I sat in Kristel's room until she had fallen asleep. It didn't take long, her little joy ride had plum tuckered her out. She drifted off, moist hand resting by her cheek that was still bent ever so slightly with a smile. The tv was still on broadcasting the local news, the remote forgotten and lost in a tangle of sheets.
I walked to the end of the bed, clicked the tv off and pulled a cover over from the side where it was bunched up and drew it up to her chin. I brushed few strands of her disheveled hair out of her face and watched as her eyelids flickered about with the beginnings of some dream. She was stunning.
I'll admit I had a soft spot for Kristel. Especially now, what with her being the first of my...conquests. Even though we were in no way romantically compatible I think just living with her for so long had created in me some type of feelings for her. I was still working on my plans concerning her, but I would be gentle. I wasn't about to let some kind of overblown sense of compassion stop me now, not when I was so close. I left the room, turning out the light as I went and closed the door securely.
It was only a little after ten, but I was exhausted too. I found my way to bed soon after and fell asleep more quickly then I thought considering my mind was racing with the possibilities of tomorrow. Tomorrow was Friday. Friday means payday and oh did I ever intend to get paid. I had figured out the way I would make money. Lots and lots of money.
It was the news in Kristel's room the night before that had given me the idea. One of the major news stories at the time was the Enron scandal. They had been talking about all the high paid executives who made millions right before the company collapsed. Millions sounded like a good place to start. I would become a high-paid executive.
I would place myself as a silent partner (or whatever you wanted to call it) in a number of area corporations. I would get on the payroll, do exactly nothing and have the money deposited directly into my account. All legal and above board. If anyone asked, I was a consultant for this or that company. First thing on Monday I intended to find a very good accountant to keep track of my finances. I was doing my best to try and see the next step down the road to avoid any potential problems.
I spent the day driving around visiting every large building in downtown Phoenix that looked interesting. Bank of America, Chase Bank, Motorola, the Arizona Diamondbacks, the Phoenix Coyotes (I hit them up for an exceptionally high salary simply because I'm a St. Louis Blues fan), Morgan Stanley, Edward Jones, just to name a few. I simply walked in, asked for the person in charge and how to get to their office and instructed them on what I wanted done.
Of course there was resistance at first, but all I had to do was enter the mind of the person in question, give them a little tune-up (as I had taken to calling it) and give the undeniable impression that I was to be obeyed. Life was good. By the time I returned home at about 4:30 my account at Washington Mutual already had over 100,000 dollars in it. It's amazing what you can get done when everyone follows your instructions immediately.
I had about an hour or so until Kristel was due home from work and I wanted to get cleaned up a bit. I was flying on cloud nine. With each successful job I flew a little higher. By the time I walked in the door that night my face was cramped from the grin that was plastered to it. Plus I still had tonight to look forward too.
Tonight was going to be a good night. I showered, shaved, and just freshened myself up. I put on some clean clothes and a spray of cologne and even popped a breath mint. It wasn't at all necessary, but I felt better. I finished with about ten minutes to spare, poured myself a glass of water and sat on the couch, watched some tv and waited. I was watching a re-run of The Daily Show on Comedy Central when I heard the tell-tale metallic slide of a key going into the door and the quick thunk of the lock turning over.
"Evening," I said as she walked in the door.
"Hey, how you doin," she replied, looking over and giving me a polite smile.
She walked in, closing the door behind her, and placed her purse on the counter, setting her keys down along side it.
Still grinning like a deranged clown I said, "Oh I'm doing very well. Excellent in fact."
"Yeah? You look better then you did yesterday. You looked like you were coming down with something. Did you have a good day?"
Yes I had an absolutely fan-fucking-tastic day, and it's only going to get better now that you're home! That is what I was thinking. What I said was:
"Yeah, it was okay. I got a new job,"
"Really? That's awesome, where at?" she asked.
I had to think for a second and pick one of the names. "This company called Independent Financial Management. They're an investment firm in Phoenix."
"That is so cool. What's the job?"
"Consultant."
She got a puzzled look on her face. "I thought you did graphic design?"
Oh yeah. Recovering quickly I said, "It's a consulting position in their marketing department."
Still she persisted. "Do you have enough experience for that? You just graduated a few months ago and this would be your first real job. They really hired you as a consultant?"
Ummm...
"I guess I interview really well." What a lame-ass answer. She was absolutely right of course, no company in their right mind would hire a wet-behind-the-ears college grad as a consultant. Especially not a company that netted 689 million dollars last year. Since when did she pay so much attention to what I did anyway.
*Stop asking questions and accept it* I thought at her, rather annoyed.
Her face relaxed and she said, "Well that's really great Steve. Does it pay pretty good?"
That one? Oh about 160 thousand a year.
"Yeah, not to bad. Enough that I can stop worrying about my student loans. Maybe get a new car."
Or eight, one for every day of the week plus two on Sundays with corresponding license plates. Also I think I'll have each car in a different color of the rainbow with my own personal sex slave assigned to each one with hair and a thong bikini that matches the interior, whose only job is to blow me while I drive around town smiling like a retarded monkey. And to round things off - a Jack In the Box antenna ball waving happily in the wind. God damn I wanted to dance a jig. How I was able to keep from running naked through the streets, shouting joyously into the night I'll never know.
"That is just so awesome. Are you going out to celebrate?"
"Yeah, I have some plans. What about you?"
"Ugh, I'm exhausted. I'm gonna grab a bite to eat hit the sack. You have fun though." She started to head to her room. "Oh! Was there any mail?"
"Nope, nothing for you."
"K. See ya."
"Sooner then you think," I said to myself.
She closed the door and I was alone in the living room. I was so excited I was trembling. I took a few deep breathes to try and calm myself. Now, more then ever, I wanted her. Somehow knowing that at any second she could be on her knees in front of me, covered in chocolate syrup and licking my cock, made the desire that much more intense. It was a fierce battle of wills inside me as I strove to draw the moment out instead of succumbing to the animal passion that shouted at me to just take her, TAKE HER NOW!!!
I didn't want to just take her. Maybe some other women, for sure, but Kristel was different. I wanted to possess her but I also wanted her to come to me on her own. Well okay, she would never do that by herself, I was going to have to help out in that department but...I don't know. Even now, looking back on it, I can't tell you exactly what I wanted, or what I expected, I just know I didn't want to simply fuck her. Still, I would have her. Tonight.
I sat there, I don't really know how long, going over it in my head. The tv might as well have been a dead plant for all the attention I paid it. In the mean time Kristel had taken her shower (I left it alone this time, I was too wrapped up in my own thoughts) and had come out, gotten some food and retreated back into her room. We hadn't said anything to each other during the time out of her room, that was normal. As I said we talked very little. You've just been witness to one of our longer conversations up to that point.
I finally figured out how I was going to do this. Just as before, I would make her horny, but this time simply dithering herself to orgasm wouldn't be enough. I would work it out so that she would crave a cock. By the time she came to me, I wanted her to be so desperate for dick that she would club a baby seal if that was all that stood between her and a raging hard-on.
I made myself comfortable, leaning back into the couch cushions, and cast my awareness out and into her room. She was there, laying in her bed, eating some grapes and watching a Friends re-run. I moved my perspective so that I was looking down on her from somewhere up towards the ceiling and gazed at her for a moment.
She was half covered by a blanket and wearing a navy blue dress with white stripes and spaghetti straps. This was one of her favorite lounging outfits, she wore it all the time. It suited me just fine because there had been countless occasions where she would walk around the house with it on and I would fantasize about her.
In my mind I saw myself walking up behind her, placing my arms around the tender softness of her waist and kissing down the curve of her neck onto her shoulder. I would then glide my hands down her sides, over the gentle swell of her hips and down to the hem of the dress and once there, pull it slowly upwards and slid it off her body. General hot and sticky sex-type things would then ensue.
The really intense moments were when she would walk away from me while wearing it and you could see by the jiggle of her ass that either she wasn't wearing panties, or was wearing a thong. The fact that all that stood between me and her ivory skin was the scant centimeter of a flimsy $5.99 Kmart Special dress drove me to near madness. Of course due to recent events in the last couple of days, I didn't have to worry about that anymore. Ha! In my head I'm dancing a jig. Like Fred Astaire on crack.
