Paul Staggerly's first encounter with Missy de Mille was at a closing on a commercial property. The situation was odd from the beginning in that he had been retained by the estate of Henry P. Johnson of Des Moines, Iowa and asked to recommend a business property suitable for a ground level eatery with living quarters above. In addition to traditional shopping districts with storefronts, his assignment was vague enough to point him toward other sorts of structures like retired warehouses, abandoned churches, and movie theaters.
He had narrowed the search to three suitable locations in the old Tremont neighborhood and Ohio City when he met the buyer. He was surprised to find that she was a youthful brunette who might have been in her late twenties, but had an even more youthful demeanor. In the end, the traditional storefront in an area that had become home to artists garrets and shops promised the best response for a coffee shop that would also serve as a small roasting/packaging business. (He found out later, that another firm had procured mezzanine space in the Terminal Tower downtown and floor space in the Westside Market.)
This was entirely business, and the finder's fee floated the Agency through what was to become the first disastrous quarter in a downturn market. The other half of the equation was that the petite woman was stunning with, by all accounts, a body that would not quit! She had a habit of sitting with her hands on the table in front of her as if she wanted you to see that she wore no rings (that was, at least, Staggerly's hunch).
He had studied her well during their few meetings and had decided that once the coffee bistro opened, it would only be good business to patronize the new shop. In his mind, this was just business; yet something kept him from speaking of her to his wife. The subject, however, became unavoidable on the first Wednesday night that Missy appeared at the club. She and Paul clearly had a moment of mutual recognition that could not be disguised.
"How do you know her?" asked Caitlyn. The safest thing was to come clean about the business details, and skip the bursts of erotic thoughts.
"She was a client," he offered. "Remember the coffee shop that I found in Tremont?"
"You never mentioned that she was that young or attractive."
Paul shrugged. "It was just business." The laizzez-faire ease with which he spoke took a rather sudden u-turn, when they were walking back to the private rooms with their swap du jour and saw Missy in the public area. She was feeding off the admiration of onlookers as she successfully deep-throated a seven inch dick sporting a bright red condom.
"She wasn't doing anything like that when I met her," he said dryly, but he thought about those other lips as Caitlyn was going down on him later in the evening. He stopped for coffee at The Magic Beanery often, and exchanged friendly conversation with Missy. They never spoke about the club. It was an unwritten rule to guard the privacy of the members within the lifestyle. In time, however, he joined the line of men waiting to be serviced by Pivot_Grl. Caitlyn pretended to tolerate his request for observer status once the show began, but she knew that, in some way, he had become part of it.
So it was that the morning after Caitlyn first emailed DeVon, Paul was sipping coffee at the Beanery and remembering two nights earlier. He would have liked to broach other considerations to this delicious barista, but he feared that it would ruin what he had. He would have liked to see her naked. He would have liked to taste her on the way to a proper mounting, but she was always teasingly clothed and totally oral (as if none of her lined-up entourage involved sex and she was the untouchable virgin).
He had a girlfriend in college who practiced a similar drill. "Fellatio doesn't get you pregnant," she would say. He eventually married her, but she didn't have the ability of Missy.
When Wednesday finally came, Caitlyn did her best to mask her enthusiasm. She was going to meet her lover. It was all arranged via email and well under Paul's radar when he unthinkingly announced that Pivot_Grl was on the list of those planning to attend.
"She does manage to draw a crowd," said Caitlyn in a tone so detached that Paul looked to try and read a facial expression which was as indifferent as her voice. She wore an animal print tunic that was sheer enough to reveal the color variation between her firm breasts and the rose tint of her nipples.
She chose it to surprise DeVon who made a curious remark at first seeing here nude. "I can tell you're a true blonde," he had observed after pulling his sucking lips from her tightened bud. "Only blondes and redheads have these light colored nips."
