“I ordered butterscotch,” she said, in a voice that sounded like she was unaccustomed to speaking over the meaningless noise of other people. It was a refined, educated voice but it was a voice that gave the impression that its possessor might have been more comfortable communicating in whispers. An English voice; not remarkable in London , and certainly pleasant to listen to with its warm, soft and almost timid tone.
“I’m sorry, I’ll just change that for you,” replied the waiter then hurriedly picked up the cup and departed. Getting up to leave, I turned abruptly and saw her face for the first time. Her eyes were downcast as she concentrated on sending a text message. I took my time putting my jacket back on and straitening it, while looking at her long, honey blonde hair and lips of pale vermillion. She was smartly dressed in a grey business suite and wore a few discreet rings along with a small gold watch. She now glanced at the watch then unceremoniously tossed the phone back into a small handbag. She looked up. The waiter had just reappeared and I saw her blue eyes catch the light and smile as she noticed that he was heading towards her carrying a fresh cup of coffee. The British would have called her posh but there seemed to be nothing ostentatious or pretentious about her. Her face simply possessed enough of those indefinable qualities that make a face beautiful. Sure, beauty is in the eye of the beholder; but trust me when I tell you that this woman was beautiful by any definition. The waiter set the cup down, made a brief apology, and then walked off. After a moment she took a sip and put the cup back down; evidently satisfied that this was now the right flavour of coffee. I had to get back to the office but as I left the café and for the rest of that day, the image of this beautiful woman stayed in my mind. I don’t know why I noticed her voice, quiet though it was, over the general din of the café that day but I am either romantic or cynical enough to believe in fate. Next day I arrived at the café a little early but she wasn’t there. I stayed for an hour, had lunch and two cups of coffee; the second of which was flavoured with butterscotch. I liked it. Just as I was gathering my few possessions and preparing to leave, I saw her arrive. We were about the same height and she walked with a certain confidence that had not been evident in her voice. She took a seat at a table near mine and sat back in her chair. Her honey coloured was hair tied back, allowing me to better see her slender cheek bones, delicately arched brows and the graceful outlines of her face. She wore light make up, letting a few freckles peek through around a strong, elegantly shaped nose. But again, it was her eyes that most captured my attention; large, dreamy and soulful, they spoke of intelligence, passion and cool sophistication. Eyes insatiable of amorous hours, fervent as fire and delicate as flowers…. Hastily, I pretended to take something out of my wallet and sat back down. An instant later a waitress appeared to take her order. “A cup of butterscotch coffee please, no sugar,” she said quietly. The waitress nodded and left. I then heard a ring tone. It was a lively tune that I instantly recognized; Bach’s Badinarie, the concluding movement of his second orchestral suite . It was her phone ringing. She also had taste. “Hello, Tamsin speaking.” So she had a name . She listened for some time to someone who did most of the talking; her replies being mainly yes and no. Then she said, “Artemisia antiqua, would you like me to spell it for you?….that’s right…..dot co, dot UK ….yes, yes, ok thank you.” Just then my own phone rang. Shit, it was my boss. I was late. I made a mental note of the web address and hurried out of the café into the bustle of London in the early afternoon. I paid no attention to the meeting that I was late for, I cancelled two appointments that I had later that afternoon and I said goodbye to no one when I left the building at 5:15. All I could think about was Tamsin and butterscotch coffee. The rest of that week passed like a restless dream; a series of vague, unconnected and largely meaningless events revolving around the central mystery of the woman from Artemisia Antiqua. The website turned out to be a very classy setup selling valuable antique artifacts; coins, statuettes, jewels, vases, tribal art and jade from almost every one of the world’s ancient cultures. Her picture was there, smiling enigmatically from the screen of my laptop. Tamsin Thorne, she was one of their specialist consultants and her area of expertise was ancient coins. The rest of the staff were a lot of venerable, old professorial types in their sixties. There was also a ‘team’ photo with all of them together. She was the only woman. Man, did she look out of place! Days passed and I continued to see her at the café, but not on every day. The days when she was absent made the place look and feel like an ornate picture frame from which a masterpiece had been rudely torn. Then one day, about two weeks after I had first seen her, everything changed. She did not make an appearance at the café and I went home in the rain, cold, bored and a little dejected. Luckily, my apartment building was only a few blocks away but the traffic and the crowded streets turned the short journey home into a tedious chore. At length, I reached the door of my building and paused to find my key. I then became aware that someone was standing next to me. It was her. She looked me straight in the eye and in a quiet yet confident voice she said, “I’ve noticed you looking at me at the café.” I was speechless and must have only nodded my head. “Well, the truth is, I’ve been looking at you too. Wanna fuck?” I then totally lost what little power I had to form a coherent answer and must have nodded again; I can’t quite recall. We entered the hallway and I led her to the elevator. I managed a smile which she promptly returned. The elevator doors opened to reveal the building’s caretaker, a dour, hawk-faced old Scots woman who turned away as she saw us, to face the elevator’s control panel. I pressed the button hard for the fifth floor, turning away from Tamsin as I did so. Then the crazy notion entered my head that I was going to turn back and find that she had vanished. But there she stood, a reality of living, breathing loveliness. I moved and stood next to her as the elevator began its ascent. The old caretaker briefly looked round at us. Then Tamsin looked me in the eye and with her sophisticated English voice full of sincerity, she said, “Don’t worry, I’m not a whore, but I am a slut.” I could not believe she had said this and I instantly realized that she intended to shock the old woman as much as to surprise me. The statement achieved both objectives and I heard a disapproving mutter escape the old woman’s lips as she got off at the fourth floor. I fumbled with my door key and pushed the door so hard that the impact rattled the floor boards. As soon as we were inside and the door was shut, I felt my tie being pulled. I turned to find a pair of full lips and two dreamy blue eyes totally filling my field of view. Her kisses were long and slow at first, then they grew in intensity. She lightly raked the back of my neck with her nails making it tingle and soon her eager tongue began to explore my mouth. My hands slipped behind her and found her shoulders, I brought her closer, and then she moved me against the wall. It’s always exciting when a woman takes the initiative, so when I felt her loosen my tie and unbutton my shirt I began to feel the serious stirrings of lust. Our kisses became more furious. To add to the drama, she would occasionally break away for an instant to look at me in the eye and smile mischievously. The more she did this, the more she turned me on; it was as if we were doing something clandestine and deliciously illicit. At last I felt her hands unfasten my belt and she stopped kissing me. She looked me in the eye again for a long moment with that faintly perverse smile. Then she knelt down. She swept her hair to one side and pulled my boxers down with both hands. My cock was already well on its way to hardness as she grabbed it by the head, “You know, I would have blown you in the lift had that old woman not been there.” She giggled slyly and for the third time that day, I was struck dumb. But then all thought, all reason and all logic left me as her lips, her tongue and her cheeks began to produce a beautiful rhythm deep in my soul. Before long, my cock pulsed with life as it was tortured first with gentle instruments of honey, silk and satin, then massaged by strong, supple pressure working its base in just the right way.
This woman was good, too good and I knew that I could not hope to resist such a fierce onslaught for long. I placed a hand on her head and she paused. Then the smile returned, “I’m not going to stop.” Who was I to argue? She went on, alternately licking and pumping the shaft of my cock. I leant against the wall and tried to tear my eyes away from her beautiful golden head as it rocked back and forth; faster and faster. Delicious minute followed upon delicious minute. Her every motion was like the warm caress of a tropical sea and I found myself adrift upon it, sailing closer and closer to the island of dreams fulfilled. She moaned as I stared at the ceiling, I looked at some of my paintings, I thought about my office, Tax time, Uhhh, uhhh, uhhh, uhhhhhh hhhaaaa haa! Her hand squeezed me once more and I totally surrendered. My eyes rolled back, my teeth clenched, my fingertips pressed into the wall, my back arched and I became rigid all over. I held my breath and unleashed shot after shot of my DNA into her greedy mouth. As I came, she stopped moving her head and drank the come from the tip of my cock as though it was a straw. Her hand meanwhile, milked my balls and squeezed the base of my shaft till it felt like I was drained dry. I exhaled loudly and shivered as she stood up; still with her hand on my cock. She smiled triumphantly and licked her thumb with the tip of her tongue, “Mmmm, butterscotch, my favourite.” Later we relaxed on the couch and had a couple of gin and tonics; that most English of drinks. “What’s your name?” she asked me quietly. “Josh, Josh Mackay.” “It’s a pleasure to meet you Josh,” she said formally, then added, “I’d tell you my name but then, you already know it. In fact, you know a lot more about me than I know about you.” I nodded slowly, “Tamsin Thorne. Ancient numismatics, Artemisia antiqua.” She smiled; it seems I had solved one of the sphinx’s riddles. Then I added, “But I should be careful with the term ancient; I’ve seen some of the guys you work with.” She laughed. She then glanced at the window. It was only about 6pm but quite dark outside with a gusty wind rattling the window panes. “How’s that little Vietnamese place up the street?” “Umm, good. I’ve only been there a couple of times. Would you like to try it?” “Certainly.” I gave her a scarf and a warm overcoat to wear and with an arm around each other, we braved the cold, windswept street. I guess our trip to the restaurant qualified as a first date, although we said little; taking the time instead to enjoy a steaming bowl of pho and spicy cold rolls. Small talk aside, Tamsin was good company and in the low light I began to appreciate how beautiful she really was. Not just beautiful either, she was hot; looking just as adorably fuckable in an overcoat as she did nude. How good she did look I was soon to discover. We left the restaurant after about an hour and a half, by which time the weather had eased considerably, so we took our time strolling back towards my building. I fought the urge to ask her to come up but I hoped that my arm around her shoulders would make it clear that I didn’t want her to leave. I needn’t have worried for as we reached the building I noticed her waiting patiently for me to open the door. Once in the elevator, she made some favorable comments about the beef and noodle soup we had just eaten then I felt her hand rub my cock through my jeans. Again that devilish smile told me exactly what she had in mind and when she proceeded to unzip my jeans, I protested lamely. “Ok, but I will convert you.” Tapping her foot with a mild look of impatience, she turned to face the doors of the lift. As soon as they opened, she strode out briskly and took off the overcoat. I quickly opened my door and did not even have time to set my keys down. She gripped my collar and led me to the couch. Next she quickly shed her clothes and kicked them aside almost with contempt. I looked at her in awe. She saw the look on my face and decided to tease me by swaying from side to side while rubbing her sides slowly with her palms spread. She then cupped her breasts with both hands, raised them slightly and turned to the side. With her hair covering one eye she said, “You like?” She didn’t wait for my answer but went to the gas heater, squatted in front of it and turned it on. As I looked at her squatting there with her hair running down her back like a golden waterfall, my blood temperature must have risen by several degrees. She turned around and came up to me. She had that seductively crafty look on her face again as she started removing my clothes. I helped her and we finally stood in front of each other, totally nude. “Mmmm, it looks like the rest of you, Josh Mackay, might be just as delicious as your cock.” I chuckled then shook my head in disbelief, “And you, you look…. totally awesome.” That must have been the understatement of my life. From her luscious grapefruit sized breasts with their pert rosebud nipples, to her discreetly pierced navel, to an almost invisible brush stroke of blond pussy hair – such as Renoir might have painted, Tamsin was exquisite. She took a step closer and I put my hands on the curves of her hips then ran my palms up her sides, over her back, across the cheeks of her butt and down her legs. It was my turn to look her in the eye, “Every turn and glance of thine, every lineament divine.” “You’re quite the romantic I see,” she whispered and our lips locked. I kissed her passionately and she seemed a little surprised at first, but she soon outdid me and it was quite a task matching her intensity. Our tongues wrestled and our lips burned, I bit her chin, and her cheeks, she reciprocated by licking my earlobes and biting my throat, she ran her tongue down my neck to my chest and back again; leaving cool tingling lines as her saliva evaporated. The whole time I massaged her shoulders, caressed her waist and occasionally, I gripped her butt cheeks and parted them with both hands, bringing her body snugly up against me. I now felt a slender hand close around the head of my cock and tug it gently. But she was only leading me to the couch where she sat back and spread her legs. That same beautifully manicured hand reached down and now rubbed and tugged at the delectable object that I had tried to imagine many times since I first laid eyes on her. I knelt down like a devotee before the image of a goddess. Her eyes narrowed and in a loud whisper she said, “Lick me.” Her pussy was as beautiful as the rest of her and I took the time to appreciate its delicate pink loveliness. Moist as it was, it might have been some rare tropical flower glistening with dew. I took her hands and made her spread the lips, then with my tongue I explored her every fold and plunged it as deep into her as it would go. She responded with sweet sounds of lust and delight, the like of which I have seldom heard. Encouraged, I renewed my efforts; putting heart and soul into the task of bringing bliss to this nymph. I lapped up her juices and made circles around her clit, gently at first, taking time over this most precious of all her manifold treasures. My tongue danced over it, teasing it more and more until I felt her hands grasp the back of my head and push my mouth still deeper into her. Then the nails of one hand dug into the back of my head while with the other, she gripped my shoulder. I realized that she was about to come so I continued licking her clit furiously. Again and again she cried out and it was a long time before her cries subsided. Her voice was pure music to me; in it I heard triumph and tragedy, ecstasy and elation, exultation and vulnerability. It was the voice of unsullied truth. When at last she was silent I slowly raised my head. I fought the urge to dry my chin lest she take this as a mild insult. I was met by two eyes; dark, unfathomable, framed by more than the usual measure of white. Had I surprised her? She said nothing but drew me towards her. Now there was need in her eyes. She put her arms around me and rested her head on my shoulder. I could feel her breath on my chest; long, slow, cathartic, contented. I smiled to myself; we didn’t need words. After we had lain on the couch for a while, gently touching each other, she got up and asked me where the bathroom was. I watched her pad away lazily like a leopard replete after the kill, with her head to one side as though she was lost in thought. My eyes savored legs, hips and butt, shoulders swaying and most potent of all, tumbling golden hair; beautiful beyond words. I heard water running in the bathroom then she returned looking like the other side of loveliness, but now there was purpose in her stride. She bent over, kissed me on the forehead and grasped my shoulder. “Carry me to bed; I think it’s time for your reward.”
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part 2
I hugged her as she wrapped her arms firmly around my shoulders. I then felt her legs clench around me and she rested her head against my chest. I slipped my hands under her thighs and picked her up; fully appreciating what supple, long legs she had. As I took her to the bedroom, my still hard cock bounced joyfully up against her wet pussy. There was something deeply satisfying about that moment; at the command of primordial nature we had somehow left civilization and all its restrictions far behind.
I set Tamsin down gently on my bed. She looked up at me submissively, giving me her undivided attention and not even glancing at the room, as I would have expected. It was as if she had been there before. I smiled. The subtlety of this woman was as alluring as her audacity. I knelt on the bed next to her as she reclined luxuriously on the plump, white pillows; her hair framing her face like a golden halo. I lit some candles and turned down the lights. I then felt a hand pass over my butt cheeks and reach around to grasp my cock. I turned to see a pair of beautiful, mystical eyes burning blue in the half-light. Those eyes made the entire world around us disappear as if it had been the flimsiest of illusions. I lay next to her and slipped my arm under her neck, bringing her face up to mine. Her tongue instantly found its way into my mouth, followed by fiery bursts of breath that became more and more intense as we kissed. Her hand meanwhile was working its enchantment on my cock; flicking the foreskin back and forth slowly, pulling me towards her and massaging my shaft with ever increasing fervor. She did this so well that I was soon as hard as granite. Suddenly she stopped and grasped the back of my neck, “Fuck me.” I ran a couple of fingers over her pussy lips. She was very wet. She spread her legs as I climbed on top of her. I paused as she gripped the head of my cock and guided it into her. It’s absolutely wonderful when a woman does that – taking control. I felt intense gratitude mingled with the most delicious desire, my spine tingled and I felt myself growing even harder. Intuitively, I thrust into her slowly, taking the opportunity to massage her pussy lips with the head of my cock. She purred but then I felt the pressure of her palms on both my butt cheeks as she encouraged me to go deeper. I did, and what my cock found in the innermost depths of this woman was nothing short of pure bliss. Her pussy was unbelievably smooth and silky, yet she gripped my cock firmly as I thrust into her again and again with only my balls stopping me from going still deeper. After a few minutes I shifted slightly and looked at her face. She opened her eyes and I saw them filled with pure emotion and sublime lust. She then shifted her legs and rested them on my lower back. Any pressure just there was a great turn on, so I thrust into her harder; gripping the bed post with one hand to increase the force of my thrusts. After a little of this, a change came over her. She dug her nails into both my shoulders and held me tighter with her legs. I knew exactly what to do – I kept up a regular, powerful rhythm. Quietly at first, she started to moan, then her voice grew louder and louder as she was trapped in a torrent of passion. I lunged into her one final time and she gasped. It was the last utterance in a hymn of sweet surrender. I felt a hand lazily running through the locks of my hair and heard musical notes of contentment leave her throat. She smiled; her wide blue eyes losing none of their brilliance in the candlelight. My cock was still buried deep inside her, now possessively caressed by her velvet depths. It had found a cozy new home. “Use me, use my cunt, my body, any way you like, I’m all yours,” she whispered in my ear. I bit my bottom lip and pulled out of her; the sudden coolness of the room serving to awaken my cock to new possibilities, to new delights. I flipped onto my back and drew her closer. She instantly understood and carefully climbed onto me. I looked down to catch a glimpse, between her golden breasts, of my glistening cock arching towards me. It was then snugly returned to the moist haven from which it had been removed and I immediately felt it harden appreciatively. As she began to rock back and forth, Tamsin’s hair fell down around her face, obscuring everything but her dreamy eyes. If ever there was a scene to inspire pure lust in me, this was it. Becoming accustomed to the feel of me inside her again, she met my every thrust with a counter stroke. Her hands held onto my shoulders like the talons of a falcon and her perfect breasts swung tantalizingly past my mouth like a pair of ripe mangoes dripping with nectar. I longed to reach up and lick them. All this time her breathing and the soft moans that she made were pure music to my ears. It was almost too much. I held her by the waist and with every down-stroke I ground her clit gently against me. The effect was wonderful to see; pleasure was written all over her face. But this part of our love-making was not about her, I reminded myself, it was about me. I made her stop and I swung my feet onto the floor. Standing behind her, I pulled her butt towards me. She got onto all fours eagerly and threw her head back. I spread her butt cheeks gently and slipped my cock into her. I held her by the waist and by the shoulders and she began to thrust into me. This woman’s beauty was a multi-dimensional force; each aspect of her was as beautiful as any other. Now I gazed upon her arched back, her shoulders splashed by flaxen hair and upon her delicate waist and hips. I ran my fingers between her butt cheeks getting a glimpse of her bottom. My balls swung freely in their sublime abandon and I now felt her hand rub and squeeze them. This was my cue to thrust into her harder and she responded by pulling her but cheeks apart with one immaculately manicured hand. She must have read the book on arousal; once I saw her do this I felt that the time for restraint was past. I grabbed her shoulders and brought all my strength to bear on the task. I shut my eyes as I felt a tingle at the base of my spine. I took a deep breath – fuel for what was to follow. My balls tightened and my cock reached the apogee of hardness. I was still. Time stopped and the only thing I was conscious of was the adamantine grip I now had on her shoulders. Then wave after shuddering wave of pure delight coursed through every inch of my body. I drew breath like a newborn; almost painfully, as though my lungs had never tasted air before. Then at last, the tempest subsided. She leant forward slowly allowing my cock to escape. She then turned to face me, beaming like a cat that had just caught a prized goldfinch. “Lie back and relax a little while I lick our juices from your cock,” she purred, “Oh and I promise to be gentle,” she added with her sly smile. I lay back on the pillow and watched her as she wound her fingers around my drenched and still erect shaft. She started at the head and shut her eyes, her tongue and lips savoring my every fold as if the cock in her mouth was a cone of gelato. At times she would look at me and her eyes would smile, then she would return to her task with renewed enthusiasm. She licked my balls, then returned to my shaft; finally positioning her mouth above it and sliding it deep into her salivating mouth. I felt her lips lock around me and suck up any last drops of my come that remained. I flinched slightly as I was becoming quite tender by now. In answer I saw her cold blue eyes unfold from their lids like the moon emerging from behind a bank of cloud on a summer’s night. Could you hurt me, sweet lips, though I hurt you? Men touch them and change in a trice The lilies and langours of virtue For the raptures and roses of vice……. At this moment only poetry was capable of describing how I felt and even that seemed barely enough. I glanced at the clock. It was way past midnight as we got up to shower. I washed her hair and sponged her down with lavender soap. I’ve always preferred the natural smell of a woman to artificial scents but she seemed to appreciate my efforts. We dried each other and she asked me what time it was. I told her and her eyes lit up, “Can you be a darling and make me a cup of tea? White with none.” Her overt politeness and refined accent were irresistible. After a few minutes I returned from the kitchen to find her sitting up in bed; topless, talking on her phone and with her laptop open.
“Yes, Tamsin Thorne. How are you Rudolf? Wie geht es dir? Gut, gut. Yes, it’s still available. No, it’s not Trajan, it’s Hadrian. Are you looking at it now? Good, well you see on the obverse that is says; Imperator Caesar Traianus Hadrianus Augustus. Yes that’s right. Trajan was his immediate predecessor. It’s from 119 A.D.” She paused, looking up at me, nodding thanks for the tea and smiling. “Yes,” she continued, “he died in 138 A.D. I would grade it extremely fine. Ok, you’ll go for it? Excellent, just go ahead and pay via the website. You did it correctly last time.” She giggled as the man on the other end of the line paid her a compliment. “ Es war schon geschafte mit ihnen. It’s been nice doing business with you. “Vielen dank Rudolf. Auf weidersehen.” She clicked the phone shut and wriggled across to one side of the bed. I put the tea down, got in to bed next to her and looked at the screen of her laptop, “So what’s Herr Rudolf just purchased?” With a triumphant flick of the wrist she pointed to a yellow disc on the screen. It was a Roman aureus, a gold coin minted under the emperor Hadrian; one thousand, eight hundred and seventy years ago. Her obvious joy was something new to see but I understood when I realized that she had just made a sale worth five thousand pounds! She soon fell asleep in my arms, spent and content. I looked down at her chest; rising and falling gently, her eyes; serenely shut but with lashes fluttering ever so slightly. Did she dream? Hast thou heard the butterflies What they say betwixt their wings? Or in stillest evenings With what voice the violet woos To his heart the silver dews? This night was anything but still. Outside, rain and wind pelted the glass balcony doors and I could see a swirling, spectral sky pulse with lightning. I blew out all the candles and held her close to me in the darkness. The smoke from the burning wax gave the room something of the aura of a Byzantine church. But no pallid saints were honoured here, no paradoxical trinity reigned. This was the domain of a goddess; sanguine and subtle, noble and nude and antique… * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 2:30pm Tuesday The intercom chimed, It was Margaret, our solidly middle class Irish office manager, “Joshua, there’s a young lady called Artemisia Antiqua here to see you. She’s one of your clients? She doesn’t seem to have an appointment.” “It’s ok Margaret, send her in. Thanks.” A minute later I heard a click and there, framed in the chrome rectangle of the doorway was Tamsin. She wore small, rectangular sunglasses, her hair pulled back in a tight pony-tail with a fringe covering her forehead and a disquieting shade of dark red lipstick. She had an elegant black business suite on with a very short skirt. To complete the picture; high heels of black, metal studded leather showed off her legs to great advantage. “Welcome to Marmaduke, Daintree and Partners, Miss Antiqua,” I said obsequiously. She made no reply, merely sneering contemptuously at the mention of the firm’s name and strutting up beside me; her heels producing a staccato rat-tat-tat on the floor. She looked down at me as though I was some insignificant insect then roughly pulled my seat out from the desk. She spun me around to face her then ran a hand armed with pale violet talons ran down the side of my face, under my chin and across my chest. Rudely removing my tie, she threw it disdainfully across the room. “Miss Antiqua, we are a respectable law firm. What is the meaning of this behavior?” Still she said nothing; glaring at me instead with venomous eyes that I could just see behind the shades. She then dropped to her knees and violently pulled down my zipper, undid my belt and pants, pulled down my boxers and proceeded to pump the base of my cock. “Miss Antiqua, I must protest most vehemently at this outrageous…..” Fiercely the leopard growled, I was silenced and she returned to her kill. I looked down to see an exquisitely fashioned face lapping at my nether regions. I shivered as my cock started to respond to her attentions. As my swelling shaft began to fill her mouth, she bobbed her head faster and faster, at the same time increasing the suction of her mouth and the pressure of her cheeks and tongue. For some reason I hit the play button on my CD player and the opening strains from the overture of Vivaldi’s opera Bajazet began to fill the room . The stately music contrasted piquantly with the scene before me – her tongue sliding up and down every inch of my cock. I took her sun glasses off and marveled at her eyes of arctic blue, framed by black penciled lines – giving them a distinctly Egyptian air. Even in their present attitude, they were transcendentally beautiful eyes. She shut them and switched to licking the underside of my shaft. I was getting harder and harder watching this torrid performance; set to the music of Vivaldi and all taking place in my lap. Suddenly the aria ended – allegro con brio. She stood up and performed a brief set of choreographic moves to the music of the maestro’s recitative. Turning to face the window, she unbuttoned her skirt, peeled it off and threw it on the floor. She had absolutely nothing on underneath. A hand grasped my backward curving cock and I watched it disappear deep into her tropical latitudes. She steadied herself on my desk and started to buck wildly. I could not move. My cock might have been a pinnacle of rock for all the activity that it was then capable of. So I sat back to watch her at work. Her exquisite butt now ground into me and my breathing rapidly deepened. Always alert, her cat like senses detected this and she slid her pussy harder and harder up and down the length of my shaft. After a few moments of this I felt powerful forces beginning to stir inside me. My juices were nearing boiling point when she sprang off me, turned gracefully around and locked her lips onto my cock. I felt the tip of her tongue tickle the head and her hands press the spot at the base where my surging juices had gathered. I let fly and saw her smile as her mouth quickly filled with warm liquid nourishment. I felt her swallow several times as she milked more and more out of me. My fingers had left their impression in the arms of the chair and my feet had been wrapped tightly around its base. I finally relaxed; feeling totally drained and pleasantly sore. Hardly noticing me, she collected her skirt and walked over to the window to put it on. Gazing down onto the street idly, she then bent down to collect her handbag. As she gathered up her sun glasses from my desk I said, “Marmaduke, Daintree and Partners thanks you for your business Miss Antiqua.” She turned sharply and snarled at me ferociously with eyes like the blade of a samurai. And she was gone. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * “Hello, Tamsin Thorne speaking.” “Hi beautiful.” “Hello Joshie, what are you up to sweetness?” “Just got back to the office and I’m sitting here thinking of you. Are you busy?” “No, not really. Just doing some research, as usual. The guys are out to lunch and I’m here all by my little self.” “Sounds good. What are you researching?” “Ancient kings, long vanished empires, lovelorn queens and beautiful courtesans – you know, the usual stuff.” “No, tell me.” “About what?” “Well, let’s start with the courtesans.” “Ok, have you heard of Phryne?” “No.” “Oh, you’ll like her. Not only was she intelligent and devastatingly gorgeous, but she could do things with her posterior that men would gladly squander their family fortunes for.” “Mmmm, tell me more.”
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