to know the people she would be working with, telling a bit about herself. They talked about ad design, which sales people were easy to please, which would pick over every little details until a person was pulling out their hair in frustration. The women who had families were soon pulling out pictures of their kids. She looked at each politely and made the requisite comments about how cute the children were. Naturally, she pul
led out pictures of the Persians showing them around. This always got a chuckle when she referred to them as her kids. People loved the exotic cats and they were always a good icebreaker in strange crowds.

  The lunch hour went too fast. It always did. After a quick bathroom break, she was right back behind her desk, cup of coffee at her elbow. Since others had music and headsets, she decided to get herself a set, too. She worked better to music, and it allowed designers to escape into their own little world uninterrupted. She glanced up, wishing she had her music now. Her basket was a little fuller. She had obviously pleased the sales people and more ads were coming her way.

  The rest of the afternoon was the blur that hit as deadline approached. As five o’clock neared, she finished her last ad for a local dollar store and printed it. Since she didn’t want to wait for the runner to cruise by and drop it with its sales rep, she carried it over to the woman’s desk herself. The woman, whose name was Sheila, was one of the hardest sales people to please, according to the scuttlebutt at lunch. It was said that Sheila would pick an ad over to the smallest detail, sending an ad back time and time again for the slightest adjustments to an image’s positioning or text wording. The graphic artists all hated her and many cringed when they saw her coming with something for their baskets.

  Kate stood like a little girl in front of Sheila’s desk, waiting for her words. The fact that Sheila’s mouth was turned down into a frown was not encouraging. She was the best saleswoman the paper had, knew how to butter up clients, and could sell ice water to Eskimos. She made the highest bonuses and commissions, but in the interim drove the people around her crazy with her nit-picking perfectionism, which also spilled over into her personal appearance. Hair and makeup perfect, the latest fashionable clothing on her back, heels that must have been sheer torture to put her feet into, she was every inch a professional people person. She had a neon sales smile, shrewd mind and an ability to promise the moon if it would make her sale. Naturally, when it came to her ads, she was a bitchy barracuda and had reduced more than one person to tears with her biting criticisms. The ad designers hated her, wished she would drop dead or otherwise leave them alone. Even now, her yellow marker hovered over the page. Finally, she made one small tick on the page and handed it back to Kate.