Black Orchid (12 page)

The relentless, ticklish pressure of his belly against her clitoris
was driving her wild, her well-lubricated sheath throbbing
and burning as the huge cock slid in and out of her. She closed
her eyes and concentrated on the sensations building deep
within her.

A kaleidoscope of colours exploded behind her eyelids as
the rhythmic rubbing brought her to orgasm, her ankles linking
behind Con's back as she sought to meld herself further with
him. A deep, guttural groan sounded deep in his throat,
emerging as a triumphant shout as his seed burst from him
and shot upward into her sex, still convulsing strongly around
him.

Even in the throes of orgasm, Con stood, feet planted firmly
shoulder-width apart, steady as a rock. He held Maggie
firmly until the waves had subsided and she clung weakly
to him, spent. Then he carefully lifted her up and off his still
partially erect penis and put her gently onto her feet in front
of him.

Maggie leaned weakly against the desk and watched him
as he calmly pulled his jeans back up, tucking his formidable
member inside before rebuttoning the fly. He smiled at her,
cocking his head slightly to one side as if expecting her to say
something.

'Th-thank you, Con,' she said shakily, 'we'll be in touch.'

He seemed to be about to say something then, thinking better
of it, he grinned and nodded, striding away from her with the
same jaunty confidence as when he approached her. Maggie
watched him go, admiring the neatness of his muscular behind
in the tight-fitting jeans. As the door swung to behind him, she
slumped slightly, running her fingers distractedly through her
dishevelled hair.

She jumped as the door opened again and another man
came through. She hadn't buzzed to say she was ready yet –
surely she had time to wash and pee?

'One moment I . . .' she trailed off as she surveyed the man
who hovered uncertainly in the doorway.

The contrast between this one and Con was so marked it was
almost laughable. It was almost as if they were from a different
species. This one was a good foot shorter, about equal to Maggie's
own five feet six inches with a skinny, weedy build. His shoulders
were rounded, his chest even more so, virtually concave. The white
T-shirt he was wearing should have clung to his pectorals, instead
it hung loosely across his chest and disappeared into his baggy
grey slacks. Maggie guessed he must be here for maintenance, or
some other thing that would have to wait until later.

'Sorry,' Maggie smiled politely, pulling her robe more closely
around her, 'could you come back later?'

He blinked uncertainly and shuffled his feet. Maggie tried
to conceal her impatience. She had an increasingly urgent need
to pee and she could feel the residue of Con's semen trickling
down her inner thighs.

'I'm rather busy at the moment,' she explained, 'you see, I'm
in the middle of interviewing.'

If he thought it odd that Maggie was conducting job interviews
dressed in nothing but a silk robe, he did not show it.
He virtually wrang his hands together as if gathering his
courage to speak to her. When, finally, he did dare to address
her, his voice was shrill with nerves.

'Excuse me, but I'm next, Madam.'

Maggie stared at him, fighting with the urge to laugh.

'Um, well, I'm sorry, but I think there's been a mistake. You
do know what the job entails?'

'Oh yes, Madam. I think I'm well suited to it, begging your
pardon for being so bold.'

His ingratiating manner was beginning to get on Maggie's
nerves. Her tone was abrupt as she asked him. 'What's your
name?'

'Malcolm, Madam.'

Well, it would be, wouldn't it? Maggie's lips twitched. He
had virtually bobbed a curtsey as he introduced himself.

'Pleased to meet you, Malcolm, but I don't think you're quite
what I had in mind for the job.'

She expected him to give up at that point, but he was still
gazing at her hopefully with his wide, brown, lost puppy dog
eyes. She sighed. He really was a most uninspiring specimen.
Not only was he nauseatingly self deprecating but his mousy
brown hair stuck up in alarmed tufts on top of his head,
reminding her of a toilet brush. Losing patience, she abandoned
all pretence of charm and snapped.

'Look, Malcolm, I need a shower and a pee and I don't have
time to stand here and argue with you. Do you understand?'

His face took on an expression of adoration.

'Oh yes, Madam, but if you'd just allow me . . . may I?'

Maggie frowned. Maybe if she humoured him, he'd go away.
She nodded, raising her eyebrows in surprise as Malcolm
dropped to his knees and shuffled towards her. She stood stock
still as he reached her and pressed his lips against each of her
feet in turn.

Glancing uncomfortably at the two-way mirror, she imagined
Antony and Alexander watching them. It was a new angle to
her to find herself in charge of a man as submissive as this, and
she was not sure if she liked it. Malcolm reverently lifted the
hem of her robe and began to lick his way up her inner thigh.

Maggie tensed as another droplet of semen seeped out of
her and ran down her leg. Malcolm lapped it up, sucking at
the soft, damp skin as if the combined juices of her coupling
with Con were the sweetest nectar. Whatever his deficiencies
as a man in her eyes, Malcolm definitely had a skilful tongue.
Maggie relaxed against the desk and obligingly parted her
thighs, granting him access to the sticky curls between
them.

Closing her eyes on the unattracive sight of Malcolm's hair
between her legs, Maggie concentrated instead on the pleasant
sensations of his respectful, wet tongue lapping its way along
her moist folds. After the punishing encounter she had enjoyed
with Con, Malcolm's attentions were soothing against her
swollen sex.

He nibbled on her resting bud until it began to spasm, not
with the furious, all-consuming tremors Con had evoked, but
in a gentle, mild climax which was pleasant rather than mind
blowing. Maggie smiled, glad that Malcolm had some
talent.

Unfortunately the orgasm caused the muscles of her overfull
bladder to relax and when Malcolm very deliberately
pressed the tip of his tongue firmly against her urethra,
Maggie was powerless to prevent a small trickle of urine from
escaping.

Mortified, she clenched her pelvic floor muscles to stop the
leakage, but Malcolm seemed determined not to let her go. The
urge to pee grew stronger as he teased the tiny hole, probing
with his tongue until she could hold back no longer.

Maggie looked down in horror as the steady stream of golden
liquid flowed over Malcolm's face and down his neck. His eyes
were closed, his mouth open, the expression on his face
rapturous. He had unzipped his flies and was masturbating
himself furiously. As Maggie finished, his orgasm overtook him
and his semen spurted out, mingling with the steaming urine
on the front of his trousers.

Repulsed, Maggie lifted her foot and pushed his shoulder
with the toe of her mule. Malcolm toppled over, writhing about
on the floor in a paroxysm of ecstacy.

'You filthy little worm! Make sure you're out of here when
I get back!'

She flounced into her private bathroom and locked the door
behind her. Her angry, flushed face stared back at her in the
mirror over the basin. Suddenly, she began to laugh. The little
man was priceless! How many of their clients, probably stuck
with a boorish, domineering partner, would like to get their
own back on mankind? And Malcolm had obviously loved every
minute of the humiliation to which she had unwittingly
subjected him.

Taking the time for a quick, rejuvenating shower, Maggie
changed into a clean robe, identical to the first, and ventured
back into the office. To her relief, Malcolm had disappeared.
Someone had been in to clean up for there was a damp patch
on the carpet and the sharp antiseptic scent of cleaning fluid
hung in the air. Maggie pressed the button on the intercom.

'Next, please.'

The next candidate virtually bounced into the room. He was
fit, exuding good health in his casual, dark-red sweat top and
baggy black track pants, and he was young. Very young.

'I'm Jason,' he introduced himself eagerly, trying not to make
it obvious that he was eyeing her up.

Maggie hid a smile as she noticed he already had a hard-on
and that the track pants could barely contain his
enthusiasm.

'How old are you, Jason.' she asked him, resisting the urge
to ask if his mother knew he was here.

Jason's cherubic, boyish face split into a cheeky grin.

'Everyone asks me that. I'm twenty . . . well, all right, I'm
eighteen – honestly,' he laughed as he saw her disbelief, 'I could
show you my driver's licence?'

'No need,' she said quickly. She was sure that such basic,
mundane matters would have been checked out long before
he got to this stage. Briefly, she wondered if eighteen was old
enough. But there was eighteen, and there was eighteen!

'Do you like women, Jason?'

'You bet!'

'
All
women?'

'Tall, short, fat, thin, blonde, brunette, redhead—'

'OK, OK!' she laughed, 'I get the picture.'

She walked slowly towards him, watching his reaction as
she deliberately allowed her hips to sway. It wasn't difficult to
adopt the exaggerated roll of the pelvis in the high-heeled
mules. Jason stood still, only his eyes following her as she
circled him, looking him up and down appraisingly.

He had an open, honest sort of face, smooth jawed, blue eyed
with a smartly barbered crop of shiny, clean blond hair. There
was a deep cleft in the centre of his chin which hinted at more
craggy looks as he aged. His body was well sculpted, his legs
long and lean and his chest pleasingly broad. Maggie could
smell the faintest trace of fresh, lemony soap as she stood
closer to him, noting the way his cock leaped in his trousers
in reaction to her proximity.

'Do you like to fuck, Jason?' she enquired, dropped her voice
an octave.

His colour rose slightly, but he met her teasing gaze without
flinching and grinned.

'You bet!' he said again.

'Hmm. And does your skill match your enthusiasm?'

'Want to try me?'

Maggie smiled and reached up to run her forefinger down
the side of his smooth-skinned cheek.

'You bet!' she whispered.

Jason's lips were unexpectedly demanding as they moved
on hers and Maggie felt her blood quicken. So he looked young
– she certainly didn't feel in the least bit maternal towards
him now! Taking him by the hand, she led him over to the
lemon chintz couch and pulled him down onto it, on top of
her.

Briefly, she wondered if Antony and Alexander were enjoying
themselves behind the two-way mirror as she contented
herself with savouring the kiss. Drawing Jason's tongue into
her mouth, she sucked at it gently, encouraging him to relinquish
the self-control she could sense he was struggling to
retain.

She lifted her shoulders up off the couch to help him as he
eased her robe down, exposing her soft-tipped breasts. His eyes
were hot, warming her skin as he gazed down on her with a
mixture of admiration and lust.

'God, you're beautiful!' he breathed.

Maggie hid a smile at the conviction in his voice. In anyone
else she might have dismissed the comment as a stock line,
but from Jason it sounded fresh and new. As he lowered his
head to kiss her breasts, Maggie tangled her fingers in his thick,
glossy hair, massaging his scalp as he drew one swelling nipple
into his hot mouth.

Tiny shivers of pleasure coursed down her spine and she
felt the moisture begin to gather between her thighs in
response to the feel of his lean young body pressing against
her silk-covered mound. Jason's hands were roaming at will
all over her upper body, his mouth planting tiny butterfly kisses
along the tender skin of her inner arm from her wrist to her
armpit before tracing the line of her collar-bone and running
back down the other arm from shoulder to hand.

Maggie helped him remove his trousers and briefs, her
mouth curving into a pleased smile as his penis sprang into
view. Like the rest of him, it was well formed and hard, the
soft protective foreskin already drawing back to reveal the
purple headed glans beneath. Maggie would have liked to
have tasted that magnificent specimen, but she was aware
that time was short.

Her brief was to try out each candidate's satisfaction quotient
from a woman's point of view. Any pleasure they derived from
the exercise should be purely coincidental, not arrived at
through any direct action from her.

With that in mind, she pushed his head gently lower. He
needed no further encouragement to open her robe completely
and spread her softly quivering thighs.

Maggie gasped at the first contact of his tongue on her
swollen vulva. This sensation was completely different from
Malcolm's tentative, nervous licks. Jason ran his tongue around
the tender folds in bold, confident strokes, as if he were settling
down to a particularly delicious meal.

As the centre of her pleasure zone responded, she arched her
back and bore down, inviting him to deepen his exploration.
He did not disappoint her. She groaned as his hard, seeking
tongue found the straining nub and flicked hungrily back and
forth over it.

A delicious warmth slowly radiated out from that tiny point,
suffusing her with a sense of well being that only truly good
sex could imbue. Jason had found her blossoming opening
with one finger and he gently moved it in and out as he
continued to diligently stroke her outer sex with his tongue.

Maggie wrapped her long legs around his neck, holding him
to her as the familiar waves began to break and the heat rose
up and consumed her. All her attention was focused on that
small core of her femininity as it pulsed and throbbed against
the pressure of Jason's eager tongue.

She smiled at him as he raised his head. His eyes were glazed,
his chin smeared with her feminine secretions and he was
smiling. Dipping his head, he blazed a trail of kisses in a line
from her pubis to her throat before claiming her mouth.

Maggie wrapped her legs around his waist and urged him to
possess her. He leaned his forehead against hers for a moment
as the tip of his swollen cock nudged against the entrance to
her welcoming sex. He slipped inside her with a sigh, resting
there for a few seconds before beginning to slowly withdraw.

Gradually, he built up his rhythm, exquisitely slowly at
first, then gaining momentum. Maggie matched his movements,
bringing her bottom up from the sofa to meet him,
drawing him into her and tightening her intimate muscles
as he withdrew.

His smooth skin grew hot under her palms as he began
to quicken his pace, building to a crescendo. They rolled
together, slipping off the couch and onto the soft carpet. For
a moment, Maggie was on top, then he rolled her over again
onto her back, holding her buttocks in his hands as he thrust
into her.

Maggie could feel little thrills of sensation rippling through
her as the movement of his thick, hard shaft stimulated the walls
of the silky sheath which enclosed him. She closed her eyes and
concentrated on the delicious friction, digging her fingernails
into his shoulders as his breathing became faster and more
shallow and his movement became frenzied. He cried out as he
came, collapsing on top of her and covering her face with
kisses.

'God, you're fantastic!' he gasped, his voice quavering.

Maggie cradled his head against her breast as she waited
for his breathing to slow and his temperature to return to
normal. She was touched by his gratitude, moved by his innocence.
His sexual style owed more to enthusiasm than finesse,
but it was energetic and honest and she knew this was an
experience she would look forward to repeating.

At last, they peeled apart and he used her bathroom to
freshen up while she called for a cold drink. He took a coke
from her gratefully and drank it quickly. Maggie sipped at hers,
watching the muscles in his throat contract as he swallowed.

He grinned at her as he handed her his empty glass. 'Thanks
– I needed that! Have I got the job?'

Maggie smiled.

'We'll be in touch,' he told him.

His face fell, a picture of disappointment.

'Oh.'

Maggie could not let him leave like that. She stepped forward
and kissed him on the cheek.

'I'm sure we'll meet again,' she murmured, her face turned
away from the two-way mirror so that only he could hear.

Jason's face split into its usual happy grin and he hugged
her.

'Be seeing you, then,' he said and he left with as much spring
in his step as there had been when he first came in.

Maggie took a few minutes to compose herself. She knew
now why Alexander had decided to watch the proceedings. No
doubt it gave him a kick to see her take five men one after the
other. She shivered. If only she knew what went on in his
mind!

After she had washed, she buzzed the intercom and took a
seat by the curtained window so that she would have time to
appraise the next candidate before he saw her. The door opened
and a young, long-haired man swaggered through it. His hair
was a dirty blond colour, his eyes, when he turned them on
her a faded blue. He was wearing tight, brown leather trousers
and a white, wide-sleeved cotton shirt, unbuttoned at the front
to his navel.

'Hi babe, I'm Darren,' he drawled.

Maggie winced. He looked and sounded like a parody of a
seventies rock star. A complete turn off.

'Hello. Won't you sit down?'

She indicated the other rattan chair and he strolled over and
perched awkwardly on its edge. His eyes skittered from her
face to the window and round the room. He linked his hands
loosely in front of him, brought them up to his chin, then
dropped them again. Finally, he seemed to be able to bear the
silence no longer.

'Well, are we goin' to get it on or what?'

Maggie considered telling him to get lost and go and do 'or
what'. She didn't have the energy. Standing up, she raised her
eyes heavenward at the two-way mirror before turning back
to Darren, unbelting her robe and letting it fall to the ground.
Then she stepped out of her shoes and waited.

His faded blue eyes grew rounder, fixed on her naked breasts
as he leaped to his feet and tore off his clothes. He had a good
body, Maggie noted dispassionately, probably better than
young Jason's. So why didn't the sight of him, naked and erect,
do anything for her?

Darren's hand on her bare skin were cool and knowing.
As if following a tried and tested ritual he had learned off
by heart, he smoothed the skin of her neck and squeezed her
breast, kissed her half-heartedly and stared soulfully into
her eyes as he led her over to the sofa and slowly laid her
on her back.

Maggie's mind wandered to the meal Alexander had promised
to cook that evening, one of her favourites. She frowned slightly
as Darren thrust one hand between her closed thighs and twiddled
about for a minute. Satisfied that she was wet – he wasn't
to know that she had already been with two men and could
hardly be otherwise – he bent her legs at the knees and thrust
into her, making her wince.

His face was intent as he drove in and out of her and Maggie
realised he had probably forgotten who she was. So intent was
he on reaching his own climax, he didn't notice her grimacing
frantically at the two-way mirror.

'Yes! Oh yes!' he yelled as he reached the peak.

Maggie fought the urge to giggle. He rolled off her and they
both dressed in silence. There was a bubble of smug self-satisfaction
about Darren which she was longing to burst. Her
chance came soon enough.

'When do I start work, then, darlin'?' he asked her casually
as he zipped his leather trousers.

'You don't.'

'Huh?'

'I think you have been labouring under a misconception,
darling
. This is an exclusive club for very discerning ladies. Not
a knocking shop set up for the benefit of our male employees.'

'Whaddaya mean?'

Maggie ignored the belligerent scowl and continued. 'You're
not up to it, my dear.'

'I've never had any complaints before.'

'No, but then sheep can't speak, can they?'

They both jumped as Antony's voice came from behind
them.

'Wot's that supposed ter mean, then?' Darren took a step
towards Antony then, eyeing his superior physique, obviously
thought better of it.

'It means it's time for you to leave. And try to learn a few
manners before you next approach a lady.'

Darren swung towards the door, his high colour signalling
he was offended. As he reached the door, he turned back to
Maggie and spluttered.

'I'll tell you wot your trouble is, darlin' – you're frigid!'

'Get out,' Antony said, his voice dripping boredom.

'I didn't enjoy it anyway, bleedin' lesbian!' was Darren's
parting shot as he slammed out of the door.

Antony turned to Maggie and raised an eyebrow at her.

'Are you all right?'

She nodded, then couldn't keep back the laughter bubbling
in her throat. Antony joined in.

'Frigid!' he said.

They put their arms round each other and laughed until
the tears were running down their cheeks. When they had
recovered, Antony brushed the hair out of her eyes tenderly.
Holding her gaze, he asked, 'I'm sorry, I don't know how that
boor got through.'

Maggie shrugged. 'Don't worry – I've dealt with far worse
than him on the outside. It was probably Alexander's idea of
a joke.'

'You could be right. If you're OK, do you feel up to the last
interview?'

'Is this one civilised?'

'I'd say he is.'

Maggie laughed.