[-- Anais --]
Wetness swirls around my breast while I review this week's schedule at my desk. I prefer paper, but my assistant Vanessa insisted that we modernize, so a tablet glows in my shadowed office. My office is hidden from the world behind tall drawn drapes. They're standard for the original rococo style of the palace.
My schedule is busy, like usual. I am booked for events and private visits all over the world. I will have a ten-hour flight one evening, but that will give Vanessa time to recuperate. Unlike me, she is mortal. I can live without sleep, drink, food, or bathing, however, some of my clients prefer that I join them in those activities. My waving hair has not grayed, and my smooth, voluptuous body has not aged since I was thirty-five years old, which was just shy of 900 years ago if I remember correctly. Despite my age, I am still full of life, and I am able to renew the lives of mortals, the ones who are anxious about living a life that ends. I cannot make them immortal, but I can invigorate them to continue living.
The soft cushion of the chez lounge on which I sit ruffles. I use it in lieu of a desk chair because desk chairs proved to be too restrictive. The possibility to lay oneself on the lounge is usually necessary whenever I am at the desk.
A soft whimper exhales on my breast. I gently glide my hand down long naked legs that stretch to the end of the chez lounge, and there is another whimper. I gently shh the whimper and stroke a long blond ponytail, situated high on Vanessa's head. She sighs in my lap and slowly suckles my large breast, drawing my milk into her mouth with her expert sucking rhythm. She needs to recuperate more than any other living person I know. Assisting an immortal requires endurance and stamina she could never maintain on her own, despite how strong she is.
I sigh and lean back my head as I hold her to my breast. Her suckling calms me, and it enlivens my sex. Though my arousal depends on the situation, I've always enjoyed giving to the mortals. My presence calms them, my body comforts them, and my endless milk rejuvenates them. The more they share their vulnerability with me, the wetter I become.
I wish Vanessa could continue, but there is business to attend to. I softly coo, "Vanessa, our next appointment will be here soon." She whines and latches on harder, and I blush. Out of all my assistants over the years, she enjoys her time with me the most.
I gently pull her head away from my breast. Her eyes open, and I recognize how they change as she emerges from her daze. She looks up at me, and I see an excited twinkle in her eye. Not all mortals look at me with that twinkle, but Vanessa always has after our time together.
She wiggles her naked body under the desk and nuzzles her nose between the hem of my sheer silk robe. It always rides up when I sit, so her nose touches my sensitive mound, naked of hair, like the rest of my body.
I smile and place my hand on her head to stop her. "He will see you under the desk."
But she shakes her head and tries to pull my legs apart. "I don't care."
I've learned that Vanessa never doubts her decisions, so I open my legs and let her take me into her mouth. Her tongue is strong, and her lips are eager as she sucks on my clitoris and licks my wetness. I cannot count how many times I've felt her mouth, but it feels more enjoyable each time it meets my sex. My womanness has come to expect for her and yearn for her, and it revels in her acute admiration for me and my profession.
There's a knock on the door, and I sing for the knocker to enter. His expression matches nearly every other that has walked into my office for the first time. I can imagine the scene before him: a sinfully angelic woman dressed in white silk and a young, round bottom peeking from under the desk. It glows in the light that pours in through the slit of the drapes. Vanessa is wearing her black patent heels this morning, so I can imagine the view is especially alluring.
The middle-aged man grips the edge of the door and tries to break his gaze from Vanessa's bottom. Unsuccessful, he says half-willingly, "I can come back later."
I smile. "That isn't necessary." I gracefully nod to the chair near my desk. "Sit down in front of Vanessa." She pushes her face harder between my legs, and my hips shiver in pleasure.
The man awkwardly places the chair and his feet around Vanessa's legs, then looks at me with eyes so wide and cheeks so flushed that I can't help but chuckle. "You're Martin, I presume?"
He breaks his gaze and clears his throat. "Um. Yes. That's correct."
"And you'd like to schedule an event?"
"Yes."
"There can be no more than ten groups, and each group can have no more than two people. Are you aware of that?"
He nods as he stares at a gold pen on my desk.
"When would you like to have the event?"
"Three months?"
"I'm booked for the year."
His gaze flicks to mine, and he sheepishly asks, "The whole year?"
If Vanessa were handling this meeting, she would dryly say, "Yes. That is what 'booked for the year' means."
I am nicer than Vanessa. "I'm afraid so."
He rubs the back of his neck. "Oh. I'll have to talk to the guys again."
