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To Zara’s relief, he seemed far from appalled by her confession.
‘I want details. Come on, you can tell me all about it in the car.’
Once they were out of public hearing, she slowly divulged the basic facts: that she sneaked up to the deserted ladies’ room and pretended she was giving a sex show to her co-workers while she masturbated. She did not, however, mention the disembodied male voices or Paul’s own enthusiastic participation in the depravity. She was so caught up in her story, she didn’t notice he was driving them to her office until they’d parked in front of the building. She knew Paul well enough to guess what he had in mind.
‘What if we get caught?’ she asked helplessly.
‘It’s a Saturday,’ he insisted. ‘No one will be there. If they are, you can say you stopped in to pick up some work. You’re well known for your dedication to the company.’
Part of her wanted to refuse, but the tingling between her legs told her that she’d regret it.
‘OK, I’ll give you a peek at the scene of the crime, but that’s all.’
Paul gave her a ‘we’ll see’ smile and jumped out of the car.
He suggested they take the stairs, for authenticity’s sake, so Zara was properly flushed and breathless when they reached her secret room. She glanced quickly up and down the hall, opened the door and pulled him inside.
‘OK, you’ve seen it, now let’s go.’
Paul’s gaze caressed the forbidden surroundings, his eyes flickering. ‘What’s the hurry? Now exactly where do you put on your show? Facing the sink or the full-length mirror?’
‘The full-length, of course,’ she murmured. ‘I’ll give you a demonstration back at your place. We should get out of here now.’
Instead Paul put his hand to the small of her back and guided her over to face the mirror. He stood behind her. The bulge in his pants pressed lightly against her buttocks.
‘So, you stand here like this and then what do you do?’
‘Paul, please.’ In spite of herself, Zara’s knickers grew damp. Her breasts felt heavy and achy, desperate to be touched. Her body was so accustomed to the erotic indulgence that took place before this mirror, it was more than happy to go along with her lover’s designs.
‘Show me, Zara. Please.’
His voice was sweet and full of need, yet it was the edge of command that made her squirm back against him.
‘No one will see you but me.’
Her final protest died in her throat. For after all, wasn’t he giving her exactly what she’d dreamed of during those stolen interludes: to be seen and desired by an appreciative male in the flesh?
She began to unbutton her blouse with trembling hands. Paul let out a soft sigh of victory. Her bra unhooked from behind today, but she managed that by pushing down the sagging bra cups so her pink nipples peeped over the top.
She paused. She’d touched herself in his presence before, but only under the blankets, in low light. She’d never been so exposed. The pure exhibitionism of it made her light-headed.
‘You’re so beautiful, Zara. Please, do it. Do it for me.’
His words melted any lingering resistance. She cradled her breasts and pushed them up as if in offering to him. In the mirror he made a quick motion, as if he wanted to fondle her himself, but then thought better of it.
She took the stiff nipples between her fingers, rolling and tweaking the way she liked best.
‘Oh, God, that’s so fucking hot,’ Paul breathed. Then she saw him shake his head. ‘Sorry, sorry. I’ll try to stay quiet and just watch.’
‘No, please. I like it when they talk.’
‘“They?”’
What had she said? But Zara was beyond shame now.
‘The men watching. In the mirror. They say rude things to me. But I like it very much.’
Paul’s lips lifted in a knowing smile. ‘Do you? You like it when a man admits he’s got the hardest wood of his life watching you play with your naked tits in the ladies’ room when you should be downstairs doing an honest day’s work?’
Zara’s body jerked. Her knickers flooded with a gush of juices. He’d got it just right.
‘Well, do you?’ he pressed.
‘Yes, oh, God, yes.’
‘What else do you like to do, you trollop?’
‘I … I like to pull down my pants and touch myself while they watch.’ Zara stammered out the words, but she found, to her surprise, that the sound of her own voice saying naughty things aroused her as much as him.
‘I most definitely would like to see that little show. In fact, I’ve been imagining this since the day we met. I sat there in that meeting wondering what you’d look like with your shirt open and your pants pulled down. Sweating and squirming and begging for my prick. Is that what you want? Do you want me to fuck you here in your little self-love nest?’
Zara let out a moan of assent.
‘But first you should get yourself nice and wet. Take down your pants like a good girl and show me what you do when you’re alone. Not with that toy though. I want to see you get your fingers dirty.’
She fumbled with her belt and pushed her jeans and knickers down so her trimmed triangle of pubic hair was revealed. She jammed her hand between her legs and began to strum. He watched until her knees were wobbling and each breath was a groan.
‘Well done. I’m very impressed with your work, Zara, but I have to say I’m disappointed to hear you do your naughty business all on your own when every man in this company would be very motivated by this presentation.’
Zara let out a soft ‘oh’ of shame and desire. He pressed into her from behind and brought his hands around to cup her breasts. Flicking the nipples devilishly, he hissed in her ear, ‘Are you ready for my cock now, love? Do those men in the mirror put their cocks inside you, one after the other, as you lie back on the conference table?’
‘No,’ she admitted, her eyes fixed on his large hands squeezing her breasts with practised skill. ‘I promise them they can have me after I come, but then I do something very bad. I leave them trapped in there with their hard cocks still aching in their pants.’
‘Aren’t you the little cocktease? Well, that’s not going to happen today, is it? I know just how to give you what you deserve. I’m going to lie down on that couch and you’re going to ride me like a cowgirl. Take off all your clothes now and get a condom out of your purse. Be quick. Every boss likes an employee who takes directions well.’
Zara was all too happy to follow his instructions. Paul pushed his jeans down to his thighs and stretched out on the couch, looking rather lordly. He watched coolly as she sheathed him, but couldn’t restrain a moan when she sank down onto his tool.
‘Watch yourself,’ he whispered. ‘Watch yourself get what’s coming to you after teasing all of those poor men with your naughty show.’
Zara ground her clit into him, her eyes dutifully fixed on her own nude body. The sight gave her a secret thrill. She might look more vulnerable than he did, all dressed and proper as he was, but she knew she held the real power within her naked, radiant flesh. She bucked and whimpered as the sensations intensified in her pussy. Her skin shimmered with a thin film of sweat. She could tell Paul was close, too. Could he hold out for her? She clutched him with her secret muscles, willing herself to finish first.
Then, as if he’d pushed himself inside her head as well as her body, he barked out another order. ‘Be quick about it now, Zara. You have to be at a meeting in fifteen minutes.’
It was the perfect touch.
She cried out and rammed herself onto him as the orgasm ripped up through her torso. Bucking and sobbing, she milked him until her contractions faded. Then he began to thrust, up and up into her. She tightened her thighs around him, really riding him like a cowgirl at a rodeo. He grunted like an animal as he emptied himself into her. She watched that in the mirror, too.
She had to admit Paul, too, looked especially radiant after a good orgasm.
Afterwards, they lay together on the couch idly admiring their own reflections.
‘Now I know why you enchant every man in the room. You’re standing up there all smug and satisfied, still wet and swollen in your knickers, while you lecture us on marketing strategy. On some level we know it, and we’re transfixed by every word.’
‘Perhaps you might suggest my approach as a model the next time you tell some poor CEO how to improve morale,’ she teased.
‘First I’m going to have to study your methods further. Do promise you’ll invite me back here some time. For professional observation, of course.’
Zara flashed them both a secret smile in the mirror.
That was an action item she was sure to follow up on.
Lather. Rinse. Repeat.
Lolita Lopez
It was all that scratching and tugging that got me so hot. I kept my eyes closed as Blake shampooed my hair. Her perfectly manicured nails scratched my scalp, setting the skin alight with tingles as she swirled her fingertips through my foamy hair. The scent of the ultra-expensive vegan shampoo, a heady mix of peppermint and the woodsy musk of cedar, filled my nose and relaxed me. The soft lavender notes of her perfume complemented the shampoo and left me wanting to inhale more deeply.
As she leaned across me to better reach the back of my head, her small breasts brushed against mine. My eyes flicked open, and I was greeted with the enticing view of her cleavage. I recognised the hot pink push-up bra because I had one just like it in my lingerie drawer at home, albeit in a much larger cup size. The front of Blake’s V-neck T-shirt gaped as she continued to scrub my hair. The jiggling flesh right before my eyes left me feeling dizzy and hot. I wondered what it would be like to drag my tongue over the swell of her breast. Would she purr with delight? God, I hoped so.
I found my reaction to Blake a bit puzzling. In twenty-nine years, I’d never been this attracted to another woman. Oh, I’d noticed beautiful women and sometimes found my gaze lingering on the athletic types who’d shared my dorm in freshman and sophomore years of college, but I’d never felt like this. She’d stolen my breath away the first moment I’d clapped eyes on her nearly three months earlier. She’d been standing behind the reception desk, just laughing and gossiping away as I’d approached to check in for my usual salon appointment. I’d nearly tripped over my feet. She looked like some kind of spunky little pixie with her white-blonde close-cropped hair and bright smile. As she beamed at me, I’d experienced the strangest frisson of white-hot delight rushing through my belly.
She was different. She affected me so much more than any other person, male or female, ever had. I couldn’t stop thinking of her between visits to the salon. She invaded my dreams and tortured me in my naughtiest fantasies. I wanted her so badly but didn’t know how to tell her. I was so out of my league on this one. It was one thing to make a move on a man. I’d been doing that for ages and knew how to play that game. But going after Blake? I didn’t even know where to start.
‘You seem tense today,’ Blake murmured as she worked her nimble fingers through the rich lather coating my locks. She smiled down at me, and my heart melted. ‘You should book one of Diana’s massages. She’s fabulous!’
‘Maybe,’ I said, my gaze fixed on her smiling mouth. I started to have all sorts of deliciously dirty thoughts that were wholly inappropriate for the salon setting.
‘Am I doing your eyebrows today?’ Her fingers left my hair, and a second later I heard the spurt of water hitting the basin as she prepared to rinse my hair.
‘Yes.’
‘Just the eyebrows?’ She gave me a pointed look. ‘I can fit you in if you’d like to take off a little more than that.’
I squirmed when I realised what she was asking. ‘I’m not so sure about doing anything down south.’
She smiled sweetly. ‘I’m very gentle.’
Oh, I had no doubt. As she rinsed my sudsy hair, I considered my options. I’d been interested in a Brazilian for a while now, but I’d never been able to work up the courage to book one. I mean, having my eyebrows waxed left me teary and blotchy. Having that waxed? I’d probably pass out or scream like a baby.
But as Blake’s skilful hands worked conditioner into my hair, I started to wonder what it would feel like to have her hands on me. That was an incredibly intimate procedure. I’d be laid bare to her and completely vulnerable. Just the thought of her soft hands manipulating my flesh left me breathless. How could I survive the real thing?
Blake’s fingers massaged the back of my neck as she waited for the conditioner to soak in thoroughly. ‘So what do you think?’
‘I don’t know,’ I admitted nervously. ‘I’m not a huge fan of pain.’
She grinned mischievously as she kneaded my neck. ‘I know a really good way to make you forget about the pain.’
My belly wobbled as her insinuation hit home. Electric zings arced across my chest. My nipples drew tight as visions of Blake’s fingers and mouth between my thighs danced before my eyes. Was I really considering putting myself through the hell of a Brazilian wax for the chance to share an illicit tryst with her? Yes. Yes, I totally was considering just that.
Swallowing hard, I met her unwavering gaze and nodded. ‘All right.’
She smiled triumphantly. ‘Great.’
I vibrated with anxiety and excitement as Blake finished my shampoo and conditioning and wound my hair tight in a towel. She grasped my hand and helped me sit up in the squishy vinyl chair. My gaze fell to our interlaced fingers. She sported an electric-blue manicure that looked so playful and flirty compared to my rather staid French tips. We reluctantly parted hands as I stood and put my hand to the damp towel wrapped around my wet hair.
She gestured to my stylist’s station. ‘After you get your hair done, I’ll find you and take you to one of the private rooms in the back.’
‘OK.’ My wild emotions settled down a bit as I headed over to my stylist’s open chair. Candie draped a cape across my front and fastened it at the nape of my neck. As she unwound the towel and wiggled her fingers through my hair, we discussed how much I wanted trimmed and whether or not I wanted a blow dry and straightening. Once that was settled, she got to work and struck up a conversation with me.
I tried to pay attention, but I kept catching glimpses of Blake in the mirror as she dealt with other clients at the busy upscale salon and spa. We exchanged knowing smiles that sent swarms of butterflies racing through my belly. The quick trim and style was the longest thirty minutes of my life. I wanted out of that chair and into one of those private rooms at the back of the salon. Oh, sure, there was going to be pain, but there was also going to be a lot of pleasure.
And I really wanted to get to the pleasure part.
As Candie whipped free the cape, Blake casually joined us. I tried to keep my excitement in check as the three of us chatted about my hair. The taut string of sexual tension between Blake and me kept pulling us closer and closer together until our arms were brushing. Every tiny contact sent shivers down my spine. God, I couldn’t wait a moment longer. I needed to touch her.
She seemed to sense my need and gave a little wave of her hand. ‘Come on. I’ll get us set up in one of the private rooms.’
Relieved, I shot a quick smile at Candie before pivoting on my heel and trailing Blake to the back of the salon. My gaze shifted to the playful cut of her hot-pink ruffled skirt. It made the black salon T-shirt she wore pop. The sexy swing of her hips enthralled me. I tried not to openly ogle her derrière as we passed by the row of occupied chairs and sinks at the shampoo station, but it was so damn hard to drag away my gaze.
I practically vibrated with anticipation as we neared our room. The knowledge that something awfully naughty and totally against the rules was about to happen left me weak in the knees. My pussy actually pulsed as my clit throbbed and that first slick of arousal seeped from my core. My breasts ached. My nipples begged for attention. I was suddenly very glad of the moulded cups of my bra that hid those stiff peaks. At least they allowed me to maintain an outward semblance of modesty.
I slipped by Blake and into the room she indicated. She flipped the ‘occupied’ sign on the door. My gut clenched as I heard the telltale snick of the door locking behind us. She leaned back against it and stared at me. I clasped my hands together in front of me and chewed my lower lip. She unsettled me. I was used to being the aggressor in my relationships, but I had the distinct feeling Blake wanted that role.
And I liked it. I found the idea of deferring to her rather intoxicating.
‘Why don’t you go behind the curtain there and change.’ She pointed to a screened-off area in the corner of the room. ‘There are paper undies in the drawers marked by size, and some sheets. Just wrap one around your waist and come back to the table.’
My gaze moved to the paper-covered table and the counter covered in waxing supplies. My bravery started to diminish as I spotted the cloth strips and wooden sticks. Then I remembered Blake’s offer to make the pain go away. That put a little spring in my step as I headed for the curtain. I made quick work of toeing off my pumps and peeling out of my cuffed trousers and simple panties. I felt a bit ridiculous as I emerged from behind the curtain wearing the paper undies with a sheet wrapped around my waist. Not exactly the sexiest of looks.
I slid onto the table and reclined against the padded top. As I rearranged the sheet across my thighs and lower belly, Blake moved into view and smiled down at me. She’d wheeled over a cart holding pots of hot wax, little spreader sticks and various sizes of cloth strips. She picked up a bottle of lavender-coloured liquid and soaked a cotton ball. Wordlessly, she swept the primer over my eyebrows to prepare my skin for the wax.
My fingers curled into fists at my sides as the hot wax smeared across my skin. This part I could handle. It wasn’t until her fingers started to smooth the strip of cloth that the dreadful panicky sensation invaded my belly. I tried not to hyperventilate as I anticipated the rip and sting of the first bit of cloth being lifted quickly from my skin.
A soft yelp escaped my lips as the cotton whooshed free of my skin. I’d been waxing and plucking my eyebrows for the better part of twelve years, and I still couldn’t get a grip on the pain. Thankfully, Blake worked fast and efficiently as she shaped my eyebrows.
Try as I might, I couldn’t enjoy the feel of her hands on me. My excitement deflated as I realised that, although this illicit tryst we’d planned with secret looks and a bit of innuendo sounded like it would be hot, hot, hot, it was probably going to be torture for me.
‘Maybe we won’t do the Brazilian today,’ Blake remarked as she smoothed the cooling gel across my abused eyebrows with a clean cotton ball. Her fingertips caressed my cheek. ‘It’s not for everyone.’
I glanced up at her and caught her amused smile. ‘How can you tell?’
‘Well –’ she set aside the cotton ball and stroked my upper arms ‘– you’ve ripped the paper under your hands to shreds, and your knees are shaking under that sheet.’
‘Oh,’ I said a bit sheepishly. I consciously stilled my knocking knees and stretched out my curled-up fingers. ‘Yeah,’ I replied with a heavy, resigned sigh, ‘maybe you’re right. No Brazilian today.’ I frowned apologetically. ‘I’m sorry.’
She looked surprised. ‘For?’
‘Killing the mood,’ I explained.
