Breath on the Wind (9 page)

By the time she left, she was seething with anger, and under a black cloud of impotence.  The two men, secure in their own power bases, had told her in their bureaucratic code that until she, or one of her customers or employees, got hurt, they wouldn’t lift a finger.  As well as being a situation that she wanted to avoid at all costs, because she was, well, human, such a thing would be catastrophic for her business.  One of her employees being hurt would be devastating for Andy personally, but one of her customers getting hurt would be something that her business would not recover from.  There would be no point in anyone taking any action in the event of that happening.

The weight of her duty to the people depending on her sat heavy on Andy’s shoulders.  She needed respite from her responsibilities.  The scene that she had planned for Chiz would be the perfect form of stress-relief, if he turned up.  It had the potential to join the rest of the week in her list of fucks to remember.

She had kept her diary clear for the slim portion of the afternoon that remained after the pointless meeting.  She had some shopping that she needed to do.  As she slid into her car, Andy smiled to herself, imagining the likely expression on Chiz’s face when she revealed her plan.  She hoped he turned up.

Chapter Eight

Chiz hated the area where Elmo lived, almost before he’d gotten to her house.  First he’d ridden through areas which still bore great scars left by what could only have been a tornado followed by a bulldozer.  Whole blocks would be comfortably unaffected, and then suddenly a gap would open up, an absence of structures where the ground was unnaturally flat and even, noticeable even in the dark by the complete absence of light from houses or street lamps. 

When he reached the subdivision that contained the address that Elmo had given him the night before, he seriously thought about turning back.  The thunderous roar of his Harley physically violated the empty, silent streets where the only visible modes of transportation were bicycles and hybrids.  It was yuppie hell, and he was riding into the middle of it.  It didn’t fit with the impression of Elmo he’d formed so far.

He knew which house was Elmo’s, without checking the numbers, because of the car outside.  He’d never seen her ride, but the blood-red Miata that flashed in the beam of his headlights was a statement in the sea of corporately bland individuality.  He parked his bike behind Elmo’s car, and for the first time felt confident that perhaps he wouldn’t come out to find it covered in Greenpeace or Save the Whales stickers.

She answered his knock wearing a fluffy terrycloth robe that covered her from her shoulders to the ankles of her bare feet.  Not an outfit he’d been expecting.

Chiz handed Elmo the bottle of Jameson he’d brought with a skeptically raised eyebrow.  “Here’s to a quiet night in, doll.”

She opened the door wider and waved him in with the bottle.  “Whether or not we’re quiet remains to be seen, baby.”

He followed her through the shoebox of a house.  He was fairly certain that his room at the clubhouse was bigger than her living room.  He’d never been claustrophobic before, but his chest felt a little tight, and he was beginning to miss his motel room.  That, at least, was cozy.  This was stark and unforgiving, all wooden floors and white paint, with a few colored cushions thrown around as if color was an afterthought.  It looked to be straight out of a catalogue.  It was devoid of individuality, and told him nothing about her personal taste.  Her personality had been hidden under a coat of gloss paint.  The whole thing, the fastidiously neat area, the tiny house and equally small car, the do-it-by-numbers decorating, was aggressively single. 

Between the funhouse feel of the location and the dowdy gown that Elmo was wearing, all so opposite from the daring, unrestrained woman he’d come to know, Chiz felt uncomfortable and twitchy. Only the car, vibrant and built for speed, seemed to fit with the Elmo he knew.

It took about twenty steps to get from the front door to the kitchen.  Chiz looked around, noting the complete absence of photographs or anything that hinted at the sort of life that Elmo led, or any family she might have.  Chiz was a neat freak, but Elmo took it to a whole other level.  There was no clutter anywhere, not even a crumb on the breadboard.  Chiz wondered if she ever actually ate food in the room.  She set the bottle down on the counter, so that she could pull two glasses from a matte grey wall cupboard, and poured them both a generous amount of golden liquid.  Even the whiskey seemed out of place.

When she handed him his glass, he took a long swallow.  He craved the familiar warmth of the alcohol in his gut in counterpoint to the unfamiliar surroundings.

Elmo took an equally large drink and returned her glass to the counter.  “I’ll be back in a moment.  I just need to finish up getting ready.”

God, he hoped the rest of her preparations didn’t involve bed socks and a hot-water bottle.

“Take your time, doll.”

Elmo left the room, headed into the rest of the house, and what Chiz supposed must have been her bedroom.  He finished the whiskey in his glass and, not hearing any sounds of Elmo’s return, poured himself some more.

He was peering out through the night-darkened glass of the window, trying to make out if Elmo had a yard, when he heard her re-enter the room.  It was the tap of shoes on the hard floor that had alerted him to her return.  That was promising.  He turned, and almost choked on the mouthful of whiskey he’d been about to swallow.

“Tonight’s your turn.”

He tried not to outright sputter, and covered it with a cough, but he knew he wasn’t hiding his shock, and absolute fucking delight.

A schoolgirl outfit.  She was wearing a fucking schoolgirl outfit, and it was fucking perfect.  The tight white shirt was half unbuttoned, partly through necessity, because it was too small to contain her breasts, which were covered in almost innocent, white lace.  There was a little frill of a tartan, pleated skirt that ended miles above white knee socks, and the whole thing was topped off with a striped tie, loosely knotted, so that it didn’t obstruct the view, and shiny black shoes with a little strap across the foot.  She’d even tied her hair into messy pigtails, and was biting the corner of her bottom lip, playing coy, as she twirled the end of a pigtail around her finger.

Elmo didn’t speak, but her grin turned downright devilish as she unwound her finger from her hair so that she could slide her hands over her ribs, from just under her breasts, down to the skirt that was so short it was almost a belt.  She teased up the hem, but before Chiz could see anything she turned around.  Looking back over her shoulder at him she ran her palms from her waist over her ass, back to the hem of the skirt.  She pinched the edge of the material between her forefingers and thumbs and raised it, very slowly, until he could see the chaste, white cotton panties she was wearing underneath.

“You horny bitch.”  His voice, breathy and rough with lust, made her laugh.

She dropped her skirt and turned around.  She caught the end of a pigtail and resumed twirling it in her fingers.  “If you say so, Sir.”

Chiz forgot about the prissy neighborhood, the miniature house and the odd way that Elmo’s personality seemed to be completely absent in the place that she lived.  His cock was rock hard and demanding all his attention.  If this was the game she wanted to play, he was more than happy to jump into the role.

“You’ve been a naughty girl.  You better go stand outside the Principal’s office.”  He could hear that her breath caught as her cheeks flushed pink.

He followed her when she left the kitchen, but she only went as far as the sofa in the living room.  She stood next to the end of the uncomfortably square-looking piece of furniture.  Chiz didn’t care if it was filled with bricks.  He’d sit on a bed of nails to get to her, if he had to.

Elmo put the tip of one finger in her mouth, pretending to chew the nail.  “Gee, Sir, I didn’t mean for you to catch me blowing Bobby in the locker room.”

Chiz sat on the sofa.  It wasn’t quite as rigid as it looked.  It’d do.  He caught something out of the corner of one eye.  When he looked down he saw that Elmo had placed the paper sack, still full of its kinky paraphernalia, on the floor.

Chiz sat back on the sofa, feet flat on the floor, knees apart.  He motioned Elmo to stand directly in front of him.  “Come here.”

Elmo moved to the spot he indicated, close, but still almost out of reach.  “Yes, Sir?”

“You’ve been a naughty girl.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“What happens to naughty girls?”

“I don’t know, Sir.”  Her voice wasn’t quite steady, and that made Chiz’s pulse jump.

“They get punished.  Come closer.” 

Elmo stepped forward in between his knees.

Chiz sat up and forward.  He ran his hand from the top of one of the knee socks, up over the side of Elmo’s knee, fingertips teasing the sensitive skin behind the joint, before skimming his palm up her thigh to just under the cheek of her ass.  He repeated the motion in slow circles.

“I didn’t expect to find an Honor student like you, sucking cock in the locker room.”

Elmo stayed silent. 

Chiz stilled his hand at her knee, just moving the tips of his fingers over the skin behind the joint.  He slid his other hand in between Elmo’s legs, smoothing his palm up and down the soft skin, just barely grazing her panties every time he reached the apex of her thighs.

“Tell me what happened.”  He rasped.

He watched as Elmo’s brown eyes blazed, and she caught herself from smiling, trying to stay in character.  “Well, Sir, Bobby asked me to meet him after practice.  He told me to meet him at the locker room, but I was too scared to go in while the rest of the team were there.  I’ve never seen a boy undressed, Sir.  I waited until the rest of the team had left, but Bobby wasn’t with them.  I was almost going to leave when he leaned out of the door and told me to follow him back in.  He promised that everyone had left.”

Chiz nodded for her to continue.  She had a surprising gift for improvisation. 

“I didn’t realize he was only wearing a towel until he shut the door behind me, Sir.  He told me to sit on one of the benches…”

Elmo paused and pretended to bite her nail again.

“Go on.”  Chiz was still rubbing his hand between her thighs.  Her body heat was almost scalding.

“Well sir, that’s when he dropped the towel, and asked me to… asked me to suck his thing, Sir.  I didn’t know what to do, so he told me to kiss it, Sir.  Then he told me to put it in my mouth.”

Chiz started rubbing his fingers over her panties with every upstroke.  The thin material was drenched.

“Keep going,” he grated.

“He grabbed my hair, Sir, so I couldn’t move my head.  But he seemed to like it, Sir.  He kept telling me I was his best girl.  Then you walked in, Sir.”  Elmo’s hips were moving unconsciously against his hand.  Chiz had to concentrate on his breathing to slow the fire in his gut, before he came in his jeans.

“You’ve been a very, very naughty girl.  Kneel down here.”

Elmo knelt down on the floor, where Chiz indicated, beside him.  She let him pull her up and position her, so that her body was across his knees.  She was just about able to steady herself with her fingertips against the smooth floor.  Chiz slid his palm over her ass, covered by the soft, white cotton, but exposed by the short skirt which had ridden up.  He tugged the panties down so that they rested just underneath her cheeks.  He brought his palm down flat on her ass, hard and fast, and sudden.  Elmo jumped and yelped.

He spanked her a second, third, fourth and fifth time.  Although she remained silent for those, her skin was beginning to glow warmly, and he knew it would be starting to sting.  He delivered another two blows with the flat of his hand before slipping his fingers into her scorching cleft; she was dripping wet.

“You like this, don’t you?”  Chiz’s throat was dry.  It was a struggle to get the words out.

“Yes, Sir.”  Elmo breathed.  Chiz wasn’t sure that they were entirely still in their roles.  He pulled the cotton panties back into place and ran his hand over the tender cheeks, thoroughly enjoying the way she moved against his hand.

“Stand up.”

Elmo stumbled as she maneuvered herself off his knee.  Chiz reached into the bag before standing, too.  Elmo watched him, and stayed still as he wrapped the cuffs firmly around her wrists, securing her arms in front of her.  He reached back into the bag for the blindfold.  Elmo allowed him to tie it in place.  Chiz tugged the neck tie a little so that the knot slid further down, allowing him to undo a few more buttons on her shirt.  He spread the flimsy material, and reached in to push the cups of Elmo’s bra down, so that the lace bunched underneath her full beasts, pushing them upwards in a lewd display.  Chiz briefly licked his finger and thumb before pinching and twisting each of her hard nipples in turn, causing Elmo to throw her head back and blindly push her breasts more firmly into his hands for more torment.

Chiz carefully positioned Elmo in front of the sofa, and helped her to lean over it, so that she could hold onto the backrest with her cuffed hands.  She was bent at the hips and her ass was there, just fucking begging for his attention.

He stood behind her, and dropped to his knees.  Chiz ran his hands up the full length of Elmo’s legs until he could hook his fingertips into the elasticated edge of her panties.  He pulled them down slowly, knowing that the waistband would be scraping over her sore skin.  He took hold of her ankles to help her step out of them, and brought the underwear to his face, quickly breathing in her scent, before pocketing them with a smile.