The Cream Coat
By Maximilian Cummings
“What on earth possessed me not to put on any clothes this morning?” Gemma thought to herself as she sat on the 8:13 train to London.
To the gentleman sitting opposite her reading his newspaper there was nothing amiss. He had looked up from his newspaper as she had sat down. Naturally he had admired the pretty girl. He saw her face but could only imagine the curves beneath her cream macintosh. Glancing down he could see polished black boots beneath her knees. His observant eye noted her knees were bare, no tights or...stockings. His thoughts idly drifted towards garter belts and stocking tops before returning to yesterday’s stock market prices.
The reality was that there were no garter belts, no stockings, in fact no nothing. Underneath her ‘mac’ Gemma was completely naked. She kept her macintosh buttoned right up and her knees tightly together. She was worried, puzzled and confused, she could not think how she had forgotten to dress that morning. It was something she always did, people always did. What would she do when she got to work? She had to see Mr Bolton-Prosser first thing. He had been cross with her yesterday. Mr Bolton-Prosser was the Managing Director of the company where she worked. He was a big man, a bit like a bear, with rather long black but greying hair, an enormous beard and big hands. She always noticed those hands, how hairy their backs were, how carefully his nails were manicured. She shuddered. They worried her. He frightened her.
Yesterday she had made a mistake. She had been hurrying from a meeting and had collided with Mr Bolton-Prosser in the corridor making him drop the cup and saucer he was carrying, the china shattering as it hit the polished laminate floor, the shards dancing away across the floor..
He had stopped and taken her to one side and brought his face close to her. He had looked closely into her eyes and said, “Miss Thomson you should not have done that.” She had had no option but to return his stare and stammer her apology. He had spoken to her again but the more she’d looked at him the more she found she couldn’t look away, couldn’t move, couldn’t get away from his gaze, found herself lost in the depth of his eyes.
She remembered coming to on the floor. She had fainted and Mr Bolton-Prosser’s secretary, Jasmine, had been leaning over her, “Are you alright Gemma, Gemma?” She had got to her feet. Mr Bolton-Prosser was not there.
“I, I must have fainted.”
“Yes, you must have, let me help you to the First Aid Room.”
She had recovered and finished the day as normal. Only now she was on the morning train without her clothes and knowing she was required in Mr Bolton-Prosser’s office at 9am precisely. That was not normal.
David Miers had not broken any cups but he too had an appointment with Mr Bolton-Prosser. He was not naked under his overcoat but had a funny uneasy feeling about the meeting. He had not done anything wrong, as such: indeed he was one of Mr Bolton-Prosser’s highest performers, always on the ‘phone, always doing business. Nonetheless, the day before, Mr Bolton-Prosser had looked at him in a disapproving way and asked him to present himself at his office at 9am the next day.
Gemma walked out of the station into a cold blustery day. The wind whipped around her, tugging at her coat. She was acutely conscious how potentially undressed she was. It was quite a long cream coat she had on. A macintosh really in the trench coat style by ‘Burberry’. You could easily see it was ‘Burberry’ by the lining but Gemma certainly did not have it open so that anyone could see: a lot more than just the lining would have been visible had it been unbuttoned! It had a wide belt in belt loops with a leather covered buckle. The belt was tight around her emphasising the swell of her hips. The coat was quite long but vented at the back and Gemma was quite tall. The wind tugged at the vent. She was sure, going up the pedestrian bridge over the railway, the vent had pulled open enough at the back for the man coming up behind her to see more than he should have done—her bottom. Certainly he had given her a ‘look’ and smiled a lot. She was scared the wind would pull the coat up now and she tried to keep her hands to her sides to hold it down. The wind was biting and blew where she was not used to it blowing, right up her coat and to her most intimate areas unprotected by silk, cotton or, indeed, anything. Why had she forgotten her clothes?
David sat at his usual table in ‘Starbucks’ sipping his early morning Cappuccino, making calls, wondering what Mr Bolton-Prosser would have to say. Gazing out of the window he saw Gemma walk past in her cream macintosh, belt drawn tightly round her waist. He caught a glimpse of knee above her shiny black boots. His eyes followed her. David had often watched her at the office, had spoken to her once or twice. Out of his league of course, too good looking to notice him, certainly would never go out with him. He had no idea at this moment how well he would “know” her by the end of the day.
Gemma caught her reflection in ‘Starbucks’ window. She looked good in her cream macintosh and boots, that made her feel a bit more confident but how was she going to keep her ‘mac’ on all day? She stopped, turned and walked back. It was cold, she was cold, she fancied a Latte to warm her up. She went to sit by the window, knees tightly together, with her mug. She did not see David looking at her before getting up to leave.
Mr Bolton-Prosser was at his desk when Jasmine, his secretary, announced David’s arrival. He motioned David to sit in an armchair and came round to sit opposite him. He talked about how pleased he was with David’s work, how well he was doing with the company. There was just one thing wrong. David was scruffy, his shirt was frayed, his tie old and a bit stained and his suit was crumpled and desperately in need of cleaning and pressing. Mr Bolton-Prosser droned on about the importance of young men, and women, looking smart, looking their best. David was struck by Mr Bolton-Prosser’s gaze, how his eyes seemed to draw him in, how very compelling his gaze was, how deep set.... He slumped forward apparently asleep.
Gemma took her last sip of her creamy Latte. She felt better now. She looked at her watch, it was five to nine. She shot to her feet, she had stayed too long in ‘Starbucks’ and, unless she hurried, she would be late for her meeting with Mr Bolton-Prosser! She raced up the pavement towards the office building, her coat swishing from side to side. Normally she would have felt her nylon clad legs rubbing smoothly against each other as she ran but today it was just the rather cold bare flesh of her thighs. Flashing her security pass she sped past the front desk and into the lift. No time for a visit to the “Ladies” as she would have liked to have done, she was feeling a little uncomfortable following her cold journey and the Latte, but there was no time for that. This was a mistake, as she was soon to find out. Gemma burst out of the lift on the top floor. Jasmine was waiting.
“Ah Gemma, on time. Mr Bolton-Prosser cannot abide lateness, shall I take your coat?”
“Good morning Jasmine, no I, er, am rather cold this morning. I think I’ll leave it on.”
Jasmine opened the door and announced, “Miss Thomson to see you, Mr Bolton-Prosser.”
Gemma went in, Jasmine followed. Mr Bolton-Prosser rose from his desk.
“Good morning Miss Thomson. So pleased to see you, so punctual. Jasmine take her coat please.”
“No, I’m alright with it on,” said Gemma in a panic.
“Come Miss Thomson you cannot wear your outdoorwear in here. That would not be right, would it Mr Miers?”
Gemma had not noticed David sitting across the room, he had been so still but he came to life.
“No Mr Bolton-Prosser I’m sure it would not.”
Mr Bolton-Prosser’s attention switched, to Gemma’s relief, to David.
“Oh Mr Miers before Jasmine takes Miss Thomson’s coat could you give her your suit to her to have it dry cleaned. It is too crumpled, as I said, and we want you looking smart now”
David took off his jacket handed it to Jasmine and then, with apparent unconcern and to Gemma’s surprise, unlaced his shoes and took off his trousers.
“I think that shirt and tie have seen better days as well. You’d better take everything off, Mr Miers, and I’ll get Jasmine to pop out and get you some new apparel at lunch time.”
Gemma stared in disbelief as David unknotted his tie, undid the buttons of his shirt and pulled it over his head. Her eyes nearly popped out of her head as he reached down, removed his socks and then pulled his pants down and off and handed the remaining clothes to Jasmine. He stood there as if nothing was amiss, completely naked. Gemma could not understand what was going on at all.
Her attention returned with a start to Mr Bolton-Prosser when he said, “Now Miss Thomson your coat please!”
Reluctantly, but without real resistance, Gemma undid the belt of her cream coat. One by one she undid the buttons. As her hand descended the valley between her breasts became visible to Mr Bolton-Prosser, then, as the buttons joining the two sides of the coat were completely undone, the two sides swung apart to reveal, between her thighs, a vee of tight fair curls. Mr Bolton-Prosser smiled.
Gemma, blushing furiously, removed her coat, folded it and handed it to Jasmine who seemed completely unconcerned, as if it was normal for junior staff to be standing naked in Mr Bolton-Prosser’s office. As Gemma’s coat came off David gawped, he could not believe it, there was Gemma Thomson, whom he had been fantasising about only minutes before in ‘Starbucks’, standing virtually naked feet from him, naked but for her knee high black boots. He took in her large breasts with their upwards pointing nipples, her flat stomach, ample hips, generous bush of fair curls and her slim thighs. She looked even better than he had imagined.
“That’s better, I’m sure you feel more comfortable and relaxed now, Miss Thomson.” Mr Bolton-Prosser proceeded to explain at length the importance of taking care when hurrying down corridors. Gemma listened carefully.
“Now today I want you to work over there,” Mr Bolton-Prosser indicated a desk to the side of the room, “and you, Mr Miers, by the window.” Gemma sat down conscious of her bare bottom on the seat. She logged on and settled into her usual work routine. She tried not to think about sitting naked in a room with two men able to watch her and see her nudity. It was not easy. Jasmine brought her a mug of coffee.
It was about half an hour later that Mr Bolton-Prosser looked up to find Gemma standing before him with her hands folded to her front trying to be modest and hide her sex, “Yes?”
“Might I be excused please?”
“Pardon?”
“I need to visit the ‘Ladies’ you see.”
“Well you can hardly go like that, can you?” he said unhelpfully.
Gemma tried again, “Could Jasmine bring my coat, please?”
Mr Bolton-Prosser called Jasmine in.
“I don’t really think that will be necessary. I want you to stay here today. Let me see, Jasmine, Miss Thomson needs to urinate, could you help her please?”
Jasmine went to a cupboard and took out a tall glass flower vase and brought it over to Gemma.
Gemma looked horrified.
“There you are, just the thing, much simpler. Come on girl, legs apart a bit so Jasmine can position the vase.” Gemma numbly did as she was told, almost without thinking. She moved one foot to the right separating her thighs. Jasmine knelt and brought the vase up and between Gemma’s thighs so the rim touched either side. Mr Bolton-Prosser came closer and bent to look.
“Come on, Miss Thomson, you’re not doing anything.”
“I can’t, not with everyone watching.” But this was not true. Gemma was bursting. She was desperate to go and her wriggling hips betrayed this.
“Come on I can see you need to urinate. Don’t stay uncomfortable, let yourself go. Jasmine will help.”
Again to Gemma’s surprise and horror Jasmine’s slim fingers slipped up her thigh from the vase and began to stroke her just where she was trying to hold back from letting go. The stroking had the necessary effect. She was unable to stop herself and a golden stream cascaded from her and splashed into the vase. Having started, Gemma could not stop. She kept going for an embarrassingly long time conscious of Mr Bolton-Prosser’s eyes inches from her sex, Jasmine smiling encouragingly at her and, almost worse of all, David had risen from his desk and was watching open mouthed.
Her flow slowed to a trickle. Jasmine delicately dabbed her dry with a tissue.
“Better?” said Mr Bolton-Prosser straightening and returning to his desk. He looked across at David. A smile flicked across his face. “Mr Miers do you need to go as well? I’m sure you do. Miss Thomson, could you fetch another vase?”
In a daze Gemma did as she was bid. She walked across the office and selected a fresh vase from the cabinet. David’s mobile rang and he picked it up from his desk and answered it.
“Mr Miers seems busy Gemma, could you help him please. You have held a penis before?”
“Yesss, but I...”
“Good well take it in hand and point it in the vase, we don’t want any spilt on the carpet any more than we want spilt crockery, do we Miss Thomson?”
Gemma found herself taking the vase over to David. She walked slowly. She had tried not to take much of a look at him naked up until now. But now she had no choice, she had not only to look at him but look closely at his sexual organ and.... hold it. She gulped, why did she have to do this, why couldn’t she just leave?
With one hand she held out the vase, with the other she took hold of David’s penis. It was reassuringly flaccid. She pointed it into the vase. David had been concentrating on his ‘phone call and had not seen Gemma approaching. The touch of her hand made him wide eyed with astonishment.
“Pull back the foreskin Miss Thompson,” explained Mr Bolton-Prosser.
David needed to go and despite the unfamiliar hand and grasp began to fill the vase. Gemma could feel the rush, the vibration of urine through David’s urethra, she held onto his penis finding it steadily more of an effort to direct it downwards. To her dismay, she realised it was getting bigger, David was starting to erect! David was equally conscious of this, he tried to think of other things than the pretty naked girl holding his cock. It was not easy, he tried to concentrate on his ‘phone call..
David finished. Gemma stood unsure of what to do next.
“Shake it,” boomed Mr Bolton-Prosser, “surely you know about men, Miss Thomson. Haven’t you had boyfriends?”
Gemma did as she was told but having his cock vigorously shaken by Gemma did not do David any good at all. His cock continued its rise to tumescence. Gemma found she was holding David’s fully erect cock that jutted out a good seven inches from his thighs. Jasmine took the vase.
“Well I see you have the right touch there, Miss Thomson! Well, do you have boyfriends? Do you know about penises?”
Gemma let go of David’s cock and answered that she had indeed had boyfriends and did know what penises were and did.
“So, Miss Thomson, you are well versed in their uses and what they do. Mr Miers there has a problem. You have caused him to erect. I think you need to help him subside. You need to give him some relief. I wonder, do you fellate your boyfriends?”
“Er, I don’t know, Mr Bolton-Prosser.”
Jasmine whispered to Gemma, “He means do you suck them off?”
“Oh I see, well, no. I don’t like to do that.”
“Really, how unfortunate, such an important skill. Well I think you had better have some practice, some basic training. Miss Thomson could you please kneel in front of Mr Miers.”
Gemma found herself complying. David, still on the phone, but actually trying to finish the conversation as quickly as possible, looked down in complete disbelief. Things seemed to be getting better and better. There before him, inches from the end of his erect cock were the beautiful slightly open lips of Gemma Thomson. This could not really be happening. His penis bounced in anticipation.
Gemma looked at David’s cock jutting towards her, it was inches away, she saw the bounce as it jerked briefly upwards before its eye came down again and seemed to be looking at her. Mr Bolton-Prosser surely would not make her take that in her mouth. She had never done that. Worse still he surely wasn’t going to let David come, expel his semen into her mouth?
“Miss Thomson. I am sure I can get Jasmine to arrange lessons for you. She is very experienced in such matters but let’s have a little basic practice now as we have a suitable subject. Now come on take the knob of Mr Miers’ penis in your mouth. No hands at this stage please.”
Gemma wanted to say “No,” to get up off her knees and leave. But Jasmine had taken her cream coat away, she was trapped. Before she could think again about getting up she found herself involuntarily leaning a little forward and her mouth opening and coming closer to David’s waiting penis. It slipped past her lips almost without her realising. David managed to stumble out a last few sentences and finish his call. He gasped and felt his knees weaken. This was what he had daydreamed so often but, now, Gemma really was sucking him, not as he had fantasised with just her blouse undone and breasts revealed but kneeling completely naked dressed just in black knee length very shiny black boots.
“Very good, my girl, that’s the idea. Now don’t suck hard but swirl your tongue slowly around. Use your tongue.”
Mr Bolton-Prosser got up from his desk and came round to get a closer look and to ensure Gemma was following his instructions correctly.
Gemma was surprised by what had happened. She had not intended to take David in, it had just seemed to happen as if she was under some compulsion, as if she had to do what Mr Bolton-Prosser told her. Her tongue began moving almost by itself, without Gemma’s conscious command. She glanced up at David who was staring down at her. He smiled and nodded encouragingly as her tongue moved around the sensitive underside of his cockhead.
“Take it in further, see how much you can take.” Mr Bolton-Prosser’s words were not welcome to Gemma but nonetheless she began to slide her lips towards David allowing him further into her mouth. David watched his cock slowly disappearing until only about two inches remained. Gemma slid back up his cock and let it drop from her mouth.
“I don’t like...”
“You’re doing well Miss Thomson, come on now, let Mr Miers slide his penis backwards and forwards between you lips. Wet your lips now. Let him pretend it is your vagina. We may try some practice with that later today. We will have to see.”
Gemma’s tongue flicked out and wet her lips. To David it was a very erotic sight, without asking he took hold of his penis, placed the head on Gemma’s lips and pushed. The purple dome parted her lips as it slipped in. David began to rhythmically push his penis in and out. Gemma’s tongue moved against him. The resistance of her soft lips coupled with the butterfly caresses of Gemma’s tongue brought David close to climax. He had, after all, been erect quite often already that morning just watching Gemma.
“Mr Miers,” said Mr Bolton-Prosser, “Miss Thomson is a little unsure what to do and what will happen so you are not to come unexpectedly, without giving her due warning. I think it would be best if she was well prepared when she receives your semen.”
Gemma became a little annoyed at this presumption about her innocence. She slid David’s cock from her mouth. It hung before her, wet from her mouth, waiting.
“I do know what happens when a boy comes, I’ve done it by hand before.”
“Well then you are not as innocent as you make out, Miss Thomson. But never in your mouth? What a waste. You have permitted boys to come on your hands. Have you let them ejaculate over your stomach, perhaps even your breasts?” Mr Bolton-Prosser seemed to expect an answer.
“I, I think that is my own affair.”
Mr Bolton-Prosser snorted, “I hardly think so, young lady, not now.”
Gemma had no answer and re-applied her lips to David who resumed his slow piston action: but not for long. He stopped his movement, just in time. For a second he thought he had over shot the mark but, no, he was safe from Mr Bolton-Prosser’s anger.
“I’m ready, Sir, when required.”
Mr Bolton-Prosser smiled, “Thank you. Are you ready Miss Thomson?”
“I don’t know. This isn’t my sort of thing.”
“I know you’ll like it. You will enjoy oral intercourse. I am sure you will find it pleasurable.”
Gemma was surprised to find that, after all, she was quite liking the experience. David did have a nice cock, even if he was, well, not over attractive. She thought it would be a new experience, interesting to see what semen tasted like.
“Now, Miss Thomson. Mr Miers is all charged up ready to go. He will stand still and let you pull the trigger! Just slip your lips around him, move gently to and fro, and use your tongue.”
Gemma did as she was told. Once more her lips slipped over David’s smooth dome, her tongue lapped at his cock. David reached down and pulled her hair gently back from her face. He wanted to watch her face as he came. No sooner had he done this than he felt his scrotum tighten, he was about to come.
David began to pulse into Gemma’s mouth. Gemma did not retreat, her eyes closed and, again to her surprise, she found she was enjoying the feel of the viscous, salty fluid jetting into her mouth.
“Swallow,” said Mr Bolton-Prosser. Gemma obeyed.
David came out of a daze to find his phone was ringing again. Automatically he answered it as Gemma let his cock fall from her lips.
“Well done, Miss Thomson,” said Mr Bolton-Prosser, “Look, you’ve missed that last drop, be a good girl and...”
Gemma saw a bead of semen forming on the end of David’s cock, she sucked the head back into her mouth.
David looked down and saw Gemma, with his cock once more in her mouth, looking up at him. “What a picture,” he thought, “if I only had a camera.” But he had! He remembered his ‘phone had a camera and just in time he took a picture.
Gemma stood, a trifle unsteadily, her tongue slid across her lips. She looked at David talking away on the ‘phone. “What is happening to me?” she thought.
Mr Bolton-Prosser was pleased, he smiled broadly. “Well I must go to a luncheon appointment, I will see you later. Jasmine will bring you some sandwiches.”
When Mr Bolton-Prosser returned, Gemma and David were working at their desks. He smiled and called to Gemma, “Come and stand here Miss Thomson so I can see you.”
Gemma was not too sure about being looked at, she wished she could put her cream coat on again. Mr Bolton-Prosser called Jasmine in. They both looked at Gemma. Mr Bolton-Prosser looked down at Gemma’s thighs and shook his head.
“What do you think, Jasmine, I think they have to go.” Jasmine nodded.
“Miss Thomson, I think it would be better if you were shaved, down below so to speak.” He did not elaborate why Gemma’s curls had to be removed.
“Jasmine please fetch the materials. Miss Thomson please lie down on my desk, yes over here, no there, like that, now draw your legs up and open your thighs, yes like that.”
Gemma may not have been sure a few moments ago about being looked at naked but now she was as exposed as could be. She was lying on her back on Mr Bolton-Prosser’s leather covered desk, her hips near the edge and her legs and knees bent so her feet rested on the edge of the desk with her thighs wide splayed. Her sex was open and fully illuminated by the light streaming in from the window. It would have been perfectly displayed to a window cleaner. As it was, the windows were not being cleaned but David at his desk by the window had an equally perfect view. Under the desk he began to rise.
Jasmine returned and came with Mr Bolton-Prosser round to stand looking down at Gemma’s sex. Jasmine had brought the necessary shaving materials. A pair of sharp hairdressing scissors, a new two blade razor and a tube of shaving gel.
“I don’t want to be shaved,” said Gemma in a small voice.
“Yes of course you do,” replied Mr Bolton-Prosser, “Jasmine please begin.”
With practised hands Jasmine began to cut off Gemma’s golden curls with the sharp scissors, one by one they dropped to the carpet. David stood up to get a better view forgetting that he was embarrassingly erect.
Jasmine was careful and thorough, shortening the hair to ensure the razor would slip easily over the remaining stubble. With the last snip Jasmine picked up the tube of shaving gel and squeezed a liberal amount onto her fingers. She then spread it slowly round Gemma’s mons veneris and down her labia major using soft delicate strokes, some of the slightly stingy gel slipped over the edge of the lips onto the delicate inner lips. Gemma sighed, she was beginning to get wet, Jasmine’s light touch was having an arousing effect on Gemma. She had not expected another women could do this to her. That morning she had not thought she would allow another women to do this to her.
Jasmine picked up the razor.
“Remember to draw the skin taut to get a really close shave,” said Mr Bolton-Prosser.
Jasmine worked slowly and with great care. She pulled Gemma’s skin as instructed and drew the razor across, shaving off the remaining stubble. The pulling and the rasp of the razor had quite an effect on Gemma. Her breathing quickened, the nipples hardened on her breasts and, as Jasmine noted, her labia swelled.
“There, finished,” said Jasmine, putting her equipment down. She bent and kissed Gemma right on her inner lips, right where the little nub of her clitoris was showing. Gemma gasped.
“Shall I do that again?” Jasmine did not wait for an answer and knelt between Gemma’s legs. Her little pink tongue showed between her lips before she lent forward and began to use it on Gemma in earnest.
“Ooh, no I don’t...”
“Miss Thomson there seems to be a lot you think you don’t do, yet you do when it comes to it. I am sure this is another of those things!”
David had come closer and was watching with rapt attention. The day just seemed to get better and better.
Gemma was wriggling on the desk and touching her own breasts in pleasure.
“I wonder, Jasmine, if we shouldn’t see if Miss Thomson is amenable to intercourse. Would you like that, Miss Thomson?”
Gemma was almost unable to resist but still said, “Mr Bolton-Prosser I don’t...”
“But you do, Miss Thomson, oh yes, you do indeed!” He turned to David, “I see you are ready, please insert yourself into Miss Thomson.”
David moved to the end of the desk, in front of him lay Gemma, spread with her knees up, booted feet on the desk, thighs akimbo and sex just level with the edge of the desk. A completely naked sex. David liked his girls au naturel but he did not deny the beauty and eroticism of Gemma’s bare shaved sex.
He inched forward but before he could take hold of his penis, to direct it into the waiting hole, Jasmine’s slim hand took control. Jasmine did not immediately allow him to enter but, grasping him firmly, rubbed the head of his penis up and down and then round and round Gemma’s sex exciting Gemma more and more. Slowing the movement, she lazily rubbed the head across Gemma’s inner lips and onto her throbbing clitoris. Finally she relented and aimed David and allowed him to push forward into Gemma. David had the pleasure not only of entering one pretty girl but also of having the insertion assisted by another equally beautiful girl. Something he had hardly expected when he had sat in ‘Starbucks’ that morning.
David slipped in, there was no resistance and, before he knew it, he was immersed, his black pubic hair tickling Gemma’s recently denuded mons. Gemma was close to coming. Jasmine had worked well. Despite the weirdness of having Mr Bolton-Prosser and Jasmine observing her wantonly spread across the desk, David inside her and all the other strange things of the day, she found herself really aroused and on the brink of orgasm.
David took her over the edge, her spasms were closely watched by both Jasmine and Mr Bolton-Prosser. They looked at each other and smiled. David too was ready. He looked at Mr Bolton-Prosser who nodded. Holding onto Gemma’s thighs, he made a few more thrusts and he was coming, spurting into her, living his private fantasy.
Mr Bolton-Prosser turned and returned to his desk. Gemma and David had not yet separated, unsure or perhaps not yet considering, what they were to do next.
“Well Mr Miers I think you did rather well there, and you too Miss Thomson. Yes, a fine effort. Perhaps you could now go back to your desk Mr Miers?”
There was a faint wet sucking sound and David turned away and towards his desk. Jasmine’s eyes following his wet cock and equally wet pubic hair before turning back to Gemma. She lent forward and looked appreciatively at Gemma’s recently vacated sex.
“Now, Miss Thomson, do please sit up”
Gemma sat up and looked at Mr Bolton-Prosser, Sir?”
“I think you should go home early after your excellent work here today. I think we can forget the cup and saucer. I am sure you will be more careful in future and won’t do that again.”
Jasmine brought Gemma her cream macintosh.
“Goodbye Miss Thomson,”
Gemma walked out of Mr Bolton-Prosser’s office minutes after her shattering orgasm. She got into the lift confused and conscious of David’s semen already starting to trickle down her bare thighs. She walked to the railway station, no less apprehensive about her nakedness under her coat than she had been that morning but with the added confusion of what had happened to her that day.
She was glad to get home, to be inside, to be able to lock her door and feel safe from her strange experiences of the day. She first brewed herself a cup of tea before she took off her coat and boots. She carried the mug into the bathroom and locked the door. She ran herself a deep bath and poured a generous amount of soothing lavender bath oil into the rushing water to relax her. She stepped into the bath. It was hot and she paused acclimatising herself to the water before she settled down into it. Gemma lay back and closed her eyes and tried to make sense of what had happened. She still could not understand why she had not got dressed that morning, why she had let Jasmine take her cream coat, why she had permitted David to put his cock in her mouth and then later to make love to her. She did not even like him very much and he must be six inches shorter than her. She could not make any sense of it. Still she would never again go out without her clothes and she would steer well clear of Mr Bolton-Prosser, though he had seemed to be pleased with her, and she would avoid ...David Miers. Would he leave her alone now, though how could she say she wasn’t interested after... Well she would worry about that tomorrow.
David left the office at his usual time. Eyes turned, no-one had seen him that smart before. Crisply pressed suit, double cuff shirt with cuff links, striped clean new tie, brightly polished shoes, not David Miers’ usual appearance at all! That evening he sat at home puzzled. What had he been doing all day? Was that really Gemma Thomson in that photo on his ‘phone? It looked like her but, there again, it also looked like his cock in her mouth. That surely could not be. But the angle of camera shot was certainly that of the person being ‘blown’ and it certainly looked like his cock and stomach. How had the photo got on his ‘phone? How had the photo occurred? What had happened today? He was very confused, perhaps he would remember tomorrow. He got up from his chair and began going through his wardrobe. He had a lot of clothes that really were past their best and needed throwing away. David did not like tatty clothes. He would certainly have to use his lunch hour the next day shopping for some new shirts and perhaps a suit.
Gemma watched the ‘Simpsons’ on television and then the ‘News’. She made herself some supper and phoned friends. She did not mention her strange day to them at all. About eight o’clock she decided to get ready for bed. She felt it was time and it would be good to snuggle down in bed with a good book, warm and safe from what had occurred. As she brushed her hair and put on her make-up she thought how foolish she had been that morning to go out without clothes; as she polished her black boots she thought about which book she would read in bed; as she pulled her boots on and did up her cream macintosh she debated whether to have a hot drink set right by her bed to drink whilst she read her book; as she got into her car she decided she would only read for half an hour before she put the light off. It was only as she drew into “The Avenue” that she realised she was not getting ready for bed at all. As she parked outside Number 15 she wondered what she was doing there? She had really meant to go to bed.
It was only when she went up the steps to the front door and rang the doorbell did she realise this was Mr Bolton-Prosser’s house.
An elderly man dressed in the clothes of a butler opened the door.
“Good evening Miss Thomson, I presume it is Miss Thomson? Mr Bolton-Prosser said to expect you at nine o’clock”
The hall clock began to chime. Gemma stepped in and the butler closed the door. She looked around. The house was Victorian with mahogany panelled doors, high ceilings, dado rails and tiled floor. Very traditional and comfortable. It was warm in the house. The butler stood expectantly Gemma felt uneasy.
“May I take your coat, Miss Thomson?”
Gemma undid the leather buckle and unbuttoned her coat. She slipped it off her shoulders. The butler draped it over his arm. He appeared not to notice that Gemma seemed to have forgotten to dress under her coat. She stood there naked in her black shiny boots.
“I’ll show you through to Mr Bolton-Prosser, he is in the study.”
The butler knocked on the door to the front room. He turned the knob and held the door open for Gemma. She stepped inside. The room was in semi-darkness with a coal fire burning merrily in the grate. Before the fire was a deep leather armchair and from it rose Mr Bolton-Prosser, his naked and surprisingly hairy body shining in the firelight.
His manner was one of welcome, he smiled warmly and asked if Gemma wished for a drink.
She was conscious of only one thing, Mr Bolton-Prosser was not only naked but between his hairy thighs he sported an enormous erection.
Behind Gemma, the butler silently closed the door.