Transform Ch. 01

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A woman with a secret seduces John but to what purpose.
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Lisa crosses her legs. They glide against each other aided by the sheer black nylons that sheath her lean thighs. The nylons 'woosh' almost unperceptively as they rub against each other. Lisa feels the sensation against her skin. She hears the whispered 'woosh'. Somewhere deep inside it brings a smile. Not that anyone would have seen it. It wasn't that kind of a smile. It was something she felt in the recesses of her being. It was a private smile. Lisa was full of these private smiles. Along with her private laughs, plots, shrieks, sobs, prayers, blasphemies and releases. All inward. All her own. Just for her.

Thickety-click, thickety click, thickety-click. A woman in a dark blue two piece business suit appears from around the corner of the waiting area, her modest 3 inch heels temporarily suspend their march down the tiled floor. The woman looks around for her quarry. Lisa observes.

Over the years Lisa had developed an acute sense of observation. It wasn't intentional. It was simply a by-product of her training. Before Lisa's new beginning Lisa probably would not have thought twice about the woman now standing 4 meters in front of her. Lisa would have taken her simply for what she is - a messenger. Lisa wouldn't have noticed the well appointed Albert Nipon suit. She wouldn't have cared that the shoes were a bit more worn than would be expected, or that the blouse had some apparent crumbs from an earlier repast taken at her desk. The woman - perhaps 10 kilos overweight - was just attractive enough to pull off her cold bitch executive assistant role - but the years were beginning to take their toll. She was beginning that transition from cold milf to freeze dried matron. A transition Lisa was not completely unaware of herself. If not for a significant amount of modern medical magic Lisa would likely be facing a similar showdown with time. Of course it wasn't just the knife that kept Lisa fit and trim. She had training. Training and Discipline. And not forced upon her by some master - other than Time which ultimately is everyones' master. No. Her discipline was her own. At least it was now.

"Ms. Brock?" came the husky and breathy question from thickety-click.

Lisa caught the gaze and smiled noticeably.

"John just wanted to let you know he'll just be a few more moments" said thickety-click blandly "Can I get you some water or coffee while you wait."

"No thank you. I'm fine" Lisa replied with warmth and respect in her voice. "By the way, that is a wonderful Nipon on you." Lisa's training kicked in. A women's role was to give gifts. And this little complement was Lisa's gift to Ms. Thickety Click.

"Yes" was the curt reply. "John will be with you soon."

Woosh, woosh. Lisa crosses and uncrosses her legs as if to signal acceptance and turns her head to gaze at the Gauguin reproduction that is hanging off to her left.

Thickety-click, thickety-click - the woman is out of sight.

John is distracted. His mind is not in the present but in the not too distant future. It is with Lisa in his apartment this evening. She had made a promise and he is imagining her sticking to the promise.

Unfortunately his body is decidedly in the present. He is in his office and he has business to attend to and an underling proudly presenting his latest statistical achievement. His colleague, a short, thin young man with a well-manicured beard is leaning into his desk from the leather and steel chair sitting on the opposite side. His 'lean-in' is somewhere between aggressive business intensity and 'woah man - you are crowding my space'. The Leaner hands John the latest financial projection regarding the projected lifetime income losses for a young woman that had recently become paralyzed in a warehouse accident. Leaner takes the opportunity to hold his position and sits further forward with his elbow on the precipice of the desk. John feels his breath on his face. John takes the report and leans back in his chair. "Sweet Distance" he thinks.

Leaner pauses. John feels the heft of the report in his hands. He looks for the summary on the front page. Not there. He deftly fingers through the pages. Of all Johns' body parts, he is probably most conscious - most of the time - with his hands. He always had an uncanny ability to manipulate even the most intricate of spaces with his thin, long fingers. He could have been a magician - doing slight of hand to the amazement of kids, parents and the occasional young and single female. But John instead trained as a surgeon - perfecting his digital manipulation cutting, sewing and otherwise repairing the failing aspects of human flesh. Though he no longer practiced surgery he never really lost their muscle memory. He always viewed his fingers and his hands as the goose that laid his golden egg.

More accurately his dexterity was more like the magic beans. He actually had been only a moderately skilled surgeon. There were others with greater skill and specialization. But he made a nice income, had managed to pay back his substantial student loans within a few short years and lived in a modern loft apartment in the city. But then things went awry. He almost lost his practice but managed to come out unscathed with the help of some excellent legal assistance. Most importantly the experience gave left him with a keen insight regarding the human condition.

"People believe they are worth more than they actually are" he wrote in his original business plan. "And I can prove to people and to jurors - which are made of people - that they are worth a lot of money". He moved to the east coast and proceeded to build the most successful insurance services company in the region. His insight - backed up by some nifty voodoo mathematics - turned him into a multi-millionaire and was the real goose in the metaphor. His hands were only the instruments - much like the bean stalk - that led him to the insight that led to the gold.

Ironically, now that he no longer cut people open for a living, he keeps his fingers lithe doing what he should have done as a teenager - slight of hand. He practices card tricks, hide and seek tricks, or simply threads pencils or pens in and out of his fingers almost absent mindedly while reviewing the copious statistical and written reports that were part of his daily routine.

And so he is now threading his favorite Mont Blanc between his fingers as he reads Leaners report. He flips to the back page and reads through the final tally. He raises his brow and his eyes open in appreciation. "OKaaaay" he slowly groans. "I think I can use this. Good work." John makes eye contact with Leaner.

This is a gift to Leaner who finally sits back a bit and smiles. Not that it is intentional. When John consciously gives a gift they are always of the physical realm. Complements and stroking egos, is not in his Santa Clause repertoire. John just wants this part of his day to end. He has what he needs. Now he wants to get on with the what waits for him in the night.

"I'll review the rest tonight and call you tomorrow if I have more questions." John says as he rises from behind the desk. Leaner takes the cue, stands up and walks out of the room with a bit more joie de vivre than when he entered.

Woosh. Lisa uncrosses her legs. She is summoned. She is now trailing thickety-click through the well lit hallway to Johns business sanctuary. Along the way she has a good view of thickety-clicks back profile. Reddish brown hair hangs slightly plastered to just below her shoulders. Her gait is somewhere between an aging athlete and runway model. Foot in front of foot, if Lisa squints she can imagine Ms. Thickity-Click walking down a catwalk. But her slightly thick middle and husky shoulders gives more of an impression of a female boxer. She would be a tough and a worthy opponent. She also thinks Ms. Thickety-click would be a good lay. Physical enough to make the fight interesting - but not so tough as to be intimidating. "Are those spanks" she thinks "or is her ass actually that firm?"

Lisa's training had conditioned her mind to picture even casual strangers in sexual situations. And so Lisa imagines thickety-click lying in a hotel room bed with white sheets and dim lighting. She is lying on her stomach, clutching a pillow. A white sheet is pulled up over her ass, stopping just below the dimples that separate her ass cheeks from her well-muscled latissimus dorsi. The outline of her pale breasts could be made out as they press themselves up on the mattress below her - spilling off to the sides. She pictures a rhythmic sway to her back - left then right then left again. Back and forth as if matching a gentle breeze. Ms. Thickety-Click arches her back and raises her head. She turns to look backward and up to the hovering observer straddling over her, the slightly stiff brown curls fall over her flushed cheeks.

"John is waiting for you" thickety-click interrupts as she turns her head, opens the walnut door and waits for Lisa to pass through. Lisa catches a waft of sweet cologne and perhaps the glint of an approving smile in the corner of her eye as she switches positions with Thickety-Click and moves forward into the office. The door hangs open just long enough for Lisa to feel eyes measure up her own back profile. And suddenly she is back in the hotel room but now Lisa is clutching the pillow and Ms. Thickety-Click is straddling her. Moving together. Left, right, left, right. "Tchock - pock" the door is closed and the latches fall into place.

John emerges from what Lisa imagines is an attached private bath to her left. Interesting she thinks. She might be able to have some fun with that in the future.

"Ah Lisa" Johns' voice seems to be ½ an octave higher than usual "sorry you had to wait."

"I've been waiting my whole life for you John" she smiles as she emphasizes his name "what's a few more minutes."

He is straightening his tie and forces an awkward smile. She slowly approaches. "Besides" she continues "I had a chance to admire your wonderful Gaugin in the hallway."

"Oh yes, it's a nice piece. A reproduction of course - but still nice."

"Have you ever been?" Lisa asks?

"Been where?"

"Tahiti of course. The South Pacific? Where Guagin painted that wonderful landscape in your lobby" Lisa purrs. "The beaches are really some of the best in the world."

"Um, never had the pleasure yet. The closest I've probably been is Newport Beach" he has a self-deprecating smile.

"Well we should go sometime." Lisa is now standing in front of him, replaces his hands with her hands on his tie knot and takes over the grooming. "It's particularly beautiful at night when the stars are out. What's your stance on skinny dipping?" she teases.

John grins. "Well, I've heard the actuaries say it adds five years to your life - so I'm all for it."

"Good. I'm glad the actuaries are pro moonlight and wanton nudity" Lisa pats the tie "But remember John, not everything has to be good for you to be - well - good for you."

John nods, smiles and turns to the desk. "Let me just grab my attaché and we can head out for dinner. Reservations are at 7. I hope you like the . . . "

"John," Lisa interrupts "you know I made that promise to you about tonight."

John feels his heart skip a beat "Um, what promise are you taking about" He sits down in the chair to arrange items in his attaché and to prepare for the worst.

"Don't be coy." Lisa demurs. "Tonight was the night I promised you could have me. Ravage me. Fuck the living daylights out of me" She punctuates the last few words. "Remember?"

"Oh, thaaat promise." John wheezes out a reply. "It must have slipped my mind. But it sounds like a wonderful idea." John's hand to eye coordination suddenly loses it's bearings and the Leaners report spills out of his attaché to the ground at his feet.

"Yes, it waass a good idea" Lisa emphasizes the 'was'. "But I'm afraid there is a slight change in plans." Lisa bends down, places one knee on the floor and helps John pick up the statisticians projections that would decide the fate of a young woman whose whole life was changed in an instant. A woman who would have to learn how to cope with a new reality. A new body. A new mind.

As Lisa lowers herself to the knee her skirt raises itself to well above mid-thigh. Her black nylons are now even more exposed. John notices some frilly pattern along the sides. He feels her breath on his face. He smells cinnamon and caramel and flowers. "Sweet Lord" he thinks to himself and leans a bit closer.

Lisa balances herself by placing one hand on John's knee while handing him the papers she had collected with the others. John is momentarily paralyzed and doesn't react. So Lisa reaches to place the papers on his desk, crossing John's left shoulder and taking the opportunity to lean in. As she pulls away she pauses at his ear.

"I can't wait" she whispers. "Let's get started."

Their eyes meet. She pats the knot of his tie again. Then she kneels comfortably in front of him, moves his hands from the attaché and places them on the leather arm rests. She sets to work; her training kicking in. She smiles assuredly, breaks eye contact and turns her attention to John's belt buckle. Was that humming John hears coming from Lisa?

Lisa had sucked a lot of cock. But she confessed to herself that this situation was not quite optimal. She knew that for most men the ideal blowjob was not just about his stiff member. She could drive a man crazy by caressing his abdomen and thighs. She'd kiss the length of the shaft licking her way down the base of his shaft while her lithe fingers discovered his balls and that spot just behind his balls. She'd tease a man with a massage that was somewhere between butterfly kisses, and deep tissue - alternating between soothing caress and painful squeeze. She would build him up only to tear him down. Make him wait. Make him yearn before devouring him with deep throated swallows.

And to her surprise this cat and mouse game had a similar effect on herself. Lisa discovered long ago that serving a man in such a seeming one-sided activity got her aroused. She knew this long before her new beginning - though her training made her appreciate this aspect of herself even more. In a London hotel room she once spent almost 3.5 hours bringing her mate to the edge then back from the cliff then to the edge. Over and over until both finally erupted in a writhing set of orgasm's without ever having intercourse. She wondered what Guinness would say? Did she come close to a world record? Would they have to come and observe such an event to confirm it's a record breaking achievement? Not that Lisa would mind the company.

But Lisa had chosen this place and time to please John in just this way for a reason. John was undersexed and remarkably lacking experience and confidence. Lisa didn't know this from first hand sexual encounters with John. After two months of dating they still had not done much more than some heavy panting. John never pushed the point - even when Lisa provided some purposely lame excuses. And that's why Lisa surmised John needed a confidence boost. As awkward as a behind the desk blowjob might be, it is now an opportunity for John to feel powerful. Here, on his throne, he would be pleased. He would get release without having to think too much about Lisa. And Lisa could show John just how depraved she could be. Not that stroking a man's cock in his office is the most depraved thing Lisa would do - but for John this was a good start. Besides Lisa already is feeling her own sexual energy surge and is suddenly looking forward to her own tease - holding her own pleasure at bay - even if it means release will be delayed for a long, long time.

A song plays in Lisa's head as she pulls at the leather belt, releasing it from it's metal grasp and revealing the top button of John's tailored suit pants.

Des yeux qui font baisser les miens

Un rire qui se perd sur sa bouche

It was a song she heard many many times. Growing up in French Polynesia, her mother would play the Edith Piaf tune in their comfortable bungalow on a regular basis. At sunset the two of them would sway and perhaps even dance. Then later, she found herself singing the melody to herself during the sometimes boring, sometimes harsh but also sometimes immensely pleasurable parts of her training.

Now, kneeling in front of John the song begins in her head - '. . a smile that is lost on her mouth . . . when he takes me in his arms . . . I see life in pink". It is about being lost. It is about finding a Connection. But it is also about how Love is a best when it is perceived as a bit surreal.

She glances up to John, poised to attack the button and zip. Her eyes widen. Now she sees what John sees - a fantasy coming true. Her hair is pulled back so he can see her smooth forehead and deep blue eyes surrounded in pure white coyly looking up to him in reassurance but also pleading him to allow her to please him. Her high cheekbones and thin nose guide his gaze towards her red lips - now forming into an inviting smile and then a kiss.

Lisa rubs John's thighs through the slightly course linen fabric. Her hands move from just above his knees, toward his crotch, then divert to the sides of his buttocks just below the waist then back down to the knees. Again she caresses the linen that caresses the leg and hip. And again - but this time her hands go inward and for the first time slide up to cover the outline of his trapped male organs. He is obviously already swollen - and her caress forces a strong twitch and now his pants constrain him that much more. She shortens her caresses and playfully strokes the linen that lies between her hand and his lust. One of her hands slides underneath his crotch, palm side up to caress his underside while her other hand finds the zipper and swiftly divides John's trousers creating some much needed room.

Now both hands are back at work; one with fingers almost scratching at his soft underside and the other now working it's way inside his trousers to find his stiff member as it continues to transform. She lowers her head to his abdomen. She hums the song in her head while caressing her left check on his lower stomach. Lisa is conscious of this sublime moment of supplication - a moment filled with anticipation. She lingers. Humming. John seems to understand her quiet prayer and is quiet - just watching her. He takes a long breath and releases the air. Then he does the same again. He softly places a hand on the back of her head in reassurance. That signal wakes Lisa from her prayer. She quickly moves both hands from their current work station to deal with John's waist pant button and shirt buttons. Soon his lower torso is exposed and the top of his trousers are fileted leaving only his briefs between Lisa's waiting lips and John's scepter.

And in just one more moment Lisa reaches inside his briefs, flings Johns' dick up and over the elastic Hanes waist band and while still holding firm but off to the left sets her lips, tongue and warm moist breath on Johns belly button. Lisa's left hand holds a firm but not too tight grip. Her thumb points upward and finds the underside of the top of his penis while her other fingers curl around the top of his cock and then the hand begins it's slow handshake. Up, down and circle. Up down and circle.The thumb moves in small circles. The fingers never quite reach the top of the shaft. Up down and circle.

Lisa's tongue meanwhile meanders it's way down his abdomen. Taking it's time and alternating between kisses, licks, breaths and kisses again. John has a lean body and Lisa is beginning to experience first hand the taut physique. She smiles to herself and briefly flashes forward to see John fully naked. He is walking towards her - no she is walking towards him. He is standing up against a bookcase with his back towards her. Is he reading? Or Praying? She should know since it is her fantasy. She decides he is listening to music while examining something on the book case. He sways slightly as if in rhythm to the melody. He raises his head and cocks it back as if he hears her footsteps creeping up behind him. The muscles in his back twitch and the light catches them and casts shadows across their ridges. Her eyes work their way down to his waist and to the place where his back begins to separate into two perfectly shaped pale and hairless cheeks. She imagines placing her hands on his waist as she sidles up behind him - her own nakedness now revealed and pressed against his body. Her hands now slip from his waist to his ass. Firm. Relaxed. But then suddenly clenched as he flexes and shifts positions. Does this position trouble John?

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