Well, goddamn.
So, there I am, standing in this unfamiliar kitchen with my pants around my ankles, my camera round my neck and some cute little Asian chick swallowin' my cock like the apocalypse is gonna come in 5 minutes and she just had to get her daily dose of liquid protein shake before the end. I dunno about the apocalypse coming, but damn I was gettin' close.
Now, I know what you're thinkin'. You're thinkin', 'Lucky man'. Fuck, I was thinkin' 'Lucky man' at the time, too. Okay. So it's a Friday afternoon, right? Let's say it's about 4:30 pm, and let's say that yours truly is the last man standing in the electronics department of the Circuit City down on 12th ave. I'm sure you know the one. I'm sure you know me too. I'm just the average looking guy that wanders round the store and says "Hey, can I help you with somethin'?"
Well, you know how that goes. You get a buncha answers that range from "No, I'm just looking" to "If I wanted your help, I'd ask for it." Assholes. They're the ones I accidentally 'forget' to sign the warranty form for. So anyway. It's 4:30. I'm about to come off shift and I look up and this vision is wanderin' over to my department. Well, hell, that's worth workin' overtime for.
Short and slim. 'Bout five-six, I reckon. Long hair, nice tits and legs that just won't quit. Wearing this little micro miniskirt thing, a white halter top and a pair of black leather knee-high come fuck me boots. You know the type I mean.
She bent down to look at one of the lower shelves and I almost burst a zipper right there. Y'know, this was one of those chicks you see on the TV in those swimsuit contests. Never see 'em in real life, and I'm damn sure I never seen one 'round here.
So, she's looking at the cameras. The digital ones. And she's down at the expensive end. 'Nice', I thought 'Hot and loaded. Time to go to work, Mickey boy.' So I amble on over, standing at what I reckon is just the right distance - Close enough to be friendly, far enough away to be non-intrusive, and I cough. Quietly. She turns around like they all do and I let her have my salesman line.
"Afternoon, miss - Is there anything I can help you with?"
At least, that's how it sounded in my head. What actually came out of my mouth sounded more like:
"Mmrph urgle grlaag"
Slick, Mickey, real slick. She turned around and looked at me and I nearly died. Dark brown eyes, soft and sexy. They pinned me like a deer in the headlamps of an oncoming heavy hauler.
I tried again. Courageous Mickey, that's what they call me.
"Afternoon, miss. Is there anything I can help you with?"
Much better that time. I almost sounded like I actually had a mastery of the English language.
"Actually," she said, "there is."
I had to double take. No one ever says that. But yeah, turns out there was. Seems that her husband (yeah, ya hadda know she was gonna be fucking married) was away in the middle east. Some military guy or somethin'. So, he's not around, and she wants to give him a surprise. Sure, I can dig that. They're emailing each other every day and she wants to know if she can send pictures to him if she takes them on one of our digital cameras.
Sure. No problem. So I talk her through the camera types, figure out what she's looking for. She's smart too. Picks it all up, all the jargon, the lingo in no time at all. And we find the camera for her. New model Olympus. Digital zoom, a gazillion pixels, all that junk. Fuck, don't look at me. I don't know jack shit. I just sell the things.
She pays for the camera and I'm thinking, 'Well, that was a nice way to end the day, at least. Can't complain about a bit of eye candy,' when she turns around to me and gives me another double-barreled dose of those come fuck me eyes. If it's at all possible, she's turned up the wattage some, too. Her little pink tongue flicks out over her upper lip and then she says in the flattest most businesslike tone you can ever imagine, without her gaze even flicking from mine for a moment:
"I'm gonna need someone to take the pictures for me."
I was gone. I was outta there. Wouldn't you be? I had my card punched and my sheet signed and I was in the parking lot faster than Carl Lewis on steroids. We went to her place and all I can think along the drive is 'Mickey, what the fuck are you doing? This chick's got a soldier for a husband. He'll come back and one day you'll wake up part of the freeway.'
'Course, then there was the other voice in my head saying 'Goddamn, Mickey. A hot chick asks you back to her place to take pictures of her. You ain't never sayin' no to that, boy."
Either way, it starts off innocent enough. She loves the camera. The camera loves her. I'm snapping away. She bought a couple of the heavy-duty smartcards, with the extra memory so I can go crazy without worrying about running out. She sits on the sofa, stands in the hallway, leans against the wall, goes out into the yard for a few shots. I tell you, she oozed sex and sensuality. All the while I'm having an argument with my dick. It wants to come up and play, and I'm trying to concentrate on getting good pictures.
After a bit we head on back inside. She fixes me a bourbon and asks me if she can see the pictures. No worries. I hook the Olympus up to her PC and faster than you can say USB cable, there we go. Pictures in all their glory. She clicks through 'em, looking at each one and then gets this pouty disappointed look on her face.
Uhoh. What did I do now?
"I dunno," she starts saying. "I kinda think Steve wanted something a bit more racy, a bit more kinky."
I'm thinkin' to myself, 'Steveβ¦. Steve? .. Oh, that must be the husband's name'
"Like how?"
"Well," she says slowly, and peels her halter top off and turns to me. "Like this?"
I blinked. Then I blinked again. And then I grabbed the camera and started clicking. Whoever it was that gave her that boob job had done a damn good job of it. They were perfect, and they looked it on film too. She started topless, squeezing and rubbing her breasts, pushing them together, learning forward, doing all that shit. She pouted, licked her lips, stuck her tongue out, licked her own nipples.
Damn, this Steve guy was one lucky sunuvabitch, and he'd love these photos. I just hoped he never asked her who took 'em. She starts peeling more layers off. The boots, one at a time, kicking her legs up in the air. Then she moved onto that little micro mini. Goddamn, for such a tiny piece of material it sure did take a long time to come off.
She did something to the back of it, and it unzipped a little. First one side came down. Then that came back up and the other side came down. Then she pulled it down a little and bent over and I noticed something that I hadn't noticed before. Panties. Or rather, the lack of 'em. She wasn't wearing any.
I'd given up the argument with my cock by now and was just trying to stay conscious with what little blood was left in the rest of my body when she finally pulled the skirt down, in one smooth move, all bent over in front of me.