The Organization, Part 9 - First Assignment
Copyright 2012, 2020 Lisa Summers
(Wednesday, the Twelfth of the Month)
"So, what's the surprise?" Victoria asked. Her sky blue eyes flashed hungrily at the box I was holding, her perfectly coiffed blonde hair swung over her neck and shoulders as she sat on the Bergere cane couch next to me. I could feel the heat of her slim, toned body on mine, even through our clothes - hers, a casual set from Rag & Bone jeans, paired with a white Alexander Wang tee top, mine, a business suit from Ann Taylor in tweed.
"Melissa, my business partner, made these herself - she's quite good at it. Go ahead, open it," I said, smiling.
The twenty-two year old former 'Miss New York Dairy Industry', fashion model, and wife, laughed happily. "I love surprises, I've never been disappointed yet."
"Well, you certainly won't be this time," I said, as she swiftly removed the pretty, purple satin ribbon and bow from the small box in her perfectly manicured hand. I brushed back my own long, blonde hair, darker than her sunlight-evoking shade. As she lifted the top from the box, she sighed.
"Ahh, those look scrumptious," she said. "Chocolate-dipped strawberries - you shouldn't have!"
"Well, maybe not, but when Melissa showed me these, I knew they were going to be perfect for you," I said, smiling warmly. "Melissa brought in a batch to work."
"Oh, they are perfect, they are...do you mind terribly if I save them for later? I'm on a managed diet, and I can only eat certain things at certain times..."
"Diet? You? But you're perfect as you are, right now, darling!" I said, my asshole clenching. I didn't want her saving anything for later.
"Oh, thank you so much," she replied, her gratitude genuine and palpable, "For the compliment, as much as for the wonderful strawberries. But I know that if I eat one, then I'll eat two. And if I eat two, then I'll eat three...at least if I wait until Mark comes home, then I can persuade him to eat two, and it won't be so bad for my figure."
"Is he really that insistent that you always be perfect?" I asked her. I almost felt sorry for her.
"Kayce, I know that I'm a trophy wife," she said. "But all that means is that I'm valued by my husband for, well, skills and attributes different from his first wife's. It isn't as though my position is so different from thousands of other women, is it?" The look on her face was a mixture of a plea for understanding, and frank honesty at the nature of her marriage. I had to admire that second part, at least. The 'understanding' part, though, didn't matter in the least to me.
I had a job to do.
"I'll tell you what," I said. "Why don't we each eat two strawberries? That way, they won't lose their freshness, Mark will get a tiny punishment for, oh, whatever you think he should be punished for" - at this, we both giggled - "and I get to enjoy these delicious, juicy strawberries too? And I'll never tell Melissa!" Again, we both giggled at our mutual contemplated acts of deceit.
"That sounds ideal," Victoria said, daintily reaching into the small white cardboard box, and securing the biggest one between her thumb and forefinger, and then bringing it to her two, perfect, plump and red lips. Just before that perfect mouth opened to receive its due, she hesitated. She looked at me, then to the box.
"Kayce, you've got to eat one too, or what I'm doing is just gorging myself. If you eat along with me, it's sharing."
"I like that," I said hurriedly, as I picked out the smallest, and popped it halfway into my mouth, my teeth sinking through the creamy layer of chocolate, into the juicy fruit underneath. God, the metaphor was so strong in my mind, that I could feel my pussy wetting, imagining that it was Victoria's fat, plump, hot clitoris under my teeth, with her hot, sweet, fragrant cunt juices running from her pink slit equally into my mouth, and down her naked thigh.
"So good," she moaned, and I was startled back to the world, two women, one a working professional in her early thirties, the other, so unwitting as a bored trophy wife, in her early twenties, sitting in an attractive and richly decorated Manhattan condo, enjoying the fresh fruit of early summer, gilded with nature's own aphrodisiac and stimulant, creamy milk chocolate.
I looked up to see a thin line of chocolated saliva running from one corner of Victoria's mouth. In a different place, or a different time - say, in her bedroom in 30 minutes or so - I would gladly lick that stream of sweet goodness from her chin and lip, knowing that she had other glistening, wet flows like it for me. But instead, I giggled, and gestured at her chin.
"I know!" she crowed, struggling to keep it from dripping farther, perhaps staining her pure white top, her index finger serving as a makeshift napkin. She giggled, and I laughed, one of us innocent, the other...not.
She whooped, ran into the kitchen, returning quickly with two small, linen napkins. Handing me one, she said, "Those are so good!"
She wiped her chin daintily, as I said, "I know, right? Melissa has a calling. Sometimes I wonder which she's better at, skullduggery or cooking." I didn't mention how good she is when she combines the two. Victoria would find out, soon enough.
We talked about this and that. Victoria eating one strawberry would be good, two would be better, three would be perfection itself. She ate the second without even thinking about it, but when we both looked at the last of the four, sitting lonely in the box, I said, "Oh, I couldn't, I'm full...I had a big breakfast - a buffet at a business meeting." I saw her wavering, but I knew what she'd say...and she did.
"No, I said I'd stop at two...maybe we could save the last for Mark," though by the look on her face the strawberry probably wouldn't last much longer. Still, I couldn't take the chance. I didn't want anything lying around that could be analyzed later by someone.
"Why don't we split it?" I said. "I'll take a bite, then you..." She brightened at that. The decision was out of her hands, she couldn't be blamed if half of a strawberry added a pound or two to her hips, Kayce had forced her.
I bit into the bottom point of the berry, since the solution had been injected into the upper portions. "Mmm," I said, and then pushed the remnant over to her.
"Ahh," she exulted, as her teeth squashed chocolate, berry pulp, juice and the remainder of The Organization's solution onto her tongue, on its way down her throat, and then on to her brain. Because she had consumed it, instead of it being injected, it would take longer for the changes to begin...but they would occur. I was in no hurry. Her husband wouldn't return for several days.
"It's out of my hands too, now, Victoria," I thought to myself. "Weren't those so good?" I said to her.
"Oh yes," she said. "There's a confectionery store around the corner that carries those occasionally - usually Valentine's Day and such, but their berries are never as good. So, Melissa picked out the berries herself, and dipped them?" she enquired.
"Yes, and she's really a perfectionist about it," I said, leaving out the part about both Melissa and I being nude at the time she made them, and having hot sex during every stage of the process. No one really wants to hear about the personal hygiene at the places their food comes from, after they've eaten, do they? Well, with one or two exceptions, anyway.
For example, I'm very discriminating about the women whose pussies and ass holes I'll be licking. They have to be relatively clean, although a woman who's been exercising for hours before I pull down her sweat pants, and her hot, sweat-soaked panties, then spreading her slim thighs to expose her wet, red slit, hotly fragrant with the intertwined scents of her musky cunt, her dripping, salty sweat, and her 'pretty much clean' ass hole, is absolutely divine, and can be an exciting snack before indulging ourselves in further activities.
