Kiss and Tell 3 (6 page)

About an hour and a half after I walked into Dessert Oasis with an itch in my sweet tooth, I left the place fully satisfied. I’d not only delighted in a sweet treat but also walked away with what was, more or less, a job offer.

Michelle and I talked for nearly an hour, and she liked enough about me and my personality to take the risk and recommend me for hire. She explained that she just had to clear it with her bosses, the higher-ups, and said that she’d be in touch with me within a few days.

The way she put things, I pretty much had the job in the basket. But, I knew not to count my eggs before they hatched, and I took everything Michelle said with a grain of salt and tried to remain very realistic about it.

Still, I was pretty excited though. I had a better shot at having a job when I left Dessert Oasis than I had when I’d arrived there, and it was enough to lift my spirits up and give me wings for the rest of the day, not that I needed them, considering where I was going.

Stonegate Tower was just a few blocks away from Dessert Oasis, and it took me no time to get there. I skittled down the street quickly, trying to keep my strides short. I’d worn a knee-length skirt with no panties beneath, and I didn’t want to catch a crosswind and let everyone in town see the little tuft I’d carved out for Anthony’s eyes only.

When I got to Stonegate Tower, I was content that I made it there without flashing anyone, and I stood back to take in the building for a moment. I’d just been there two days earlier, but I still wasn’t used to its massive size and foreboding structure, and I wasn’t used to the buzzing activity inside of it either. The entire place overwhelmed me and made me feel uneasy, and the elevator lift up to the 12th floor made my stomach turn over.

I started to feel better again when I got to Parker & Swift’s office, where I was very kindly greeted by the same young girl who’d greeted me the other day. She looked as if she recognized me, and as if she was expecting me.

“Miss Miller, right?” she asked.

I smiled and nodded.

“Mr. Swift is expecting you,” she went on. “Should I buzz him now, or would you like a moment?”

“Now’s fine,” I replied. I didn’t see what another minute or two would get me. Maybe if I were here for a real interview or meeting I’d need the time to give myself a pep talk.

The receptionist turned around in her chair, clicked a button somewhere, and said something into her Bluetooth. Not even a minute later, Anthony appeared in the hallway behind her desk and gestured toward me.

“Kirby,” he said. “Always lovely to see you.”

“Likewise,” I replied.

Anthony flicked his head at his receptionist in an appreciative manner, and she turned back toward her computer. He led me back to his inner sanctum and carefully shut the door behind us.

“How’d your interview go?” he asked, cool as ever.

“Pretty good,” I answered. “I think I might have nailed it.”

“Wonderful,” Anthony said, walking toward the front side of his desk. He leaned back against it and looked at me, waiting for me to make my way over to him.

I slowly advanced across the room and set my purse down on one of the chairs near Anthony’s desk, then I walked closer to him, until I was in front of him. There was something so magnetic between us. No matter how I tried to avoid it, I couldn’t—not that I tried all that hard, mind you.

“Yeah,” I said, bringing my body to Anthony’s. “I’m pretty psyched about it… But, I’m even more psyched about this moment—about being here with you, right now.”

“Kirby,” Anthony said, bending forward and taking me into his arms. “Everything you say and do drives me crazy.” He pressed his lips against mine passionately. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”

Anthony’s hands slid down my arms, to my waist, and around to my back. He ran them down over my ass and gasped when he felt no panty-line.

“I keep telling myself that we shouldn’t do this,” he said, breathing heavily. His hands were moving from my ass to my thighs, reaching down toward the bottom of my skirt.

“I know there’s no way this could ever work,” he moaned after lapping his tongue against mine.

“Your parents would never allow it,” he groaned as I brought my hand to his belt buckle. “My friends would think I’m having a midlife crisis, or that I’ve gone crazy.”

I undid Anthony’s belt, unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, and shoved my hand into his boxers, taking hold of his cock. It was hard, hot, and swollen, and it was dripping thick, luscious fluid from its throbbing tip.

“It doesn’t make sense,” Anthony whimpered as I started pumping his manhood in my hand. “It doesn’t make sense, but, dear God, I want it… I need it.”

Anthony’s breathing took on the rhythm of my hand, and he looked at me with wanton agony in his eyes. “I need
you
, Kirby,” he said. His lower lip dropped and his teeth chattered. He threw his hand down on top of mine and removed my grip from him.

“Sit down,” he said. I was breathing heavily and easily obliged him. Without so much as a second thought, I sat back on the chair behind me.

“Show me what you’ve got underneath that skirt,” he said, leaning back on his desk again. His cock was still poking out of his pants, pointing straight up at the ceiling.

I sat back in the chair and spread my legs as wide as I could, then hoisted one up on the arm of the chair. “Nothing,” I said looking up at Anthony as he looked down at my pussy.

“Beautiful,” he said in what sounded like a stuttered breath. He dropped to his knees in front of me, and leaned in closer to my lower half.

Anthony ran his fingers lightly over the outer lips of my female being, tickling them and teasing them. I felt an intense throbbing inside of me, and it made my hips involuntarily buck every so often, which made Anthony make that “mmmm” noise that every lover loves to hear.

Anthony continued to inspect and tease me, and it drove me wild. The way he was touching me was so sensual, and so patient. It made me feel feelings I’d never felt before. Each time Anthony’s fingers touched me, I savored it… like I’d savored the flan.

With the way Anthony was worshipping my pussy, I was sure that the next thing he was going to do was lick it. Or, maybe, that’s what I wanted him to do. But, that’s not what he did. Instead, he brought his mouth to my mound and simply kissed it. The he kissed it again… and again… and again… until, finally, his tongue darted out from his mouth, unexpectedly, and parted my folds, headed straight for my clit.

My back arched forward from the back of the chair, and I nearly pushed Anthony to the floor. That one move he made made something quake inside me, and my entire body was pulsing with the aftershock. It wasn’t an orgasm, but it was something that assured me an orgasm would soon me coming.

Anthony laughed and grunted when my hips thrust my pussy up against his face. Obviously, he was going for some type of positive response—and, sure enough, he’d gotten one. He continued to lick, suck, and eat me, and I continued to squirm from it and edge my body forward.

By the time Anthony got me off—just a few minutes later—I was no longer sitting on the chair, but had pushed my body so far forward that I was straddling Anthony’s face. His shoulders were wedged up against the desk behind him, and my pussy was nearly smothering him. I didn’t know exactly how we’d ended up in that position, but I liked it.

I felt like I was going to collapse from my orgasm, and I probably would have if I hadn’t still had Anthony’s face there propping me up. I leaned back from him a little, just as his strong arms came up to hold and guide me. He rose to his feet, carrying me with him as he did, and then took me into his arms for a moment.

My skirt was stuck up around my waist, and my pussy was still wet and aching. I felt very primal and passionate, and I felt the need to reciprocate the pleasure I’d just received.

Just as Anthony had done earlier, I dropped to my knees. I positioned my body in front of Anthony’s and leaned in over him, pushing him back on his desk a little. I could feel the cool air from the air conditioning vents on between my legs, and it only further fueled the fire burning inside of me.

I looked up at Anthony as I took his cock into my hand. I held it firmly at the base, then ran my tongue over the length of it, dragging my tongue slowly and firmly over the head. Anthony licked his lips as he watched me bathe his cock and get it ready for my mouth.

I glided my tongue over Anthony’s shaft a few more times, making it nice and wet. When I finally took him into my mouth, I did so slowly—taking the head in first, then inching the rest of him in. He was big, and I knew there was no way I could get
all
of him in my mouth, but I wasn’t going to let that stop me from trying.

As I worked my mouth over Anthony, he made the most delicious noises. If I hadn’t just cum, the sound of his pleasure would have been enough to make me do so—and, they were definitely making me want to do so again. He moaned and groaned, breathed heavily, and said such sexy things. It all inspired me to keep doing what I was doing, and to do it well.

Anthony’s hands clasped against the side of my head, and he started shaking his hips. I knew what these signs meant, and I knew what to do from there. I started sucking Anthony harder and faster, taking as much of him into my mouth as I could—then I slowed down and sucked at the tip of his cock for a bit, massaging that throbbing vein at its back with my lips and tongue.

I abruptly went back to deeper sucking, and even went so far as to throat Anthony’s cock a little, which made me gag. But, that wasn’t a bad thing. Anthony shuddered at the sound and feel of it, and, within a few seconds, he was convulsing as he exploded in my mouth.

“Fuuuuckk,” Anthony roared as he came, and the sound of it almost made me cum too. The moment he stopped shooting his load, he bowed down, took my face into his hands, and kissed me firmly on the lips.

“I don’t know what we’re going to do, Kirby,” he said. “But we’ve got to do something.”

I looked up at Anthony and wiped my lower lip and chin with the back of my hand, to clear away his drippings. “We do,” I replied. “But first things first… Right now we need to come up with a new cover story. What should I tell my parents about our meeting today?”

It was almost 6 p.m. when I finally left Stonegate Tower. Anthony and I spent some time coming up with our cover story after our encounter, and then we chatted for a bit. The story we came up with wasn’t the best one in the world, but, I must admit, I’m pretty proud of it.

I was to say that I met with Mr. Swift, as planned, and that he explained to me all the splendors that a career in advertising held. I wasn’t interested in what he said, however, and I told him that my professional interests were elsewhere, which was something my parents would surely believe, as I’d already expressed as much to them directly.

Well, good ole’ Mr. Swift didn’t like me so instantly ignoring what he thought was good business. He insisted that I wasn’t giving the industry a shot and wasn’t giving it enough credit. He said I was in no position to judge it since I’d never been involved in it, and he suggested that I come back and shadow him on a project or two, just so that I could see what the advertising world was really like; so that I could base my opinion on observation, not conjecture.

It wasn’t a job offer or an internship, and there’d be no money, or compensation of any kind, that changed hands. It was just a chance for me to get the inside scoop, and for Mr. Swift to defend the integrity of his profession.

And, as our story went, I agreed to shadow Mr. Swift, as he’d suggested, out of respect for him as my father’s boss, and out of an inkling of my own curiosity.

I didn’t necessarily like that last part, but Anthony insisted on it. He said my parents would want to hear it.

I rehearsed our story over and over again in my head as I drove home. I was in the tail-end of traffic hour, so the drive took a little longer than usual, but it didn’t bother me much, since it gave me more time to practice.

Naturally, I wasn’t looking forward to talking to my parents. Even though I was getting really good at it, I still didn’t like lying to them, and this lie was going to be a big one. I had to lie about what I’d already done and set the groundwork for more lies to come. Now,
that’s
daunting!

Also, I felt a little bummed out about the Dessert Oasis situation. I was very happy about my looming job offer, and was looking forward to telling my parents about it, and about my intention to accept it. But in light of everything else I had to tell them—all the lies about shadowing Anthony—my news about a shop job would zip right past them. All they’d hear was what I had to say about Mr. Swift, and anything about Dessert Oasis would fade away to nothing, like a mirage dissolving in daylight.

Sure, I’d still tell them about Dessert Oasis, but I knew they really wouldn’t care about it, and I tried not to think about that too much as I went over the cover up story a few more times.

Traffic had me hung up and out until about 7, and Mom and Dad’s cars were both already in the driveway when I got home. I parked my car on the street and went to the house, psyching myself up for my performance. I forced a big grin on my face. After all, everything I had to tell them was good news—a potential job at Dessert Oasis and a shadowing arrangement with Mr. Swift—and I should be happy about it.

I got to the back door and opened it. As soon as I looked in, I saw Mom sitting at the kitchen table. She looked over at me with a cold, hard look on her face. Dad was standing in the doorway between the kitchen and main hallway. I couldn’t see his entire body, but I could see that he was bent over, with his head down and his hands resting against his knees.

As quickly as Mom turned to look at me she turned away and shook her head violently way, the kind a crazy person would do in a haunted house movie.

“What’s going on here?” I asked as I stepped into the kitchen.

As soon as I made it past the doorframe, the rest of the scene unfolded, and it became unnecessary for anyone to answer my question.

Dad stared at his feet, and Mom buried her head in her hands. But I couldn’t care less about what either of
them
were doing. I was more concerned with the third person in the room, the person sitting across from Mom at the table.

“What are
you
doing here?” I asked.

“I had to do the right thing, Kirby,” he said. “I had to tell them.”

“And thank you for doing that, London,” Dad said, stepping out from the doorway. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, maybe you should go home now. Judy and I have a lot to talk about with Kirby.”

I couldn’t speak. My jaw had dropped so far that it would have taken me ages to pick it up. What the hell was going on here?

“Yes, London, thank you so much,” Mom said, lifting her head up from her hands. Her eye makeup was smeared, but I couldn’t tell whether it was from friction or tears. “But now we need to talk to Kirby.”

Both of my parents looked at me, but my eyes stayed locked on London. He quickly, covertly flashed that crooked grin again—the one I really, really hated.

I hated it even more now.