Locked Down with Mr. Right

Moving onward and upward ever more, he kissed my lips. I immediately returned his affections. His tongue soon enough found its way into my mouth. So distracted was I by our beautiful make out session, I scarcely noticed when he mounted me.

The introduction of his huge, hard, beautiful cock into my pussy came as a pleasant surprise. I gasped around his tender lips as he kissed me. His hips started to rock in a synchronized motion as he worked his cock inside me in a way that made me want to melt.

It was slow but gradual, the correlation clear between his deft thrusts and the sound coming out of me. All were prayers to Venus. Each a bit different and a little louder than the last, the intensity wasting like the tide in a gathering wind.

Before I knew it, he was pinning me down, soft hands around my wrists, my body writhing deliciously beneath him as he fucked me hard. He pumped his cock into my tightening pussy like his life depended on it. I wrapped my legs around his waist and yelped even louder as I pounded my fingers into myself under the water, trying to keep up with his tender fury.

Finally, in a single explosion brought all of us together, the Tobias in my head, the version of me in my head, and the real me in the tub.

The car was there in the morning, waiting not so patiently by the curb like a predator sprung for the pounce. Clementine leaned against it cool as ever. Her Alexander McQueen shades only adding to the effect.

She almost reminded me of Mercy in that moment. I made a mental note to call my best friend of many years to tell her what was going on. It was quite possible she was worried because I called her almost every day. She would also want to know that she was absolutely right, and I was foolish and wrong, and they had indeed chosen me for the show despite my scepticism.

“Nice shades,” I said when we were underway.

“Thank ya, darlin’. My mama would burn my bottom if she saw me wearin’ them but what she don’t know won’t hurt her,” she said.

“Why is that?”

“You know who Alexander McQueen was, right?”

“British fashion designer, as far as I know,” I said.

“Exactly right, darlin’. He was damn good, too. Really creative. He used to say that he would imagine a world, populate it with people and then, and only then, imagine what the people are wearing.”

“Wow.”

“I know, right? Sadly, he died of suicide, which is kind of a no-no in my house. Though that’s nothing compared to him being, you know, a friend of Dorothy.”

“No, I didn’t,” I confessed.

“Yeah, folk ain’t real friendly to that sorta thing where I come from.”

“I’m not surprised. I mean from what I’ve heard anyway. I don’t want to stereotype or anything.”

“Stereotypes exist for a reason, puddin’.”

The building didn’t look any less intimidating. I almost asked Clementine if she would go in with me, but she had a job to do and so did I. Better just to get on with it. Taking a deep breath, I started the limb up the front steps.

I’d never really had a makeover before. Not an official one anyway. Mercy and I used to do each other’s makeup, but that was just for fun and she was always much better at it than I was. Her results had me looking like Audrey Hepburn. My results on her looked more like Gaahl from Gorgoroth. We took pictures for posterity.

They moved kind of like birds. Pecking and stroking at me with penciled and brushes, maneuvering my hair into new and interesting shapes. I could hardly believe the results when I came out the other end. I looked maybe ten years younger. My overall look was a modernized version of a flapper. Neck length, fire red bob and all.

“Right, to wardrobe,” Mari said. Tobias had lent me his assistant for the day. I had to make sure to thank him.

“Strip.”

This was the first word I heard upon entering the wardrobe room. Getting me down to my base garments, I was rebuilt once more. Like a house burned down to the foundations. I tried, I really did, but my jaw still dropped at the sight in the mirror.

“I know right?” the stylist asked, standing behind me.

“Holy shit!” Mari said as she entered the room unannounced.

“Thanks.”

“Time to go up,” Mari said, pulling herself back together.

Tobias Ford was waiting for us in the studio. My heart started pounding in my chest at the very sight of him. He was wearing a similar version to the day before, only his suit was midnight blue instead of black, and his shirt, still silk, was cream white.

“How are you feeling?” He asked.

“Good. I think.”

“A bit nervous?”