The Voyeur (7 page)

Reluctantly, Anya lowered her fingers from Clara’s teats, only the need to know her own fate giving her the mental strength to stop her caresses.

There was a moment’s pause while Clara studied her lover’s rear view. ‘It’s the same for you, except you are excused Fantasy 8. Damn, I thought I’d done as well as you on that one.’ Wrapping her hands around Anya, Clara mirrored the position her partner had adopted on her only moments ago. Her fingers enjoyed the familiar weight of Anya’s tits against her palms as she whispered into her ear, ‘Assuming we are going to have to do them in order, then I guess we are about to redo Fantasy 2 …’

As Clara’s straying fingers played over her tips, avoiding her blooming bruises from the previous night, Anya found it hard to focus on the imminent reliving of Mark’s fantasies.

Twisting round, Clara tumbled Anya swiftly onto the bed, falling on top of her, unable to contain the yearning that had been building in her since Mark had taken them into his study. Wriggling down the length of Anya’s body, Clara dragged her companion’s legs open wide, and began to feast …

Mark clicked the playback function button on his laptop. A broad smile spread across his face. His employees were so predictable. Undoing his fly, he settled back to savour the girls’ unauthorised sex session, mulling over whether or not he’d punish them for not asking for his permission first.

Chapter Seven

The sense of déjà vu was almost spooky as they walked through the door of the guest bedroom. The stereo on the corner unit was playing the same haunting Irish melodies as when they’d taken part in Fantasy 2 the first time round.

Mark sat, his long, denim-clad legs stretched out in front of him, on a pine chair next to the dressing table. The only difference between now and then was that he held his leather-bound notebook and a pen in his hands. To the girls they were as menacing as any of the weapons he had ever used against them. They knew that book held the secret of Fantasy 13.

Deciding to keep his knowledge of the girl’s illicit sex session to himself for now, Mark said, ‘This is, as I’m sure you have worked out, Fantasy 2.’

Not quite holding hands, but allowing the tips of their fingers to brush together, the women braced themselves. Knowing what they were about to face made the wait for the task to begin harder than the last time they’d faced Fantasy 2, and both Anya and Clara began to wish they really had rested in their hour off. By fucking, gorgeous though it had been, they’d only turned themselves on further.

Privately acknowledging the added difficulty his employees had presented themselves with (a situation that hadn’t occurred in the early days of their alliance), Mark made a mental note to consider this in his re-scoring of the show he was about to referee; although as yet he wasn’t sure if this was a point in their favour, or against them.

Reclining in his chair, Mark raised his arm as if he was about to start a race, and gave the first order. ‘Strip.’

With practice born of repetition, the women divested themselves of their clothing, heaping their discarded garments onto the bed behind them.

Mark took a moment to study his staff, and then pointed to the foot of the four-poster bed. Understanding the unspoken request, the women stood, face to face, one metre apart.

Anya could feel her heart rate quicken further as she regarded Clara. It didn’t matter that she had enjoyed the feel of Clara’s skin a hundred times before; all that mattered was feeling it again, and soon.

‘As you will remember, you must remain exactly where you are, without touching each other, without making a sound. All you have to do is listen and refrain from moving.’ Picking up a well-thumbed paperback of erotic short stories from the bedside table, Mark took his time leafing through the pages to find the section he’d decided to narrate to his staff.

‘Even though Gail had been expecting it, the ring of the doorbell still made her jump. Wiping her palms apprehensively down the back of her jeans, she went to greet her guest.

‘The smile that met Gail as she opened the door turned into a beam of approval as Becky’s eyes scanned Gail’s snug-fitting red top and black jeans as if she had X-ray vision. “Wow, that’s one sexy vest, honey.”

‘Gail’s face flushed, but she managed to swallow back her natural inclination to dismiss a compliment, and let her own eyes roam over her visitor. Becky, in blue jeans and a plain black figure-hugging T-shirt, which displayed her cleavage to perfection, looked fantastic. Her recently washed and fluffed hair smelt mildly of lemon, and her face looked fresh and keen.

‘“You look pretty hot yourself, come in.” Becky followed her host into the small hallway that led to the lounge.

‘Gail was thankful for the background music she’d put on, for now they were here, face to face, just out of arm’s reach, an awkward tension hung in the air. They simply didn’t know what to say to each other. Surprising herself by being the one to break the silence, Gail spoke quietly. “This is ridiculous. Come here.” Catching hold of Becky’s hand, feeling how cold it was despite the heat of the room, she pulled her down onto the short blue sofa.

‘They still didn’t talk, but now it didn’t matter. As Gail sat, her legs hooked up under her, her body whorled toward Becky, everything within her immediate sight became blurred around the edges; this girl’s face, her clear green eyes, her mouth, the hands that began to reach out to Gail …

‘As Becky’s fingers reached her cheeks, Gail was snapped back to reality by their tender touch on her pale flesh. Placing her own hands on Becky’s shoulders, Gail ran them up each side of her neck, until she was cupping her face. The desire to kiss this person, this woman, was overwhelming. As her face came to Gail’s, Becky muttered, “You still want to?”

‘“Oh yes.” Gail hardly even breathed the words as their lips came together and their eyes closed.

‘The goosepimples that had been spotting Gail’s arms tingled, and every nerve-ending flickered as a supple tongue darted against her mouth, and soft hair stroked her face. Her lips would have been happy to keep doing this, to kiss this person endlessly, but Gail’s body had other ideas, and after a few moments she could no longer sustain the leisurely pace.

‘Her kisses became firmer, and Becky, picking up on Gail’s urgency, reciprocated with equal fervour. Their hands, everywhere at once, began a thorough exploration of each other. Kneading tits, sliding hands beneath shirts to feel bare skin against their virgin fingers, nipping at each other’s neck, trailing hands lower, caressing crotches through thick denim, they touched whatever they could reach without giving up the kissing that became more and more passionate.

‘Finally breaking away, panting, their eyes serious but twinkling with mutual lust, they stood up …’

As he read, Mark, who knew the passage he was reciting so well that he really didn’t need to have the book in front of him, watched the girls’ bodies react; their teats hardening, their breasts swelling. Gratified that they hadn’t yet wavered from their position, he launched back into the manuscript, continuing to observe Anya and Clara carefully as he read …

‘Reaching out again, Becky dragged Gail’s top from her shoulders. Copying the action, Gail drew a long deep breath as she saw Becky’s black lace chemise, an exhalation that was echoed by Becky, whose emerald gaze had locked on to Gail’s bright red satin bra. Only a second’s visual appreciation passed, however, as, with unspoken understanding, they freed their breasts.

‘Gail’s hands leapt to her companion’s perfectly round yielding chest. As she made contact with Becky’s globes, the neat beige tips pushed back against her palms. Becky let out a husky groan of yearning, bringing her own hands to the other woman, her little fingers rubbing around Gail’s dark areolas in delectably torturous circles.

‘Desperate to find out if the taste of a tit was as she imaged it to be, Gail knocked Becky’s hands away, her lips rushing forward on a collision course for her guest’s right nipple. The texture of female flesh between her teeth sent a thrill gushing through her, turning Gail’s pussy from damp to wet as she gently kissed all around the teat. Savouring Becky’s sigh of contentment, Gail turned her caresses to pinches and bites, making her lover gasp as her hands continued their investigation of the mouth-watering body that was responding to her so readily. A voice at the back of Gail’s mind was asking her how the hell she knew what to do, but she ignored it, more concerned with continuing her research.

‘Becky’s arms hung limp at her sides as Gail pushed her back onto the sofa, lifted her hips, and began to pull down her jeans.

‘Gail’s throat became Sahara dry as she revealed Becky’s ruby and silver-studded naval. Pausing to kiss it, she continued removing the denims until she was faced with a beautiful, black lace-covered pussy. Nothing mattered now except seeing what lay under that small triangle of fabric. With a quick glance at Becky to make sure she still wanted to proceed, Gail pressed a firm palm over the knickers, feeling her stomach muscles quiver as she ran a single finger beneath the waistband. Becky’s breathing became laboured as Gail peeled the lace away from her crotch.

‘The smoothly shaven pussy that met Gail’s eyes seemed to ask for attention all on its own. Gail’s fingers obliged, examining its secret folds. Her touch revelled in the unfamiliar sensations, and her nose instantly loved the sweet aroma as her fingers uncovered the erect clit. Leaning closer, Gail blew air across its tip, making Becky whimper as moist lips met her pussy. Lapping up the sweet juices with delight, Gail’s hands snaked up Becky, massaging each breast.

‘Murmuring her pleasure with short mewls, Becky’s body began to jerk. Her involuntary movements increased as Gail speeded her caresses, gliding a finger inside the wet snatch, as Becky, with a cry of joy, came around the thin digit while Gail continued to stimulate her clit …’

Anya’s toes clenched as she fought the urge to shuffle her feet. Her entire body could feel the echo of Becky and Gail’s imagined stimulation. Before the reading had started, Anya had adopted the position experience had taught her she could maintain for a long time, with her hands together in front of her. Now, as Mark’s words slunk over her, the PA felt her sticky palms suction together. Resolute that she would not fail, she was equally desperate to touch Clara. Anya began to wish that she had focused her eyes on her lover’s feet rather than on her slim, porcelain waist and perfectly oval naval.

Clara, her neck bent, was studying the patch of carpet just in front of Anya’s painted toenails. Her hands, linked behind her back, dug into her palms as she did her best to block out Mark’s low, sensual voice; trying to think about anything but the intensely erotic scenario that was being read to them.

Distracting herself, Anya began to mull over where Mark had hidden the stopwatch. She was sure there’d be one hidden somewhere, counting off the seconds until either she or Clara caved in and moved. It was probably in his pocket, but Anya didn’t dare lift her gaze enough to see if the tell-tale circular bulge to his jeans pocket was there.

As Mark lingered over a paragraph detailing the fictional women licking each other out, Anya’s crotch twitched faster. She could almost feel the described contact for herself, and guessed from the visible tensing of her stomach muscles that Clara was fighting a similar battle.

Trying hard not to dwell on how wet her partner might be, and wishing she’d been bound so that her forced inactivity was easier, Anya attempted to picture the pile of paperwork on her desk, and the massive number of emails that would be cluttering up her inbox while she was away from the office. Yet her attempts at such practical thoughts were washed away by Mark’s kinky recital …

‘Gail couldn’t believe how incredible it felt, as a girl stroked her inner thighs and snatch with languid strokes of her agile tongue. Unable to keep her hands still, she reached down to the top of Becky’s head, but, unable to reach her, moved her fingers to her own breasts, massaging them in time to the gloriously frustrating movements between her legs …’

It was Clara’s foot that shifted first. Just a tiny fraction. If Mark hadn’t been expecting it then it might have gone unnoticed, but he remembered how Fantasy 2 had ended last time, with the minor wriggle of his housekeeper’s toes, and it was with an expressionless dip of his head that he witnessed history repeating itself.

Clara inwardly cursed her unbidden movement. She was sure she had managed to remain motionless for longer than she had last time, but the proximity of Anya, and the temptation of the words Mark had been weaving around them, had been too much.

Now that Clara had moved, Anya felt the tension ease from her rigid frame, and risked flexing her fingers a little. Mark’s cut-glass voice ripped through the sound of the soloist singing her haunting tones from the stereo. ‘I expected you to last longer, Miss Hooper. You have six months more experience than you had the last time you took this test.’

Instantly both girls became stock still in the face of their boss’s disappointment.

‘I have not finished reading. You will take one step closer to each other. You will not touch each other.’

Anya could almost taste Clara’s skin, it was so close, and the heady aroma of her partner’s snatch was wafting temptingly toward her. Mark resumed the torturously arousing monologue as she battled harder than ever not to grab the woman in front of her.

‘Becky smiled with approval when she saw Gail’s busy fingers and, slipping a hand under Gail’s backside, sought out her anus. Lifting her head for a second, Becky began to probe at her lover’s arse, pushing her finger in further, her eyes trapped into Gail’s, gauging her reaction to the extra intrusion. “Is that OK?”

‘“Oh fuck, yes!” Gail lifted her hips to help accommodate Becky’s hand, anxious for her friend’s mouth to return to its previous location.

‘As if reading her mind, Becky bought her lips back to Gail’s pussy, just as she thrust one finger between her butt cheeks and another into her slick cunt.

‘Gail’s body jacked, colours flashed behind her closed eyelids, and her hips rose higher as, for the first time in her life, a female triggered an orgasm that took full control of her.

‘Recovering themselves, the women looked at each other, exploding into a fit of friendly giggles as they observed their dishevelled state.

‘With a mischievous wink Becky said, “So, darling, was it good for you?”

‘Adopting a mock male tone, Gail replied, “Oh yes, babe!”’

Three whole minutes passed at a snail’s pace before Mark finally closed the novel and, without a word, opened his notebook instead.

Anya and Clara redoubled their efforts not to move, intimidated by the presence of the red pen Mark now held. Consulting the stopwatch that had been in his pocket as Anya had predicted, Mark wrote something in his book, his face set in grim concentration. The girls held their collective breath.

Clara, her head now held marginally higher than usual to relieve the tension in her neck, rested her eyes on Anya’s breasts. It was all she could do not to throw herself at them. Trying to convince herself that her feet were superglued to the floor, the housekeeper shut her eyes. Clara knew she shouldn’t, but at the same time she was all too aware that if she kept them open for even one more second, there was no way she’d be able to resist grabbing her lover – just like she had last time.

The girls could feel Mark’s eyes burning into them like lasers. He hadn’t said anything about Clara’s eyes being closed, but then he didn’t have to. She already knew she’d lost this one. All that mattered now was damage limitation. If she could prevent herself from grabbing Anya’s tits, then maybe she would have managed to score enough to satisfy Mark.