If you truly love me Ch. 02: Sophie

This is the second install of David, Holly, and Sophie's story. Many thanks to Bill and Dave for pre-reading and providing valuable feedback and, of course, I owe much to Vandemonium1 who is endlessly supportive and always helps me dig a bit deeper.

This chapter comes with the usual warning -- I've done my own editing which is never a good idea as one becomes far too familiar with their own words and therefore misses little mistakes. My hope is that they are few and don't detract from the overall story.

Happy Reading,

CTC

IF YOU TRULY LOVE ME

CHAPTER TWO: SOPHIE

AS I SIPPED my wine, a nice Shiraz from the Hunter Valley region, I did a leisurely look around at my new colleagues. The company appeared to be just as the lovely Holly Prescott had described at my initial interview: a relatively small boutique publishing outfit that fostered a family feel. The fact they'd organized a small welcome party for me that included the spouses and significant others of the employees backed up her claim.

I had a good feeling about my move. There wasn't much of an increase in salary, but the cost of living in a regional city was markedly less than that of Melbourne so at the end of the day I'd have more dollars left in my pocket. It was also situated in a prime location—only an hour or two from Sydney. For me, it meant weekend trips to check out the Sydney night life without the hassle of having to deal with the regular weekday commuting nightmares associated with living in a large city.

And, if I was being honest, the delectable owner of the firm was an added incentive to make the move.

I looked with curiosity at the husband of my new boss.

David Prescott.

I watched him place his order with the barman at the makeshift bar they'd set up. He wore his confidence like a second skin, as easily as he did the perfectly cut white shirt hanging from his broad shoulders. And why wouldn't he? Nature had blessed him in more ways than one.

She'd given him a full head of hair the colour of light oak, not fair, but not light brown either. The overhead lighting picked up the blond streaks. I ventured they were gained naturally rather than artfully placed there by some talented colourist. He wore it brushed back from his forehead. At his temples, a smattering of grey, but, as was often the case with men, it added a touch of distinction.

His height lent him an air of authority, as did the ease of his movements; he was clearly in decent shape. Definitely no paunch or love handles were in evidence. A man to give most girls hearts a little flutter if you were into sexy older men.

Not me.

I loathed him on sight. He was everything I despised about men.

He turned with two glasses of wine in hand and I followed his progress across the room. His journey ended with his wife. His beautiful wife.

Holly Prescott.

Now that I was definitely into.

He smiled down at her, stooping to kiss her nose as she tilted her face up, returning his smile. He handed her one of the glasses before wrapping an arm around her waist and joining in her conversation with someone I had yet to be introduced to.

I had to admit she was the perfect foil for him. They looked good together. Her blonde hair complemented her husband's. It hung like a curtain four or five inches beyond her shoulders. It was sleek in the way that I suspected meant Holly Prescott had made good use of her straightening iron for the evening. She was average height. Five-five, maybe five-six, and with the type of curves that could turn to fat if the owner wasn't vigilant. She was vigilant. I'd love to see her naked to see just how vigilant.

Her dress was white, matching her husband's shirt, and I wondered if she'd colour-coordinated their outfits for the evening. Was she one of those wives, like my sister, who chose her husband's clothes for him? Thank God, I was a lesbian and didn't have to do shit like that for some stupid guy who had no colour or dress sense. I'd always wondered at men who allowed their spouses to take over in that manner. Was it laziness? Or were they truly as incapable as their wives seemed to think they were in making a decent choice of shirt?

Holly Prescott was a little older than my previous lovers, but that didn't stop me from acknowledging she'd be considered by most women, as well as men, as a good mix of sexy and elegant. The neckline of her dress dipped low enough to advertise the fact she could compete with any other set of boobs in the room, yet was also high enough to broadcast she had the good taste not to. The same could be said of both the length and fit of her dress—short and tight enough to let the viewer know she was no stranger to exercise, yet long and loose enough not to be slutty. Girl-next-door meets seductress.

"You're wasting your time checking him out, sweetie."

I turned to face the speaker and merely quirked an eyebrow. No need to advertise the fact it was Holly I was checking out; not her husband.

"Liz," she said, thrusting a hand in my direction. At my blank look she smiled understandingly. "I'm Holly's PA. We spoke on the phone."

I returned her smile, thankful she'd reintroduced herself to me as I had indeed forgotten her name and where she fit in.

"Well, you know who I am." I laughed. "Newbie editor and clearly terrible with names."

Liz chuckled. "Don't worry about it. As long as you keep it straight in our authors' novels! And new jobs; there's always a lot to take in."

I nodded, my gaze sliding back to the Prescotts.

"Forget it. I can verify the guy is a straight arrow—as straight as they come."

"He wouldn't be the first, aah, straight arrow to take a walk on the dark side."

She laughed, nodding. "True, but not David. That man adores his wife. Its kind of sickening, actually."

"How so?"

"Oh the usual. He's a one woman man if ever I saw one—spoils her, never says a bad word about her, always buys her the most thoughtful and romantic gifts. And he never looks at other women even though more than a few have tried to catch his eye."

"Perhaps they used the wrong seduction technique."

Liz laughed again. "Maybe, but I doubt it. Let's just say I can confirm the, aah, spark is alive and well between that pair. Now, if you want to hook up with a gorgeous looking guy ask Holly for Warren's number. Looks like Ben—that's him over there." She indicated a tall, brown-haired man on the other side of the room. "Ben's Holly's brother and David's business partner, and Warren looks just like him, only younger. More your age." Seeing my expression she laughed. "Sadly, too young for me."

"So why not go for Ben?"

"Oh, you could. You'd certainly be right up his alley, but Ben is a player. Changes girlfriends as often as I have hot dinners."

I laughed. "Ï see."

Listening to Holly's secretary it was clear to see she thought the Prescotts the perfect couple and David Prescott the perfect man. Internally, I smiled. Neither perception deterred me. In fact, the challenge only made Holly Prescott all the more attractive to me. David Prescott wouldn't be the first man to lose his wife to me. Probably wouldn't be the last either.

I chuckled. "For the record, Liz, I'm not looking for a boyfriend."

*****

I LOOKED AT the retreating figure thoughtfully. Interesting. Very interesting. Only three weeks into my new job and unless I was very much mistaken, loved-up-Holly-Prescott had just checked me out. I looked down at my cleavage revealed in the V of my tailored white shirt and smiled. I reached into the V and cup of my lacey white bra, adjusting the puppies to sit higher. Satisfied, I moved my hands down to my hips, smoothing my skirt.

Holly didn't know it, but I'd been checking her out too as she reapplied her lipstick. Difference was years of practice made my perusal far subtler than hers.

Holly's charms sparked a gentle throb between my thighs. I thought about going into one of the toilet stalls and having a little me-time. A quick glance at my wristwatch blasted that idea out of the water. Damn, no time. Not even if I was quick. It wouldn't pay to be late for a production meeting.

"Down, Kitty," I whispered to my tingling pussy and then chuckled at myself for talking to my vagina as if it were a person. "Time for play later."

*****

HOLLY PRESCOTT, I decided, was in denial about her sexuality. Perhaps, like so many of the older generation, she'd suppressed it and tried to fit into the nice, neat little square box society dictated.

In the gay world you heard about it all the time; men and women in their forties, fifties and even older, suddenly unable to keep up the façade any longer, coming out, and leaving long term marriages.

Holly would be another such statistic. I'd help her, give her the strength and motivation to free herself of her self-imposed chains. Pulling the rug out from under the likes of David Prescott would merely be a bonus.

God, how I hated him. Him and men like him. Men like my father. He—they—represented everything I loathed about the male of the species. So certain of their right to rule. So sure that whatever they were doing was more important than what their woman was doing. That they were in charge. How often had I heard my father say he "let" my mother do this that or the other? Too many times. As if she needed his permission. Other than a few years as a stay-at-home until me and my siblings had reached school age she'd worked. Had a career of her own and contributed just as much to their assets. She was as smart and capable as him. More so.

Wherever I looked the prejudice, the subjugation, proliferated. My last job a case in point. Gerry Taggart started the same time as me, held the same title with the equivalent responsibilities and yet he was paid more than me, despite my doing the better job. And when a position further up the totem pole became available who got the promotion? Gerry, of course. They even upped his salary above that of the woman he replaced.

Why the hell did they think the dangly things between their legs automatically accorded them more rights than a woman? Made them smarter? Superior? Gave them the last word?

Men. Fuck them all. Idiots. Most of them were stupid. I mean, what else could you be when you let something less than ten percent of your body height or weight do your thinking for you?

Yes, by getting Holly Prescott to act on her feelings I'd be doing her a favour. After all, didn't The Bard say To thine own self be true?

*****

SEDUCING HOLLY PRESCOTT was proving easier than I'd imagined. The woman was so ripe for plucking she might as well have been a late-summer peach.

A lingering touch, a few well-timed compliments and appreciative looks and she'd been practically gagging for me to kiss her. And hadn't that first kiss been sweet. She'd been like a starving woman let loose on an all-you-can-eat buffet.

And she'd come back for seconds.

And thirds.

Yes, definitely an over-ripe peach.

She was, however, balking at taking it to the next level. She let me touch those pretty tits of hers through her clothing and even rub her needy snatch through her trousers. She'd squirmed and panted but when I had her on the edge of climaxing she'd pulled away, gasping something about not being able to cheat on her husband.

Not cheat? What did she think the kissing and groping was? A game of Twister?

Christ, I hope she's not going to suggest we have a threesome. Hopefully, David Prescott isn't a cliché and into watching two women getting it on.

I shuddered, remembering another wife who I'd lusted after. Her husband couldn't get enough of watching me dine on his wife's shaved pussy. Couldn't get enough of seeing me make her come again and again, harder and longer than he ever had. At first, I'd liked showing off my superior skills, her groans and pleas for me to never stop served to rub his shortcomings in his face, but in the end I hated it. She'd be howling and clutching my face to her snatch, beside herself with pleasure, and he'd shove me out the way so he could ram his dick into her still spasming cunt. Arsehole made me feel like the warm-up act.

No. Not again. When I got Holly Prescott naked it would be just her and me and maybe my strap-on.

"*****

MORNING HOLLY," I said, closing her office door behind me.

"Morning, Sophie."

I crossed the room, enjoying her blush and subtle squirm. I walked around her desk, leaning over her, and placed a manuscript before her, making sure my breasts rubbed against her arm. She didn't adjust her position. Nor did she move away when I remained hovering over her, our heads almost touching, my breath fanning over her neck as I spoke quietly about an issue with the manuscript. In fact, she tilted her head to give me better access.

I obliged her. The fragrance of her shampoo mixed with her perfume and natural body scent. It was intoxicating. I slowly trailed soft, moist kisses from behind her ear all the way down her throat. She leaned back, her breasts pressing against the fabric of her blouse. I hid my smile with more kisses when she reached and undid two of the buttons, freeing her lace-clad tits to my fingers and tongue.

While kissing along the edge of her bra on one side, I scooped the other breast out. Her nipple was as hard as a rock even before I twirled it between my finger and thumb. I swapped sides, gently tugging on her erect nipple with my teeth while I exposed her other breast.

And then I went to town, leaning over her, alternating between nibbling on and wetting her nipples and blowing on them with rolling them between my fingers and thumbs. She moaned and panted, thrusting her chest up for more. She looked so wanton, arched and begging for my touch.

She slid down her seat, her skirt riding up to expose lacy knickers. I smiled; they were damp. I didn't hesitate to seize the opportunity. Wetting my fingers in my mouth, I slid my hand under the top of her panties, making sure I kept her on edge with my attentions to her breasts. I wasn't going to give her the opportunity to call a halt to proceedings again. Not this time.

I needn't have bothered with lubricating my fingers with saliva; she was dripping wet. I coated my fingers in her juices and quickly found her clitoris. It was swollen and needy. It wouldn't take much to tip her over the edge.

The previous time I'd gotten her this close I'd started talking dirty to her, asking her if she wanted it. That had brought her to her senses. I didn't make the same mistake this time. I kept busy on her throat, lightly trailing my tongue from her ear down to her breast, all the while twirling and squeezing the other nipple. As impatient as I was to see her come on my fingers, I made myself take my time, circling her clit, merely brushing it with my fingers until she was groaning and humping urgently against my hand as best she could.

And then she had her legs on the desk. I braced myself against the back of her chair to prevent it from moving backward. She splayed her thighs, exposing her slit, now a deep, rosy pink, suffused with blood and need.

Holly moaned, her breasts at war with her cunt as to who should get my attentions. Each greedily lifted and pushed into my hands.

I needed to keep her feeling not thinking and so I favoured her cunt, circling her clit, slowly speeding up.

"Please... please," she panted, her hair making a rustling sound against the back of the chair as she turned her head this way and that.

Her humping against my hand sped up. It was time. Time to finish her off.

That's it, my peach. Come for me.

"Oh god. Oh god." Her cunt flooded. She looked beautiful. A beautiful mess.

Holly slumped into the chair. She looked sexy. Sexy and slutty with her hair mussed and her blouse open, breasts exposed. Her skirt up around her waist and her legs relaxed and open on her desk. She'd lost one shoe during our interlude.

Gently, mindful of possible regrets, I adjusted her panties and lowered her legs one at a time to the floor. I swivelled her chair to face me and, with a final kiss and tender squeeze to each, returned her breasts to their lacy prison. Holly was like putty in my hands, offering no resistence or assistance. She looked half asleep. I dropped to my knees before her and raised the hand I'd used on her cunt to my face. I kept my movements languid. Sensual. One by one I sucked on each finger. I saw something spark in Holly's eyes and internally smiled. If I wanted I could have her again immediately.

I wanted. Oh boy, did I want, but I restrained myself. Next time we'd both be naked and I'd get to drink direct from the fountain.

*****

HALF AN HOUR had passed since I made Holly Prescott come on my fingers. I lifted my hand to my face. I could still smell her on my fingertips. My own crotch was throbbing demandingly but Kitty would just have to wait. I needed to consolidate my gains with Holly first.

For the second time that morning I knocked on her office door.

"Come in," she called. Her voice sounded its usual self.

I approached the desk, seating myself opposite and opened the discussion on the manuscript I'd brought in earlier. To listen to us you'd never guess I'd had her at my mercy less than an hour earlier.

Once I had the direction I needed regarding the manuscript out the way, I leaned back and brought my hand to my face. I sniffed delicately, my gaze on her face.

"You smell so good, Holly. And you taste even better."

Holly whimpered. She literally whimpered. I so had her exactly where I wanted her.

"I need you, baby. I need you naked and under my tongue."

"I can't," she moaned. "David won't let me."

"Do you need his permission?"

Holly nodded, clearly miserable. "I can't cheat on him."

I refrained from pointing out I'd had her charms on display and her coming on my fingers less than an hour earlier. Let her keep her self-delusion if it got me what I wanted.

"Have you actually asked him?"

"Yes. I've tried everything—abstinence, food, sex, begging. I thought he was on the brink of allowing me to explore but then he upped and said no. Said you'd come between us."

"I don't want to come between you and your husband," I lied. "I just want to be the one you explore your bi-side with. I just want you to do that with someone who cares about you and will look after you."

"I know. That's what I told David. I said you were no threat."

"I'm not. We'll have to convince him. It's cruel to deny you something you need to explore in order to feel happy and whole."

Another nod from Holly, her eyes begging me for more reassurance. More rationalisation.

"How can you ever be truly happy and content when there is a whole aspect of yourself that you're denied knowing?"

"I know! It's driving me crazy. I can't stop thinking about it. " Holly blushed, dropping her gaze. "About you. I want you so bad."

"No more than I want you. We'll have to just keep working on David. When he sees how important it is to you and that its not going away, surely, he'll agree."

I said 'we' but we both knew she'd have to be the one to get him to agree. Personally, I didn't want him to. I wanted her to come to me without his permission. I wanted to take her from him, to have her choose me over him.

"If he truly loves me he would give me this."

"Yes." I nodded in agreement. "If he truly loves you your happiness and wellbeing would be his priority. He's being selfish and insecure by denying you something you need. He should trust in your love. He should get over his pride and ego and support you through your sexual journey."

And so the conversation went on. Holly looking for justification and my giving it to her. Me planting seeds of discord, Holly watering them.