Invaders

The blonde knew her admirer wouldn't be too far away. He hadn't been able to keep his eyes off her during the performance and she'd continually made eye contact as she'd gyrated on stage. She giggled—he'd have been hard all night.

Keep him interested until he'd delivered on his promise...

It didn't take long to find him—dutifully waiting like an obedient lapdog near the bar. "Well?"

"Well what?"

Donna fluttered her eyelashes, wondering if he was deliberately trying to play it cool. Was this really the guy who'd tried so hard to get into her knickers a couple of weeks ago? It felt like he was suffering from a personality transplant.

"What did you think?" she prompted, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. That same detached look was in his eyes but unlike their brief chat at the radio station, his arm went around her waist when she brushed her body against him. That was better.

"It was very good."

Very good? Was that the best he could do?

"What about the magazine?" she coyly asked. Her hand covered his hand and held it in place around her waist as she pressed even closer. "You said—"

"I spoke to them this afternoon," he interrupted. "They want to meet you."

"They do? Already?"

He nodded. "We need to talk specifics. Now. But not here."

Donna glanced around. They'd notice she was missing if she was away too long. "I need to get back to the party," she explained, smiling up into the spotty face. "Maybe we can meet tomorrow, David?"

He shook his head. "That will be too late. We should talk now."

"Too late? Why? I mean, doesn't—"

The hand that grabbed hers stopped the question before she could finish it. "I have a place for us to go," he said, pulling her towards a door to their left. "Follow me..."

She hastily thought as she followed him, balancing the prize being dangled in front of her with the need for caution. There were so many people around, after all. Still, if it was that urgent, maybe they wanted to set something up quickly?

The narrow corridor led to what appeared to be a small office on the right. A desk, small cabinet and a couple of chairs were enough to fill the room.

"David—" she began, half turning to him, but his mouth cut off her words.

She allowed the kiss, enjoying the feel of his hardness pressing into her stomach. God, he couldn't be that big, could he? She'd fuck him all night to get a piece in that magazine, but this wasn't the time or place. When his hands found her breasts, she tried to back away but felt herself trapped by the wall behind her.

"Hey," she softly told him, grunting at the way his palms cupped each small swell and rubbed the thin top across her hard nipples. "Take it easy..."

Dragging his kneading hands to her hips, she locked her arms around his neck, stroking the back of his blonde hair with the tips of her fingers. "I have to go," she whispered. "Let's get the deal done then we can meet up one night..."

It was as if she hadn't spoken. Pulling her wrists from around his neck, he raised her arms up above her head, holding them tight against the wall. Donna shivered. There was something about being bound and helpless that was a real turn on. And that cock he was grinding into her—that couldn't be for real. Could it?

Her breath was coming in short pants as she looked into those detached eyes. "David," she tried again, but as she spoke his nostrils flared. She hadn't previously noticed they were that large. A puff of smoke emerged and even as her head jerked back in shock, the aroma found its way to her loins. The sensation was as if he'd injected her with some sort of aphrodisiac.

When his mouth opened and his tongue flicked out and licked along her neck, her knees buckled. She must be hallucinating. It was long and blue, like a lizard's. Hadn't she read somewhere that a male blue tongue lizard bites the female around the neck when mating? This one wasn't biting her. It was sweeping in long circles along her skin.

Donna groaned again.

The fingers holding the wrists tightened while his other hand found her skimpy thong under her skirt. A single tug ripped it from her body. She tried to speak but another emission from his nostrils stilled her. The sweeping tongue snaked across every piece of exposed flesh it could find. When it began to draw circles in her armpits, her body began to melt.

This couldn't be happening.

***

The door to Charlie Morton's office was half open and Bill lightly tapped before entering the room. He'd carefully thought his tactics through before heading towards negotiations. Whatever Charlie, proposed, he'd put up some token resistance before reluctantly accepting the terms. Securing the gig at the Astoria would be the making of the band.

He hadn't expected Marianne to be there. One of the young girl's arms was draped around her overweight boyfriend's neck and the hard nipples pushing through her thin dress suggested they'd been up to something before he got there.

"Ah, Bill, come in, come in..."

"Charlie..."

The club owner looked like the cat that'd just got the cream. "Before we talk about the band, there's something you need to be aware of." He nodded at the computer screen. "Look at this."

Bill took a couple of steps forward to Charlie's desk. The picture on the screen was slightly fuzzy, maybe because it was relayed from a security camera. But there was no doubt as to what they were watching. The grunts gave it away even before the picture did.

"I didn't come here to watch porn..."

Charlie laughed. "Don't knock it. Marianne and I watch some good stuff every other night, don't we babe?"

The young girl giggled and looked sideways at Bill. "We love it," she said, without a hint of embarrassment.

"Indeed we do," the club owner chuckled. "Makes you even hornier, doesn't it, babe?"

"Look, Charlie—"

"You're missing the point," the overweight man cut in, raising a finger to his lips. "I suggest you look more closely."

An inquisitive frown covered Bill's forehead as he turned back to the monitor. The blonde haired man on screen had his trousers around his knees and was moving mechanically as he fucked the girl from behind. One of his hands was in her short blonde hair, yanking her head back. It didn't appear as if she needed any encouragement. Her arms were infront of her, pressing against the wall for leverage as she almost violently humped backwards against him.

Between her grunts, she was exhorting the man to fuck her even harder. Her voice sounded familiar. When her thrashing head turned in the direction of the camera, he froze on the spot.

Two Weeks Earlier

Charlie Morton licked his lips. Like everything about him, they were oversized. And right now, his oversized cock was rock hard. Ever since the classy brunette had walked into his club a couple of hours ago, he'd been captivated by her. When he'd suggested they retire to his office for a drink she'd readily agreed, although she'd left her glass untouched.

Marianne was a hot little bitch and knew how to light his fire, but this one was something else.

Sitting on his knee in the large mock-leather chair, the persuasive brunette had told him what was on her mind and then whispered his reward. The hand that had unzipped his trousers and fished out his cock confirmed the promise contained by her words.

"Make the call," she told him, slowly jerking his hard flesh.

A light flare of her nostrils sent a wave of pleasure through his senses. Whatever that aroma was, it warmed his loins. His cock throbbed as he picked up the phone and hit the speed dial. It took only a few seconds before Bill Fawcett's voice echoed from the loudspeaker in his office.

"Bill," he murmured, watching as the woman sensually slid to her knees. His rock hard cock towered before her, rigid and ready for her attention. "It's Charlie Morton."

"Charlie?" The club owner sensed the hesitation. Fawcett was probably worried in case there was a problem with the Astoria booking. That was his trump card. "What can I do for you?"

"It's what I can do for you," he mumbled into the phone, grunting as the brunette's thumb rubbed his rapidly forming precum along the thick head of his cock. He shuddered, feeling his balls swell. The faster he got this over with, the sooner he'd get to fuck her. "You're still without a replacement for that blonde? The gig's only two weeks away."

"I'm looking, Charlie."

The brunette's eyes smiled encouragingly at him as her tongue swirled across the crown. One hand held him steady while she took his hardness between her lips. He grew further in her mouth. Fuck, it felt like she was curling her tongue around the entire thickness of his shaft.

"Look no further," he blurted. "I've found you a replacement..."

"You have?" Fawcett sounded dubious.

The club owner reached down to lightly rest a hand on the top of the brown curls, looking down to meet the woman's provocative gaze. He'd never seen eyes like that... a dull grey with large dark pupils. "Believe me, Bill, she's red hot."

There was that pause again. "I do my own recruiting, Charlie."

"I know, I know," the club owner hurriedly agreed. It was the response he expected. Fawcett could be a stubborn bastard when he wanted. "But trust me, you'll be impressed."

"Look—"

"I'm giving you the chance of a lifetime but I want a full band," the club owner interrupted, a sudden edge to his voice as the brunette licked slowly along his length. It gave him all the incentive he needed.

"I know that—"

"You're close to getting someone?"

"No, but—"

"Look, I've gone out on a limb by letting you have this booking and we both know you can't afford to fuck up. The word is your music isn't as good with just one vocalist and I need to protect my interests, too. I'm not telling you what to do, Bill. I'm just suggesting you listen to her and form your own view. What do you say?"

The few second's silence seemed to last much longer. Even the mouth on his cock had paused.

"Where do I see her?"

Charlie let out a soft sigh of relief. It turned to a gasp as that tongue circled his hardness again. How the fuck did she do that? It was impossible...

"She's appearing here at the club, tonight," he grunted, staring anxiously as the brunette's mouth left his cock with a slurp. "Get here for nine. I'll have a ticket waiting for you at the door."

"I'll see what I can do."

"Bill, you know what I'm saying," he persuasively grunted, watching as the woman pushed herself to her feet. His cock twitched as her hands slid under her dress and dragged a pair of black panties down her shapely legs. "If she's not suitable," he quickly added as she threw a leg over his lap. "Just turn around and head out of here. Just do it for me..."

"What's her name?"

"Lydia," he mumbled as the woman straddled him and gripped the back of his chair. "It's Lydia..."

"I have to go, Charlie."

He whimpered as she reached between her legs and ran his cock along her cleanly shaved pussy. "You'll come?"

"I'll be there."

The woman took the phone from him as the line went dead and dropped it onto the floor. "That was very good, Charlie," she whispered as she eased down on his hardness. "It feels like you're ready for your reward..."

***

Putting his conversation with Charlie Morton to one side hadn't been easy, but the presentation to the Spencer Executives demanded Bill's complete attention.

Selling any sort of TV campaign to clients always required a deft touch, even one as good as this. The proposed television commercials really hit the spot. Basing the promotion of their new clothing range on a hot and sexy interplay between female and male models was a clever innovation and perfect for the specific target market available to them.

Completing the proposals at all felt like a minor miracle, partly due to his personal problems.

Ending his relationship with Donna hadn't helped, nor had his decision to exclude her from the band. Not that any of the other members had complained, even though he knew they were frustrated with him. Their two gigs without her had been uninspiring. Everyone thought so.

Perhaps he shouldn't have such a closed mind on Charlie Morton's call? If the club owner had somehow discovered someone to step into Donna's shoes he should be grateful, shouldn't he?

But the issues with the campaign had spread well beyond his life outside of the Agency. Male models weren't known for their brain power and the astonishingly wooden performances from those with blonde hair—dyed or not—gave extra credence to that view. The concept was first class and the creative team had excelled in pulling out all the stops, but achieving anything other than vacant expressions from those idiots had made finishing within budget a nightmare.

He glanced across at Susie. She winked at him. Their flirting had always been harmless enough but the sight of that black cleavage spilling over her cashmere top did nothing to help quell his semi permanent erection The two weeks since he'd spilt with Donna was a long time to go without sex and a few morning hand jobs hadn't resolved the problem...

Turned his attention back to the large screen on the far wall, he rested his palms on the oval conference table. Dan Foster and his two Sales Executives were peering at the last of the images Susie brought up in support of his pitch. The heavy billboard poster and media proposals were essential to maximise and elongate the impact of the TV commercials.

"That's it gentlemen," he concluded, studying their reaction as he brought the presentation to a close. The Sales Exec's nodded at one another whereas the hardnosed CEO continued to stare thoughtfully at the blank screen. It was never easy to read Dan Foster—particularly when he was paying a million to promote his latest clothing range.

Everything had to be pretty damn perfect.

"Okay, Susie—lights," he added, watching the little tease deliberately stretch forward to adjust the conference room's dimmer switch. All eyes were drawn to the healthy cleavage, even the Old Man himself. Tom Watkins might be in his seventies, but he still appreciated the ladies.

"What are your thoughts, Dan," he asked, instantly bringing them back to the point.

Foster adjusted his rimless spectacles. Praise didn't come easily. "Gentlemen..." he said, nodding at his colleagues.

"Pretty good," the older of the two conceded. "I can't get my mind around this new craze to dye your hair blonde, but the way you've incorporated it into the campaign works extremely well."

"And helps positions our brand at the centre of modern trends," the other added. "Especially with the way you've built in the interplay between models. That's genius!"

"Sounds like you have our vote," Dan Foster conceded, leaning back in his chair and linking his hands behind his head. "What are the timings?"

"We have TV slots booked throughout the next two weeks," Bill explained, sitting back down. He leant forward enthusiastically and rested his hands on the glass table. "And the billboard and media timetable matches perfectly. Want to go through it?"

Foster pushed his glasses up his forehead as he glanced around the room. Everyone was well aware that moving the discussion onto the production schedule was giving tacit approval to the campaign as it stood. And the million pounds spend.

"Okay," Foster slowly said, as if he was deliberately drawing out the tension. His eyes flickered to Old Man Watkins and then back to Bill. "Okay, shoot..."

***

Susie slipped her palms on to the surface behind her and pushed up onto the clear glass conference table. Gracefully crossing her legs, she smiled at Bill. "That went well."

He grinned back at her. "Couldn't have gone better," he agreed, picking up a strawberry from the leftover food tray and popping it into his mouth. "Thanks for making it run so smoothly."

"That's my job," she told him, leaning to the side as she poured herself a glass of white wine. "Want another?"

"Why not," he sighed. The Old Man had left for some meeting or another and he only had paperwork scheduled for the rest of the afternoon.

"Why not indeed," she laughed, refilling his glass and handing it out to him. "It's a celebration. How much will we make from the campaign?"

"Enough," he wistfully told her. "A couple more of these and your end of year bonus is guaranteed."

"It'll be a fraction of yours," she teased. "But I'm thankful for small mercies."

"And so you should," he quipped. "I do the work, you get the money."

"Yeah?" she laughed, wiping a hand through her hair as she took a drink from her glass of wine. "Just like with the band, huh?"

Bill pulled a face and grabbed another strawberry, swirling it in his wine before sucking it from the stalk.

"You have some strange habits, you know that?"

He wiggled his eyebrows. "You don't know the half of it."

Susie laughed loudly. "Don't think I want to? Are you coming to rehearsals tonight?"

He gave a weary shrug. "Maybe later. Charlie Morton reckons he's found someone who could be a replacement for Donna. I'm going to see her perform at his club tonight."

She pursed her lips sympathetically. "You're missing her?"

Bill's head shot up, maybe a little too quickly. What was it about women that made them so intuitive? "What makes you say that?"

"Well let me think," she mused, exaggeratedly throwing her head back. She pointed a finger at him over the rim of her wine glass. "Maybe it's the hard on you were sporting during the presentation, combined with the way you kept looking at my tits. I take it the two occurrences were connected."

He wiped a sliver of wine from his chin as he narrowly avoided choking on his drink. Even now, his erection remained ready to spring into action, not helped by the way her tits wobbled as she leant forward. "That mouth of yours will get you into trouble one day," he managed to say.

"Never had any complaints about my mouth," she sexily responded, raising one eyebrow. Then she burst out laughing at his reaction. "Why, Mr. Fawcett," she said, wiping away a tear. "I do believe you're blushing."

"You," he told her, deciding it would better to sit in his condition. "Are what's known in the trade as a cock tease."

"We girls call it a prick tease," she giggled. "But it means the same thing." Her face turned serious for a second and she hesitated long enough for him to wonder where the conversation was going. "She always had a wandering eye, you know."

He felt a spurt of rage wanting to explode inside him but he fought it back. "You didn't think of telling me?"

"Would you have believed me?"

The moment passed. He was angry at Donna, not her. The strange thing was that he couldn't decide what it was that pissed him off the most about his ex-girlfriend. The fact she'd cheated, or having it pointed out to him by Charlie Morton? The next day, when he'd confronted her, she'd been so calm, detached even. She'd seemed almost disconnected from reality, as if she was unable to understand why he was upset.

Then there was that vacant look in her eyes. He looked sheepishly at Susie. "Tell me... has she ever taken drugs?"

Her eyes rolled in surprise. "Drugs?? Donna? You're kidding me?"

He stared blankly back at her and she realised he was deadly serious.

She shrugged. "No, Bill. At least, not that I'm aware. What makes you think..."

Her words tailed away. It was a good question. She'd never shown any inclination to dabble, but what as other explanation could there have been for her spaced out appearance the next day? She'd even tried to fuck him during their argument, as if that would release the tension and make everything all right again. She was so far detached from reality it was as if he was talking to a different woman. There was something that didn't add up, but what?