Chapter 6: She takes him shopping

He was first to be woken by the morning light, and he glanced over at her to check if it had all been real. It had been. She was. She looked lovely, almost angelic as she slept. At peace.

He drew back the cover from her slender shoulders, past the bas-relief of her collar bones and throat, across rising slopes with a deepening valley between them, until all was revealed. Jutting black-tipped hillocks, standing well up from her chest. She even had cleavage when lying on her back! Oh, the beauty of young breasts. Big, young breasts.

He leaned across and gently dabbed his tongue at the nearest fat round nipple, wetting it with his saliva. Then he flicked harder, causing a slight tremor go through the mass of her breast each time his tongue lashed at its teat.

Her eyes fluttered open, and regained their focus after a few seconds.

"You'd better masturbate" she said, "I'm not really a morning person."

"Can I look at you?"

"Sure."

She swept off the cover until her whole naked brown torso was revealed to his eager gaze. Lying on her side facing him, her boobs pressed together into a veritable canyon of cleavage. This posture accentuated the broad flare of her hips, dipping like a roller coaster to her narrow waist and rising again to her chest.

He inserted his left hand between her smooth silky thighs until its edge rested against her pussy, and she clamped it there, not allowing him to move. He took himself in hand with his free arm, coaxing himself to maximum stiffness while feasting his eyes upon her. She watched him dreamily, not yet fully awake.

He was still not completely comfortable about wanking in her presence, but he was starting to get used to the idea. It made her happy, and he liked for her to be happy. Anyway, he wanted to come pretty bad.

The visual stimulus of her pose made this pretty good as wanking goes, but it got better when she reached an arm across and used one of her long fingernails to idly flick his nipple. His neurons jangled and sent repeated messages to his dick to get even harder.

He felt the familiar tickle at the root of his prick, and got quite breathless as he pounded with increasing vigour. Then "Oooofff!" and he was shooting, so far that the first jet landed high on his chest. The rest ended up clinging to the mat of body hairs across his stomach.

She had a bemused look on her face, arching an eyebrow expressively as she idly stirred one of the gobs of semen on his tummy with the tip of her finger. Then she raised herself up to lean over him, boobs hanging and swinging, and started sucking the lumps of whitish gel up into her mouth one by one.

Lifting her head again, she stuck out her pointy tongue to show him the accumulated mass of semen coated upon it. Then suddenly she frenched him full on his lips, driving her tongue into his mouth. His senses were invaded by the tart, salty taste, but he softened his surprised lips and sucked her extended tongue tenderly until it was all cleaned off.

She drew away and asked "So... what else is there for breakfast?"

"Shit, you are always so full of surprises!"

She smirked.

"Always."

She kissed him again on the mouth, slowly and tenderly, in a way that would stir him to passion were it not for the fact his prick was already wilting and feeling rather sticky.

Then she jumped up, boobs bouncing all over the place, and headed for the bathroom to have a pee. He followed her, and managed to get most of his shaving done before she completely steamed the place up with the hot blast of her shower water.

By the time he emerged she was dressed again in her green party dress and high heels. He just left his towel wrapped around him. They sat at the table for a quick round of cornflakes, toast and instant coffee.

"Can you lend me a twenty for a cab? I need to go home first - can't go to work dressed like this."

"Stay here! Take the day off!"

"I need to keep this job. Unless, of course, you want to pay me on a retainer?"

Unprepared for that one, he tried to deflect it with humour.

"What'd your job title be?"

"Executive Comforter" she replied softly.

It was true. He did feel comforted by her presence. And more than a little empty in her absence. Without further comment he peeled off a bill and passed it over to her.

"Thanks."

She kissed his cheek, slung her bag of tricks over her shoulder, and headed for the front door.

"I'll call you later. We can meet for lunch."

The door closed behind her. The place was silent and empty now.

Why should he notice that, particularly? This is how his apartment typically was every day, now that Hurricane Julie had cleared off and left him to it. Up till now he'd appreciated the stillness and silence as a welcome alternative to the sounds of sharp words and breaking crockery.

Now it seemed there should be more to life than silence, and solitude.

But how much store should he put in her words about being kept on a "retainer"? What exactly did she mean by it? Was she hinting at providing him with meaningful and on-going companionship? Or was she merely an amateur dominatrix about to turn pro?

He pondered this as he suited up for another day of doing battle amongst the thickets of corporate take-overs.

True to her word, she called him at twelve and proposed lunch at one.

"I can't, I have two negotiators arriving for a meeting at one."

"Put them off until three."

"But this deal is big, I have to be th..."

She cut in with a voice that became frosty.

"I do not appreciate you prioritizing a pair of ivy league jerks higher than my own good self. Answer me this question about your meeting — in one year's time, who will give a fuck?"

Initially he bristled, but then on further reflection he took her point. She certainly had a way with words. He mulled it over. Meanwhile, the phone connection seemed to crackle with impatience.

"Okay, one it is. Where?"

She named the food court of a nearby mall, and hung up.

He still smarted slightly at her dictating his workday program like that. On the other hand, she was right. It wasn't going to change the course of history if their deal got done at three rather than at one. Might even be a good negotiating strategy, to keep them dangling another couple of hours.

He found her in the crowded court, at a fake marble table under an equally fake palm tree. She'd already ordered for the both of them — big chunks of Chinese red pork on plain rice with dark-leaf cabbage. He noticed she could handle chopsticks pretty well.

She accepted his peck on the cheek, and continued eating. He started on his. It was a simple meal, but delicious.

Maybe it was a sign of how comfortable they were becoming in each other's company, that they didn't feel any need to speak for the first couple of minutes.

She'd been and done a morning's work of office cleaning, judging by the slacks and smudged t-shirt she had on. Her bust pulled it pretty tight in front, though she appeared to have a sturdy bra on for a change.

She spoke.

"You can come and help me with some shopping in a moment" she informed him.

"Help? How?"

"I need some outfits. My wardrobe is not nearly as extensive as I'd like it to be."

"Oh. And how can I help with that?"

Jingers! He's a bit dense today, she thought.

"Me shop. You pay."

"Ah. Okay."

"It'll help close that economic gap you're so worried about" she explained.

"Right."

"I'm glad that's settled. I'll just go change."

For the first time he noticed her carry bag.

"You change to go shopping for clothes?" he asked.

"So like a man. I suppose you'd stroll into Brooks Brothers wearing oily overalls?"

"I never wear overalls."

She flashed him A Look.

"Well baby, I do."

In five minutes she was back from the Ladies restroom, decked out in a floral-print dress and fashion shoes. It was simple, but looked good on her. As usual, she could convey the impression of being about to fall out of her clothes at any moment.

They strolled off down the rows of shops, stopping in anyplace to do with women's clothes or shoes. She didn't go for cheap stuff, nor did she look at any of the high-end designer labels his ex-wife felt compelled to be seen in. More middle-of-the-road gear, well-made and representing solid value for money.

Some of it was practical, some downright sexy. Like the stretchy boob-tube tops, and the low-slung jeans now in fashion that showed plenty of cute round belly above a waistband that barely covered her pubes. At the back, you could just about post a letter down her butt-crack.

In a department store, she'd sorted through some racks of dresses, some quite showy. Holding about four or five, she headed for a changing room.

"Have a look at these and tell me which you like."

The first two could have been quite smart on her, but were tight across the hips and loose at her waist. The third had a halter top which showed off the glorious brown complexion of her shoulders and back, and a hemline that ended about four inches above her knees. He saw straightaway that she'd taken her bra off. The dress was thin, and hot pink, and her nipples poked out like bullets.