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House for Sale with Extras

By: Rex Siter



Greg Martin walked out onto the gravel drive and turned to look at the house, this 'mini-mansion' as Tania had called it at the outset. Within eighteen months she was talking about it being too small. 

Greg shook his head now as he viewed the imposing frontage with the pillars supporting the arch over the large front door. Four large bedrooms, plus a spare room which had briefly been his workplace, a vast sitting room, a lounge with a 48 inch television on one wall, a dining room, a spacious conservatory that overlooked a wide lawn and neatly laid out rear garden. 

And it was too small, for just the pair of them? 

Greg had always found it difficult to keep up with Tania's tastes in general, and her whims in particular, which took into account her wild sexual demands. He had, over the past year, wondered whether he would have physically survived her libido beyond the two years they'd been together. 

Looking up above the doorway arch, Greg regarded the large decorative window, which was at one end of the upstairs corridor, and he recalled the day he had returned from a trip promoting his book. Stepping out of the car, he had glanced up at that window and had found himself gazing at Tania's voluptuous naked body, legs wide, arms spread, red hair flaring, as she pressed her fiery bush against the glass, and smiled that constantly provocative smile at him. 

Greg had known that within minutes his rising erection would be poking into that bush, trying desperately to quench the fire that was always aflame there. Tania was constantly ready for it. There was not one room in the whole house where they had not carried out some sexual activity, nearly always at her instigation. Blowjobs in the bath, anal in the annexe, cunnilingus in the conservatory, and screwing just anywhere, including on the lawn, they were all fairly standard, and interchangeable.

Ten months alone in the house had been time enough for Greg's anger to subside, as he had advised himself that he might have recognised that Tania could never be fully satisfied. Her final betrayal should have been no surprise, but it had left him with a sense of inadequacy which had somehow been eased when friends told him about her activities during one of his book promotion tours.

Looking up at the building which, at Tania's instigation, he had purchased on the strength of the success of his second book, Greg knew that he was now doing the right thing. How he had managed to survive these past months within its walls he'd never know. He was now awaiting a visit from the estate agents Manners and Garrett, to both consider the value of this house and to secure himself a residence that would most fit his needs.

Julie Simmons first sight of the house had her nodding appreciatively. She turned to Victor Manners, who had slowed the car, "This looks fairly special," she observed, and the older man's wrinkled face regarded her with a kindly smile.

"I thought you'd appreciate the chance to market a more up-grade property," he told her. After a few years with several agencies, Julie had been overjoyed to be appointed junior partner of this well established firm just three months ago.

Up until then it had felt that she had hit a dead-end. Life seemed to crush in upon her. The divorce eighteen months ago had been bitter and cruel. In spite of the obvious evidence of his frequent infidelities, Mike had contested the case with such blatant lies about her conduct that in the end, although granted the divorce, he had kept the house, and had to make very little financial reparation to her. 

Being with a smaller estate agent she had managed to secure herself a tidy enough place, which was far removed from the comfortable three bed roomed house she had shared with Mike. Anyway, the whole affair had left her with the belief that 'all men are bastards.' Fortunately she had a couple of friends, both divorced, who agreed with her assessment.

The recent past, working with Vincent Manners and Clive Garrett, both in their early sixties, had been a pure joy compared with what had gone before. They had allowed her to ease herself gradually into the business, and this visit was another forward step in her progress.

"The gates are remote controlled," Victor commented as gravel crunched under their wheels. "Mr Martin agreed to leave them open especially for us. I believe that could be him standing outside."

"It's quite an imposing frontage," Julie said enthusiastically, "I like the front door and that large window over the top of it. I wonder why he wants to sell."

"For something bigger hopefully," Victor said, with a smiling sideways glance at her. "He's an author, you know. Greg Martin, heard of him?"

Julie shook her head, although somewhere in the back of her mind was the sense that she had maybe heard or read the name before. As Victor brought the car to a halt in front of the house, their client, Greg Martin, walked towards them, a warm smile on his face, which was quite handsome under a tumble of dark hair. He was fairly tall and looked quite well trimmed in a blue shirt and navy pants. There was only one fault—he was a man.

As they climbed out of the car, Greg Martin held out his hand to Victor, and said, "Good of you to come so quickly."

Victor chuckled, "Where business is concerned I'm very quick."

As Julie made her way around the car, he said, "May I introduce Julie Simmons, a new junior partner."

As she held out her hand, Julie sensed a momentary hesitation on Greg Martin's face. His eyes appeared to take in more than just her face. She didn't like that. Was that the look of a wolf? Then his hand held hers briefly in a handshake that at least did not try to impress with its grip.

"I'm looking forward to seeing inside the property," she said, wishing to appear friendly. "It is very impressive from here."

For Greg something else was impressive from his standpoint. In recent months, as he worked on his next novel, he had paid little attention to good looking women. He had no wish to be attracted. Just getting over Tania's perfidiousness had been task enough.

However, this Julie Simmons, had set something ticking inside him, like some long unwound clock. Under a flow of tawny hair, her rounded face had a glow and spark about it that suggested a lively spirit. Green eyes, allied to that tawny hair, wasn't that cat-like? Her figure, trim in a navy skirt and waistcoat style jacket, open to reveal a white blouse, gently raised by the subtle push of neat breasts.

Did he really take all that in with one first glance? What was going on here? Could he put it down to his long period of celibacy? Not really, hadn't he put his lack of response to other women down to a form of recovery from Tania's wild sexuality? So, why this reaction to an estate agent called Julie Simmons? 

Shaking all the questions from his head, he led Victor Manner and Julie Simmons into the house. She immediately produced a notebook from her small handbag and began making hasty notes as they moved from room to room. Greg had to make a deliberate effort to keep from staring at her.

Then in the lounge, among the generous furnishings, she dropped her pencil. She bent to pick it up, and her pert buttocks pointed up at him through her tightened skirt. 

Unbidden, the memory came of this being the place that Tania had first coaxed him into entering her anally. Giving him what he came to call her 'sex smile', she had flicked up her flimsy robe, leaned forward over the thickly upholstered arm of the sofa, and said, "I'm already lubricated." She had been, and Greg had been surprised and only a little disgusted, at the way his erection overcame initial tightness to slide up into her.

"Have you a figure in mind?" The female voice tore him back to the present, and he was looking, slightly bemused, into those green eyes, as Victor Manners nodded his approval at her question.

"Er—I --well-" God, he couldn't let such memories interfere with his involvement with these people. He managed to tell them that nearly two years earlier he had paid just short of one and a half million. "I'd be happy to hear your evaluation now," he added, glad to overcome his initial diversion, but aware of Julie Simmons' furrowed brow.

As they moved around the house, Greg found it increasingly difficult to avoid thoughts of Tania associated with each room. He had thought he had left that problem behind, and knew it could only be the presence of Julie Simmons, that was provoking him. He was taking it as a sign that he desired her madly, but rationalising such thoughts he realised that she was the first female to be in these rooms since Tania's time. Yet he was uncomfortable about what might show on his face whenever their eyes met. 

In the main bedroom Victor Manners murmured, "Mm, very cosy." Julie Simmons concurred, adding, "And such a neat lay out of cushions." Even before she'd finished saying it, Greg was recalling Tania lying back naked on the bed, grabbing a cushion to tuck under her buttocks, legs spread, so that her fiery bush was thrust upwards as she whispered sensuously, "Eat me, Greg. Lick me out."

To kill the image Greg strode over to the window and said, "The view over the garden is always relaxing." Pathetic, he told himself, you're selling a building not a view.

So it went on. Room to room, the presence of a delectable female body alongside him brought unwanted images of Tania's passionate influences. In the second bedroom she had introduced him to what she called her Indian rope trick. After a hectic session, as they lay sated and showered, Greg was ready just to doze off, but Tania had made the suggestion of doing heer Indian rope trick.

"Your what?" he had asked. She had given him 'that smile' which always preceded some sexual excursion, and whispered, "You'll see."

Her fingers had reached down and began running back and forwards along his very dead, limp penis. As she did that, Greg had recalled an earlier girl friend shrinking from the very idea of touching a flaccid penis. It hadn't surprised him that Tania had no such qualms. What did surprise him was that, given the activity they had just been through, he felt his penis begin to twitch as she lifted its limpness, and continued her stroking.

When she lowered her head so that her tongue joined in the caressing motions, Greg knew for certain that, amazingly, he was beginning to harden. Triumphantly, Tania gripped that hardness and cried, "See, it's up. I've performed the Indian rope trick." Having said that she dropped her head and enveloped his new erection right to the back of her throat. Greg didn't need to do anything, as Tania's mouth and tongue worked up and down his solid length until whatever juices he had left in his scrotum spurted down her gulping throat. Then he had really slept.

Leading the two estate agents into the large bathroom with its generous corner bath and large shower cubicle, Greg had to admit to himself that there were, in fact, too many erotic images to recall. So much had happened there.

The smaller fourth bedroom was their last viewing. "Narrow windows here," Victor Manners commented. 

"Not out of place for this room though," Julie Simmons added.

Greg could only nod in agreement, but he didn't say anything about the room being easier to black out. Only a vague memory remained of Tania and he doing anything in this room. What was of greater significance was what two male acquaintances had told him a few months after Tania had taken her leave. On separate occasions, and cautiously, each had spoken of a 'swingers' party Tania had held while Greg was away on a book promotion trip. 

"All very impressive," Victor Manner said, as they descended the stairs. "Julie and I will discuss a price for the property, and contact you tomorrow for your approval. Then we'll go ahead from there."

At the foot of the stairs, Julie Simmons turned to him, those green eyes doing something to his equanimity, "You live here alone, Mr Martin?"

"For the past ten months," Greg told her, trying to convey a secret offer by looking squarely into her face. All she did was lower her face to her notebook.

Victor Manners broke into any further considerations he might have, as he asked, "And are you looking to upgrade for your next property?"

"God, no, I don't need this kind of space. Three bedrooms maybe, detached, modern."

"On an estate?" Julie Simmons asked.

"I'm fairly open about that—I wouldn't mind something isolated." He gave her what he hoped was an open look as he was tempted to add, 'Where we could be alone together.' Whoa, what's wrong with you, Greg Martin? You surely have more control of your emotions than this.

Having agreed to make early contact, first of all with a proposed valuation, and secondly with any suitable suggestions for his new abode, Victor Manners and Julie Simmons walked out to their car. Opening the driver's door, Manners gave him a cheery farewell wave. Julie Simmons climbed into the car without looking back.

After watching the car move away up the drive, Greg sighed, and turned back into the house, wondering how his equanimity had been so disturbed. An attractive woman, surely it was more than that, the world was full of them. But he could not convince himself. 

"A very pleasant fellow," Victor observed as he steered the car out onto the main road. "A fine house, too."

Julie tried to keep her thoughts on business, "I'll have a value worked out for tomorrow," she said, taking a quick glance back at the imposing building they had just left.

"And you could see what we have already on our books that might interest him." Victor said, adding, "A lonely man, and a successful author. A lovely catch for some lucky lady."

Julie turned her head to see the little smirk on Victor's face, "None of that, Victor," she scolded. Victor, happily married himself, had recently started to tease her about her unmarried state. When she tried to tell him that she was not interested because of her bad experience with Mike he always came out with the same reply. 

"Okay. Okay." He said now, with a shake of his head, "But he's your case. Make of it what you will."

"Strictly business," she said firmly. 

"Julie, I would expect nothing less from you," Victor said, as he negotiated a roundabout. "But you're—how old?"

"Twenty eight."

"See? The clock ticks on. Yes, you got hurt, but ---"

"I know, Victor," Julie sighed. "One frosty experience doesn't make a winter. How many times have you---?"

"And I'm going to keep on," he interrupted. "Like the old song, 'You're nobody 'til somebody loves you.' Not your era maybe, but true." And he went on singing the song quietly in his rough gravelly voice.

Julie looked out of the window and wondered how this conversation had started. Was it Greg Martin's lonely state? It's not that he was bad looking. But he was probably lonely because his woman had left him. Good for her. She was probably escaping his lustful demands, just as she had finally done with Mike.

Had she imagined it, but hadn't his eyes been on her every time she looked at him? There had been times when they seemed to bore into her, trying to read her mind. Even when he was behind her she was sure his gaze was boring into her back. It was very creepy. Was she really going to have to face that until she got his business settled? The thought of perhaps having to be alone with him as he lusted after her was not appealing.

"--but gold wont bring you happiness when you're growing old." Victor's rough tones quietly rumbled on. He just wouldn't give up, and keeping her cool, Julie tried to shut out his vocal advices.

For some crazy reason as she viewed the passing countryside, it was those awful final months with Mike that plunged unbidden into her mind. So many times since they'd been apart she had fretted over the fact that it had taken her the full two years of their marriage for her to admit to herself that her nook was not the only one being ploughed by the horny bastard. 

For the first few months their intimacies had been acceptable. He did occasionally take her to a high, but more often he was too rough or unwilling to care about her pleasure, yet, often he was not in the mood himself. It took her six months to consider that his 'not being in the mood' might indicate that she had a rival, and pretty soon she was certain that there wasn't just one rival, but many, as he spent more and more time out of her company. 

It was in those later months leading up to her move for a divorce that his only sexual demands were to have her take him in her mouth. There was no caressing, no foreplay, and for her, no pleasure, only disgust at the way he imposed his filthy, degrading demands upon her. She was sure it was when she finally found the strength to fight off such advances that he began to formulate his case to present to a judge. There was no doubt about it, Mike Simmons was a total bastard, and she intended to make a move to erase that surname.

"—so find yourself somebody to love." Victor growled into the conclusion of his song, as he threw her a swift sideways glance.

No chance, Julie sighed to herself. Hell would freeze over before she'd commit herself to another man.

When the estate agent's car had disappeared onto the main road, Greg turned back into the house, wondering why he was feeling so distracted. There was the round, bright face of Julie Simmons, those green eyes, the tawny hair, all locked behind his eyes. Yet her presence had triggered the memories of Tania which he had hoped he had buried.

Unwillingly he went upstairs to that fourth bedroom with the narrow windows that could be easily blacked out. Greg stood just inside the door and tried to envisage just what had happened in this room while had been away.

He had been annoyed and disbelieving when the first male acquaintance had, when they met at a local party, had spoken of the event.

"Honest, Greg, I wouldn't be mentioning this if the two of you were still together," the guy had said guardedly. "But she invited about a dozen men and women. A 'Swingers' party she called it. Hell, it sounded intriguing, and the activities, Greg, well, you can imagine. All the usual. Car keys in the centre of the floor, cards with parts of the body written on them and a man could choose from one pile and the name of a woman from another. He then had to stroke whatever body part was listed. Oh, all kinds of coupling went on. There was bare flesh everywhere."

Greg had found his fists clenching as the guy went on, "But it was what she called the 'Black Room' that was so fascinating. A room would be totally blacked out. At any time a man or a woman could go in there after leaving a card outside telling what sex they were. They had to be completely naked, a member of the opposite sex could go in, and they could indulge in any activity that pleased them."

Greg remembered the guy's eyes fixing on him, almost apologetically, as he went on. "Just after nine, one man went in and was closely followed by another. Somebody told us about it, and we knew it was Tania that was in there. Sometime later we jeered wildly as the two men staggered out as though all the sauce had been sucked out of them. 'Wanted it everywhere, she did', one of them gasped. Turns out that she'd told each man, quite separately, what time she would be in that room. She really set up the threesome. Some sexpot, eh?"

Greg would have dismissed the story if, about two months later, chance had him listening to a near identical version from another guy who had been there. Had he known at the time might he have kicked her out? He would never be sure, but it could have spared him the shameful, unmanning circumstance of their actual split. 

With both women still circling in his head, Greg moved into the room he called his office, and sat in front of the computer where he had completed twenty chapters of his latest thriller. It was to be a story of a man disposing of his unfaithful wife, and, perhaps, getting away with it.


House for Sale with Extras



Sitting there he backtracked to a chapter he had already written. He had given much thought into the sensibility of writing it, but, with changed names, it was a vivid account of that awful, emasculating, final episode which saw Tania flounce out of his life. Cathartic? In writing it, that is what he had hoped for, and, up to a point it had worked. But, in his present state of mind he wondered if he should be reading it now.

Sure enough, within seconds the whole sorry time was pouring into his head. There was that phone call telling him that Mr Carl Sanchelle had admired his book and would like him 'and his good lady' to attend a small party aboard his yacht, 'Gargantua'. Stunned by the offer, Greg had naturally accepted. Sanchelle was probably the best known entrepreneur in the area. When he told Tania her eyes had lit up, "The entrepreneur?"

"Or gangster, depending on how you regard him," Greg told her. A police acquaintance had once told him of their suspicions about the source of the man's wealth, but whenever there appeared to be the chance of a reliable witness, he or she, would mysteriously disappear. 

Tania's head shook at his comment," Oh, surely not. He's a fun guy---I've heard."

Her pause should have been a signal, but they went. Tania appeared smelling like a million rose bushes, and dressed in a pale green dress with a neckline from which much of her generous bosom bloomed; Greg guessed it was not meant to impress him. With her red hair tumbling at her shoulders she looked quite breathtaking.

As soon as they were on the main deck, a tall, broad shouldered man, wearing a bright blue checked silk shirt, white pants, and a wide toothy smile strode to greet them. The eyes though held that sense of menace that Greg half expected from Carl Sanchelle.

After the formal greeting Sanchelle turned to Tania, and said, "And this must be your good lady." He took her hand and brought it to his lips while his eyes ate at the exposure offered by her low neckline. "Delighted to meet you, Tania. You look quite delectable."

Much later Greg would recall that he had never mentioned Tania's name. But that realisation came too late to prevent what was to come.

Sanchelle introduced them to other guests, all of them from the wealthy end of society Greg guessed. With glasses of champagne in their hands they were shown around the Gargantua. Greg thought it more like an ocean liner than a yacht.

After passing a luxurious lounge with a massive TV screen on one wall, they came to a wide corridor which was quite dazzling with a number of doors each one a different colour. Sanchelle proudly pointed out, "The colour of each door signifies the predominant colour of the decor inside that room. See." He opened a pink door to reveal an exotic bedroom with pink wallpaper, pink drapes, and a pink lined bedcover.

The evening became a whirl of chat, eating and champagne drinking. Greg did not fail to notice the lecherous glances Tania took from some of the men, and the, perhaps, envious looks from some of the ladies. Neither did he miss just how much she enjoyed such attention.

As they circulated more and more, Greg found himself becoming separated from Tania, although he was able to see her across the main hall. He found himself in conversation with one guy, who said he was an architect, and who asked, "You haven't been to any of Carl's functions before."

When Greg admitted he hadn't. The guy said, "Oh, as a writer you might enjoy whatever Carl has set up for this evening. He's a hell of a lusty guy and loves displaying the fact---you'll see."

Just before midnight he saw Tania talking to Carl Sanchelle, standing very close, and did he have a hand on her arm? Then someone wanted to talk about his book and he was happy to respond. The next time he looked there was no sign of her, or Carl Sanchelle. Should he have been bothered? After another ten minutes without seeing her he was just a little concerned. He started to looking and asking for her.

One or two people that he asked looked rather uncomfortable. There were very few people dancing now. The dining room was totally empty apart from staff in white aprons clearing up. In the gaming room only two couples were at the roulette table. 

The light in the lounge was dimmed, and the glow from the TV screen dappled watching faces, a surprising number of faces, some mouths agape, some smirking, all wide eyed. 

Something heavy in his chest, Greg stepped inside the door where he could see the screen. Up there in colour the camera was focussed in close-up on a naked female's buttocks, with a blue covered bed behind her. The camera immediately switched right, panned back and, to Greg's horror, there stood a naked Carl Sanchelle, smiling lewdly, his hand holding up his erect penis. From the audience there came a little roar of encouragement.

The camera switched back to the female, and Greg's legs went weak so that he had to hold onto the door. That red bush, there was no mistaking it, and as she lay back on the single bed, legs parted, head over the other side, Greg saw that so familiar lascivious smile under the tousled flame of her hair. Within five dreadful seconds he had taken in the sight of Sanchelle moving between her parted thighs, and, as Greg turned away there was just the hint of a second naked man moving rampantly towards her head. 

Greg raced out into the wide corridor. He didn't have to look for the blue door. A dark suited bouncer type stood in front of it. Greg was no fighter, but in his frantic state, good sense did not come into his thinking. He just ran and as the tough turned towards him, Greg kicked out and was fortunate to feel his careless aim connect with an unready crotch. The bouncer doubled up and Greg flung open the door, yelling Tania's name.

Sanchelle pulled himself out of Tania, yelling, "Camera off." There was another man at Tania's head but he too had stepped back. Greg took it all in. Sanchelle standing their his erection gleaming with Tania's juices, the other man, whose erection looked monstrous, was standing uncertainly looking at Sanchelle. 

Tania's head came up and she yelled, "Oh, fuck off, Greg. This is what I want. I'm not married to you."

That might have been the cruellest blow of all but as he tried to find words, "Tania, you can't—" Hands grabbed him from behind.

"He's sailing me to the Med tomorrow. This is real living, Greg."

A fist was driven into Greg's kidneys so that he almost collapsed with the agony of it. Then, as he was being dragged backwards by what felt like two pairs of hands, Sanchelle strode to him, punched him viciously in the belly, and hissed, "I should have your balls cut off. Get him off my yacht, and don't make it comfortable."

Struggling to take in air, Greg's last image was of Tania's angry face, and her gorgeously displayed body. He was hauled out by some different route, and punches rained on the side of his face and into his kidneys with, it seemed, every step. By the time they reached the quay, he was beyond taking any steps and his feet trailed behind him as pain was his only signal that he was still alive.

How he ever made it to his car and managed to drive home he'd never know. The following morning he was just able to drive down to the quay, and, without getting out of the car, he could see that the Gargantua was no longer berthed there. Tania was gone from his life.

It had become clear to him that the invite to his yacht had been a set-up in which Tania was undoubtedly a part. Her talk of him being 'a fun guy' and his knowing her name when it had never been mentioned. These were dead give-aways. How long had they been seeing each other before that? God, Tania probably knew exactly what part she would play in the evenings 'entertainment'.

There was only slight consolation, but no regret, when, some four months later, he saw a newspaper picture of a smiling Carl Sanchelle with his arm around a lady with vivid blonde hair and thick lips. A caption read, 'Rich socialite steps out with his future bride.' To wonder what had become of Tania was a luxury that Greg would not permit himself.

Greg stood up from the computer and went to the window. Stupid of him to allow those thoughts back in. Now all he had to do was concentrate on the face of Julie Simmons, and hope that her image would drive all his bad thoughts away. Standing there, he was delighted at how pleasingly definite that image remained.

It took Julie Simmons just a couple of days to settle on a price for Greg Martin's property. That fact alone kept him in her mind, but her only concern was that they might have to meet regularly, if, as Victor had requested, she was handling both his selling and his buying of a new place to live. Still worried about how he had looked at her on their first meeting, she resolved that she had to keep it on a strictly business level.

So when she phoned him with the suggested price she remained very formal when he answered the phone.

"Greg Martin speaking." He did have a deep manly voice.

"Yes, Julie Simmons, from Manners and Garrett. I have a suggested price for your property."

"Oh, yes, Julie Simmons," he said, almost hesitantly, as though he had difficulty recalling her name. "I've been looking forward to hearing from you."

Well, Mr Martin, all you're going to hear from me is a price. "I thought a figure of one million seven hundred and fifty thousand would be a reasonable starting price."

"Sounds fair."

"And would you be prepared to drop to say one million six hundred thousand to complete a sale?"

"Would you?" 

His question took her by surprise."It's your property."

"Yes, but I trust your instincts."

Why was she finding this so awkward? "Then, yes, if that gets the sale."

"Is that your point of view as an estate agent or what you would do as an owner?" 

Was he teasing her? Or was it just her imagination? Well she could play along with that. "A bit of both, I suppose."

"Then I'll accept your judgement."

"Good, in that case, I'll have it advertised immediately, and see how it goes. Thank you, Mr Martin."

She was ready to hang up when he quickly asked, "Anything on the purchase side?"

Julie wouldn't admit that she had not had a good scan of what might be available, so she said, "Nothing suitable at the moment."

"Well, I'm relying on you," he said, and Julie was sure that was a laugh in his voice.

After hanging up, Julie found herself wondering what kind of look had been on his face. Had he really been teasing? Anyway, she would set the advertisement going, and take it from there. 

It took another two weeks before an enquiry came in. During that time Julie had scoured their lists for something that might be suitable for Greg Martin, but she had rejected the only three bedroom detached villa because it was close to a railway line. 

The house enquiry came from a middle aged couple seeking a move up in the world. Julie was troubled in her own mind that this would be her first encounter with Greg Martin since the first evaluation. 

What she could not understand was why she should be troubled. How many similar visits had she made at other properties? She had lost count, but it had been the way Greg Martin had looked at her that produced this reluctance. That had been a look of lust in his eyes, hadn't it? Whatever it was she just felt uneasy about being with him, especially since she liked to arrive ahead of the prospective customer.

Having made a hasty, cool telephone call to fix a time with Greg Martin she set out to arrive just five minutes before the customer.

Greg Martin had it timed perfectly. Knowing when the first prospective buyers were due he was looking forward to finding out how easy or difficult selling this place was going to be. But, more than anything, he was going to have the chance to see Julie Simmons again. The passing weeks had slightly faded the image of her in his mind. He was standing in the hall when the doorbell rang.

Quickly he opened the door, and there she was, looking as he knew she would. The hair, the green eyes, looking slightly surprised at the speed at which the door had opened,

"It's so good to see you again," he told her. "Have time for a coffee?"

Greg had stepped aside to usher her into the house and was both shocked and disappointed when she, without looking directly at him, said, "It's such a lovely day, I'll just stay out here. The client's will be here soon."

He wondered what he might have done to produce this coolness from her, and, if it was such a lovely day, why did she have her suit jacket buttoned up to the neck, disguising her elegant figure? He saw the client's car appear on the drive, and within minutes Julie Simmons was efficiently showing the couple around.

Her cool detachment, and avoidance of any socialising with him continued for two of the three further viewings she conducted. Every time she arrived Greg's heartbeat increased, but what began to bother him was his own behaviour. If he was so attracted to her, what was preventing him from making some standard friendly approach himself? But he really knew the answer to that one. 

The truth was that this Julie Simmons had so captured his imagination that because of her apparent coolness he feared making a move that might increase the rift that she seemed to want to keep between them. However, by the third viewing he determined to make just a token gesture of goodwill.

On that occasion he had felt that, at least, her wonderful green eyes met his more frequently, although she remained buttoned up and coolly asexual. As she followed the viewing pair out, Greg made his move and held out a copy of his book.

"I don't know if you're a reader, Ms Simmons-"

"Call me, Julie."

Now, was that progress? "And I'm Greg," he said, as he held out the book with a smile," as it tells you on the cover. If you'd care to read it some time."

For a moment, standing in the doorway, she hesitated and glanced at the offered volume as though it might be a bomb. But then, she held out her hand, and accepted his offer, with a quick nod and a brief, "Thank you." Then she was away, leaving Greg unsure whether he had made any real progress, but at least they were now on first name terms. That had to be progress. But would she ever read the book?

In fact, Julie was an avid reader. She was also a slightly confused lady. From her initial decision on the type of male Greg Martin would be, he had shown no indication of moving in on her. The gift of his book was the only gesture he had made. In fact her own relaxed attitude had prompted her to exchange first names. Of course, he'd had no need to indicate his name on the cover of the book. From the outset he had been the customer, Mr Greg Martin.

Arriving home, she placed the book alongside three other books on her bedside table. For the first few nights the vivid green cover kept catching her attention, but she was set to finish the current piece of bed-time reading she was into. She resolved that Greg Martin's book would be next on her list. Not that she was interested of course, but it might reveal more about the nature of the man.

In the meantime she went along with one more viewing and sensed that Greg was dying to ask if she had read the book. Deliberately she avoided making any comment, and she acted out her ubiquitous attitude to him. That was when it occurred to her that was exactly what she was doing she was 'acting it out'. Did that mean she didn't really feel cool towards him? Damn that, she thought, she had to continue to be cautious.

When, after two weeks, she finally climbed into bed, picked up Greg's book, and began reading, she was sure that the book would reveal something of his sexual proclivities. From the start, she had to admit, she was impressed. His style was highly readable, the prose terse and the chapters short, always leaving her wondering what happened next.

The main character, called Brad, worked for a security firm but circumstance led him to be privately employed by a billionaire to make sure his wayward twenty year old daughter kept the family name out of the Press. Eventually came the scene when he took the unconscious daughter to his home to recover from the rohypnol, two sex traders had been plying her with. 

Here comes the sex, Julie reckoned, and read on. When the girl came around the next day Brad told her of her lucky escape. Almost immediately she wanted to show him her gratitude and began unbuttoning her blouse, revealing appealing small breasts. Julie thought that it was going to be just as she'd expected. She closed the book, and went to sleep. 

Unable to resist, she opened the book the following night, and contrary to her expectation, Brad gave the girl a lecture on saving her body 'as a gift for someone you love.' A little surprised,(and was she disappointed?) she went on reading.

By the fifth night of reading she was into the final section of the book. All the way through, the hero, Brad, had been aching for a lady in his own office, and in the late sequence they were together in a hotel room, kissing passionately. No doubt they were going to be intimate and Julie was convinced that now she would have some indication of how Greg's writing would tell her something about his lustfulness.

Breaking off kissing, hero Brad and his lady slowly began to undress each other. His description of the moment when, both naked, they held hands, leaned back and viewed each other's body, was written with such delicacy that Julie was quite stunned. Her amazement was increased when Greg wrote of the actual seduction. From the very first moves, every stroke of breast, every touch of finger, every adoration by tongues, was carried out with such gentility, such genuine warmth of feeling that it was counter to everything Julie had been expecting. 

The moment of entry by Brad was so subtly written, his caring, tender, gradual invasion of her deepest secrets, was geared to achieving his aim of giving her maximum pleasure and delight. It was so gently erotic that Julie was shocked to find that between her thighs had moistened. How long since she'd experienced that sensation? Never, with a book. Seldom with any man.

The book came to a pleasing and satisfying conclusion, with a sigh, Julie closed it, snuggled down in her bed with her mind full of questions, about herself, her twisted sexual experience, and her attitude to this Greg Martin. 

Yet, for a moment, it was the twisted experiences that forced their way to the surface of her thinking, with those last hateful sessions with Mike. He would grab her ears or pull her hair to get her mouth down to his often unwashed prick, which had just come from being up some easily pleased bimbo or other. Always she was made to gag on the taste of their illicit passion before his slime poured into her mouth, or, if he was kind, down her throat. 

Get out of my head, you bastard. Was it any wonder she was cautious about all men? However, as she drifted into sleep she took with her an image of Greg Martin, standing in his front doorway, smiling, and inviting her in for coffee.

It was quite a few weeks before Greg saw Julie again. She had been in touch to tell him that a lone male buyer was interested. Greg, as had become his habit, had the front door open before she'd mounted the steps. Immediately, he sensed some change in her demeanour, but was wary about being tricked by something his own imagination was reading into the situation. Yet there she was coming towards him, and wasn't that the warmest smile she'd ever bestowed on him?

More than that, it was another bright Summer day, and she had her suit jacket over her arm, and her breasts swelled a neat pale blue blouse. Not for the first time, the very sight of her took Greg's breath away, and once again he made his standard offer. "Coffee?"




House for Sale with Extras



"That would be nice," she said, and she was looking straight at him, as his knees went weak. God, could this be true? He led her through to the large kitchen where she sat at the table while he fussed over making the best coffee he could muster.

When they were sitting facing each other Julie apologised that she had been unable to gain a buyer so far.

"Not your fault. I guess money's tight at the moment."

Julie nodded her appreciation of his reply before going on, "Quite honestly, on the buying front I've found nothing that would meet your criteria."

Greg shrugged, "Well, that's less of a priority while this place is sticking."

Julie nodded, an action that caused a stray strand of hair to drop most fetchingly over her forehead. God, he thought, she is so beautiful. You really have to push on, Greg Martin, if she's just a little more relaxed with you.

The door bell broke into his thoughts. This client, a tall man, dark hair lightly grey at the temples, instantly got under Greg's skin, just from the way his eyes roamed up and down Julie's body. 

As they moved around the lower floor Greg said, "I'll come around with you," Greg said, and caught Julie's look of gratitude.

"That won't be necessary," the man said, with a lewd smile in Julie's direction.

"I think it will," Greg told him, and, as a consequence, the tour became very swift. The viewer left inside twenty minutes.

"He wasn't interested in the house," Greg said. He gave Julie a frank stare, "I'm sure he was more interested in you." He was going to say 'your body' but checked himself just in time.

Julie's lips were tight as she said, "His eyes had my clothes off at least three times."

"Four," Greg said, hoping to lighten the mood.

"He came into the office yesterday. I'm sure he was hoping I would be alone to show him around." Julie glanced at her watch, looked at Him apologetically and said, "Oh, I have another appointment. I must fly."

As they reached the door, she turned suddenly and said, "Oh, so remiss of me. I read your book, and I thought it was terrific."

"Terrific?" Greg laughed. "Now I'll wager you're the first one to use that expression for it."

"I really couldn't put it down. Thank you for putting it my way."

Then, she was on her way, and Greg felt a greater emptiness, given the way their relationship seemed to have lightened. Next time, he told himself he would have to make some greater steps towards getting to know her better. The door seemed to be worth an extra push now. 

He didn't have long to wait. That meeting had been a Friday, and the following Tuesday morning she phoned to say there was a property he might like, but it could only be viewed later in the afternoon. Greg told her he had no problem with that, and was able to confirm that he knew the location.

Every time he saw her was a new experience. Greg knew very well that he was well and truly hooked on this lovely lady. Now all he had to do was to woo her like a bold knight of old. Oh, yes, that was all. Some hopes.

The house in question was large and detached in an exclusive estate. Greg liked the spaciousness and general design, but was disappointed by the view from the rear which was directly onto other houses. As he and Julie left he told the owner that he would think it over, but knew what his decision would be.

As they reached their cars, Greg knew that as far as his relationship with Julie was concerned now was the time to make his move. He glanced at his watch before saying, "The Willow pub serves a good meal and I'm due to eat," Greg drew in a deep breath before asking, "Would you join me?"

Her look at him had a momentary uncertainty in it, then she smiled and told him, "I know the Willow. That would be very pleasant." 

For Greg her acceptance was like hearing that there was a Santa Claus.

Accepting Greg's offer had been no real problem at all for Julie. Her momentary delay in responding to his suggestion had been pure wilfulness. Even though she had few doubts about him she felt that caution was still needed. 

Just being in his company as they'd viewed the house had told her something about herself. Julie Simmons had moved in one very short step from being a declared man-hater to having a sense of warmth about a man whose intentions she had initially feared. She was one very confused lady.

But sitting at a table in the cosy lounge of the Willow pub, with each of them eating a delicious steak and ale pie, being able to look across at him as he ate made her feel as though her blood was pumping faster through her veins.

As they ate and talked, Julie also found that, what had once chilled her, she now found pleasingly complimentary, as he looked at her. At first their conversation was about the house they had just seen, and the prospects of a future sale. At that point she told him of a couple she would like to bring around on the following day. "They've driven past your house, and might be keen. But don't build up your hopes."

With the meal finished and as Julie downed the last of her cider, Greg asked a question which helped her into the query she had wanted to make about him.

"Are you married, Julie?" His question was tentative as though he might be worried about her answer. Without any detail, she simply told him of Mike's frequent infidelities.

His response to that made her heart give an extra thump."Some men just don't appreciate when they're well off."

To cover her pleasure at that, Julie quickly asked, "Your wife left you?"

His eyes looked briefly saddened, "We weren't married. But we'd been partners for two years. She talked me into buying the house."

"Yet she left it? A famous author, a beautiful house---" Julie checked, feeling that she was being too inquisitive. For a few seconds Greg gazed across the pub, and she was sure he was considering what to tell her.

Appearing to have made up his mind, he leaned across the table and, in lowered tones, he told her, "There were two things important in Tania's life, and the first was money." He paused, before drawing in a deep breath and adding, "Plus she was a rather oversexed lady, and I guess, in the end, I didn't come up to her demands."

Wow, Julie thought, that was quite the opposite to what she had theorised about him. In a way she almost regretted having made him talk about it.

To ease the situation she told him that she knew the Willow because she lived less than a miles away. "Is that right?" he said, his eyes on her. "That means you live less than two miles from my little cottage."

"Some cottage," she said, and it was good to sit there and laugh together. Strange sensations were beginning to disturb her whenever she looked at him.

Out on the car park he was standing very close, almost leaning towards her. Was he about to kiss her? For just a second Julie wondered what her reaction might be. She half hoped he would try, but she quickly dispelled the idea. Then Greg, his dark eyes firm on her, had taken her hands in his, gave them a quick squeeze, before saying, "Thank you for a very pleasant evening." 

"I've enjoyed it. And tomorrow might be hopeful."

Greg had thought about trying a kiss as they left the pub, but once again, fear of mistiming his approach to Julie, held him back. Holding her hands for a few seconds was something of a treat. Sitting close in the pub had been quietly intimate, and he had surprised himself by being able to say something about Tania. The fact that he had to wait until one o'clock on the following afternoon before seeing her again, left him feeling very impatient.

When that time did arrive it was with an initial sense of disappointment as the two viewers drove up at exactly the same time as Julie. They had little time for private chat as she introduced the two prospective buyers. There had been so many empty viewings that Greg had allowed pessimism to take over on these visits.

This couple were younger than some they'd seen, mid forties, Greg reckoned. An attractive pair, the man tall and dark, while his wife was round faced, blonde haired, cheery, and very enthusiastic. As they moved around the house, she was all 'oohs' and 'aahs' as she viewed the various features. Julie was able to exchange a couple of glances with Greg, her green eyes bright, and hopeful.

There was more than hope in their enthusiastic departure and Julie had time to whisper that they wanted to go back to the office with her, which was a very positive sign indeed. Yet as she drove away Greg felt a pang that there had been little time for any follow up to the previous evening.

Greg went back to do some more writing, and it was at four thirty that his phone rang.

Julie's afternoon with the couple had ended up amazingly satisfying. The lady had been so enthusiastic the whole time, while her husband only nodded his head whenever he was asked a question.

"Whatever she wants," he had said at one point, but did try a little haggling on the price. By four fifteen the whole thing was ready to package and Julie couldn't wait to phone Greg.

His deep brown voice coming down the line filled her with further excitement, and when she told him that the sale was fixed she delighted in the way his voice rose a pitch as he said, "Julie, you are a wonder. Will you let me take you out for a special celebratory dinner tomorrow night?"

Just a little taken aback by his enthusiasm she could only stammer, "Oh, honestly? Where--?"

"How about Calluccio's?"

"But that's—"

"The best---for the best." And Julie thrilled at the fervour in his voice.

Overwhelmed and just a little dizzy, she quickly she agreed to be having him pick her up by taxi, since their might be a little wine drinking.

"There's only one problem," he said solemnly.

There's always something, Julie feared. "Which is?"

"I don't know your address," he chuckled.

And laughing with the relief of that, Julie told him and they agreed on a seven thirty pickup.

As she was putting down the phone, her boss Victor strolled by, and his eyes widened as he looked at her. "You have the look of the cat that got the cream."

"We've sold the Martin place."

Victor tapped her on the shoulder as he expressed his delight. "Is Mr Martin pleased with you?" The old eyes were teasing.

"He wants to take me to dinner tomorrow night."

Those wicked eyes looked at her seriously, "You refused, of course?"

"At Calluccio's."

"Calluccio's. Wow!" Victor made an impressed movement of his mouth before he turned away and she heard his rough singing tones, "And find yourself somebody to love."

Had he been right all those weeks ago?

In his navy blazer and blue shirt, Greg sat in the back of the taxi wondering how Julie would look. When the taxi stopped at her front door, she appeared immediately as though she had been poised like a greyhound at the traps.

It was a fine warm evening, and Greg was struck by the way her tawny hair curled at her shoulder, and by the lovely smile on her face. She wore a voluminous shawl over what looked like a Prussian blue dress he could just make out above her knees. 

Julie looked so stunning that, as she climbed into the back seat beside him, he longed to reach out and take her in his arms. He did find the breath to say, "You look so elegant." That sounded like a very guarded compliment.

During the short journey to the restaurant she began giving him details of the sale, and that continued for a while after they arrived at the elaborate establishment that was Colliccio's, the most renowned eating place for miles around. All sparkling chandeliers, waist-coated waiters, gentle music, and glorious food, it had earned a lofty reputation.

One of the earliest thrills for Greg was the moment that Julie slipped off her shawl and he almost gasped out loud at the wonder that appeared before him. The silken blue dress might have been poured over her it so emphasised her curvaceous figure. Two thin straps held it up to reveal the delectable curve of her shoulders.

Once seated he could not resist telling her just how much she brightened the room. Did that bring some colour to her cheeks as she thanked him and, in return, commented on how smart he looked.

Together they chose tiger prawn starters, and agreed on a shared boeuf bourguignon main course. A bottle of Chablis was at Julie's request, as she completed the talk about the afternoon's deal. 

"One million six hundred and fifty thousand, the offered. That all right?"

Greg had no problem with that, and he praised her for her efforts. That led to another piece of good news when she told him about a property on the coast that had just come on the market, which, she thought met much of his criteria, and which they could view on the following day.

For Greg the evening seemed to fly by. Being able to look at her across the table, with his eyes drifting just occasionally, to the subtle neckline of her dress, where there was the discrete suggestion of smooth slopes, disappearing under her dress, but clearly rising under the fabric. Was she wearing a bra? There was just the suggestion of nipple pushing at the silk. He had to force his eyes to look up into her smiling face.

They talked and laughed as the evening wore on. At one point he must have said something that pleased her for she reached across the table to touch his hand. That sent tingles up his arm.

The wine was well down, and Greg could tell that they were both fairly high. He hoped that it was more to do with being in each other's company than the effects of the wine alone. But it had to be the wine that made him talk so openly about his time with Tania. Julie had made some comment about how cruel her husband had been, and that had triggered something inside Greg.

Guardedly he spoke of her physical intensity, but he lingered over that final night and how he was sure it had been prearranged. He went as far as telling her that he knew she was being bedded by Sanchelle when he was thrown off the yacht.

"And you haven't seen her since?" Greg wallowed in the sympathetic look in those green eyes.

"Not a sight," Greg told her, and went on to tell her about seeing Sanchelle's picture in the newspaper with his latest conquest.

"So you don't know where she is?"

Greg shrugged, "No idea. She's somewhere in the south of France."

"What will she be doing?"

"I can only guess----selling her body probably."

"You think she would do that?"

"If she has, I know one thing for certain."

"What's that?"

"The price will be high, high, high," he chuckled, and it was wonderful to hear her laugh ringing out.

With the taxi booked for eleven fifteen, Greg paid up and they moved out into a warm evening to wait for it. Julie carried her shawl over her arm, and the moonlight appeared to kiss her shoulders as they settled on a bench seat out on the patio.

Greg half turned towards her, and whispered, "I have had a wonderful evening in your company."

Julie turned to him as she replied, "It has been so good for me."

Her eyes were on his, her lips were slightly parted, and Greg was pretty sure that a gentle kiss would be in order. Carefully he placed his lips against Julie's.

For Julie it had been like a dream, and Greg had been so open in telling her about the terrible treatment he'd had from his relationship with Tania. But she couldn't help wondering just how much had that woman's sexual know-how rubbed off on Greg. Sitting at the table, thinking those thoughts, she had been a little surprised at herself moistening down there.

Out in the calm evening, as she saw Greg's lips move towards her own she was full of desperate eagerness. As their lips came together she sensed that he was being deliberately gentle, as he had been in everything so far. But whether it was the wine, or her own deprived libido, she could not stop herself pressing close and meshing her own lips more forcefully on his.

Delightedly she felt his immediate response and the kiss became quite wild with a quick flutter of touching tongues. Julie was wondering what would happen next, when the taxi arrived.

The kiss broken, Greg smiled at her, a little shyly, was it? But very quickly they were couched in the back seat of the cab, and Julie found herself quickly enveloped in his arms, and their kisses were even more passionate, moistly warm with their tongues tangling and searching. Julie ran her hands over his chest, and thrilled to Greg's hands rubbing over her back and shoulders, sending blood coursing faster through her veins. 

They were like that for a long time it seemed. But Julie still had the feeling that Greg was holding back, when she longed to be touched more deeply. His right hand was against her side just under her armpit, and, with a sense of devilment which she blamed on the wine she twisted her body so that his hand slid easily onto her silk clad left breast.

Instantly his hand became active, sending charges of electricity down into her lower regions, as he smoothed and caressed over her. Julie quickly realised that he had guessed she wasn't wearing a bra, as his fingers began squeezing her nipple lighting tiny fires deep down inside her. The longing to drag his hand down to her thighs warned her that it had to be the wine. She had never been this avid. Or could it possibly be the sheer abandon Greg promoted in her?

That was the moment that Greg broke the kiss and placed his lips close to her ear, and she heard what she later considered magic words. "Julie, Julie, I have though about this, longed for this from the moment I first saw you. Could you not tell by the way I looked at you?"

With a shrug and a little giggle she told him, "I thought it was simply lust. You know like that guy who pretended to be viewing?"

"Oh, no, in my case you were wrong. Not lust---adoration."

Julie's heart was pounding inside her and she was sure it was sending out signals to every part of her body. She reached out for his hand to place it on her thigh, and that was the moment that the cab driver called, "Twenty One, Thursby Avenue."

Julie pulled back and looked into Greg's face, "I would, now, if you demanded. But I want to know it's not the effect of the wine. I want it to be perfect, if it's going to happen between us."

If Greg was disappointed, it didn't show, as he leaned forward to give her a last tender kiss. Regretfully, Julie opened the cab door saying, "Thank you, Greg. Tomorrow, one thirty at our offices." She hurried up her drive without looking back.

Greg slept fitfully that night. He was sure the door was near to being fully open. There had been so much promise during and after their evening meal. Their clinch in the taxi had been unbelievable, with him being so cautious, and Julie twisting her body so he could fondle her silk covered breast. His belly twitched at the thought of her nipple stiffening under his fingers.

Dressing carefully in sports shirt and thin slacks the next day, he was looking forward, not to seeing a possible new home, but to checking on his standing with Julie. Promptly at one thirty he drove his car into the Manners and Garret car park, and was delighted to see her standing by her own car waiting for him.

He was even more deeply pleased to see that she was not dressed in her usual formal working outfit, but wore a pale lemon front buttoning summer dress that exposed her tanned arms.

Greg greeted her with a cheerful, "Hello." He was a little taken aback as she, without returning his smile, gestured towards the passenger door of her car and said, "Good afternoon, Mr Martin. Good of you to be on time."

He half expected, no, hoped, that she would fall into his arms as soon as they were in her car, but as he leaned towards her she said, without any sign of humour, "This is strictly a business trip, Mr Martin."

What the hell was going on here? Had the previous night had no meaning for her? As she headed the car out onto the road she explained, "The owners of this property, the Pearsons, are away for the next few days but I have the keys. That is why it was necessary for us to go in the one car." Then, without any trace of a smile, she added, "Otherwise you might have got lost."




House for Sale with Extras



I'm lost now, Greg might have replied, stunned by her coolness, when he had been expecting a new warmth. After a brief silence she began telling him about the property they were going to see, and the first shock was when she said it was a bungalow. 

He hadn't wanted a bungalow, but he said nothing, and vaguely heard her enthusiastic description of the three bedroom property.

"I'm told that the spaciousness is amazing," Julie said, without the least sign of dropping her business attitude.

At last Greg caught sight of the sea as they drove north, then at a junction on the left, there was a dead-end sign, and Julie turned onto a narrow lane. After a short drive he had his first sight of the bungalow.

He had to admit, at first glance it was striking. A wide frontage faced inland with an extensive area of grass in front of it. They left the car in the lane and Julie insisted that they walked around the whole building before going inside. Immediately, Greg could see what a fabulous view there would be, but he was still confused by Julie's attitude.

He soon found that Julie had not been wrong about the interior. Every room had so much space. The kitchen was huge with a central table not diminishing the space. Even the room which appeared to be used as an office had floor space in spite of a large desk and a massive bookcase. If he bought the place Greg had little doubt that this would be his office with its terrific view of the sea.

All four sides of the house gave wonderful views through large window, or French doors. At last they arrived back in the wide entrance hall, where Julie stood facing him, almost challengingly. "Well," she asked, her face looking rather severe, "was I wrong?"

He looked into those lovely eyes and said, "Julie, it is marvellous."

Greg was immediately surprised as Julie's coolness immediately dropped away, and she flung her arms around him, "Great, my role as estate agent is now over."

The kiss she delivered was highly charged and Greg clung to her, his relief at her change of mood lifting him. He broke the kiss to ask her, "So the last hour has all been a set-up?"

Her eyes glowed as she said, "Actually, the set-up is not over." Then her face darkened as she said, "Now, I want you to take a lone walk right around the place, every room, every outlook, before you commit to a final decision." 

Just a little uncertain at this instruction, Greg was only too willing to do as Julie asked, even though he was already pretty sure that this was the place for him. He strolled slowly from room to room, taking in the feel of every room. Some of the furnishings were rather old fashioned, but his own furnishing would change that.

He ended up in what was clearly the master bedroom, with its king size bed and roomy en-suite. Leaning his arms on the window sill he gazed out at the vast blueness of the sea beyond a paved area.

"Decision time!"

Julie's voice right at his elbow momentarily startled him, but he didn't shift his gaze from the sea as he asked, "You haven't told me the asking price?"

"Just under one million," her reply was prompt.

"Sounds reasonable," he told her, still staring out to sea."There's only one thing wrong with it."

Her voice had a disappointed note in it as she asked, "What's that?"

Beginning to turn towards her he said, "I could never live here alone."

Her quick smile was dazzling, and Greg noticed that the top two buttons of her dress had been unfastened revealing the subtle foothills of her breasts. Had that happened when they had clinched in the hall? Then her voice, slightly husky, asked, "Could I make a suggestion about that?"

The next second she was clasped in his arms, their lips meshing, their tongues wrestling and Julie's body pressed hard against him. Knowing for certain that those buttons could not have been an accident, Greg eased back to slide one hand into the inviting gap, closing on the exquisite round firmness of her breast, that incredible smoothness of skin, his fingers flicking at the nipple, and it was pure delight to hear Julie's moan of pleasure.

With his other hand he worked quickly at the rest of the buttons, and experienced the thrill of Julie's fingers working at his shirt. He reached the end first and pushed the dress away from her shoulders. Julie gave a little wriggle to help it on its way to the floor. There was no bra, and Greg, without breaking the kiss, felt her tremble as his hands, stroked over her shoulders and down over taut breasts, where the nipples were already stiffening. 

Julie felt that she was heading for the heaven she had been hoping for. Greg's hands on her body had already brought the moistness to her eager crease, just as it had on the previous evening. That had been when, after reluctantly breaking away from him, she had thought out how she wanted this day to go. 

Her fake business-like approach, and her eventual surrender were all part of it. The two unfastened buttons had been quite deliberate while he was doing his solo tour. Had she ever behaved in this wanton way in her whole life? It was goodbye man-hater.

Now she pushed Greg's shirt from his shoulders, and did a copy cat trailing of her fingers over his shoulders and down where a thin trail of dark hair lay between his nipples. Would her fingers on his nipples have the devastating effect his were having on hers? Her blood felt to be filled with electric sparks that coursed down to her lower body. His little grunt signalled that there had been reaction from her stroking.

Amazingly she had been hoping for gentility, yet now her own long deprived libido was craving some kind of wilder action. Greg's hands were moving over her skin, sliding under her panties, and easing them down. Desperate to keep pace, she unbuckled his belt and tugged at his pants which dropped away immediately to reveal bulging, blue boxer shorts. Julie pushed at the waistband and felt it snag on that bulge. Pulling the waistband wider, she lost her hold on his boxers as they fell away.

She could sense her panties at her knees, and simultaneously, along with Greg, she performed a wriggling dance to be rid of them. They were together, naked.

That was the moment that Greg broke the kiss, took her hands and leaned back so that they could each view the other's body.

"Just like in your book," she murmured, remembering that it was that very book that had begun to change her mind about Greg.

"It's going to be better than the book," Greg told her, as his eyes were like a special caress passing over her skin. She saw how they lingered for a moment on her bush, and she would have bet that he could have no idea what lay in wait for him behind that delicate shrub of hair.

Her own eyes wandered down over his muscular chest, over his admirably flat belly to the solid rigidity of his penis bursting from a surround of black hair. She made no size comparisons as she gazed at the way it pointed at her, the purple head showing its little slit of an eye. God, please let the penetration that is coming be comforting as well as exciting. It had been so long.

Greg whispered, as he led her towards the bed, "You are so beautiful. Do I really deserve this favour?"

"Yes, I don't do this for all my clients, you know," she said with a lightness that surprised Greg. "Think the Pearson's mind us defiling their bed?" 

With his hands on her shoulders Greg carefully eased Julie back onto the bed as he said, "We're not going to defile it, we're going to give it an experience it has probably never had before."

Julie had wriggled her body further over the duvet, and holding up her arms to him she sighed, "Sounds promising."

Moving over her, Greg slid one arm behind her head, and Julie half turned to hold her body close to him. They kissed with initial restraint but as his hand moved from her cheek, to cover her breast, Julie's tongue darted into his mouth, and set sparklers bursting around his inner cheeks. Greg drew in a deep breath of satisfaction through his nose, catching the full lavender aroma of her perfume as he did so. This lady was set to become the centre of his life, but at that moment she was the focus of his desire.

Now he had to proceed with the caution she was probably expecting having already referred to the way it had been in his book. Well, he could make it like that, couldn't he? Fingers, mouth and tongue, they would be his tools to achieve his ultimate aim to give Julie the best climax he could. 

Accordingly, he broke their kiss, and his lips moved lovingly over her neck, her shoulders and his protruding tongue took up the caresses as his mouth moved over her breasts. Her little yelp of pleasure was a rewarding start.

Julie's body was already so alert that when Greg's lips and tongue began working at her breasts she could not contain the vocalisation of her pleasure. His controlled sucking of her nipples sent urgent messages into her deeper parts, and she knew her thighs had parted, wanting him, needing him. Nothing in her memory recognised these reactions.

Madly, his delicate tonguing of her nipples, did not seem enough. Some weird, long dead desire wanted to feel his teeth gently gnawing there. Where had all these urges sprung from? God, now, as his mouth continued to work on her breasts, his free hand had slid down and was slowly, very slowly, circling over her belly. The movement was so subtle, but so obvious, as each stroke widened she knew he would soon have his fingers in her bush.

Yes, yes, she wanted that, but she was becoming so desperate for more. Was she imagining it? Or were her vaginal walls actually pulsing, eager for invasion? Briefly Greg's fingers ploughed over her lower hair, before continuing their circling. Then they came back and rustled about in her bush, as though searching for something. The sensations he was creating inside her were worrying. If he moved further down into her crevice she would be gone.

Suddenly she realised how selfish she was being. Her hands had stroked his shoulders, his back and chest. How was it, with her vaginal passage feeling as though it was crying out for something it had never had, how was it that she had not tried to touch his erect penis, especially since she had been so aware of it pressing against her thigh?

She shivered as Greg's hand slid lower from her bush, but moved beyond her soaking crease to stroke with such affection along her inner thigh. His tongue continued to coax her nipples to maximum firmness, as she reached down and touched the hot head of his erection. Greg shuffled his body slightly to enable her to grip his hardness firmly. 

For a brief moment, his lips came off her nipples as he groaned, "Oh, yes, Julie, lovely." His hips gave a little jerk so that his solid member moved within her grasp, as though her hand was the target of his need. Briefly she recalled doing this for a lusty young man when they were eighteen. She remembered his yelps as his stuff had shot across the carpet they'd been lying on. 

Wanting all his power inside her, and very soon, she was careful about what she did with her hand. Greg's stroking of her thigh had moved higher and higher until the moment came when she knew his fingers had fluttered into the wetness that abounded in her cleft. As he lingered there and began to move from back to front, Julie sensed a great rising of heat, an unbearable heaving inside her.

The moment that his finger touched on her clitoris was just too much. Her whole body wanted all of him inside her. She lay back flat but pulled his iron hard penis over her parting thighs.

"Oh, please, Greg, get into me. Part me, split me---"

God, she was starting to babble as Greg quickly took the hint and rolled between her thighs, where she was able to place his penis near where she wanted it.

After his time with Tania, Greg had a pretty good idea about how long he could hold on. What he had wanted all along was the steady build up to this moment of entry, but already her pulling on his erection had pushed him ahead of schedule. If Julie's need was immediate, then that was how it would be, but he would make this penetration slow, easy but forceful enough to give her the biggest possible lift.

Glancing up he could see that her face, when her head wasn't moving from side to side, was open mouthed, her eyes looking glazed. Greg reached down to where her trembling hand was pointing his penis head slightly off course. He took over and placed the head into the wetness of her opening. Then very gently he poked it just one inch into her cavity.

Her instant moan and jerk told him that she was not far away from her climax. Her gasping breaths had already signalled that. Another push, another moan, more high-pitched this time. Greg began a slow steady further intrusion but without warning Julie heaved her hips upwards, a move that thrust his erection to strike at her very core.

Greg's so hard penis making its initial entry into her was an exquisite moment, but instantly she knew she had to have it all, up her and hard. Damn the gentility mentioned in his book, she had never felt like this, so demanding, so needing this fulfilment. 

There came another small but not urgent push from Greg. But she wanted urgency, she wanted to feel him hammering into her. So when his next impulse came she could take no more of this caution. Every fibre of her body screamed for release, and the impulsive heaving of her own hips was just amazing, as she felt Greg's penis head strike against . what?her cervix? Whatever, it was magical. His penis filled her, feeling huge inside her.

It began to withdraw. No, she wanted to scream, but then Greg thrust instantly. Julie knew her whole body was teetering on the edge of something. She knew she couldn't hold her head still, as again her hips rose to receive the blessing of this lovely hardness.

And she was aware of fires lighting up inside her lower belly, as more and more she received Greg's increased thrusting. The fires were stoking higher, her body was no longer her own. There was no bed beneath her, there was only Greg's all devouring penis, thrusting, thrusting. At some point, he took a nipple in his mouth and sucked hard.

That was all it needed. The fires flared, her muscles clenched ecstatically against the fullness of his heaving erection. Julie was lost in a place she had never been. It was as though her brain had melted, but as it solidified again, she became aware of the frantic pulsing of Greg's lovely organ as he climaxed. And that was additional pleasure for her.

Yet with her return to some kind of consciousness came a painless agony if that was possible, and as Greg rolled to be alongside her she felt the tears pouring down her cheeks. A uncontrollable sob burst from her lips.

"Julie, you're crying. Have I hurt you?" And the genuine anxiety in his voice was so comforting.

"I'm being stupid," she sobbed. "You were so good for me. So strong."

Greg gave her a squeeze, "I'm not that good. But you got some pleasure?"

She turned her face towards him and he kissed at the tears that hung on her cheeks, "That, I think, is why I'm crying."

"Why?"

"I just can't recall ever having such wonderful feelings."

"It wasn't as tender as I wanted."

Julie gave him a half smile, "That's what I mean. I've never felt so demanding---so urgent for it."

"After you're bad experiences, maybe. Were they so bad?"

And without further bidding Julie was crying again as she blurted out the full story of Mike's forced blow jobs on her.

"The bastard," he said and kissed her with much tenderness.

"With you I'll wash all that filth out of my head,." Julie told him.

"Yes, and we've only just begun." Greg said, swinging his legs from the bed, and pulling her with him. "Come on, we'll take a shower, and I'll show you."

After a quarter of an hour under a warm shower, with Greg's soaped hands sliding easily all over her breasts, her back, and between her legs, Julie began to feel those strange urges back in the pit of her stomach. Running her own hands over his body, was stimulating, especially as she soaped his flaccid penis, feeling it rise under her touch. And she realised it was the first time she had ever stroked a limp penis.

When they had towelled each other dry, Greg led her back to the bed, where as she sat on the edge with him standing in front of her, she indicated his risen penis and asked, "I'd like to do something special for you." Opening her mouth she had leaned forward as though to take him in.

Playfully, Greg pushed her back on the bed muttering, "There are too many bad memories for you in that activity. Sometime we'll get around to it."

Stilling her protests he lay over her, kissed her hair, her eyes and her lips, all with the extreme gentility he had promised first time. He slid slowly down the bed to kiss her breasts, very aware of her instant intake of breath. Briefly her fingers tickled at his hardness, but then he slid further down the bed so that he was out of reach, his face pressing into her belly, while his fingers stroked along her already lubricated labia.

"What are you doing to me?" she sighed.

"Learning about you," he replied, wriggling his fingers into her moist folds. "I need to know what gives you the greatest pleasure so I can go on applying that."

"You give me the greatest pleasoooh."

Her broken sentence was the result of Greg's finger touching her clitoris, which was already beginning to rise under his encouragement,

Julie's breath was delightfully short as she moaned, "You're spoiling me."

"No, you're spoiling me by just being on this bed with me." And he moved his lips down to take over from where his fingers were on her clitoris, and his tongue took up the action.

"Oh, God, Greg—you'll make me---oh—"

Greg trailed his fingers back to finger her royal entrance, tracing around it before poking one finger deep into her. He knew where he had learned this one, but had to give Julie the maximum he could. "All right?" he asked, moving his tongue briefly from her clitoris.

"Stop and I'll kill you," she hissed. "See, you're making me selfish."

"If you are selfish for the things I do to you, then that is all I could ask for." Greg said fervently.

Julie was in raptures, and just a little uncertain how this was going to end. She was sure that his tongue would bring her to climax and now---Oh, God—he had introduced a second finger inside her. Was his penis too tired? 

Her brain was fizzing with wondrous images as Greg's fingers and tongue continued their gratifying explorations of her most sensitive regions. As his fingers twitched inside her vagina, she knew that that area was demanding something deeper , something more compelling. She knew there was only one way for that to happen, but at that moment he withdrew one of his fingers and allowed it to slide further back.

Further back? Where was it going? The next instant she felt his finger tip run around the tight ring of her anus. That was all it took. 

She heard her own voice squealing, "Greg! Greg! Oh, Greg!"

His reaction was instant, he was up, over her, and his rigid penis was into her right up to the hilt, exactly what she so desperately wanted. His thrusts were more forceful, faster and maybe even more desperate than she was. His lips found her mouth and they kissed frantically, as Julie lost herself in the wonder of her whole body exploding. Yet she was very aware of that mad pulsing of Greg's erect rod, signalling his spurting inside her as his thrusts went on and on. He was gripping her shoulders as he pushed into her one last time, moaning loudly.

Julie could almost feel them come down together, first mentally, then physically.

After a while, Greg whispered, "Julie, Julie, that is as great as I've ever known it"

Was he just being kind? But she said, "You did all the work. But I'll get you back."




House for Sale with Extras



They lay quietly for a while, stroking each other lovingly, until Greg sighed, "This is the place for me."

"Excuse me, don't you mean 'for --"

"Us." Greg laughingly added for her, and the kissing started again.