“Eleanor!!”
“Yes, Mr Harmon?” responded the slightly tinny voice through the intercom.
“Can you bring in the guestlist for Saturday Night,” he released the speak button and knew once again that his 'please' hadn’t been transmitted.
“As you wish, Mr Harmon,” she responded with her standard refrain and within a minute she knocked on the door and entered.
Chris Harmon, founder, CEO and the continued driving force behind the Perfect Harmony Record Label looked up at his personal assistant as she stepped into the room carrying a single sheet of paper. Once again he wondered at the efficiency of the thirty-year-old woman, knowing that most of the last minute would have been taken up with printing out the guest list than actually finding it. The truth was initially the (now) indispensable Miss Jones had been originally a stop-gap who’d he’d picked as much for her ‘plainness’ as for her work.
His head was still suffering the after-effects of Saturday; he had truly ‘burnt the candle at both ends” and then some but it had been the annual New Year’s bash and within the record industry his party had become somewhat legendary, at least to those who were privileged enough to be invited. Without a doubt, it earned his small label a good deal of influence and kudos beyond its paper-value. The fact was that his upcoming birthday had played quite a large factor; a psycho-analysts wet dream of denial!
Eleanor made her way around her boss’s desk and handed him the print-out. She studied the fifty-nine-year-old man, noting that this was probably the worst he had ever looked in the New Year. Although in the past ten years of working for the company, the last five directly for him, he had only once failed to make it in and had only actually communicated in the late afternoon.
Chris looked at the list before him and scratched his head before turning to Eleanor. She was dressed as always in a long pleated skirt, blouse and short neck-tie and a knitted cardigan. The only jewellery she ever wore was a simple gold chain that hung around her neck atop her blouse with a pendant that dropped out rarely from beneath her cardigans. A small smile played across his lips at how incongruous her outfit was compared to their clientele (male and female) who had visited sometimes wearing almost less clothing than was in her neck-tie. “This isn’t the list?” he asked somewhat surprised.
“It is Mr Harmon,” she replied and twisted the list towards her checking it again; “The Dorchester media junket on Saturday for the release of the Little Miss album!”
He laughed earning a momentary smile from his assistant, “Yes, that it is… I wanted the guestlist for Saturday… gone. The New Year’s party!”
“Oh,” she responded, “I’ll get that for you right away!”
“Hold on,” Chris stopped her, “Just bring it up on my terminal, please Eleanor… save the planet, hey?”
She paused and turned back moving around behind the desk as he slid back to make room. She grasped the mouse and within seconds had opened the correct file. “Here you are, Mr Harmon.”
He looked at the screen, “There’s hundreds of names here!” he stated.
“Yes, three-hundred-and-fifty-six if I remember correctly, sir.”
He had no doubt that his assistant did remember correctly, “Is there the VIP list available?”
She smiled, “There all VIP’s of course,” he nodded in agreement as it was standard practice in the industry to call all the clients VIP’s especially on any invitations. She scrolled down the list showing the last fifty or so high-lighted in red; “But these are the VIPs!”
“Ahh… yes, that I can work with” he answered as she stepped away and he slid back to examine the list more closely.
“Is there anything in particular I can help you with Mr Harmon?” she asked.
He looked up at his assistant gaining a hint of her Jasmine perfume. “Err… no this will be fine, thank you Eleanor.”
“As you wish, sir” she replied and walked away heading for the door. Chris watched her go and once again thanked his wisdom in employing the woman. She was certainly expert at her job but also slightly dowdy which given his previous assistants was a bonus especially as the last one had been the cause of his divorce to his second wife. His third was far more understanding of the world he lived in and indeed was happy to share but all the same that might change even with what he had been told was a ‘cast-iron’ pre-nuptial agreement if he played away without her.
He watched as Eleanor closed the door and felt his cock twitch as he returned to the list. “Now who are you?” he asked the screen.
****
The Perfect Harmony New Year’s bash was standard fare for the record industry. Even the ‘real’ VIP after party was the equal of many others. What was legendary was the very select after-after party that took place back at Chris Harmon’s mansion just outside of London that was purely by personal invite only!
The after-party of course had all the alcohol and the best drugs that money could buy. Lots of nefarious activities took place to encourage the clients and their agents to remain while also trying to poach new revenue producing streams. Fairly standard procedure throughout the record industry and was the primary cause of the ebb and flow of clients from one label to another and back again. The VIPs had a hell of a lot of fun away from the eyes of the paparazzi but the primary targets were always the agents who essentially held the power of where their artists would be employed and most kinks were supplied purely for them.
But Chris’s own party which often started at around 4am with a fleet of limousines ferrying the chosen few down to his country estate was purely for those he liked and wanted and would never, ever consider changing labels. It meant that the core of his ‘stable of talent’ was the most loyal within the industry and very few knew why.
In amongst the group who always attended was Rick Anson who was strictly a direct competitor and at times the two of them were utterly cut-throat when it came to poach from others but had a détente between themselves. It had been seven years since he had first attended; effectively gate crashing (having heard rumours) as Joanne G’s plus-one and hadn’t looked back. One of the very few who made his own way there, often ducking out of his own parties and flying down in his helicopter.
Last year Chris had arrived, noted the red insignia on the machine sitting in front of his house and strolled in with a guitarist and his latest partner to find Rick fucking his wife, Tamara over his grand piano as she was eating out Rick’s latest protégé.
Tommy DeShort, who was happily watching commented “That’s no way to treat an expensive musical instrument!”
“Oh I don’t know” he replied and struck Tamara sharply across the hip gaining a loud deep groan from her and a complimentary squeak from the 22 year old Alicia, “could be an interesting orchestra!”
On average roughly fifty or so attended, a literal ‘hard-core’ group of thirty who rarely failed to attend and another sixty whose commitments were less accommodating and tended to appear every other year. Of course Chris always tried to introduce a little ‘new-blood’ each year and spent quite a bit of time during the previous year with a ‘scouting’ eye just for this occasion.
His party was always second to none! Sometimes they ended up as mass orgies, sometimes an effective carousel as people moved about the various rooms and gardens of the estate. Everybody who attended was world renowned within the industry and the majority household names with the exception of himself he could admit and the four hand-picked attendants; two doubled as security and two doubled as medical care. They were paid very well with the only caveat being that they remained sober of alcohol and drugs but were welcome to join the rest of the festivities as they wished. That Chris had picked two extremely attractive, athletic couples with no sexual inhibitions worth mentioning was purely coincidental.
This year’s party had turned into something special when he’d followed Tamara’s advice and held a fancy dress/masked event. What few, if any inhibitions that had been present before evaporated as all these famous people literally revelled in their temporary anonymity. Of course some were easier to spot than others and it surprised no-one that Rick was dressed as an air stewardess from his own airline and his wife as a pilot. Joanne G was dressed in one of her outlandish costumes worthy of the red carpet and shortly after arriving pulled one tie and it fell away to reveal her fully painted, nude body depicting a pin-stripe gentleman’s suit.
Chris and Tamara after receiving their guests had disappeared to change into their own costumes which they had mutually decided to keep secret from one another. He knew that his wife would have obscured her tattoo of a dolphin on the inside of her upper thigh as he had obscured his Irish Tricolour on his upper arm. Almost fifteen hours after the festivities had begun he still wasn’t sure whether he had fucked or licked or even possibly been fucked (there was at least two strap-on wearing females wandering around) by his wife as he lay exhausted on a lounger beside the indoor swimming pool as Bruce ate out a ‘newbie’ he didn’t recognise on the lounger beside him.
That was when his problem appeared!
****
He sat in his office his cock swelling at the thought of his final fuck of the party. Struggling to concentrate he deleted all of those on the list before him not within the VIP group and then methodically worked his way down the list of those he definitely knew hadn’t been invited. The next to go were the men although he did leave three that simply had plus-ones tagged beside them and Gerry Newman whose wife Giselle who he was sure (although he also knew his recollection of how she was dressed at the party was hazy) was of the right build.
He left Joanna G on the list as he had seen her change at least once again when her body paint had got so smeared you could tell the half dozen men and women she had been with by the grey and black smears adorning their bodies and she could have easily changed again but he didn’t really see her being so intimate and; he struggled for the right word as he thought about it. Personal! The devil outfit of his mysterious final partner definitely suited her impish personality though.
He looked at the remaining twenty four couples and then studied each one in turn. Seven he had played with before and he crossed them off without a second thought. He laughed as he really wondered if a person could recognise a pussy from the way it had been when it descended onto his revitalised cock.
****
He sat back watching Bruce eat out the woman beside him as she writhed and squirmed on the lounger. She had orgasmed twice already and knowing Bruce’s skills and hunger for pussy knew that she was going to be absolutely drained by the time he had finished. He had boasted before that his personal best was seventy eight minutes and he was always aiming to break it. Chris reckoned the young woman wouldn’t last as the world renowned rock star had only been between her thighs for five or six minutes so far.
He smiled as he watched the young woman tighten her jaw and inhale deeply through her nose as the tendons on her neck began to stand out and a blush began to blossom above her small breasts topped with equally small but rock hard nipples. A stifled moan began to emanate from behind her pursed lips when something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye.
The pool was lit brightly at the moment as dusk began to fall outside and the lighting within tended to bleach any colours present. He focused on the steel ladder that was just a few feet from his position as it dropped into the gently rippling water. A line of red moved around the tubular hand rail as someone approached him from behind. All at once the click-clack of heels sounded as the person stepped from the plush deep-pile carpet onto the tiles surrounding the pool.
Bruce even took a moment his head popping up from between his partner’s thighs to look past Chris at the mystery behind him. His eyes sparkled as he let them drop downwards before two sets of nails dug sharply into his scalp and pulled his mouth back onto the soaking quim before him. A loud sigh proved that his agile tongue was back at work yet his eyes still feasted on the wearer of the approaching heels.
The sound echoed around the room and it seemed an age to Chris before the wearer stepped past him and looked down at the writhing woman. He looked at the woman standing before him with her back towards him. Red four inch stilettoes with steel tipped heels supported a pair of taut calves covered in fishnet stockings; the seam running up the back impeccably straight to an ass bisected with a matching red thong exposing a pair of perfectly formed cheeks. His eyes roved upwards across the lattice work of laces holding a corset in place cinched tightly around the waist. Long black hair dropped halfway down the woman’s back before she leant forward and shiny black nailed fingers reached out and sharply pinched the woman’s nipple before her.
A loud cry of ecstasy rebounded of the walls and windows of the pool room as her back arched of the lounger and her thighs clamped around Bruce’s head as her heels beat a tattoo upon his lower back. Chris could hear him briefly splutter and then groan into the woman’s pussy as he imagined her juices squirting out flooding his mouth. He could see the other man’s erection twitch beneath him as his hands struggled to hold the woman thrashing and bucking against his face.
Chris’s own cock twitched and swelled as the red clad woman stretched and released the nipple and twisted about to face him. For a moment he was surprised to see the ornate devil mask obscuring the upper part of her face; the eyes seemed almost black within the eyeholes as she rested her right hand upon his shoulder. She leaned closer seemingly done with Bruce and his partner who was groaning and panting behind her as fresh orgasmic waves ran through her frame.
Her lips moved closer to his ear and he could smell a hint of her perfume mixed with the strong aroma of pussy juice that had erupted behind them. “Well, Chris, are you all done for the day?” she whispered as he felt a nail slide along the underside of his soft but swelling shaft.
Without waiting for an answer she straightened up and walked back the way she had come.
“Fuck no…” he breathed and rolled off the lounger grinning down at Bruce who only had eyes for the departing derriere no matter what his tongue was doing.
Chris stared at the retreating figure, his feet following under the direction of his cock as he tried to fathom who this woman was. He couldn’t remember anyone having been dressed like her over the last few hours and he was pretty sure at one point or another he had seen all his guests in various computations. He watched her ass roll as she walked with a surety on those heels and a determination where she was going and that he’d be following.
Not once did she look back even as she ascended the wide staircase only briefly glancing down as Andrew Peter was being deep throated by the male security attendant. He shared a grin with the pop-star as he grabbed the man’s head and thrust his sizable cock hard into the back of his throat.
The mystery woman turned right at the top of the stairs and strode purposefully towards the master bedroom. “Who are you?” he whispered to himself as he stepped into the room to find her standing beside the bed with her arms folded. She simply nodded towards the bed and he obeyed without question climbing onto it and lying down on his back. He didn’t understand why but he wasn’t surprised when she leant down and lifted up the strap that was attached beneath and he offered his hand for her to secure his wrist with the Velcro cuff. He shook his head wondering who he was letting do this as she moved around fastening both ankles and finally his left wrist.
His cock was now fully hard and erect as she returned to the foot of the bed. “Who are you?” he asked hoarsely with a dry mouth.
She crawled onto the bed and over him till her masked face was just above his. “Do you care?” she whispered.
“Yes” he nodded.
“Tough!” she laughed, “You’re mine tonight!”
He gasped loudly as a set of nails was raked down his chest catching his nipple in the process. His cock quivered as the nails move lower and she straightened up looking down at his engorged cock. He stared up at her trying to glimpse any familiarity from the lower part of her face and then groaned loudly as her nails bypassed his member and squeezed his balls tightly. “Ohhh fuck!”
His head dropped back onto the fine cotton sheets as her other encircled his length and slowly twisted back and forth as the grip on his testes softened. He could hear his heart beating loudly within his chest as he succumbed to the sensations. “Oh mother of God!” he murmured as his cock head was engulfed by the woman’s hot wet mouth.
A nail scratched down his taint as she sucked powerfully on his glans and he was amazed as he felt his balls tighten even though he’d lost count of the number of times he’d already ejaculated during the last few hours. The woman in red felt his balls tighten and popped his cock from her mouth, “Oh no you don’t” she stated and gripped the base of his cock tightly as it jerked in her hand. Chris groaned deeply as a single clear drop of pre-cum seeped from the eye of his glans; a second loud groan escaped his lips as the woman’s tongue carefully scooped it up.
He lifted his head to look down his body and watched as she smeared the single tear of his orgasm across her lips. She laughed and from somewhere within her costume lifted out a length of leather strap which he recognised immediately as an Arab strap. She secured the base of his cock expertly making sure an attached rippled fob was positioned just right; she kept her eyes fixed on his as her mouth returned to his aching member and slowly descended till his cock head nestled into the back of her throat.
She hummed happily as he felt her sharp nail tease his pucker and slowly pressing harder gradually worm its way into his ass. He let his head fall back and stared up at the ceiling and surrendered to the sweet torture this stranger was performing on him. He had no idea how long she would make him suffer and suddenly found himself thinking ‘the longer the better!’
Down the years he’d happily ceded control to two lovers, Tamara being one and hence the straps attached to their bed but never had he felt so at the mercy of another. No ‘safe’ word discussed and no names either; yet this woman had acted like she owned him from the very first moment she whispered in his ear. He pushed back against her finger as it began to slide in and out of his ass in unison with her mouth bobbing up and down his shaft. It seemed she had owned him even before he heard the click-clack of her heels striding across the tiled floor of the pool room.
****
He sat in his office chair surveying the list he had whittled down to five possibilities; his cock was hard and swollen in his trousers as he remembered the woman and what she had done to him. He glanced about unnecessarily and reached down below the desk and squeezed his shaft. “Damn, blue steel” he commented to no-one and silently within his head wondered when the last time he’d got such an erection without the aid of the little blue pill.
He clicked on the intercom, “Yes, Mr Harmon?”
“Eleanor, can you find out for me if Joanna G. is still in town, please?” he asked simply picking the first name on the list.
“Certainly Sir” she replied instantly. He wondered if he heard a smile in her voice that for once his ‘please’ wasn’t cut off halfway by his finger lifting. By the time he had saved the edited list and moved it into his personal files the intercom beeped.
“Yes, Eleanor?”
“Miss G. is still at the Ritz till Thursday, Sir, do you want me to place a call for you?” she replied.
“Please do, Eleanor” he answered simply and within five seconds he was talking to the pop-star’s personal assistant.
****
Again and again he pulled against the restraints as this woman in red had brought him to the edge with her mouth and hands. When she finally allowed him to ‘get-off’ the Arab strap was still in place and the sensations were all the more intense as his engorged throbbing shaft flexed and twitched as his depleted balls tried vainly to expel what remaining seed was there up and out of his cock.
He felt his body tremble and shiver and the welcoming bliss of slumber pull him down into its embrace. He should’ve known better as the bed shifted and he felt the rasp of fishnet clad shins slide across his shoulders and the strong aroma of wet pussy fill his nostrils. He opened his eyes sluggishly and stared at the red lace G-string in front of him that was thoroughly soaked to the extent that heavy drops of clear fluid had formed along the contours of the lips within.
“Oh no Chris, you’re not getting off that lightly” the husky voice from above instructed him. She leaned to the left and opened the drawer beside his bed as he discerned a small tattoo beneath the lace just above and to the right of the woman’s slit. She settled back astride him and her black nailed forefinger appeared coated in white powder which she drew up along her underwear mixing Chris’s premium cocaine with her juices; “This should keep you going… not that I won’t enjoy it as well!”
Even before he had time to agree the crotch before him was ground onto his face.
****
Chris pulled himself from his reverie as the lift chimed and he stepped out onto the top floor of the Ritz before turning left and heading to the west end of the corridor. Although he’d never stayed in the Ritz he’d visited the Park suite many times as it was simply one of the best views in London looking out over Green Park towards Buckingham Palace and beyond. The go-to suite for any self-respecting celebrity!
He stopped briefly before the door and took a moment to straighten his hard shaft within his trousers and fasten the lower button of his suit jacket which actually irked him a little, but was far less of a social faux-pas than sporting an erection. He dropped his hand into his pocket and clenched the single item of evidence he had.
He knocked and within a few seconds the door was answered by Joanna’s personal aide; “Ah, Mr Harmon, right on time. Come on through” she offered indicating the way.
It took him a moment to recall the name he’d looked up before leaving the office, “Thank you, Lucy isn’t it? Are you enjoying London?”
He saw a small flicker of appreciation in her eyes as she turned towards him; “Yes it is… I always enjoy London although quite often it does tend to be in a mad dash!”
“The life we chose… truth be told and please don’t tell a soul but for all the years I’ve been in the business I have never made it to Memphis let alone Gracelands!” he replied conspiratorially.
“Your secrets safe with me” she grinned and opened the door before them.
He stepped into the luxurious sitting room and for a moment was taken aback. The Popstar was nowhere to be seen; instead a young woman in a simple skirt, blouse and cardigan was sitting on the window seat holding a paperback book in her hand as she stared out of the window,
“Hello Chris” she said in a far softer version of the New York accent she normally used as she looked up. A broad charming smile spread across her mouth at a reaction she had seen numerous times previously.
He walked over. A wry smile spreading across his own features having been caught out; “Hello Jo.” There was no noticeable make-up or wild hairstyle, just a simple beauty that might have only stood out in a small town or village but of no less value for that.
“So what was so important that it couldn’t wait?” she asked pointing to a chair beside her. “If you think just because you throw a hell of a party that I’m going to move to your Label, you’ve got another think coming!”
Automatically he unbuttoned his jacket, fumbling a little with the second button before sitting down, his hand dropping into his pocket once again as he crossed his knees.
He laughed as the thought hadn’t actually crossed his mind which in itself was unusual. “There isn’t anything I could offer?”
A mischievous glint sparked within her eyes; “Hmmm… well, there is Tamara and her strap-on; she certainly knows how to use it!” Jo squirmed fractionally on the window seat.
“She does!” Chris agreed, “But I think she might object if I was to involve her talents as conditions or favours within deals… I’m quite sure she wouldn’t object to me giving you her phone number without prejudice!”
The woman licked her lips, “Sorry Chris, already got it!”
“Damn, fallen at the first hurdle!”
“So if it isn’t business?” she asked arching an eyebrow.
“Well…” he began and then hesitated realising he hadn’t really thought about how he was going to ask the question he needed answering. For the first time in decades possibly he felt the colour rise in his cheeks.
Jo leant back a fraction taking in the odd demeanour her guest was showing before placing the book down and dropping her feet to the floor and leaning towards him. “Now I am curious!” she declared.
“It is about Saturday… the party…” he admitted
****
He lay there prone as this woman ground her crotch hard into his face, her juices literally oozing through her sodden panties as he opened his mouth as wide as he could lapping at the lacy material. Her nails dug into his scalp from her left hand as the other grasped his chest; she twisted about, her underwear gradually narrowing as it worked between her lips.
“Oh yesss” she cooed, “You’re a good boy, Chris!”
All at once he wished his hands were free so he could grab this woman’s hips and pull her harder into his face and yet he adored the helplessness of his situation; his cock unbelievably ram-rod straight as it quivered untouched. He managed to push his tongue between her pussy lips but her bunched up thong was proving problematic to get his tongue deeper.
She seemed to read his mind and reached with her right hand and pulled the ties free on each hip before yanking it out of the way. “Now get your tongue in there” she demanded, “Stuff it all the way into my cunt!”
He happily did as he was commanded and thrust his tongue deep inside her as she drove down onto his face. A flow of juices rewarded him and he drank down her impossibly sweet secretions greedily. She bounced harder and faster on his tongue, her pussy quivering as he moaned loudly into her mound. His cock jerked as her hand returned to his chest and pinched a nipple tightly pulling it up as she screamed “Fuck YESSSS!”
A flood of her juices poured from her slit as it clamped tightly around his tongue, as much running over his face as into his mouth. He shut his eyes tightly as they started to sting but continued to force his tongue in and out of this stranger’s hot soaking cunt. Twisting his head back and forth he felt her hard clit roll back and forth against his teeth as she bucked wildly on his face. Her pussy trembled and quivered again and again as her orgasm racked through her frame till eventually it relaxed and she slumped forward against the headboard releasing her grip on his scalp and nipple.
Chris lapped gently at her slit, tiny tremors responding to his strokes and a quiet whimper echoing from above. It was at least a minute before the woman in red raised herself from his face and stood up on a pair of shaky legs and looked down at him. “Mmmm… I knew you’d have a talented tongue” she said softly.
****
“Saturday” she replied wistfully, “A damned good time… what about it?”
Now sitting face to face with Jo he doubted his suspicion and his memory. She was possibly a little taller and skinnier than his masked woman but she was world renowned for her costume changes and adopting different personas. It was evident in her videos and stage performances that she also had a wicked sense of humour.
“Err… you and I?” he asked blushing deeply.
“Really Chris, you don’t remember?” she feigned indignantly.
He looked up staring into her eyes trying to imagine them through a mask but failing. “I… crap… no I don’t think we did.”
“How many did you fuck?”
He shook his head dropping his eyes; his fist curling around his single piece of evidence in his pocket, “It’s not that.”
“I’m that forgettable?” a smile spreading across her mouth as he sat there like a guilty child.
“God no,” he said to the luxurious carpet then lifted his head just catching the smile disappearing from her lips. “I mean to say… you’re quite the chameleon, Jo. I know you brought at least three changes with you… not counting the body paint; was there another?”
She licked her lips as she processed his question. It was such a delectable idea; “A disguise?” she asked and Chris nodded. “And pray tell if I went to such lengths why would I admit to it now?”
He studied Jo’s face, a genuine Poker face and he knew he had absolutely no idea whether or not she was the masked woman; even her voice like so many in the business she could morph to suit her needs. “Any tattoos?” he asked his eyes dropping momentarily to her lap.
She squirmed on the window seat a fraction and knew the man opposite spotted it. “Yes” she answered simply.
“Will you at least allow me to… verify?”
A small laugh escaped her lips, “You’ll have to make it worth my while!”
He nibbled his tongue and then pulled out his phone dialling a number before handing it to the woman opposite. As it rang in her ear Chris stood up and knelt at her feet,
“Hey Chris” the woman spoke down the line.
“Hi Tamara, it’s Joanna here” she answered and spread her feet opening her thighs wide apart as Chris lifted up her skirt and rolled it back along her thighs, “Your husband’s here and he’s about to eat me out!”
“The dirty bastard!” Tamara scolded down the line and then the phone beeped and Jo looked at it accepting the face-time link and aiming the camera at Chris. “Next time you better take me along, now you be a good boy, I wanna hear her scream!”
“Yes babe” Chris grinned and reached beneath Jo’s skirt and pulled a practical pair of cotton panties from her crotch as she lay back on the window seat shifting her ass right to the edge.
“You heard the woman!” she agreed pulling her skirt over her stomach and positioning the phone on her hip angled at her dampening slit.
Chris looked at the image of his wife shaking on the screen as she walked up the stairs at their home obviously heading for the bedroom. He drew his eyes back to the ‘feast’ in front of him. There was no tattoo possible but he wouldn’t have put it past the masked woman to have faked that however Jo’s bush though neatly trimmed covered probably twice the area. One down he thought and then grinned at his accidental pun.
****
“I guess it’s hard” she giggled softly, “I mean difficult to fuck gently with a strap-on!”
Chris drew the hair away from Tamara’s neck as they lay spooned on their bed; his cock softening within her pussy, “Feedback. Or lack of it I suppose.”
“Mmmhmm” she agreed with a small shudder as her pussy twitched with a minor orgasmic aftershock, “I guess… that’d be an invention; it has crossed my mind what it’d be like to have a penis.”
Chris wrapped his arm about her and pulled her closer, “Would I be your first?” he asked with a poor imitation of a virginal youth.
She reached back and drew a nail over his hip, “Of course, my love… but honestly I’d really want to know what a pussy feels like from the other side, so to speak.”
“I can see that, similar thoughts have crossed my mind too.”
“So, you gonna tell me why the visit to Jo, this afternoon?” she asked as she twisted her neck to look into his eyes.
He had known the question would come, had actually expected it far earlier but had completely forgotten about it in his post-orgasm bliss. “Do you always wait till I’m at my most vulnerable?”
“What sort of fool, are you?” she asked incredulously, “Hell, yes; Rule Numero Seven!”
“Hmmm… Rule number seven in the women’s guide to men; why is that so easy to believe?” she grinned in response; “Would you believe I just wanted to eat pussy in view of Buck House?”
“I would, actually… I may have sucked cock once upon a time at the top of a certain Parisian phallic-like landmark but that wasn’t the only reason, was it?”
He shook his head, “Nope” he took a deep breath and began to explain about the masked mystery woman from Saturday night.
He went into great detail in as far as his memory allowed and by the time he’d finished Tamara had three fingers deep inside her quim and her other hand wrapped around his refreshed cock.
“I can see your frustration” she agreed grinning at his cock, “Tell you what… take it out on me.”
She licked her lips and almost jumped from the bed as she went to her bedside draw and lifted out her strap-on and a tube of KY. She laughed as she saw the confusion on Chris’s face; “Oh baby, don’t worry tonight you’re going to wear this… but another night…?”
“Deal!” Chris agreed and knelt up on the bed as Tamara bent down and fastened the straps in place around his hips.
****
Chris opened his eyes once again feeling the slight sting from the masked woman’s juices; he blinked a few times before looking up at the woman above him. He noticed an oriental glyph tattoo just above and to the left of her shiny crimson slit; something that may have been concealed except for her bush being trimmed precisely into a single patch forming a downward pointing arrow. He grinned broadly at the design before raising his eyes to hers within her devil mask.
“Only too happy to please, Miss…” he enquired hopefully.
“Yes, Chris, they were quite wonderful orgasms but unlike you mixed-chromosomal beings we can still function after!” she bent forward and looked between her thighs at his hard cock still restrained by the Arab strap. “Why do you think I bridled your cock? I’m by no means finished with you!”
“Yes…Mistress!” he conceded.
She laughed, “Oh a little grovelling now is it? Hmm, let’s see then.” She dropped down once again kneeling across his shoulders and leant to the side; this time towards Tamara’s side of the bed. He looked closely at the ideogram and wondered why it seemed familiar and then twisted his head to watch as the woman pulled open the bedside drawer and lifted out two of Tamara’s toys.
“Ahh, a shame, seems you’re good lady wife must be using her strap-on elsewhere!” she commented as she laid a slim blue vibrator and lifted up a thicker life-like dildo. She cocked an eyebrow and shifted about before standing it beside his stiff member. “Hmm, very curious Chris; you obviously weren’t at your best the day this mould was broken!”
He looked down and it was true. The copy was apparently a fraction shorter and definitely slimmer than his present engorged shaft although without even looking at his own depleted testes he knew the silicone squeezable balls were substantially bigger even on his best day. He shrugged as she looked back at him; what was of keen interest to him was how this stranger knew so much about him, even down to which side of the bed his wife slept on. He wanted to ask so many questions but was now resigned to the fact that she wouldn’t provide any answers.
She spun back and straddled his chest once again grinning down at him; the evil glint in her eye needing no comment. “Now let’s make you nice and comfortable” she cooed and pulled a couple of pillows from above him and tucked them under his head. “Better?”
“Good” she replied.
****
He sat at his desk and pulled up ‘The List’ as he had begun to call it within his mind. The mystery woman it had to be said was affecting his work; all the important and necessary stuff was being done but now when he had a few minutes which he would normally fill with the minutiae of business life his mind would wander back to the masked woman. It had been a week since the party and he’s only crossed of Jo from the list and another name had been added when he’d gone over it with his wife. It was a long shot as Brita had sent her apologies as she was staying in her native Iceland but had been a previous attendee although Chris personally had never had the pleasure.
Tamara had and remembered a tattoo of an eastern glyph quite near to her quim and although the star was diminutive in stature neither had ever seen her in heels. She also had a very quirky sense of humour and personality that they both reckoned could have the woman turning up unannounced and in disguise; she was also quite familiar with their bedroom having played with Tamara previously on at least two occasions.
“Eleanor?” he asked as he pressed the intercom.
“Yes, Mr Harmon?” she replied promptly.
“Could you come in here and bring my schedule?”
“Certainly sir!” she answered and a moment layer she stepped through the door carrying an I-pad.
He closed ‘The List’ and looked up at his assistant; “Tell me, when am I next free on a Friday afternoon and the Saturday… please?”
He saw the corners of her mouth twitch upwards at his late politeness and then turned her attention to the screen in front of her. “Totally free would be mid-February but we could re-schedule The Ironsides to the following Wednesday and you would be free Friday week!”
He grinned at Eleanor who had a knack for reading him and being able to tell what he wanted before he actually asked. “That’s good, do it and we’ll meet in the conference room up top” he replied. She nodded understanding that any grudge the heavy-metal band might have being re-scheduled would be quickly off-played by the amenities of the conference room.
“As you wish, sir”
Perfect Harmony Records was situated near to Notting Hill Gate in the west of London and even though based in an Edwardian building it still remained fractionally taller that the surrounding buildings and had a quite spectacular view looking back eastwards towards the centre, Also give a bunch of early-twenty-something’s with new found fame five minutes and one of them would open the ornate box that always sat in the middle of the conference table. By the time Chris went to meet them, ninety-nine times out of a hundred the group would be out on the roof terrace smoking the primo pre-rolled hermetically sealed top quality Jamaican joints.
“Now I need two flights to Reykjavik to arrive no later than six and coming back on the Sunday” he replied.
Her fingers danced across the pad, “Mrs Harmon?” she enquired and he nodded. “Hmm… yes that’s do-able… if it can be described as business I can assign her as ‘me’?” she asked raising an eyebrow in their usual dance of creative accounting.
“Well… it could be a potential client” he offered although he knew there was no chance that Brita would leave her own Icelandic based company.
Eleanor tapped a button, “Done! Leaving Heathrow at twenty past noon arriving half three; only two flights a day on Icelandair unfortunately sir, the other will only get you in just before midnight.”
“That’ll do fine, organise cars for me from here and for Tamara… wait I’ll bring her in with me; quite sure she might want to do a little shopping up the road beforehand!”
“Yes sir… I’ve notified your house-staff to pack for cold climes too!”
“What would I do without you Eleanor?” he asked smiling at the woman.
“I’m quite sure you would do very, very well sir!”
“Maybe… maybe not!” he replied, “Well, if I’m not here and you can handle things remotely find yourself a ‘company excuse’ and take yourself and… another somewhere to do… ‘research’?” Chris realised he wasn’t sure if the woman before him had a partner or even what sex they would be if she had; he felt his cheeks blush a little at the admission to himself.
“Thank you sir” she answered and he watched her cheeks redden in gratitude, “I’ll see… maybe a little skiing if I can find a place.”
“Business class all the way. Eleanor” he insisted. She beamed and headed for the door; just as she was about to step outside she turned as he added “Honestly Eleanor you’re worth your weight in gold, if there’s ever anything within my power I can help you with or get you!”
Her face shone brightly as she blushed even deeper and she nodded lost for words and she hurried out of the office.
Chris mentally patted himself on the back and then turned back to his computer. The image of ‘The List’ flashed into his mind’s eye now that it was permanently ingrained within and he wondered if the northern capital would have any answers for him.
“Still gonna be fun finding out!” he said to the blank screen.
****
To be continued….
