Finding Nancy

She was a sleek little Platinum blond, small, but almost doll-like in her physical perfection. She was one of those women that has runway model beauty from head to toe. Her hair was fashionably long; her face was beautiful rather than just pretty and her breasts were small, but not unattractively so.

He had called a friend who was a real estate broker, looking for a house to buy in a specific area following the final divorce decree. The friend had set up a meeting with one of his top agents. He was not looking for a new spouse, just a new house.

When Nancy picked him up that first day to look at houses, he was immediately struck by her classic beauty. It was impossible not to looks at her; she was that kind of beauty that turns heads and causes pauses in conversations. She smiled easily and she was charming. As they drove to the first house, he knew he wanted to fuck her; hell, any and every straight man that ever saw her wanted to fuck her. She was wearing a sleek, tight fitting white dress that accentuated her firm young thighs, the soft swell of her hips and that tight sculpted ass.

The car was late model, foreign and expensive. The automaker would have done well to plant her in the driver's seat in the ads; they would have sold a bunch. The clothes, the jewelry, the shoes and the purse spoke of success. She was an exceptional agent; she had done her homework and had selected five houses that appeared to exactly meet his requirements.

Let's find this house I'm going to buy and keep this relationship professional, he thought. There'll be plenty of time for, 'other pursuits' after the deal is done. I'm a good looking guy, also successful and she's going to get a fat commission if she can pull off the right deal. Keep your brains in your head.

She had set the appointments to visit the five houses to the best of her ability. They stopped to grab a cup of coffee between number two and number three, giving him a chance to sit directly across from her so he could study her without being obvious. She was a little flirtatious, but he wrote that off as a sales person attempting to, 'bond' with a new client.

He got a tinge of uneasiness as the day went on. She is charming; is it because she wants to make this sale, or because she is, 'interested'? He decided to call on his friend, the broker, at the end of the day, to get the lowdown on young Nancy.

He'd already secured financing on his own, through a bank with which he'd had a long standing relationship. He'd recently converted securities to cash during a market high. His bank didn't sell their paper; they had, in effect, approved him up to a designated figure and knew he would put at least twenty percent down. Since they held on to their mortgages, they could close as quickly as the survey, appraisal and other inspections were performed. They used their own people for these tasks and handled their own title work.

While he and Nancy went to all five houses, the third one was the charm; the fifth one was the backup in cases the deal couldn't be done to his satisfaction. They went back to her office and wrote up an offer. She left to take the offer to the seller's agent. He decided to chat with the boss.

"What do you think of Nancy?" Her boss said, greeting him with a big smile.

"She seems extremely competent, not to mention easy on the eyes." He replied.

"She's both. She's particularly adept at your kind of quick, pre-approved deal. She's a good little negotiator; you'll be pleased at how hard she fights for her buyer." Her boss said, but as he trailed off, there was obviously something more that her boss wasn't sure he was going to say.

"What?" He said to her boss. "You and he have known each other for long enough that I strongly sense there is a, 'but'." He countered.

"Look, buddy." Her boss began. "I know you're just trolling since your divorce. I have no doubt that you can get into Nancy's expensive little pants. One of the reasons Nancy is so damned good at this work is that she is a manipulator and a chameleon. Nancy doesn't do anything without a plan and a purpose. As good as she is at selling houses, she desperately wants to bag a guy, a guy like you, who has assets and solid six figure income; she wants a ring and a walk down the aisle. With the right guy, she'll do anything to get there. I don't want to say she's a gold digger, but yea, he think she's a bit of a gold digger."

Her boss continued. "Just be careful, old friend. I know you're not looking for a new wife, at least not right now. You seem stronger than I thought you'd be, but Nancy can be extremely persuasive. She wraps impressionable men around her little finger with ease."

He drove home to his temporary digs thinking about her boss's words. She called about two hours later to tell him there was a counter offer. She volunteered to bring it over to my house.

Nancy was always selling; she told him immediately on seeing the house he was living in, small but old and quaint, that she thought she had a buyer. He told her that he had a 100% VA on the house and planned to keep it as a possible rental property, not sell it. You could see the dollar signs in her eyes and she calculated his combined mortgage payments in attempting to assess my cash flow.

Nancy had changed clothes; this outfit was more, 'business casual', consisting of a fashionably short skirt and blouse and, 'please fuck him' pumps. As he sat at the dining room table, she leaned in close over his shoulder to go over the counter offer. He could feel her warmth and inhale her fresh, womanly scent. A hint of perfume; it was one of his favorites.

While he wanted to pay as little as possible for this new house, the one in question was instantly available and exactly met his needs. It was a good faith counter offer; he felt that they were probably one or two more rounds of counters away from a deal he could live with.

She called the other agent, and was told that one more round that night was very probable. The owners were night owls, and if Nancy's client was amendable they'd like to counter his counter that night. Nancy gave the other agent directions to his house. When the doorbell rang a few minutes later, Nancy answered the door. The two real estate agents chatted for less than a minute. The seller's agent headed of to convey his counter offer.

"Nancy, any idea how long this is going to take?" he queried.

"The sellers are very motivated to sell. They've put an offer on another home. They'd like to see this deal done quickly, actually need to get it done. I know you want to move quickly also, but you don't 'have to' so you're in the power seat." She informed him.

With no thought of anything other than convenience, and a chance to get to know her a little better, he made a suggestion. "If you like, you're more than welcome to stay here while we wait for the counter. I'm going to have a glass of wine; can he offer you a glass?"

She accepted. She preferred white to red; not his kind of gal, but he could drink Chardonnay if he had to, as long as it was neither cheap nor California oaky. He opened a fifty dollar Reserve Chard and was pleased that she instantly recognized a great glass of wine and responded with the right phrases as she evaluated the wine.

He asked her questions about herself, not really receiving deep, insightful answers. She asked him a number of questions, most of which involved his business, his financial status and his post divorce dating regimen.

As nicely and carefully as she conducted her inquiry, he felt a little bit like a mark being sized up for the scam. Nancy was very confident around men. She also was a, 'knockout' and, as they chatted, she became more flirtatious. He was being played, but played by a professional. It wasn't unpleasant; she knew how to stroke a man's ego without being too obvious. He had spent worse evenings with a woman; he decided to let her play her hand. Best case, he'd ultimately get laid by an extremely attractive woman. Worse case, she'd decide that he was not marriage material; she'd do her job and we'd move on.

It took longer than an hour; it was almost two hours when the other agent called to say she was bringing the new offer over. It was decided that any counter they might put together would not be presented until the next afternoon. Nancy felt that it would be good to let the sellers, 'stew' a bit.

As it got close to midnight, Nancy and he read over the sellers offer. He suggested that it was now time to, 'make the final' offer; she agreed. They quickly wrote it up and she got ready to leave. At the door, she gave him a friendly little hug and peck on the cheek and assured him that they would chat sometime the next morning before she presented the final offer. She felt warm and tight; she smelled good. It was impossible not to get an instant groin reaction to her fresh young body.

He stopped by her office the next morning and we made a couple of minor wording changes in the offer. It was a fair, 'win-win' offer; the sellers accepted it. Since they didn't still live in the house, closing would be as soon as my bank could accomplish it. We formalized the sales agreement, ran it back to the sellers agent, got all the signatures and he headed down the street the five minutes or so to deliver it to my bank.

His contact at the bank was a friend, head of the loan committee an officer and, it turned out a founding member of the banks board. When he saw the address of the house, he chuckled.

"We almost had a deal on this house a couple of weeks back. The buyers, unfortunately, had another house to sell and couldn't get the down payment together without that sale. We've already done all the inspections, the appraisal and the survey. It'll take a few minutes to update the title search. First, you negotiated a good deal; it's comfortably under the appraisal. Second it's less than thirty days, so all that paper work is still valid. All I need to do is convene the loan committee, which can be done within the hour. Your money market account is with our bank, so we can just transfer from your account to escrow. When do you want to close?" He inquired.

Nancy had told him that the sellers, 'needed' to close quickly. "I'd be happy to close tomorrow morning; if I can use your phone, let him see if that works for the sellers." He replied.

He called Nancy, giving her the Bank President's office number. She got back to him in less than ten minutes, confirmed that, as he had requested, the closing would be at his bank. She asked how quickly the bank could get the paperwork together for the sellers to sign, expressing surprise at how quickly this deal was coming together. He handed the phone to the Bank President.

He brought her up to speed, telling her that since this was not an FHA or VA loan and that the bank would keep the mortgage in their portfolio, that it would take no time to type up the sales contract and the deed. They already had the legal description on the property, had all the paperwork in the word processor based on the former contract and it would be simply a matter of changing the buyers info and printing it off. Nancy agreed to pick up the paper work around 3:00 PM; get the appropriate signatures and notarizations and bring it back that afternoon.

The sellers weren't going to attend closing; their agent would attend on their behalf. The Bank President did not know Nancy, but knew her boss and his firm and was comfortable that they would do as they promised.

She did her thing; he arrived at the bank the next morning and began signing papers before the sellers agent even arrived. By the time she arrived at nine, we were essentially done and he owned a new house. As the office cleared, the Bank President couldn't help commenting on how attractive young Nancy was. She had that effect on people.

Most of the furniture in his current home consisted of the remains from his divorce; he had no intention of moving any of it, keeping the old house as a furnished rental. He had essentially picked out all new furniture for my new house. It was less traditional and far more modern than he was used to. He was making a complete break with the old. He called the furniture store and gave them the new address and they indicated that they could deliver the next day. He called a lock service, his regular cleaning company, water softener company, fence company (he had two big dogs) and all the other people you need to call when you move into a new house.

It was essentially, a brand new house. He never got all the details on why the former owners were selling, but got a sense that they had custom built it on a small inlet with access to the ocean and quickly realized that they were over their heads when the mortgage payment began to come due.

That afternoon, his cleaners did their thing, the fence guy was setting posts, the locksmith was changing and adding locks, the pool was being serviced and other workers were doing their things. He had moved often in my business life, had owned numerous houses and knew how to get through the process in very short order.

He went back to my other house to pick up the personal items he would be taking; there was a message from Nancy. He beeped her. She called back within a couple of minutes, wanting to bring him a house warming gift. He put her off until the next day, telling her he was up to my ears in busy. He suggested she stop by the new house the next evening, after 5:00 PM and invited her to join him for the first dinner in my new home. She was genuinely surprised that he was moving so quickly, and accepted the dinner invite.

By the time she arrived, right on time that next evening, he was moved in. The house came with window treatments; they were fine, at least for the moment. Two maids, whom he had used before, were making beds and organizing my kitchen. A decorator friend was just finishing up arranging do-dads. The stereo guy was just leaving. Nancy was absolutely amazed at how much had occurred in a little less than two days.

Now, Nancy always looked good, but as she knocked on his open front door and came into view; she was positively fetching. This was the most casual he had seen her; Beachy sandals showed off her delightfully attractive feet and displayed her long, lean legs at their best. Short shorts, or maybe, more accurately, hot pants, perfectly cupped her stunning young ass. A thin cotton blouse, no bra---she didn't really need one---completed the effect. Her hair was loose and free, relieved of the, 'business like' confines he had grown accustom to. He was also pleased to see that she wore almost no makeup. She looked good enough to eat, a thought which did cross his mind. She seemed more relaxed than he remembered as she asked where to put the traditional house warming potted plant.

He offered her a glass of wine; she chose the Cab over the Chard. She'd done her homework. He had some soft jazz on the stereo. He deposited her in the over stuffed couch in the great room and told her to make herself comfortable while he showered and changed. He almost beat off in the shower thinking about what a hot little fuck mate she would be.

By the time he returned, dressed equally casually, all of the workers were gone and she was stretched out on a chaise out on the pool deck, all long legs and softly blowing hair.

This was to be the friendly, flirtatious, 'if you play your cards right you might get him in the sack', Nancy. She had all of the moves, the hair flips, the hand resting on the arm, the piercing, wide set, deep blue eyes twinkling. An easy laugh, a flirtatious smile---she was moving into seduction mode. What the fuck, he thought. Maybe she's a prick tease. Maybe she is one of those extraordinarily beautiful women who is terrible in bed, figuring that her beauty is all she has to bring to the show. Time would tell.

He threw together a Veal Marsala, a Caesar salad and some linguine. He was an excellent cook. As elegant as it sounded, it is an easy dinner that requires minimal prep work. She liked anchovies and garlic and joked that as long as he was having lots of them, she would too. It seemed like a hint that she might have plans for her evening with him.

She raved over the dinner, having had no indication that he was domestic. She also liked to cook and her knowledge of things culinary seemed to bear that out. She helped clear the table. He told her he seldom did dessert, but offered her a choice of after dinner drinks from his limited larder. She chose the 20 year old Grand Marnier and he had the same.

There was a chill in the air so we passed on the pool area and settled on the couch in the great room. He ignited the gas logs in the fireplace as he sensed that Nancy was trying to decide, 'fuck him now, or later'? She'd made her decision. He'd already decided that, if anything was going to happen, she'd have to make the move. As he sat back down on the sofa with her, she moved in close and kissed him, warm, wet and long as her arms went round my neck. She was an astounding kisser.

They made out on the couch with few words for almost half and hour. She had his shirt off and he had her blouse unbuttoned. He'd unzipped her shorts and palmed her pussy. She'd done the same to his shorts and was fondling his boner.

In her best, 'I think I love you' voice, she moved us up a notch.

"Let's take this to the bedroom." She softly said.

They removed each others remaining garments, standing by the bed. She was a vision of astounding beauty in the soft moon light. She was not a cock tease. Oh, she teased his cock, but only as a prelude to sinking to her knees and engulfing it her mouth.

At least orally, she was neither inexperienced nor unskilled. It was one of the best three blow jobs he'd ever had. She had to have taken lessons. He came quickly in her mouth and she swallowed every drop. It was his turn to get oral.

He lifted her to the edge of the bed, knelt on the floor and gave her his own excellent oral technique. Her pussy was sweet and fragrant. As she was being eaten she moved and cooed. Some woman just look so damned sexy when you're tonguing their little muff. Nancy was one of those. She came fairly quickly; the soft beads of sweat and the increase in vaginal secretions convinced him that it was not an act.

With few additional preliminaries, he moved up her body, moving her with him so that they were both on the oversized bed. Her knees came up to her chest, as if on cue and he entered her tight little pussy. Her cunt was incredibly tight and hot. He made love to her face as he began a long, slow, deep fuck. He was still good and hard; he was young enough to still keep it up after a blow job and satisfy a woman with my cock. He knew he could last as long as she needed him to. Then he would need a break for an hour.

She was a great fuck, passionate and lusty. She moved with him. He wasn't fucking her; they were fucking as a team. In retrospect, she was absolutely great in bed. It was storybook sex. He held off until he felt her getting close, and then dumped a load deep in her pussy. They touched and fondled in post coital bliss. Yep. This was the kind of woman that any man would fall in love with. Worse, or better, depending on your perspective, once he got inside her pussy, he'd want to come back again and again.

There was a sun room off the master bed room, and the two of us drifted out to watch the moonlight reflect off the water, still naked, still touching and fondling. He stood behind her, stroking her cum drenched pussy with one hand as his dick began to respond to the soft cleft of her amazing ass. He wanted her again and his dick was telling him that it would be ready very soon.

There was a railing in front of the glass in the sun room, intended to keep someone from accidentally walking through the glass and plunging to their death. Nancy was leaning up against the railing; she pushed her tight little ass back against him as she felt him recover, rotating that delicious butt in small circles. She was gently fucking his dick with her ass crack.