muse_shuffle | December Greatest Hits
Track 02. I don't want anybody else >> When I think about you // I touch myself
(Divinyls - ‘I Touch Myself’)
[Follows THIS]
Marc peeled his way out of the clutches of the naked busty blonde occupying his bed. She whined as he rose to sit on the side of the bed, brushing his fingers through his hair. She sat up behind him and plastered herself up against his back. Luckily she couldn’t see his face, because he couldn’t stop a slight curling of his nose in irritation. “Mmm, come back to bed, sweetie…” she mumbled and started sucking on his throat.
Fingers curled around her arms and Marc extricated himself from her again. He couldn’t even remember her name; had they even swapped names? “Sorry, babe… I have to go mingle at another business function. Be important.” He threw a smirk over his shoulder at her and stood to pull his silk boxers on. “Time for you to ship out, love.” He grabbed up her evening gown and tossed it on the bed beside her.
She pouted at him. “Take me with you.”
Marc stifled a shudder and offered her a tight, forced smile. He despised baby talk on a grown woman, especially after fucking her. “Can’t, babe. This one is boys only.” It wasn’t a total lie. He was a boy and his partner was one, too. Casual drinks at a bar in Jersey was going to be boys only. As much as he hated to admit it, he was tiring of the random fucking. Maybe he was getting old? Her shoes were scooped up and handed to her. “Cheers, now. Maybe I’ll see you around.”
The woman’s pout turned into a pissed off frown. “You’re just turfing me out without even a thank you?”
Marc cocked an eyebrow at her. “Yeah, I though I might.” He went over to the bedroom door and held it open for her. “I have shit to do, love. I don’t have time for this.”
She rolled her eyes and huffily dragged her dress on. “You’ll be back for more,” she predicted smugly as she sauntered past him, trying to get his attention by wriggling her arse at him.
Marc just yawned and threw her a slight wave. The rest of her trip out was an angry stomp across the apartment, followed by a loud and pointed slam of his front door as she left. He screwed his face up and brushed at his arm. “Urgh… to the fuck with fake tits. I’m over it…” he muttered to himself. He took a quick trip to his en suite bathroom to take the dark contacts out of his eyes and then shuffled into his office up the hall of the large penthouse apartment.
He sifted through a handful of mail he had collected from work the evening before, tossing the boring, repetitive blank envelopes of Christmas cards from unknown people onto his desk unopened. It was a large envelope at the bottom of the pile that caught his attention. The rest of the mail was dumped unceremoniously onto his chair and he looked over the courier’s envelope curiously. There was no return address and it was sent to him care of Promantech. He tucked his finger into the seal and opened it, plucking the papers from the envelope.
His eyebrows shot up when he realised his hands were occupied with a very glossy A4 sized photo of Ms Harriet Ryan in all her naked, natural breasted glory. He let out a slow, impressed whistled and moved on to the note attached…
How much would you pay for this?
Marc smirked and then laughed, shaking his head. Playing the game, indeed. He tilted his head and analysed the photo again. He set it carefully down on the desk and rummaged through one of the drawers. He found a digital camera and dropped his shorts. Just looking at the photo had been enough to give him a healthy boner. He held the camera in front of his dick and snapped a close up photo, then shoved the camera on the docking station to print the shot out. While he waited for it to print, he lit up a cigarette and rested his hip against the edge of the desk.
This really was going to be interesting and he would have to play his cards right. He had fast learnt that he had to be constantly two steps ahead of everyone he interacted with and it couldn’t be any different with Harri Ryan. Sure, he had been dumped right in the middle of the high and extravagant life with his new job, but that certainly didn’t make it easy. The only time he could completely switch off while he was finding his feet were moments like this when he was completely alone with the luxury of just being himself. Harri was a test, and he knew it, too.
The camera beeped and Marc took the print from the dock whilst tapping some ash off his cigarette into the ashtray. He wet his lips, smiling as he leaned over the desk and quickly scrawled in his elaborate writing:
How much would you pay for this?
He slid the photo into a fresh, crisp envelope and handwrote her name and address from her letterhead on the front, leaving the back blank. She had his contact details, clearly, and he didn’t need to sign his name. Placing the envelope in his out tray to post in the morning, Marc firmly and enthusiastically threw the ball back into her court. He stubbed the cigarette out and held her photo up for another look. She had held firm, even through his crass insult, which he had thrown at her to test her. He could get T and A anywhere, anytime, and he could get it on tap. What he really wanted was someone who could give him a run for his money, not just in body, but in mind, and Harriet Ryan seemed to have thrown her hat into the ring.
Blue eyes trailed over every curve and sweep of her naked body and he wet his lips, sinking down into his desk chair with a soft, aroused exhalation. The elastic waist of his boxers were pushed away indifferently, freeing his erection so he could wrap his hand tightly around it. His eyes never left the photo as he indulged himself wholeheartedly, stroking his hand rhythmically up and down his cock. Images of their encounter in the elevator flashed in his mind and just spurred his arousal into overdrive.
Wherever this was leading, no doubt about it, he wanted more.
Harri Ryan [straight2point] referenced with permission
Word Count | 1,086
(Divinyls - ‘I Touch Myself’)
[Follows THIS]
Marc peeled his way out of the clutches of the naked busty blonde occupying his bed. She whined as he rose to sit on the side of the bed, brushing his fingers through his hair. She sat up behind him and plastered herself up against his back. Luckily she couldn’t see his face, because he couldn’t stop a slight curling of his nose in irritation. “Mmm, come back to bed, sweetie…” she mumbled and started sucking on his throat.
Fingers curled around her arms and Marc extricated himself from her again. He couldn’t even remember her name; had they even swapped names? “Sorry, babe… I have to go mingle at another business function. Be important.” He threw a smirk over his shoulder at her and stood to pull his silk boxers on. “Time for you to ship out, love.” He grabbed up her evening gown and tossed it on the bed beside her.
She pouted at him. “Take me with you.”
Marc stifled a shudder and offered her a tight, forced smile. He despised baby talk on a grown woman, especially after fucking her. “Can’t, babe. This one is boys only.” It wasn’t a total lie. He was a boy and his partner was one, too. Casual drinks at a bar in Jersey was going to be boys only. As much as he hated to admit it, he was tiring of the random fucking. Maybe he was getting old? Her shoes were scooped up and handed to her. “Cheers, now. Maybe I’ll see you around.”
The woman’s pout turned into a pissed off frown. “You’re just turfing me out without even a thank you?”
Marc cocked an eyebrow at her. “Yeah, I though I might.” He went over to the bedroom door and held it open for her. “I have shit to do, love. I don’t have time for this.”
She rolled her eyes and huffily dragged her dress on. “You’ll be back for more,” she predicted smugly as she sauntered past him, trying to get his attention by wriggling her arse at him.
Marc just yawned and threw her a slight wave. The rest of her trip out was an angry stomp across the apartment, followed by a loud and pointed slam of his front door as she left. He screwed his face up and brushed at his arm. “Urgh… to the fuck with fake tits. I’m over it…” he muttered to himself. He took a quick trip to his en suite bathroom to take the dark contacts out of his eyes and then shuffled into his office up the hall of the large penthouse apartment.
He sifted through a handful of mail he had collected from work the evening before, tossing the boring, repetitive blank envelopes of Christmas cards from unknown people onto his desk unopened. It was a large envelope at the bottom of the pile that caught his attention. The rest of the mail was dumped unceremoniously onto his chair and he looked over the courier’s envelope curiously. There was no return address and it was sent to him care of Promantech. He tucked his finger into the seal and opened it, plucking the papers from the envelope.
His eyebrows shot up when he realised his hands were occupied with a very glossy A4 sized photo of Ms Harriet Ryan in all her naked, natural breasted glory. He let out a slow, impressed whistled and moved on to the note attached…
How much would you pay for this?
Marc smirked and then laughed, shaking his head. Playing the game, indeed. He tilted his head and analysed the photo again. He set it carefully down on the desk and rummaged through one of the drawers. He found a digital camera and dropped his shorts. Just looking at the photo had been enough to give him a healthy boner. He held the camera in front of his dick and snapped a close up photo, then shoved the camera on the docking station to print the shot out. While he waited for it to print, he lit up a cigarette and rested his hip against the edge of the desk.
This really was going to be interesting and he would have to play his cards right. He had fast learnt that he had to be constantly two steps ahead of everyone he interacted with and it couldn’t be any different with Harri Ryan. Sure, he had been dumped right in the middle of the high and extravagant life with his new job, but that certainly didn’t make it easy. The only time he could completely switch off while he was finding his feet were moments like this when he was completely alone with the luxury of just being himself. Harri was a test, and he knew it, too.
The camera beeped and Marc took the print from the dock whilst tapping some ash off his cigarette into the ashtray. He wet his lips, smiling as he leaned over the desk and quickly scrawled in his elaborate writing:
How much would you pay for this?
He slid the photo into a fresh, crisp envelope and handwrote her name and address from her letterhead on the front, leaving the back blank. She had his contact details, clearly, and he didn’t need to sign his name. Placing the envelope in his out tray to post in the morning, Marc firmly and enthusiastically threw the ball back into her court. He stubbed the cigarette out and held her photo up for another look. She had held firm, even through his crass insult, which he had thrown at her to test her. He could get T and A anywhere, anytime, and he could get it on tap. What he really wanted was someone who could give him a run for his money, not just in body, but in mind, and Harriet Ryan seemed to have thrown her hat into the ring.
Blue eyes trailed over every curve and sweep of her naked body and he wet his lips, sinking down into his desk chair with a soft, aroused exhalation. The elastic waist of his boxers were pushed away indifferently, freeing his erection so he could wrap his hand tightly around it. His eyes never left the photo as he indulged himself wholeheartedly, stroking his hand rhythmically up and down his cock. Images of their encounter in the elevator flashed in his mind and just spurred his arousal into overdrive.
Wherever this was leading, no doubt about it, he wanted more.
Harri Ryan [straight2point] referenced with permission
Word Count | 1,086