Don't worry if you haven't read parts 1-3 (although I recommend that you do!). This part of the story is pretty self-contained, and all you really need to know is that Karen is an estate agent trying (very hard) to sell a house, whose owners are heavily into erotica, domination and lesbianism. This part of the story doesn't feature them; but it contains a lot of exhibitionism and a brief taste of lesbianism. Enjoy it!
*
The property market was shockingly slow. The whole company had sold three -
three!
- flats last month. People would be getting laid off soon. I mean, how long could that go on for? I was on basic salary myself, and racking up yet more credit as I scraped along. Nothing was moving at all at the lower end of the market; so I had pretty well abandoned the rest of my sales in the hope of a buyer at the top end for the Keels' place.
Unfortunately, my boss John had forced me to accept 'help' from the rest of the office. I had argued with him, not wanting to lose control of the sale (after the pitch I had had to do!) and at least had managed to come out as the primary contact for the Keels. Nevertheless, the rest of the team had literally scoured the networked databases of the country looking for buyers; and if someone else got the buyer, they'd get a quarter of my commission.
I'm not a girl given to bad language, but... Fuck!
I had quite literally worked my butt off to get (and keep) that sale. The company wouldn't have had a sniff of it if I hadn't stripped down and... well, they didn't need to know that. But Jamie from our neighbour office hadn't managed to impress them, and Billie from 'Your Move' would have got the job over me if I hadn't really... "worked" for it.
Yesterday, John had tried coming with me to meet the Keels, and had been summarily dismissed at the door. I ended up sobbing on Mrs Keel's bosom, spilling the beans about how tough this all was.
I didn't get naked the whole time I was there, and went to bed that night with an empty pit in my stomach.
Was I just upset about the threat to my commission? Was it because I didn't expose myself? Was it because there was no kind of sex involved? What was I becoming - a submissive? An exhibitionist? A lesbian?
To cheer myself up, I went to my local cafe for breakfast. They do a fabulous vegetarian fry-up, which is much less unhealthy than it sounds. And as I ate, I had an epiphany. Not about my sexuality, but at least about the potential sale.
Two guys in fluorescent jackets were talking - loudly and cheerfully - about just one thing. Paul Newburgh had signed for our local team, Leyton United. Now, I wasn't a big football fan, but I did like a bit of 'Footballer's Wives'. Leyton had a lot of money; for the Championship (that's the league below the Premiership, if you didn't know). Someone very rich was coming to town. And he'd need a house.
The workmen were leaving; so I borrowed their paper as I ate, and virtually flew in to work, ending up sitting in a closed office as I only had the back-door keys.
Paul Newburgh, 24, was coming to town on an estimated Β£12,000 a week! I'd always slightly resented the silly money they pay footballers, but this time it was different - I wanted some of it! At around a million pounds a year, Paul could more than meet the asking price; and probably wouldn't even need a mortgage!
By the time the others arrived, I'd done my basic research. He was currently single, had a penchant for pneumatic blondes, and had dated two reality TV stars. He had five homes, and had publicly stated that he wanted to build up a property portfolio.
Could this guy be any more perfect?
Most of the others were in late; and were still drinking coffee when I was on the phone to Mr Newburgh's old club probing for contact details. I managed to get the number of his agent; and soon the two of us were chatting about Mr Newburgh's needs quite happily.
I didn't let on that I only had one property; pretending to rule things out based on numbers of rooms, location, lack of a swimming pool and so on.
Finally, I pitched. "Well, really Danny, there's one place that's head and shoulders above the rest at the moment. It's ten minutes from the stadium by car, with excellent transport links in an exclusive suburb. It's a six-bedroom mansion-house with four en-suites and a master bathroom. There's a basement that would make a perfect gymnasium, a solarium, a twenty-foot swimming pool, and a large walled garden. The property has a double-garage and extensive off-street parking. It's currently on the market at Β£650,000."
"Well, that sounds like Paul's kind of place," replied Danny, his agent. "Why not email me some details?" Paul will be in town tomorrow for signing photos - if he's interested, he could see the place straight away."
Oh, happy day!
I went to work on the portfolio, changing the description of the garden slightly; suggesting games rooms and gyms instead of playrooms and studios. After all, an overgrown schoolboy doesn't want a family home - he wants somewhere fun!
Within an hour, I had sent off the altered property portfolio, and crossed my fingers.
I went out for gossip magazines at lunchtime, looking for dirt; and bought the local paper to see if the club was thinking of signing any more players. And there was a local rugby team too...
Over the day, researching, I got to know Paul Newburgh pretty well. He had a slightly bad-boy reputation, and was regularly seen out in strip joints and overpriced London clubs. The Keel's house would be perfect for him. Still, he did a bit of charity work, and actually had some A-levels; and was pretty intelligent for a footballer. Some were, I suppose.
I got the call later from Danny, arranging for me to show the house the next afternoon at 3pm. I spoke with Mrs Keel right away, arranging for them to be out until early evening.
---
I got to the house a good hour early, to make sure it was fully presentable. I knew that the Keels were out, but I still had to remind myself not to get undressed!
Fernanda was there, cleaning the bedrooms whilst wearing nothing but a smile. I couldn't help admiring her slim hips and heavy breasts as she walked; remember how it had felt caressing her body...
After a few moments of divine recollection, I mentally slapped myself. I had to get ready! This was the big one!
I scurried through the house, making sure all was in order. The Keels had refused to take down any of their photos, but I moved the coffee-table book and hid it. Fresh flowers in all the main rooms. A little perfume in the bedroom. Fresh coffee on the go. Windows slightly open.
I fixed up my make-up in the bathroom; using my very best mascara and lipstick. I was wearing my best blue suit, with an above-knee skirt and a pink blouse with a matching silk bow tying my hair back.
Fernanda came in as I put the finishing touches to my makeup. She slid in behind me and put her arms around me, kissing me on the back of the neck.
"You have a man coming for a sale, pretty Karen?" she asked, her hands gently caressing my breasts through the blouse.
I nodded, trying to ignore the thrills her touch sent through me. Me, such an innocent just a couple of weeks ago!
"A shame," she purred. "So nice to have some time alone... I would like to see you some time, just us, yes? Maybe next week, when house is empty?"
I swallowed nervously, and she turned my face gently to kiss me on the lips. I put my hands up to stop her; and somehow they wound up resting on her enormous, natural, beautiful breasts. I moaned into her mouth, caressing her nipples as she bit my lower lip softly, smiling.
"I think next week, you come visit me on Tuesday? After twelve, house will be empty till late. Alone, just the two of us, we take long time to make love, yes?"
I nodded, my senses inflamed by this seductress; this siren in human form. Finally, she released me with a throaty laugh, and walked out; her high bottom flexing proudly atop her firm legs.
What was happening to me?
I tried to put the dampness in my pussy out of my mind as I regrouped. I had a customer due in a few minutes. I prayed that he wouldn't be early. Even dressed, Fernanda was too distracting - and it's not like she came with the house! I heard her leave a few minutes later, and made myself some tea to calm down.
Soon enough, I heard another car arrive, and I hurried to meet it. A black BMW slid to a halt, and a man stepped out.