Chapter 1
Everything was going so perfectly it was almost scary. Mandy was aware of the cab driver's glances in the mirror as he drove. Did he suspect that she'd run away from home? She tried to remember that she had to act confident. She was twenty three, not nineteen. Who would know the difference? And after all, running away from home at nineteen...no, twenty three wasn't any big deal. Besides, she already had a job waiting for her and reservations at the Central Hotel in downtown Bay City. No one was going to say anything. In this bustling city, no one would give her a second look. But what was that driver looking at?
"Central Hotel," he said, pulling to the curb. "Not the ritziest joint in town, but not the worst either." While Mandy fumbled in her purse, he leaned an arm against the back of his seat and watched her, his jaws working a big piece of gum. "Where you from, anyhow?"
"Out of town." Mandy was trying to think of how much to tip a cabdriver. She'd never had that problem in Haysville. Haysville didn't even have one cab.
"You know, if I had a chick like you working with me, we could make a killing."
"I beg your pardon?" Mandy pushed a lock of blonde hair off her cheek and looked at the man. He had quick, clever eyes and an easy smile.
"You could make five hundred a day, easy."
"Five hundred?"
"Dollars baby. You know, bucks." His eyes scanned her again. "Hell, I could line you up with some John in less than an hour from right now. You need some extra cash?"
"I certainly don't know what you're talking about." Mandy pushed a ten dollar bill at him and got out. The driver came around and got her bag out of the trunk. He was digging her change out of his pocket when Mandy grabbed her suitcase and started away.
"Hey, you gave me too much."
"You can keep it."
"Naw, you'll need it worse than I will." The driver took her arm and forced a few bills into her palm. "How old are you, anyway?"
"Twenty three," Mandy said. She wished she'd told him it was none of his business.
"Twenty three, huh? Like hell. More like eighteen or nineteen."
"Would you let go of my arm please?" Mandy realized she was almost as tall as the man. For once in her life, she didn't feel self conscious because of her size.
"Jesus Christ," the cabby said, shaking his head. "I know a couple of big shots that would pay one fifty, maybe two hundred for a go at you."
Mandy's cheeks reddened. She was getting the drift of things now. "Let go of me!"
"Here, take my card. You never know when a young girl needs a friend in the big city."
Mandy took the card just to get rid of the man. She hurried into the hotel and put her bag down in front of the desk. She was so flustered, she almost couldn't remember her name.
"Mandy Jameson. I've got a reservation."
When at last she was alone in her room, Mandy looked at the small white card with just a man's name and phone number on it. She almost threw it away. Something made her stick it into her purse.
"My first memento of the city," she said, lifting an eyebrow. "I guess a girl really has to watch out for herself around here."
Mandy started a bath running and hung her clothes up to get the wrinkles out. She had an appointment with her new employer in three hours. She wanted to freshen up from her bus ride and put Haysville behind her. She wondered if her folks would be worried when they read her note.
Stripping slowly in front of the mirror, Mandy thought of what the cabby had said to her. Instead of being angry now, she felt flattered. He had actually been propositioning her! Did she look that good?
"I guess I do," she sighed, turning sideways and arching her back so that her tits rose high and firm on her chest. They weren't humongous, but they were nice and round with little pink tips that sometimes got firm and tingly. They were firm and tingly now. Mandy ran the flat of her hand down her belly and out over the gentle curve of her hips. The small triangle of fluffy blonde curls didn't quite cover her cunt. Her hips weren't overly wide, but her ass was delicately rounded and jutted out in a sweeping curve from the small of her back. Her legs were long. Very long, very graceful. Except when she was walking or running. Then they took on a coltish, slightly awkward look. Mandy hadn't quite learned how to manage them yet. Her blue eyes sparkled as she rubbed a finger back and forth across the bridge of her short nose. "Darn freckles."
She opened a drawer to put away some panties and her mind froze, her eyes opening wide in shock as she looked at the glossy cover of the magazine lying there. Quickly, Mandy slammed the drawer shut and put her undies in the next drawer over. Her mind whirled. She was dizzy and short of breath. She realized more than ever just how sheltered a life she had led up to this point. Her preacher father and her busybody mother had forbidden her to so much as think a wrong thought. She had never in her life imagined that such magazines existed.
Gingerly, she opened the drawer again. "Oh, god in heaven." But this time she didn't slam it shut. Her body felt so odd. Her cunt was itchy and the wetness had started to seep out, darkening her pussy curls, matting them together. The young girl on the cover was sucking a man's cock! The full color picture was enlarged to show the tiniest details. Like a droplet of saliva leaking from the corner of the girl's mouth. And other things too terribly wicked to think about.
Mandy had never in her life seen a cock. But even in this picture, she couldn't see much. The girl had most of the prick inside her mouth. Mandy was panting now, shocked but fascinated. She pressed her thighs together instinctively and the pressure against the satiny flesh of her cunt made her moan softly.
Using a pencil, Mandy turned to the first page. The same girl, the same cock. But this time Mandy could see the whole, incredible length of the prick. The girl, who couldn't have been more than her own age, was using the tip of her tongue against the head. It amazed Mandy and made her tremble. It was flared out into a streamlined barb that was much darker than the rest of the man's shaft. It was dark like a bruised plum. It glistened with spit. The girl's tongue looked so soft. The man's cock looked so hard.
"I don't believe this," Mandy gasped, using the pencil eraser to turn another page. Again, she almost slammed the drawer shut. But she didn't. She stared instead at the picture of the young girl sprawled on her back on a bed, her knees bent and open. With a glistening forefinger, the girl touched herself. Touched a little lump of flesh that nestled , between the plump lips of her cunt. Her face had a dazed, heavy lidded look to it. As if she were experiencing the most wonderful pleasure. The other fingers of her hand were cocked back daintily so that just that one finger touched her slippery nub.
A tingle went through Mandy. She had one of those nubs, too. But her mother had given her a lecture when she was a very young girl. Not in any circumstance was Mandy ever to touch herself. And especially not that little nub. For nineteen years, Mandy had obeyed. But sometimes in the night, she awoke all hot and shivery. And she knew it had something to do with that little nub. Often, as the dream trickled through her half conscious mind, she would squirm her pussy lips down against the mattress and a lovely, weightless feeling would come over her. Then a sharp, almost unbearable pleasure would knife through her suddenly and she would writhe uncontrollably until sleep finally took her again. In the morning, she had always told herself it was a silly dream. That nothing had really happened at all. But her panties were always damp, clinging tightly to her swollen cunt after such a dream. Mandy had never had the courage to mention the phenomenon to her mother.
But the girl in the magazine was doing exactly what Mandy had been warned not to do. The girl was exciting herself like the dream had excited Mandy. She was intentionally bringing on the pleasure Mandy's mother had told her to avoid. Mandy quickly turned the page.
The girl was shown in another pose, her finger still dipping into the plumpness of her cunt. But another figure entered the photograph. The man again, visible only from the waist down. The girl's free hand was holding his cock as he seemed to be lowering himself towards her. On the facing page, the man's cock was closer to the girl's cunt. But her finger was still pressing that little nub. Her face was twisted in an agony of pleasure.
Mandy's legs were shaking now. She was breathing hard and fast. And she felt a hot trickle of juice leak down the inside of her thigh. When Mandy saw what was on the next page, she slammed the drawer shut, almost pinching her finger.
"I do wish they'd clean up the rooms better when somebody moves out." Talking to herself, Mandy went into the bathroom and turned off the bath water. She was outwardly angry at the pervert who'd occupied her room before her. Another part of her mind was trying to reconstruct what might have happened. Though it was silly, she was imagining that the girl in the magazine had stayed there, had done those very things right on her bed.
Mandy was in the water now, splashing her tits, rubbing soap between her fingers. It was an unconscious impulse that made her rub lather across her nipples. Usually, she squeezed water from a washrag over them to avoid any unladylike behavior. But this touch, this soapy friction made her groan as her clit throbbed under the hot water. Yes, that was what the girls at school called it, Clit.
"Ohhh, my," Mandy sighed, soaping her tits again. It felt too good to stop. And after all, there wasn't really anything wrong with a girl washing her own tits. It was odd how her mother had always made her feel that it was.
By now her nipples were darker and longer and much more sensitive. She lay back in the tub, letting her long, lanky body float upwards. Her cunt mound broke the surface. She lay a hand casually across one thigh, a fingertip dangerously close to the spot where the girl in the magazine had touched herself, her pussy!
"No, it's wrong." Yet even as she said this, Mandy realized she was no longer under the influence of her parents. She was grown up, on her own, in her own hotel room. In a little bit, she'd go to meet her first employer. She was going to be a secretary, going to make her own money and her own decisions. Her long, thin finger moved a bit closer to the blonde curls of her cunt mound.
"I shouldn't...I'd better not." She pulled her hand away and quickly sat up. She finished her bath as quickly as possible, pulled the plug and stood on the bathmat, rubbing herself dry. But she was trembling like a leaf. Her mind was flooded with the images she'd seen in that damned magazine. Images of fucking and sucking.
Sitting on her bed, Mandy shook baby oil onto her palm and rubbed her legs. She worked the oil into her skin, pretending to be occupied with this simple chore. But the slick feel of the oil on her fingers had other things going through her head. She saw that her cunt was more swollen that normal. Her clit already pooched out a little. And it looked a bit dry. Mandy dumped more oil onto her fingertips and took a deep breath.
Twice she withdrew her touch before the contact was made. A droplet of baby oil fell against her clit and just the sight of it spreading made Mandy shiver. She was afraid that the first touch might be the beginning of the end. She was ready to feel some awful, heavy guilt descend upon her.
Until at last she could resist the temptation no longer. Her hips were already squirming as she pressed three oily fingers up against her cunt and rubbed them up and down.
"Yuuuhhhh," she groaned, the sudden thrill taking away her breath. She hadn't expected anything quite so intense. Her hips rocked from side to side as she massaged the oil into her dainty pink flesh. Her cunt folds bloomed outward as she rubbed. She was getting very spongy now and very hot. The oil made slick, sexy sounds as she worked it into the deeper crevices of her pussy.
"Pussy," she sighed, letting the strange word linger on her lips. She'd heard the term but never in her life said it out loud. A girlfriend had told her that men liked to call a girl's cunt a pussy. Mandy let her middle finger dive down along the length of her pussy. There were lots of little folds and bumps and hot places. She caressed herself again like this, letting her fingertip glide along the oil slickened flesh, feeling her body respond to this gentle stimulation. It was heavenly! Was this what her mother had warned her against? Was there some hidden evil in touching your own pussy?
"Maybe I should stop." But when she tried to withdraw her fingers, Mandy found she had lost the willpower to quit exciting herself. And she was getting excited. Very excited.
"Ohhhhh, god...." she panted, flopping back on the bed, her heels hooked on the edge of the mattress, knees bent. She realized she was in almost exactly the same position as the girl in the magazine. She tried to mimic what she remembered, her forefinger pointed delicately, her other fingers curled back. Her toes pointed. Her knees spread.
"Uhhhhh," she moaned, her head swaying. Blonde hair fell across her eyes. Her chest heaved. Oh, why did it feel so good? It was really too good to stop now. Her fingers had a life of their own, sliding, searching over the oily, swollen surfaces between the lips of her cunt. "Mmmmmmm!"
Now Mandy was aware of a different smell in the air. It was musky, her own sex perfume that the excitement was causing. She moved her hips forward and back, her narrow back arching up from the bed, then humping down into the mattress as she forced her cunt upward. By now she was almost clawing at the overheated flesh. Her pussy throbbed, flaming with an itchy pleasure she'd never before experienced. It was an exhilarating, mind blowing pleasure. And it never for a moment stayed the same. It just kept getting better!
"Ohhhhh, I can't stand it much longer! Ohhhh, I never knew it would be like this...."
The bed thumped as her ass danced up and down. She concentrated on her clit now. It seemed the most sensitive place of all. Her fingers circled and probed. She squeezed her clit between thumb and fingertip. She fanned it with all the fingers of her hand as if she were strumming a guitar. The juicy, squishy sounds made her buck. She was having a hard time breathing now. Her eyes went out of focus.
"Whhhuuhh, ohhhhhh, god!"
An exquisite pain went through her cunt. No, it wasn't pain. It was just something so good that it hurt a little bit. She rolled her hips violently, her fingers hurrying to catch the tickle that was driving her mad. She caught it. Suddenly, her body whipped around as if she were being electrocuted. She kicked and squalled, her ass lurching, pumping, plunging. She couldn't scratch the tickle hard enough. Mandy thought for a moment that she'd gone too far. She was going to die of some forbidden sexual act. She was going to die in the throes of some erotic fit that was too powerful for such a young girl to live through.
"Ohhh, ouch, woweeeee."
Her body twisted with the contortions of ecstasy. She smeared baby oil up and down her cunt as her slim hips beat the bed. She was drooling now, her pulse beating loudly in her ears. She breathed like it might be her last moment of life. Her belly sucked in under her ribs as tremors of pleasure went through her loins.
At last she lay exhausted, her long, thin arms thrown out, her legs open wide so that one foot dangled off the bed. She stayed like that for a long while, breathing deeply and steadily while her mind tried to explain the unexplainable. How could anything ever feel that good? And this time she hadn't dreamed anything. She'd made it happen herself.
When she sat up, she began to feel guilty. Had she sunk to some awful depths of wickedness? She thought of the girl in the magazine. A girl who would suck a man's cock. The kind of girl who might accept the offer the cabby had made. Mandy wasn't that type of girl at all. She felt horrible now. The sight of her oily fingers made her wince.
"I don't have time to get all worked up. I've got an interview." She jumped from the bed and made her way unsteadily to the dresser. She couldn't goof up now. Her future as an independent young woman depended on this job. Quickly, she began to dress.
"You can sit over there, Miss Jameson," the man told her. He was on the tall side, with a trim, well cared for body and craggy good looks. Mandy guessed he was something just over forty. He was her new boss, Mr. J.W. Waltham. But she was a bit confused. It appeared that she'd be working here, at his house. He had a fully equipped office with a secretary already stationed outside. Mandy began to wonder what her own duties might be.
"I read your references carefully, Mandy. You don't mind if I call you Mandy?" Of course she didn't. "You can stay here in my house if you'd like. There's a room upstairs. It might be better since I'll be needing you at odd times of the night and day."
"I see."
"I'm in the investment business. I'll be expecting you to take care of personal details that I don't have time for. Take calls, reply to personal mail. Do a favor or two when someone flies in from out of town."
"I see," Mandy repeated. She really didn't understand at all. But Mr. Waltham was explaining.
"You see, I mix business with pleasure very often. I'll take a client out to eat and we talk over business matters there. These clients are often alone. And they're very appreciative of a little feminine companionship."
"Oh."
"You'll be treated royally, I can assure you." He came around the desk. "You can consider such duty like you might a date back in your home town. Just be there for some lonely man to talk to. You'd be surprised how much better the wheels of business turn when a man has a pretty girl at his side."
Mandy rose and let her new boss take her hand. She was trembling with the newness of all this. She'd thought only of an eight to five desk job when she'd sent her application and picture. Now she understood why Mr. Waltham wanted the picture. It made her nervous.
"I'll show you your desk," he said. "And please call me Jimmy." He squeezed her hand. "I insist."
"Yes, Jimmy," she said, her voice unsteady. She followed him through a paneled door. The small room next to his own office was more fitting for a queen than a young secretary. A plush rug, expensive art hung around here and there, even statuary. There was a long, leather couch, large enough to sleep on, a few more chairs in matching decor.
"I hope this will do."
"It's lovely. I hope I live up to your expectations."
"I'm sure you will." Jimmy gave her hand one last squeeze. "A word of warning about my son. You'll see him around. He's not worth much and he'll probably try to waste your time. Just remember your only duties are to me. You don't have to be nice to him just because he's the boss's son."
"Yes, sir," Mandy said, trying to take all this in.
"Call me Jimmy. Remember?"
"Yes, Jimmy." Her boss leaned forward quickly and kissed her temple. Mandy didn't know what to do, so she did nothing. But the soft, lingering kiss went straight down her body. It was almost as if her cunt had been kissed. She tried to hide the way her breathing had gotten so ragged and wild.
"And I'll let you decide whether you want to stay here or elsewhere. Think about it."
"For the time being, I'll keep my room at the hotel," she said.
"As you wish."
On her way out of Jimmy's office, she caught a look from the secretary. It wasn't especially a nice look. Mandy saw envy in it. She couldn't understand why. The tawny, dark haired girl looked like a movie starlet. Her satin dress fit her like sin itself, and Mandy felt a little dowdy by comparison. Jimmy introduced the girl as Tanya. He called her his right arm.
In the hallway outside, he leaned close to whisper into Mandy's ear. "You'll be my left arm, you see." Mandy had the funny feeling that this rich and powerful man was a little crazy.