The Siren. Tiffany Reisz

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СКАЧАТЬ handed him the glass, and for some reason he took a sip. It was whisky, unlike any he had tasted before. The smoothness betrayed its price tag.

      “You can leave or you can stay, “ she announced calmly. “But if you decide to stay, we will do this my way.”

      Richard nodded, aware of his heart pounding. “Oh, I’m game, love.”

      “I thought you might be. You’ve demonstrated a certain obsessive interest in me over the last few months, haven’t you, Richard?”

      “You’re a beautiful girl. Who wouldn’t be interested?”

      Melisa didn’t respond. Instead she reached down, removed her panties, brought them up and held them in front of his face.

      “Contrary to what you people write,” she said, “I do wear panties.”

      Then slowly—teasingly—she passed the shimmering material across his face, letting him breathe her scent. He could smell her pussy—an intoxicating mixture of musky sweetness. She dropped the panties onto his already hardened cock.

      “Put them on.”

      He hesitated and smiled a tad awkwardly. She met his gaze and arched her eyebrows with disapproval. He shrugged and slid them on. The material was tight and constrained his cock and balls. Melisa reached down and, with a long fingernail, began to stroke him.

      “Does this feel good?” she asked

      He could only nod, as if in a trance.

      She slowly slid a finger into her pussy, took it out and placed it against his lips.

      “Suck,” she commanded.

      He opened his mouth and she slid the finger in, then out and back in again, slowly fucking his mouth.

      “How do I taste, baby?”

      “So fucking good,” he purred.

      “I want to fuck you.”

      “Yes—let’s,” he offered, unable to contain a blissful smile. This was really what he had dreamed about all those hours hunting for her. He may have disparaged her name in public, calling her a little whore to coworkers, but there, with her in person, he realized he was completely smitten.

      “I don’t think you understand me. I want to fuck you.”

      It was obvious from his expression that he didn’t understand. She held up a leather harness with a medium-sized dildo attached to it. His eyes widened. She leaned in and kissed his mouth, her tongue invading his. At the same time her hand began to rub his cock through the panties. A warm moistness began to spread into the material. She lowered her head, slipped the panties aside and took his cock in her mouth, then withdrew and looked at him.

      “Well?” she asked.

      “Why the hell not?” he offered, his voice cracking slightly.

      She pulled the harness on and fastened it around her waist. Next she pushed his legs back toward his ears, slid the panties off , reached down and applied some lubricant to his ass.

      “Good boy,” she cooed, her eyes barely open. And then she entered him.

      “Fucking hell…” he muttered, wincing.

      “You’re tough, you can take it,” she teased, starting to build a rhythm. His cock was now hard and jutting out from his body, precome glistening in the candlelight. She clasped her hand around the base of it and began to slowly stroke.

      As absolutely surreal as the whole scene was, he couldn’t keep from studying her face and thinking how incredibly beautiful she was. More than the latex cock entering his ass, it was that fact that made him feel so uncharacteristically vulnerable.

      She opened her eyes and saw him staring up at her. Very casually, she reached out and slapped him across the face. The act and the resulting pain brought him back to the moment, and suddenly, he was about to come. She sensed it and leaned close.

      “Come for me” she whispered.

      And after a brief moment, he did what she asked. With a guttural noise, his body tightened and warm fluid pulsated from his cock onto her hand and his stomach. Then everything stopped, and there was just the sound of Richard’s breathing. Melisa extricated herself, reached down and wiped him clean with her panties. She walked to a nearby table and tossed his clothes to him. As he dressed she switched on a table lamp, and he could clearly see a digital video camera on a tripod pointed directly at him.

      “Fuckin’ hell, what’s that about?” he said, unable to conceal a surge of panic.

      She waved him off like someone dealing with a child. “Calm down. It’s not what you think.”

      Moments later he was fully dressed and standing at the front door, disoriented and still feeling vulnerable. He had no idea what to do—shake her hand? Kiss her cheek? Melisa had put on a silk robe and was holding the small digital video camera. After a moment, she reached out and placed it in Richard’s hand.

      He looked down at the device, “I don’t understand.”

      She put a hand on his chest and pushed him outside, then responded. “As we both well know, that tape is worth a helluva of a lot of money. But…” she paused for effect, “only if you can handle thousands of complete strangers seeing you in such a…completely personal and vulnerable moment. So, you know, it’s up to you.”

      And with that, she shut the door.

      Richard stood there for a moment, trying to process what had just happened. Then he turned and walked out into street. After a moment he shook his head, held out the little camera and dropped it on to the asphalt below. He brought a foot down on it and heard a cracking noise. Then, with a step forward, he kicked the device, soccer style, into the valley below. As he began to walk away, Richard broke into a loud soccer chant. “No one likes us, no one likes us, no one likes us, and we don’t care! Let’s go Millwall! He clapped loudly three times and then continued to walk in silence.

      Redi-Wash

      By Jax Baynard

      He could detect several scents: jasmine, sandalwood, gardenia and something citrusy, orange or lemon, he wasn’t sure which. They were the only two people in the coin laundry. It was 1:00 a.m. on a Thursday night, and it was cold out. Sensible people—people who got up at six or people who were not chronic insomniacs—were at home in bed. Maybe she was a student, but she looked older. Her laundry was on the spin cycle. She waited to put it in the dryer, idly flipping through the pages of a magazine, her dark hair falling forward on one side of her face, tucked behind an ear on the other.

      Taking a chance, he said, “Been sampling at the perfume counter again?”

      Looking up in surprise, she said, “How did you know?”

      “The girls in my dorm at college. They used to go shopping and put on all the samples at the department stores.” He sniffed in appraisal. “Right now, I’d say you were wearing about four different perfumes.”

      “Six,” СКАЧАТЬ