Chapter 6
"Paige, really! Was that necessary," her mother remonstrated with little conviction in her voice.
Paige ignored her mother. She looked instead at the man at her feet. Thought he was barely conscious, he groaned slightly. "Don't you ever think of touching a girl without asking permission," she hissed. "If you move from there before I tell you to, that thing of yours will never get hard again."
He looked up at her. They both knew he understood. They also both knew he would not move until she told him he could.
She continued to glare at him, and made ready to leave. It had been an interview for her upcoming appearance in a beauty pageant his firm sponsored each year. They had gotten through evaluating her in a general interview which showed her to be bright and articulate. She had changed in an ante room into an outfit the firm used for promotion. It consisted of a much too short skirt and a much too tight top. She passed without question.
Finally he had asked to see her in a bathing suit. It was another of his firm's outfits. The tiny halter showed all of her breasts with the exception of tiny coverage for her nipples. The bottom was so tight that if she hadn't shaved herself completely even her pussy curls would have shown through the thin material. As it was the material completely outlined her pussy lips in what he felt was a very appealing fashion.
"This hardly covers anything. Let's see what you look like without it," he had said reaching for the tiny halter. An audible gasp came from her mother. It wasn't for fear of her daughter's modesty. It was for fear of the man's overall health.
As his hand touched her breast reaching for the halter strap, Paige leaned into his motion with a slight crouch. He never quite understood what happened next. He remembered only the feeling of an airborne cartwheel and the painful landing on his back.
She continued to look down. Her frightful expression of anger was now only a malevolent smile. The noise of his landing brought no assistance. The office was closed for the week. It was the time when he interviewed pageant hopefuls. A time when he felt soft, feminine flesh. A time when successful hopefuls frequently ended on their backs or at least on their knees. A time after which he went home in a light mood knowing that as expertly as this one had brought him to a climax, there were others who would try at least as hard. And hard was what this was all about.
Now he lay fearing his back was broken. He broke eye contact with the bitch and stared at the ceiling in pain.
She moved into his vision leaning slightly over him. She was still smiling. He looked at her, then away. He became aware of her motion and realized that she was removing the bottoms of her suit. It was so tight, it resisted, but as she pulled on it, she showed him that pussy he had been drooling over.
She dropped the flimsy material on his chest and stood over him, near his feet, but not too close. She was taunting him with a startling view. She spread her legs slightly. The malevolent smile never changed.
Even through the pain, his cock began to harden.
She took the strap of the halter top in the manner he had attempted and pulled it free of her breasts. They swayed with their release. She brought her hands from her waist upward and cupped her breasts for him to view. Then putting her hands on her hips, arms akimbo she gave him her Wonder Woman look.
It was a brief look. She turned and walked slowly to the ante room where her street clothes waited. He watched her hips sway as she left the room. He was hard, but the pain didn't permit him to move. Nor did his good sense.
She returned in moments with her street clothes. Facing him again, she slipped on an unremarkable pair of white panties and drew her fingers along the now hidden slit.
A t-shirt, no bra. The shirt was emblazoned "Bengal Taekwondo" in a semicircle over the head of a Bengal tiger with the words Black Belt beneath. A pair of designer jeans and sandals completed the outfit.
"When the door closes, you can get up," she told him as she and her mother left. The door closed. He didn't move. His cock was no longer hard.
Stefanie looked at her daughter and sighed, "We probably would have won. I wonder if he broke his back. Did you get all your clothes?"
"Mom," Paige was a bit exasperated with her mom's constant lack of focus. She was also running high on the adrenaline from the encounter. "One thing at a time. First, yes, I probably would have won, but it barely paid expenses and I don't need another win on my resume. Second, there are several others in about a week that we can think about entering. Don't worry about that." She let her breath out noisily. "Yes, I did get my clothes." She had seen her mom looking at her chest. She boosted her breasts with her free hand. "I didn't wear a bra over there. It's not that I forgot it. I just didn't feel like a bra this morning."
"You know, honey, they'll . . . ."
Paige interrupted impatiently, "I know, I know. When I'm your age, they'll be hanging to my knees. Right now let the boys look. I like the stares. I absolutely love it when they can't look me in the eye and they get this bulge in their pants."
"Well . . . ," her mother began again.
"And, lastly, about Mr. Can't Keep His Hands to Himself's back, fuck him." The bright pageant smile had returned.
"Alright, if you say dear," her mother sighed again and focused on finding their car in the parking garage.
Paige drove. The smile was back to a smirk. The attendant taking payment as they left the garage had been a middle aged male. As Paige handed him the ticket and a five dollar bill, he fumbled the exchange. His seat left him on a level with Paige's chest as she sat in the driver's seat of the SUV.
He was unable to read the t-shirt, but light passing through the material provided a vivid view.
He made change and handed the money back. Several coins fell onto the pavement. He hurried from his booth and was soon in the narrow space between Paige and his booth. Luckily he made no overt move to touch her though his face was almost inside the window as he handed the fallen coins.
Paige thanked him with one of the bright smiles making sure to hold his hand briefly as she took the coins.
Once on the street Stefanie observed, "You made his day." Paige smiled though it was now the smirk.
*
Chapter 7
Paige and Stefanie looked through brochures, invitations, and on the web for several days trying to find the next pageant. The search process was fairly simple. The pageant had to pay well. If it was out of town, it had to be somewhere interesting. It should look good on her resume if she won. And, a key ingredient was the ability of taking her mother along. Mom was good at negotiating with the sponsors. Generally with mom along Paige knew she could focus on looking good rather than having to worry about dealing with pageant details.
Mom was also quite good looking which helped with sponsors as well. Funny, she thought not letting the irony escape her, pageants were almost always run by men.
It being Spring, they settled on a pageant in New Orleans. The flowers would be beautiful and the local contestants would probably be so stuck on themselves, a girl with sweet, natural beauty (Paige, of course) would have a good chance. Paige also knew how to handle the judges and sponsors should she have to.
Her entry was accepted and they were off to explore the Big Easy. They drove. It was an overnight trip, but neither minded. They enjoyed travel and enjoyed traveling together. The SUV was quite comfortable and its size made it much easier to carry all the necessary belongings. Besides, what else did they have to do anyway.
They took turns driving. Chatting, dozing, reading, listening to books or music occupied them well. Both women were well received at gas stations and rest stops. Even the highway patrol waved back when they flirted with them between their cars in passing on the roadway.
Night fell. They stopped for dinner at what looked to be a pleasant restaurant. They didn't intend to travel much further so they allowed themselves wine with dinner.
Their dinner finished they left headed again for the Big Easy. Actually dinner had taken longer than they had realized and they drank more wine than they intended, but they were both in a good mood and quite chatty. Traffic was exceptionally light in this corner of Tennessee where the population density was also very low.
Their chatting was suddenly interrupted by the car's gentle reminder that their fuel supply needed to be replenished. They fiddled with the GPS and located a station not too far. Unerringly the device led them to it. At one in the morning, however, the station was long since closed.
