My thanks to MormonJack for edits and crits.
Chapter Six
Kylie walked down the length of her local wine bar's aisle to the end of the bar. There were only a few patrons this late, all male, and of course they all followed her with their eyes all the way to the back. She had a new coat wrapped around her, a nice Burberry, a major upgrade over the brown thing she'd worn her first visit to Adam's place, and it covered her up from neck to ankles. But even the guys with over-limit blood alcohol could see something about her, something not quite right.
Her hair: questionable, strands out of place. Her make up: men, at least straight men, would not be able to diagnose what went wrong, but her eyes were not as crisply alluring as they'd been at the beginning of the evening, and her lip gloss was only visible in ragged patches at the corners of her mouth. Her shoes: they were fine, but their black shine and thick platforms would have better suited a goth cosplay teenager.
And her expression: exhausted, used, but with a grin she was fighting to suppress. To Kylie it was all too obvious: she looked really well fucked. Really, really. If it was a crime to fuck a woman too well, she was Exhibit A.
She stopped at the end of the bar. The bartender, the one Cara had predicted was gay, came over to her. He certainly was pleasant to look at. Not that Adam was ugly. But this man was genuinely a pleasure, such perfectly proportioned features, such puppy dog eyes.
"Hey," he said, "how's it going?"
If he hadn't been on the other side of the bar, and probably gay, Kylie might have thought it was a pickup line. "Good," she said, "Very good. But I need a drink. Got anything beyond wine?"
"Oh, right. You were the girl with that guy from the AI startup. You work there too?"
"Yeah. Listen, I'm happy to talk all night, but I really need that drink."
"Sure. Sorry. We can do cocktails."
"Martini? Whatever's strong."
"Coming right up. Have a seat."
"I feel like standing right now." She couldn't imagine putting any pressure on her ass at this moment. It was still sizzling. But her pussy ached for something more than a soft cushion. She pulled up the back of her coat and sidled back against a stool, just enough to work a corner up into her a little, just pressing on the part of her pussy that was humming, the part of her that was, she had to admit, still coming. Whatever Adam had done to her-- meaning whatever she'd seduced Adam into doing to her-- or really, whatever Cara had tricked her into seducing Adam to do to her-- had left her physically exhausted but mentally wired, with an ass that burned as if flamed under a torch and a pussy that, nearly an hour later, wouldn't stop coming. And a mouth that was dry and raspy from yelling and/or swallowing cock, still tasting the slush of come and pussy juice she'd been slurping from that cock. She scarfed down the martini way too fast when it arrived and had to force herself to place it back on the counter before she drank the whole thing in one gulp.
"I can see how you need a drink, sweetie. What a performance! Oscar level. Let's get into bed soon. The video is incredible."
She didn't respond, but Cara's praise was justified. She didn't need a video right now to bring back some of the scenes, and no video could capture the piercing sting of that god-damned fucking paddle or the unbelievable full-body orgasms, which her pussy was still responding to. She concentrated on that, working her pussy deeper into the corner of the stool's padding.
"One drink, okay honey pie? Then we'll go home to our soft bed."
She took the hearing aid out of her ear and stashed it in her coat pocket with the tiara, then turned off her phone before Cara could protest. She needed some alone time.
The bartender rang up a patron and went back to her. "You think you're going to want another? It's almost last call."
"At least one more. Double?"
"Just so you're not driving."
"I live in the neighborhood." She almost blurted out an invitation to him right then, gay or not, to come back home with her. The unbelievable sex she'd just been through seemed to have made her more horny, not less. The alcohol had started to warm her up and she wanted to unbutton her coat, but then she'd be exposing her costume, a getup her former self wouldn't have worn on a bet on Halloween. But, oh my, had it done the job!
# # #
Cara had been right on target, as always. When Kylie opened the coat at the bottom of his stairs to reveal her costume, Adam looked like a seven-year-old boy on Christmas-- the boy who got that real spaceship or real dragon that he'd asked Santa for.
She wore the classic French maid costume, low bodice, white ruffled apron, short black fluffed-out skirt that exposed pale thighs above sheer stockings, black shiny heels. But the headpiece was large, more of a tiara, her heels were on thick platforms. Black choker with lace edges. So more of a goth French maid, pure fantasy. Not pure in the moral sense. The costume had come with ruffled cuffs, but Cara thought they might interfere with her cinematography. Kylie's fellatio, Cara had proven in a personal documentary short, involved a lot of handwork.
"Good evening, Sir. I am here to serve you."
"Ooh, great! You're getting into it already." Cara hadn't told her to use 'Sir'; it had just come out spontaneously.
Once again he followed her up the stairs. She'd at first resisted Cara's instruction to go commando in a flouncy skirt that barely covered her butt. "Girl, sometimes you are so dense," Cara had countered. "Where do you want him to put his cock? Okay, show him." So her pussy was set free to cool in the breeze. And to be in full view of the man she wanted to fuck her, already wet for him.
Something about the costume, which was just about the silliest thing any self-respecting girl should put on her body, made her just want to kneel down in the center of Adam's living room. So she did. Self-respect, in this case, had to be viewed from a highly personal frame of mind.
Adam was grinning so hard he could hardly talk. "You-- you are the most amazing woman I've ever met, Kylie. You just-- just--" Not able to finish the sentence, he gestured at the lump that had already formed in his pants.
She opened his pants and pulled them down, not easy with his nervous bouncing and shaking. She took him into her mouth and began servicing him. He settled down and got his voice back. "I'd offer to marry you, seriously Kylie, except I know you'd turn me down. And anyway if you did marry me you'd end up somehow owning me entirely. So it's lucky you'll turn me down."
She took his cock out of her mouth briefly to say, "I don't want to marry you. I just want your cock."
His grin returned. "Wait." He pulled out of her, went to his counter, where he retrieved two glasses with drinks, and took a seat on his couch. "Come here."
She walked on her knees to him and took a place between his legs. He handed her one of the glasses and clinked them together. "To Kylie, the best programmer and best cocksucker I've ever known." He took a sip.
She drank the whole glass down. She thought it was another old fashioned, but she drank it so fast she wasn't sure. "Thank you, Sir. Is there any service you would like me to perform?"
The answer was obvious, still sticking straight up out of his pants with its fat head. "Tiara cams were a brilliant innovation, if I do say so myself," Cara noted. She'd modified the French maid bonnet to a tiara and installed hidden cameras in it. "The perspective makes that cock look thirty centimeters long. A foot to you."
"Suck my cock, Miss Kylie." She pulled his stiff rod toward her and took his cockhead into her mouth. "And from now on, Miss Kylie, you will refer to yourself with that name. Understood?"
She nodded, which wiggled him in her mouth, which he liked. He relaxed back, sipped his drink, and made small oohs and ahhs as she used her mouth on him.
"Sweetie, point your feet while you suck him. I want to try the heel cameras." It had taken some work, but together they'd fitted two cameras in the shoes pointing back out of the heels, which was why they'd chosen platforms. "Ooh, good. A little more. Dip your head down."
