Preparation for the state titles
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Working Title
By Cherysse St. Claire
© 2004
As Max's parties went, this was pretty much the usual. He calls
them "Meet and Greets". I call them "Novocaines". Of course, I would
never tell Max that. It's just that they have this irritating tendency
to deaden all my senses. My current lover has his own public
relations firm with an A-list cast of corporate and entertainment
industry clients. As Max's 'hostess', I rub elbows with some of the
heaviest hitters in both genres and listen intently to stories about
this deal or that project. Mind you, I am not entirely UNINTERESTED
in what they have to say. Every once in a while, I pick up a tidbit that
will do my own career in the entertainment industry some good. All
of Max's guests are familiar with my work, of course - even if the
mainstream does not embrace my particular 'niche'. I bet there are
more of MY DVDs in bedrooms across America than any of the
A-listers.
I had been through good times and bad. Once, I had been a
successful computer networking engineer with a thriving business.
That business had evaporated even as my marriage had. In fact, it
was because of the events that occurred towards the end of that
union that both my career and the marriage itself had foundered. I
had to scramble then, do things I wouldn't have dreamt of doing
before, just to keep a roof over my head and food in my mouth.
Max had come into my life about that time. At first, he was a
'date' like the others - but there the resemblance ended. True, he
isn't exactly an All-American stud. I'm used to that in my line of
work. Still, he is an attractive man, generous of spirit, an
understanding and compassionate lover and all-around nice guy -
not to mention being filthy rich. And, he wanted ME on more than
just a random basis. He was exactly the person I needed at the time.
I snatched him up before one of the other girls could sink her claws
into him and have never looked back. He was and continues to be
good to me and I reciprocate in full measure.
So, if I tend to be a little 'overdone' for Max's parties - the
little next-to-nothing of a dress that reveals, rather than conceals,
the stockings, sky-high heels, makeup, hair, and ultra-long siren's
nails right out of one of my videos - who is to complain? Not me,
certainly, or Max. His regular 'cast of characters' take it well, too.
In fact, almost every one of them has taken it quite well - and
dished it out, too.
I spied Gayle across the crowded room. She was putting the moves
on what I imagined to be her Flavor of the Month. Actually, he was
really good-looking. It was inevitable Gayle would eventually show
up at one of Max's parties. The two of them were in the same line of
work - as competitors. That wouldn't keep her off Max's guest list.
He doesn't hold grudges; with his annual billings, he doesn't need
to.
I was blonder now than the last time she had seen me. My lips were
fuller and plusher, my nose smaller and turned up, my cheekbones
much more prominent. My tits and ass were fuller, too; a LOT fuller.
Still, I could tell she recognized me immediately. There was a
mixture of emotions in her expression, but shock shown most
clearly. I merely smiled demurely and continued the conversation I
was in, making no attempt to approach her.
Sometime later, between conversations, I sensed her behind me
before she said a word. I would know that perfume anywhere.
"Hello Gayle," I cooed, then turned around to face her. "So lovely to
see you again after all this time."
"Hello Len," she replied haltingly. "May we... talk?"
"It's Leanne now, Leanne Lewis. You know that. You named me. Or
should
I say, you RE-named me?"
"Sorry... Leanne. I - I have a couple of your DVDs. You are really
something else."
"My bank account thanks you and so do I," I purred.
"I just wanted to say you look... REALLY GOOD."
"Thank you again," I replied sincerely. "I FEEL good about myself,
too. Better than I have felt in a long time."
"How do you know Max?", she inquired. I told her the truth - mostly.
"Oh, he's a fan. He invites me to these little soirees to act as
'hostess'. He has been helping me out in my career for almost a
year."
"Almost a year," Gayle repeated thoughtfully. "A couple of months
after you left.... When you walked out, disappeared like that, I was...
worried about you. I was afraid something had happened to you."
I stepped closer to her and lowered my voice, making sure only she
would be able to hear my words. I summoned up every once of
venom I had been storing up for the last fourteen months.
"Now listen up, Bitch. Something DID happen to me. YOU happened
to me. Your affair with - what was his name? Craig? - happened to
me. Your subsequent guilt trip, which caused you to transform me
into 'Leanne', happened to me. I went through that transformation
so willingly because I thought you wanted that for US, to bring us
closer together."
"I DID want to bring us closer together," she pleaded.
"Don't even TRY to lay that lame claim on me," I retorted. "If it had
been about 'us', 'us' would have been consulted about Craig. 'Us'
would have had some input on your little peccadillo. 'Us' would have
been treated like a human being, instead of first, a cuckold, then a
Barbie Doll.
"You SAY it was about 'us', but in reality it was about YOU wanting
me to understand a woman's desires first-hand, so I wouldn't be
mad about YOU shacking up with Craig. It was about how good
Craig's cock felt in YOUR CUNT, and how you wanted to revise OUR
marriage vows to make YOU feel better about breaking them. It was
about YOU assuming if I became a woman, I would feel the same
way you did about needing 'stud service'."
"You didn't have to LEAVE," Gayle countered. "We could have worked
it out."
"Says YOU!" I parried. "I loved you. I trusted you. You betrayed both.
If our roles had been reversed, YOU would have been out the door
like a speeding bullet, just as I was. You know why? WOMEN don't
like to be betrayed, either! I hope your little indiscretion is good for
you, Sweetheart. All it cost was OUR marriage and MY manhood -
factors that obviously didn't weigh heavily on YOUR mind at the
time."
"I never wanted to hurt you," she whispered beseechingly.
"Oh, please, I sneered, "do not lay THAT crap on me, either. How
could you think what you did would NOT hurt me? I don't mean the
physical discomfort of the transformation. I mean finding out that
the reasons you gave for it were nothing but LIES. Answer: you were
thinking with your 'little head', just like women accuse men of
doing. Except it wasn't ME doing the cheating, was it? In fact, I
NEVER DID. The sad part is, if you HAD trusted me enough to tell
me, I probably would have gone along with it. I loved you that much
- and, to be honest, it might have seemed really kinky even without
all this."
I backed off on the venom, having, at long last, gotten it out of my
system.
"For the record, 'all this' isn't so bad. In fact, I'm really enjoying
it. Anyway, here we are. That is all water under the bridge. By the
way, I couldn't help but notice Craig isn't with you tonight. He
wasn't... AVAILABLE?"
She cast her eyes downward.
"We don't see each other anymore. He has other...."
It didn't take a rocket scientist to finish THAT sentence.
"My, my, what a surprise," I mocked. "You had your little 'fling' that
cost us everything. I'll bet you were shocked to discover that is all
Craig wanted it to be - a fling. Did you find it liberating to be
'suddenly single' - and completely alone?"
Feeling the need to drop the subject entirely, I nodded my head in
the
direction of where she had been standing.
"So, who's the new beefcake?"
Gayle's face brightened at that.
"His name is Tom Stoddard. His company just acquired a huge new
defense
contract and he feels they need a new public image. This account
could
mean millions in billings. I have a lot riding on landing him."
"Yes, I'm CERTAIN you want to 'land' him. Well, congratulations on
getting him to attend the party with you."
I picked up on the note of hesitation in her eyes immediately.
"So, he isn't... WITH you," I surmised. "He just happens to be here
because... Max is ALSO courting him?"
Gayle's face flushed.
"Please don't tell anyone, especially Max. I HAVE to get this account.
If I don't, the company, our house...."
YOUR house, I wanted to correct her. You got it in the settlement
after you charged ME with "Abandonment". Instead, I placed my
hand softly on her cheek.
"Gayle honey, don't you worry about a thing. I won't tell a SOUL. You
just go and have a good time. We'll chalk this one up to old time's
sake."
*********************************************************************
"So, you are Leanne Lewis. May I say I am a big fan of yours?"
The baritone voice announced his presence behind me. I turned to
look... up, even perched as I was on my skyscraper stilettos. He WAS
an impressive hunk of beefcake. The bulge in his pants leg was even
more impressive.
"Yes, I can see that. A VERY big fan, by the look of things. And you
would be...?"
"Tom Stoddard, of Stoddard Aerospace Systems. Max told me I
should come over and introduce myself. I'm surprised he didn't do it
himself. If you were MY girl, I would keep a closer eye on you."
I smiled my thousand-watt smile, winked, slipped my arm through
his and pulled his body tightly next to mine.
"If I were YOUR girl, you wouldn't have to. Walk with me, Tom
Stoddard of Stoddard Aerospace Systems. So, what brings you to
Max's party?"
"Oh, the usual. I need to give my company a P.R. 'facelift', now that
we're in The Game with the Big Boys. 'It takes money to make
money,' and all that. Max invited me over to discuss his proposal.
Funny, he hasn't said word one about it. Instead, I've been hit on all
night by this woman from a competing firm. She has been really
persistent about it, too. I had to find some way to ditch her to come
introduce myself to you. I hope she doesn't wait too long for me to
bring that next round of drinks."
I giggled at that and pressed the side of my face into his rock-solid
bicep.
"May I offer my personal thanks for YOUR persistence? It seems to
me there must be SOMETHING I can do to express my appreciation."
I casually raked his arm with my crimson talons. The sudden pulse
in the fabric of his pants leg told me what 'something' he had in
mind, which was fine with me. For the moment, Tom chose a less
direct tactic.
"Max tells me you are working on a new project. Does it have a title
yet?"
I giggled again and squeezed his hand.
"Bless his heart, Max DOES wax enthusiastic about my little
cinematic endeavors. As a matter of fact, I AM working on a new
project. It has only a working title so far: 'Leanne Does Defense'."
It's gonna be a tribute to the 'Arsenal of Democracy' - those proud
men and women who labor so... HARD to create the... WEAPONS that
keep America strong and free."
Tom grinned.
"That sounds very... patriotic."
I smiled coyly and squeezed his inner thigh with my free hand.
"Oh, Honey, it is Mom, Apple Pie, and the Fourth of July, all rolled
into one. It gives me chills just thinking about getting into it - or,
should I say IT getting into ME."
By that time, we had reached the door of the bedroom Max has me
use for 'entertaining'. I had left the door slightly ajar. I deftly
unzipped Tom's pants and eased him out of his cloth prison. I am
generally pretty adept at not putting my foot in my mouth. Someone
else's FOOT-LONG is another proposition altogether. I pushed the
dooropen with my full, rounded tush while dragging Tom in with me
by his turgid tool.
I was kneeling before him in seconds, slipping his belt and
unhooking the final fastener on his pants. They were at his ankles in
a flash, followed by his briefs (I hate boxers; I was liking this guy
more and more all the time). I started with one long, languid,
leisurely lick the length of his love lever, from his bull balls all
the way to the tip. No lollipop ever crafted by Man could ever hope
to equal the appeal of THIS confection. I traced little arcs around his
shaft with my double-pierced tongue. The twin barbells caused him
to shiver as they caressed his sensitive skin. At the same time, the
talons of my right hand was lightly caressing his supersized ball
sack.
After a goodly number of minutes of this exquisite torture, I
positioned my parted lips at the helmet of his magnificent member,
sighed, and impaled my mouth on his shaft. His rigid rod snaked
down my throat like a huge boa, writhing in ecstasy inside my oral
passage. I gazed up into his eyes so adoringly, even as my nose
nested in his wiry pubic patch. He tasted SO GOOD and I was SO
HORNY!
Tom obliged me by peeling down the bustier top of my stretch
Spandex microdress and flicking my nipple rings. Each time he did,
he sent a jolt through my rock-hard nipples, into my big, bouncy
breasts, down my spine and right to my pussy. While I massaged his
bull balls with my right hand, I flicked my clitoral ring with my left. I
felt his scrotal sac tighten and his helmet and shaft swell even as
my own little earthquake rumbled to life deep within me. My passion
erupted as his gushed down my throat and into my tummy.
I was nowhere near done with this marvelous mass of manflesh, nor
he with me. He scooped me up as if I were a mere playtoy and flung
me onto the bed. I'm certain it was his intention to climb on top of
me and grind me into the mattress, but I had other ideas. I
maneuvered him on his back with his head towards the foot of the
bed. His magnificent steed stood straight up, daring me to climb
into the saddle. I accepted the challenge with alacrity, stuffing the
stallion in my snatch with a sigh. I sank down, and down, and
DOWN. The surgeon had promised me I would be able to
accommodate twelve inches. At long last, it was time
to put his vow to the test.
One of the reasons Max adores having me around is his professed
love for "screamers". I mentally vowed to dedicate this 'song' to
everyone in a six-block radius, then set out to make that vow a
reality.
"OhmydearsweetfuckingJesusMaryandJosephthiswonderfulinsatiable
hunkofafuckingmachineisgonnablowmyfuckingbrainsrightthrough
thetopofmyfuckingskullandIamfuckingLOVINGIT!!!!"
The very air around me vibrated with the force of my shrieks and
moans. The danglies of the crystal chandelier in the high-vaulted
ceiling tinkled ominously as my Richter-scale vocalizations
assaulted them.
I had positioned Tom on the bed very carefully, facing away from
the door. I hadn't known how he would have felt about having an
audience and didn't want to spoil the moment for him. These
salacious little tete-a-tete's were a high point of Max's parties and
all of Max's regular guests relished them. For that matter, most had
participated at one time or another.
They were gathered in the doorway now, sipping their drinks and
silently ogling while Tom and I did the nastiest of 'nasties' it had
ever been my pleasure to enjoy. Max was there, of course, grinning
evilly from ear to ear. Max loved to watch, always had. I, in turn,
adored putting on a show for him. Next to Max, mouth agape, was a
very stunned Gayle. I am not really certain what had astonished her
most: that I had stolen her 'hot prospect' (yeah, Baby, was he EVER!)
out from under her, the sheer magnitude of Tom's magnificent
member, or that I was able to accommodate every luscious inch so
easily. I stared directly into her eyes, grinning like an idiot and
screaming my head off, while her hoped-for 'meal ticket' fucked me
stupid.
When he came, I thought he was going to blow me right to Mars.
The sheer force of his repeated explosions made me hang on for
dear life.
That did it for ME, as well. My eyes rolled up into my head and I
emitted one last, lingering shriek that started low and climbed
steadily in pitch and intensity, until it shook the walls and cracked
the vanity table's mirror. My whole body spasmed violently, melding
seamlessly into Tom's own convulsions.
By the time I came to my senses, the crowd had already begun to
silently disperse. Max remained, grinning as I had a few short
moments before. We both knew Tom's signature on the contract was
a mere formality at this point; the 'deal' was done. Max had spared
no expense transforming me into his ultimate 'closer'. For my part, I
had never disappointed him. It wouldn't occur to me to do so. Gayle
was nowhere to be seen. I suspected she had had a 'hot date' of her
own - to go apartment hunting.
Chalk this one up to old time's sake, Sweetheart. Choke on it!
THE END
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