okay, you asked, and i’m giving it my best shot to make a longer chapter here…and you all know that Thursday is HNT day, and my Master *orders* me to show my half-nekkid bits then, right? (not that the exhibitionist in me minds that order, btw!). So, no moaning when there is no Chapter 8 on Thursday. Unless you’re moaning over my picture, that is! LOL! ~n~
For the first time in weeks she wasn’t happy to be at her job. It seemed that she was really missing her silicone boyfriend a lot more than she should. She was horny, uncomfortably so. And maybe there was something in the air, because twice she’d unknowingly walked into trysts in corners, or in unoccupied rooms. She’d turned quickly and exited the room, but not before seeing waaaay too much of the caterer’s crew. Then again, maybe caterers were always like that. Sighing, she moved back through the main viewing area, tidying chairs that had been moved by the fucking food troops. It was starting to piss her off- every time she thought she was done, she’d make a quick check and there would be something to fix. And she had been putting off going to see if Mr. W was back in his office. She’d tried, but the first time she’d knocked on the door, there’d been no response. She’d peeked in, just in case he hadn’t heard her, but he was not there. She’d decided then to look busy, and earn her keep, as it were.
Gods, but she was exhausted. She felt drained, thick and heavy. She had no idea how she’d go into the tank in the next hour and not drown. She stood for a moment, then, decided to take a break. She sat in the front row of chairs, watching the tank. A swirl of clown fish mesmerized. Her lids drooped, and she laid across several chairs, and fell asleep.
“found her,” William spoke softly into his cell phone. “View area 3. Sleeping.”
His father’s voice came clearly, ordering him to leave her to rest as her body incubated their precious cargo. He was told to stay there and watch her.
There were more unpleasant tasks than that of watching a sexy woman sleep.
Her tits almost poured out the top of her summer dress. One long, bare leg stretched out straight, while the other was bent at the knee. The fabric of her dress followed each curve, outlining her most succulent folds. It had been all he could do last night while assisting his father to not reach out and rub those fat pussy lips. His cock stiffened at the memory.
He tried to remember that the pheromone output from the tank was enhancing everyone’s sexual desires. His cock didn’t give a shit about the science. . . pressing hard against his chinos, fighting the restrictions of cotton and zippers, all that rigid bone wanted was to bare those legs, revealing the hidden chamber where pleasure hid. He wanted to sink, balls-deep into her hot, wet, steaming cunt, and pound her until his body was drained of every ounce of juice.
Swallowing down the desire, he stepped back to the door, hoping distance would calm the raging inferno in his groin.
She woke abruptly. Her eyes opened to see Sid, plastered against the window in front of her. Sitting up stiffly, she yawned. Rising and stretching, she put her hand against the cool glass.
“I’ll be up in a minute, Sid old boy.” She broke off, yawning fiercely. The nap had been unexpected, but refreshing. She felt like she could still sleep for a few hours, but the unsettling, deep fatigue had eased. She wondered how long she’d been dozing. She’d gotten out of the habit of wearing a watch these days, falling into the simple schedule of tank and tidying. She twitched the chairs she’d slept upon into a tidy row, then left the room.
She met Mr. Withers as she was heading upstairs.
“There you are Ms. Butler. Please, come to my office.”
She hoped that she wasn’t going to get sacked for the strange little incident earlier this morning with Wyeth.
“I did come down right away, Sir,” she began, her voice sounding nervous, even to her own ears. “But you weren’t here…” she fell silent, swallowing nervously.
“Yes, I was called away by the caterer.” He ushered her into the opulence of his office. Shelves loaded with well-worn books, subtle lighting, and today, the curtains were drawn back, giving a view out to the side garden, where all that one could see were manicured lawn, flowers, and the serenity that only the outdoors could bring. There was something soothing and comforting about this room, and she knew instinctively that Mr. Withers spent a lot of time here. And who could blame him with the unbridled heat between his two sons. That had to be wearing on a man of his age. She wondered why the two men didn’t work harder to put aside their differences, and give their father some peace.
He gestured to one of the comfortable wing chairs, and not one of the “stern” chairs by his desk. He sat across from her.
“I am certain that you were upset by the …” he paused, searching for the right word. “The boys, this morning at breakfast.”
She didn’t snort, but she did blink. Boys? Why, they were full-grown, able-bodied men.
“That’s okay Mr. Withers. I have brothers and I understand the rivalries that they get into..”
He cut her off with a wave of his hand.
“Still, miss, that does not excuse your behavior. You cannot be unaware of the lure of a naked female body in a house full of men.”
She sputtered. She flushed.
“Look, Mr. Withers, with all due respect, YOU hired me to be naked. That was not my choice. Wyeth was there when I was coming out of the tank. I wasn’t in an enticing frame of mind~I just wanted out of the tank and back into my clothing. He was there, and I was there, and some things were said.”
Through her speech, Mr. Withers stared at her, his blue eyes sharp and intent. Her blush deepened.
“Mr. Withers, you must believe me, I was NOT trying to entice your son. It’s not my fault…I have breasts, okay? And …your boys…” she spoke that word with thinly veiled sarcasm, “they’ve been standing guard since day one. Why, today, that made a difference, I have no idea. He touched me, and I didn’t want it and then it was different and then…”
He cut her off with another slash of his hand. She was rambling, and not offering the logical argument she’d been rehearsing all morning.
“Accepted. Now, I believe you have duties to attend to.” And just like that, it was over. He stood and went to the door. She was bewildered. The rich really were different. She stepped into the hallway, and frowned as the door shut quietly behind her.
“He can be a bastard. I wouldn’t mind him all that much.” William’s voice broke into her thoughts. She didn’t like these people. She wished they’d all just go the fuck away and let her do her job.
“I have a job to do.” She strode down the hallway. He easily kept pace with her, hands in his pockets. The annoying jerk.
“So, my pansy-assed brother made a move on you this morning, eh?”
She stopped, closing her eyes, and took a deep breath. She turned to him, opening her eyes. That sardonic smile made her want to bite it off his face. She growled. Her hands closed into fists, and she almost, almost, gave into the urge to punch the fuck out of his smug mouth.
At her growl, he raised one eyebrow, and canted his head to the side. The corner of his mouth danced a faint smile, and she growled again. Raising her hands, she shoved him back towards the wall. His hands covered hers where they fisted in his shirt almost over his nipples, and he leaned back against the wall, tugging her close.
“Yes?” He drawled, watching her mouth.
“You…you…all of you…”
His mouth silenced her.