slinkymel's blog / Three-on-a-desk!!!

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7:26 Three-on-a-desk!!!

Hi

I think I said that Lou runs an escort agency introducing guys to trannies for a ludicrous fee. I’m not on her books but I will lend a hand sometimes if she’s desperate – after all she’s helped me out on so many occasions that it seems churlish not to. Yesterday evening she called me and asked me if I would go on a date up in London – the guy apparently wanted a blonde and a redhead – and was paying top bucks for the privilege. Now Stas is the duty redhead and I know Lou has other blondes but she says: “Mandy’s just had a boob job and Sharleen’s shacked up with some guy so I’m desperate!” She sounds almost plaintiff – which is not an adjective I would usually use in the same sentence as Lou – and she’s probably promised something she now can’t deliver. Reluctantly I agree.

‘Dress like a lady’ are the instructions so I fish out my new Guia la Bruna lingerie and slip into it before sliding into my blue Anna Sui cocktail dress which is very short, with a slit up the front. I agonise over shoes before plumping for a simple pair of black patent peep-toe courts with a 5 inch heel. Pearls or gold – I ponder the options before going for a gold collarette and matching bracelet – for once I leave off my ankle chain. It’s a little chilly outside so I decide to be daring and wear my mink bolero jacket. I wouldn’t usually wear it out on the town – but I figure we are not likely to meet any animal rights loonies where we are going!

The car arrives at 8pm – fuck me it’s a frickin’ Rolls Royce! Stas is already lounging on the back seat in red dress and heels and looks like Lady frickin’ Muck with her pearls and snooty attitude!!! We set off and the hunky chauffeur in his grey suit slides back the partition and says:
“Make yourselves at home….ladies!”
With that a little walnut panel opens to reveal a cabinet stocked with drinks and all sorts of other stuff. While I fix myself a Jack Daniels, Stas selects a twist of white powder and I look away – been there – done that - got over it. The journey to London takes a while and I’ve cleaned the bar out of whisky by the time we arrive at an underground car park. Ricky the chauffeur leads us to a lift and we go up to the twenty-third floor.

The door opens into a cavernous office that is as big as my whole apartment. Sitting behind the desk is our ‘client’ a business man in his late fifties who just oozes power. He barely notices us and nods towards a sofa where we sit demurely as he clinches some deal on the line to the USA. Finally, after ages, he hangs up, flicks his intercom and says – ‘Sharon - no more callers for half an hour’. He is a big man, almost completely bald and very powerfully built. I notice his highly polished shoes, Hermés tie and gold cuff links as he walks across to us. “Good evening ladies.” He says with a slight smirk as he leads us over to a desk, the size of a dining table. We stand next to it and he grabs me and kisses me – hard – no preliminary – just hard – tongue straight in – crushing my lips against my teeth. His hands reach behind me and are suddenly up my dress and under my butt cheeks. I wince at the pain but he doesn’t notice as he hoists me waist high and I wrap my legs around him while he continues to ram his tongue down my throat. Stas kneels in front of him, her ginger locks right under my ass, and unzips his trousers and takes his cock out. He gasps as she takes him between her lips and mashes my lips some more, his stubbly chin rasping against my face. A moment later the intercom crackles:

“Sir – you wife is here – she insists on seeing you right now!”

Without warning he pulls away from my mouth, releases his hands and I drop on top of Stas, before we collapse in a jumble of limbs on the plush Axminster carpet. As he’s doing up his trousers he jabs us both under the desk with the toe of his shiny brogue and we scuttle into the recess to escape his none-too-gentle kicks. A moment later the door opens.

“Working late again dear!” The tone is hostile the word ‘dear’ said without warmth. He mutters something and she continues: “I’m going to the opera and you’ve left me short – I want some money!” Again the strident hostility. Her words are slightly slurred and I swear I can smell stale alcohol. I nearly jump out of my skin as something prods me on the thigh and I edge away and peer down. The pointy toe of what looks like a Christian Laboutin shoe pokes under the desk and is joined by another as she is obviously standing right in front of him. I crane my neck and, sure enough they have the distinctive red sole of these classic shoes. Then I get a reality check - if she comes around the side we are up shit creek without a paddle as she doesn’t seem the type to take kindly to two trannies hiding under hubby’s desk! However, Stas is still high as a kite and her hands probe up my thighs under my dress and her lips find mine and pretty soon I don’t care if Mrs Businessman finds us! I vaguely hear the rustle of notes and hope this isn’t our fee disappearing into her purse. Then she announces:
“What’s that smell? – Some cheap scent – It’s not that silly little airhead Sharon’s so who’s is it?”

Stas removes her tongue from my mouth for a moment and points at me accusingly. I shrug at first them realise that it must be my perfume. Amouage Gold is not a common fragrance and it’s certainly not cheap. However, he rides to the rescue…
“Must be Monica from accounts – she was in here earlier.”
The shoes thrust right under the desk and both Stas and I instinctively cling onto each other. It’s obvious his wife is leaning right across the desk probably prodding him in the chest.
“If I thought for one minute you were unfaithful to me - I’d divorce you and make Ivana Trump’s settlement look like petty cash!”
With that the Laboutin’s swivel and, a moment later, the door slams. Stas and I poke our heads out from beneath the desk like timid gophers and he smiles at us – the first time he’s been actually human. He fixes us a drink from a bar set into the wall and tells us to sit on the desk.
“Which one of you is Melanie?”
I raise one hand like a naughty schoolgirl and he continues:
“I hear you can do things with your feet!”

So that’s it! Lou’s plea of ‘You’re the only blonde girl available’ is bullshit – I’ve been hand-picked for this job! I slide onto the desk and slip of my shoes, making sure the labels are visible. I’m glad I wore a pair of my Jimmy Choos tonight – I don’t want him to think I’m some cheap tart – somehow it matters that I wear shoes every bit as good as his wife’s. My dress has ridden up to my waist exposing a long expanse of tanned thigh but he only has eyes for my feet. I ask him:
“Can I borrow a pen?”
I’m a bit daunted when he produces a Mont Blanc fountain pen, the size of a Cuban cigar, but I take it, noticing the inscription – ‘with all my love Rachel’. However I sense I’ve gotta perform so I stick my hands behind my back, place the pen between the toes of my left foot and write ‘Melanie’ on his blotter – followed by a smiley face. Then I transfer the pen to my right and write ‘Einalem’ in the same writing and a frownie face. Finally I lift the pen up and place it between my shiny pink lips and look at him like an appealing puppy. He laughs and takes the pen though I can’t help noticing that he obviously takes his wife’s threats seriously because he wipes my lipstick off the pen before he replaces it in his pocket. Stas asks if he has a roll of Sellotape and he looks bemused, but fishes one out of the desk anyway.

However, his confusion soon turns to interest as Stas undoes his trousers for the second time and I settle into the lotus position and place the soles of my bare feet together. His cock is fat and meaty and surrounded with a mass of dark curls and it swells as Stas wraps the tape around my toes and heels, binding my feet together, sole-to-sole. Stas joins me on the desk and sits behind me with her legs either side and I lean back into her lap. Then, as she supports my weight I raise my feet upwards until they are half-way to my head. He is transfixed by the sight - but when I arch both my feet and a slit appears between my soles, he sighs and his cock springs to attention. He clambers onto the desk – not exactly gracefully I might add – and drops his trousers – within moments he is ravishing my feet, his tongue probing between my soles and I play hard-to-get by jamming them together and closing the gap on his tongue. He winces and slaps me on the thigh – not very playfully at all – and I decide that it’s probably better for Stas and me if we just give him what he wants. I arch my feet again and in an instant his cock is between my well-lubricated soles, fucking the gap, his shiny purple end emerging from between them, only to disappear back between the silky skin of my arches.

He has no idea what I’m doing as I slowly draw my feet higher and higher and he barely notices he is scrambling up the blotter to keep his cock in contact with my feet. Now they are right in front of my face and Stas grasps my ankles, anchoring them in position. The next time his engorged glans emerges from between my soles I take him between my lips and into my mouth, sucking the precum from him. He moans in pleasure and I think for a moment that he is going to cum - but it is not to be and he crushes me against Stas as he leans forward and thrusts his mouth against hers, giving her the same rough kissing he did to me earlier. I show solidarity with her by gripping her heels to both keep me in position and show her that I’m right with her on this.

He is not a considerate man and he does not make love to my feet – rather he ruts with them. His grunts become ever more animal as he pounds my feet, probing further into my mouth with each thrust. Out of the corner of my eye I glimpse a line of silver-framed photographs. Two kids with their university degrees and Rachel, looking sleek and lovely. Did his behaviour turn her into a bitter old drunkard or did her alcoholism drive him to the likes of Stas and me? My surrealist musings are brought to an end as his grunts reach a crescendo and he shoots a hot stream of cum into my mouth. He withdraws his cock and the next jet cascades into my hair, before he perfects his aim and expends himself over Stas. Finally, he flops on top of me and I am pinned beneath his weight as he snuffles and sniffs like a pig looking for truffles. After what seems like an eon, he rolls off and I am able to unfold my numb limbs. Stas and I kiss - licking his spunk from each other like a pair of grooming orang-utans - but he is not interested in girl-on-girl and is already wiping himself with a Kleenex. We separate and Stas slits the Sellotape with a silver letter opener and I massage my aching feet before retrieving my shoes and sliding off the desk.

Stas and me straighten our dresses and retrieve our jackets, even as he pushes a button under the desk and a bookcase swings aside to reveal the lift door. It slides open and Ricky is waiting for us. As we step inside, our businessman is already on the intercom:
“Sharon – get me the Montreal office!”
We clamber back into the Rolls and pull out of the garage into the street. It isn’t even dark yet, so brief has our encounter been. We briefly discuss going onto a club but Stas has already opened the bulging envelope that Ricky gave her and we figure it’s pretty dumb to annoy our benefactor. She counts out Lou’s ‘administrative costs’ - then her own cut - and hands the rest to me. I don’t bother to count it but I know it will be more than enough to pay for several pairs of Christian Laboutins – just like Rachel’s! I open the bar and am amazed to find it has been re-stocked – with everything. I open two miniatures of Jack Daniels while Stas opens her handbag to prepare. My eyes open wide – how does the lazy cow get a platinum credit card? Then I think – two thousand pounds for thirty minutes work - which in her case involved a ninety second blow job and a sperm shower – I’m surprised she doesn’t have a diamond card!

Love

Melanie

xxxx







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