Closing The Deal 7

"Congratulations Mr. Stern, the condo is all yours."

Lisa clapped her leather portfolio closed and smiled at her client. Her commission on this sale would be her biggest this year. When she looked up at him from across the kitchen table, she was beaming and she knew it, but she couldn't stop.

"Lisa," he said, rolling her name off his tongue slowly in his deep, southern drawl. "You can call me Wes. No one I know calls me Mr. Stern."

"Alright then...Wes," she said, almost giggling when she did. Her cheeks dimpled as she tried to stifle her smile. Under her fingertips, she thought she could feel the signed paperwork throbbing inside the leather folder. Folding her hands together on top of her prize, she fixed a more demure smile on her face before turning back to her client. She was certain that if she didn't get away from this damn folder, he would see dollar signs where her pupils should have been and that would ruin the whole deal, done in by cartoonish, open-faced greed.

Standing up and smoothing down the front of her already immaculate suit with a perfectly manicured hand, Lisa said "We should drink to celebrate."

Lisa was at the other end of the table, safely away from her folder and the growing urge to ogle the numbers on the pieces of paper inside it, when it occurred to her how a beeline to the liquor cabinet might look following the close of a sale. When she turned back around to check her client's reaction, he was looking away, slightly embarrassed.

"I mean," she fumbled, knocked off her stride without a sale to pitch. "If it's alright with...the homeowner, that is."

"It is," Wes said, straightening.

"Great," she said. "I hope you don't think I was being presumptuous, but I picked up a bottle to break open back at the office."

Lisa walked to the closet near the entryway where they'd hung their coats and reached behind hers to pull out a bottle of wine. This time, when she looked back in Wes's direction, it was through the veil of her own hair, falling forward over her face as she reached into the back of the closet. This time, she caught him taking a look at her ass.

When she caught his smile, she moved a little more slowly, and continued to reach around for a few moments after finding the bottle tucked in the corner. He had a nice smile, but it was the sudden hunter's gleam in his eyes that took over when he thought she wasn't looking that made her twist her hips and sway a little, just so she could see a little more of it. She whipped her hair away from her neck when she turned back to him so he wouldn't notice her watching him looking and when her eyes found his, they again had the polite look of a satisfied customer.

"Found it," she said, holding up the bottle as proof.

"I'll get a wine key."

He disappeared into the kitchen and Lisa heard the rattle of flatware as she set the bottle down and took two wine glasses down from the display cabinet. Bringing the glasses to Wes, she noticed that he'd removed his tie, unbuttoned his collar, and rolled his sleeves up to the elbows. She set the glasses down in front of him and watched as he expertly pulled out the stopper.

"You're pretty good with that," she said and meant it. Most people she knew couldn't open a bottle of wine that easily. Granted she could have done it just as fast, if not faster, but why should she? After all, ever since he put his name on the dotted line, this house has belonged to Wes and she was his guest, not his realtor.

"I was a bartender in college," he said, sounding a little apologetic.

"Really?"

"What, I don't look the type?"

Lisa didn't say "no", but her face did. The man standing in front of her looked good on paper, his finances and tax records told the story of a young star on the rise. However, that usually didn't translate into much of a personality in real life. Lisa lived her life surrounded by the young and the ambitious and the one thing they had in common was that, outside of their careers, they tended to be hugely uninteresting. Since working downtown, Lisa sat through more stories centered on jobs secured by relatives than she cared to count.

"I used to dance in college," she finally said, sounding a little apologetic.

"Dance as in..."

"Yes," she said. "What, I don't look the type?"

Lisa enjoyed the conflict on his face as Wes struggled with which side of the yes/no equation was appropriate. She poured two glasses of wine as he finally gave up on actually answering the question and simply looked her up and down a few times, unashamedly undressing her with his eyes. This time his smile matched his eyes when he admired her curves, packed tightly into a modest suit.

"To...different circumstances," Wes finally said.

It was a strange toast, but charmingly clever and Lisa returned it.

The wine was good; their glasses only half-filled when Wes finally asked what made Lisa quit dancing.

"I graduated. It was just a way to pay for school."

"Sounds like me and bartending."

"What made you pick bartending anyway? You don't..."

"I really don't look the type?"

"No, not really."

It was true and he had to have known it. Even with his collar undone and his sleeves rolled up, he looked like a born accountant. Not unattractive, but kind of like Clark Kent when he wasn't Superman. There was a sort of 'everyday' look to him that most office workers had. Still, aside from looking dull at twenty paces out, Wes wasn't a bad-looking guy.

"I hate to admit it, but it seemed easy and I thought it would be fun forever."

"Wow."

"In my defense, I was twenty-one."

The two of them laughed and it was genuine, each of them forgetting about the other for a moment.

"I bet you were good at it."

"I was...pretty good anyway."

Wes refilled their glasses. When had she finished hers? Was it before they laughed or after? She knew she wasn't drunk, but time really did seem to be getting away from them. Outside, evening purpled into night and the first pinpricks of stars winked down between the clouds.

"I hope you don't mind," Wes said as he stepped out of his shoes, "But I've been standing all day."

"Oh, I completely understand. Just look at these things." Turning to one side and raising her heel, Lisa showed Wes her shoes, Italian stilettos that, despite the wonderful things they were doing to her legs, had to be absolutely agonizing to wear.

"Go ahead and take them off."

"You don't mind?"

"Of course not, make yourself at home."

"Thanks, these things are murder."

Lisa removed her shoes, slipping them off carefully to avoid stretching the expensive leather, and placed them together in front of the sofa. Walking back through the living room to the kitchen, the thick nap of the plush rug that dominated the room caressed her feet and Lisa made a mental note to have her clients walk barefoot across the carpet the next time she was showing a location.

In the kitchen, Wes had removed his tie and unbuttoned his shirt to the point where she could see the crease of his chest above the collar of his undershirt. His cuffs were rolled tightly above his elbows and, on his left forearm; Lisa could see the faded blue of an old tattoo. She tried to make out the general shape of it, but the soft slap of her bare feet against the kitchen floor brought his attention back to her and he brought his arm to his side, ink-side in.

"Can I be the first one to tell you that you have a lovely home," Lisa said, taking her wine glass, filled just above half-way. This time, she downed more of the glass in one sip than she had when Wes first poured them. It wasn't a gulp, but it didn't fit the semi-formal, sales professional image that she tried so hard to cultivate with every client. At a business lunch, Lisa could finish a glass of wine before the check came without leaving even the faintest lipstick smear. This time, a maroon crescent marked the place where her lips touched the glass.

"Thank you, I had a good realtor."

"That's what you better say."

They laughed and each took another drink. Lisa noticed that Wes wasn't exactly sipping at his glass either. In fact, if not for the way he held the delicate glass, the stem nested against the flat tip of each thick finger, Lisa could have easily imagined him swigging at a beer can in the same way.

There was something Neanderthal about Wes now that Lisa took a good, long look at him. A brutish, quiet swagger that he concealed with practiced ease, but which Lisa could now see had always been there. Lisa wondered how many times over the past few weeks Wes had looked at her with the eyes of his true self. Then she wondered how many times she had.

Leaning against his new kitchen sink, Wes stretched his shirt against his chest enough for Lisa to make out the faint rises and falls of his physique. She looked over the rim of her glass and sipped while imagining the sharp cuts of his chest muscles and the ripple of his stomach. After all, he'd helped himself to a view of her ass while she was reaching into the closet. Letting her eyes drop lower, she could just make out a gentle curve to the front of his slacks. Just under his belt buckle, she imagined what might be coiled behind his fly.

"Do you work out?" The wine asked the question, but Lisa still wanted to know the answer.

"A little," Wes said, his chest muscles giving off a faint ripple as the compliment struck.

Lisa set her wine glass, now empty, down before walking around the huge island in the middle of the kitchen to the other side where Wes was, still leaning against his sink and the outline of his body still drawn out in faint relief across the front of his shirt. Lisa asked herself if the wine was still in control, or if she was the one with her hand on the wheel, but by the time she got to Wes she didn't care.

As she prepared to lean back against the countertop, Wes leaned forward and pulled her towards him by the waist. They were close enough to kiss, and Lisa was about to, when she could feel something hot against her palm. Closing her hand gently on the stiffening mound in Wes' pants, her eyes widened in surprise. His movement was too sudden, he surprised her into it. Then, his mouth closed over hers and she forgot all about her embarrassment.

His hands went to her face and hers went around to the small of his back, one more reluctantly than the other. She was lost in him, the feel of his taut body under her hands, the taste of him in her mouth, the smell of him filling her head, the burn of his cock in the palm of her hand and her own burn which was deeper, lower, and more words than were worth the breath to make them. When she felt his hand press gently against the small of her back, she bit down on her need, surrendering only a whimper. She softened and let him crush her against him, smothering her with his kiss. She squirmed in his arms as something curled inside her, moving downward as though looking for a way out. She raked at his chest and back with her nails and kissed him like she was trying to devour him.

"Oh god...the bedroom..."

"No."

Lisa could feel his voice thump against his chest when he said it and her knees weakened just as Wes lifted her, by the ass, onto the large kitchen countertop. She placed a hand on his shoulder and watched his face as he reached up under her skirt, hooking his thumbs into her thong before sliding it down her thighs. The sensation of damp cotton pulling away from the bare, sensitive flesh of her pussy made her bring her knees together hard enough to sting them. The slight pain made her gasp, but the sudden sensation of heat and pressure against her pussy made her reflexively hold it.

Lisa could feel the smooth skin of Wes's forehead against the back of her thighs and the softness of his hair against her calves. When she spread her legs, helped in doing so by a hand with a firm grip on each thigh, she could see his eyes as his tongue explored first the outer, then the inner folds of her pussy. His tongue slid in and out, deep along the walls and over the throbbing bud of her clit, flicking at the hood and teasing the gleaming pearl behind it. Lisa's whole body shook with the effort of not screaming as Wes licked and sucked at her pussy endlessly.

The thin trickle of honey dripping from Lisa's swollen opening steadily increased until it streaked the cabinet doors under the countertop and formed a puddle on the floor. Lisa couldn't hear the drops of her juices over the sound of Wes eating her pussy, but she could feel them. She had never been this wet before and it felt like it was never going to stop. She didn't want it to stop. Reaching between her legs, she gripped the sides of his head and pulled him towards her. His tongue stabbed at the depths of her pussy, pulling a gush of hot fluid from her that coated her ass in a single spurt.

Lisa yelped in pleasure and surprise as everything below her navel became wetness. It felt like his tongue was melting her, to the point where she wondered how much more she could take before she ran out of whatever it was he was taking from her. Her belly button felt like it was tightening and she suddenly couldn't breathe. Her eyelids fluttered and she began mouthing at the air in silent gasps before finally wheezing out a scream that built to a roar as her orgasm took hold. When she opened her eyes again, Wes was smiling down at her, wiping some of her shine from his face.

"Oh my fucking god," Lisa finally said with a little laugh, still trying to get her breathing under control. Then Wes placed his cock, tightly bound in a cream-colored latex sheath, between her legs, the tip resting against her navel, and she said it again.

"I'll go in slow," he said, nudging the head of his cock against her opening. She sighed and she felt the pressure of his entry, the stretching of her walls, and the heat of her womb. She groaned and urged him on with nods and sharp, needy gasps while digging her nails into the backs of her thighs.

When he was inside, the shape of him imbedded deep in her, she released the breath she'd been holding in an inarticulate mutter, then grabbed another and held it as Wes began to slowly churn her pussy. She rocked and swayed her hips in time with the rhythmic swirl of his hips, digging into her and making her open herself. She squirmed until he found the bottom of her pussy and she could feel the head of his cock in her back. Placing a hand against his stomach, she pushed back against him, pressing her tight opening down on his shaft until she could feel the liquid burn of it stretching her.

Wes gripped her hips in his hands and began to work her slowly. She could feel the tension in his entire body as he strained to control himself while sliding his thickening cock in and out of her sopping pussy. The heat that radiated from him as he pushed down into her core caused her entire body to burn. Her clothes stuck to her and she wanted to tell him to rip them off. She could feel the thin elastic band in her thong digging into her legs and she wanted to tear it free so she could spread her legs open and take in as much of Wes as she could. All of this came out in a series of grunts and moans that began as her orgasm, but ended as his.

Lisa sat up on her elbows with her sweaty ass stuck to the countertop, her yellow thong strung painfully between her knees, and Wes, thick and throbbing somewhere behind her navel. When she looked up into his face, there was a thin line of sweat along his hairline and a streak of it had run along his cheek to fall somewhere, probably on her during their lovemaking. The thought of it striking her naked skin while he fucked her made her pussy twitch. Wes felt the movement and groaned against the side of her neck while the both of them waited for the sensation to go away and leave them with each other.

When he pulled away, he was gentle and she didn't feel used afterward the way some men had made her feel in the past, like they were returning to pick up something they'd left behind. When he removed his condom, his cock was coated in a silvery layer of his own cum and the condom itself was heavy with the rest of it. As she watched him toss it in a trash can under the sink, she wondered what it would have felt like to have had all that erupt inside her, another urge she couldn't remember experiencing before.

"Congratulations," she said when he stood to face her. "You have officially christened your new place." Sliding forward off the edge of the countertop, she pulled her thong back in place and slid her skirt back down over her thighs. Wes had fastened his fly, but left his belt unbuckled. It looked strangely erotic the more Lisa looked at it.

"Well," Wes said. "I don't think its official unless you spend the night."

Leaning forward and gripping one end of his belt, Lisa leaned her head into a kiss as she pulled the belt through all the loops on his slacks, then let it clatter to the floor.

"Do you remember where the bedroom is?"

"Yes," he said. "But let me follow you there anyway."