He lightly kissed the back of my neck. “You just got your first ‘A.’ Are you feeling more relaxed?”#p#分页标题#e#
“Yes,” I said breathily. Trust me, relaxed was the last word I’d use to describe how I felt. Every nerve ending in my body was buzzing with anticipation.
“Stand up. I’m going to undress you.”
“What if someone comes in?” I stammered.
“Don’t worry, the door’s locked. Now please stand up.”
I rose to my feet, my legs unsteady. The first thing to go was my suit jacket. So much for power dressing. He was rendering me powerless.
“Ah! Chanel! Size 6. With those tits of yours, I had you pegged for an 8. Very impressive.”
I didn’t flinch or say a word as he tore off my blouse and yanked down my skirt. In a few short heated breaths, I was stripped down to my ivory lace lingerie and my jet black beads. And the lace-trimmed silk stockings and Louboutin heels. A chill swept over me.
“Ah, Gloria. So apropos, you would wear white lace to celebrate our union . Like a bride.” He nuzzled the sensitive area between my shoulder blade and neck and played with my bra strap, his fingers grazing my scar. My pounding heart struggled to stay calm.
“You know, the type of lingerie a woman wears provides an outer expression of her inner sexuality.”
Madame Paulette had once told me more or less the same thing.
He continued. “And I’d say, Ms. Long, judging by the underwear you have on, you’re bottling up a lot of sexual energy. I’m going to unleash that.”
Bottling? I was overflowing with lust. I could actually hear bottle caps popping as he bit open the back clasp of my bra, his teeth grazing my sensitive flesh. He slid it off me and let it fall to my feet. Exposed, my breasts quivered. With a concomitant moan, his soft hands cupped my full mounds and warmed them. He squeezed them together and massaged them. Heat and moisture rushed to my core as my nipples peeked beneath his palms.
He breathed into my ear. “It’ll be hard to find someone as beautiful and sensuous as you to cast in the new Gloria’s Secret campaign.”
“I thought you loved a challenge,” I said, squeezing out the words.
“I do,” he said, flutter kissing every part of me.
He flipped me around and lifted me onto the conference room table. I could feel the hardness of the wood beneath my buttocks.
“Lie down, Gloria.”
I did as told, stretching myself across the length of the table. My chest rose and fell, my breasts still quivering.
I felt him tug at my red-soled stilettos. “Do you know what these shoes are?”
“They’re Louboutins,” I stammered. And they cost a fucking fortune.
“They’re Louboutins to you. But I call them ‘fuck me’ shoes. That’s why women wear them.”
He was right. The scantily clad models in our Gloria’s Secret catalogue only wore the highest of high heels. I shivered as he slipped them off, one by one, and heard them tumble to the floor.
He clasped my feet in his large, warm hands. His thumbs dug into my silk sheathed arches, sending a jolt straight to my sex.
“You have beautiful feet. Surprisingly small and dainty despite your stature,” he purred as he rubbed his thumbs up and down my inner soles.
“Thank you,” I murmured, too caught up with the erotic foot massage to say more. Shoe salesmen were always surprised that I wore a size 6.5AA despite my five foot seven inch height and hearty bone structure.
His thumbs continued making deep circles, sending yet another rush of toe-curling tingles to my core. A moan escaped my throat.
“You like having your feet massaged, don’t you?”
I was too enraptured to say a word. I merely nodded.
“Do you know why?”
“Why?” I spluttered.
“Because it releases you. Did you know that the nerves of the feet are connected to various parts of the body? Reflexologists believe that you can turn a woman on with just a foot massage. Even make her come.”
He definitely knew what turned on women. At least me. From aphrodisiacs to erogenous zones.
He applied pressure again to that particularly sensitive part of my soles. “ Tell me. Where do you feel that?” He pressed deeper.
Oh my God! My core was throbbing. And I could feel wetness pooling along the folds. I swear if he continued with this erotic foot massage, I was going to come.
“Answer me, Gloria.”
“Between my legs,” I moaned.
“Your pussy?”
I nodded.
“Say it, Gloria. ‘My pussy.’”
“My pussy,” I muttered.
“Good, Gloria. Another ‘A’ for you.” Ending the foot massage with a sensuous kiss on each sole, he unhooked my garters, one by one. My flesh tingled as I felt him peel off my stockings, sensually sliding them down my legs. With a whoosh, the lace garter came off next and then my bikinis.