Chapter 1
The gorgeous, raven-haired woman sitting across the bar table from Paul Weems raised her goldfish-bowl-sized margarita and clinked its salt-encrusted rim against his.
"Congratulations, Paul," she said, her coal black eyes flashing. "Here's to many, many more."
Paul sipped at his cocktail, his eyes glued to the face of his companion.
"Ummmmmmmn!" she said, as she tasted her drink. She licked her full, sensuous lips, showing him the pointy pink tip of her tongue.
Paul shivered. He couldn't help but imagine that moist, hungry tongue swirling over the bulbous, lust-swollen head of his cock, and as a result of his lewd imaginings, his penis began to throb painfully, surging out to full length down the inside of his double-knit pants leg.
Easy, boy, he told himself. Easy or you're going to blow everything. The woman across the table from him was the wife of his new boss, Merl Santiago, the town's most successful realtor. The two of them had come to the neighborhood bar to celebrate his first sale...and commission. He'd unloaded a real white elephant, a four bedroom, three bath monstrosity that'd been on the market for four months. It was quite a feather in his cap and he knew it, but he hadn't expected to merit a cocktail date with the boss' wife because of it.
Benecia was a realtor, too, a top-notch saleswoman. The reason for her success was obvious: she was one hundred per cent sexual dynamite. At the realty salesmanship seminars Paul had attended, the instructors called it "charisma," or simply "power." It was the ability to take a normal, moderately intelligent, prospective home buyer and turn him or her into so much warm putty. Paul had known all along that it had something to do with sex, but he'd never really understood it until he'd met Benecia. She had a magnificent body, round, jutting breasts, a narrow waist, svelte curving hips, tight-cheeked buttocks and long, tapering legs, and the clothes she wore showed off everything she had to the utmost advantage. The high fashion, European style blouse she was wearing at that moment had immense sleeve apertures that opened on the side all the way to the middle of her torso, so that when she moved her arms as she talked, she kept giving tantalizing glimpses of smooth, shaven armpit, of the womanly swell of the sides of her breasts, of her sleek rib cage. She never wore a brassiere, to Paul's knowledge, but she was not a "bouncer" or a "juggler"; her breasts were far too firm for that. Paul also knew that what Benecia had was more than the sum of her undeniably delectable parts. There was something else, a kind of aura she exuded that hit men right where they lived.
"So, tell me, Paul," she said, reaching across the table and touching the back of his hand with her long, smooth fingers, "how did you do it? How did you manage to pull it off?"
He hardly heard the question. His mind was focused on the warm tingles her gentle stroking caress was sending down the length of his arm and the way they made his cock buck and jerk under the table. He'd wanted her from the first moment he'd seen her and after he'd heard the office scuttlebutt about the "swinging lifestyle" of the Santiago's, he'd set out to get her. If she was available, he was going to have some, come hell or high water. He'd made his first big move on her at an open house party the week before. Though he'd brought his pretty young wife, Kathy, along, he hardly saw her the whole evening. He'd kept Benecia out on the terrace and left Kathy to handle the room full of strange people all alone. The few times he had looked in on her, his boss had her cornered and she looked as if she wanted to bolt and run. Afterwards, though, she hadn't complained to him that the burly man had made any kind of advances to her. Paul wouldn't really have minded if he had. There were things one did for the sake of one's career, sacrifices that had to be made.
"Paul?" Benecia said, tapping his hand to get his attention. "We were talking about your big sale...."
"Oh! Yes, sorry," he said, smiling sheepishly.
"How did you do it?" she repeated. "Come on, tell me. How did you close the deal?"
Paul grinned, despite his intention not to. Again, it had been a case of career over personal preference. He had used his own "power" to turn a ripe, middle-aged woman into so much warm and willing putty.
"Why Paul! What a horribly wicked smile!" she said, delightedly. "If you don't tell me this instant, I'm going to think you did something terribly unethical with that Mrs. Walker."
Paul picked up a tortilla chip and dunked it in the hot sauce, then popped it in his mouth. He crunched it with satisfaction. He had done something "unethical" to Mrs. Walker twice in the same afternoon.
"Don't you trust me, Paul?" she said, pulling her hand back from his. "I thought you trusted me. I thought you and I were going to be very close friends."
"I trust you, Benecia," he said. "And I do very much want to be close with you."
"Then tell me. I know she came back to the office after she and her husband had left the first time. I know you took her back out to the house for a second look. I know that when you came back she was ready to buy at the full asking price. What happened to change her mind so quickly?"
Paul hadn't wanted to tell anyone the secret of his first big success. Or at least, he'd thought he hadn't. He thought he'd be ashamed of what he'd done, but as he began to speak, he was filled with an odd kind of excitement. Perhaps it was the subject matter or the person to whom he was confessing, but the result was enough to make his head swim.
"She and I went back over to the house," he said, playing in the hot sauce with a triangle of tortilla chip. "I had an idea that if I got her alone there, without her hubby around, I could turn her around on the place. As soon as I closed the front door behind us, things got weird."
"Weird?"
"Well, it suddenly wasn't like I was a realtor and she was a prospective buyer," he said, looking up into the dark and smiling eyes across the table. "It was more like I was a snake and she was a mouse."
"Yes, go on."
"I led her around the house, opening cabinets and closets for her, but it wasn't like I was showing the house to her. It was like I was toying with her, teasing her before I...." He paused, pretending to examine the gob of sauce on the end of his chip. His heart was thumping madly, pounding up under his chin as if it wanted to climb right up out of his throat.
"Moved in for the kill?" Benecia suggested, raising her left eyebrow.
Paul nodded. "I hadn't planned on touching her," he went on, rapidly. "Really. I don't know what I was thinking about. One minute we were standing there by the fireplace and I was showing her the damper and the next I was all over her." He shook his head. "I mean, all over! I had my hands under her sweater and under her dress and I was sticking my tongue down her throat, giving her the whole rush."
"How did Mrs. Walker react?" she asked.
Again Paul shook his head. "I wouldn't have believed it," he told her. "That broad went nuts. I mean, she was sucking my tongue and helping me to get into her brassiere and panties. And before I knew it, we were down on the wall-to-wall fuck carpet and I was banging the ass off her."
"Did you take all her clothes off first?" she said, lightly scratching the back of his hand with her long, red nails.
"No," Paul answered, thickly, "there wasn't any time for that. We were both too damn hot. She already had my cock out by that time and it was stiff as a stick. I just sort of shoved the crotch band of her panties out of the way and jammed my way into her pussy."
"Sounds difficult."
He grinned. "It wasn't," he said. "Mrs. Walker was so wet and ready for it that my cock slipped right on in. Man! She went at it like she hadn't had any in ten years. Kept pushing her breasts up in my face for me to suck and bite and practically broke my back with her damn squeezing legs. The second time around it was a lot more mellow."
"Second time?! "
Paul smirked, then stretched proudly. "Yeah, sure. We tried some other positions. There was lots of room in that empty living room. I screwed her from one end of it to the other. Afterwards, she decided she liked the place."
"Sounds like you really earned that commission."
The word "commission" brought Paul back down to earth with a crash. It reminded him of who he was, who she was, and what she could do to him, his career if she wanted to.
"Wow! What am I doing telling you all this dirty stuff?" he groaned.
"Don't you know why you're telling me all this, Paul?" she said, raking the back of his hand with her talons.
"Oww!" he cried, jerking his hand out from under hers.
Benecia leaned across the table towards him. "You're telling me because you're hoping that it'll turn me on as much as it's turning you on, right?"
Before he could reply, her right hand slipped in under the table.
"Oh!" Paul exclaimed, as something warm groped between his legs, giving his penis a hard squeeze.
"I am hot, Paul," she told him, staring right into his eyes as she rubbed the straining length of his cock under the table. "Let's go back to the office and make love, quick."
She knew what to do, all right. She knew how to handle a man's cock. There was none of the butterfly light touch that was used by so many supposedly experienced women Paul had known; her grip on his meaty erection was tight, almost painfully so, and she worked it right through his pants, making the loose outer sheath of his cock skin slide up and down the rock-hard inner bone. The slow, rhythmic, milking caress was so delicious that it made Paul's eyes narrow to slits.
"You're not worrying about that little wife of yours, are you?" she asked, pinching the head of his cock teasingly.
"No, baby, I'm not," he said truthfully. Kathy was a pretty girl with a great little body on her, but a Miss Goodie Two Shoes when it came to anything out of the ordinary in sex. He had no doubt that she wouldn't understand his need to fuck Benecia or Mrs. Walker, for that matter. Kathy was terribly niave. He had long since stopped trying to explain things to her. She couldn't seem to get it through her provincial little head that a person had to do more than just "work hard" to get ahead in the world, that there were concessions that had to be made. This particular "concession" to the wife of his boss was not going to be hard to make and he knew that if he satisfied her, it couldn't hurt his career one bit. There was one problem, though. "I'm worried," he went on, "about your husband. He was still at the office when we left. What if he's still there when we get back?"
Benecia released his cock and pushed back from the table. "Merl," she said, "is nothing for you to worry about, darling. He doesn't mind what I do. We have an 'arrangement.' Shall we go?"