Note- This story is totally fictional, and is not based on real events. It's just inspired by those in celebrity.
xxx
"Of course, Evanna. I shall help out in any way, and EVERY way I can."
Emma Watson had known Evanna Lynch for a long time now. The first time they had met was when they were halfway through shooting the Potter movies. The porcelain skinned blonde had matured into a determined and confidant woman who was passionately involved in animal rights and veganism. She had co-founded the vegan and cruelty make up and beauty subscription box that had been a great success.
"Now my backers have decided to pull all financial support for the product, "she said in her lilting Irish burr. "I shall have to fold the business. Such a shame."
Emma nodded in agreement.
"Who is the backer?" She asked as she patted her friend's hand sympathetically.
"It's a small, but up and coming financial and investment management service in the City. My personal planner is a Mister Lionel Bray. He can be a right bastard when he wants to. His brain is in his dick. He's tried it on with me a few times in his office. He promised me a secure financial future but now he's pulled up the rug."
Emma took a sip of Darjeeling tea and pondered.
"I have an idea. Make an appointment and I'll take care of everything."
"Emma, you're a darling. I knew I could rely on you."
x
Evanna had gone on to say that Bray was in his mid-forties with a medium build, brown eyes and hair with some slight greying. He had a wife and a couple of kids. He now only had time for deals that could be lucrative for him. He was only invested in big ideas, and screw the rest.
"Right then, Mister Bray."
Emma was at an unexpected lull in her career, and was glad to have something worthwhile to occupy her mind and body. She had spent the past few months single. Concentrating on working out, doing Yoga, and sticking to a strict diet that had done wonders for her figure. All she was lacking in her everyday life was a good shag now and again.
"OH!"
On the day of her showdown meeting, she stepped into her hot shower and glanced at herself in the large bathroom mirror. Already her nipples were hard and erect, poking out from her pert, medium sized breasts. She focused on her slim naked body as the stream rose in the stall. She embraced the soothing hot spray of water, wallowing in the spray that teemed over her. She took a bar of scented soap and let her palms glide over her wet tits and trim stomach. She closed her eyes and imagined they were the seductive caresses of a lover. Suds formed on her soft skin as she soaped up everywhere. Lost in the moment, Emma lingered on her tits and then her pussy mound. Her lathered fingers found their way to her heavenly gash, and as her arousal grew, so did her urgent probing of her moistening slit.
"Umm!"
The needles of spray bounced off her as she lifted her left leg out for better access to her aching muff. The pulsating pressure of the water matched the beat of her heart as she frigged her hot box faster, fantasising it were the insistent thrust of a hard dick inside her tender folds. Coming to a climax, her soaked frame stiffened and she curled her toes on the grey tiles underfoot as welcome waves of euphoria raced through her.
As she turned off the shower, Emma panted hard and reflected on her plan to seduce the financier. She cupped her tingling pussy at the racy thought.
"God, I need to get fucked. And soon."
As she dried off with a soft fluffy towel, Emma decided what she was going to wear. She grinned mischievously as she retrieved some saucy black lingerie from her wardrobe.
"Perfect."
x
Emma took the short taxi ride from her flat to Fenchurch Street which pulled up to a stop outside Number Twenty. The commercial skyscraper was affectionately known as The Walkie-Talkie due to it's distinctive shape that resembled a two-way radio handset.
She pushed past the glass doors of the huge building and passed through security. Dozens of workers scurried past in the vast as she headed to the array of elevators. As she rode the fast moving lift to the twenty-fifth floor, Emma studied herself in the polished mirrors.
With her hair up in a severe bun on top of her head, she wore a black knee length coat that succeeded in covering her black stockings and suspenders belt.
Once outside office number 2523, she popped on a pair of large and round wire eyeglasses and opened the door with the frosted window.
"Am I right for the Bray office? I have a five o'clock appointment."
Emma addressed a prim and proper secretary who silently motioned for her to sit.
The frosty female strode into the adjacent room and emerged in an instant.
"Mister Bray will see you now." Said the woman as she stood by the open door.
Emma stood, smoothed out her coat and entered the room. The floor was well carpeted and had a couple of dark leather chairs along one wall. A large window overlooked the bustling street outside.
Bray was seated behind a cluttered desk, clad in a dark blue suit. He looked up and gave Emma the once over.
"Miss Watson?"
"Do call me Emma."
"Emma Watson?"
"Correct."
Emma sat on the opposite side of the mahogany desk and idly fussed with her loose hair.
His glossy hair was cropped short, accentuating his high cheekbones and angular jaw. He looked at her with dark brown eyes and her breath caught. He was quite masculine, clean, and rather sexy.
This will help matters, she thought to herself. Although at the back of her mind she had to remind herself the man was a bastard.
"Miss Smithers?
"Yes, Mister Bray?"
"Its past five. You may go."
"Thank you, Sir."
The door closed, leaving the pair of them alone.
"So, THE Emma Watson. It's a privilege to meet you. How may I be of assistance?"
"Well. It concerns a dear friend of mine, and one of your clients. Evanna Lynch."
"Right. Right."
Bray pushed his chair in slightly before sitting back and steepling his fingers. Evanna was not wrong. This man had a self-assured air about him. But he was still nevertheless a man.
"Evanna speaks highly of you," said Emma, lowering her glasses down the bridge of her nose.
"Thank you," he said, grateful for the compliment. "What exactly can I do for you?"
Bray smiled warmly as his eyes looked into Emma's. There was a compelling confidence to him that drew her in.
"We have a couple questions and have some concerns that we think you have answers to."
Bray's attention was rapt. He listened as Emma told of her friend's total reliance on his backing her financially for the foreseeable future. Emma studied his mannerisms, assessing who he was and how she was attracting his attention.
"Anything else?" he asked, as Emma came to an end.
"For now."
"Well. I really cannot see how I can be of help. Miss Lynch's project is coming to a natural end, and I see no further need to back her up."
Bray spread his hands in as apology.
"That's a pity."
Emma slowly stood, teetering on her four inch black stiletto heels. Her gaze never faltered from Bray's eyes as one by one, she slipped open the buttons of her long coat and then turned her back on the bemused man.
She narrowed her back and let her coat slip seductively from her shoulders and off. She nonchalantly tossed it to the carpet and then faced him again.
"Fucking hell!"
Bray's eyes were on stalks as he looked Emma up and down.
Now her coat was off, the willowy actress stood there in front of him, dressed only in her bra, panties, stockings, and heels. His eyes roamed over her five-foot-five inch frame, slowly drinking in her soft silky body. He took in every delicious curve and hollow of her slim, leggy form.
Emma raised a groomed brow as his gaze moved down her flat stomach to her skimpy black panties trimmed in lace. He licked his lips involuntarily as he imagined the contents within.
"I say it's a pity, because I was hoping we might come to some arrangement."
Emma removed her unattractive spectacles, revealing her big brown eyes. She pouted and brushed her wet lips with the temple arms of the glasses, and then undid her bun. She bent forwards and then back, shaking her hair loose over her shoulders. Then she used both hands to slowly peel her sodden panties down her nylon sheathed pins. Bray pulled on the collar of his shirt in discomfort as he stared at how the damp wet fabric of her underwear had clung to her sex momentarily.
She stood motionless in all her naked glory, waiting for his reaction.
"You really are a little slut aren't you?" He said, stating the obvious.
"I've come a long way from my witchy days, that's for sure."
Emma giggled as she collected her discarded underwear and threw them precariously in Bray's direction.
She was in full agreement with the man, not denying the surge of eroticism she felt wearing the sexually boosting lingerie.
She planted her hands on the desk and leaned over with an enigmatic smile on her lips.
The stunned man sniffed her panties and lowered his eyes to the enticing V of her mons, now exposed between the superb gap between her upper thighs.
"What do you say?"
Without waiting for an answer, Emma sat back down and raised her heels onto the edge of her side of the desk.
Her pussy slit became visible as her stocking covered legs splayed out and Bray visibly gulped as she began to lick her middle finger before languidly applying it to her snatch, newly shaven that day.
Her digit wedged into her slit to access the opening of her cunt. With an audible sigh, she slid it slowly up and down her inner folds, grazing her erect clit on the up stroke.
"I am SO wet! See?"
Now with two fingers, she reached right inside her pussy, never breaking eye contact with the flustered financier.
Emma got up then and stood proud, tracing a line with forefinger from her throat down to her cleavage. She smiled at him as she reached back to unfasten her bra. removing it and tossing it aside.
Now bared, Bray's mouth gaped at the sight of Emma's beautifully shaped, up-turned breasts with the sweetest pink nipples.
The minx was now in only her skirted garter belt that hugged her hips and kept her thigh high silk nylons in check.
