The Interview

"Take it easy, Frank," the man beside her said quietly.

"Shut up," Frank told him. The man on the couch shrugged, stretching his arms up above his head.

"Work on his imagination, then his body," Frank continued, his gaze shifting to her and the edge back in his voice. "Arouse him ... don't just get him hard, make him want you to the exclusion of everything else."

Nodding uncomfortably, she got to her feet, taking a deep breath and looking down at the man in front of her. It felt awkward, the entire situation, and she pulled what little she remembered from her high school drama classes, trying to shut out the man behind her, the room, the job and her own thoughts, trying to conjure up a scenario, a fantasy, a script that would give her a direction.

Straightening up, she stretched upward, then brought her hands down, caressing herself as she kept her gaze firmly fixed on the face of the man on the couch. She lifted her breasts, rubbing her thumbs over the hardening nipples, imagining the two of them here alone, letting her body sway sensuously as she pretended that she was dancing, just for him. She saw his eyes widen a little as she turned and bent, sliding her hands down herself and drawing her fingers through the line of curls covering her sex; heard his breath drawn in as she half-closed her eyes and lifted one hand to her lips, licking off the sweet, musky moisture on her fingertips.

She danced, at first for him, then for herself, hearing the music in her mind, feeling it intertwine with desire, slowly to begin with, then with more need, a throb between her legs, a tugging ache in her breasts, every caress featherlight and tormenting, every expression showing exactly how she felt, was feeling, that growing heat.

The man on the couch reached out as she drew closer, catching her wrist and pulling her close. Arching back as he rubbed his palm over a breast, she pushed herself nearer to him and let out a long exhale as he licked her nipples, teeth grazing over them. She drew away a little, smiling at him, and ducked her head, running her fingertips over his chest, feeling the muscles of his abdomen flutter and ripple under them as she explored him, her mouth following the trail of her hands with every reaction. He was fully erect now, she noted, somewhat distantly, his cock thick and long and engorged with blood, the veins standing out a little more with each touch of her hands and mouth.

Smiling at him, she pushed his legs apart and leaned forward, breathing him in, her darting tongue licking over his balls and down the perineum toward his asshole. She felt the shudder ripple through him, heard his low groan and saw the jerking of his cock in response. With both hands, she stroked him, squeezing a little, pressing slightly harder as she watched his face, licking the pre-cum as it leaked in a steady dribble from the head. He was close, she decided after a moment, but not too close, and she stopped, moving to lean over him, looking down in to his face and letting her hunger show at the faint plea that filled his eyes.

It came as a surprise to find herself thoroughly wet, slick and swollen. She wasn't sure if it'd been the long, slow dance or the torturous time she'd put in on discovering his body, or the act of making love to a complete stranger in front of another, inhibitions stripped away, a part of her, someone she didn't really know taking the reins and guiding her through the process. It didn't matter, she thought, a little dazedly, swinging her hips back and forth, the cock of the man beneath jumping as her pussy lips slicked his shaft from root to tip.

She tipped her head back and felt for him, pushing down hard as the head slid into her, engulfed all at once in tight, fiery pressure. He grunted and lifted his hips and she lifted herself at the same time, almost releasing him and sliding down again, hard and fast, feeling him shake with reaction, feeling herself trembling as the head brushed over that too-sensitive place inside again, sending a flooding wash of pleasure through her pelvis that shot up through her abdomen and made her nipples ache fiercely.

Looking down at him as she rose again slowly, she held out her hands and when he lifted his, she caught them and put them over her breasts, holding them against her as she impaled herself on him again. His fingers clutched convulsively around each breast and she moaned softly as the sensations mixed and churned inside of her, everything heightened suddenly and need overriding everything else, driving her faster.

The hand against her back was unexpected but the fingers that slid from the base of the cock inside of her, wet with her moisture, up the curve of her ass sent a shockwave of pleasure through her, her pussy clamping hard around the cock in it and drawing a juddering groan from both men.

"Just relax," the deep voice of the dark-haired man murmured behind her and she leaned forward, resting her weight on the hands around her breasts, slowing down and feeling her arousal increase at the change. Like changing gears, she thought, a little incoherently, not knowing what she meant by that.

The fingers were playing with her, pressing against her, slipping in and out barely. Opening her eyes, she looked down at the man beneath her. His pupils were huge and black, taking up most of the blue irises, his breath rasped roughly through his parted lips and his hands were still squeezing her breasts, his hips jerking a little as he tried to get in deeper. She shuddered against him when the fingers pushed in further, two, then three, twisting around in her and sending flashpoints of feeling through the nerve endings, as if she might detonate any second, counterpoint and descant to the sensations of the rock-hard cock already inside her.

"Don't fight me," the deep voice said, and she felt the fingers stretch her out, then slowly withdraw. "Relax."

Her cheeks were pulled apart, and she sucked in a deeper breath as she felt the head against her ass, trying to obey him, already full but aching with an unfamiliar need for more. The head slid in and out, like the fingers, slowly and gently and the feeling it brought wasn't pain or discomfort, she found. It was something else. Something else entirely.

She pushed back a little as he slid in further, and under her, the man groaned at the sensation, echoing the unvoiced moan in her mind. It was too much and not enough, all at the same time; two men, two long, hard cocks inside her, and she was going to lose her mind.

"Ah, fuck, that's good," the dark-haired man said, pushing all the way in and pulling all the way, almost, his strokes so slow, so agonisingly pleasurable as he slid and touched a million nerves she never knew she had. "God, that's so fucking good."

Between the hard cocks a thin layer of skin seemed to be filled with sensation, like a minefield; coruscating and sparking, sending spasms and twitches through her, each one squeezing and licking over the cock inside her pussy.

"Aw, Jesus, Frank, you're killing me here," the man beneath her gasped. "For fuck's sake, move!"

There was a breathless chuckle behind her and her eyes screwed shut involuntarily as he did, driving in now, a little faster, a little deeper, touching her everywhere and lighting her up.

The first orgasm came like a comet. Unexpected. Burning hot. Erupting in her and taking both men by surprise. The second came hard on its heels, and she let out her moans then, the cock in her ass rocking her up and down the cock in her pussy and her muscles clenching and twisting around both, waves of sensation rioting through her body, through her breasts and her thighs, tingling in her fingers and toes, flushing along the sides of her neck and reverberating back into her pelvis, into the core, to hit those hard cocks again and bounce outward.

The blond came abruptly, his back arching up under her, his face contorted as he rutted helplessly, hips jerking in a staccato rhythm that set off another unbearable series of tremors, this one reaching out to her skin, fire and ice and the hands around her hips digging in, holding her tight as she shook through, hardly feeling the rushing spurt of come he filled her with.

For long moments, an unknown length of time, she was floating, no longer a mind or even a person, she thought later. Just feeling. Just sensation, a pleasure so great that her body simply took over everything and she felt every cell, flushed through with warmth and peace and a contentment that seemed impossible. She lay on the chest of the man beneath her, his arms around her, could feel the panting breath of the man behind her, holding his weight off them both by some strength of will she couldn't imagine. The room was silent. Her thoughts were gone. The two men, on either side of her were a part of her, and she was a part of them, and the rest of the world didn't really exist ... not at this moment.

"God, sweetheart, that was ..." the man beneath her breathed against her ear, trailing off. She couldn't summon the energy to lift her head and look at him, or the curiosity to know what it was.

There was almost a physical pain of separation when Frank withdrew, her skin feeling a sudden chill where his had pressed against her, her body bereft at the loss of him, his cock and his touch. She felt the cushions of the couch sink and bounce up as he got to his feet, and she closed her eyes, then opened them, easing herself up and feeling the cock in her pussy, soft and limp now, slip from her.

"Is there, um, any place I can clean up?" she asked no one in particular, her gaze on the couch cushions when she stood.

"Bathroom, through there," Frank said, gesturing to the opposite side of the room. "You can get dressed now."

Walking across the thick pile carpet, she felt numb, she realised. Emptied out. She stopped by the chair facing the monitors and picked up her clothing and purse, looking up and seeing the door, walking around the seating and opening it.

It was an executive bathroom. A shower stood to one side, generously proportioned and with a slow exhale, she set her clothing down on the chair next to the long vanity and stepped into the frosted glass cubicle, turning on the water and letting it wash her clean.

Had she passed the last test, she wondered? It had been the first time she'd ever been with two men at once. The first time she'd ever had a cock in her ass, for that matter, she thought with a faint frown. It'd been different from what she'd expected. Different from what her friends, back at college, had told her about the experience, half-drunk and confessing their sexual experiments. Not one had mentioned that they'd liked it. Not one had said anything about orgasms that took the mind and left the body behind, crackling and sparkling with an intensity so great she might've thought she'd died.

Le petite mort. The little death. A colloquialism she'd only ever heard related to a man's orgasm. Died and gone to Heaven.

She gradually became aware that she was soaping her body slowly, rubbing over the same parts, over and over again. She looked up at the shower rose and switched to a more stimulating setting, turning the water on harder and rinsing herself.

The question was not so much what'd happened, she thought, stepping out and taking a large, fluffy towel from the heated rail. It was ... could she do this? Day in, day out? For long enough to achieve what she wanted. Not every man she would ... service ... would be like those two.

She stopped towelling herself and stared at the mirror. Perhaps that would be easier, she considered, studying her reflection without seeing it. Easier not to feel so much. Easier to consider it more as a job.

Did it matter, she asked herself, returning the towel to the railing and picking up her underwear. It was a job. She needed it. If she hated it, she could always leave.

Dressing quickly, she checked her appearance in the mirror, brushing out her hair and returning it to the soft chignon she'd arrived with. She looked like a secretary, she thought, seeing her mouth quirk up a little at the corner with the thought. The sort some kinds of bosses might have inappropriate thoughts about. That would be a worse situation than this, she realised. A lot worse.

Turning to the door, she opened it and looked around the big office. The blond had gone. The dark-haired man - Frank - was sitting behind his desk, looking down at the file in front of him. He looked up and around as she closed the door behind her and crossed the room, getting to his feet.

"I'm sorry," he said, a little brusquely. "You're not really suitable for the job."

She felt as if he'd slapped her, taking a half-step back from the desk as she stared at him.

"May I know why?" she finally got out, a flush rising up her neck at the question.

He looked down at the file, then back up at her. "No."

Anger managed to spark through the disconcerting fog that was filling her mind. "That's not an acceptable answer, not after that interview process," she said, straightening and pulling her shoulders back.

"Frank." The intercom on his desk squawked peremptorily.

"Yeah." He pushed the button and answered.

"She's hired. Get the paperwork up to HR."

For a moment, they both stood there, staring at the sleek black speaker on his desk.

"Frank?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good." The intercom gave a small squeal, as if satisfied, and fell silent.

She looked at him, chin lifted and he raised his eyes, meeting hers, his face expressionless.

"Why do you want to do this?"

The question took her by surprise. "I need a job."

"There're a lotta jobs -"

"Not that pay this well," she cut him off. "What did I do wrong?"

He dropped his gaze back to the file, his mouth thinning out slightly as he shuffled the papers together and closed it. "Nothing. You didn't do anything wrong."

"Then why -"

"The interview's over," he said, the brusque tone returning. "You'll be starting on Monday afternoon. Two p.m. to seven p.m. Make sure you're here early and see Charlie. She'll show you the dressing rooms and the reception rooms."

He walked around the desk and over to the door, opening and holding it open.

"Thank you," she said, walking out past him.

"Don't thank me," he said, closing the door behind her.

*****

AN: Might be continued.