Maria Ammerman is an attractive 40 year old petite woman selling exclusive real estate in Dallas. I flew her to Miami, an hour later, Maria pulls up to the ornate wrought-iron gates of the estate, armed with the gate code and key box combination from Alicia’s Rolodex. Sweet perfume from the surrounding citrus groves drifting in through the car’s open windows following her up the long driveway to the house. Maria had a little time before I arrived, so she dashes through the house, turning on lights and opening windows to flush out the stale, musty odors of a place that had been closed up too long. That done, she turns a critical eye on the house itself – it looks nice, but a thick layer of dust has accumulated on the furnishings the owners have left behind. Congratulating herself on her forethought, Maria dashes to her car again for a bucket of cleaning supplies. There isn’t much time, but she can at least mitigate the worst of the dust, shine the mirrors, and wipe a few stains from the kitchen tile.

” So… does the maid service come with the house? If so, I’ll take it!” She whirls, startled by the teasing voice behind her. She had been so caught up in cleaning that she hadn’t heard me arrive. I stood in the doorway, silhouetted against the setting sun. I step into the house, revealing dark hair beginning to gray at the temples, green eyes, and a tasteful expensive suit that accentuated my figure. Blushing, Maria drops a cleaning rag into the bucket and straightens, smoothing her short skirt and extending her hand. ” Good evening! You must be Mr. Malone?” She greeted me.

” Please, call me John.” I smile, my eyes locking with hers in a way that made her shiver. ” And you must be Maria. If I may say so, you look very nice this evening.” I rake my gaze over her body, almost as if I can see through her clothing, through her lingerie, to the vulnerable flesh beneath. Taking her proffered hand, I bend and kiss it ever so gently, my lips warm and soft. ” Umm… Thank you,” She stammers, flustered – but pleased. Stung by Blake’s earlier words, she had taken special pains with her wardrobe tonight, selecting a slim-fitting black skirt, low-cut blouse, and high-heeled pumps instead of her usual conservative suit and comfortable, low-heeled shoes. Perhaps he’d been right – dressing a little sexier might help her land the sale. Besides, there wouldn’t be time to change before her meeting, and she wanted to make a good impression. She had met me a few weeks ago, and this is to be our second meeting.

” So, shall we begin with the kitchen?” She turns and starts through the doorway. ” The granite counter tops were installed three years ago, along with stainless steel sinks and all-new appliances…” Maria glances over her shoulder to see if I’m following her, but I seem rooted to the spot, staring at her with an almost predatory gleam in my eye. ” The kitchen…?” She repeats, gesturing toward the door. ” Perhaps we could start with the bedrooms,” I counter, a confident smirk crossing my lips. The first tendrils of uneasiness prickled at her as she turns toward the stairs, but she told herself that she is being foolish – imagining things.

As a junior executive in a real estate, she made an ungodly amount of money considering her age, and the fact that she had to climb up the hierarchy unassisted by handouts, completely relying on her professional talents. Getting a client like this would increase her budget and reputation, she would rather spend the money on a mini vacation in Aspen or Glacier Park, or buy another high-end business suit to add to her collection, complete with a blouse and a scarf –perhaps a cute little Fendi. She loves accessorizing with a good scarf of a nice timepiece, not just because of her line of work, but because she never deprives herself of the fine luxuries that made her feel attractive. A black label suit with the right pair of shoes magically combined professional woman with Girly Fashionista without over doing either one.

We never exchanged personal information or gifts or anything close to that. I did, however, bring her a bright bouquet of flowers, explaining that I saw them on my way over, and it reminded me of her, ” It smelled good. You smell good. I thought I’d unite the two.” On a whim, she brought me a vintage, mini bottle of cognac telling me that it reminded her of me; it went down smoothly, but still burned like a son of a bitch, which drew a raucous laugh out of me. She didn’t read much into the rose. Just like everything else, I’m a man of discriminating taste, from picking sleek Movado watches over Rolex or Tag Heuer -even though I can afford the latter, more expensive choices- to choosing an exclusive, limited-chain hotel instead of The Ritz Carlton. I made the more traditional choice of roses seem so elegant in comparison to the anecdotic pick of blase carnations. Her feet took her to the vase, sitting on the elaborate glass table, and her right hand darted out to touch one of the flowers unconsciously, before she pulls it back schooling herself to stay detached when it came to the small details that made John…well, John.

After refreshing quickly in the powder room, and fussing over a chip in her light purple nail polish, she decides to stop feeling so anxious seeing me, walking over to the large window that provided a panoramic view. Her day was difficult, and frustrating. It seemed like the deeper she dug, the more holes she found around the company. The only thing that made her feel better was the promise of meeting John. I brought such a lucid sense of clarity that nothing and no one else provided for her before. The door behind her clicked closed startling her from her musings, and she swivels around to find me standing at the door, one hand in my pocket, the other on the door knob, and a teasing smile on my face. Her heartbeat accelerated, and she blinks rapidly touching the tip of her tongue to her top lip quickly, before smoothing her hands on her black skirt. ” You look good.” I complimented, ” I like the white blouse on you.” Good meant Stunning. ” Thank you. Nice tie.” She regains her bravado, drawing confidence from my casual, easy attitude.

I finger the light blue material, ” Huh, thanks, it’s uuh…blue!” I smile. ” So?” she leans left, pressing the heel of her hand against a glass table. I click the door shut before facing her with a strange gleam in my eyes. She straightened and met my gaze head on, before her fingers met at her waist, starting to slip her blazer’s buttons out of their slits one by one. Her initiative jerks at the side of my lip in a ghost smirk, and I mirror her actions, unbuttoning my shirt when she did hers, and toeing my shoes and socks off before reaching for the fly of my trousers. She didn’t need me to tell her to keep her stilettos on, those things are implicitly agreed upon, and her heels sank in the plush carpet, one after the other as she steps out of her skirt.

Her lavender and heather grey bra came off the same time I push my briefs down my legs. My chest has a scattering of gray hair that fans my chest, then tapers down to a happy trail that bisected my stomach, and ended in a darker triangle from which my cock stood, flagrantly aroused. Her heart hammers that sprint-y ratta-tat-tat beat again, and she has to coerce herself to avert her gaze from me –not out of bashfulness, but more in self-preservation for she didn’t want her mind to wander off and bring up suggestions of involvement with me. If the thought of seeing me had made her damp between the legs on her way to the estate, and while she waited for me, the sight of me melting her core making her passion seep like molten lava that stretches into an obscene clear line between her pussy lips and the crotch of her panties when she pulls them down.

Her eyes met mine again, swallowing discreetly when she sees a lascivious grin split my lips apart, ” I’ll take that.” I extend an open hand to her, she licks her lips again, dropping the balled up violet lace cheekie in my palm. I’m staring at her, as if I see something she didn’t see in the mirror, something that others didn’t notice, and is mystified and galvanized by it. An intriguing lure that made my eyes go a few shades deeper, and my pupils expand their radius. How can a stranger make her feel so…whole? So precious, and rare? Don’t question it, her head warns, just enjoy it…enjoy him. She did, placing her hands on my lightly furred chest, she let her fingers wander on my hot skin, making my left pectoral muscle jump slightly. Rising on tiptoe, she offers her mouth to me, and when I merely brush my lips against hers and draws back holding them a centimeter away, she pinches my flat nipple between her thumb and forefinger, combing the fingers of her left hand through my hair, cupping the back of my head and bringing it down for a hungry, open-mouth kiss.

I love to tease, I’m the most avaricious participant when I finally cease my play, it takes her breath away. A moan escapes her when I mold my open mouth to hers sucking her lower lip without a trace of gentleness, then twirls my tongue around hers, before twisting my head further to the side for a better angle. I bracketed her cheeks with my hands, and ate at her mouth like I knew how to draw a secret sweet nectar from the depths of her soul to slake my thirst. My body is hot and hard against her softness, as she pushes her breasts against my chest wanting to cry out when my stiff chest hair grazes the plump mounds of her breasts.