No One Will Listen. A tale of truth or fiction?

By: Tilly Rivers, © Copyright protected, 2004, all rights reserved.

I sat across from him and waited while he just looked at me. His eyes held a connotation that I wanted to decipher, what was it he was trying to tell me with his eyes?

“You’re very beautiful.”

Not what I was expecting. Not the reason I was there. He had contacted me, not the other way around; told me he wanted to tell me his story- wanted me to write it without using his name, I was intrigued, but was I foolish?-Was this just a way to meet me? Was I crazy, meeting a stranger in a coffee shop? A stranger that told me he sold his body for money and wanted to tell the truth about what it was like to be a male in the sex-for-sale game.

“Thank you.” I replied and he smiled, I noticed his voice was very monotone, he was stating a fact about my beauty, much like one would discuss the weather.

His laughter was full. “You think I am hitting on you?” his smile widened, and there was a light in his eyes for the first time in the past twenty minutes that we had sat in mostly silence. If you pay attention, you often learn more from the silence of another if you’re patient and don’t give into a natural instinct to fill the void with the sound of your own voice. Not today though, I had more questions, and no answers.

“It had crossed my mind.” I’ve always been one to speak the truth, in my line of work to tell lies had serious consequences, the truth, even if the other party didn’t like it, was always the safest option. “Are you?”

“No.” His voice was just above a whisper; however it caught my attention as if he screamed it across the room. There was a wishful note that captured me. Did he think that he had no right to flirt like the rest of the world does?

He looked at the light brown liquid in his cup, I never understood the need to add copious amounts of cream and sugar to your coffee, I always preferred mine straight up. I watched him watching his coffee much like a fortune teller reading tea-leaves analyzed the contents, and waited.

“Most of us do not remember how it started. The beginning is not what matters; it is the end that counts.”

“What is the end?”

“Right now. This very second the end continues. Sitting here with you and seeing beauty knowing you can never be part of it.”

“Why can’t you be part of it?”

“Do you know why I picked you to write my story? I’ve read your work and I can feel your passion. Passion has always eluded me, like a fairy tale or a myth, passion and love, they are like Santa Claus to me they don’t really exist. When you sell your body on the streets in order to survive you become numb to anything that resembles reality, you want to believe, you pretend, and some still carry hope, but the harsh truth always wins. You have never been touched by that kind of dark reality.” He looked up at me than, with those intense eyes of his and continued speaking in a hushed voice so I had to lean in to hear him.

“If I was to hazard a guess I’d say that when you share your body, your partner’s walk away not knowing what had just hit them…they haven’t a clue that they have been just touched with the pure essence of passion. Yet I am betting that they keep coming back…fight to keep coming back…and do not have a clue why…only that they have to touch you…touch the heat…one more time.”

“That is very flattering, but we aren’t here to talk about my sex life.”

“Do your partners wear a condom when you have shared your passion my dear?” He did not wait for my answer “Society pushes condoms; they are after all the miracle cure to all STD’s right? They protect you from AIDS, the magic cape that makes you superman. Untouchable.”

“Against condoms?”

“Hell no! But I am against men and women not understanding that a condom will not protect you unconditionally. I am against society and the media filling our brains with the notion that buying a condom will make all your worries go away.”

“Most people realize that the only true protection is abstinence.”

He grinned “Do you abstain? Come on. Sex is as much a part of our nature as breathing and eating…more so.”

I could hardly argue with the truth. “You weren’t your average Gigolo though. You catered to high society.”

“Gigolo, cute phrase don’t you think? Makes you think of a life filled with glamour. I mean women in the sex trade are called  prostitutes and hookers, and men get a cute upscale phrase like gigolo or escort. What I was sweetheart was a man…just a man…who cared so little about himself that he was willing to fuck anyone who could pay.”

I ignored the ‘sweetheart’ comment “Some have chosen this life-style and the money it brings them. Society has come to accept it more and more, some States have any legalized the sex trade.”

“You truly think that the sex trade is a chosen career path? Most were sexually abused and rationalize their actions with fucking bullshit like at least this way I have the power over my body and who touches me.”

“Men and women?”

“For me, yes. Older men. Young boys, who were experimenting, closet Gay men…as long as they had the money; men paid more, especially professional men leading a double life. As for the women, Cops wives, lawyer’s wives, wives of upscale professional men who are so fucking stupid that while he was banging his mistress he had no idea that his woman was buying me my new car with fuck money. Are they really so stupid to think they are pulling one over their wife or girlfriend? She knows, she just doesn’t give a shit anymore, she knows the relationship is about paying the bills and finds her happiness elsewhere, just like he does. The funny part? The men are so blind that they have no idea that they are being played, they think the little woman is happy at home.”

“Did you always wear a condom?”

“No. If my client asked me to ride him or her bare back, I did. For an extra fee of course.”
He paused ever so slightly before continuing “We are after all invincible right? It could not happen to me…AIDS, HIV; they are for other people right? I mean it is not like they did not know what I was, they were paying me for fuck’s sake, but somehow, some magic indestructible way it would be okay, and we are above disease.”

“Are you HIV positive? Have you infected one of your clients?”

“Client…how politically correct of you. Clients are for Investment Bankers. I did not start in this racket as a high class gigolo. I doubt anyone does. The illusion. The top of the line clothes, best apartment, best, fastest cars, drugs…. All window dressing. I began on the streets, a fuck for sale so I could eat, so I could sleep in a bed that night…it is the way we all begin.”

“How did you get on the streets?”

“Know one wants to listen…ever noticed that? The youth of our society, they do not need to listen…we are, after all talking through our hats right? Don’t know shit. Who listens? No one wants to admit that there is a dark side to each of us, that maybe it’s your husband having back-door sex with another man, that it’s your wife fucking a gigolo. The young ones are playing within the sex trade and don’t even know it, as simple as a few sexy poses on the internet, wanting to feel like they are a model or some such stupid shit- they won’t listen to their parents telling them to smarten the fuck up, they won’t listen to me, and they won’t listen to you. We all have a story, but no one will listen.”

“If you truly believe that, then why am I here?”

“I’ve read your poetry.”

“Stalk much?” That he knew I wrote poetry surprised me, few did, his comment should of made me uncomfortable, instead I was even more intrigued. Who was this man who read poetry while catering to the whims of high society men and women?

“You have an amazing insight towards life, but there is an innocence about you.”

“I’ve seen too much to be innocent.”

“No one will listen. No one wants to believe that the dark exists, that the hooker, the call girl, the gigolo…” he smiled and paused over the word, “Are someone’s child…someone’s mother, father, brother, sister. Lost souls in the dark, like some-sort of vampire living without the sun.”

“I’m here, I’m listening.”

“Have you ever known a fear so great that it has become your best friend: because it has blocked out the world? It has covered your sins in shadow; it has become the only thing you know? Have you ever been so desperate to escape the pain, to just escape…that you were willing to sell your soul if you could get one more fix?”


“Have you ever welcomed the dark, so you could just stop thinking, stop feeling…stop hurting?”


“Have you ever sold your body, so you could pretend? Close your eyes and pretend, that some one really cared…that someone loved you?”


“Have you ever watched your best friend die of AIDS? Have you ever been walking down the street and have a gun fired at the guy beside you because he could not pay his drug money that week? Watch his blood stain the sidewalk?”


“Have you ever taken your brand new sports car that was bought by flesh money: drunk, stoned, and drive it as fast as you possibly could into a hydro pole on purpose just to end it, because there is no other way out?”


He took my hand and kissed the top of it. “Keep it that way.” He stood “I’ve changed my mind about telling my story, it won’t make a difference, and no one will listen.”

I watched him leave, I knew he spoke the truth, no one wants to know, and no one would listen.



An erotic tease, short story by Tilly

Welcome Home, Tilly Rivers

Welcome Home

As she turned her key in the front door, she sighed. It had been a long tour and she was so tired!  The front door swung open and she slid out of her pumps in the small entryway, tossing her bags and jacket carelessly onto the floor.

She stepped around the corner into the living room, surprised to see the burning candles scattered throughout the room.

A small smile lit her face as she continued on to the dining area; the table that had been covered with paperwork the morning she had left was cleaned and set for two, again with scented candles flickering.

She peeked into the kitchen and there he stood, wearing torn faded jeans and a cream-colored sweater, at the stove stirring something that smelled delicious.  “Mmmm, this is a surprise.  What is it all about?”

He turned to her and wrapped his strong arms around her frame, enfolding her into a warm embrace.  His voice tickled against her ear as he whispered, “All of this is because I missed you more than anything and I wanted to make sure you knew that.”

His lips moved over hers and kissed her, slow and deep, with a passion that emphasized his words, echoing within her cavity how much he had missed her; missed them.

Her body instantly responded and she pressed herself closer.  His subdued groan vibrated against her softness and warmth while his cock hardened almost immediately.

They had both been apart too long.  At times he thought of her as a mystical ghost, here for only brief moments before gone again.

Stroking her back in firm long caresses, gently kneading her shoulders down to the small of her back only to return up the same path of sensuality he was creating with his eager touches.

She let her hands smooth over the sleek muscles of his back, savoring the potency that exuded between them.  She had missed this so much!  It felt like forever had passed since they had actually spent any time together.  Her eyes closed and she returned his impatient kisses with ones of her own.

All too soon he gently pulled away, brushing a wayward strand of hair from her face.  “I made chicken and salad.  Let’s enjoy the meal so we can then enjoy each other.”

She didn’t care about the food he was offering.  Her appetite was for his naked flesh upon hers; to feel his hard cock once more rubbing against her thigh, her pelvis, strong evidence of how much he had missed her.

Yet he went to so much trouble.  She smiled, placing her desires on hold.  Closing her eyes she sent up a mental wish for the food to be consumed quickly so she could feed her true hunger.

They sat down together and ate their dinner talking about all of the things that they had fallen behind on with each other.  Each phrase, each syllable was marked with tiny touches, knowing glances, waiting for the true quest to start.

Her lust pounded in her ears all but drowning out everything except the ache to be touched.  She watched his intense eyes as he spoke, remembering…..


Note: Sorry folks, can’t add the rest as it is pretty XXX rated, and not allowed for such a public forum. This story is one of many in “Wisteria Moon” by me- and I hope you loved reading  the book as much as I did writing it. What?…you don’t have a copy? Hmmm…maybe you can still get one online at not sure, or maybe a friend?

~smiles~ love & hugs my friends.


Short story anyone? CAUTION I bid thee, once you enter fantasy with me, you may not wish to return to reality.

As SEEN in Wisteria Moon, by Tilly Rivers. © this story, and picture are copyright protected by international copyright law.

“Wisteria Robe” is one of the short stories taken from Wisteria Moon, please note, this story contains explicit sexual content and language that may offend some readers.

Wisteria Robe

As seen in Wisteria Moon by Tilly Rivers

He went to the altar, laid his hand upon the stone and closed his eyes, calling the Wisteria Witch….

He watched the group of men and women gathered around the stone altar and breathed in the singing air of anticipation of what was to come.

The blanket of night and fog billowed around them like a mystic covering from the outside world.

The mist-formed shapes left impressions of embracing lovers.  The ebony sky glimmered with an aura of power and waited for her presence.

The legend of the Wisteria Witch and her robe ceremony was deeply embedded in her homeland.

The tale of the sexual ritual of a witch, a high priestess with profound powers, was whispered among the natives in equal parts of fear and awe.

Few truly witnessed the sacred ceremony.

The ones that did witness kept its secrets.

The whispered chants of her name floated in the air.  The goddess they all sought and feared.  She was pure, raw sexuality manifested.

The willow and rowan swayed softly in unison with their partner zephyr.  Leaf, branch, and wind merged under the moon performing nature’s own sexual rite.

He was uncertain of what to expect within the folds of the wisteria robe ceremony.  He only knew that he was meant to be here.  He felt the calling; the pull that tonight would alter his life and he welcomed the change.

He stood with pride and confidence under the soft velvet folds of the wisteria robe.  The material stimulated your naked flesh; tiny life-like sparks caressed you everywhere at once, molding to your frame, worshipping you.

Naked glimpses of bodies teased the senses everywhere you looked.  Hard nipples of women pushed enticingly against the caressing robes. Secret shadows and soft moans were hints of urgent passion flaring.

The hoods of the robes covered the guests’ faces adding to the aura of secrecy and sensual mystery unlike any other.

He was part of the semicircle around the back of the altar, yet felt apart.  Tonight he would be the chosen one to touch her.  He knew it because he felt the call and waited.

The mist flared higher, changing their frantic pose, colors mixed with the transparent miasma.

She was close.  Her presence was felt before her form appeared.  Currents of sweetness bred.  His body tingled with sensation as the robe altered from light touches to excited petting motions, opening the full breadth and beauty of the sensual.

His body eased with joyful sensation, letting the robe and his surroundings touch him in ecstasy.  From his inner core, an inside flame ignited to an overwhelming energy of linked spiritual lust.

Each body became combined to one.  A current of pure lust, massage of heat, a force, as desire and passion expanded from the inside to the outside covering of flesh.  Power.  Raw hunger of each thought, each caress, each sensation of the group now one.

Cardinal desire fused heightened feelings of need until they no longer were a mass but one sensation of savage sexual essence.

Soft blue flickers of breath formed a ring of fire around her ankles.  Worshipping, feeding.

Her gown was transparent, violet threads of glimmered nothing, touching her curves like a waterfall of desire.  The garment split down the front of her being, drawing your attention to each secret tease of her body.

Her hair flowed loose, tickling the back of her neck and shoulders.  The soft blue flames of luminous light flowed as she walked.  Each step of pure blue flame floated around her, disappearing only to reappear again as each step glided closer to the altar and the gathered pagans that had come.

This night.

The night of the wisteria robe.

This witch.

The night of the wisteria witch.

No one moved as the ring of blue circled behind his or her body.  No one moved, as the flames grew higher, alive.  The flame ring crackled with vitality, forming a complete circle around them.

He thought about the flame and that there was no heat.

She turned to him with a tiny wisp of a smile.  Her voiceless words echoed softly in his mind. “No heat?”

His body instantly withered with intense desire, need, and cravings of sexual release.  “No earthly heat,” he corrected instantly and her smile widened before reducing the erotic torture.

Pausing at the stone altar she slowly slid her fingers under the violet strands of her gown. Instantly, hands of creatures not seen before, were there to remove the garment.  He watched the small creatures, her slaves, with fascinated interest.

Small, almost troll-like beings swarmed her.  Here, gone instantly.  Conjured images.

Hundreds burst into the circle surrounding her naked form, fingers caressing and pulling at her body.  She pet them with tenderness as one would a beloved dog or cat.

One was braver, or the leader.  He placed his hand on her smooth mound.  His finger rammed inside her folds.  Her head snapped back. The wind carried the scream of her moan to every watching pagan.  The jolt of sensation she was feeling quivered in each of them.

Moans filled the air, echoing her gasps.  Her body twisted in shared ecstasy.

He stood transfixed as he watched the creatures touch her.  He felt his skin tingle, indents of invisible fingers moved along his burning body.  Every touch, every burning caress upon her flesh was transcended onto each of the worshippers.

Standing within the ring of fire he watched as the creatures lifted her reverently unto the altar.  She waved her fingers to them and smiled.

Each creature went to the guests, removing the robes.  Her commands rolled silently, a melody of desire calling to her pets.  She spoke to them as to whom she would be choosing this night.

The chant of “me” rang out.  Silent pleads in their minds.  Linked thoughts.

“Me.  Let the wisteria witch choose me.”

Each had a deep-rooted appetite to be the one.  “Me.”  The voices grew louder, more urgent and he heard his own voice mingled with the others.  “Me,” he begged, “Please me.”

The creature came closer to him and he smiled. Yes. Yes.

The imp looked up and smiled back only to take the hand of the female next to him.  A shudder went through the crowd, equal parts disappointment at not being the chosen one mixed with excitement.

They all knew that with each sensation that the wisteria witch felt, they too would feel.  Each touch, each soft gasp would vibrate to their very core and burn inside their flesh.

He watched as the eager chosen one ran to the altar to worship the witch lying there.  He watched and felt the chosen one’s lips kiss the sole of the witch’s feet, waiting for permission to touch her.

The crowd waited in awe as the witch gave a small nod of her head giving the chosen female permission to continue.

His flesh quivered as the chosen one’s tongue licked up the witch’s calf to her inner thigh and finally to her pulsating wet pussy.

They all tasted her as the chosen one was, like the nectar of heaven.

*If you wish to continue reading this story, please drop me a line and I will send you a pdf copy of the complete story.

As seen in Wisteria Moon: A teaser….Ancient Wolf Call…

Please note that my erotica stories contain content that may offend some readers, explicit language and sexual themes are present. Reader caution is STRONGLY advised.

Ancient Wolf Call, Tilly Rivers

Ancient Wolf Call

By Tilly Rivers, copyright protected.

That is when she saw him.  Standing barely two hundred yards from where she stood along the lake edge, and just outside of the tree line, the massive wolf began to take form.

He was silver, so beautiful, and as he approached nearer…so ancient.  Eyes that were bluish, and yet almost opaque looked right through her.  Primal and wild eyes and yet knowing and intelligent.  Eyes that you stared at, eyes that made you lose all sense of reality.  Eyes that made you think of dusk and desire and secret longings you did not even know you harbored until that moment.  His eyes touched her soul, and awakened something long forgotten within her.

Each time she closed her own eyes she was haunted by the ones so crisp and alive in her memory.  An awakening was indeed happening, but she had no idea where it would lead her.  She dreamed of the wolf no longer a wolf at all, yet still the beast.  A blend of beast and man and the fantasy comforted her dreams until dreaming was not enough and she had to discover if the mystic pull was indeed her fantasy or reality.

She knew it was crazy, unsafe even, yet the longing to reach out and stroke his fur, to feel the softness against her cheek, to feel the beating of his heart was stronger than any grounding in the “normal.”  She felt his call each night and the magnetic pull was stronger each night until she could no longer resist the calling.

With the security and light of the lady moon she slowly walked back to the lake and waited.  She sensed his presence, turned to find him, wolf now man.  Beautiful, sexy and demanding.  Without waiting or invitation, his lips were upon hers, soft and sweet, mixed with daring and command.  He expressed his longing, desire, and need. She was his willing prey, snared in his power of savage demand.

She felt his passion and found that ancient wolf once more.  As a man, he was still dark, primal, and strong.  A man she had known for so long yet never met; secrets that only time and magic could unveil.  Every time he brushed his body against hers, he sent shivers throughout her entire being and beyond.  Memories of him, from another time and another place filled her.  With a witch’s kiss, she kissed him in return.  Everything within her poured within that kiss; it was a kiss of dangerous passion, and of a love that had never died.

His eyes never questioned whether she wanted more.  He took what he knew was his.  His lips were full and exquisite… they knew how to touch her, kiss her.  All she wanted was to taste his kiss, to feel his touch set her on fire.  Without saying a word, she sank slowly to her knees upon the natural blanket of green under the stars and moon….

If you would like to read the rest of this story, drop me a line and I would be happy to send it to you.

Can you finish it?

I Love to kiss in the rain.

The rain came down in sheets, pouring and snaking it’s way to the earth. She loved the rain and longed to escape the boring meeting to taste it on her lips. Her mind was caught up with the thought of feeling the cool water on her body and she didn’t hear the question directed at her.

“Hello? I need to know if your department has finished the Simon reports?” He asked with a hint of impatience in his deep voice.

Her face flushed as she met his searing blue eyes, every time she looked into them her breath quickened. “Yes they are ready for printing and to be dispersed at the next board meeting.”

“Great, then that’s all we need to discuss today, why don’t we all leave early before the traffic gets too bad, I don’t want any accidents from this weather.” The 12 department heads murmured their thanks and gathered their things to get home to their families. All except one, she knew that she still had at least a couple of hours of work to do, so her husband, would have to wait for his supper. The thought made her grimace.

Jack was the type of man that expected supper to be on the table hot and ready at 6pm. Never mind that his young wife often put in more hours than he did at his prosperous law firm. They had been married 5 years now and she was tired, more and more often finding solace in her job at an up and coming graphic design firm.

She made her way back to her office closed the door and shut the blinds, as she sat down at her desk she reached over and turned on her cd player quietly the sounds of the ocean filling the room. She quickly checked her email and picked up the phone to call Jerry. She got his voice mail yet again. “Hey it’s me, I’ll be home by 7 or so, I’ll pick up Chinese on my way.”

With that out of the way she set her phone to ‘ Do Not Disturb’ mode and began going over her weekly reports. She had been at it for an hour or so when there was a knock at the door. “Come in,” she called out sighing to herself at this interruption, hadn’t everyone left?

“Hey I thought I told everyone to leave early? Seriously-you’ve been working way too much lately. What’s up?” Her boss’s face reflected concern as he sat down in the chair opposite her.

“Nothing, I just like my job and can’t stand to leave with things half finished. Besides it relaxes me, nothing to ease the stress than hundreds of art files.” She smiled softly at her lame attempt at humor.

“Well the rain has let up, it’s still steady but it’s warmer and more gentle, you should be fine going home.” How did he know? She thought had he been outside?  “I gotta get out of here though, would you mind walking me to my car? There’s something there that I want to show you. Connie brought me those prints for the Anderson file. They’re in my trunk, I didn’t want to get them wet so I left them there.  Can we check them out together before the briefing tomorrow? it should only take a minute.”

“Sure no problem I love the rain.” A smile lit her pretty face and she stood up grabbing her blazer and shrugging it on over the tight white blouse she was wearing, before following him out of the room.


AND NOW…I will leave it up to you to finish the story….

Oh me- oh my–I do love teasing…

Visions, By Tilly Rivers



PLEASE NOTE; All copyrights still apply to my work(s)- you are more then welcome to contact me for any of my poems, stories or other materials on this blog, I will be happy to send them to you, with my permission to repost. Of course, with credit to the author.


She leaned her head back on the rest behind her. The airplane seat was smaller than the first class seats she was used to sitting in.  However, her mind was not on the smaller chair, it was on the encounter she had just come from.

She could not believe that was her, the bold daring woman that had come upon her body and made all of her wishes come true.

She had no idea how it happened.  It was as if another life source had entered her soul and took control.  Thankful it had, for she would not have done what this energy creation had.

She would have cringed and hid in the shadows like always, and right now, instead of the smile that played on her lips and the memories that filled her mind, she would be sitting in her cold seat with a mind tumbling with regrets.

She closed her eyes, remembering.  From the time she first saw him, it was as if her new spirit had recognized him, hungered for him, a kindred spirit of fusion that knew each other from before.

It was bizarre, but then, the whole encounter was, and for the first time ever she had, and still was, embracing that difference, in place of shunning it.

It had all started with a five-year-old girl; the magical imp was dancing in the water fountain on the square.  Completely clothed, and clearly having the time of her life.  When her small voice had piped up to speak with her, it was then, at that moment, that her new self had come alive.

“Hi, lady,” the small voice had boldly begun a conversation.


As seen in Wisteria Moon

Visions, By Tilly Rivers

She smiled.

“Having fun?”

“Oh yes,” she giggled.  “Daddy isn’t though.  He has been trying to get me out of the fountain for some time.”

“And why don’t you get out of the fountain, imp?”

“Because, he works too much, and I want him to come in the water and play.”  The child grinned. “He says big people do not play in fountains.”  Her tiny voice mimicked that of a deeper voice.

She smiled. “Is that right?”  Slipping off her shoes, she pulled her skirt up and climbed into the round body of water. The little girl’s smile was wider.  Leaning down, the imp pooled water into the cup of her hand and sprayed it at her.

Her laughter is what caught his attention…the sweet chord vibrated down his spine to land with a solid thud in the middle of his groin.  He was instantly hard.  It was a desire that he could not explain; a craving that came over him with a sweet vengeance.

He closed his cell phone, disconnecting the party to whom he was speaking, without even a good-bye.  He stared at the beauty dancing in the fountain with his daughter.  She had pulled her skirt up and tucked into the waistband, the white blouse now soaked, showing her dark lacy bra, and full erect nipples.

Her hair was soaked, streaming down her back, the water dripping off the curly ends unto her skin.  Her laughter ran free, and she was showing his daughter how to dance….

The child’s mother spoke from behind him.  “It looks like they are having fun.”

Words would not pass from his throat…. Is that what it looked like?  Fun…. No, he thought she looked like a wet mermaid fantasy coming to life.  His groin grew tighter.

He heard the child’s mother call his daughter, saw the look of regret on both of their faces that playtime was over.  Yet he could not tare his eyes away from the water fairy before him.

… a sample…just a tease… of one of the stories as seen in Wisteria Moon, By Tilly Rivers.

The Tease….

Your Eyes Only

Written by Tilly Rivers

© Copyright 2010. Tilly Rivers.


 by Tilly Rivers

Your Eyes Only

She is definitely not a ‘proper’ girl. A fact soon verified when she leaned slightly forward into a beam of sunlight streaming in through the window. The light silhouetted her body through her sun dress, turning it nearly transparent. No not proper at all, but he knew that going in, she was there to interview him for her magazine, but he knew she was there for her own…what had she called it…distraction.


She wasn’t wearing any panties.  He smiled, she was wearing a pair of sexy socks; the kind that ended at her knees–you know- sexy; with the promise of naughty things to come. She clicked off the digital recorder. “That about wraps it up, unless you have anything to add?” her voice was soft, light and he wondered what it would sound like when she moaned in pleasure.

As if she had read his thoughts her nipples stood erect behind the thin covering of her dress.  “The interview is over than?”

“Yes” she agreed, barely above a whisper. Her eyes turned darker, “Very professional don’t you think?”

She stood up then, and he jumped up as well. ‘Was she leaving?’ he thought…hell he had thought that this was more then an interview…shit he cursed, he must have read the signs wrong. He extended his hand in the customary farewell handshake.

She looked at his outstretched hand. Eyes intense, sure, instead of placing her hand in his, she slid around his hand and stood close.  “That’s it then” she said, “Time to say good bye?” Locking her eyes on his face her hands moved  slowly up his upper arms and shoulders, resting there lightly.

“I’m more of a hugger” she murmured in reference to the earlier offered handshake.

Her breath was warm on his neck, and he sighed in pain as she drew back slightly, wanting the contact. His arm came around her and she kissed the side of his neck. She let him pull her in and the sigh turned to a moan.

He felt the intake of her breath, the fast pace of her heart beating against him, those erect nipples now resting against his chest, the heat of their combined bodies almost burning.

Her hand slipped down between them…slowly… until it reached his hardness, wanting the evidence of his arousal pressed firmly into her hand. “So” she whispered, “can I distract you now?”   She did not wait for his answer, instead her lips kissed his neck again, no- kiss was not the action, she was…tasting him… one of her hands pressed against the fly of his jeans, while the other lead his fingers up her body- slowly letting him touch every inch up- up until he lightly cupped the underside of your right breast……


OH NO… sorry, the rest of this story is pretty XXX rated…and well…, not allowed…~giggles~ but I do so hope you enjoyed the tease….

Ta Ta…

Oh wait? You want more? *taps finger against lips in thought* hmmmm…maybe we can…no that won’t work ~smiles~