Today would have to wait, thought Marla Holton as she hurriedly gathered her bag and notebook in preparation for a no-holds-barred departure from her office at Prism Design. As general manager she had the privilege of arriving and leaving at will, though no one could ever fault her for not putting in a full day's and night's work. Usually Marla would announce to her secretary, Marian Leopold, that she was going somewhere, and then she would spend the next thirty to forty-five minutes circling the hall offices, talking with people who were just arriving, visiting and in general doing everything but departing.
Eventually her staff at Prism began to kid her about the fact that when she said she was leaving, she meant that she was cruising the office for no good reason at all. She good-naturedly giggled at her employees, many of whom had long since graduated from 'employee' to the coveted status of friend, and agreed with them. As time passed and it became even more difficult for "Elvis to leave the building," the staff began making bets as to how long it would actually take Marla to exit the building on Palm Beach's portion of the Intracoastal Waterway.
This time she wanted to be alone to think and realized that if she didn't leave right away, it being Wednesday, she probably would not do so at all. Moreover, she planned to meet Virginia for lunch. She pressed "Control-Alt-Delete" on her recently installed computer system, clicked on "Lock Computer," stepped to the door of her secretary's office and motioned for Marian to step into her room when she got off the telephone.
"I have no earthly idea what I'd do without her," she remarked to no one in particular as she sat down on her couch to wait for the young woman. She idly surveyed herself in the quiet of her office as she heard Marian's conversation wind down following an appointment with a photographer for a shoot the following week.
Waist-length thick, wiry white hair, loose and spread out in a massive cloud as usual, felt wonderfully sexy on her bare arms. She wore a form-hugging cranberry sweater without sleeves, a black leather micro-skirt and matching spike-heel leather shoes. The skirt felt marvelously sexy, for it was tight, butter-soft and reached just below the bottom curve of her shapely ass when she stood. She wore a delicate lacey half-bra beneath her sweater, one that supported her breasts while exposing nipples and deliciously rounded tops; under the tiny skirt there was nothing but her warm, smooth flesh. It occurred to her that she could not even recall the last time when she had worn either a thong or panties.
Her pussy hid beneath a curly, bluish-black starburst of thick gorgeous fur that began as a five-inch-wide strip below her navel and narrowed to a point just short of her anal cleft. When Virginia had left for the University of Texas, she was clean-shaven. In the four years since she had allowed her grass to grow in anticipation of Virginia's return. It was the erotic blessing enjoyed by her hair stylist, Brian, to sculpt this lush mat during her weekly visit to his salon.
Marla considered how she looked in public with everything she possessed on display, and experienced the usual sexual jolt. She thrilled to the sensation of exposure around others and her reputation for it. And she relished the weekly interludes with Brian who exercised consummate skill as he carefully groomed her fur after tending to her hair. Not that she'd allowed him to cut her white mane. Rather, she was aroused by his prolonged combing sessions and the way he fondled her striking explosion of hair. He also had such a delicious way of brushing her clit with a finger several times during his sensuous care of her muff. Before he finished his artwork he would ask her to roll over on her tummy. Then he continued his delicate ministrations upon the lower edge of her fur, shaving her entire anal cleft and ass to a glossy softness and gently toying with her tight little hole.
She giggled at herself as she thought of what she usually jokingly said to Brian after he performed these delightful services.
"Brian, I am so glad I found you and Sherryl here at Hair and There. I'm trying to show off your handiwork as often as I can without getting myself arrested. And I feel as if I should apologize for the fact that when you touch me and trim my fur I get wet. I hope it doesn't bother you...but it's your fault. "
"Marla," he shot back without missing a beat, "whatever problem you might present to me in the practice of my profession, that is certainly not one of them. Dear Lady, it is all I can do to be well mannered and keep my hands to myself when you're here. In the proper fashion, of course."
He smiled at her and winked.
"Why in the world would you want to keep your hands to yourself, Brian?" Marla would ask with an air of innocence. "Actually, I would find those hands remarkably pleasing and relaxing. Why not think about that over the weekend?"
He had always laughed with her, had always been a gentleman in every respect. Yet in her heart of hearts she did not at all find unpleasant the thought of his strong, gentle hands roving over her flesh, playing with her fur, sinking tenderly into her moist pussy. And when she was alone and allowed her imagination out to play she usually enjoyed a luscious little orgasm at the thought of Brian's hands caressing her intimate parts.
Her tiny leather skirt with its wide black belt and large but not garish gold buckle simply guaranteed that anyone near her could and would see everything Marla Holton possessed between her smooth muscular legs. If an observer looked carefully as she walked toward or away from her that person could see the extremities of her fur and a delicious hint of the lower curve of her ass. If she bent over or stooped for any reason, all those within visual range could feast their eyes on Marla's gorgeous fluff and her mouth-watering bottom.
When she sat, wherever she sat, nothing was covered other than a small area just below her waist and the tiny portion of her bottom visible from either side. The skirt was so short that her full bush and thighs were completely bare. Since she could never be described as demure, Marla rarely had keeping her legs together as item number one for any given day. It was not that she made a conscious decision, "Right now I'm going to expose myself," when she parted those marvelous legs. She just acted naturally, moving in whatever fashion was comfortable at the moment, and left others to enjoy her nakedness or be offended by it. It was not unknown for her to stretch out one leg while spreading the other, and almost all employees had at some time entered her office to find her with her legs spread far apart under her glass-and-steel desk that had no front. Obviously, the effect was instantly electric whether she was in an airport lounge or behind her desk working or hosting a meeting. Marla enormously enjoyed exposing herself. And it was definitely good publicity for her company.
As president of Prism Designs of Palm Beach, Florida, designer and manufacturer of sensuous and erotic clothing for men and women, Marla wore her own designs for business meetings and professional engagements, pleasure, personal contacts and promotional purposes. In other words, all the time. She achieved fame early-on in her company when she appeared at meetings wearing lovely jackets and sweaters over her tiny skirts...and nothing else beneath. Just because a gathering was a business meeting had no influence whatever over her enjoyment of baring herself casually. It took a while for her company managers to get used to this in meetings and some never accomplished that at all.
She always enjoyed a good laugh when she would show up at a meeting and find people in attendance who had no earthly purpose being there. But they really wanted to see what sort of sensuous display she would present. A running joke among those with whom Prism did business was that her meetings were the best attended in company history. Of course, since she had founded the company it didn't have all that much history. But there had been a lot of meetings and hers always had waiting lists.
No matter...she relished her casual eroticism and never even considered altering her form of dress.
In short, she was a powerfully sexual woman who was quite open about her sensuality and her desires. Admirers as well as those who despised her for this sensuality, for her success, or simply because they despised everyone who didn't despise Marla often referred to her as "Legs." Whether the name was intended as a compliment or a curse, Marla had legs to die for...and to get between.
She treasured this manifestation of her sexual appeal to men and women.
As she awaited Marian's entrance she reached into her bag and withdrew her rosebud, a stainless steel strawberry-shaped device a little more than three inches in length overall, topped by a short stalk with a deep blue sapphire stone set into its flat, circular top. "Rosebud" is the more cultured name for an anal plug worn by men and women for purposes of erotic decoration. The device can be worn in both sitting and standing positions and she frequently inserted one of these into her hole. It was one of Virginia's Pussy Pins creations, as were other decorative anal inserts and bars she enjoyed wearing in public.
With a light gel from a tiny bottle she carried Marla covered the gently pointed little bulb, leaned sideways to bare her hole, inserted it and slowly pressed the rosebud home. Once the bulb was seated inside her anus she relaxed. It felt quite pleasant for it gave a sensation of fullness and heaviness within her. She was aroused by the knowledge that when she bent over her decoration was completely visible.
