Susie Sells Papers!

Susanna Cox sat in the Sacred Heart waiting room with her legs crossed. It was a cool day, so she wore a plaid coat over her dress, yet her legs were in pantyhose and she wore black heels. Her purse was beside her and her coat open, revealing a blue skirt with matching blazer and white lace blouse with the top button open. She checked her face in her compact: her brown eyes and delicate nose were perfectly made up, with soft eyebrows and her red lipsticked mouth with full lips shone in the flourescent light. She tapped her foot in the air over her crossed legs as she waited for her former pastor to see her.

A door opened and Fr. Christian Farnsworth emerged. He was a genial man in his late 50's, his face clean shaven and blue eyes danced under white hair and eyebrows. A warm smile creased his face as he extended a hand. "Susie, so good to see you again. It's nice to meet a familiar face from the Chancery for once."

She stood and extended her gloved hand. "How are you, Father Farnsworth? It's been ages."

"Fine, Susie, but don't be so formal. We've been through so much together, call me Chris again. Gosh, it must be cold outside today. Take your gloves off and spend a while. How long has it been?"

"A couple of years at least."

"Three and a half, I think. We had my going away party the same night as my fifty-fifth birthday, and I'm 58 and a half."

"You know best, Father."

He opened the door and ushered her through. "If only more people had that attitude, Susie." Turning to his secretary behind the desk, he said: "Hold my calls except in emergency ones, Becky. I'll be at least an hour."

They walked down a short hallway and he led her into a warm, richly appointed office. Susanna looked around before sitting down. "Wow, you've come up in the world. This is three times bigger than your office at St. Vincent's."

Chris walked around the huge, antique desk and sat in an overstuffed chair. "My predecessor had rather lavish tastes, and he wasn't able to take everything with him. My, it's good to see you, Susie. It brings back good memories."

"Is your new housekeeper better than I was?"

"No, no, no-one could be better than you," he said chuckling. "I miss your cooking dreadfully. Must have dropped 20 pounds since I got here."

"Maybe I could send you some cookies?"

"I think Mrs. Calvedos would be jealous."

They chuckled and he settled back, locking his fingers behind his head. "Now you're working at the Chancery. How's that going?"

She looked down and sniffed. "It's not good, Chris. I love the office, my boss, and the people I'm working with, but the job is impossible."

"Who wouldn't want to read the diocesan paper?"

A snort. "You're being sarcastic."

"Yes. Tell me your troubles, Susie."

"I'm in charge of parish relations, which means I have to go around and visit pastors."

"You should love that."

"Oh yes, but they don't want to see me. My job is increasing circulation, and I'm supposed to get 200 new subscriptions a month. But ever since they stopped giving it away and made people take subscriptions, people haven't signed up as expected. Putting the paper online hasn't helped, either. You know the bishop has instructed the priests to do everything they can to increase circulation, but every priest I've talked to has blown me off, and most don't want to see me."

Chris rocked back and looked at the ceiling. "I see. You've got a tough job."

Susie nodded. "The receptionist tells me I've got the toughest job in the office. They've had two girls on this job in the past year, and if I had a better option, I'd take it. You don't have a staff position here, do you?"

He shook his head. "Your husband, Fred, is still working isn't he?"

"Yes."

"Your kids are in school?"

"Yeah, the baby's in first grade."

"I remember the baptism. Gosh, is Terri in First Grade already? Doesn't seem possible." He swayed in his chair. "I don't know how I can help you, Susie. There aren't any people I know want to be on your list, nor do I know how to get you into Pastor's offices."

There was a long silence. She looked down at the floor while he daydreamed into the ceiling.

"I'd do anything to succeed," she said at last. "Maybe if I gave hand jobs. . ."

He sat up straight and looked at her. "Do you still get turned on by men in collars?" She blushed and looked away. "I remember our talks after dinner, Susie. We were honest with each other; I haven't told many people I'm gay, and I know you haven't told your husband about your longing. You told me about your wild college days."

She shuffled her feet on the floor. "It still turns me on. I take good care of a priest, you know that, Chris. Not just cooking and cleaning. Anything."

He sat up, leaned forward and whispered: "I think I can help you. You interested?"

"Really?"

"Really, really."

"You think priests would give me names in exchange for hand jobs?"

He looked right and left, conspiratorially. "Yes. I know you can be trusted."

"What, a hundred names for a hand job? 250 for a blow job, 500 if I swallow?"

His fingers drummed on the desk as he thought. "At 40 dollars a year per subscription, that rate is a little high. You might have to make repeat visits. Maybe a series of 10?"

"How about 8?"

"Okay, I think I can sell that. One month of action, twice a week, for 100 names. The paper is recyclable, so it's not a complete loss, and they can put the charge in their budget rather than being out of pocket. More names for more. . .involved requests. How much are you game for?"

Her eyes sparkled. "I'm still a bad girl. It's been too long, and I'll go a long way."

"Oral?"

"And more. Lots, lots more."

He pushed back from his desk. "Okay, you need to show me how good you are."

She started and sat up. "How?"

"Do me now."

Her hand came up to her mouth. "But you're gay, Chris."

"So it's a fair test of your abilities. If you can get this old gay mare excited, I can recommend you with a clear conscience."

Tentatively, she walked over beside him. Kneeling down, she unzipped his fly slowly, licking her lips. He watched her with a calm expression, as she gently eased his cock from his boxers. Flicking open a desk drawer, he took out a pair of long, black gloves. "Put these on."

She gave him a quizzical look. "What are these doing in your drawer?"

"Don't ask. Always liked jacking off wearing women's gloves, they're so soft. This is giving you a chance. Put them on."

They were black, arm length silk gloves, and they fit her hands perfectly as she slipped them on. "I've never worn something so soft. Like Audrey Hepburn."

"Yes, like Audrey Hepburn. I always found her sexy."

"You always found her sexy?"

"Hey, who votes a straight party ticket?"

"Straight party ticket? That's funny, coming from you."

"Get to work. I don't have all afternoon and you've got something to prove."

Easing his trousers lower, her black fingers began trailing circles and waves on his flabby white thighs. They dipped beside his scrotum, swirled up his penis sand circled his corona. Caressing his balls, she leaned over to drop some foamy white saliva on his skin, then worked it into his shaft with long strokes.

His face relaxed and he took a deep breath. Encouraged, she dropped a little more lubrication and coaxed him to rigidity. After a few strokes, she played around his scrotum and up his shaft to twirl her finger around the head, then grasped him to give him a few more strokes. His breathing grew a little shallower and quicker; drops of semen began to appear.

Gathering the glistening drop with her tongue, she took it to his mouth for him to suck off He looked at her tongue with its nectar curiously for a moment before reaching out to taste it, her hands returning to their worship.

Looking at him all the time, she dropped some more saliva on his now reddening member to facilitate her work. He groaned and she picked up the pace slightly, drawing more dewy liquid from the object of her affections.

A quizzical look from her was met with bewilderment, and she reached down to take the spongy head between her lips. He gasped as her tongue swirled around his corona, her mouth sucking gently, before it ran down the underside to tease his testicles, her silky hand returning to its gentle manipulation.

A series of deep breaths and she increased her pace, both with her tongue on his balls and her hand on his cock. His face turned bright red and biting his tongue, he sent out thick, white streams that landed on her face from her nose down. It seemed an eternity the fountain jetted streams until finally subsiding to a trickle.

Christian looked at her spermed face and asked after he recovered his breath: "Are you sure you aren't a boy in drag?"

Licking the liquid from his skin, she looked at him with sultry smile and asked: "I take it you'll help me."

"Yes, yes, yes. I'll set it up. In a couple of days, and circulation will start going up. I guarantee it."