ᴸᴬᵁᴿᴱᴺ
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It has been two days, and I still haven't mutter a word unless it was business-wise. And over the course of those two days, my attraction for her ran deeper than the flow of my blood; and felt darker than the midnight sky–no stars. It definitely taste hazardous, but feels unusual; for me, anyway. I'm still relentless around her. Most times–all the time–I feel a luscious sense in the deepest pit of my stomach, churning like a boiling cauldron when I'm with her.
My lips are still buzzing from their high, all the while, heightening my hormones and emotions. I squeeze my thighs more often for self-control, and it hardly helps sometimes; it just adds more wanted pressure. If her placing one single kiss having me reacting this way, I wonder if her sex would be toxic? I'm already acting like addict with no self control. I mean, she is my boss for crying out loud. Not necessarily, the devil on my shoulder disagrees and my eyebrows creases downward as it continued,
She didn't technically hire you...you're there to prove that you have the ability to become an assistant. And the way I see it, your time hasn't expired. Why not kill two birds with one stone, eh? Get to know what it feels like while you can. You're under training, and when you step foot back in New Orleans; you'll be her assistant and you won't ever have to think like you're having sex with the boss, blah blah blah, it's so wrong.
My forehead softly clash into the moist white tile, images of her body parts flooding my head. I frailly groan, the unsettling feeling resurrecting once again, right on top of my stomach. My guts senses the urge to throw up, and it only does that when I'm anxious. I ended my lengthy shower and threw on something close to professional. Well, these are Ms. Hamilton old clothes she let me borrow. The scary woman was actually nice enough to take a trip to her condo for me. In the midst of slipping on my flats, there was a knock at the door.
"Yes?" I answered in acknowledgement, waiting for a response.
"Can I come in?" the person sounded muffled behind the door. My eyebrows brood as I stood up, testing my shoes first before heading in the direction of the door. It sounded nothing like Normani. It seems I took a while to answer since he said, "Uh–Ms. Hamilton said to meet her in the lobby in the next five minutes. And don't bring anything but a jacket. It's chilly today she informs." Hearing his feet scattering away from the door, I stretch my neck for her jacket, and went to retrieve it once my eyes fell on it.
Swiftly, I drive my arms into the jacket and zipped it up once it wrapped around me. I feel like I am forgetting something when I shut the door and start making my way towards the elevator. Moments later, I step foot pass the elevator, creating myself to become small enough to slip through the business people. My eyes wander around the lobby until something willed me to find cinnamon orbs; warm as a spring day and chilly as a winter night. She springs from her lounging position and begin to make her way to me.
I would meet her halfway to kill time but, how can I move a muscle when I can't even find room in my lungs to breath cooperatively? Oh, you idiot, I scolded myself.
"You made it finally," she gently smiles, "No work today. Only shopping...of course not without having breakfast first...are you hungry?" she questioned and I try to imagine for it to be innocent. Having to re-hear that question again, triggers me. It was the start of the conversation and the ending was pretty abrupt. But, I want to fuck you, instead. My tongue graze over the bottom of my lip, pushing back the invading negative thoughts.
I nod and sputters, "Ye-yeah, I haven't eaten yet."
"Great. That outfit is the last one for today," she casually clarified then turn on her heels, and begin her journey towards the entrance.
"I-I...pardon me?" my feet tried to move as fast as her legs; dashing through the people, "Last one, meanin-"
"Which means, I'll be carrying you shopping like I mentioned in the office. Lets get going. People love spending money in Paris," putting out her hand, she waits for me to grasp onto her. Her brown eyes portrayed to be disquiet, yet her face is flat. I grab
it, thinking, Lets begin, shall we?
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oмnιѕcιənт
The green-eyed girl felt both, relieved and distressed on having the business woman spending money on her. It feels strange and faultess. The ebony woman had been brought the fancy attires, and now, the latina is fiddling with the hem of the dress that wouldn't slip pass the middle-top of her thighs. The inner Lauren screams for her to; fuck it up, while the devil on the her shoulder, clap his hands little by little, like he couldn't deliver the message any better. Hazel eyes aim straight at the leather jacket, lying on the chair in the back-ground. Spinning around, after contemplating, the jacket ended up in her hand, as she observes it.
Do it. You know you want to, the devil taunted and she could feel the hotness of his crooked grin, engraving into the back of her neck. Make her feel what you feel.
"I still feel her lips on mines," she murmurs to the jacket, as if she was speaking into the mirror at her own reflection. "I...I want to feel that again–just...one more time at least." Lauren felt like withdrawals was overtaking her, filling her body with needs, instead of wants. Fighting isn't working and neither is trying to not to think nothing of it. That kiss was just a sample and she can't help but wonder if what Ms. Hamilton providing...is still up for sale?
Still standing tall, her mind doesn't flows into the imagines of them two in the bed together. No, not when just images are continuing to haunt her. Latter bustling her fingers through her hair, she makes the decision to proceed. Proceed to make Ms. Hamilton uncomfortable. It's the only excuse for her to tie the jacket over her waist to give a tease and to straighten out the suede, black knee-high boots. The adult actually feel grown for once.
"You've been in there for a while..." the sable woman sentence stops up, hearing the rings around the pole; scratches, and there appear the green-eyed girl, oozing with something she didn't have before. With Lauren's right foot settle in front of her left, made the curves drawn in her waist pop. Normani's choc-olate orbs tries to stay in one place but can't, even if she wanted them to. Disregarding the growing tight-ening in her pants, she tells her, "Spin around."
"...is that appropriate, Ms. Hamilton?" she ask plainly with a twinge of disobedient, closely out of breath by the ultimate glare in the woman's eyes. "Checking me out."
The atmosphere changes just as the cocoa-colored woman stood to her feet; and now, for some apparent reason, her fixing up her blazer when she gets up, is be-coming hot. Her body charmingly sways as she inches closer to the milk-colored woman, who hands was still on the curtains. The pounding in her core nearly made her whine on the spot, as Normani step to her; their height differences causes difficulties. They almost look as one; Lauren's forehead can only meet with the taller woman's shoulder.
"I think we are pass the signs of appropriate or inapp-ropriate, Lauren," the medium brown-haired girl took notice on how she would only say her name when she's serious, "But, when I ask you to do something, you better damn right do it. I won't repeat myself. Spin around." Lauren closes her eyes, the same alluring scent of her cologne tickles her nose in the most fancy way possible. Within four seconds, the latina's back is touching the front of Normani's body. Please bend me over, inner Lauren wishes on the edge of mis-ery.
"Take the jacket off," the honey-filled voice instructed, her breath tepid on the latina's neck. Shivers visibly ripple over her skin like waves. In due time, the leather jacket flopped on the floor, pooling around her foot. The burden of the air shallowly pushes more against her neck, as she felt something firm fit right in the lining of her dress. The cotton material was wedge in the middle of her ass, making whatever it is that is press against her; uses the crease of her ass for support. The anticipation is eating through Lauren's stomach, touching her somewhat arch back. "You want all of this?"
"Yes..." Normani grayly chuckles, lifting up her head from the back of Lauren's neck. Although, she miss the contact of her hollow breath, her body heat still kept her on her toes, yearning for more.
"Great," she quickly says, "I'll buy it. We should gets the move on. I was hoping we could see a movie for the rest of our activities." The only activity I'm really looking forward to is making our own movie, Lauren thinks, then shames herself instantly for having her head in the gutter. Right when the heat drops from her behind, she promptly questioned her.
"Ar-aren't you going to buy something for yourself?"
"Why, I already have brought them..." the muddled woman turns her shoulder to a degree, with the twist of her neck. She waited until words fell out the latina's mouth.
"No, I mean...are you going to get something like me, for yourself," she further explained with tight eyes, in hope, she wouldn't betray her despair in wanting to turn putty in the other woman's hold. Oxygen blinks not found, once it pulled over the milk-colored woman head; her hazel eyes stalk the woman's every move until she reach her destination, in front of the cuban. The passion spit back fire and she dissolves on site.
"Will you help me?" her voice is as gently as thin air, traveling her index finger over the lines of Lauren's face; lastly, hovering after the feathery touch. The thick-ness of the helium clings to the cuban's throat.
"Sure," she clears her throat from the itching, "Okay."
The corner of the older woman's lips twitch at the slightest, pulling along her fulls lips, "Scalet!" she calls and no later than two seconds, a middle age woman with grayish brown hair protrude from behind the curtains; shocking the younger girl at her swiftness.
"Yes, Ms. Hamilton," she answered, hands cross in front of her, and eyes peering straight at the business woman's back, as she rolls her shoulders back for comfort. Tilting her head, she slick her bottom lip in her mouth, impishly smiling just a little. Then it expands, catching the cuban's eyes flick over both; her eyes and lips.
"Choisissez la meilleure chose que vous avez ici et ramenez-les dans cette salle. S'il te plaît et merci," she facially orders, dark, chocolate orbs stunning greenish, blue eyes. Scarlet do as told, leaving the two alone again. Maybe after fifth-teen seconds later, Normani breaks them apart and says, "Come with with me," then slip pass her, entering the dressing room. "Sit," her brown eyes gleam a smile when Lauren almost breaks her ankles to find a seat to plop down on. Lauren's reddish lips parts a centimeter, seeing as the ebony woman taking off her blazer arm by arm. The collar of the jacket hanged by her index finger until she decided it was time for it to fall for its death.
Each and every button that came undone took a shot at Lauren's heart. Normani acts as if there were no one in the room but herself; taking her sweet time to remove her ironed, white shirt. Water seeped the cuban's mouth. "How old are you?" Normani ask in one blow, and it forces Lauren's eyes to blink to recall. The sable woman kindly smiles through the mirror, then threw the shirt on the other lounging chair. "Today, Lauren..."
"...um, nineteen. I'll turn twenty in June," she resort with little energy, and Normani hearts almost flutter at the gleaming lights in her eyes. "How old are you?" she countered, scooting up in her chair, then lost her smile realization smacking her at how close-off the other woman appears to be. Lauren went ignored the last thirty seconds and squeeze away the unshed tears.
The green-eyed girl absolutely despise being ignored, but instead of feeding off of anger, she gets offended and feel as if she isn't worth the other person time. Finally, sadness waddles her, the glimmering tears proving evidence.
"Twenty-nine," she answers in boredom, after hearing the tiny sniffles, "But I'm sure your parents taught you to never ask a woman their age...it's offensive."
"...I am a woman–"
"You're a young lady," she quickly resorted, "You're still a child to me," she remarked, and the sharp tone give Lauren's a slice to the heart. "A child who eyes light up just as beautiful as Paris. It's definitely a sight to see." And just like that, Lauren's cheeks sizzles as it morphs from red to the lightest shade of pink. She sneaky wipes the recently fallen lone tear from under her eyes, and curse for being so sensitive.
This is not a good sign, she warns but keep flushing, especially fighting the struggles to discontinue to stare at the older woman. Her skin is completely flawless. Her fingers leap with the urges to run the tip of them over the texture.
Scarlet comes by with the tagged clothes, handing them to the business woman and dismissing herself before Ms. Hamilton gives her the command to do so. Lauren watch the bulge in the other woman's boxer, presses into the front of the pants near the zipper, as she puts them on. Her eyes travel from the waistband of her boxers and seeped up the image of the defined four pack crafted in her stomach. Leading them back down, how could she have miss the explicit yet, subtle v-line molded near her hips. This woman screams sex.
"Have you always been this fit?" Lauren ask and brown eyes reflect back at her through the mirror. The end of her left eyebrow raises as she turns to a degree whilst the latina scratches her scarred knee, just a bit timid.
"I like to think so," she meets the mirror, grabbing the shirt in the process. Driving her arms through the shirt, she then said with the tilt of her head, "I played sports most of my life. Football, basketball. Anything that caught my attention."
Lauren slip in her bottom lip, collages of Normani back in high school, carelessly playing football. Her spiral curls flowing loose in any direction of the wind. "Don't. Do that," the growling voice almost barks at her, and she looks at the mirror, the other woman's eyes are close. Reopening them, the landing of her eyes hitting Lauren made her choke nonexistent air.
"Do...what?" she slowly ask, rather oblivious, eyes only growing slightly wider. The cocoa-colored woman snorts through her nose, smashing both of her hands together while spinning around. Now, her lip is in her mouth. Lauren peek at the valley in her chest, as the other woman's hands disappear behind her pockets.
"You're really making this hard," Normani simply tells her, and the cuban thinks, what is that suppose to mean?
A moment or two passes, then she shrugs, "I don't know what you're talking abou–"
"Stand up!" the authority in her voice took a snip at the cuban and her face expresses when a child get scolded at a candy store. Her is knowledge is that Normani has poor waiting skills, therefore, Lauren hesitantly follows the order from her. A while later her neck is engulfed by the other woman's hand. "I dare you to play stupid." Lauren gulps largely and Normani felt it travel down her larynx, and dimly snorts through her nose. "The tension, you know what I'm talking about."
"How am I making things hard for you..." taking a quick pause, she huskily whisper, "Ms. Hamilton?"
"You have pretty red lips," the woman complimented, then falsely smile, "They remind me of cherries. I bet they would feel good gliding across my skin." The sable woman gets the last say, and green-eyed girl let her, too busy on not trying to dwell on the sight she put in her head. "I'm sure you agree. Don't you?"
"I'm sure you couldn't agree more than I could. You're the one who wants to fuck me," she admits with lolled eyes, and the night, brown eyes darken if even possible then the palm on her neck tightens. "Still making things hard, Ms. Hamilton?"
"Indeed you are," she plainly replied, feeling the hard surface of Lauren's knee, tracing up her thigh. Her ears pop once she felt it rub against the hardly bulge.
"Yeah? And what are you going to do about it?"
"Not much," the tight hold release from Lauren's neck, and the cuban waits; even though she has an idea of what she is going to say, "Especially without consent."
"I am practically giving you consent!" Lauren poorly shriek, dropping her leg down, but the sentence is not crazy enough for her to remove her chest off of the business woman. "What else do you need?!" she fervently exhales, obviously disgruntled.
"I'm glad we're on the same page," she spoke, "But I have a contract, just need your signature on it."
"Contract to have sex with me?" she raise an eyebrow, as the other woman snorts through her nose for the umpteeth time today, and face the mirror.
"Not just any ordinary sex Lauren," she says and took a seat after removing her clothes; laying them over the rim of the chair, "I'm highly aggressive."
"Most people are," she tries to reason, yet, prying to get the other woman to crack. "What's the difference between you and other aggressive people?" she ask in bashfulness, slipping in her bottom lip afterwards.
"Action are better than words, aren't they?" her sleazy smirk doesn't show empathy, spreading her legs apart while slumping back into the chair. "And I would love to show you since the feeling is mutual," but not with-out consent, Lauren' bodily sink, "I'm tired of hearing it, too Lauren. But I will not set myself up. I want to have approval for the other things I want to do to you. But I have to ask...what made you change?"
"I'm not one to play oblivious for too long."
"I adore womens who know what they want," licking her lip, she exhales, "Perhaps, after the movie, I could have you look over the contract. To see if this is really what you want, and desire as well," standing to her feet, she return over to Lauren, towering over her.
"I hope you'll like what you see," she murmurs and the rest of the time in the dressing room went by in a blur.
•¥•
ᴸᴬᵁᴿᴱᴺ
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I toss and turn in my sleep like a flipping coin, high in the air. It feels like rain dissolving on my skin and the hotness isn't making it any better. That dream felt so surreal. My panting has quicken and my heart beat-boxing against my ribcage. The first thing I do when my eyes opened is spot the contract that seems miles away, when in reality, it's only a few inches next to me.
Once I touched it, my eyes scan over the items that excites me the most: 𝐁𝐮𝐭𝐭 𝐏𝐥𝐮𝐠𝐬, 𝐏𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐬, 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐬, 𝐁𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐬, 𝐆𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠. In all honesty, I would've never thought of things like this, but now–with Normani–it seems fascinating. Falling back onto my pillow, I throw away the growing shame, feeling my hand slip into my panties. The contract weave through the crack of my hand and onto the floor while my lower back arch at the gentle touch. My chest rises as my head puncture the pillow; skipping the foreplay and sliding my two fingers into me. I wildly gasp at the stretching, pumping in and out.
Humming for composure didn't exactly help, but it kept my mouth steeled shut. Normani room is right across from mines and I'm sure she would hear me.
"I can't–it's not fucking working!" I stress, wanting to pull my hair out. I quickly sat up from the bed. The cover wrinkle while I stand to my feet. I want to cry at how foiled I am. Time passes and before I knew it, I'd came up with an idea and ended up standing in front of Ms. Hamilton door. My stomach does that thing again as I stood there in my t-shirt and damp panties. Someone is going to spot you if you don't open her door, I criticize in my head and rolled my eyes. I use the card she gave me since day one. Told me I could use for emergency–and in my case, it seems like one.
She can't deny me any farther than she has, we're both drawn to each other. In the middle of her room, the bathroom light click, and the knob twist whilst my eyes flutter at the sight of just the door. Chills tickle me watching the door swing open and she steps out, immediately noticing me. "Something wrong?"
"I read the contract," Is what I say instead answering the question. I take in a breath hearing one of the mini step creak. "I will sign it–if...if you can give me what I want in exchange. And don't try to switch your words around and tell me you don't want me, because I know you do. Other wise you wouldn't have picked me."
"You don't know anything. But I give you credit for your assumption. I could have any other girl here with me, instead of you. What make you think I take that much interest in you?"
"...because they're not your type."
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