Carlton

My oh my, I’ve just had an interview at Maple Heights Investments with Millington Chase. It’s a vacancy for a manager in his new property development department. Of course, I hope to get the job because the salary is fabulous, much more than I’m earning at the moment. It would also mean that sending money back to my family in Jamaica wouldn’t feel like a pinch on my monthly bank balance.

Walking through Covent Garden, I’m thinking that maybe, man, just maybe, I’ll get the job with its great salary and BMW company car. Yeah, you heard me, man, a BMW. Not bad, eh, for a twenty-two-year-old who’s worked on markets but, hopefully, blagged his way into a prestigious company?

I’m feeling optimistic because I reckon the Chase guy liked me and we’re very similar. I researched him before I went to the interview. He’s self-made, from a poor background. Paper boy, dyslexic, you know the score. Typical rags to riches gig. So, yeah man, hopefully I get the job. Another perk will be seeing his fit secretary every day.

I’m telling you, she’s mighty fine and looks like one horny bitch. In fact, I’m ninety-nine percent sure she’s horny because when I walked in she sat there with her clipboard, looked up at me and gave me this perfectly dazzling smile.

I looked into her eyes and then I watched them roam over my body before they rested on my crotch. She kept staring there just long enough for me to realise what she was doing then she looked back at me again and said, ‘Please take a seat.’

Let me tell you now, I wouldn’t mind that secretary taking a seat on my face. She’s stunning. So, if I get the job, maybe I will also get the job of fucking that Philippa senseless. As my grandma used to say, hope springs eternal.

3

‘You are officially one hundred percent forgiven, Millington,’ Philippa announced. ‘Lunch was absolutely divine and the seafood platter was to die for, thank you.’

Millington scooped up the last of his crème brulee and took a sip of water. ‘I aim to please Philippa. You should know that by now.’

Philippa laughed, ‘And may I add that for a man of your age, you do very well keeping a youngster like me satisfied.’

Millington looked at Philippa and felt an unfamiliar feeling suddenly stirring inside him. Was it fondness? Heaven forbid it could be anything more.

‘I noticed our interviewee this morning was quite taken with you,’ Millington said, putting a piece of lemon and more ice cubes in his glass.

‘Which one?’

‘You know which one, the Carlton chap.’

‘He was just doing his usual interviewee attentiveness that they all adopt.’ She smiled. ‘You should know that.’

Millington shook his head. ‘No, it was obvious he had the hots for you and I suspect you felt the same way. I’m very observant, Philippa, but to be honest, I’m getting tired of all this hiring and firing.’

‘Well, if you weren’t such a control freak, you’d allow the HR team to do their job rather than paying them to deal with sick notes and wages. They’re stealing a living.’

Millington shrugged. ‘Maybe.’

His mind suddenly strayed to his ‘other business’ and his eyes wandered to Philippa’s cleavage. He’d been debating for a while whether to tell her about maybe even invite her to the party, but something had always stopped him. Perhaps, in the past, he hadn’t had total confidence in Philippa but now he was beginning to think that, maybe, he could trust her.

‘I’m going to the loo,’ Philippa announced. Standing, she picked up her handbag and made her way across the restaurant.

Millington decided to tell her another time. For now, the party would remain his secret.

The rest of the day was uneventful, a typical Monday. All new deals were celebrated on Friday so Monday always felt a little flat as negotiators geared up and made their preparations for the week.

Millington looked at the CVs and the notes he’d made during each interview that morning. He thought the Carlton guy ticked all the boxes. He had a certain charm and charisma that was always an asset in the investments business. Millington had wanted to press Philippa about her possible attraction to Carlton. He had obviously been attracted to Philippa. Oddly, Millington found himself feeling slightly turned on at the thought of Carlton and Philippa together. Indeed, he recognised that interracial sex was appealing to him.

He quickly scanned through the rest of the CVs before shuffling them into a neat pile. With his decision made, he buzzed Philippa.

‘Philippa, will you call Carlton and offer him the job, please.’

**************

That evening, Millington decided to look on his website again at his final selection of guests for the party. He wanted another look at the photographs to ensure he had the eclectic mix just right. Millington was a stickler for detail, and it was one reason why his parties were so popular.

Typing in his password, Millington felt a thrill shoot through him when he thought about the “A list” footballer who’d applied. As if he would knock him back? Okay, the guy had been a bit of a pain, checking over and over about discretion and sending confidentiality agreements, but Millington was willing to overlook his paranoia. The guy was, after all, a family man and prided himself on his clean-cut image so it was obvious he would be slightly cagey.

However, the real pain of it all was that all the guests would be requested to sign the confidentiality form on arrival. The only other option was to suggest the footballer wore a mask. Millington chuckled at the thought of the guy turning up with a Chewbacca mask on. On a serious note, he’d emailed him and suggested that he wear a mask and cape a la Tom Cruise in Eyes Wide Shut. He hadn’t even met the guy and already he was boring Millington to death.

Millington had chosen twenty guests, five more than the previous year. The page of applicants uploaded and Millington looked at the photos and scanned their fantasies. One in particular piqued his interest. In fact, it turned him on. It had been submitted by a twenty-three-year-old woman called Kate, a classical pianist from a middle-class background. Millington liked the idea that she looked innocent, in fact she looked as clean-cut as the footballer. Millington also viewed her pianist skills as a bonus. He’d bought a grand piano years ago, and she might be able put it to good use. Back then, he had some fanciful notion about learning to play the damn thing but he never had. If Kate played at his party, it would add a novel touch. Allegedly, the piano that had cost a fortune had previously belonged to a famous singer but how much of that was true, Millington didn’t know.

Millington studied Kate’s photo. Her long sleek brown hair hung like velvet drapes at the side of her porcelain face. Her face was flawless apart from freckles across her nose that seemed to assault her features. Her eyes were unusual, too. They were perfectly round, giving her a startled look, one was emerald green and the other chestnut brown with threads of blue rippling through like a precious stone. Her lips were a coral colour and Millington suspected they may have been treated to a couple of collagen injections. Then again, he had to admit, she didn’t look the type to go for anything unnatural.

Instinctively, Millington knew that she would be a hit with the guests. Kate was obviously well educated and would be able to maintain a decent conversation. Millington really should have rejected her application because she hadn’t provided a full-length photo, which was a stipulation in his selection process. However, there was something captivating about her - and her fantasy had been one of the horniest Millington had read in a long time. What man could resist someone who had the face of an angel and yet fantasised about being blindfolded and fucked?

The applicants had submitted varying fantasies. He had BDSM and humiliation covered, along with lesbian action and cross-dressing. He even had an attractive twenty-nine-year-old who wanted her virginity taken in public. How she’d remained a virgin so long perplexed Millington. Each to their own, he supposed.

Millington created folders for each applicant and fired off the standard email of acceptance. This was the part that gave him a buzz. He imagined the excitement it would instil in the recipient and he always felt like he was playing the hand of a sexual deity making people’s dreams come true,

Kate was the last person to receive his golden ticket and he imagined her going straight out the next day to buy some sexy gear and her own blindfold. The very thought made Millington hard. Shutting down the computer, he decided to make himself a bite to eat.

He considered phoning Philippa to invite her round for the night and to tell her about the party but decided against it. If she came to his, she would inevitably stay the night and that kind of intimacy would only revive questions about the future and he’d only just managed to reduce that particular conversation to a pile of embers.

As he opened the fridge, Millington frowned, maybe the notion of inviting Philippa to the party wasn’t a good idea, especially if she had serious commitment ideas.

Pulling out some salad and a tub of humus along with garlic infused olives, Millington buttered himself a piece of crusty bread and decided to push Philippa from his mind. He needed to relax because he knew he had a busy schedule the next day. Pouring a glass of chilled wine, Millington smiled as he thought about all the arrangements he had to make for his party. It was the only thing that was making him feel genuinely happy at the moment.

As he ate and drained his wine, Millington brainstormed and wrote down all the things he needed before calling it a day and going to bed. As soon as his head hit the coolness of his pillow, Millington fell asleep, a self-satisfied smile crowning his face.
 

Kate

I’d heard about eliteswingers from a friend of mine at university. Her application had been refused but, the second time, she’d upped her game and submitted a bizarre sexual fantasy that involved group water sports, a glass coffee table, being restrained, and hung upside down.

Rebecca is competitive and doesn’t take rejection lightly. Her ploy to be as extreme as possible worked — she was invited. She still talks about that evening to this day. There’s people who love to regale their tales at dinner parties and vomit them forth whether you want to listen or not? Rebecca doesn’t have a catalogue of them; she isn’t that boring. She just has the one — about the elite swinger’s party.

What struck me about her story, she was only twenty-one at the time but she couldn’t stop talking about this Millington guy who organised it all. He was old enough to be her grandfather but she was totally besotted. She said she’d never met anyone so charismatic.

Her story intrigued me and I decided I would apply when the window opened again. But I missed the next one due to my finals so I put the date for the next applications in my phone.

On the application form, having given your credentials and uploaded a photograph, you were invited to share your fantasy. I’m not a fantasist per se. I don’t make things up in my mind in order to satisfy myself with an earth-shattering orgasm. I prefer to scroll through my own personal sexual experiences.

So, I had a problem when applying. What personal sexual experience should I share? Which one would guarantee an invite from the enigmatic Millington Chase? Of all my sexual exploits, there is one that is guaranteed to make me climax. If it makes me come, then surely it would do something for Mr Chase? That’s what I figured, anyway.

I think what I’ve always liked about this particular exploit is the fact that I’m from a very prim and proper middle-class background. My parents are practicing Catholics and have always expected me to go to church every Sunday religiously, pardon the pun. They’d never left me alone in the house and always kept a tight rein on me in terms of curfews and, basically, how I lived my life.

However, even they knew they couldn’t do that forever. Despite all their reservations regarding ‘this world’, they would have to let the horse out of the stable, particularly when my piano teacher told them I had natural talent and, at nineteen, I should be allowed to spread my wings.

I think Gerald my piano teacher secretly wanted me to spread my legs, but I quickly dampened that squib when I threw him a look of distaste one lesson when his hand crept across the piano seat and onto my thigh. But talking about Gerald makes me feel sick and I’m digressing from my story.

Gerald did play an inadvertent role in the exploit that I shared with Millington Chase, an experience that has, I’ve just found out, secured me an invitation to his famous annual party. Yippee. Sorry, I got a bit carried away there, but to say I’m chuffed is an understatement. Back to my story.

After Gerald had somehow convinced my parents that I was a trustworthy, talented, a good all-round wholesome girl, they were persuaded to leave me alone in the house while they made their annual trek to Lourdes. In their eyes, I was nineteen years old going on twelve but Gerald convinced them that I would be fine.

I think Gerald thought he would be the one to keep an eye on me but I soon put paid to that notion.

Having the house to myself was so liberating, I took to walking around naked, imagining the neighbour at the back of me peeping on me. For me it was such a perverse thought but the more liberated I felt, the wilder my thought processes became.

I decided to take full advantage of an empty house and did what any newly liberated nineteen-year-old would do, I organised a party! I remember spending an inordinate amount of time shopping for nibbles and ensuring that I had every drink imaginable in the house. I also went slightly OCD on tidying up because being creative, my parents weren’t big on being tidy. I loved tidying up naked, like cleaning up my Catholic parent’s mess in such a state was one more step on my ladder of rebellion.

Everyone turned up from uni of course. By eight o’clock, the house was rammed and by eleven we were all so pissed, but I was on my liberation gig. I don’t even know what possessed me to do it, but I decided to go into the room that housed my precious piano and start playing. My playing rode over the sound of the music that my guests were dancing to and suddenly it felt like my party had come to an unceremonious halt.

A few guys entered the room and stood against the wall, their heads nodding in appreciation as they sipped their beers whilst watching me. A couple of them I’d always fancied; the other three, to me, were just spectators there for the ride.

I don’t know if it was the power of the piano or the fact that I’d been able to entice them away from the main part of the party that turned me on, but suddenly through the strains of Beethoven I felt a compulsion to undress. I wanted to feel the vibes and totally shock the lot of them.

I stopped playing and undressed slowly, enjoying the look of utter shock on their faces as I dropped my clothes and took off my underwear before sitting at the piano totally naked. Even though I didn’t make eye contact, I felt their gazes roaming my body. I imagined them looking at my breasts and appraising my nipples as they hardened under the sheer thrill of what I was doing.

As I played, I imagined their cocks getting hard as they wondered what had happened to shy Kate, Catholic Kate. Then a stunning thought entered my head: they’d give anything to fuck me. I stepped up the crescendo of Beethoven and allowed myself to play the tune with the intensity and horny abandon I was feeling.

The louder I played, the more I thought that I wanted these guys. I wanted each and every one of them to enter me and fuck me as I played with them all, abandoning my piano playing.

I looked over at Aaron, a student who had fucked his way through my course in the first semester. Aaron with the ebony curls, cut glass cheekbones, startling eyes and hard body. A fuck walking around on athletic legs. A guy confident in the fact that, even if his personality was average, his sexual prowess wasn’t — and I wanted him.

I wanted him to come over and feel my tits as I played. I wanted to feel his mouth on my neck, his fingers teasing my nipples. All it took was eye contact and a lick of my lips and, right on cue, Aaron came over.

He stood behind me, moved my hair to one side and kissed my neck. Light, feathery kisses at first followed by a deep suck, his tongue trailing down my neck as he played with my nipples. I heard myself gasp, and my pussy contracted with desire at his touch. I quietened down my piano playing so he could hear what I was saying.

‘Fuck me hard,’ I told him and looked across the room at his friends. ‘I want each and every one of you, one after the other. I want my pussy filled with cum.’

I don’t know what gave me the biggest thrill. The fact that I really wanted to be fucked senseless or the look of shock on their faces. A shock borne from the fact that my prim and proper façade had slipped.

Of course, Aaron fucked me first. He pulled me off the chair and bent me over, his hands roaming all over my body before his hands slipped between my legs, rubbing my pussy lightly before he spread me wide and pushed his cock inside. I looked across the room and saw the other guys rubbing their cocks through their jeans before unzipping. The thought of them getting hard watching me being fucked, brought me to orgasm.

The sound of my moans and my announcement that I was coming was too much for Aaron. He gathered pace and shot his hot cum inside me. I waited for Aaron to gather himself and remove his damp, limp cock.

I stayed bent over and beckoned to the group of guys who were slowly stroking their cocks. I made them line up and took each one in my mouth in turn. I loved the taste of pre-cum and all I wanted was my mouth to be filled with cum, and my face and tits covered with the sticky, warm stuff. And that’s exactly what happened.

I let each of them fuck me, but I chose who was going to come where as I lay on top of my piano. The family portrait gazing down at me gave me an extra thrill. This was the experience I shared with Millington Chase and it quite clearly impressed him.

Now, I must decide what I am going to wear for what I hope will be my best Valentine’s Day ever!

Authors Note: Thank you to JWren for his editing skills.