Wet Slippery Surprisingly Warm

"Will Moss the supermarket owner's son?"

"I'm sure that's the only Will Moss we know," Jessica smiled. "These things happen. Will and I belong to the same gym and now the country club and are members of Little Theatre and the same ski club. We appear to have been thrown together and his parents are lovely to me. Alas the sex is nothing to write home about, not that my parents would want to read that kind of letter. You know I've never had one that could fill me like yours did."

"Go on, Frank Lund must have sunk one into you."

"Well yes, several times in fact, but you were fatter, longer and wielded it more expertly Blake."

Blake went home in a daze. Bigger and better than even the legendary Frank Lund who many ex high school and college babes would remember for the rest of their lives.

Wow.

Betty watched her son swagger up to the door, a stupid grin on his face.

"Have you been having sex?" she asked when he came into the kitchen, believing she'd read the signs accurately.

"Nah, I've been yarning to Jessica Clay."

"Blake you whore. You keep your hands off that beautiful young lady, do you hear? She is the lead signer in our church choir and we all love her because she's so pure and lovely. Later this year she marries Clive and Jennifer Moss's son. It will probably be the Wedding of the Year for this city."

"Aw mom, just because I like fucking babes doesn't make me a whore."

"That's the label you'll wear if you dare touch Jessica. You haven't touched her have you?"

"No mom. We just had coffee and chatted about old times."

"I want you to keep away from her, do you hear?"

"That won't be difficult. I leave for New York in the morning."

Blake wonders what the hell was the world coming to? As a high school senior and at college, Jessica Clay would have given any professional whore a run for her money, er, would have been just as busy carnally. Now somehow Jessica appeared to have created herself into a Madonna.

Unbelievable.

Blake was almost asleep when his phone went.

"Hi it's Jess."

"Jesus hi. How did you get my number?"

"It's the same number you had at college. I keep it with precious things in my treasure box."

"Is that special box wet, slippery and surprisingly warm?"

"What on earth are you talking about?"

"Nothing."

"Oh you are disgusting. I know what that is."

"Well you spent half your life sitting on it."

"Blake, please. Those crazy days of satisfying practically any guy who had a dick at the ready are behind me. I have become a model of respectability."

"Yes Jess. Bye."

"No wait. You sound sad Blake. I want you to know you and dad are the only two people I allow to call me Jess."

"I only called you that just now because you used that name."

"Well what does that tell you Blake? I cried thinking about our brief meeting today. Bye."

She cut the call. Blake switched off his phone wondering what the hell was that about. He'd dicked her once and only the once and she wished to remember him. Jesus women were so hard to understand. What's more he'd fucked her like a chump.

Next day as the airplane approached JFK across Jamaica Bay Blake suddenly knew what it was with Jess: he'd been her first virgin, and probably her only one.

He sat stunned. What an amazing way to become 'special' to a woman.

* * *

The director of marketing of Great Butt Lingerie International was briefing Blake when she looked at him and said what?

"You have great tits."

Momentarily confused she managed, "Well I'm wearing one of our top-line products. Then her top lip curled and she stood and delivered.

"Mr Boxhill, I don't believe you are suitable to head our research program."

"Please yourself," Blake said, and standing without looking at her turned and had almost reached the door of her plush office when she said, "Why didn't you apologize and beg for a second chance?"

"Partly because if you reject me then you reject me. The other reason is I'm a guy and we are programmed to eye great tits... isn't that why they are there? What should I apologize for responding to my carnal instinct?"

"Your explanation is difficult to counter. Perhaps if you hadn't addressed my breasts as tits and been so rude..."

"Are you a female control freak?"

"Get out of my office you pig."

Blake left the building realizing he was alone and jobless in Manhattan.

Oh great.

He did what anyone else in his predicament would do. He went for coffee.

Money wasn't a problem for the young man. He had sufficient to last for at least a year without supplementing it. The problem was he'd taken a bit of knock to his ego. Usually women didn't berate him until after he'd fucked them, not before like the wide butt Miss Nina Gray of Great Butt Lingerie. But even as Julius Caesar would say...

His phone went (No Julius didn't say that).

It was his job search agency Nicola Young.

"Great Butt Lingerie has just called saying your contract has been cancelled."

"Yeah I fucked up. I told Miss Gray she had great tits."

"I have two comments about that Blake. The first is that was an appalling thing to say to a woman without seconds of meeting her for the first time."

"Conceded."

"The second thing is you've never complimented me like that, even if my breasts are less than spectacular."

"You're married and are my professional agent. It was therefore inappropriate to address you in that manner."

"Oh. Um you do have the skill to behave appropriately, at least most of the time."

"Thank you."

"Well you can thank me for negotiating a breach of contract settlement. I argued Miss Gray had been unreasonable in her actions resulting from your friendly comments..."

"My what?"

"I was attempting to rile their company attorney and succeeded. He called me a stupid, insensitive bitch."

"Oh well done. How much?"

"We take our usual 15% cut for services rendered in terminating the contract. The offer accepted was $15,000."

"God you are a jewel Mrs Young."

"You are welcome Mr Boxhill. Since you are already in New York, hang on to your hotel room. Here are the details of another client I have managed to match you with."

* * *

Blonde Mrs Thelma Champion came to the door of the penthouse dressed only in a robe, well as far as Blake could ascertain. She had the flushed face and wide eyes of a woman who's recently, very recently, been fucked.

"Come through Mr Boxhill," she said, eyeing him, and lead him to guy sitting in his office who looked rather exhausted.

"Bad day at the office?"

Ronald sniggered and smacked the hard butt of his much younger wife as she left.

He sniggered again. "I go to the office for relief."

Ronald didn't explain relief from what.

What he did explain was monthly revenues from his two stores had dropped and he could see the time approaching when his business would be a loss-making venture.

"I own both stores and could sell the properties for a killing but that's not what I wish to do."

"What is it you wish to do Mr Champion?"

"Call me Ronald. Young man I just want to buy stock, watch customers happily buying and come home to eat and do what the mood takes me."

"Mrs Champion?"

Ronald grinned. "You speak my language young man. Mrs Champion takes me often."

Blake said, "The contract I have taken is chicken shit, only ten grand and the agency takes 15% of that. I can look at your business and find quick fixes that may or may not last or I can make a thorough study and come up with long-lasting solutions guaranteed."

Ronald licked his lips a pulled out something from between his teeth, probably pubic hair. "How much?"

"Thirty grand and you'll need to forward that extra amount to the agency. I won't cheat you and I won't cheat the agency."

Ronald suggested an extra ten grand placed straight into Blake's back pocket.

"No so your choice is the quick fix?"

Ronald scratched his groin and thought about it.

"Okay I'll pay the extra twenty to the agency and ask them to send you an amended copy of the contract as agreed to by the agency and me."

"Fine."

"Mrs Champion will be getting us late breakfast. You are invited to join us. You go out to her while I dress. After breakfast you and I will visit both stores and I'll instruct the managers to cooperate fully with you. How long should this take?"

"Twenty-one working days."

Ronald's face turned purple. "That's more than $1400 a day."

"You surgeon would probably hand you a bill for two hundred grand for working on you for six hours Mr Champion. These figures are what we pay for professional help. Your attorney probably charges you 500 bucks an hour."

Ronald scowled. "You better be good young man."

Twenty days later Ronald took Blake to lunch.

"I'll write my report tomorrow Ronald but basically my recommendation is to keep Mrs Champion in the kitchen or on the bed or wherever you two do it."

"Now look here young man..."

"Ronald, while you have been fucking your new wife she has been thinking how to revamp your business. The results of her firing all former salespeople and bringing in young kids who know next to nothing about expensive jewelry means she has fucked up your business. You clientele don't like the new under-lit counters and bright spotlights, at least 88% of your regular clientele I interviewed from your customer lists don't like those changes and 92.7% expressed dissatisfaction with your new salespeople, 29% of them actually saying your new staff know fuck all, or words to that effect."

"Are you certain about this?"

"Yes I hired two university students and along with my report you will receive 226 questionnaires they completed from their face-to-face surveys."

"To the question, "What would you like to see changed, 91% responded, "For the store to be returned to how it was, or words to that effect."

"To the question are you still a regular customer of Champion Jewelry, 58% replied no and to the question if the store you used to shop at returned to its original state would you return to the store, 97.6% responded to the affirmative."

"Jesus."

"These are sober findings Ronald."

"Yes but I was more comfortable with the dingy interior of the stores with their highly-polished wood and glass-fronted cabinets. The entire premises had character and mothers would bring their daughters with them and now those daughters bring their daughters, or were until custom began to fall away drastically."

"Well you now have reasons justifying turning the clock back."

"Yes fortunately I couldn't bear to part with some of the better display cabinets and have them in my warehouse. I mean who the fuck wants strobe lighting in a family jewelry store? The modern young chicks my wife wanted to attract buy cheap or over-priced expensive junk at the malls and arcades. God I've been so stupid."

"Another recommendation Ronald will be to run a 'Turning Back the Clock Jewelry Sale' with the first two hours on the first day of the sale open only to bearers of invitations and they'll be your customers and former customers who'll each receive two invitation. Guess who'll be happy about that Ronald?"

"Yeah I know but still thirty grand for this information was very, very expensive."

"But a legitimate business expense Ronald and that will help offset your tax bill."

"Yeah but you know I would have thought about that before I hired you."

"Good boy Ronald. Now just a tip: Ban your wife from your stores unless she'd buying."

Ronald grinned. "It's been a real pleasure working with you young man. And that includes those tips you gave me about keeping a younger woman sexually satisfied. It never occurred to me to place the woman on top and tell her to go to it. If I hadn't over-paid you I would have given you a big bonus."

Blake departed knowing he'd performed well for Ronald. A year's boosted profit would probably wipe out Ronald's costs of having his business downturn investigated and analyzed and paying for retro conversion of the two premises.

The only concern Blake had was he'd gone for the best part of a month without sex. That simply would not do. He was not attracted by the overtures of Ronald's wife, principally because she appeared predatory.

Predatory? Blake wheezed to himself. He thought did such thinking suggest he was gaining maturity?

CHAPTER 2

During the 15-day gap when hanging out in Chicago with two lots of college friends while awaiting his next contract offer from the agency, Blake's mom sent him a newspaper clipping of their home town's 'Wedding of the Year' with supermarket heir Will Moss marrying beautiful child psychologist Jessica Clay.

Oh Jess, Blake groaned, thinking he really would have appreciated an invitation to the wedding. He wouldn't have accepted, he decided, but didn't understand why. Oh yeah he did, as his emotions surged; he knew he would have sat there thinking about leaping up and hammering fucking Will Moss to pulp. How dare Will marry above himself.

Moments later Blake steadied himself. He had no claim; he'd done nothing to prove his worth to Jess. He should butt out.

* * *

Wealthy Texan Norma Whitehead, widow of oilman Clifford Whitehead Jnr, looked at Blake and said, "You are much younger than I expected."

"I'm twenty-six and nothing I can do can change that ma'am."

"Do try to simplify your replies," she drawled. "Did your agency brief you what this is about?"

"No."

"Don't you mean no ma'am?"

"You ask for direct answers."

A grin reformed her wrinkled face. "You are too clever for words so I accept that reply. One of my trusted aides is milking me dry; there are unexplained amounts of money and company assets missing."

"There's a good chance more than one of your executive may be fiddling."

"Well yes. Is that good or bad?"

"Bad. Two or more executives could hide their tracks better."

"The agency that uses you for clients with difficult problems says you are one of the great businesses analysts around because you rely heavily on instinct."

"Yes."

"Oh whoopee. Aren't we having a robust, intellectual conversation?"

Blake withheld his reply.

"Well."

"Just brief me ma'am and issue instructions."

"God most of the men I know you can't stop them talking."

"You asked me not to befuddle you ma'am or words to that effect."

"Oh trust me to over-react."

Forty minutes later Blake left and went to the offices of Faber and Wilks, Accountants and Auditors, where Mrs Whitehead had arranged for him to be engaged as a temporary auditor to investigate her complex business interests to try to uncover misappropriation that the team from Faber and Wilks had failed to uncover.

Geoffrey Webster, managing partner, gave Blake his credentials and said his security card would be issued within twenty-four hours after a security clearance was confirmed. Blake would spend two days with senior audit personnel being briefed on the way they handled audits and to learn about the executives he'd be dealing with.

On the second night in Dallas Blake was approached by a big bust blonde.

He told her to buzz off, not wishing to be picked up by women in bars because he had no idea where they'd been. He accepted he had not idea where any woman had been but it was logical to reason that women who picked up men in bars had been involved in many situations, far more than your overage housewife, girl next-door or female from an office.

"I'm to be the go-between for you and my mother. I'm Loretta Reeves. Please follow me to a booth."

Nice ass for someone approaching fifty, Blake speculated. She could be a good fuck despite her age.

"Will we date?" Blake asked, looking at her rather deep cleavage.

"Mr Blake, I'm married and are at least sixteen years your senior."

"I reckon you can still do it and do it good. When your mother said no phone messages and I did suggest it would be best if someone she trusted and I made our exchanged in crowded restaurants where electronic surveillance equipment would have great difficulty picking up conversations. Bars and cinemas are not to be trusted. You mother seems paranoid about security."

"Well she's paying $70,000 for you to try to crack this thing, plus a seventy grand bonus if you succeed."

"So we date?"

"I suppose so."

"Write down the names of ten restaurants. Book us in them in order each Tuesday and Friday night at 8:00 and we'll visit them in the order you are writing them down."

Loretta wrote down the names of twelve restaurants she often visited.

"My mother is being paranoid about security, isn't she?"

"She wants this siphoning stopped. I can understand her anguish. You'll need to duplicate that list so you have a copy for your self."

"Oh yes of course."

During general conversation over a couple of drinks Blake learned she was married to a retired neurosurgeon.

As they were leaving she said, "I've changed my mind about you. You exhibit suppressed sexuality on a scale I've not come across before."

"Lucky you," Blake said, kissing her lightly on the lips and walking off.

Nearing the fourth time they'd met at a restaurant, Loretta palmed Blake the key-card to a room in a hotel she named.

"I think we should have sex."

He smiled and said he thought so too. His balls were breaking for it.

"It will be anal, only my husband has the front door."

Then forget it.

She looked furious but quickly calmed. "Very well."

"Good," he smiled and told her he'd been in the room in thirty-minutes and asked where was the action.

"Give me five minutes," she scowled.

Loretta was already on the bed on her back, panties off and her dress pulled up over her hips.

"Not good enough; I want you nude and to see your tits swinging."

"I'm forty-eight and carrying extra weight."

"That's no problem. I'll find it providing it's located in the usual place."

"God you are crude."

Blake said, "Give me five grand and we'll do it your way, up the butt."

She was carrying heaps of money and peeled off $5000. "This is making me feel like a whore."

"If you've never been a whore you won't know what the feeling is."

"God my mother is right. You are a difficult person."

On the next Tuesday night when Blake entered the room of a different hotel Loretta was waiting fully dressed.

"Last Friday night was okay but I thought you way perhaps might jazz me up more."

"Okay, that will be five grand."

Loretta poised to rant but then thought better of it. She peeled off the money without comment.

Blake removed his jacket and tie and kicked off his shoes. He then moved in smoothly, pressing half against her side, cupped her vulva and squeezed and kissed her.

"Omigod," Loretta said when breaking away for a breath. "No guy has cupped me like that first up since college days."

"I figured you'd want a great time for five grand when you aren't calling the shots."

"I certainly do," she said.

Blake calmly ripped open the front of her dress.

"You bastard. This dress was new and the dressmaker charged me one and a half grand."

"Are you complaining?" Blake said, unzipping and pulling out his piece.

"N-n-no," Loretta said, face reddening even more.

Blake removed her slip and bra and sucked her tits until she was groaning and simulating sex thrusting against his leg.

He pulled down her panties and sniffed loudly over her groin.

"Oh god, you are foul... and exciting," she moaned.

Blake led her to the sturdy coffee table and leant her over it on to her back.

"Stick a finger up your butt."

"Blake that's disgusting."

"Either you stick your finger up or I'll do it for you and that could hurt you."

Blake watched and she groaned, not having wet the finger.

He saw tears of lube appearing through her pussy lips and grinned.

He rolled on a condom.

"I'm fucking front-end first. In the meantime you get another finger in your butt and widen it."