Chapter 1: Suzanne

The door to the building across the street opened from the inside. I sat up and peered through the eyepiece of the telescope, examining the warmly dressed figure descending the steps. It was her. The drab grey overcoat hid the curves of her nubile young body from view, and the wide-brimmed hat she wore shielded her face, but the cascade of blond hair flowing down her back, as well as the youthful spring in her step, gave her away.

I swiveled the telescope to follow her as she walked down the street, trying to figure out where she was going. Up until now, she'd only left the apartment to go to work, either at one of her photo shoots or at one of her temp jobs, or to go shopping. I had her phone tapped, and had kept track of her appointments, so I knew when she went to work. This wasn't one of those times. So it must be shopping. But the stores she went to were in the other direction. So... something else? May be it was a date. It was possible she could have arranged a date with someone without a phone call being involved. Unlikely, but possible.

I kept her in view until she disappeared down a side street three blocks away. I grabbed my coat and hat. Locking the door of the hotel room behind me, I rushed downstairs and out onto the street. Casually but briskly, I walked down to the intersection where she'd disappeared. No sign of her.

I thought for a moment, weighed the odds in my mind, and decided to wait. So I took up a position leaning against a building, watching the side street that my quarry had disappeared down.

Two hours later, after the sun had set and the streetlights had come on, she reappeared, coming out of a bar. She moved a bit less surely than usual, as though she'd had a bit to drink. I followed her at a distance of half a block until she reached her apartment building and re-entered it. Smiling to myself with the satisfaction of a mystery solved, I crossed the street to my hotel.

She began to frequent the bar, going there approximately every other night, always emerging a bit tipsy. I started going to the bar regularly as well, keeping an unobtrusive eye on her. The bar was not one of the upscale yuppie joints, but rather an old neighborhood establishment, catering to older men. As a result, she had to fend off a lot of passes from balding men with expansive waistlines. I found it amusing.

After watching this for four or five nights, establishing my bona fides as a regular patron, I made my move. My eyes were fixed on her as I strode across the room from my regular booth to the bar where she sat. Setting my drink down on the bar, I sat on the stool next to her.

She looked up from her drink, causing her lustrous blond hair to shimmer in the subdued light of the bar. I almost lost my breath as I look at her face. I'd seen it before in pictures, and from a distance, but never up close and in the flesh. She was stunning. I was pleased. Later on, almost any other aspect of the body could be modified, but the face had to be good from the start.

"Hi," she said, a smile creeping across that captivating face. I'm not bad-looking, if I do say so myself, and I was a good bit younger than the average suitor. Her ocean-blue eyes twinkled in the light.

"Hi," I responded. "I'm not very good with pickup lines, so I'll just have to tell you that you're incredibly beautiful."

She laughed a bit. "Thank you. That's very flattering." Modesty, of course; she couldn't possibly think she was anything less than gorgeous.

"I'm Alan."

"Suzanne."

We got off to a pretty good start. She told me she was unemployed at the moment, temping and trying to get some part-time modeling work. I made a few jokes about the sorts of jobs you get from temp agencies, and she laughed and agreed with me. I bought her a drink, casually slipping a pinch of white powder into it. As the conversation progressed, she opened herself up more and more to me.

She had grown up in a small town in Montana. At age eighteen, she'd left to go to college in Michigan, majoring in "media arts." After school, she'd moved to New York City, where she'd worked for about a year as a catalog model for a few local department stores, making a decent living. It was a week-to-week type of existence; she didn't have any contracts, but she'd been getting quite a lot of offers for short jobs. She'd been well on her way to a successful, if not lucrative, modeling career.

Then, all of a sudden, within the space of a couple of weeks, the offers had stopped coming. The photo managers had started telling her that they were looking for someone a bit taller for such-and-such a shoot, or that what they really needed was a brunette, or a redhead, or someone with a more "motherly" look, or whatever. She hadn't had any work for about three months, and was filling in with jobs from temp agencies. What was really depressing, she told me, was that she had no idea why her career had gone belly-up so suddenly.

I had a pretty good idea what it was, myself. I knew quite a lot about her life, in some areas even more than she did. For the past four months, since I'd first laid eyes on her in a sportswear catalog, I'd been keeping a close watch on her. The reason she was having a hard time finding work was that I was bribing the photo managers not to hire her.

Well, strictly speaking, I wasn't bribing them not to hire her. But every time she applied for a job, I anonymously contacted the prospective employer, and pretended to be a relative of one of the other models applying for the job. I told them how I really wanted young Deirdre or Teresa or Holly to be successful, and wouldn't they please hire her if I gave them $1,000 cash? It'd cost a bundle so far, but I could afford it. I looked on it as an investment.

I reassured Suzanne that it was probably just a run of bad luck, something that happens to everyone now and then. She smiled sweetly at that, and thanked me for the support. I bought her another drink, and over the next hour I coaxed even more information out of her. She didn't get along well with her parents; they were extremely conservative and didn't approve of her career choice. She lived alone and had no real friends in the city. She had been in one relationship since college, and she'd broken it off three months ago.

Thanks to the drug I'd been slipping into her drinks all evening, she was now extremely trusting of me. When the bar closed, I suggested we continue the conversation at my place. She hesitated a second before agreeing. I took that as a sign that she didn't usually go home with guys she met in bars, which was probably a smart policy. A girl could run into all sorts of unsavory characters in a place like this. Me, for example.

We continued chatting as we walked to my apartment. Not my real apartment, of course, but one I was renting under an assumed name in a complex that catered to upscale young singles. I didn't want her to know where I really lived, just in case something went wrong.

When we arrived, she remarked on how clean and neat it was. (It was clean and neat mainly because I spent almost no time there.) I showed her to the couch and fixed another pair of drinks; light on the booze this time, because we'd both need plenty of energy for what was coming up. To her drink I added just a dash of a second, different drug.

I brought the drinks over to the couch and sat down. We chatted some more, and gradually our bodies moved closer and closer together. I managed to keep things calm until she'd finished her drink; I wanted to make sure the drug had taken full effect before we went to bed.

Once her glass was empty, I leaned over and kissed her. She responded with a fierce passion that let me know that I'd gotten things right. Making sure to keep control of the pace of things, I moved us from kissing into necking and petting. Her hands were vibrant, running across my chest, back and shoulders while she nibbled greedily on my earlobe. I lightly cupped her breasts and she moaned.

Fifteen minutes after she'd finished her drink (I was stealing glances at the clock on the wall) I began to go further, gradually moving the center of my attention on her body from her breasts down across her stomach. I caressed the insides of her thighs, occasionally coming close to her crotch, but never actually fondling her there. I could tell this was getting her excited.

After about five minutes of this, I got the desired response; she pulled her mouth away from mine and looked at me with flaming eyes. "I need you," she breathed softly.

The drug I'd given her was a rare aphrodisiac that had been commonly used in ancient India to heighten the female sex drive. Two milligrams, taken orally twenty minutes before the beginning of foreplay, was guaranteed to give a woman a mind-blowing orgasm, far beyond what she could ever have achieved unaided. Five milligrams would give such a powerful ride that she would probably come down with some sort of mental damage. For all I knew, ten would probably give her a heart attack. Naturally, it was highly addictive.

The formula had been lost for several millennia, but after three years of expensive on-site research, I had found the recipe. Requiring extracts from several rare plants, it cost a fortune to manufacture. Luckily, I had a fortune available.

I lifted her in my arms and carried her down the hall to the bedroom. Laying her gently down on the bed, I brushed my lips across hers as I unbuttoned her blouse. She was constantly moaning with pleasure now. I undressed quickly and lay down beside her. She quickly stripped her clothes off and embraced me, her crotch thrusting at my erect cock.

I didn't want to do that just yet, since it would still be about fifteen minutes before the drug had its maximum effect. I gently pushed her onto her back. Gently teasing her nipples with my hands, I lowered my mouth to her crotch.

Her pussy was soaked. I nuzzled it with my nose, causing her to tremble. Slowly, ever so slowly, in order to heighten her awareness, I began to tickle her clit with my tongue.

"Mmmmmmm... ohhhhh..."

I gently probed the mouth of her pussy with my tongue, rubbing my upper lip against her clit while I did.

"Ohhhhhh... yeeeesssss..."

Sensing her building orgasm, I withdrew and began kissing her thighs to give her a chance to cool down. After a minute or so of this, I moved my attention back to her pussy. The first touch of my tongue immediately sent her back up.

"Ohhh, God... yes, yes!"

I brought her to the edge of orgasm again, and let her hang there for awhile. This would enhance the experience for her when I finally did allow her to come.

After ten minutes, she was writhing and moaning. "Ohhh... Alan... It's never been like this before... I need you so bad..."

"Shhhhh..." I gently admonished. "It's better this way. Just relax and enjoy it."

After another five minutes, she could barely contain herself. "God, Alan, I need you... I need you now. Pleeeeeeease."

I realized that the time had come. I pulled my body up alongside hers. Kissing her lips, I placed the head of my erect shaft at the entrance to her pussy. Gently, I began to make soft, short strokes into her.

"Mmmm... yeeeessssss..." she moaned.

I gradually increased the pace as well as the depth of my strokes. She was going wild with the sensations. I knew it was like nothing she'd ever felt.

"Ngggghhhh... ohhhhh... ohhh... yesss... harder... harder..."

When I knew the moment was right, I pulled out all the stops and began pumping my hard, eight-inch-long member all the way to the back of her cunt. She was writhing beneath me like a woman possessed.

"Oh, God... yes... yes... YES! YES! YES!"

I felt her orgasm shudder through her body. Her cunt gripped me tight as she screamed in pleasure. The walls of her pussy were like a velvet vise squeezing my shaft. I rode her as hard as I could, while her crotch thrust furiously at my cock.

Her orgasm lasted several minutes. Near the end, my balls boiled over and I began to come. My stick semen filled her cunt to overflowing, and I felt a large amount of jism squeezing out of her pussy around my cock.

We came down together. Her cries subsided, to be replaced by a series of quick gasps as she struggled to catch her breath. I kissed her on the neck. "That was great," I said.

"God, it was fantastic!" she replied. "I've never felt like that before."

I pretended to take it as a compliment. "Thank you." Everything had gone perfectly.

We quickly fell asleep after that. The next morning, I woke up well before Suzanne did, so I surprised her with breakfast in bed. She was delighted. After she'd finished, we made love again, and she had another mind-blowing orgasm, thanks to the secret ingredient in the orange juice. After she'd rested a bit, I told her I had to get to work, and offered to drive her home. She accepted. I got her phone number and gave her the number for my apartment, but told her that I was going to be very busy at work, so I doubted I'd be there much.

I called her the next day and asked for a date. She eagerly agreed. We made plans to go out to dinner at a fairly pricey restaurant. I assured her that I was picking up the tab.

That evening, I showed up at Suzanne's door fifteen minutes early, with a box tucked under my arm. She greeted me at the door with towels wrapped around her hair and torso, obviously having just gotten out of the shower. She ushered me into the living room and showed me to the couch.

"I have as gift for you," I said as I presented the box to her.

"Oh, you shouldn't have," she demurred, setting the box down and opening it up. Her eyes went wide as she looked inside. She reached in and pulled out a black satin party dress that glittered in the light. "Oh, Alan... you can't do this. This is too much."

"I wanted to do it," I replied. "You deserve the best. I was hoping you'd wear it tonight."

"Yes, yes, of course!" Suzanne reached into the box again and pulled out a pair of matching black pumps with five-inch heels. An expression of concern crossed her face as she examined them. She looked up at me questioningly.

"Is something wrong?" I asked innocently.

"No... no," she said, forcing a smile. "I'll just go back and get dressed." With that, she got up and walked down the hall. I smiled to myself. Another small step.

Fifteen minutes later, she emerged, looking breathtakingly beautiful. Her blond hair cascaded over her shoulders, which were bare except for the black straps of the dress. I'd bought the dress half a size too small, so it squeezed her slightly, pushing her breasts up over the front of the dress in an appetizing way. It similarly hugged her thighs and legs, showing off her excellent curves. The effect was amplified by the swing of her hips as she walked on the high heels. She wore a pair of simple earrings and a couple of gold bracelets on one arm.

"You look fantastic," I said. She did.

She blushed. "Thank you, Alan." She came over and kissed me. "Let's go."

We had a pleasant dinner, during which we discussed the weather, current events, movies, and her career. I steered the conversation away from myself. She trusted me implicitly now, and was very open with me; I didn't need to rely on a drug for that anymore.