A Fucking Investment Ch. 14

Now I blushed. Somehow her frank compliment pierced my social shield and pricked my pride, leaving me breathless. I shifted my eyes from her cool brown eyes but not far, just down to her finely shaded red lips. I did not even get to her tits before my scanner jammed. Her hair was pinned up; I am sure there is some name for the style but for me, all it did was hide its length and expose the regal lines of her neck. I imagined touching those lines with my lips. My cock throbbed.

"I am young, I admit it. Do you hold it against me?" I studied her lips, wishing she would, hold them against me I mean.

She shook her head. "Not if you can genuinely do what Mr. Crowley promised."

I nodded. I felt the vibration in her voice, the urgency. There was a story, I thought but I dared not ask. It was only then that I realized that unlike the rest of the world, her voice perfectly matched her appearance, her manner, her square, elegant shoulders...I found myself waxing rhapsodic and that made me blush. To deflect her detection of my distress, I fished my phone out of my coat pocket and found the picture of Mrs. Simpson.

"Here. She, she is available." I held the phone across towards her.

She had taken the gadget from my hands, touching her fingers to mine when the waiter appeared so she could not respond. I felt the tension of awaiting for her approval. Well, that was my conscious label. In reality I felt the zing of that first physical contact and lust roared in me like a tsunami, filling my ears. I glanced around as the waiter waited, expecting to see the place shaking in a movie version of pending disaster.

Nothing.

"Do you wish to order?"

Mrs. Grayson kept her eyes on the phone pic. "Order for us, why don't you, Mr. Gale?"

I was unfamiliar with the menu and the fellow did not show any inclination to leave so I fumbled through the listing and ordered the special, a northern Italian basil pasta with capers and chicken and asked him to bring the right wine to match. He left us.

Mrs. Grayson looked up at me. "She is beautiful. I, I am embarrassed to ask this but, oh my, perhaps I shouldn't." She seemed uneasy and that made her uneasier. She looked up at me, her distress apparent in her eyes.

"Please, ask anything. I, have lots to hide but I will answer what I can." I had been about to claim total transparency but such claims almost always proved both false and foolish. I was no politician and such claims presume to fulfill some hope of knowledge without knowing what was sought. Foolish.

She nodded. "Okay. Please don't be insulted. I...no, let me ask it this way. Why are you offering such a beautiful, clearly sexy woman to my son? Am I to believe that you are not, uh, having sex with her?"

Suddenly I relaxed. Just like that I was shunted back into the world of the Holdingsfield twenty and for a brief, energizing moment, I reveled in that world, its reality and the promise it yet held for me. The shudder in my bones vanished.

"I would not presume that if I were you. I, I have a number of women who would be pleased to introduce your son to the joys of heterosexual sex. If she is not appropriate...."

"Oh, no, I told Crowley I wanted a blond woman, a woman as different from me as can be. He recommended this woman. He said, he said she was built to...uh, for sex, for making love."

I could not help it. I laughed. I doubt Crowley ever said "making love" in his blunt life. "I imagine that you heard his voice and imagined I would look like he sounds. Trust me, he looks just like he sounds." I smiled, increasingly at ease before her sudden and charming unease. I felt both pleasure and amazement. "Very much like you, looking as you sound, I mean."

Mrs. Grayson smiled, gently. She switched off the phone and lay it down on the table. I did not reach for it.

When she did not speak, I did.

"I have several other women who would be available, perhaps not immediately, who are different from you. An Indian woman who could offer a belly dance that would seduce Buddha himself. A Japanese woman, in form only, inside she is all American and sounds like it if she wishes. Or I have a access to a wondrous redhead but, uh, she doesn't like flying."

Mrs. Grayson tapped the phone. "No, oh no, she is perfectly fine. Better than fine. She, I fear she is too beautiful and he will never believe she is interested in seducing him."

"I am sure he would get over that."

"I cannot have him know I arranged this. I..."

Her hand still lay over the phone. I reached out and patted it, feeling her firm, cool skin. The contact raced through me, tingling from fingertips to cocktip in a New York minute.

"I am sure he would be mortified. I would be, if it were me. Once you have gotten a bra or two off, the anxiety changes and you can focus on what was underneath it, the bra I meant. I believe Mrs. Simpson could manage to seduce him to that point in a weekend."

"Tonight?"

I pulled back my hand. "That is fast."

"It is a holiday at his college. I have plane reservations and a hotel. I gave him a package to pamper him. He never lets me do anything for him but this once, he let me. I want to do more, a little more." She moved the hand from the table to cover her mouth. "Oh, my, is this a good idea? It is hardly a small thing I am plotting." She suddenly seemed genuinely mortified by her own conceptions.

I waited, not speaking because I had no thought at all. I did understand my opinion did not matter so expressing it would contaminate the moment.

"I told him I had to be gone this weekend and he was going to go back to school but I got him to agree to spend his weekend at The Rotunda. I have her booked to arrive tonight. He likes to prowl places late at night, after the crowds are gone. I thought, I think she could find him easily and pick him up. Is she that way? I mean...my goodness, you said Mrs. Simpson?"

I nodded, aware aliases were usual. Not my girls, I thought. "Yes." I counted on Crowley to be able to stalk stalkers and put them back in their boxes with some lingering reminder to leave my girls alone.

"She's married? I mean what does her husband think...?"

"Do you want the details? I have them."

The food arrived and while the meal unfolded, she stared at me. When the wait staff left, she sat looking at me. Finally she nodded.

"I want to know everything. I, I am having second thoughts about whether this is a good idea or not."

Where to start? What to tell, what to leave out?

Finally I launched into the telling of how I came into possession of my Holdingsfield women. I recounted seducing Valerie, then Liza. I mentioned Vidya but then found myself engaged in a detailed description of Eve Sawyer and her adventures with Swallow, Shallow I mean. Before I finished eating I was telling about the Sawyers. By then, I had explained the terms of the contracts.

Something about her made this woman easy and luscious to talk to. Unburdening myself to this sensuous stranger felt risky and that made it exciting. I, I truly had no designs on her body though I was flushed with lust for her. I had not even considered her as anything but an object of art I could gaze at but never touch, like a Monet in the National Gallery. I had the money to own such things but I had consciously avoided it so they remained special and distant. I could still draw near to them and they would touch me, an experience I lost with ownership. I smiled to myself, with the Holdingsfield women it was just the opposite, I was touched more by ownership. So Mrs. Grayson seemed to me, forever beyond consideration, beyond my grasp and out of my reach. That made me shiver with appreciation and desire.

It seems absurd but that set of mind allowed me to relax. She was older than the women of Holdingsfield and that seemed to reassure me and she was an active listener. The sensual content of my speech did not seem to rattle her. She listened and asked for details till I found myself describing having sex with Shallow in the elevator, then over the back of the car. We both laughed together.

We had dessert and I told her about Mrs. Simpson, how I had had her the first time, my mind on Vidya and how Jennifer came to be living in my house. We had port with the flourless chocolate tort and it blended the tastes together with the presence of this woman.

I had just begun discussing Jeri Lewis and her conundrum when Victoria laid a hand on my elbow.

"I, I am fascinated but, but I have the flight for five, for Jennifer. Perhaps, perhaps we should arrange that before you go on?"

Her gentle reminder of the nature of our meeting goaded me out of the flush of my story. My cock was hard with memory, filled to the erotic rim. "Of course. I..." I was about to offer her the chance to meet Jennifer when she interrupted me, voicing my own thought. That thrilled me itself.

"I would like to meet her, if that is possible. We have a little time. It is nearly one-thirty. Can she be ready to go in time?"

"Of course." I got the check and she let me. We stood waiting for my car and I suddenly felt the vital strangeness of her presence, suddenly willing to leave with me.

"I, I have to tell you something about Mrs. Simpson. I, I am in a bit of a conundrum and I think I should tell it to you. I, I think it will make her careful and unsure and that, in a woman, sometimes makes a young man confident."

Mrs. Grayson laughed, a full laugh that shook her. She was still chuckling when she entered the car from the other side. "A young man? Just how old are you, anyway, Mr. Gale?"

"I am under thirty but old enough to order wine." I said.

She chuckled again. She waved a hand at me as I maneuvered into traffic and turned the leased Jag towards home. Home. What a concept.

I told her about Jennifer, in very minimal terms, John Sawyer's role and his three part story about what he wanted and how he thought to put his wife beyond my lustful clutches. I told about the reason I put the cameras in my own house, blaming Jennifer for it all because she was so eager to be offered to a virgin son. It was Jennifer's fantasy to be a virgin boy's first encounter with pussy.

"That is why I think this will work out for both of them."

Mrs. Grayson agreed. On her agreement, I called Jennifer and told her to get ready to board an airplane as part of our Virgin Services. She squealed and hung up on me.

"But there is something else, something that makes you reserve judgment on the wisdom of this." Mrs. Grayson made it sound like a statement, not the question it should have been.

I nodded. I told her what the cameras saw. We pulled into the development as I finished recounting the story. Mrs. Grayson listened the whole time but when I turned off the car in front of the house she just sat staring out the front of the car.

"Still think this is a good idea?" I asked.

She snapped out of her reverie and looked over at me. "I, yes, of course. I think Mrs. Simpson is the perfect woman to seduce Clayton. I, I just, I am aroused by the idea that you can seduce these women and keep them in thrall to your..." she laughed nervously, "...to your cock." She looked at me like she had just sprayed spit on my glasses, aroused and apologetic at the same time.

I had stopped in the circle drive, assuming that I would be taking Jennifer to the airport and Mrs. Grayson back to her hotel. "We best get going. Time will be short."

"Call her a taxi." Mrs. Grayson said. "I, if you don't mind, I would like to spend a little more time with you." She looked at me and smiled a bleak smile that mystified me, though I don't know what I expected from a woman arranging her own son's seduction. "You are easy to talk to and it seems that you are sexual beyond your years. Youth is not being wasted on you, young man." She nearly giggled.

The delight laced in her voice felt like approval and invitation pending but as yet unspoken. I had hope and it buzzed in me like and unanswered phone.

I called the taxi, thrilled at this change of plans. That done, I got out of the car and walked to the front door. I noticed the red bra as soon as I rounded the end of the car. It was hanging by a shoulder strap, a steak knife though it, stuck in the wooden door, pinning a piece of paper and the bra strap to it. I stopped before it, staring.

Mrs. Grayson laughed. "Does this happen to you often?"

I pulled the steak knife loose and tossed it into the shrubs, folding the bra cups into each other, holding it in one hand. The paper was folded three times. I opened it and it read, "I'll sign your contract now, tonight." It was signed, "Cassie."

Cassiopeia Angorra, I knew the name. One of the women of Holdingsfield had taken matters into her own hand. I opened the door and stepped into the foyer. I saw Jennifer standing on the stairs. Her face was streaked with tears.

"Oh god, Mr. Gale, Joshua, I, I..." She burst into tears.

I consciously left the door ajar behind me and moved towards Jennifer. She dissolved completely as she rushed down the stairs, a cataract of weeping, tears, and shivering blond. She buried her face in my shoulder, ramming into me with her plush agony. Before I could speak, it all gushed out.

"He came while you were gone. I, I have been trying to tell you. I am so ashamed, so, so, so...." She could not finish but shook with new sobs, pressing her face into my chest.

Behind me, I heard the door close softly and I knew I had a witness but dared not look away from Jennifer for she would surely feel my inattention. I feared such a breach of etiquette would unhinge her.

"What is wrong? What, what is the matter?" Despite the fact that I had a clear idea of what the matter was, I thought it far better to ask then to sympathize too quickly. Confession is good for the soul, so the saying goes.

Jennifer hitched and grunted as she regained control of herself, her face scorched with pain. "I, I fucked him. I did. I mean, no, he, he came in the night, while you were gone. He, he grabbed me from behind and whispered that he was going to fuck me, that I was going to come like I had never come before. He demanded that I tell him to stay...and I did!" Her voice ran up the register again and new tears flooded down her cheeks.

I held onto the woman, strangely aroused, but confusedly so because I thought I could solve this problem but had little idea about what Jennifer's reaction would be. At this point, I still assumed she was overwrought about having been assaulted in my house. That I thought I understood.

"Joshua, I am so sorry. I, I told him to stay. I, I begged him to fuck me. I, he grabbed me and tied me and blindfolded me and then asked me to beg for it, to be fucked till I orgasmed. And I did...!" Her voice again descended into whining sobs. "I did! Both!" She clung to me like wind tore at her and threatened to carry her away to Oz or some place far more horrible.

"Jennifer, Jennifer..." I soothed as best I could, then hit on the precisely correct way to halt this cataract. "We have company, Jennifer, please stop crying."

She seemed not to hear over powered by her own internal drama. "I, I have to tell you, I have been so ashamed. You, I am yours but, but I, when he, when he took me, I came, oh god, Joshua I came so hard and so often. I felt, I felt like electricity ran through me. I was terrified but he asked so nicely and when, when, when he said he'd go unless I asked him politely to, to, to fuck me, I did. Oh Joshua, I liked it. I, I am so ashamed, I wanted him to fuck me. You had been gone a week and after your accident, I was so aroused and I, I, god I wanted him to fuck me and when he did, I came and came and came and now, now all I dream about is him fucking me, taking me from behind and on my back and I was tied up and all I could do was feel his cock sliding into me and his lips on my boobs and his hands, his hands were everywhere but I feel them always on my ass while he fucked me, ramming his cock into me, and I, I, I liked it. I loved it!" She finally ran out of breath and gasped for air, sounding like a physical cock blocked her rather than the rush of her confession.

The woman shuddered and finally I realized it was not with revulsion but with a curious sense of guilt I had not comprehended quite yet. Jennifer pushed me back, looking up into my eyes.

"Mr. Gale, I came with him. I wanted what he did to me. I dream about it and wish, wish for it! I am so ashamed! I have betrayed you. I am yours and when another man came to take me, I gave myself to him without hesitation, pleading with him to give me what I had reserved for your control, for your dispensation." She shuddered.

Dispensation? I hardly knew what that word meant and this blubbering blond was bandying it around as though...I let that thought skip away. I was saved though.

Jennifer suddenly stiffened. "Oh! Oh my!" She exclaimed, her eyes over my shoulder. "I am so sorry, oh my god!" She hid her face in her hands and backed away from me. She turned to flee upstairs but I caught her by the arm.

"Stay. Stay. I have to show you something." I glanced back at Mrs. Grayson. "This is Mrs. Victoria Grayson. She, she is here to purchase your services. She, she wants you to seduce her son."

Jennifer went still. She lifted her face. She looked at me and then she was weeping piteously again.

I looked back and Victoria. The woman rolled her eyes and shrugged.

"Jennifer? Jennifer?" I asked, real concern in my tone. The blond woman ignored me. "Jennifer, stop weeping this instant!" I said resorting to a hard, tight voice.

She twitched once, her body jerked as if she'd been physically struck. She lifted her head and straightened her shoulders, pushing her breasts out to me. With only a couple more gasps, she stopped weeping.

"Do I need to delay the flight?" Mrs. Grayson asked.

I considered for a moment. "Are you packed, Jennifer?"

She nodded, tears still rolling down her face. She licked her lips and nodded again. "I can leave soon." A hand swept tangles of blond hair away from her face and she dabbed at her cheeks with a tissue. "I must look awful."

Mrs. Grayson said the perfect thing. "Keep that look, my dear. My son, he is a gentle soul and will respond to a woman in distress." She took out her own phone and showed it to us. "This is Clayton. He is a distressed virgin and I want you to seduce him into your bed. You present condition would be perfect, at least useful in such an endeavor. If, I mean, if you feel up to it?"

Jennifer looked from me to the woman and back again. "You mean, you mean you will still let me, let me go? Even though, even though this other man..."

"...made you come?" I finished for her. For a moment, I considered showing her the film of her illicit fuck, but something told me to leave well enough alone. Her distress, it seemed stemmed not from being attacked but from enjoying it, not from enduring a rape but from betraying me by coming with a man who took from her what only I should have provided.

"Is this what has made you so morose lately? You felt upset that you came while you were being raped?" I could not keep the incredulity from my voice.

Jennifer's face registered shock. "I was, I was raped?" She shook her head. "You aren't angry? You aren't going to put me out, send me back to my husband and never fuck me again?"

I shook my head immediately.

She threw herself at me, crushing me in a hug then kissing my neck and chin while she humped her pussy against my leg. "Oh thank you, thank you, thank you! Mr. Gale, I am your sex object and I swear I will never come with another man, ever!"

I pushed her away and slapped her across the face. The woman could not have looked more shocked. She touched her red cheek, my hand imprint on it. "I order you to come every chance you get when I give you away, when I sell you to be used. When you come, when you thrash in orgasm, you validate that man inside of you. I forbid you to avoid orgasms with other men." I felt foolish, like I was parroting some stupid line out of a porn story.