101 EROTICA STORIES (75 page)

Hank seemed to realize what she was thinking because he stopped playing with her breasts all of a sudden. “Like I said, I like women with big tits,” he reminded her, not removing his hands.

She looked up at him and smiled sweetly. “Boy, you do have the guts. But you are well aware this is an interview, right?” She sighed as his thumb ran back and forth over her nipple.

“Fuck the interview,” Hank answered. “I came here for a piece of meat, and I got it.” He looked at her. “I suppose you think you have the best job in the world.”

Nadine shook her head. “Imagine having to screw old men.” She made a face.

“Sucks,” Hank agreed.

Nadine slid off the desk and started to get dressed herself. “I like you, Hank,” she told him as she slipped on her skirt. “You’d make a good man around here.” She put on her silky top. “But I don’t call the shots, of course. I’m just here to give the big bosses an impression, and they take it from there.” She ran her fingers through her hair, fixing the strands in place. “But you know what I’ll be giving you, I suppose.” She smiled broadly.

Hank shrugged. “Your call, Nadine,” he said. “I really don’t care. It doesn’t matter. I got what I wanted, anyway.” He grinned wolfishly.

Nadine laughed. “A smooth talker, aren’t we?”

Hank retrieved Nadine’s stained panties from the floor. He held it out to her, but as she moved to take them, he snatched his hand back.

“Hank!” she exclaimed.

He shook his head. “I’m taking them with me, babe,” he said, grinning. “Something to remember and smell you by.”

“Pig,” she said, scowling.

“But a handsome pig,” he shot back. He gave the panties one more sniff before sticking them into the pockets of his jeans. “Well, I suppose we’re done now.” He spread his hands. “Can I go now?”

Something came over Nadine then. She didn’t like the idea of seeing Hank Thomas leave and go and maybe never see him again. She glanced at her wristwatch. A few more minutes before the allotted one hour per candidate was up. But she didn’t have anyone on the list after Hank Thomas. She knew the bosses wouldn’t have a cow if she decided to extend the “interview” for several minutes more. Maybe even a half hour more.

No, they wouldn’t care at all.

Nadine made a decision. She unbuttoned her top and unzipped her skirt and again slid out of them. She watched with delight as Hank’s eyes grew wide.

“What the hell are you doing?” he asked.

She stepped into his arms. “We’re not done yet, Mr. Thomas,” she said gleefully. “You know what to do next.”

Hank did just that.

She tossed and turned on her bed, unable to get a wink of sleep despite how tired she felt. She craned her neck to take a glance at the clock on her bedside table, stifling as groan as the red lights flashed 2:05 AM back at her. No matter how tired her body felt, her mind kept her awake, thoughts racing about what the day meant for her. September 29th, a month into her junior year in college, just happened to be Samantha Holland’s birthday. She wasn’t usually big into celebrating her birthday but this year was a little different. Jack Kincaid, her boyfriend of three years, was now at medical school in Northwestern University in Chicago while she was still in NYU. She sighed, mentally berating herself at how she shouldn’t blame him for not being with her since he had no fault. But she couldn’t help but be sad at the thought that it was the first of many important dates that they were going to miss celebrating together.

After minutes of staring up at the ceiling and still getting no sleep, Samantha pushed herself off the bed, thinking of making a cup of hot chocolate to help her calm down. She padded through her dorm room quietly, not wanting to cause too much of a ruckus and end up waking up her roommate. Just as she was about to step into the small kitchen area, there was a quiet rap against the door. She froze mid step, brows furrowing together as she tried to figure out who could have been knocking at that ungodly hour. She took a quick look into the peephole and let out a gasp, quickly unlatching the deadbolt and unlocking the door to let her visitor in.

There stood Jack, a bouquet of pink and white roses in his hand. “You didn’t think I’d let your birthday pass with just a stupid phone call, did you?” he asked with a lopsided grin.

She flashed a soft smile before moving to let him through the door, wrapping her arms around his waist when he got close enough. “You didn’t have to come,” she mumbled into his chest, inhaling deeply to take in the masculine scent of his cologne. “The flight would have cost you. You should have saved the money instead. And let’s not even talk about the time you’re wasting with travel when you can get some rest. I know you’re busy with school too.”

“When it means I get to be with you, no matter how long or short it is, or how much money it would cost me, it doesn’t matter,” he said matter-of-factly, placing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “All that matters is that we’re together and I love you. Happy birthday, Sammie.”

“Thank you,” she replied, standing on her tiptoes to meet his lips in a soft kiss.

“Now let’s get you to bed,” he whispered into her ear, his hot breath fanning against her cheek.

“Birthday sex?” she whispered back in a playful tone.

Jack chuckled lowly, shaking his head at his girlfriend’s antics. Raising the bouquet that he still held in his hand, he silently asked where he could put it, accepting a quick peck on the lips as she moved out of their embrace so she could find a vase to put the flowers in.

“I need you to promise me something,” he said as she busied herself with taking the bouquet out of its elaborate wrap and putting it in the water-filled container. When she threw her head over her shoulder to give him a look, he continued. “Can you promise not to leave marks on my back? Coz I really don’t want to explain that to my roommates when we’re sitting at the breakfast table shirtless.”

She bit down on her bottom lip to keep from laughing, her brown eyes shining with mirth. “I promise,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck once she made it back to him.

“Somehow, I doubt that face,” he mumbled, his head beginning to inch its way down to hers. “But what the hell?”

He picked her up off the floor suddenly, dashing into her bedroom as quietly as possible, her head tucked into his neck to muffle her giggling. He gently kicked her door shut when they had made it, her body now shaking with laughter.

“Keep quiet,” he whispered before putting her back on her feet. He took a few stray strands of hair that were framing her face, tucking them behind her ears, smiling softly when she leaned into his touch. “You’re beautiful, you know that?”

“Really?” she asked wistfully, earning a curt nod in response. “Show me.”

Jack pulled her back into his embrace, his arms finding their way around her waist. His gaze made her feel as if he was boring into her being, staring directly at her soul. Samantha felt as if everything was in slow motion, that there was nothing else that surrounded her, nothing but his warm embrace. Her knees buckled beneath her when his lips finally descended upon hers, almost sinking into the floor if not for his strong grip on her.

He picked her back up and made the short distance over to her bed, laying her gently on top of the cool blue sheets before stripping out of his clothes. “You’re wearing too much,” he said lowly as he noticed her stare. “Off, now.”

She sat up and did as she was told, his hands covering hers as she stripped off her clothes, his fingers caressing every patch of creamy skin that was exposed. He gently pushed her to lie back down, crawling on top of her. He pressed his lips against hers in a passionate kiss, his tongue tracing the seam of her lips, delving in when she had granted him entry, low moans escaping from their throats at the taste of each other’s tongues.

He reluctantly broke away from her lips, making his way down to her neck, licking and biting gently, enjoying the soft sighs that she was making. His lips made their way further down, placing loving kisses all over her skin, suckling her breasts before moving down her torso. He grabbed the back of her knees and hooked them over his shoulders, his hot breath fanning the inside of her thighs. He chuckled softly when he saw her hands fly up to her mouth, no doubt anticipating the loud cry she was going to let out.

Dipping his head down, he pressed a hot kiss against her wet center, his tongue circling her clit slowly. Her breaths came out in short gasps at his ministrations, from the feel of his hot mouth suckling on her clit to the way his fingers pumped in and out of her heat, it wasn’t long before she was sent hurtling into orgasm.

He crawled back up her form, their lips meeting in a passionate kiss, the taste of her own sex still on his tongue. She was pushing against his shoulders, hoping he would roll over so she could return the favor, but he had merely shaken his head. “Not tonight babe,” he said. “This is all about you.”

Slipping off the bed, he fished his wallet from his jeans pocket, fetching a foil packet. He quickly sheathed himself with the thin rubber before making his way back to her.

Samantha buried her head into his neck as Jack pushed into her, completely being filled by his hard cock. He lay kisses up and down her neck as she ran her hands over the expanse of his back and chest, weaving her fingers through his hair, pulling his face up to press a hard kiss to his lips to drown out her moaning his name.

“Come with me,” he said, whispering against her lips.

She wrapped her legs around his waist, grinding her hips against his to meet each hard thrust, both reaching their climax soon after. He groaned into her neck, trying desperately to keep himself held up above her and not collapse from the intensity of his orgasm.

“Jack,” she whimpered, jolts of electricity shooting through her limbs as she felt his pulsing cock still trapped in her heat.

He pulled out of her, still not leaving her arms, just enjoying the last remnants of their coupling. He lifted his head from where it lay on her chest, gazing at her with heavy-lidded eyes. “Happy birthday.”

“Happy birthday indeed,” Samantha said, a contented sigh leaving her lips as she looked up at him with a soft smile. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he replied, pressing a gentle kiss against her full mouth. “Now if you can give me a couple of minutes to recuperate,” he continued, a smirk tugging up at the corner of his lips. “I fully intend on making sure that the remaining 8 hours I spend in New York are spent celebrating your birthday over and over again.”

Everyone knows what desperation does to a person, and Betty Wilkes was desperate enough. As she sat in the waiting area, well, awaiting the interview for a job that she vaguely knew about, she thought someone should place her photo right next to desperation in the dictionary. There were three other people in the waiting area with her, but the way she wasn’t paying them any attention, they might as well have been invisible. For Betty, nothing mattered now but that goddamn job.

She caught herself gnawing at her knuckles again, a bad habit she had been trying to give since high school. She stopped herself, discreetly wiping her hand on a lace handkerchief she had bought for today’s special occasion. She knew all about first impressions, but she knew more about making lasting ones. Sure, skills matter, but image was everything. She knew her lace handkerchief would burn into the interviewer’s memory, seal the image of her into his/her brain. And with that, she would snag the job.

Betty gave a quick glance at her watch and saw she still had a good fifteen minutes before her interview was set to begin. The ladies’ room was only a few paces down from where she was seated, so she murmured some barely audible excuse to the other three people—who might as well be invisible, really—and stood up hurriedly, walking the few steps to the restroom with a kind of hurried clumsiness. She wanted to smack herself for being so obviously nervous, but as she sneaked a look around, she realized no one was paying even the slightest bit of attention to her. Everyone, from the three other applicants to the startlingly attractive brunette receptionist, was wrapped in their own thought bubble. For Betty, she could have stripped down to her underwear in the middle of the room, and still nobody would spare her a tiny glance.

She hurriedly slipped into the ladies’ room, softly shutting the door behind her. She leaned on the restroom’s lone sink and stared at the restroom’s lone mirror hanging over the solitary sink. What stared back was a girl who looked the slightest bit harried yet still pretty enough to qualify for a few admiring glances should she walk down a busy street.

Betty studied her face. Her features, taken individually, were plain enough. But when put together, they made for a striking sight. Her hair was brown but not mousy—Thank God, she thought with relief—but not in a shade that was pretty enough, like that of the receptionist, for instance. Her eyes were hazel with tiny specks of green that gave of a just the tiniest bit of a glint when the lighting was right. Her skin was fair but not pale, and it was as clear as when she was in high school. Her nose looked regular enough to her. Her lips were pink but thinner than she would have liked them. She had always wanted to get them done, convinced that a full pair of puckers was all it took to send her discreet beauty rocketing off the charts.

Maybe she’ll get that long-desired procedure done after she snags the job, she mused, as she ran her fingers over her hair and fluffed the brown strands up a bit with her fingers.

With ten minutes still before the interview, Betty studied her body next. She had worn her favorite navy blue wraparound dress for the occasion.  It was the only thing in her closet that still clung to the right curves and hid the unwanted flabs—not that she had anything in her body that even slightly resembled a flab—and at the same time gave the person wearing it a polished, elegant look. Her other dresses had been too revealing, too skanky. She was very tempted to pick those alluring dresses over the simple navy, but common sense had prevailed and she finally set her mind on the navy dress.

For someone who was in her early twenties, Betty had a stunning figure. She stood about five feet seven, not as tall as she would have liked, but it made dating men easier. She had a slightly skinny build that suggested she was naturally slender and not anorexic, unlike some people she personally knew. Her shoulders were a bit too broad for her liking, but she could live with that. Her eyes went to her breasts next.

After making sure she was all alone in the restroom, Betty placed her hands over her breasts. She loved her set. They weren’t, in any way, huge, but they were shaped very well, with their perfect round form and insane perkiness. She was proud of the fact her tits looked good enough to it. Heck, she had been told that countless times!

Without thinking, she moved the fabric of her wraparound dress to reveal a lacy bra that was in a shade of blue that matched her dress. Then it was the lacy bra’s turn to move aside to reveal the luscious bit of flesh that lay concealed beneath it. She bared one breast for no one to see but her, but she didn’t mind.

She watched as the sleeping pink nipple, first so flat and without a care in the world around it, slowly showed signs of life. The restroom’s bracing air jolted it awake, stirring it into the stiff, erect position that showed the body was reacting to whatever was in its owner’s mind.

Betty’s breathing went from regular to something that resembled a slightly heavy panting. She brought a hand to the now–fully erect nipple and gave it a gentle pinch. The motion sent shivers down her spine, and she gasped, but she liked it. She liked how it made her feel, how it made her heat up, and how it made her feel hot and sexy. Then she had an idea. Another quick look at her watch showed she had now only five minutes before the big event. There was no time to waste now.

Betty, with her eyes fixed on her own reflection in the large mirror hanging over the restroom’s lone sink, continued to tug and pull at her own nipple. She bit her lip and gave off soft little moans at the same time as her fingers dug into her breast and gripped it furiously. She pulled at her breast meat and pinched her nipple. She didn’t realize it right away, but her other hand had snaked to the secret mound between her thighs and too began to move and squirm there. When she came to what she was doing, an initial sense of shame came over her. Then she thought, Why should I be ashamed?

That did it. She shoved her embarrassment aside and concentrated again on pleasuring herself. The hand down there snaked beneath the hem of the simple navy dress. It was a hand that not only knew what to do but also where to look. And it was an impatient hand. It pushed aside the lace panties—navy blue, of course—that hid what it wanted to seek. It settled over the soft, delicate flesh without much finesse, and that was when she found out she was soaking wet.

Betty giggled. She couldn’t believe how she was getting wet when, in a few minutes, she would be having her job interview! The thought excited her, and she immediately plunged two of her fingers inside her wet slit. The action made her moan but out loud this time. She glanced around frantically as soon as her moan slipped out. Of course there was nobody else around, but the sound was much too much for her liking.

Her fingers slid in and out of her most private place. With her other hand still on her breast, she began to move her hips in time with the thrusting of her hand down there. Bucking her hips while in three-inch heels wasn’t the easiest task in the world, but she managed. Her fingers went in and out faster and faster. So did the hand on her breast, pulling and tugging at the firm meat of her tit in a hurried frenzy. She was close to coming now. She thought of removing her panties so as she could at least feel clean during the interview, but it was too late. She came a few seconds later right into the crotch of her lace underwear. She cried out softly as she came, placing a hand on the sink to steady herself as she shut her eyes and let the shakes consume her. Her hand was soaked and covered in a clear whitish fluid in no time.

When Betty felt it was over, she glanced at her watch and saw she now only had a minute to go before her name was called. That jolted her into action. She stood up straight and hurriedly fixed her rumpled clothing. The wet and sticky feeling in her panties did nothing to increase her comfort, but she resolved to ignore the sensation at least until after the interview was done. She fluffed her hair up again and gave her cheeks, already rosy from the quick session she had done minutes ago, a few brisk slaps to make them look rosier and more flushed. She gave her hands a quick but thorough rinse. After checking the mirror to make sure she looked good enough and meant business at the same time, she stepped out of the restroom and back into the waiting area.

Betty had sat down for only several seconds when the attractive brunette receptionist called out her name. She stood up, adjusted her dress, and walked over to the reception area. She saw the receptionist was even more stunning up close. The girl smiled at her.

“Betty Wilkes?” she asked.

Betty nodded. “That’s right.” She gave a dazzling smile of her own and saw the girl relax a bit. Good. She needed all the help she could get to snag this job, and it didn’t hurt to leave a good impression to the girl at the front desk.

“Just go right in,” the girl told Betty. “Ms. Olsen’s waiting for you inside.” She lowered her voice. “Just give her that smile you gave me a minute ago, and you’re good to go.” She grinned. “She has a thing for brunettes.”

Betty’s brow furrowed. “I don’t get you,” she said.

The receptionist smirked but not unkindly. “You’ll know what I mean,” she said mysteriously. She nodded toward the door beside the reception area. “Now go. She’s expecting you now.”

Betty nodded and walked to the door. She was puzzled. What did the girl mean by Ms. Olsen, whoever she was, having a thing for brunettes? A voice whispered at the back of her mind that of course she had to know what it meant, but she refused to listen to the voice.

Whatever, she thought. No point in losing my focus now. I just have to have this job!

Betty pushed the door open and cautiously walked into the room. The room was less spacious than she had expected, but it was clean and done tastefully. As she shut the door behind her, her gaze came to rest on a slim blond woman seated behind the table. The woman was dressed in a sharp and crisp white suit with tinges of green around the collar and cuffs. The green made a perfect contrast to the woman’s green eyes, making them stand out even more. The woman stood up as soon as Betty walked it.

“Good morning,” the woman said warmly. “You must be Betty Wilkes, am I right?” She smiled. Betty saw she had perfect teeth and an even more perfect pair of lips. “I’m Nina Olsen.”

Betty smiled and shook Nina Olsen’s hand. She was smiling outside, yes, but inside she was confused and nervous as hell. She couldn’t believe the firm would hire someone as gorgeous as Nina Olsen and not have regrets about it. Nina Olsen was a woman who was born to sashay down runways and draped in expensive runway clothing. Nina Olsen was a woman who was born to grace countless numbers of print and billboard ads. Nina Olsen was a woman who was born to see and be seen. For Betty, she wasn’t the type to be confined behind a desk in a small yet tasteful room in some concrete building that was painted in cold shades of blue and silver.

Betty was so consumed in her own thoughts that she didn’t realize Nina was speaking to her. She came to quickly and flashed a slightly toned down version of her killer smile.

“I’m sorry I didn’t catch what you were saying, Ms. Olsen,” Betty said. “It’s just that you’re so pretty.” She blushed when she said it, and the blush said things.

Nina laughed and waved a hand around dismissively. “Call me Nina, Betty,” she said. “I see Rachel must have told you, well, things. Do you believe her?” She adjusted her seat and leaned closer to the table, her green eyes fixed on Betty.

Betty was unsure how to go about the situation. She decided to go down the honesty route. It wouldn’t be good to lie, not with Nina and Rachel, whom Betty believed was the pretty receptionist, apparently on very good terms.

“Yes, she has,” Betty said carefully. Her hands began to twist and turn in her lap, but the movement was far from erotic now. She was suddenly nervous.

“What did she say, Betty?” Nina asked. “Wait, you don’t mind me calling you by your first name, do you?”

Betty shook her head. “Not at all, miss—I mean, Nina.”

“Good,” Nina said. She leaned back on her seat, nodding approvingly. “I see Rachel likes you enough to tell you what she has always known about me.” She paused for a moment, obviously trying to figure out what words to say. “Rachel’s opinion matters to me, Betty,” she said finally. “See, I’m a lesbian.”