Thread: Whatever comes up... (Silvamoon & Adam)

Richard chuckled as he watched the choked girl rush out of his office. It was all so easy, almost like stealing candy from a little child. Satisfied with her reaction, he returned to his desk to get some work done. But before he started to read quarterly reports he made a couple of phone calls to make sure that everything was prepared for the evenings activities. When he finally left the office he had not gotten much work done. His mind had been to absorbed with her to be able to focus on projected earnings and hostile takeovers. All he could think about was the soft feeling of her shaved pussylips against his fingers. For so long he had dreamed about this. Not to conquer her sexually - well, to be honest, he had fantasized about that on more than one occasion - but to push her down from her pedestal, to see her fall from graze. Now that all his dreams suddenly were coming true, he could hardly believe it was real. Probably she could not believe it either, but for her the dream would turn out to be a nightmare. It was eight o'clock when he walked out into the fresh evening air. He usually worked a lot, most of his waken time actually, and this day was no exception. After a quick dinner at the Italian place down the road where he had a standing reservation, he took a cab to the club. It was located in the shabby part of the city center, in the kind of area respectable people avoided after nightfall. The text Aphrodite was written in pink neon light above the entrance, but the h and the e had stopped working long ago. Next to the text was a blinking outline of a big breasted female with spread legs. Richard walked past the small queue, and the guard just nodded as he went inside. Everyone knew him here. The inside of the club was just as run down as the outside. The small smoke filled room was crowded with men of all ages, most of them concentrated around the stage in the middle of the room where a girl with red hair just were about to remove her glittering red bra. Her breasts looked just as fake as the red tone of her hair. The guests, a mix of tired workers from the nearby harbor, disillusioned white collar slaves from the many office complex and lonely old men without any other options to get some kind of sexual relief, were all cheering and clapping. All around the room young female waitresses, none of them seemed to be older than 25, were taking orders and handing out drinks. The way they were dressed made it all to clear that they were as much a part of the entertainment as the girl on the stage, and pinching, fondling and groping seemed to be more rule than exception. Richard sat down in an old, ruptured leather sofa in the back of the room. It did not take long before one of the scantly clad waitresses came up to him. She was wearing a ridiculously short black skirt in some kind of glossy plastic material, and a shoulder-less pink top with the word SLUT written on it in silvery glitter. It was so short that it did not even cover the bottom part of her ballooning breasts. The outrageous outfit made her look like something straight out of a porno, and the shape of her body would have reinforced the impression, were it not for the fact that she was a little bit to emaciated to look really attractive. Hi Richard. Thank you for last time. It was... She stopped for a second, as if it was hard for her to force herself to continue the sentence. ...special. she finally said, playing nervously with her curly blonde hair. Richard suppressed a smile as he remembered their last meeting. She had no reason to thank him, quite the opposite, but doing it anyway was part of her job. Without further comments, he ordered a beer, which she promptly brought him. Taking a sip from it, he looked at his watch. Nine sharp. She should be here any minute now.