NAUGHTY OR NICE? includes my short story, "Caught Watching."
Here's an X-rated teaser (see that rating, you've been warned! ;)
I nearly didn't go to the party. The seasonal celebrations had been rocking on for two weeks already, with office parties, family and friends to see. I was ready to sidestep this one. Then I reminded myself that my New Year's resolution was to see and do even more. Besides, Natalie insisted I had to go and meet her latest playmate.
Natalie and I worked for the same London media corporation and her roller-coaster love life never failed to capture the attention of her friends. She loved that attention. I didn't quiz her about the new playmate over the phone. Part of the fun was finding out whether the playmate was a playgirl, or a playboy.
"Okay, I'll be there." I glanced at my wardrobe dubiously. The party season had severely depleted it, but I managed to find my leather mini skirt and a crop top amongst the pile of abandoned party wear.
The event was being held at a music studio in Camden, and the party was in full swing by the time I got there, the lobby a crush of guests high on seasonal goodwill. A Christmas tree blinked lights in one corner, the framed photographs and discs on the walls adorned with decorations. Natalie rushed through the crowd when she spotted me, all tumbling dark hair and luscious curves in a PVC bodice and skirt. Around her neck she wore a froth of silver tinsel, boa-like. She hugged me and led me into the main room, where people were dancing. She grabbed me a glass of wine and then took me over to a lean punk with a crown of bleached hair.
"This is Idol," she announced. "Well, that's the name she goes by and I think it suits her, don't you?"
It did suit her. The woman’s combination of power and wariness made her both distant and desirable. I nodded and smiled, eyeing her body, perfectly outlined in a simple white t-shirt and jeans. Heavy work boots completed her look.
"Don't ask her real name," Natalie added. "She won't tell anyone, not even me."
Idol draped herself against Natalie, possessively. She gave me a wicked smile and then drew Natalie away onto the crowded dance floor. Natalie wrapped her tinsel boa around Idol’s neck, shimmying it as they danced. That was cute. And sexy. Natalie waved and winked at me. She was simmering, visibly. I watched Idol's hand moving around Natalie's hips and smiled back, inspired by their flagrant sexuality.
I drank my wine and edged round the party, chatting with people I knew from the office. When I remembered to check my lipstick, I couldn't find any obvious signs to the bathroom. Gloomy corridors and storerooms branched off from the studios in all directions. I investigated cautiously, the noise of the party receding as a door closed behind me. At the end of the corridor an oblong of light drew my attention. As I got closer, I heard laughter.
"No, I want to wear it." It sounded like Natalie.
I paused when I could see into the room. It wasn't the ladies' at all, it was an office, and the two inhabitants obviously weren't expecting company. Idol was sitting on a high-backed chair, entirely naked. Natalie was standing in front of her, holding a strap-on cock in one hand.
I stepped back, hiding in the darkness.
Idol smiled up at Natalie and put down her wine glass. Lifting her legs she hung them over the arms of the chair. In that one swift move, she exposed the thatch of fair hair over her pubic bone and the glistening slit beneath. She ran one finger over her clit.
I glanced back down the passageway. Could I risk going back, or would they hear me? I realized I had inadvertently become a spectator to a private show. And now Natalie had unzipped her skirt and was stepping out of it.
She was wearing high-heeled boots, stockings and garters, no panties. The pale globes of her arse contrasted starkly with the black garters and stockings. The abandoned tinsel boa trailed on the floor, somewhere nearby people were singing Christmas songs in drunken, laughter-filled voices. It was like some debauched Christmas card vision of sex and celebration. I couldn't look away; the scene transfixed me.
Natalie bent over, the strap-on hanging loosely in one hand, like a loaded gun. She tongued Idol's clit, and Idol was wired. "Put it on," she demanded, impatiently.
Natalie climbed into the strap-on, pulling the holster tight against her pussy. She knelt down, one hand on the rigid cock, the other cupping one of Idol's pert breasts. She captured the swollen nipple between her thumb and forefinger, her mouth on the other nipple, sucking heavily.
Idol's head began to roll from side to side against the back of the chair. “Hurry," she pleaded. Natalie began to ease the head of the cock into her slippery hole, spreading Idol’s juices over it as she went. "Oh god," Idol moaned. "It's huge."
Natalie chuckled. "I know, but you're going to have to take it, honey." She worked her hips slowly, edging it deeper inside, her hands going to the arms of the chair to brace herself.
Idol began to rock, her eyes wide. "Fuck, it's right there," she whimpered, her hips moving.
My breathing tripped. I’d heard a sound behind me. Before I had time to turn around, an arm grabbed me around the waist and a hand fell over my mouth. My heart missed a beat. I was hauled back against a body that enveloped mine.
"Well, well, what have we here, a naughty little voyeur?" The question was breathed low against my ear, followed by a dark chuckle. I reacted, my fingers pulling at the hand over my mouth. The man seized me tighter still, drawing me back and deeper into the shadows, a warning note in his voice. "Stay quiet. You wouldn't want to interrupt them would you, not when she is so close to coming?"
Even if I could speak, what could I say?
I shook my head. After a moment, the hand slipped away from my mouth. I breathed deeply, glancing back. In the gloom, I saw a flash of high cheekbones and hooded eyes, watchful and sparkling with humor. My face flamed at the idea of being caught watching by this man, this stranger. A rather attractive stranger, I noticed. He put one finger to his lips and then pointed me back toward the scene. I obeyed, my attention torn between the women and the dominating presence of the man standing a hairs' breadth behind me.
I started, but smiled, when his hands found their way around me. The scent of his musk, like warm nectar, seduced me. While he watched over my shoulder, he ran his fingers against my throat, the other hand drawing my body tight against his. He caressed the outline of my breasts through my top. I fought the urge to moan aloud. His fingers tightening on my nipples wired them into the heat between my thighs, creating a molten loop of tension through my body.
In front of us, Idol began to groan, loudly. Her hips plunged on the glistening cock.
I was on fire with arousal. I thrust my hips back against him. He was rock hard. His hands moved to my skirt, shifting the leather on my hips. A pang of deviance deep in my core roared its approval. Yes, I wanted him to lift my skirt, to touch me. I reached down and shimmied the leather up.
He reacted -- turned me in his arms, backing me to the wall, his fingers pressing my g-string into my damp slit. He bent to kiss me, his mouth opening me up, making me melt. I lifted one leg along his flank, letting him in. His hips ground against my pussy, lifting me bodily. Hot need welled inside me, my clit sparking.
“You’re on fire,” he whispered against my lips.
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