Delivering the Virgin(8)

And Tanya nodded.

"Absolutely hon, I'm saving that wine for you. Kay, gotta get this ass  back to work before Saunders swings by and beats me. Toodle-oo!" she  sang with a wave and a wink, and just like that, my co-worker  disappeared into the maze of cubes, swallowed up by the labyrinth.

I sighed before swinging back around to stare at my monitor again, my  head rushing with my thoughts. Because there was no divorce stuff to  take care of, no papers to sign, no loose threads to tie up. That shit  was done, and for the better because Gary was an afterthought now, a  nobody from my past. Instead, my thoughts were consumed with Tucker, his  big body, his laugh, the way his blue eyes took me in, my every curve,  my every eager, hungry breath. The delivery man was curious about me,  had asked me a lot of questions about myself and shamefully, I'd asked  almost none about him, it'd been a one-sided conversation.         

     



 

But it was easy enough to remedy. After all, I just had to place another  order with NYC Concierge and my delivery man would show up like magic.  My body heated up just thinking about it, my mouth going dry, my cunt  beginning to moisten. Oh god, oh god. I was supposed to be working,  supposed to be looking over papers, plotting strategy, doing business  things, but all I could think about was touching, savoring, tasting my  delivery man's package  …  all over again.





CHAPTER NINE


Laurie




I flipped open my laptop at home and clicked to NYC Concierge's page.  Hmmm, what to get today? Unconsciously, I licked my lips, my body  heating up a thousand degrees, my mind already whirling with  anticipation of the fun times ahead.

Because I knew how concierge services worked. You put in an order and  then a messenger gathers your purchases and makes the delivery. But NYC  Concierge had gone one better and part of their white glove "elite"  service was that you could request a particular messenger for your  delivery. In this case, of course I was looking for Tucker.

I clicked over to the "About Us" portion of the web page and I scrolled  down the list of names. My eyes lit up upon the word "TUCKER" in all  caps, and when I clicked on the link, sure enough, a photo of the big  man popped up, his face half-turned away, partially hidden in shadow.

But it was definitely my illicit lover. I could tell by the strong  profile, the straight nose and mobile lips, the square jaw apparent even  in the slightly blurry image. Oh yeah, that was my man and I clicked on  his picture with relish.

Bingo! The site said that Tucker was "currently available" and all I had  to do was place an order. I pursed my lips, thinking. What did I need?  Well, everything come to think of it. I was still sitting in an unpacked  apartment, piles of stuff heaped around me, half the boxes still taped  shut. I'd dug around to find some work clothes so that I could show up  for my job, but pretty much everything else was still boxed up.

So my fingers skimmed over the keys, impatiently strumming when suddenly  inspiration struck. I needed laundry detergent. I hadn't been able to  locate any despite pawing through mounds of stuff and had given up  finally, spending the evening on my soiled sheets. Or more accurately,  the sheets that Tucker and I had covered with our love stains. The  cotton was saturated with our sex smells and I'd rolled around in them  naked, breathing in the scent of the big man, his woodsy, masculine  musk, pretending that he was there with me still. Okay, you got me, I  did more than that. I pressed my nose to his semen stain, the circle of  dried cum and inhaled deeply while frigging my cunt, pretending it was  Tucker's fingers touching my plush lips. And I came all over again, my  snatch creaming wetly as I shrieked, legs scissoring wildly on the bed,  losing it as my pussy pulsed and spasmed, driving me to the wildest  heights. Yeah, Tucker did that to me. I'd come all over again just from  smelling his semen because I'm a dirty, nasty girl.

But I only wanted more now. So I punched in the name of a laundry  detergent, just a regular brand that you could pick up at the local  bodega and pressed "Checkout." My computer whirred and then the words  "Delivery Accepted" popped up, with a countdown ticker. Oh my god!  Tucker was going to be here in fifteen minutes, that was barely enough  time to get ready.

I hurried out of my work clothes, pulling off the shapeless blouse and  struggling out of the tweed wool skirt. Yeah, I've put on some weight  recently with the divorce and ballooned a little, all my clothes are a  little tight now. Unfortunately, a new wardrobe wasn't in the cards,  that would cost hundreds, if not thousands of dollars, and I didn't have  any money to spare. Fuck. I was going to have to watch my diet to make  sure I had stuff to wear. Hate that.

But my cheeks flushed because Tucker had liked my curves, devoured them  like candy yesterday. Oh yeah, he hadn't minded that there were handfuls  of flesh spilling everywhere, my thighs dimpled and sweet, my ass huge  and bountiful. And you know what? There was still one item of clothing  that still fit me perfectly. Shoes. Oh yeah, even with the added fifteen  pounds or so, my sexy heels were still perfect, elongating my legs, the  four inch stilettos making me feel powerful and desirable.         

     



 

So I slipped on a pair of red peep-toe pumps, real fuck-me shoes if you  saw them, patent leather and sky high. Pursing my lips, I stared at the  mountains of boxes before me again, half-heartedly sifting through a  pile of boring work clothes, stained jeans and flannels, and an armful  of raggedy lingerie. I didn't want to wear it, truth be told. A lot of  the clothes were uninspiring, all of it musty-smelling from being packed  away, most of it worse for the wear, grimy and wrinkled.

But oh wait, there was something that would be perfect. I peered into a  monster sized box, plunging my arm into the darkness and managed to snag  a hip-length faux fur jacket in black. Yep, no wrinkles on this and the  fur was really soft, even a little oily, just like the real thing.  There's no way I'd ever buy real fur even if I could afford it, but I'd  come upon this gem at a consignment shop and forked over the two hundred  dollars because it was sassy and hugged my curves just so.

I modeled it in the floor length mirror propped against the wall. Oh  yeah, you could see my little cunt poking out just below the hem, my  smooth shaved lips already glistening with desire, my meaty thighs thick  and strong. And with the red peep-toes, all I needed now was a slick of  red lipstick and I was ready to go. Pulling out a tube of Revlon's  Vampiress, I outlined my lips, pressing them together to saturate the  color, then slowly licked them for a glossy, glistening effect. Perfect.  I was a seductress waiting for my man, a vixen in heat.

But as I turned this way and that in the mirror, waves of doubt began  welling up inside. What was I doing? Was I, Laurie Holmes, a regular  office worker, really doing this? Was I really sexing it up, wearing  nothing but a fur coat and high heels to seduce my delivery man?  Suddenly I felt unsure of myself, really insecure. Maybe my curves were  too much, maybe I was coming on too strong, too eager, and it would  drive Tucker away, turn him off in disgust

But then I steadied myself. Down girl, I calmed myself, that's not it.  It's the divorce that's doing this to you, making your emotions rush  around, making you play games in your head. Get a grip, you'll be fine.

Besides, it was too late for second thoughts because a knock rang out suddenly.

"Ms. Holmes," came the deep voice. "Delivery."

And taking a deep breath, steadying my nerves, I made my way to the  door, pressing my eye against the peephole. Oh god, he was here and my  heart began racing immediately. Tall, broad, imposing, Tucker had his  cap pulled low but that did nothing to disguise his strong jaw and  mobile mouth. And oh god, where that mouth had been yesterday made me  shiver and tremble all over again, my cunt moistening immediately,  gushing with sweet juices. Suddenly my doubts were forgotten, my body on  high just from a glimpse of the man through the fisheye peephole.

So I unlocked the door, peering out from behind the wooden frame and shot him a sweet smile.

"Hi big guy," I said shyly. "Thanks so much. Do you have my package?"

His eyebrows raised at my contorted position, only my head and neck visible, craning like a goose.

"Sure," he growled, gesturing to the box on the floor. But he held an  electronic tracker as well. "But you'll have to sign for it."

This was like a re-play of yesterday. Except this time I was prepared.  Glancing quickly around the landing to make sure no one was there, no  sounds of approaching footsteps or distant voices, I made my move.

Sashaying out from behind the door, I posed provocatively before opening  the coat, my boobies bare, my cunt wet, clad only in my high heels.

"Hey big boy," I purred. "Just wait a minute while I get a pen. You wanna help me look for one?"