Enticing An Angel (13 page)

Leaving her stool, she went to him and curled
up on the couch. The building he was sketching wasn’t as grand as
the one she had seen in the picture frame at his house, but it was
impressive in its own right. The front entry was very large, and
while most of the building was two stories, those floors were only
functional as wings. The center to the building was a two-story
glass showcase, ostensibly for an impressive lobby with vaulted
ceilings.

Michael had taken the liberty to sketch in a
large hanging piece of art from the high ceiling. It resembled an
ornate chandelier, and Melanie could easily picture standing
beneath such an object, bare feet on marble floor, looking up to
admire its color and shape.

Not happy with its presence, Michael was
currently erasing the artwork. Melanie frowned.

"Don't you like it?" she asked.

"It's just not right," he replied.

"I can relate to that," she laughed.

Michael didn't reply; he was still focused on
his sketch and continued to erase. Melanie smiled at his
concentration and wondered if this is what he saw when she focused
on her work. She shrugged it off and glanced over to her easel; it
still mocked her. She sighed heavy and shook her head.

"Trouble?" Michael asked.

When Melanie turned to him, he was watching
her warmly. She smiled and put her head to his; all it took for him
to leave his sketchpad was her discontentment about something; she
found that endearing.

"Oh, it's just that I'm as stuck as you," she
said.

Michael looked to her artwork and
frowned.

"I think it looks great," he said.

"I think your hanging art looks great," she
replied.

Michael looked back to her as she pulled away
from him. He just shook his head and chuckled.

"Touché," he said.

"Will you have it done in time?" she asked
him.

"Oh, it's mostly done now. This is just a
presentation sketch. It's something to show the client so they will
be impressed."

"Well the artwork is impressive, but if it's
not important then why not just leave it as is?"

Michael shrugged as he returned to
erasing.

"It’s a matter of being right for me," he
said. "I could let it go as is, but I prefer the sketch when it
feels perfect."

"I wish I could get that feeling with my
canvas. I stare at it and hope it will come to me, but it never
does."

"Well you could stare at it, and I will come
to you," Michael grinned.

Melanie chuckled and gave him a grin as she
darted her eyebrows up and down. He was being cute, and she liked
him for it. That cuteness was gone quickly when he set his
sketchpad down and rotated himself off the couch and onto the
floor. In a second, he was at her feet, smiling up at her and
reaching for her skirt.

"Michael, I don't think this will help," she
smiled.

"Oh, do you think it will hurt?" he said as
he unbuttoned her skirt, pulled the zipper down her thigh and began
to remove the garment.

"Well, I'm not going to complain, but I won't
be able to concentrate on the canvas," she said, and then her face
changed as she saw Michael's face change. He was biting his lower
lip and had the oddest expression. She followed his gaze to her
panties and when he whispered the word "Damn," she smiled broadly.
He didn't see her smile; he was focused on the matchbook-sized
piece of cloth pretending to be underwear.

Michael recovered and finished removing her
skirt. As he reached for the strings that held the next garment, he
spoke at her, not to her; he was too focused on her legs to do
that.

"You just look at that canvas, relax, and let
me help you," he said as he kissed her thigh and began to pull
downward on her underwear. Melanie grabbed his hands tightly and
stopped him. She held him so hard that he was forced to look up at
her. She locked his gaze with her own, and hers had a wicked look
to it.

"Come on," she said as she freed herself from
his grasp.

She leapt of the couch leaving Michael on his
knees and barely able to turn around to follow her. Making her way
to the center of the loft, she looked at her canvass, the lighting,
the angles, and the floor. Finding the right spot, she turned to
Michael, who had now made his way to his feet.

"Come here, Mr. Angel," she said to him.

Michael complied.

"Lie down," she said, "on your back with your
feet away from the canvass."

An odd look was her response, but as the
position became clear, Michael smiled. When he was lying as
ordered, Melanie removed her blouse, turned to the canvass, and
began to lower herself. Michael's hand reached up, grabbed those
strings again and she slapped his hands.

"Leave them on," she said.

"This job will be a lot more difficult if we
do that," he chuckled.

"It's called panty smothering you big baby,"
she said, and when Michael's eyes bulged, it was her turn to
chuckle.

"I don't know how to do that," he said
carefully.

"That's okay, neither do I, let's figure it
out together."

Melanie lowered herself to him and Michael's
arms wrapped around her legs as his mouth opened to receive her. It
was an odd sensation. His tongue couldn't penetrate, and the motion
was smooth and tantalizing.

She looked away from him and over to her
canvas. As Michael moved, she moved with him. She had not lied to
her lover, she had never done this before, but she was aware of the
technique, and as he pressured her with his mouth, she began to
smother him.

The garment was not large, but it did cover
his nose and mouth, and with all her might, she tried to cut off
his oxygen. He was not so large that she might be worried; Michael
was double her weight. If he needed air, he would get it. However,
her concerns didn't seem warranted, for as she pushed down, his
arms wrapped tighter around her legs and pulled her down
harder.

The pressure was intense and when she felt
his teeth on her clitoris, she gasped. The cloth protected her from
the sharpness, but the hardness of the enamel added a very distinct
feel. She gasped again as she felt a bite. She fell forward, but
Michael reached up with one of his hands, placed it between her
breasts and forced her back to a seated position. He continued to
push her past a ninety-degree and she had to place her hand behind
her for support. She so badly wanted to turn around and begin to
service him at the same time, but Michael returned his arm to her
leg and held her in place.

In a matter of seconds, Michael's movements
became erratic, gone was his smoothness, and gone was some of the
gentleness. His legs kicked one way and his back arched which only
served to move him into her. He was fighting for air but would not
let go of her. That single thought brought her almost to climax.
She debated getting off him, but his arms only pulled tighter.
Instead, she ground into him and forced her hips one way and then
the other. She couldn't stop from screaming and at its height,
Michael rolled and began to turn her to her back. She rolled across
her hips using the floor as a stop that allowed him to push into
her. The tight grip on her thighs meant his mouth did not leave
her, and she finished her orgasm, propped up on one arm, while
pulling on his hair with the other.

A loud gasp of air could be heard from
Michael as he moved his mouth away, and that gasp, combined with
one of his fingers that went quickly beneath her panties, allowed
her to have a shuddering aftershock. She jerked suddenly, and
Michael slowed his finger. She jerked again, and again he slowed,
but the pressure was steady.

Michael kissed her navel and slowly moved up
to her breasts. Melanie smiled as she laid back and played with his
hair, guiding him ever upward. When he reached her lips, he kissed
her softly and then nuzzled her. He winked at her and then turned
to his back. For a moment, they lay on the floor not saying a
word.

Eventually, Michael contorted himself by
arching his back and tilting his head so that he could look at the
canvas behind him. His lips made funny motions and he swished his
cheeks back and forth in an odd show of contemplation. Relaxing his
back allowed him to lie flat, and he turned to Melanie.

"Did it give you any ideas?" he asked.

"Nope," she said. "I think we need to try
again."

Michael laughed, and Melanie turned to him,
laying her body halfway across his.

"Thank you, Michael. That was very stress
relieving."

"Oh, really, are you under a lot of
stress?"

"Not a lot, but I have that lunch date
tomorrow, and I'm not thrilled about it."

"Oh, with who?" he asked.

Melanie sat up and eyed him carefully. She
appeared confused and Michael teased her.

"Do you have a mysterious lover I should be
concerned with?" he asked with a wink.

Melanie's face relaxed, and she bent to give
him a kiss.

"Now, why would I need a mysterious lover
when I have a compliant one?" she asked as she pulled away. She
licked her upper lip slowly, looked at her prone lover, and then
decided that he had way too many clothes on.

The car was parked efficiently, and the walk
to the office was quick and direct. There was no chitchat with
anyone; even the person who was kind enough to hold the outer door
was only giving a courtesy nod of thanks. From there, a few steps
were all that was required to reach the inner office and the
reception area within that. This was not a social call in any
normal sense of the word, even if it was meant to appear that
way.

"Mrs. Angel," Jennifer said as she looked
across the attendant's desk to the woman before her.

Jennifer was bending over the desk and
analyzing something with the receptionist, but she straightened
when Mrs. Angel entered.

"I didn't know we had an appointment today,"
she said with concern.

"We don't, Jennifer, and please call me
Susan," Mrs. Angel replied.

"All right, Susan, is there something I can
help you with?"

"Actually, I'm here to have lunch with
Melanie. She and Michael are dating, and I wanted to get to know
her better."

"Melanie?" Jennifer replied with a frown.
"I'm not sure she's still here. I haven't seen her in awhile, but
she may be in the back. I hope she hasn't forgotten your
appointment."

Mrs. Angel sighed noticeably. She could
certainly see Melanie doing just that. Jennifer excused herself for
a moment and left to search for the wayward paralegal; Susan just
shook her head with disappointment. Her disappointment hinged on
two points—Michael dating Melanie and Melanie possibly forgetting
the lunch appointment.

Jennifer returned shortly and announced that
she had found Melanie. She was in a back office cross-indexing
files and listening to music; she would be up shortly. Mrs. Angel
thanked Jennifer for the effort.

"So, Melanie and Michael are dating?"
Jennifer asked.

"Apparently," Susan replied.

Jennifer considered the idea and then nodded
slightly. "I can see them making a cute couple," she said
thoughtfully.

"Really," Susan replied skeptically, "I would
think you and Michael would make a better couple. You have so much
in common."

Mrs. Angel wasn’t happy about her son's
choice of women and had decided to be more involved and more bold
with her efforts. If Michael wouldn’t ask out Jennifer, then Mrs.
Angel would at least make it clear which relationship was to be
preferred.

Jennifer seemed amused with the comment and
shared a knowing look with her attendant.

"Well, Michael and I do have a lot in common,
including the gender we date," Jennifer said with a polite
smile.

Mrs. Angel was confused for a moment; when
Jennifer saw the bewilderment, she added personal details.

"I only date women," she said clearly, and
then smiled at the receptionist beside her.

"Oh," Mrs. Angel replied with understanding.
"Sorry, I didn't know."

"There's nothing to be sorry about, and it's
I who should apologize."

Susan gave Jennifer a quizzical look.

"Oh," Jennifer said. "I'm not apologizing for
dating women. I just meant that it's not the most appropriate topic
to discuss in the office; not everyone is understanding. Normally,
I refrain from mentioning it around clients as a matter of
professionalism and privacy. I only mention it now to clarify your
comment about your son."

Susan smiled warmly and nodded her head. She
assured Jennifer that she had no challenges with the woman's
lifestyle; Mrs. Angel was very understanding about women dating
women. When Jennifer and the receptionist both raised eyebrows at
that remark, Susan clarified her comments.

"Oh," she said with a wave of her hands, "I'm
not that understanding."

Jennifer smiled and was saved from a response
when Melanie entered the lobby. The smile and good cheer quickly
faded from Susan, and she greeted Melanie politely, if not warmly.
Melanie took the greeting in stride, and Susan had to once again
wonder at the woman's intelligence.

Dumb as a rock
, she thought

She honestly couldn’t picture what her son
saw in this woman. If it was sex, he might be given a pass, but sex
didn't explain why he would invite her to a family event. As they
exited the building, and Melanie suggested a restaurant, Susan
could only shake her head again; she wasn’t looking forward to
this.

The place chosen was at least quiet enough—it
was a small deli that offered a few tables for its patrons that
chose to eat inside. Privacy was not a concern; Susan didn't care
if anyone overheard, as long as Melanie could hear. They took to a
small round table just big enough for the both of them and waited
for their food to be ready.