He noticed her as soon as she walked into the gallery hall. She was in a gorgeous black gown that sparkled in the lights. She was obviously well-to-do, or it may have been the older man she was with that helped her out; either way she was classy.
He was in his usual working attire: white dress shirt and black pants, which had slowly lost their appeal with the spills and stains that come with catering such drunken parties. This particular night was an art showing, a very expensive art showing and quite an erotic display of artistic talent. Nudity was hardly the taboo in these paintings. Most were of men and women in varying sexual positions, some with multiple partners, some alone masturbating. All showed similar sex faces, heads thrown back, full of ecstasy.
Bryson found it difficult to keep his mind on work, especially with her around. He could hear around her very loud and gathering conversations that her name was Amy and she did have a financial interest in art. Her gentleman with her was in fact her manservant and not her date. Although the fantasy seemed unlikely, Bryson still excited in the fact that she was seemingly unattached.
Bryson continuously went back to Amy's conversating group, taking empty glasses, refilling old ones; however, his intention was to admire her. Amy was a vision in the gown she wore. It was very low cut, showing large, golden swells where her breasts peaked out from her V neckline. Her dress was long but still showed she was towering over her male audience with a pair of stiletto, black heals. Bryson loved women in heals. It was a masochist fantasy about women digging their heals into his side that got him off the fastest.
As the hours past the drinks came more steadily. Amy was quite a drinker. Her polite sipping turned into practically gulping her wine and motioning Bryson to bring her another. Bryson also noticed the longer she drank, the louder she became and more flirtatious with her admiring crowd. The animated way she laughed almost reminded him of the orgasmic faces of the people in the paintings; Bryson soon found himself soaking in the idea of giving Amy those faces.
He was starting to become annoyed, however, as Amy drank more and called on him more, especially since he had to continuously hide his growing erection on his thoughts of putting her in her place, in his own manner. She slowly started to acknowledge his existence; not in a friendly manner however. She would bark demands at him and eye him cruelly if he was not immediate with her demands.
Her demure with others, though, was much friendlier. She was practically leaning on a fellow in an expensive-looking tuxedo. He wore a lot of glamorous jewelry for a man and obviously liked showing off his wealth. Amy seemed to enjoy his "showing off" as well. She was obviously flirting with him, in a very forwardly-sexual way. She would hang her lip off the edge of her glass just a second too long, or pull her dress up a little too high to adjust her panty stockings. She had gorgeous legs, long and fit; she also made it obvious she was wearing a garter to hold up her stockings. Although he seemed unaware of her advances, Bryson was paying close attention to her sexual frustration.
Bryson decided he had had enough of her attitude and figured she had had enough to drink as well and stopped adhering to her commands. He still watched her from afar, giving him enough view of her body to continue his fantasies of her. He put his mind to the rest of the guests and continued to admire the paintings. But when he looked back to steal another glance at his drunken fantasy, she was missing. Her elite counterpart was still there and so was her man-servant, so she hadn't escaped far.
Figuring she would return he went along with his duties and returned to the bar to fill his empty drink tray. As he lined the dark hallway to the bar he was pulled off balance by a pair of strong hands into an empty meeting room.
"I know you've been looking at me tonight," she spoke with a husky voice.
He could not see a thing in the dark but assumed he was talking to the lustrous Amy. His assumptions changed when he felt a warm hand wrap around his hard dick through his pants. But he could see her now as his vision adjusted and street lights lit up the room with shadows of gray. Her face was illuminating. Although she reeked of alcohol she projected a lustful scent. Her deep breathing heaved her full breasts up and down in her dress and he could feel himself getting even harder.
"And I know you want me . . . but I am not to be had by the likes of you, so you can stop with your foolish fantasies," she concluded before storming out of the room.
He didn't know whether to be turned on or angry, but he would definitely have something to say the next time she pulled something like that.
Bryson continued to ignore her loud commands for more drinks and service. He did little to give her any attention, even eyeing her, although he did catch her more than once glaring at him. He decided to toy with her arrogance and began flirting with the company, being extra-attentive to one particularly attractive guest, who was reciprocating her attention nicely.
Amy obviously noticed and was more obviously annoyed with the charade. She repeatedly attempted to pull her gentleman away from the group and entice him to take her home with him. He welcomed the advances, stealing a grope of her breasts, which by now were swelling out of the dress, threatening to expose a nipple soon. Bryson could see her prized body being fondled and wondered if she would be as aroused if he had his mouth over one of those nipples. However, her attempts obviously failed when her man casually went back to parading with the other upperclassmen.
Bryson giggled to himself at her frustration. He did not understand what bothered her so much about him, but he had taken some entertainment in all this and continued to picture himself fucking her silly, regardless of her threats. He eventually lost sight of her again and figured she had requested her manservant to take her home. He had been exhausted from the evening and being on his feet and decided to steal a few minutes away in the private restroom before catering to more drunken demands.
He took advantage of some of the toiletries in the restroom, roaming through the expensive colognes and hand lotions. He heard the door but before he could turn around he felt her familiar hands grab him by the sides.
"Enjoying the evening?" she asked him in a surprisingly friendly manner.
He didn't answer.
"I do enjoy these types of gallery evenings, the artist is one of my favorites" she continued as she firmly moved her hands to the front of his waist and began fingering his belt.
He grabbed her hands and spun around with a determined look on his face.
"I'll ask you not to touch me ma'm," he sternly told her before throwing her hand away.
She seemed unmoved by his actions. She was obviously drunk and he wondered if she even knew who he was. Her dress was starting to hang more on her petite body and as she stumbled backward to catch herself, he got the first glimpse of her erect nipple as it finally escaped her dress.
He couldn't help but stare, her body was absolutely beautiful. She had huge, full breasts which were obviously tanned and stood perky off her chest. Her dark nipple was perk as well with a hard areola that begged to be sucked. He tried not to let her see but he was instantly erect.
"Don't lie, I know you still want me," she said, surprisingly not slurred.
Obviously she knew who he was, but he couldn't figure out what she wanted exactly.
"Can I get you something ma'm?" he asked with his same, stern tone.
"You can come over here and touch me," she replied, leaning back and groping her exposed nipple with her fingertips.
She played with herself expertly, at first pinching her nipples and then lightly flicking them, losing herself in the pleasure for a moment. Bryson could not believe what he was seeing; an hour ago she was telling him to stop picturing exactly what she was displaying for him currently. Still he was too strong-willed to let a little seduction let her get what she wanted after that insulting gesture earlier in the evening.
"Not exactly part of my job description," he said sarcastically as he headed for the door to leave her in her sexual frustration.
"No!" she screamed as she blocked him from the door.
She definitely glowed when she got angry. He still could not figure her out but decided it would be more fun to fuck with her than deny her what she wanted simply out of spite.
"Is this what you want . . ." he asked seductively as he reached down inside her dress and thumbed a nipple.
"Yes," she breathed as she closed her eyes and concentrated on his tempting touches.
He had her practically cornered. After subtly teasing her nipples one at a time he cupped her entire breast and began massaging the firm flesh. She gasped at his increased advances but he cut her short with a hard, lustful kiss. She gulped in his kiss as heavily as she downed her glasses of wine. Bryson continued to tease and pinch her nipples as she moaned into his mouth and stroked her tongue seductively with his. She paused for just a moment to strip her dress down to her waist to give him full assess to her perfect tits. She was definitely a bitch but a sexy one.
She tried to take control of the situation again and he knew to take hold of her. He slammed her into the corner of the wall and took her venturing hands above her head, leaving her hanging breasts to his disposal.
"Sshhhh," he breathed over her mouth as his face lowered to her heaving breasts.
She still squirmed, waiting for his next move. He could practically smell her cumming in anticipation. He looked up at her face and smiled. He was completely fucking with her and by the look of desperation on her face he knew he was working her over bad. He leaned in and lightly licked one of her nipples. She tried to lean forward but her attempts were in vain as Bryson stiffened his grip on her hands. He moved to the next nipple and repeated his torturous teasing on her obviously sensitive nipples. After coating each nipple with wetness he began to lightly blow on each shaking breast and watched with great reward as her nipples became harder and tighter.
"Oh, please . . . please touch me," she wined and strained against him. "I've wanted you to touch me all night."
