1 comments/ 7303 views/ 3 favorites The Sweet Taste of Innocence Ch. 01 By: Makitsu_Trinity Michael Sanchez smiled devilishly at the sexy young brunette sitting across the table from him. Her deep sapphire eyes and mousy hair shone under the glow of the candles, and there was a small blush in her cheeks as she pushed a bite of mashed potato around her plate nervously. Her white dress stood out bright as snow against her tan skin, with those dark curls cascading down her shoulders, mixing hot and cold in such a sensuous manner. Michael was forced to shift uncomfortably in his seat. The girl obviously noticed and he shrugged then flashed another smile, as if challenging her to ask. Her eyes flicked quickly back to her plate and the blush darkened. Bringing up a mental picture of her profile in his mind, Michael picked out the pieces of their conversations before she had come here. She loved a man who was forceful, knew what he wanted, and demanded it of her. Her greatest fantasy was to pleasure herself and a partner in public; a wish he intended to grant tonight. Of course, the lounge where they were taking their meal was a private one for his own use. The only other people were the waiters and waitresses, and a few of his other servants planted about to give the feeling of a real restaurant. He leaned forward to whisper to his date, "How are you enjoying yourself my dear?" She nodded slowly and his upper lip twitched. "Are you alright, Darling?" The girl squirmed a little, her delicious-looking breasts shifting, barely contained in the dramatic sweeping drop of her neckline. She was obviously not wearing a bra, at his request, as her nipples were beginning to harden and poke through the flimsy material. He wondered if she had followed his other orders and rested his hand on her knee under the table. "Is my sexy little slut having problems?" He asked, his voice little more than a husky growl. The girl blushed, her gaze wandering nervously about the room. Michael smiled more, knowing she had no idea that the people there were his own personal staff. She nodded slowly, and dropped her gaze. He could see the resignation in her stance, and knew she would fall perfectly into the role they had conjured up for her for the night. "M-Master," she whimpered quietly, her hands sliding between her thighs as she clenched them together. "P-please..." "Please what?" Michael coaxed, using his thumb to massage her knee, relaxing her legs again. As she released them, he slid his hand up her inner thigh and to her moist pussy, using his whole hand to rub over her outer lips. A small moan escaped her lips and she grabbed his wrist, making him stop. "Let me do it, please?" she begged, her tone hoarse and needy. He pulled back his hand, an amused glint in his eyes as he could hear her slip her fingers against her wet cunt. The hardness of his cock pressed uncomfortably against his dress pants. This girl, in all her innocence, was so erotic, it was almost more than he could manage. "Only if you lift your skirt so I can watch." Horror flashed across her face for a moment, but she did as she was told, beginning to lift the hem of her dress and massaging her clit slowly, her breathing becoming more shallow and heated. He moved his chair around the table a little and pulled hers out so the whole dining room would obviously be able to see what was happening. "Higher," he encouraged her. "B-but people are watching," she protested. "And...?" he argued. Her scent rose to greet him with such tantalizing warmth. He almost lost it, but regained his composure just in time to see her reluctantly lift her skirt up over her round, smooth ass, and reveal her pussy fully. It glistened and shone in the glow of the low lights as she rubbed it, moaning at the sensation she was creating for herself. He couldn't help but to reach out and start rubbing it again, feeling his fingers glide through her wetness as he rubbed her clit. "Good girl." She moaned loudly, closing her eyes in pleasure. He smiled, watching her clit swell as he rubbed it, slipping a finger inside, feeling how tight her young pussy was. Gently, he began moving it in and out, hooking it slightly to tease her G-spot. She squirmed slowly in delight, her full lips panting heavily. Slowly, keeping his finger inside her, he slid her over and into his lap. She laid her head back against his shoulder, a move that showed him just how much she enjoyed the feelings. Smiling evilly, He spread her lips wide to show off her glistening pussy to the members of his home. In this way, he meant to drive home the fact that he was head of this house; that he was top dog; alpha wolf. The girl just lolled there, completely relaxed in his grasp. Still fingering with one hand, Michael used his free hand to pull her neckline down, letting her breasts pop out, leaving her exposed to the whole dining room. The scent of sex rose about them like steam, and he could hear the rustling of restlessness among his household. He fondled her breast in one hand and continued to finger her, massaging her clit with his thumb. "Oh, Master," she exclaimed. "I'm going to cum." He slowed his motion, testing her resolve a little before nodding. "Cum, my slave." At those words, it was as if a button had been pressed and the girl came, her juice flowing out over his fingers, lap and the floor as she tried to hold in a scream. He smiled as she released, loving the tension of her climaxing pussy as he pulled his fingers out of her depths. As she came down from her heaven, panting hard and limp, he reached beneath her to undo his dress pants. Her eyes widened as he murmured, "Of course we aren't done yet." Eagerly, his cock sprang out, rubbing against her soaking pussy, teasing and tantalizing against her fiery flesh. She moaned loudly against him and squirmed, positioning herself perfectly over him. He smiled, just rubbing the tip over her skin, testing her. "Please," she begged in a breathless whisper. "Please what?" he asked, smirking as he rubbed a little harder, his thumb finding her clit again. Her voice dropped a little. "Please put it in me." He smiled and replied, "I can't hear you." She raised her voice a little to mutter, "Please, enter me." He got close to her ear and smiled cruelly as he whispered, "They can't hear you." The girl bit her lip and hesitated, and he froze, waiting for her to make up her mind. To his surprise, she actually mustered up the strength and said loud enough for the whole room to hear, "Please, Master, enter my pussy with your thick, long cock." He nibbled her neck in approval, enticing a moan from her before sliding in hard and deep, making her gasp as he felt her stretch around him and swallow his length. Slowly, he began pulling out, lifting her slowly so the tip was barely inserted, before releasing her hips and letting her slide back down. He continued this slow teasing motion for a good ten minutes, slowing even more every time the girl seemed close to climax. Pretty quickly, Michael felt bored with this little game and stood, the girl still impaled on his throbbing cock. He moved so she was pressed securely against the table and started moving again, thrusting in and out of her tight pussy, going a little harder with each stroke. Each thrust brought on a stronger wave of passion and heat as he began to pick up the pace. Pretty soon, the glasses and dishes on the table clinked in protest to the mind-blowing exhibition being performed against their table. Michael grunted with effort and the girl's moans and border-line screams reverberated through the room as she was pounded mercilessly. Just when it seemed the place would explode with sexual tension, Michael roared in satisfaction, completing his act with the force and possession of the true Master he was. For a moment, a hush fell over the dining room as the young woman shuddered beneath him. Slowly, teasing her with his hesitation, he pulled out of her body and moved from behind her, quickly pulling up her chair to catch her as she fell back in exhaustion. It didn't take long for the previous chatter to murmur through the room again. Only the occasional glance between the two kept stoked the fire that had just erupted between them. Still, as usual, Michael found that after a while, it was hard to maintain eye contact with a woman he had no interest in ever seeing again. Eventually, he rose, without looking at her, and turned to leave, muttering that a room was available to her should she decide to stay overnight. He thanked her for a fine evening and left without another word, his frame stiff, and his aura cold. As with every encounter before, this was just business, and for Michael Sanchez, pleasure would always be just business. -------------------------------------------------- Emma let out a tired sigh, blowing her blonde bangs out of her face and back off to the side where they belonged. It had been a long night, and she finally remembered why she had stopped going out dancing with her girlfriends. Her head spun and buzzed a little from one too many drinks as the girls pushed into the arms of various strangers. To be honest, Emma was content to laze about her studio apartment and read about relationships without the complicated twists and turns of actually having one of her own. Plus, her friends' conventional methods of "match-making" were, put bluntly, slutty to an extreme. Passing the full length mirror in her entry way, Emma glanced into her reflection. Thick eyeliner was smudging from the sweat of gyrating to rhythm-less music and her lipstick was smudged from a near make-out miss with one of her final suitors. Her red tank top was skewed from falling asleep in the back of the cab on the way home and her black tiered skirt was crumpled. She had taken off her strappy heels at the door, cursing them, wondering how she had managed to dance in such death-traps. Walking into the main living area, she dropped the shoes and kicked them into a corner, heading towards the kitchenette. With a huff, she tore off the tank top and reached back to unzip her skirt before opening the fridge to grab a water bottle. Unscrewing the top, she guzzled about half the bottle before shimmying out of the skirt and heading to the couch, where her latest novel lay on an end table. Switching on a lamp on the same table, she opened to her bookmark and began reading. It didn't take long for Emma to start feeling a bit feverish and she smiled, loving the tingling that always went through her body when she read the powerfully erotic words on the page. She slowly re-read a section, her body sparking gently. Without consciously thinking about it, her fingers roamed down her body, twirling a sensitive nipple between her delicate fingers. Slowly, she reached her free hand behind her, still holding the book open, though she wasn't really reading it at this point, and unclasped her lacy red bra. Letting it fall to the floor, she set her book, open and face-down on the table beside her and began playing with the nipple again. As if by impulse, her other hand moved down to rub her pussy through her red panties. She gasped as her fingers found her clit and her other hand tugged gently at the erect, pulsing nipple. Emma breathed heavily, her fingers twirling about her swollen clit. Finally, she relinquished her hold on her nipple to slide the hand down and slip a finger into her moist center. Sparks erupted from her clit as she massaged it and as if trying to keep time with the sensations, she began sliding her finger in and out. The pleasure grew and she couldn't help a moan that slipped between her lips as she panted with lust. With a whimper that bordered on a groan, her back arched and climax washed over her in subtle, sweet waves of pure relief. After a while, Emma felt herself growing drowsy, the events of the evening catching up with her. Stretching, she smiled and purred quietly in satisfaction, standing to pull her bed out of the couch. Turning out the light, she fell into the mattress and it didn't take long for her to close her eyes and be deep in sleep. The Sweet Taste of Innocence Ch. 02 Sun shone through the blinds, falling on Emma's sleeping form, and piercing the comforting darkness behind her eye-lids. Rolling over, she groaned loudly, shoving the covers back and pushing her body into an upright position. She sat there for a moment, adjusting to the light before rising and walking over to the window to raise the blinds. She stood there for a moment, in nothing but her underwear, watching the city wake up with her. She smiled brightly, breathing out a quiet "Good morning" to her hometown. Turning away from the city-scape, she pressed a button on her coffee maker and commenced the morning's ritual. Thirty minutes later, she was dressed sharply in a dark skirt-suit, black folder under one arm, portable coffee mug in the other. Her golden mane was pulled into a tight twist, held to the back of her head by a hefty jaw clip that still strained against the thick locks. Her make-up was light, a drastic comparison to the heavy mask she'd worn the night before. Pausing in front of the hall mirror, she breathed a sigh of relief at how normal she looked, not even a hint of the monster she'd become the night before showing through her perfectly parted hair and glossy lips. Her one-inch heels clicked smartly across the floor as she rushed out, almost forgetting to lock her door behind her, before heading down and out onto the street. The morning air brushed past carrying with it the scents of the city. Emma breathed deeply, inhaling the scent of smog, rotting garbage, and passing car fumes. She smiled shaking her head, knowing she killed brain cells every time she did that, but not caring. She hailed a cab and climbed in the first one that pulled up, giving directions to her editor's office. The cab driver glanced back in his rear-view mirror, a smirk toying the corners of his mouth as he noted how high Emma's skirt rode when she sat in his back seat. Noticing his eager look, Emma offered a slow, languid smile in return, crossing her legs a little, which hiked the skirt a little higher and almost offered the driver a glimpse of her purple thong. "You got a big day ahead of you, Miss?" the driver asked, trying to keep his eyes on the road rather than letting them wander to the image in his rear-view. Emma smiled and tapped her folder to straighten her papers. "Oh, yes," she said, not offering no further explanation. She knew his type would not want the long-drawn out description. A mere sample kept them interested. She peered up slowly, keeping her observations discreet as she saw the lust flare in his eyes for the busty, high-society woman in his backseat. "Well, you keep them corporate heads spinning," he scoffed, pulling over to let her off. Emma only half heard him, as her mind was already reeling with what his back story might be and what kind of woman he'd be interested in. She'd have to play with the idea of a cab driver taking advantage of an upper-class business woman. As a result, she did not respond to his last comment, but simply threw her fare into the front seat and stepped out, rushing up the steps to the front door of the publishing building. Emma smiled softly to herself as she walked into the lobby, right past the new, young receptionist, and onto the first elevator, selecting the twelfth floor. She flipped through the last few pages of her manuscript, hoping she had made the correct adjustments to it before handing it back to her editor. She was just reading the last paragraph, feeling her usual heat rising at the suggestive words, when the elevator doors opened and admitted a young gentleman. Emma knew her face was flushed and she quickly buried her nose in her paperwork, peering over the edge of it to study the man. He was well-dressed in a black suit with a flashy, red tie and slicked back hair. His stature was firm and straight, suggesting he was man that was used to being in charge. She couldn't help but feel an attraction to this stranger. His aura alone left her reeling with lust in ways she never had thought imaginable. He glanced back at her over his shoulder, and slipped her a smile. She smiled back, playing the shy card as the bell dinged and the doors opened onto her floor. She hesitated for a moment and he shifted a brow ever so slightly, a gesture that tickled her feminine desires and teased her need. She looked down at her folder, pretending to be re-arranging something. "Excuse me, Miss," he said, his voice flowing over his masculine lips like melted chocolate, "Isn't this your floor?" Emma cursed inwardly and was tempted to just let the doors close so she could stay in such close proximity to such a delicious looking stranger, but she knew she was already a little late on her deadline. Sadly, this deadline could not be pushed back any further, even for such a delectable specimen such as this. As if suddenly gaining confidence, she brushed right by him with an air of superiority, feeling his eyes on her back as she sashayed down the hall, taking a left into the office of her editor, Charles Morrison. Looking up abruptly from his desk, Charles eyed her with a skeptical air. "Darling, you look rather exasperated," he commented, rising from behind his desk and coming around to greet her. "Have you been up all night again?" "No, no, no," Emma said, brushing away his concerns with a wave of her hand, "Just a productive morning of character analysis. I have the manuscript here." She dropped the folder onto his desk with a dull, satisfying thud. The ball was finally out of her court. She always couldn't help breathing a silent sigh of relief while also sucking in a panicked breath as she watched her work pass from her hands into the hands of one not yet familiar with it. Charles eagerly nabbed the folder and flicked it open, reading the bold title aloud; "Sisters in Sin". His eyes lit up. "Another taboo tale; or are we just going for suggestive imagery here? Perhaps some figurative language?" He began flipping through the pages as Emma took a seat and smiled coyly. "You could say that," she offered, though more of an explanation she would not give. "I wouldn't want to spoil a good story before you get the chance to read it. I am not one to give away an ending, much less the bulk of a thrilling plot." Creasing his brow in mock frustration, Charles paused, lowering the pages. "You do know how to tease, Emma Perry," he scolded. "No wonder you don't have a boyfriend. They can't stand being mocked and pushed around." Emma flashed a bright smile and lounged back in her chair, crossing one leg over the other so her skirt rose again. "No, Charles. The reason I do not have a boyfriend is because all the men that are supposedly within my reach hold no interest for me. They are boring and focused on only one thing. I want a man willing to fight for something more than sex. I want someone who knows how to step up into the role he was born into as the dominant species. I may be hard-headed, but you know as well as I that there is nothing more seductive than a man who will not back down." Charles couldn't meet her gaze as he blushed a little, thinking about his newest boyfriend who he'd left sleeping in his apartment that morning. He nodded slowly, remembering how firm the new man had been. Emma smirked, knowing she had hit a nerve and driven her point home. She rose slowly. "Take care, Charles. You and your new friend enjoy the latest from my office." She winked and blew him a kiss as she walked out. -------------------------------------------------- Michael couldn't help the fact that he had watched the young woman leave the elevator. He must have seemed like a creep, eyeing her like that, but God, she was so tempting. That tight ass enveloped in such a form-fitting skirt, accented by the little tailored jacket; the way she swayed when she walked; perfect form and rhythm. She was a woman who had a lot of fight in her. The idea of wrestling that fight out of her, and making her submit to his will had Michael very much aroused by the time he stepped out of the elevator. He tried to adjust himself before stepping out, but it was a lost cause and he paraded into the ante-room of his office where his secretary waited for him. "Good morning, Mr. Sanchez," she greeted him brightly. Per his request, she had begun dressing in tight, short skirts and revealing blouses. However, that morning, there was something about her that, in his moment of lust after the stranger, left him disgusted. He blew right past her without even noticing her large breasts pressing the black bra against flimsy, white material. He entered his office and slammed the door shut, beginning a raging pacing across the room and back again. Obviously this woman was in affiliation with one of the small businesses that rented space in the building. He thought hard about the floor plans, noting she had gotten off on the twelfth floor. 'Let's see,' he thought, cursing softly, 'what's on that floor?' Punching a button on his desk, he tried to keep his tone flat as he said, "Stacy, get me the floor plans for the twelfth floor of this building." He was not a man to be kept in the dark. He would find out all he could about this mystery woman or else be driven to lustful madness. -------------------------------------------------- Emma got home relatively early, and dropped a few grocery bags on the counter, along with her coffee mug before taking the time to kick her shoes off and peel the pantyhose from her legs. She smiled, wondering if Charles was cuddled up to the new boy, reading her story yet. She knew he shared her work with whoever happened to be staying with him at the time and while it was against the rules, she really didn't care at all. Any amount of exposure meant that later, that someone might buy the book, and tell others about how great it was, thus expanding her rather small fan base. She sighed flopping down on the couch. No sooner had she closed her eyes for a quick catnap, than her cell phone rang. She peered at the screen, noting Charles' number flashing in bright, rainbow figures. She smiled and answered it brightly, "Already done?" "Oh my GOD," the man's bubbly voice came gushing over the speaker. There was no denying this man's orientation, Emma thought, rolling her eyes as she smiled. "Emma, this has got to be your best work yet. My friend read it after I had finished, and while he said there were minor adjustments to be done, he agrees you are going places, girl. He said he has a brother who owns a major publishing company and would be interested in taking a look at this. He said it may be just a short story, but it has potential beyond the magazine stage. I told him you had longer versions in progress of all your stories, which was more of an assumption, but I am hoping it was closer to the truth rather than farther." Finally noting the pause for breath, Emma cut in, her voice shaky as she slowly let everything sink in before asking, "You mean, I could be a published author, as in novels on pages between hard covers?" Her voice was barely above a whisper as she tried to contain a scream. "As in, scheduled book signings, and my picture on the back cover, and interviews in the magazines rather than a little section to cram a quick orgasm into?" Charles laughed loudly and Emma fell back, still stunned. "That's exactly what I mean girl. All you have to do is let me send the man a sample of your work, finish up your FULL manuscript, and presto, you could get published. My friend, Andrew, has already set up a double date for us next week so you can meet the guy." "Wait," Emma stopped him, finally snapping out of her almost-comatose state, "Did you say 'date'?" The muffled stuttering on the other end was all she needed by way of answer. "Charles, you know I hate dates period, let alone blind dates. What the hell? Do we have to call it a date?" "It's dinner with a lonely rich guy who could make you famous," he countered. "Don't you think you can suffer through one dinner? It's not like he's going to want to take you home or anything." Emma rubbed her temples in frustration. She had a strict policy against mixing business and pleasure, but if it meant getting out there and getting recognized for her talent... She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Alright fine. When and where are we meeting?" "Oh you really are such a dear," Charles exclaimed, then he proceeded to give her the address of a rather high-end restaurant on the other end of town with instructions that she get gussied up and be there at exactly eight p.m. on the dot, lest she lose the biggest chance of her life. After a mushy good night, she hung up and flung herself back into the couch. What was she getting herself into? The Sweet Taste of Innocence Ch. 03 To all my readers: I would like to apologize for taking so long in posting this chapter. Some things came up that resulted in not having internet. I hope this new chapter was worth the wait and I assure you chapter four is well under way. * Michael tried to focus on his work, but the figures in front of him just seemed to melt into one black, blotchy mess. Out of the chaos emerged an image; a perfect replica of the strange woman's face, or at least as perfect as he could remember it. How could he be so entranced by one human being? What was it about this female that seemed so different than the others he had taken? It was enough to drive him half-way to madness. He flung the papers down onto the desk out of frustration. Punching the button on his desk, he spoke into his little speaker. "Stacy, would you come in here a minute?" A moment's silence crackled over the intercom before her voice responded, thick with lust. "Be right there, Mr. Sanchez." He resisted the urge to cringe in disgust at the sound of her overly eager voice. 'What a whore,' he thought as the door creaked open and the afore-mentioned whore walked in. Her steps were on the verge of bouncing, causing her over-sized breasts to bob within the minimal confines of her blouse, tugging at the restraining material. Her hips swayed a little too determinedly in her tight black skirt that barely covered her round ass. Her slick, tan legs crossed with each step, as if she was strutting in as a queen. Michael glared at her over the desk, twirling a pen in his fingers. She came close and sat on the edge of the desk, her skirt coming up, revealing the string of her panties. She drew abstract images with her finger tip on the desk-top as she curled her over-painted lips into a seductive smile and her eyes, half-closed, stared at him. "You rang?" Her voice grated on his ears, but he needed some form of release so he could finish the day's work without incident. He continued glaring at her, letting tension build before his hand suddenly flashed out, jabbing her hip with the sharp tip of his pen. Letting out a little screech of surprise and horror, Stacy jumped off the desk and backed up a bit. She rubbed the offended portion of her body, staring at him in disbelief. "Strip," he commanded in a low voice. She huffed as if insulted, but her eyes changed from offended to a glinting satisfaction as she began unbuttoning her blouse, her breasts all but spilling out of the scrap of fabric she had the nerve to call a bra. This she unclasped at the front and let it fall on top of her blouse. As her breasts flung free of their prison, she reached up, massaging them slowly, her eyes closing as she lifted one unnaturally swollen mound to her lips, running her tongue over the nipple, pulling it into her mouth with a moan as she teased the other with her thumb. Michael growled with impatience and Stacy opened her eyes slowly, smirking as she lifted her skirt just enough to hook the strings of her panties, pulling them off, but making sure to keep her pussy hidden from him. Finally sick of the whore's games, Michael rose, walking slowly toward her for effect. She continued smiling, standing there as if to defy him. Only when his hand flew out, tangling tightly in her hair and yanking on it harshly did the fear finally register in her eyes. However, it was only a brief flicker as he pressed her tight against the desk, burying his face between her monstrous breasts, licking, kissing, and suckling along the sensitive flesh. Without even an attempt at foreplay, he yanked his belt open and let his pants fall a little, his already eager cock jumping up. Stacy reached down, curling her manicured fingers around the stiff member, stroking it gently, her eyes sparking with determination. Michael groaned and quickly swatted her hand away, wrenching her legs open. He plunged into her, covering her mouth at the last minute to muffle her cry of pain. He grunted as she bit his hand, but other than that, paid her no mind as he began thrusting in and out, dragging his cock through her body as if she were nothing more than an item of pleasure, meant to bring him what he needed. It only took him a moment to finish with her and leave her gasping, and on the verge of tears. He re-fastened his pants and looked out the window. While his body's appetite had momentarily been sated, his mind still yearned for that stranger and so, in utter defeat, he muttered to have Stacy close up the office early; he was going home. -------------------------------------------------- Emma looked dejectedly into the mirror as Charles fussed in the background, plucking and rejecting item after item from her closet. She rolled her eyes turning her rolling stool around to face him. He'd been rifling through her wardrobe for the past twenty minutes with no luck and her dresser sat dejectedly in the corner, a rumpled heap of dark hues reflecting her professional personality. Unfortunately, that made it a perfect target for Charles' off-the-wall fashion "advice". "Now where did it go," the muffled voice of the desperate editor came from the closet. Emma tilted her head, furrowing her brow in question. "I know you had it in here. I saw it just last month when we went to that benefit dinner with the editor in chief." That was the advantage and disadvantage to being part of a small company; everybody knew everybody. You didn't do anything without someone hearing about it and spreading it across the entire floor. Emma loved the tight-knit effect of family with the space of a career to keep meddlers out of her life, for the most part. Charles seemed to be the one exception, but it was a distraction she rather appreciated at times. Although, at the moment, as he backed out of her closet, clutching something tightly as if he had found Jason's Golden Fleece, she questioned just what about the man made her feel so close to him. The article he had secured was, indeed, gold, but not nearly as humble as a golden pelt. Charles held up the gown and Emma groaned, remembering the man who had bought it for her; a rather self-adoring upper-class prick who had been the master-mind behind a lot of the flashy dresses and jewelry she had collected and later thrown away. Apparently she had missed a piece. "You can't be serious," she said, half begging him to laugh and throw the dress aside as if he had meant it as a cruel jab. However, he laid it out on the bed, motioning for her to adorn it as he scooted her away from the vanity and began rummaging through her drawers for suitable accessories. Cringing as if the garment would bite her, Emma snatched it loathingly and headed for her bathroom. The fabric slid over her hips like liquid gold and hugged her form as if caressing it. As much as she hated admitting it, she felt down-right sexy as she stood before her full length mirror, turning to see the dipping back that left much of her skin visible. The neckline fell low in a V-neck, exaggerating her cleavage and enhancing the size of her average breasts. The gown tapered down with her torso into her waist and back out into her hips, accentuating her hour-glass figure. Though the gown swished across the floor, there was a long slit that came up the right side to about her mid-thigh, making elegant movement still a possibility rather than a thing of the past. Ducking under her sink for a brief moment, Emma pulled up an old, scarred box. Flipping it open, she pulled out a string of pearls her great grandmother had given her on her sixteenth birthday, and a matching pair of droplet earrings. After fastening all the jewelry into place, she took a deep breath and stepped out of the bathroom into the soft lamplight of her bedroom where Charles' sudden shock was almost palpable. Emma felt heat rush to her cheeks as she did a little pirouette to show off their craftsmanship. Slowly, her friend rose to walk towards her and run a finger over the pearls at her throat. He fingered the earrings just as gently and then let his gaze wander down her figure, taking in every curve, every softened edge. Emma clasped her hands together and lifted them up to rest under her chin, as if hiding her body behind her forearms and fists. "C'mon, Charlie," she said, a nervous laugh spilling over her lips. "You're going to have me convinced you switched teams." Charles shook his head to clear it and looked into her eyes. "You are the kind of woman who just might change a man," he half-joked back. Emma blushed darker and Charles offered his hand to lead her to the vanity to help her with her hair and makeup. Half an hour later, they were rushing out the door to catch a cab and make their date. -------------------------------------------------- The dining room was dazzling, Emma thought as she followed the gentlemen into the room, mentally clinging to Charles' hand, but being forced to ride on the arm of some middle-aged man who smelled like cigar smoke and smoked fish. A nauseating combination, Emma noted, trying desperately not to wrinkle her nose. As they sat, she became even more aware of this man's demeaning personality as he went so far as to order her drink for her. She shot an annoyed look at Charles who simply shrugged subtly and made a slight flipping motion with his thumb as if turning the pages of a book. "So, Miss Perry," the gentleman, Mr. Dodd, said, his nasally voice scraping against her ears, "I have read the sample my brother brought me and I think you really have great potential." Emma took a breath as he jumped right to business, setting aside any need for formalities that she had been dreading. "Yes, sir," she answered, unfolding her napkin and settling it into her lap in one fluid, elegant motion. "The whole basis for the plot is that-" "That is not important," Mr. Dodd snorted, literally waving away her comment with a pudgy hand. "What is important is how well you grasp the attention of your readers; both male and female. The women may be concerned with your petty story line of tragic love, but the men will be reading it for the sex. They will want it to be as raunchy as possible. Without that, you lose half of your reader base, and that, my dear, is not acceptable." Emma stared at him in disbelief. Was he honestly telling her that her writing might be insufficient? She tried not to be indignant as she nodded, chewing the inside of her lip. "So, less love, more lust?" she queried, trying to look like a humble author. She was not ready to take the groveling approach yet, and as such, tried once more to get her word in. "I just like to get a good story line in behind the sex. Most people who take the time to read an erotic novel are not just reading it to know who fucked who. They want-" He again raised his fat hand in dismissal. "Trust me dear, I know what I'm talking about. There is a reason I do this professionally and you are still only a columnist." Raising her brows in utter disgust and inability to absorb what was being said, Emma turned her gaze to Charles, boring into him with absolute hatred. She rose slowly, her knees shaking, but her figure otherwise perfectly composed. Her voice was deadly even, flat, and low as she spoke to the gentlemen. "Please excuse me. I must find a restroom." Charles tried to speak, but Emma rose her hand against it, trying not to lash out at him right then. She saw the defeat in his eyes and knew he knew what was coming later that night. She walked away, her head held high, her body moving in a heated, fluid motion that reflected her anger, but channeled it into a power she needed right then. -------------------------------------------------- Sitting at the bar, Michael scoped out the evening's selection of possible women. He had left his office to go home, but ended up wandering into the business district and by that time, his stomach was rumbling. He had enjoyed his dinner for the most part, and was now sipping a scotch to try and help him think of how to deal with this stranger. A joyful babble hummed across the dining room and the flicker of thousands of candles warmed the atmos-phere as did the two rather large crystal chandeliers that hung from the ceiling. The plush, red carpet softened the sound of every footstep, except that of the heels of women parading around the room. He sighed in defeat as he turned in his seat to stare down into his drink. The bartender, a lovely young lady looking to be in her mid-twenties, kept a close eye on him, her smile never wavering and her hand fast to refill his glass. He smiled at her as she served him yet again, knowing she understood how his type generally worked; the more alcohol in their system, the bigger the tip. In salute to her entrepreneurship and genius manipulation of his kind's bad habits, he raised his glass. She nodded her response and he went back to his hunched over position after downing his drink. The soft click of heels against the bar stool next to his caused him to look over, seeing the perfect ankles wrapped in white leather that formed straps around the pale flesh of the gracefully arched foot. Gold material sashayed around these goddess ankles and he found himself following its cascading tide up the well-toned thighs, to the tiny waist, around the sculpted bust, resting for a moment on a hand which was completely bare save white tips of a French manicure. One hand trembled as it opened a little white clutch, and then snapped it nervously shut again. "An apple martini, please," a shaky voice shot out hoarsely. The voice seemed starkly contrasted to the otherwise sophisticated air of this Grecian princess. Michael raised his gaze to her face. Her golden curls rolled over her shoulders, embracing the exposed portions of her flesh. Her skin glowed naturally, and her deliciously plump lips were a simple dusty rose with a shine of gloss. Her eyes were the same vibrant green of the martini the bartender slid across to her and seemed to snap with impatience and some form of indignation. It took Michael a moment to make the connection, but suddenly, it was there; an image of the woman from the elevator, sitting right next to him, only slightly changed to be better suited to her new environment. He was so startled, he almost didn't realize he was staring, until those stunning green eyes turned on him, the fire in them almost audibly crackling with tension. It was easy to tell she was upset about something and for some reason, he felt he cared. Reaching out, he put his hand over hers and smiled in his usual charming manner. "Tonight's on me," he said, his voice low, sultry, trying to calm and tame the fire in her eyes. It worked a little better than he thought it would as the flame instantly sputtered out, leaving behind a deflated woman who seemed lost in this flashy world of money and power. "Thanks," the girl answered, her voice softening from its earlier harshness as she circled the rim of her yet untouched glass with her fingertip. He watched the motion, his mind wandering shamefully to how else such a gentle touch could be utilized. "I guess I didn't realize that to be moved up in the world would mean renouncing my own name and what I really strive to work for." Michael knew one of the keys to seducing a woman was to try paying her attention, so he looked into her lovely shamrock green eyes again, seeing more depth there than he had ever seen in a woman. This was not some business floozy who took advantage of generous men like himself, knowing that it would only end in an agreement to keep her husband in the dark. This woman, no, this girl, was different. She was nothing more than a child, being caught up and flung around in the corporate world unless she somehow managed to find her footing and put down a firm foundation. From the sounds of it, she was being drug along in a ride that was controlled by men that intended to take this lovely bird of paradise and cage her up, putting her on display for others to see and admire, based on their conditions. Oh, god, what a ravishing display that would be, he thought to himself, his vision getting cloudy as he fought to pay attention to what she said. She had gone into some story of her hobby being stolen and twisted into something for profit. Her lips moved in slow, deliberate motion as she presented her case to an invisible jury, trying to justify keeping her work original and part of her beliefs, but knowing this was her one big shot. "You don't have to defend yourself around me," Michael finally got out, stopping her mid-sentence. She looked up, as if surprised he was still there, much more-so that he was actually listening, or at least as far as she could tell. "I know how these old bastards work. I know, because I have often been on their side, fighting alongside them, but let me be the first to tell you that they will sell out their own kind to the highest bidder, first chance they get. It doesn't matter how valuable an asset the person was before that time." He wasn't sure what made him say these things, except the fact that he spoke truth. It was good to finally have someone from the outside to listen to him. This girl seemed to understand that things were tough all around, not just at the bottom. "Do yourself a favor, kid," Michael said, shocking even himself at the sincerity in his voice, "Stay away from the big guys. Keep doing what you're doing and don't let anyone steal it from you. It's purely you and that is the strongest asset you can have against the beast. Don't give in." The Sweet Taste of Innocence Ch. 04 Emma was still stunned as she climbed out of her cab in front of her apartment building and walked through the front doors. She climbed the stairs, silently contemplating what the man had said. He seemed to be fighting, same as her, but it made no sense, since he seemed to be someone who had had his foot in the door of the big businesses and his hand in the wallets of the big men behind said businesses for some time. Hell, she thought, it seemed he had been born into that world. What could he know of her struggle to become part of it and make her mark on it? She fumbled with her key at her door, and stumbled her way inside. Again, her reflection in the hall mirror caught her eye and she cursed the reflection, making a mental note that the mirror really had to go as it always seemed to catch her at her worst moment, reflecting back the broken, beaten, neglected girl she had tried so hard to peel off and leave behind. She thought for a moment about going into the bedroom and actually making her real bed to sleep in, but decided against it and just pulled out the couch bed, collapsing on it, fatigue washing over her. Her body demanded rest, but her mind still raced. This man was a mystery, plus, he had seemed vaguely familiar, but Emma knew she could not have met him before as he seemed so much above her. Even if he was part of the magazine, he must be nothing more or less than one of many rich boys who had nothing better to do than to dump Daddy's money into a failing publication. She mulled over it and turned it over in her mind's eye, even as her real eyes began to grow heavy. She somehow managed to shimmy out of the dress and flicked off her heels, before unsnapping her bra and tossing everything haphazardly into the middle of the floor. She was going to trip on it when she woke up, she thought groggily, but she didn't care as she succumbed to sleep. -------------------------------------------------- Loud, boisterous laughter erupted from behind the sturdy oak door and a deep rumbling voice followed it. "You obsess too easily, Michael," the voice said. Michael sat behind a matching oak desk, hands clasped and pressed to his pursed lips. His best friend, Alex Mauer, leaned against the desk. Michael had just finished his tragic tale of the mysterious woman. Now Alex had the nerve to turn up his nose and laugh. Granted, Michael knew his plight sounded a little too much like a cheesy fairytale, but it was painful all the same. Alex had no right to laugh at him. Waiting patiently for the mockery to cut off, Michael again started thinking about the girl. He knew nothing about her save she was the most gorgeous woman he had ever laid eyes on and that she worked in his building. Besides that he had- "That's it," he exclaimed, jumping out of his seat, causing Alex to fall from his perch on the corner of the desk. Michael took a minute to snicker at his friend sprawled out on the floor before finishing his thought. "She works in my building, or at least has some business there. I should be able to track her from there." Alex picked himself up and brushed himself off taking on a new approach as the cool, calm, and collected advisor. "Don't you think that is a bit stalker-ish? What are you going to do? You can't collect all of this information on some stranger and then show up on her front doorstep with a bouquet of roses, confess your love, and expect her to just let you in. That's the kind of thing people get locked up for and you can't afford to go into the little white room right now." Michael scowled at the fool. "Why on Earth would I do something so foolish as going to her home, much less confessing any form of emotion?" Alex looked at him, some hint of awe in his expression. Michael started pacing around to the front of his desk and then back and forth in front of it. "I simply must meet her on a less," he thought of a good word, "professional level. So far the places we've had encounters have been too public. I need to get her in a more discreet setting and see what she is like. I need to know her in a way that no one else knows her." Alex murmured to himself in a worried tone, "Yup, he's lost it; paging the kind young men in their nice white coats." Again, Michael glowered at him. Alex held up his hands, smiling with mock innocence. "I'm just trying to tell you, you're thinking too much about this. If you like this girl so much, just do the human thing and ask her out." Michael's look got even darker and Alex caught himself quoting the old saying in his head, if looks could kill... "You didn't come here to discuss my love life, though," Michael said and Alex felt a little guilty at the sigh of relief that escaped him. Michael pressed a button on his desk and the giant door opened, allowing two gorgeous girls to dance in. Both were of petite stature and moved with the grace of the exotic dancers they were meant to be. Tiny waists, swaying hips, pale skin; all perfectly bred features for seducing and satisfying the male desire, danced and teased before the two men. Michael watched with a mild detachment, allowing Alex the pleasure of his two best girls. Mariah and Brianna; his best hire so far; especially Mariah. That girl was willing to do anything, so long as her little pet, Bri, was taken care of. The girls' relationship played in his favor, though. He got whatever he wanted out of Mariah, and if a client so desired, the girls were more than willing to put on a show, which is what they found themselves doing at that moment. The erotic dancing had taken a turn for the darker. The girls were pressed close together, their bodies still moving rhythmically, but with more animal desire now twining them limb to limb. Mariah lifted a hand up to cup Bri's breast, and the tiny blonde threw her head back, a barely audible moan escaping her lips. Michael wrinkled his nose at the display, knowing the girls did this more for their own enjoyment than his. After a while, he couldn't take anymore and flicked a silver key at Alex. "You know where all the supplies are," he said. "Just don't do anything to hurt my jewels and have Mrs. Fairview lock the front door when you leave." Without hearing Alex's protests, Michael walked out and retired to his bedroom for some much needed sleep. -------------------------------------------------- Emma threw up her hands in exasperation, almost knocking her coffee off the table. She caught the mug before it could fall onto her white carpet and sighed in relief. Sitting on her couch in nothing but her panties and a flimsy robe, she stared at her computer screen as if willing it to burst into flames and give her an excuse to quit working for a little while. Of course at that moment, her phone rang and she impatiently punched the button to put Charles on speaker. "What?" she snipped impatiently, rising to refill her mug. "I will take that to mean you are having trouble with this weekend's story?" he countered, and Emma could tell she had deflated his cheery mood. In a moment of spitefulness, she smirked as she poured her cup down the drain and refilled it with fresh brew. "I can't seem to get a real plot going," Emma whined as she came back and curled her legs up under her on the couch, sitting Indian-style as she continued to glare at the one paragraph on her screen. "I have some pretty interesting characters here, but no real conflict." Charles paused, choosing his words carefully. "Remember what Mr. Dodd said," he tried to ease in. Emma flashed a glare at her phone and cleared her throat loudly. She could almost hear Charles little gulp. "Hear me out, Emma," he pleaded. "Why don't you try just writing eroticism, instead of trying to fight for a plot?" She raised a brow, surprised he would question her work now after so many months of satisfied reading. She opened up her fridge and browsed the contents as Charles rambled in the background, listing off the pros and cons of taking Mr. Dodd's suggestions. Finally, Emma lost it. "I don't need advice from another stuck up man who just needs fancy words to jack off to," she almost screamed, chucking a rotting banana into the trash can. "Men may just be looking for sex, but women need a little more, and being of the latter species, I am inclined to have my writing lean in that direction." She snagged a bottle of water after her search for breakfast came up fruitless, and plopped back on the couch, rinsing the coffee flavor out of her mouth. "You know what you need?" Charles said after a few moments of silence. Emma rolled her eyes but couldn't help a bitter smile that tugged at her mouth. "You need to take a break from this. You need to step out of your world for a moment and view it from some other perspective. Why don't you come out with me tonight? I'm headed to a party over at a friend's and he opened the invitation right up. C'mon; what could it hurt?" Emma bit her lip. She was hesitant to leave her writing behind, but Charles was right. She needed to step back and approach the piece with a fresh mind. Maybe a night out was just what she needed. "Fine," she agreed, slowly closing her laptop and focusing her attention on her phone. "What time?" "I'll be there at four to help you get ready." The man was impossible, Emma thought. "See you soon, hun. Trust me, you won't regret this." The line went dead. 'I hope you're right,' Emma thought to herself. -------------------------------------------------- The loud music thrummed around the crowd, through the floorboards, and up into Emma's body as she danced among the throng. Charles had once again dolled her up, although this time, she was at least wearing practical shoes. Her black flats clicked across the dance floor as she twisted and moved to the music. Her legs were left free of any kind of hose, and she was grateful she had thought to shave that morning, so even in the low light they glowed. They had argued a little over her top and skirt, and she had finally got her way about wearing a simple black skirt that hugged her hips only to flare out and fall to about her mid-thigh. Charles had insisted she wear the stupid red tank-top again, though, so she flashed like a freaking ruby slipper. Her hair was pulled up into a high ponytail, keeping it off her sweating neck and shoulders. Her makeup was dark and sharp, highlighting her green eyes and making them the center of her face, though they shared the spotlight with her bright red lips. She danced her way out of the crowd to try and find Charles. She spotted him in the corner, a little preoccupied with the "friend" who had invited them, so she moved along to the bar. Shouting above the music, she ordered a drink and leaned back against the counter, sipping it as she watched the pulsing motion. There was something invigorating about the way the human body twisted and turned almost uncontrollably, yet always with timing. She realized she was being swept away in the sensual flow of the dance. She finished her drink and made her way back out onto the floor. Closing her eyes, she just let the music take her away. Vibrations wound their way up her legs, licking at her body like the flames of an insatiable fire. The heat fueled her movement and she felt carried away on a wave of emotion as she poured her soul into the dance. She was so caught up in her own body she didn't realize she was moving from her spot and right into the arms of a man who was dancing nearby. He caught her from behind and laid his hands loosely on her hips. Her ears tingled as her eyes flew open, but instead of pulling away, she continued doing what was natural and danced against him, soon closing her eyes again as they created their own rhythm. Emma felt her body being swept away on the ride of a lifetime as the swaying and closeness sent her hormones dancing in little tantalizing circles across her skin, raising goose-bumps in skittering jolts up her arms and down her spine which was pressed firmly into the heat of his own body. The song drew to a close and Emma tried to catch her breath before turning to face the stranger. The man was young, his straw-colored hair falling hap-hazardly over his face and curling in tight strands over his sweating brow. His grey eyes sparkled as he sized her up, and his smile was warm and tantalizing. Emma couldn't help letting her gaze continue its wandering, noting that at some point in his time here, he had lost his shirt and his tan chest glistened with sweat as it heaved in and out from the exertion. Emma blushed and smiled shyly. "Thanks for the dance," she stuttered as she turned to make a quick getaway into the crowd. Her heart skipped a beat as he grabbed her wrist and pulled her back into his arms. She looked up slowly and saw a lazy smile spread across his devilishly handsome face. She cursed him inwardly, but at the same time begged him not to let go. "What's the rush, Miss?" he asked, his voice almost lost in the blaring music as the crowd began swaying again. The image of him swam in Emma's eyes for a little bit at first, but she steadied herself and smiled softly. Leaning in close to her ear so she could hear him, he asked, "Why don't we find somewhere a little quieter to talk?" Without thinking, Emma nodded her consent and let him lead her away. He took her up a flight of stairs at the back of the room. In a final attempt to regain her sanity, Emma scanned the room for Charles. When she found nothing, she let the stranger sweep her away. He led her into a spacious room along a dark hallway. The space was well lit, the warm glow coming from several candles set about the room. The inviting scent of vanilla rested gently on her nose and she felt her body relax, not even realizing how tense she'd become. "Aromatherapy is an amazing thing," she heard a voice say behind her. She jumped a little, having forgotten he was there. He continued in response to her quizzical look. "Whenever I visit here, the staff always knows to scent my room in vanilla because it warms the soul and soothes better than a hot shower, although," he paused, smiling as he directed her attention to a rather large bath, complete with jets and bubbles, "A hot bath never hurt anyone." Emma noted the steam rising from the water as if it had just been drawn. Her mind screamed at her and red flags flew up in all corners of her subconscious, but she was already knee deep. What harm would come from going a little further? She sauntered into the room, looking about. "Seems rather large for only one person," she said, turning to face him. "Or is that the point, Mr. ...?" "Alex," he said, approaching her, his face sporting that heated smile that sent her into a dizzy spell. Stopping right in front of her, he lowered his voice. "Just Alex." Emma gulped trying to put her heart and stomach back in their places. "I... I'm Emma," she whispered hoarsely. His grin widened and she felt a flush creeping up into her cheeks. She had always made it a point to never find herself alone with a man, so what was she doing here? Obviously not something she should be doing. "What brings you to town then, Alex?" she asked, loving the way his name rolled off her tongue. "Not that it's any of my business," she hurried out, her gaze falling to rest on her shoes. She realized once again why she didn't go out dancing very often. As much as she enjoyed it, her feet always swelled up pretty bad afterward and she was afraid these shoes would have to go soon, but she wasn't about to kick them off in front of this stranger. He stepped closer and she couldn't help but start moving back. "No, I don't suppose it is, but I have nothing to hide. I'm scouting out potential clients for a friend of mine." He took another step forward. Emma kept moving back, until she felt the edge of a bed pressing into the back of her knees. She felt panic flit through her as she was forced onto her rump with a muffled grunt. Alex smirked and got down on his knees in front of her and she tried not to close her eyes in fear. She gasped slightly when she felt her shoe sliding off her foot. First one then the other, a soft thunk following as he tossed them away. Gently, he took one foot into his hands and began massaging it. Emma stared down in shock as he worked his thumbs into the arch and over the ball, soothing the tension there from dancing. Next he worked up to her ankle, massaging the swollen joint softly, rolling it around and trying to smooth the kinks in the muscles. Once he was sure the first foot was completely relaxed, he moved on to the next, only when he got finished massaging the ankle, he moved up to work on her calves, then her knees. As his hands roamed up her thighs, she straightened and pushed him back. "Hold on there, Romeo," she said firmly. "I won't be swept away so easily." She backed up onto the bed, folding her legs under her and pulling her skirt down as far as the restricting article of clothing would go. One of her shoulder straps fell and she cursed Charles and his infernal sense of sexy style silently. Alex's smile widened as he reached up and before Emma could swat his hand away, he had gently lifted the strap back into place. "I didn't mean anything by it," he protested playfully, "Just thought you might be a little sore after dancing like that. It was enough to drive a man insane. You've obviously had some practice. How else could such a goddess be formed?" Emma tried to laugh, but it came out as more of a nervous hiccup. She looked down at her knees and rolled the hem of her skirt in and back out. She couldn't look him in the eyes and felt heat rising in her, causing a blush that she felt spreading over her whole face and down her pale shoulders. Alex was watching her. She could feel his gaze on her, but it was gentle, not judgmental. She jumped a little when he finally spoke again. "Emma," he said softly. She couldn't help but look at him. "You've never been with a man before, have you?" Emma was about to retort, until she actually thought about it. He was right. She was in her mid-twenties and had never had a serious enough relationship to have given herself up yet. She bit her lip in embarrassment and shook her head, her blush darkening as she closed her eyes tightly. Alex nodded before rising to his feet. Motioning around the room, he said, "You're welcome to stay here until your friend is ready to leave. I will keep an eye on him and come fetch you when he shows signs of needing an escort home. In the meantime, make good use of all you see and don't hesitate to call for help. The owner of this home is a good friend of mine and used to me entertaining guests." With these words, he walked over to a dresser, leaving Emma sitting on the bed, stunned into silence. By the time she found her voice to ask how he knew about Charles, he was walking out the door, pulling a black t-shirt over his head. Looking around slowly, Emma decided she might as well take him up on his offer and she quickly undressed and slid into the warm bath, letting the warm water relax away all the tension the evening had brought on. The Sweet Taste of Innocence Ch. 05 By about two in the morning, it was apparent to Alex that the man known as Charles, who had accompanied the young woman to this party, was not going anywhere soon. He and the host seemed to be pretty tight and there was no way anyone was breaking them up anytime soon. Alex sighed and roamed about the room, greeting people he knew, nodding at people who thought they knew him. Planting himself at the bar, Alex pulled out his cell phone and opened a text he had gotten hours ago from Michael. He rolled his eyes as he read the warning that if this business was screwed up, Alex could say goodbye to his portion of the share. Alex didn't bother responding as he knew there was nothing to worry about. He watched people who were still dancing, and noted how much fuller the floor was, now that people had gotten a considerable amount of alcohol into them. He easily picked out at least four new clients who had been more than interested in investing in Michael's little "hosting" business. Every man in his right mind loved the idea of gorgeous young women who would fulfill their every desire or fantasy. Wrinkling his nose in disgust, Alex turned away from the display of gyrating hips and writhing arms. He leaned on his elbows as he thought of what it really was like to love a woman. He thought back to the other night at Michael's. He played along for his friend's sake because the man had taken him in when no one else in the city was willing to offer him a shot. He pretended to be interested in the money and the women Michael threw at him, but in truth, there was only one thing he was interested in. He had to make sure his mother was provided for. Thanks to his little charade, Michael had secured a great place for her in a high class nursing home. While Alex's mother was still rather young, only being about fifty, she was unable to care for herself, being crippled from the waist down. Because of a car accident a few years prior, she had been bound to a wheel chair, and neither she nor Alex had had enough money set aside to pay for the expense of caring for her. Alex worked very hard to try and care for them, but it always seemed to fall just below the bar. Thanks to a chance meeting, Michael had taken the duo under his very financially stable wings and made sure they were provided for, as long as Alex worked as his right hand man. Alex ground his teeth together and gripped his glass tightly. Downing his drink, he broke through the crowd, making his way up the stairs again. He had checked on Emma a few hours ago, and called a maid to bring up something for the girl to wear to bed so she could get some rest while her pal finished his playtime. He quietly snuck into the room now, knowing he would need some sleep himself soon. He might just pull out the little trundle bed he kept there, so she could stay asleep undisturbed. He couldn't help sneaking a look at her as she slept, though. She had finished cleaning up, scrubbing away any trace of the harsh makeup she'd been wearing. Her hair was still damp, but had been carefully brushed and braided. She breathed shallowly as she slept, and a small smile danced sweetly on her lips. Alex was stunned and couldn't help jumping a little as she moaned softly and rolled onto her back, sprawled out in comfortable sleep. The comforter had slipped with the motion of her body and he watched in awe as her perfectly round breasts rose and fell softly with each heavenly breath. The simple white t-shirt the maid had found for her to wear fit loosely but had been pulled tight by the twisting and turning of her sleep. He wondered if suitable bottoms had been secured and fought the urge to look and make sure. Shaking his head hard to clear it, he pulled out the trundle and peeled back the sheets, crawling in so he could sleep. He didn't even bother undressing, not wanting to put himself in temptation's way. Still, the knowledge she was only a few feet away left him breathless and he felt his cock beginning to swell with desire for this forbidden angel who had charmed her way, unknowingly, into his bed. He closed his eyes slowly and drifted off, an image of her, cleaned and sleeping peacefully, burned into the backs of his eyelids. -------------------------------------------------- Michael paced from one end of his office to the other. His suit coat was thrown across his desk, and papers were scattered everywhere. The only thing he had come up with that morning was that his mystery woman had gotten off on the floor that hosted a little no-name magazine. The like one would find in a grocery store checkout that held false stories of his kind, making them out to be shallow, unintelligent, spoiled lunatics. He huffed and fell back into his chair. He was supposed to be meeting Alex for lunch in twenty minutes, but didn't feel like waiting that long. Hitting the intercom on his desk, he sent his secretary out for something and dialed Alex's number on his personal cell. "I've got too much going on today," he said when the young man answered. "If you still would like to have lunch to discuss plans for the gala, come to the office." "What time?" The bright cheeriness in Alex's voice was in such contrast with Michael's own frustrated mood, that he contemplated hanging up right then, but he needed a distraction, so he resisted. "Now. I just sent Stacy out to grab a bite for us. I want you here before she gets back." There was a pause on the other end of the line. "I have someone with me today. I was just getting ready to bring her ho-" "Bring her," Michael said, cutting him off. "We need to work on this. We have three weeks to get everything set, and I will have no dawdling." With finality, he slammed his phone shut. It didn't take long for the door of his office to fly open and the boisterous Alex come strutting in. The blonde whirlwind looked as though he hadn't a care in the world and his eyes danced with mirth as he ushered his lady-friend in. Michael's heart stopped. There she stood before him, as if from a vision within a dream. Her gold hair was pulled back into a tight twist, a couple barrettes holding back her loose strands. She was dressed sharply in a tan jacket and skirt set with a cream colored turtle neck beneath. Her smooth, sculpted legs tapered down into tan heels that clicked across his office floor as she approached, prompted by Alex's greeting. She held out a tiny, manicured hand and he slowly took it, gulping silently. "Pleased to meet you, Mr. Sanchez," she said, her voice coming to him through a fog. "Alex speaks very highly of you." Michael nodded, feeling like he was no longer connected to this world. His office, the building, even the surrounding skyline, faded away, leaving only him and his angel. He fought the urge to reach out and touch her, more than the simple handshake they shared. Quickly, he pulled back, clearing his throat as he was slingshot back into reality. "I believe we've met," he mused, straightening and putting on an air of authority. He continued in answer to both their quizzical stares. "The other night, at the restaurant. Little Miss Ambitious." Emma blushed, looking down. "Yup, that's me." She chuckled lightly, a sound that rang across the room and fizzed against his skin. "Didn't think I'd ever have the pleasure again." She looked up to meet his gaze again, smiling. Michael felt his own pleasure growing in his pants and quickly retreated behind his desk, as Stacy came in bearing two hefty sacks. She commenced setting out the spread of sandwiches and a couple cups of different kinds of soup. Alex smiled, showing Emma to one of two huge chairs seated across the desk from Michael. She smiled at him as she sat down and he smiled back, walking over to the lunch selection. He placed a few items on a plate for her and grabbed a water bottle out of the cooler. Emma took it gratefully and sipped from it slowly, her lightly glossed lips parting to consume the water and Michael caught himself in a daydream, in which those delicious lips were pressed to his own, then to his throat, then to his chest, working down until they were against... "Michael," a harsh voice called, snapping him out of his trance as Alex snapped his fingers in front of his face. He blinked rapidly, meeting the confused faces. He shook his head and smiled charmingly, waving his behavior away. "Just distracted today." He sighed, settling back in his chair. "Alex, you know." Alex smiled and nodded. Emma looked between the two, and Alex was quick to offer an explanation. "Every year, Michael hosts a gala in his home, the Secret Sins Gala. It is a celebration of sorts, allowing the elite to revel in a night of their most base desires." He smirked as Emma blushed darkly. Michael raised a brow, looking at Alex, who shook his head, mouthing a promise to explain later. As if struck with inspiration, Alex turned to Emma. "Perhaps you would like to be my guest?" Both Michael and Emma looked at him, horror in their eyes. Emma stuttered, "I... I could never..." She was struggling to form words, and her shy innocence just attracted Michael even more. He watched her lean in towards Alex. "You know I can't do that," she whispered. "Why not?" Michael asked, his voice loud and jolly, which left Alex awestruck and slack-jawed. "What's a night of pleasure among friends?" Before Emma could protest again, Michael whipped out one of his black and gold invitations, signed it, sealed it with a gold sticker with his family's seal, and handed it to her. "Come and let us show you what real pleasure is all about." As she took it, he grabbed her fingertips and pulled her hand to his mouth, kissing it gently, smiling darkly as he met her gaze. Quickly, Emma broke away. "I really should be going. I'm supposed to be meeting with my editor and I hate making him wait." She turned towards the door. "I'll show myself out." She retreated quickly, closing the door solidly behind her. Both men watched, Michael looking self-satisfied, and Alex looking horrified. As soon as Alex was sure she was out of hearing range, he turned on Michael. "What was that?" Michael looked at him, raising his brow. "You were basically pushing an invitation to the most elite orgy in the city into her face." "Let's not forget who originally extended the invitation, Alexander Mauer. I simply handed her the key to getting in. You know it's invite only, and even with you as an escort she would not get past the guards without proof that I had invited her." "She's a virgin for Christ's sake, Michael," Alex burst out, slamming his hands down on the desk. "You'll scare her away just like you have every woman I've ever found since coming to this town." Alex shook his head as an image of his former fiancée, Abby, flitted through his mind. He had lost her when she had found out what detestable business he was now into. It didn't matter to her, or most decent women, that he did it with the sole purpose of providing for his mother. Michael stood slowly. "Do you know what she does for a living, Alex?" Alex paused, looking at him curiously. "She writes erotic stories for the magazine downstairs. She may be virgin of body, but in her mind, heart, and soul, she is the furthest thing from it, and I intend to drag that out of her at the gala. So, whether she comes willingly or not, you are to see that she makes it there. Do you understand?" Alex, on the verge of saying no, saw a flyer for his mother's nursing home, lying among various other organizations that Michael sponsored. Catching Alex's attention, Michael smirked, placing a hand thoughtfully over the flyer, and sliding it towards Alex with obvious control. "She will be there." Alex sighed slowly, in defeat, and nodded. "Good, now that that is taken care of, we can get down to business. We need to figure out entertainment for this damn thing. Aside from that, Stacy has the rest taken care of." Alex only half listened as Michael rambled on about his girls. He was too absorbed in the flyer on the desk and images of his mother flashed through his mind. What had he become? -------------------------------------------------- Emma paced her apartment, fighting to come up with the next step of her story, fighting to make sense of what had happened that afternoon at lunch, fighting to determine just what she thought of Michael Sanchez. She plopped down on her couch, pulling her feet up under her. The night breeze from her open window blew in over her, making her nipples poke out against her white bra. She huffed, tugging up her black pajama shorts as she got comfy. She held her fingers over her keyboard, suspended there as if invisible strings held her up from her typing. Thoughts swirled through her mind. Michael was so attractive; so authorative. Isn't that what she'd just told Charles, not more than a couple weeks ago, that's what she wanted? So why was she scared now that the opportunity presented itself? Then there was this Alex character. She huffed, falling back into the cushions. That was a whole new challenge waiting to be conquered. Sweet, caring Alex; how did he play into a situation like this? How did someone seemingly so sensitive get wrapped up with a control-freak like Michael? Emma just couldn't work it out. She groaned, rubbing her temples, and contemplated grabbing an aspirin and going to bed. Just as she stood to do so, there was a knock at her door. Slightly confused, and a little annoyed, she answered it. Her breath caught as she found herself standing face to face with none other than Alex. The young man was flushed and stuttered a little, a small piece of paper clutched in his hand. "I... I hope I'm not intruding," he fumbled, looking down and shuffling from one foot to the other. "Your editor gave me the address." Emma tried to smile, but wound up gritting her teeth. "Come on in," she said. He ducked through the door and she shut it, turning just as he was trying to stuff the paper into his pocket. Instead it fell to the floor and Emma snatched it before he could stop her. Unfolding it, she saw, in Charles neat, fine script, her address, followed by, "Have fun!" Emma growled and crumpled the paper, chucking it into the trash can. She could almost hear the bastard laughing. For now, though, she did have company and she was nowhere near prepared. She looked down and blushed angrily at her plain white underthings and black shorts. Why couldn't he have caught her on a night when she was wearing a nightgown, or at least some sexier underwear. 'Dork,' she chided herself, 'What difference does your underwear make? He's a stranger.' Good point. Still, she felt a little self-conscious and motioned to the couch, offering him a seat. "Can I get you a cup of coffee? Some water?" Vodka, she added mentally, looking through her cupboards for whatever she had, alcohol-wise. Alex waved away her offer, but Emma still poured two cups of coffee, secretly dropping a few splashes of her poison into her own mug. 'Liquid courage,' she chuckled to herself. Setting both mugs on the coffee table, she curled up on the opposite end of the couch, glancing over at him. In the low glare of her lamp, he looked as if he were glowing. He suddenly turned to her, his gaze catching and holding hers. There seemed to be a battle raging behind his eyes, as if he had one thing he needed and one that he wanted. He slid closer, and Emma couldn't help balling up tighter. "Emma, I..." he again seemed to stumble over his words. "Michael wants you at that party. He... He won't be talked out of it. I need you to listen to my pleading and join me there." Emma loosened a little as he spoke, wondering at the harried, almost desperate tone in his voice. "You caught the idea of what the whole thing is about, I'm sure," he finished, sliding back to his side of the couch. "You know I would be out of place there, Alex," she muttered, keeping her knees tight to her chest. She felt his eyes on her again and heard him sigh. She looked up to see him nodding in dejected resolution. "I won't make you do anything you don't want to do. I was just hoping," he hesitated, struggling with how much he should say. "I guess I just really wanted someone else with a real heart to be there with me so I didn't feel like an outcast like I always do." He began to rise, and in the same instant, Emma unfurled and sprang forward, grabbing his arm gently, pulling him back. "Alex, this party isn't all that's bugging you, is it?" He looked at her, stunned and she smiled welcomingly. "Talk to me, please. Let me help." He hesitated, but only for a moment. He knew he could no longer shoulder the burden alone, and to have someone on the outside of his little circle actually care for him, and solely for him, was a refreshing change. Taking a deep breath, he looked into her bright green eyes. Maybe, just maybe, this woman could help free him from Michael's grasp. There was only one way to find out, so, starting with his mother's accident, he began telling her everything. The Sweet Taste of Innocence Ch. 06 Emma listened closely, more and more convinced of Michael's ego-maniacal tendencies. He would do whatever it took to promote himself as the one in control, even hosting these "galas", which were just glorified sex parties. She listened to Alex's story of his mother's condition and was horrified to learn that Michael was using it as a leash to keep Alex reigned in to this business of "pleasure". Emma found herself scooting closer and closer until her head was resting against his shoulder, as he finished telling her his tale. She almost hugged him, but just sighed, forming her words carefully. "You don't deserve this, Alex," she said slowly, after some thought. "You work hard to make sure your mother is well cared for. You look out for your friend, even when he doesn't deserve it; you even came here to warn me about what I was getting into." She lifted her head to look at him. "You're an alright guy in my book." She smiled softly, and he returned it. Her smile slowly faded as she realized how close she'd gotten. She was practically in his lap. Her breath suddenly seemed hard in coming as she gazed into his beautiful eyes. She searched for the strength she had just held and found nothing. He began leaning towards her, and she was surprised as she moved to meet him, their lips catching each other as they kissed. Emma's eyes closed slowly as she melted against him, pooling helplessly into his lap. He gathered her up in his arms, deepening the kiss. His hands roamed over her back, calming her nerves as she became more and more aware of their closeness. A blush crept into her cheeks as she felt heat flush over her body, gathering between her legs. Slowly, she lifted a hand to his face, pulling back a little, biting her lip as she searched his face for intent. "Alex," she whispered as he pulled her back close, burying his face into her hair, finding and nipping at her neck. He mumbled a response. "Alex," she tried again, more persistently, pushing against him. He finally pulled away, his breath ragged, his eyes clouded. She cupped his face in both her hands. "Alex, we can't do this." "Why not?" he asked, going for her neck again. She pushed him away, forcing him to focus on her face. "We don't even know each other. How can we do something so intimate when we only met one other time? Just because I accidently fell asleep in your room does not instantly mean we are together." She bit her lip, cursing her old fashioned morals and need to be on the up and up. Alex sighed and pulled her against him, just holding her. "Emma, this isn't about something being intimate. This is about two people, both struggling, and both needing some way to cope with their situation." He stroked her hair gently as she listened to him talk. His voice was low, quiet, and soothing, melting away all her worries and drawing her in. "Look, if you need a reason, let me offer this proposition." He lifted her chin so she was forced to look at him. "Michael will have you at that gala, both as a guest, and at some point as his own personal companion." Emma winced. "Don't let him make your first time traumatizing like that." He kissed her again, a little more gently this time. Whispering, he pleaded, "Let me be your first, and truly show you what it means to make love; beyond the sex; beyond the physical attraction. Let me love you, Emma Perry." Emma gasped lightly, looking at him, searching his face for any trace of trickery or of mockery. Finding none, she almost cried. Who was this prince of the world? She nodded slowly, closing her eyes, fighting back tears. Before she could form words of consent, his lips were pressed against hers, crushing them, begging for her to trust him. She relaxed slowly, raising a hand to his face again, riding on the sensations. She figured her body would know what to do. His hands ran over her back again and he kissed a trail from her mouth, over her cheek, and down her neck again. Emma felt her breath catch as he nibbled a line up her neck to her ear. She gasped as he sucked and nibbled the lobe, teasing it with his tongue. She moaned quietly as his hands continued rubbing her back, closing in on the clasp of her bra. A little squeak of surprise issued from her lips as the clasp snapped and her bra fell, freeing her breasts. Despite the breeze, she felt feverish as he gazed at her breasts. She was just getting used to being in the open, and even smiled a little. Then he swept in, catching one of her tight, hard nipples between his lips, sucking and swirling his tongue over the engorged, little peak. She moaned a little louder as sparks shot through her, fueling the fire between her legs. Eager to move along, and even the score, she pushed up his shirt. He lifted his arms, letting her pull it over his head. She threw it off to the side, and took only a half a second to admire his bare chest before leaning in to kiss him hard. He put his hands on her hips, and she shifted so she was straddling him on the couch. Without thinking, she began rotating her hips, teasing a groan from his hot mouth. Encouraged by his reaction, she reached down for his pants button, but before she could get it undone, he grabbed her wrists and held them back. She fought against him and used his grip on her wrists to pin his hands to the couch, kissing more desperately. He pulled back, breathing heavily. "Emma," he groaned. "Yes?" she breathed, only partially paying attention. He gripped her tighter and forced her back, making her look at him. "Not here." She froze, her mind coming back slowly as his words registered. She smiled softly, nodding. She got off of him and grabbed his hand, leading him into her bedroom. She silently breathed a prayer of thanks that she had made the bed that morning after having washed the sheets. All of this faded from thought as he kissed her again, pushing her back onto the bed. She looked up smiling, and he unbuttoned his pants as she watched, chewing her bottom lip with anticipation. He dropped both his pants and boxers in one swift, fluid motion. Emma blushed darkly at the sight of his cock, bobbing excitedly before her. She gasped a little as he began approaching her. She curled up as he planted his hands on either side of her on the bed and leaned in to nibble her ear again. "I won't hurt you, Emma. Not on purpose." She looked at him, trust in her eyes as she nodded. He pushed her back gently and tugged on the waist of her shorts. She arched her back just enough for him to tug them off, and blushed darkly as she was wearing nothing underneath. He smiled as he dropped her shorts on the floor and crawled up onto the bed. She scooted back into the pillows, smiling shyly as she lay before him, completely naked. He lay down beside her, running a hand over first one of her feet and then the other, soothing her best he could. She refused to look at him, but only nodded slowly as if giving herself silent, mental counsel. "Emma," he whispered, and she froze again. "Open your legs for me, please." She shook her head hard, closing her eyes tightly and biting her bottom lip again. He continued stroking her feet, working his way up the leg closest to him, massaging gently, trying to show her it was okay to relax. She still kept her eyes closed, breathing heavily as he worked the muscles. Slowly, hesitantly, she let the leg relax against him. He continued massaging, working his fingers over her soft, pale flesh; over her knee, around the back of it, and up her inner thigh. She squeaked and clenched her legs shut again. He smirked a little and began working the other leg, just as gently, and when he got to her thigh and saw her about to snap shut, he wedged his hand between her legs and they both froze. "Emma," he urged, using his free hand to cup her chin and turn her face to his. She slowly opened first one eye and then the other. "I promised I wouldn't hurt you, didn't I?" She nodded slowly. "Please, trust me. I want this to be nothing but a pleasurable experience for you." She nodded again. "Will you let me please you?" A nod. "Can you trust me enough to release my hand?" Another nod and an easing of the pressure that had captured his hand between her heated thighs told him all he needed to know. He began stroking the silky skin again, slowly moving his fingers higher and higher until his knuckle brushed the very edge of her outer lips. She gasped and squirmed a little bit. He froze and she moaned in protest. Grinning, he stroked once, a long, drawn out motion, from the bottom of one side, to the top, and down the other side. She squirmed harder, groaning. He did it again and she reached down, grabbing his wrist. Raising an eyebrow, he let her take control, and she guided his fingers to her slit, causing them to run up and down it. He did so a couple of times before slowly parting them and running a finger over her inner lips. She moaned a little louder, breathing heavily. He slid his finger easily through her moist pussy, teasing the hot, sensitive flesh. As she reveled in the sensations of his fingers, he moved slowly, deliberately, until he was crouching between her legs. She hesitated, looking down at him quizzically. He smiled as he licked her thigh. She groaned, her head lolling back against her piles of pillows. He licked again, this time in the little valley where her thigh met her torso. She moaned louder and squirmed. He continued licking in this little spot until her scent met his nostrils in a wave of pure passion and need. At this prompting, he dove into her sweet core, licking, sucking, and devouring her luscious pussy, making her writhe in agonizing pleasure. His tongue swirled and teased, finding her swollen clit. As she gasped and jerked from the electric spasms that shot through her from this discovery, he latched onto it, sucking hard, pulling on it. She gasped, tangling her fingers in his hair and pushing her core harder into his face. He smiled and sucked harder, moving his head side to side, so he pulled at it. She gasped and fought the urge to scream as her first climax slammed into her and she came all over his face and into his mouth. He moved away slowly, licking his upper lip. He crawled up her body and kissed her and she slowly let her tongue creep out, tasting her juices on his lips as they kissed. She was surprised at how delicious she was and pulled back, flushed and blushing. He smiled, leaning in to kiss her again as his fingers parted her lips once more. He knew she was sufficiently wet, but he wanted to prepare her for so much more. He slowly slid a finger into her hot cunt. She broke their kiss, moaning and squirming. He began dragging it in and out, hooking up to tap her G-spot every time he pulled it out. It did not take long for her to be twisting with her second climax as she bit her lip hard to keep, again, from screaming. As she rode out the orgasm, he inserted a second finger, dragging them against the flesh within, teasing her into peak after peak of pleasure. Just when she thought she couldn't take anymore, he pulled his fingers out and let her breathe. He positioned himself over her and froze. "I want you to hold onto my shoulders," he said quietly, the tip of his cock teasing her soaking pussy. Barely able to think, Emma obeyed, gripping tightly. Alex nudged her open slowly, slipping the head just past the edges of her entrance. She gasped and her grip tightened a little. He paused, waiting for her to catch her breath. When she seemed stable again, he began pushing in. Her back arched and she groaned; a mixture of pleasure and pain. He stopped, breathing heavily. Emma's breath was ragged as she tried to tell him to continue. "Emma," he grunted, "There's no easy way to do this." She nodded slowly, clutching his shoulders, her nails biting into his skin. He grimaced a little and she loosened her grip, but still held on, as if trying to save her own life. He looked into her eyes, catching their focus and trying to hold it. "I'm just going to push in. Forgive me if I hurt you. I promise, it will be worth it. Just remember that I..." He hesitated, the words catching in his throat. He wasn't sure if he should say it. He wasn't sure if it was true. He was here, though, wasn't he? Could he have really done this if he didn't? He had never done this with anyone but Abby. Then it must be true. "I love you," he whispered. Emma's eyes widened and he saw a hint of a tear glimmering in the corner of one. She smiled softly, nuzzling into his shoulder. "I... I love you too." With that, she nodded, giving him the all-clear to continue. Warming quickly to her welcoming gestures, he buried his face into her sweet-smelling hair and plunged into her depths, muffling her cry of shock and pain with a passionate kiss. She slowly relaxed against him, kissing back. Gently, with the most loving care, he began sliding back out. She inhaled sharply, arching her back and he stopped. She shook her head, dismissing her reaction, and kneaded his shoulders with her fingertips. He began moving slowly, each thrust dragging a moan out of her. As she began to enjoy it more and more, he picked up the pace, sliding his hard cock against the walls of her tight pussy faster and faster. She kneaded harder, pulling him into her harder each time he pressed against her. Her cries of pain that had torn at his heart were quickly melting into almost shrieks of pleasure as her body's reactions squeezed and milked his cock. He groaned as he began to go harder and faster. He pounded into her body as she dug her nails once more into his shoulders, eventually dragging them down his chest, leaving long, red trails as she clawed her way to his hips. She pulled him harder and harder into her body, her muscles contracting, swallowing his member. Her mind reeled and she saw spots as her body drew closer and closer to its peak. She clutched the skin of his hips, pulling him against her as she screamed her ecstasy, her orgasm ripping through her mind, plunging her into blissful oblivion. He just kept going and she was surprised to feel a second wave, mounting, suddenly hitting her with more intensity than the first. She let go quickly and reached up to grip at the rails of her head board, groaning loudly as the waves racked her brain and shot her body into spasms. Her eyes rolled back in her head and still he went on. She saw black shadows creeping into the corners of her vision and she tried to muster the energy to beg him to stop, but her body demanded he keep going, pushing her to her limits and then beyond, into the abyss of sensual satisfaction. Her eyes closed slowly and with a final fit of spasms, she passed out. Alex watched, her final, dying groan pushing him over the edge and he pulled himself from her, quickly, though reluctantly, and finished, shooting his seed all across her pale, bare stomach and up onto her perfect breasts. She moaned softly as her body completed its shut down, and he smiled gently as he lay down beside her. He sighed contentedly and laid an arm over her protectively as he drifted off to sleep. Somehow, this just felt... Right. The Sweet Taste of Innocence Ch. 07 "Oh, Emma, I'm so happy for you," Charles gushed over the phone in the morning. "I only wish I could have met the man first, but I guess you're a grown woman who knows how to take care of herself. I just... Can't believe it." Emma lay back against the arm of her couch and listened to the man, her patience growing ragged as she listened to the water run in her bathroom. Alex was in the shower, and she wanted nothing more than to join him under the hot streams as they rolled over his skin and hers, enveloping them in a totally new world. "Yeah, Charlie, that's great. Look, I have to go." She glanced longingly back at the bathroom door, her heart sinking as she heard the water turn off. "Oh, I get it," he said, in that tone that made her tick. "You've Mister Hot-Shot waiting for you and you're anxious for another round." Emma wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Not even close," she lied. "I'll tell you everything later. Love you, bye." She hung up quickly and practically ran to the bathroom door. Slowly, she pushed it open and peaked around it. There he stood, looking directly at her, a towel barely covering his great asset. She blushed darkly and came fully into view. He raised an eyebrow at her and, in defiance, she walked over to the shower and turned the water back on. Without looking at him, she whipped off her t-shirt and pj shorts she'd thrown on that morning. Trying to pretend like she didn't care, she stepped under the stream, the heat melting the tension and soreness from the night before. She got so wrapped up in relaxing under the water, she didn't hear the shower door slide open, then closed again. It wasn't until his hands were cupping and massaging her breasts that she realized he was there. She gasped as his fingertips found her nipples and teased them under the hot water. Moaning, she fell forward a little, catching herself on the shower wall as he continued teasing her. "A-Alex," she murmured. He didn't stop. Turning her around, he pressed her tight against the wall, kissing her as hot jets pounded against them. He pressed his lips to her neck and nibbled it as she moaned, clenching her thighs together. He ran a hand up one thigh, along the outside, pulling her knee up as he pushed harder against the wall, breathing heavily. The head of his already swollen cock pressed against her entrance. "Please," she breathed, nibbling his ear as he leaned into her neck. "Put it in me." He began pushing, ready to oblige, but as she was getting lost in the feeling, a buzzer sounded from the living room. Both groaned in protest, but Emma pushed Alex away and stepped out, grabbing a towel and running out to her intercom. "Hello?" she said, a little annoyed. No answer, just a chuckle. "H-hello?" Still no answer. "Who is this?" "Let me up," a deep voice said, "And you'll find out." Emma froze in fear, her heart racing. "Who are you?" "Let me up." Alex came out, glancing at her curiously. She tried to smile and act as if nothing was wrong. "Fine. Come on up." Something inside told her it would have to be fine, but something seemed off. A few seconds later, there was a knock at the door. Emma glanced to Alex for courage before slowly cracking the door, trying to peek out. Just when it seemed the suspense would snap, the door burst open and in pranced Charles, carrying a steaming sack and a cup tray with three foam cups in it. "Busy girls need good hefty breakfasts," he crooned, setting everything down on the coffee table and unloading the bag. Out on a couple of paper plates, he set bagels, muffins, and coffee cake. Emma grit her teeth and Alex smiled in amusement. She begrudgingly snatched a cup and chugged it as she stalked back into the bedroom to get dressed. She came out a few minutes later in jeans and a t-shirt. She was pulling her hair into a ponytail at the nape of her neck and paused as she caught the end of Alex and Charlie's conversation. "So you think you can handle it then?" Alex was saying. "Who do you think got her the way she was every other time you've seen her? She has awful taste in clothes." They turned just as she walked in and Charlie pointed at her. "Enter exhibit A." Walking around the couch, she accepted Alex's invitation to curl up in his lap on one end of the couch. "What are you talking about?" she asked, yawning as she got comfortable. "Why you, of course," Charles said as if it were the most obvious answer in the world. "What say you to shopping today? Alex just told me about the party and we want you to silence everyone in that room. He has specifically requested me to be your advisor in choosing your wardrobe." Emma almost bolted but reminded herself that she was a human and not a pampered French poodle. 'Exactly,' she thought. 'Say something.' However her jaw was frozen shut and she just sat there dumbfounded. It was only when Alex offered the use of one of the company limos and one of his credit cards that she finally found the tongue she'd thought she'd swallowed. "I can't do that, Alex," she insisted. "You know I really don't want to be at that gala much less to stand out. I'm doing this for you. I don't want to oblige that monster Michael any more than I have to." Alex took both her hands in his own and nuzzled her hair aside to settle his face against her skin. "Please," he murmured, "Do this for me. Don't think about Michael. I want you to look stunning for my sake and no one else's. Once we get to that party, I want to make it known that you're mine. No more mind games, and no more letting Michael control us. Let's make a statement and not let go of our stand." He turned her just enough to make eye contact. "Can you do that? Can you be my own? My princess; my goddess?" Emma blushed and turned away. Sighing softly she turned reluctantly towards Charles who smiled a little too eagerly. She tried, unsuccessfully, to burn a whole in the shape of a perfect circle right into the center of that oh-so-bright-and-cheery grin he wore so naturally it was almost scary. Instead, she wound up hanging her head in defeat and muttering her surrender. God only knew what could happen from here. -------------------------------------------------- An hour later, Emma found herself lounged in the back of a rather nice black limo, giggling as Charles tried to direct the driver in the direction of some little-known formal tailor shop. "Custom-made gowns," he had told Alex, selling the clueless gentleman almost instantly. Alex had relinquished his card and the number for the driver of the limo before saying his goodbyes, kissing Emma affectionately on the cheek. Now, here she sat, wishing she just had a coffee and her laptop. The scene before her deserved proper documentation. Finally getting it straight, Charles settled into his seat and folded his hands neatly into his lap. "Now, Emma, we need to come to an agreement as to what you are going to be looking for so we don't waste any time when we get there. We have only a week to pull this together and I don't want to be in a flustered muddle on the special night because decisions weren't made promptly." Emma only half listened until she heard "Neon pink". Her head snapped up and she hit Charles with a glare so sharp he actually jumped. "You dare try and put me in that hideous color and you will no longer have a reason to go looking for your boyfriend tonight." Her stance was stiff and defensive. Charles held up his hands in surrender. "This is exactly why I wanted us to figure out where we're going with this. I don't want you to be unhappy, but if you aren't going to cooperate, you know I have no problem taking over." Emma rolled her eyes. She knew all too well his tendency to take over, and while she appreciated it in most cases, here she would not tolerate it. Their sense of fashion varied too differently for that. She sat back and sighed heavily. "I want to blend in, Charlie," she said. "I don't want to stick out like a sore thumb, and neon anything would certainly cause that. I want to stick with my usual black ensemble." Charles huffed, but sat straighter when she looked at him again, raising an eyebrow. "You can put me in almost any style, but it has to be in black." Finally tired from arguing with her about the issue, Charles gave in and was silent for the rest of the ride. It didn't take long from there, though, to arrive at their destination. Charles seemed suddenly more excited. He bustled Emma from the limo to the entrance of the tiny shop. They were greeted by the young man Charles had been with at the party the night Emma had met Alex. "Marcus," Charles greeted him brightly, hugging the man warmly. "You remember my best friend, Emma," he said, pulling her forward, albeit reluctantly. "Of course," Marcus answered brightly. His face was bright and smiling, but Emma saw the fakeness of it as it didn't reach into his eyes. "How do you do, Miss Perry? Charles mentioned he planned to bring you in eventually." "Oh did he?" she sneered, turning a glare once again onto Charles, who shrugged and smiled, feigning innocence. "Well, before he can say anything, I am putting my word in. I want something black, something simple, and something that will help me blend into a darkened background. Subtle, yet superb...?" Marcus looked over to Charles and the two exchanged a look, smirks just visible. 'Oh no,' Emma thought as each took one of her arms and led her into the depths of whimsical fabrics and glittering accessories. Before she knew what was happening, they had her stripped down to her tank top, bra, and panties. All manner of dresses were flung over the door of the dressing room with the promise that if it looked just right, Emma would get her regular clothes back. She came out every once in a while when she liked something particularly well, only to have it shunned and then disregarded. After two hours of relentless dress-up, Emma was ready to give up and go home when an emerald green scrap was flung over the door. She picked up the flimsy piece of nothing from where it had landed on the floor. "What the hell is this?" she demanded. "Just put it on," Charles said through the door, "And come out when you have it on." "I am not wearing this, Charlie," Emma said, almost snarling her disgust. "Just put it on," he repeated, not being one to back down when he set his mind to something. Grumbling the whole time, Emma shimmied into the slip. The satin material whispered as it climbed up her legs. Once it was on, it only came to about mid-thigh, but gossamer fabric hung in misty tendrils as an overskirt to her knees. The bodice was form fitting from her hips, up over her breasts, with one strap that slung over her right shoulder. She reached back to zip up and was mildly annoyed that she couldn't reach the damn thing. Poking her head out and around the door, she spied Charles and Marcus sitting on a bench, chatting as they waited for her. "Psst," she hissed. "Little help?" Charles jumped up and ran over. "Come out, let's see it," he exclaimed. "I can't reach the zipper," Emma admitted. "Well , get out here and I'll do it for you." She slowly, shyly, stepped out of the dressing room and let Charles do up the zipper. Grabbing her shoulders, he turned her slowly for dramatic effect, so she faced them. Her blush was hot in her cheeks as she felt their eyes on her. A small gasp from Charles told her this dress was going to be way too conspicuous. "Oh, Emma, you have to wear this. Please, trust me. You look fantastic!" "No," she said simply. "Why not? If you don't buy it, I will." "Number one, I am the one holding the card, and number two, this isn't even close to what I was looking for." "No," Charles mused, sarcastically. "What you were looking for is a nun's habit." "I have the most amazing shoes to go with that," Marcus offered, breaking between them. "And why don't you come help me find some earrings and such, Charles?" Shoving her back into the dressing room like a doll into her box, the two ran off. It wasn't long before they were passing little trinkets through the door for her to try. After another twenty minutes, she stepped out. Her long, lean legs were tied into Grecian sandals in silver. Her wrists jangled to mid-forearm with simple silver bands. Around her neck was a silver chain with an emerald and sapphire dragon fly on it. Two matching dragonflies hung from her ears as well. She glared at both of them, but honestly, even she couldn't deny she looked great. Even with her hair a mess from changing in and out of gowns, she was the spitting image of a goddess. She heard a loud throat clearing behind her and turned suddenly, almost tripping over the heels of her shoes as she was caught, rather ungracefully, around the waist, by none other than Michael. Smiling ruefully, he gripped her tightly, and glanced over her scantily clad body. Their eyes locked and the man Emma saw within the depths of those eyes sent a cold shiver down her spine as she wrenched free, muttering her gratitude for his rescue. "You look stunning, Miss Perry," Michael commented, circling her. Emma felt quite uncomfortable, which only caused her to straighten and hold herself more professionally, hoping her cold stance would deter his advances as he drew close again. "You simply must wear this to the gala." Before she could object, he was talking to Marcus and making the arrangements for payment. Emma was dumbstruck, but by the time she'd recovered her nerves, their driver was escorting them and their packages back to the limo. 'This is out of control,' Emma thought as they rode home. Unfortunately, she didn't know how to stop it, or even if she wanted to. The Sweet Taste of Innocence Ch. 08 "Do we really have to do this this weekend, Alex?" Emma had propped herself thoughtfully up on one elbow against her pillow as she brushed Alex's hair out of his face. His eyes were bleary as he'd been trying to sleep for the past half an hour, but Emma was so awake and scared, she just kept talking. For the fifth time, he sighed and said, "Yes, Emma, we do." He listened to her sigh in response and flop down onto her pillow. Waiting for her to be lost in thought again, he rolled and shifted so he was up on an elbow with one arm thrown over her, and a fingertip tracing the delicate curve of her right breast. "Why so scared, Beautiful?" Searching for words, Emma realized she wasn't sure exactly why. Something nagged at the back of her mind, but she couldn't put her finger on just what it was. The only reasonable answer she could come up with, which seemed very near the shadow cloaked truth, was that Michael scared her. He put a rigid fear in her that she had never known. "Forget I said anything," she mumbled, pulling the sheets up to her chin and rolling over. Confused, Alex curled up against her back and stroked her hair until she fell asleep. Dark, creeping images slunk into her dreams as she feebly fought to sleep. -------------------------------------------------- Lights flashed everywhere. Smoke curled up from unseen machines, creating an eerie, muted flush of illumination in the room. Emma danced among the throng of people, feeling, surprisingly in her element. Being allowed to hide behind her mask was a help. Alex had helped her find one that transformed her into a hummingbird; the emerald of all birds. She flitted through the crowd, happy and comfortable in her anonymity among others of unknown origin. Out of nowhere, a form materialized behind her. Strong arms wrapped around her and pulled her tight against a masculine physique. Without missing a beat, she swayed her hips to the music, grinding and dancing against him. This was natural. This was how she had met Alex. This was what her body knew. The pulsing of the music and their bodies hypnotized her as his hands slid up her thighs, dragging up her skirt. Trying to break away, she felt his grip tighten. She opened her mouth to cry out, but he claimed her lips with a passionate kiss, leaving her breathless. Amid the rocking wave of people, he succeeded in lifting her skirt to her waist and traced her thin panties with a probing finger. Closing her eyes, Emma tried to ignore the pulsing within her while focusing on the rhythm without. His finger expertly circled to the junction of her thighs, hitching his thumb into the elastic of the thin strip of fabric. Before she could protest, he had ripped them from her, exposing her to the crowd. No one seemed to notice and then his fingers were inside her. She struggled and fought but her body responded in a way she hated it for. Her muscles tightened and just before her climax seized her, she looked up, directly into the eyes of Michael Sanchez. Emma sat bolt upright in bed, screaming. Her body still shuddered with the end of her orgasm and her hair was matted with sweat. Alex had jolted to wakefulness with her screaming. His arm snaked around her, pulling her into him protectively as she drew her knees up to her chest as if that would ward off the inevitable meeting. While she knew it was merely a nightmare, she also knew it held truth and meaning behind it. Alex rubbed her back trying to calm her and she quickly dozed off into a fitful sleep, tossing and turning as flashes from the dream continued to haunt her. There would be no rest until after that cursed party and even then, who knew? Michael was Alex's best friend AND boss. Would they be able to part ways so easily? Emma thought not, but a bigger part of her clutched the hope and clung to the possibilities. -------------------------------------------------- Charles stood back, once again admiring his handiwork as Emma turned slowly on her stool to look at him. Her wispy hair had been whisked into a lopsided cascade of curls tucked neatly behind her right ear and seemingly held in place by a large, purple hibiscus flower. Her grandmother's pearls hung again from her ears and throat settling perfectly against her pale skin which seemed to glitter in the soft, muted light of her dressing table. Her brilliant green eyes peered up from dark, thick lashes as she blushed, looking for her best friend's approval. He gasped and grabbed her shoulders with excitement trying desperately not to disturb her dress which hung almost whisper light from her shoulders. The green material swished around her as if it held a secret and vowed to protect it. Her silver heels clicked across the floor as she strut about playfully. "Do you really think this will work?" she asked Charles who had fallen to the stool she had vacated in sheer awe. He could only nod his response. Emma glanced at herself in the mirror, and grabbed her hummingbird mask from the corner of it, slipping it on easily. At least the nightmare had given her a good costume idea. Her fingers caressed the material one more time as she turned to her apartment door opening. Alex strode in confidently, but faltered, tripping slightly when he saw her. "Damn, Emma," he breathed. She sashayed over to him, her heart racing as she did, but her lightly colored lips smiling brightly, almost seductively. "You approve?" was all she said. She heard him gulp and wrapped her arms around his neck as she reached up to kiss him. "Then I guess I can survive the night knowing that you will still be waiting for me at the end of it." His arms snaked around her waist. "I don't want Michael to touch you tonight but I don't know what to do to stop him," Alex whispered into her ear, his voice sounding almost panicked as he clutched her tightly. Emma felt crushed but understood his fear and held onto him as if her life was at stake. After a moment, Alex held her out at arms' length. "Ready?" Emma shook her head, but shrugged and the two made their way down to Alex's car. -------------------------------------------------- The ballroom glittered with the costumes and decorations of a hundred high profile guests, all hiding behind their masks. They danced side by side or in throbbing crowds, depending on the music. All kinds of mood setting sounds wafted over the horde like a tide, rising and falling with the waves of moving bodies. The scent of a well cooked meal and base desire permeated the grandeur of the occasion reminding all in attendance what this party really represented. Overlooking the crowd, from a balcony that jutted out over the DJ at the back of the dance floor, Michael sat, Alex at his right hand, and Emma next to him. They watched the dancing, the grinding, and the outright sex that made a madhouse out of the base floor. Michael's hands were forming a steeple upon which rested the bridge of his nose, as he smiled ruefully out at his "collection" of the rich and powerful, all at his beck and call. Some from the power he held, others due to the blackmail. After all, isn't that the way power works? These men each had something he wanted and he had something they wanted. Maybe it wasn't the most straightforward way to go about things, but his family hadn't achieved their status on good looks alone. All this was on Michael's mind as his attention flitted from the revelers below him to the beautiful little goddess beside him. Emma was talking in low tones with Alex who patted her hand comfortingly. Sickening; the way they carried on like high school lovers. What the young woman needed was a firm hand and a huge cock. She wouldn't be so shy if she were drug forcefully from her little cage. Michael smiled darkly as he began forming a plan. "Alex," he said quietly, "Would you mind grabbing something from my office for me?" When Michael had given precise instructions for a small pile of papers that were more than likely already taken care of, he waited for Alex to leave before then sending his own date off for fresh drinks. He rose and gave instructions to his bodyguard before returning to his seat, only a few unhindered inches from Emma. Feeling slightly uncomfortable now that it was just the two of them (and a seemingly unresponsive bodyguard), Emma watched Michael with a wary eye. She couldn't help noticing his attention no longer wavered to the dance floor before them. She felt heat coming into her cheeks. "Wonderful party, Mr. Sanchez," she commented meekly. "It's Michael, Emma," he corrected. "I know it's not the party that brought you here." His dark eyes bored into her own and she shrank back a little from the look in those obviously sex-craved orbs. "I know you desire me as much as I do you. I felt it that first day in the elevator, I felt it that day in my office, and I feel it now." "I have no idea what you are talking about, Michael," Emma could feel her courage slipping away as he leaned in closer to her. "I-I'm only here by invitation, and so as not to be rude to Alex. He's done so much for me, I-I'd hate to..." Her sentence was cut short as Michael, who had risen and now stood in front of her, swooped in swiftly for a deep, commanding kiss. Her protests were muted by his strong jaw against hers and though she fought against it, he easily lifted her from her seat. The music was thumping away in the rhythm of some modern pop song. She pounded her feeble fists against his broad shoulders but quickly felt how this only spurred him on. She gasped and squirmed when she felt a breeze against her thighs and then her hips as he hiked up her skirt, exposing the string of her white thong. "What do we have here?" he speculated. Emma felt horror wash over her as she heard the music die and the crowd below went quiet, save a few hushed murmers. It was then she realized his voice had become amplified. She froze when she noticed the tiny headset in his left ear. He had a microphone set on hand. She vaguely recalled him using it to announce the opening of the night's festivities. Now, he was using it to draw attention to the two of them up on the balcony. Emma could barely see around him, but she felt all eyes on her as he turned them around and flipped her body around to show her off to the crowd. "Seems Mother Nature has graced us with a little bird of Paradise. Shall we see just how lovely Paradise may be?" A cheer rose from the crowd. Even the dancers, up on their pedestals were goading more of a reaction from the crowd as they jumped up, their naked breasts bouncing with the excitement. He turned down the headset and leaned in to whisper into Emma's ear. "The crowd has spoken." Emma felt his hand roam down her back, pausing at the top of her zipper. Trying one last time to break away, she felt his firm grip on her arm and knew she would really hurt herself and Alex if she did not oblige. His fingers worked her zipper down slowly, teasing her skin with the vibrations of its teeth opening. She felt the single strap slide off her shoulder as a single tear ran from the corner of her eye, down her cheek to her chin and drop onto her pale breast, which was quick to spring from its prison within the gown. The fabric slid down her form without the slightest catch, leaving her standing there in nothing but her heels, jewelry, and panties. Michael promptly slid those down as well. The crowd went wild, cheering their leader as he ran a hand around to Emma's front, gently cupping her left breast. She inhaled sharply as he massaged it gently. "You like that, don't you?" he mused. "How about this?" He gave the sensitive, pale orb a firm, almost violent squeeze and Emma cried out in pain, gripping the railing of the balcony. The crowd screamed their approval and Michael smiled down at them, gripping the hair that Charles had so neatly gathered behind her ear. Using that as a leash of sorts, he directed her to face his seat, keeping her bent over, exposing her round little rear end and clean shaven pussy to the crowd. Emma whimpered a little as she felt his hand press firmly against her ass, rubbing it gently. She jumped a little at the sting of his hand against her sensitive skin as he spanked once, twice, three times before rubbing gently again. A pounding at the door caught both their attention. Michael pulled Emma up against him. She felt him expertly undo his belt and then his pants as he freed his fully erect cock. Emma winced as she felt it pressing expectantly into her backside. He flipped her to the crowd, who cheered again at the view of her breasts and pussy. "It's time," Michael announced over the loudspeaker. The pounding on the door became more frantic. Emma tried to call to whoever was on the other side, but before she could, Michael took command. He had her bent over and was buried deep inside her before she had time to register his hands had been on her. She cried out in protest, but this was only the beginning. He quickly gained encouragement from her cries of objection and as the door was broken open, he had just picked up his rhythm, pounding against her body with fervor. Despite her greatest objections, Emma's body quickly responded to the manliness that was possessing her. In front of the whole crowd, she could feel her core squeezing and milking his cock, begging him to keep going even as her mouth demonstrated the opposite desire. She barely registered that the intruder to the balcony was Alex until the little bubble Michael had forced her into was violently ruptured and his cocked ripped from her body. She collapsed to the floor as what had just happened sank in. She let out a screech as she saw Michael shove Alex toward the edge of the balcony. Catching himself just in time, Alex retreated to the back of the room. Michael began to call for his bodyguards when Emma was hit with inspiration. Rising to her feet, albeit a little shakily, she fixed her tiny stature into a frame of strong defiance, the way she had always stood in front of people from whom she intended to get something. "Michael Sanchez," she called out. All activity faltered and stopped. The room was quiet again and slowly, red-faced, and beyond vexed, Michael turned to face her. "What do you want, you little whore?" he demanded. A murmur of approval rippled through the observing crowd as his voice boomed over the loudspeaker. Emma simply raised an eyebrow. "Is that all you think of me? If I'm not mistaken, at one point, you looked at me as if to worship me from behind the scenes." She took a step closer. Michael's hard stare flicked for an instant and then rearranged itself on his face. "You looked upon me as if I were above you. Is that why you felt you needed to degrade me? Is that why you felt a need to 'possess' me?" She had quickly closed the space between them and before anyone could register what was happening, she gripped his testicles in a tight, vice-like hold. Her manicured fingernails dug into the sensitive flesh and Michael was quickly reduced to a squirming mass of whimpering man. He wished only to fall to his knees and hide his precious goods from further abuse, but doing so would cause severe damage. Emma smirked, giving another little squeeze, and pushing Michael back a bit. "I think, Michael, YOU wanted to be 'possessed'." She let go and before he could regain balance and momentum, pushed him down to his knees. "So let's possess you, shall we?" He looked up at her, glaring, until she grabbed the hair at the back of his head and forced his head back. "Let's just pretend for a moment, I'm the dominant one here, shall we? Considering I hold most of the cards. Like you said, the crowd loves me." Emma turned to face the gathering, smiled ruefully and winked, blowing a kiss. A cheer erupted and she turned back to Michael. "Check mate, Darling. I win. Now, disperse the party, pay the girls, find them real jobs and homes, and leave this disgusting business behind you. Do you understand?" Michael nodded and Emma released him. Turning to gather her clothes from the floor, she heard him rise. She spun around just in time to see him fly at her. Without missing a beat, she grasped firmly at his balls again, digging her nails in just the right way to drop him into a writhing heap on the floor. In a fog of fear and power now, Emma made her way to the door where she felt as though she might collapse. At the last second, she felt a gentle arm wrap around her in a familiar way she couldn't quite place. She turned and through the fog saw the face she'd been dying to see all night. Alex watched her with fear, worry, and best of all, love written plain as day across his face. He easily scooped her up in his strong arms and carried her away as the clueless staff began trying to assist their boss to his feet. Wrapping Emma in his coat, Alex carried her out to a waiting car and directed the driver to her apartment. Completely exhausted, Emma didn't give even a single thought to how he had known they'd need to get away quickly. She nuzzled the amazing man at her side. She loved how he held her so protectively. She knew in that moment that what she had told Charles all that time ago was true. She wanted a dominant man, one who knew who he was and what he wanted, and was willing to fight for it. Alex was that and more. He was caring, and gentle when the time called for it, and he saw her as a person. She wasn't just a prize for him to conquer and show off, but a real person to love and live with. A partner to face life with, and a woman to support him as his ambitions drove him. Even though his career with Michael was probably shot, Emma was not worried. She knew that somehow they would figure out this huge mess and come out on top. There was no chance for it to work any other way. After all, he was her first, her present, and her last. And that was the way it had to be.