Buying the Virgin

Chapter 64: The Girl Who Came Back - Chapter Twenty

Michael returns his attention to my melting pussy.

“You were occupied. Don’t stop for me.” says my Master. “I’m happy to watch the show.” There is the

clink of ice, and the glug of a drink being poured.

Michael raises his head again. “Why don’t you use some of that ice at the top end. I’m busy down

here.”

“Now there’s an idea.” My Master, elegant, still wearing his business suit, sits alongside me on my

beach towel. Dipping his fingers in the iced water, he holds them there for a few seconds, then coming

close to me, holding my eyes, outlines my parted lips with chilled fingertips. He doesn’t smile, but he

has that smile behind his eyes, where I can’t see it; but I know it’s there. His eyes, dark and intense,

follow the line of his fingers as he trails a chilled line down my chin, my neck, to the hollow of my throat,

and down to my heaving chest.

Panting violently now, my control is slipping. My Master dips his fingers into the ice again, then starts

rolling a nipple between them. “Tell me,” he murmurs to me, “would you prefer to cum by Michael

licking you out, or by fucking you with his cock?”

My hips buck, my pussy clenches, and climax takes me.

Michael makes a grab for my hips, anchoring himself to me as he plunges his tongue inside me.

Wailing, I thrash out, instinctively trying to hold on to something, which turns out to be my Master’s

jacket.

He tightens his grip on my nipple, pinching and nipping it, sending jolts of pain-pleasure skipping down

to my already pulsating cunt.

He chuckles as I jerk and quiver, trying to snatch breath from the air, as my body vibrates in orgasm.

As my climax abates, Michael sits up, wiping his mouth. “Before you do that on another occasion,” he

says, dryly, to my Master, “give a man some warning, eh?”

My Master sits back, enjoying his joke, sipping his drink. “Well, as the bearer of good news, I thought

that you might both enjoy a small celebration.”

Recovering my voice as my breathing slows to normality, “What news is that, Master?”

“You have an interview,” he says, “with Richard Haswell.”

I sit bolt upright.

“With Richard Haswell? I’d assumed it would be with someone in the personnel department?”

“Normally yes, but you have an interview with the man himself. If you impress him, you’ll have the very

best of training for whatever you decide to do, and the academic side of things will be completely

funded.”

My Master tosses me some brochures. “This is what the company is putting out by way of publicity right

now. You might want to familiarise yourself with it. You’re seeing him two pm tomorrow. Anyway, I’ve

got you the interview. The rest is up to you.”

I read the brochures, cover to cover, and then again. I’m excited. Very excited. At last, a chance to do

what I want to do without having to raise money by….

Without having to.

*****

The following day, tidily dressed in a crisply pressed white blouse, knee length black shirt and inch

heeled court shoes, I alternate between excitement and nerves. My Master drives me to the office.

“Good luck,” he says, giving me a peck on the cheek, and squeezing my hand.

Checking in the bathroom that my long hair, rebellious at the best of times, has not escaped the

multitude of pins keeping it firmly under control, I present myself at reception.

“I have an appointment with Mr Haswell. I’m….”

I stall….

What am I called?

“Ah yes, Charlotte Conners isn’t it? Mr Haswell said to send you right in.” The receptionist waves me

towards the door.

I tap.

“Come in.”

Richard Haswell is sitting on a low seat overlooking a vast cityscape. Wall to wall windows give a bird’s

eye view of most of the City, drawing the eye over the river and beyond, to where I know his city

renovation project is ongoing.

He stands, smiling, holding out his hand to shake. “Good afternoon, Charlotte. Nice to meet you

properly at last. Do take a seat.”

I arrange myself demurely on the seat, crossing my legs at the ankles, hands clasped on my lap.

“Coffee?”

“Thank you. Yes, white.”

As he pours, he continues, “James is enthusiastic in his praise of you. He tells me you have not had a

good start in life, but nonetheless are highly motivated and achieving very good academic grades.”

“I’m pleased with them, yes.”

He flips open a folder. “Straight As, except for a B in fluid dynamics? Pretty good.”

I nod.

“So, tell me about yourself. You are seeking training in our Student Engineer Program? Forgive me, but

you don’t look like classic ‘engineer’ material.”

“I was doing physics, but I was already having second thoughts about it….”

“What second thoughts?”

“Not the course itself. I loved that. More about where it was taking me, what I want to do later. Then,

when I was out in your reception a few weeks ago….” For a moment, my throat tightens at the memory

of that day. I fight it down and continue. “…. I saw your cityscape model, your plans for that area, and

suddenly, I knew what I wanted to do. I want to be part of that, rebuilding that part of town, turning it

into something beautiful….”

I dry up. “Um, sorry if that sounds a bit silly…”

Haswell doesn’t exactly smile, but I think he is pleased. “No. No, it doesn’t sound silly at all. I

understand exactly what you are talking about. That is, at least in part, the reason I am doing the work.

The other part is, of course, that it is making me a great deal of money…. What do you know about my

company, Charlotte?”

We talk for some time. I can’t decide if I am making the right impression or not.

Finally, he says, “Charlotte, here are my cards on the table. Frankly, I’m not sure what to make of you,

but the fact that you come with such glowing support from James, whom I regard highly, does carry

weight. If it suits you, I’m going to give you a trial week, perhaps two weeks, with us. Think of it as a

very long interview. During that week, you can sit in on meetings, visit our sites, see how we work….

Meanwhile, we can get to know you, and decide if we would be a good fit for each other. How does that

sound?” NôvelDrama.Org holds © this.

“It sounds great. Um, when would you like me to start?”

“No time like the present. How about tomorrow?”

“I’ll be here, Sir.”

*****

We are celebrating, the three of us.

We enter the Club. I am on Michael’s left arm, my Master’s right. We circulate; chatting, sipping drinks,

enjoying the atmosphere.

Wearing my beautiful black, halter-neck dress, I know that I look good and, safely between my two

Lovers, enjoy drawing the eyes of the men around us, and sometimes the women. With my tall, dark,

saturnine Master, and my golden-haired, blue-eyed Lover, we make a handsome trio, and I am

becoming blasé about other guests angling for invites into our group.

No invites are forthcoming.

“Tonight,” says my Master, “we are doing things a little differently.”

“In what way, Master?”

“This time, Michael is taking the lead. He will be your Master for the evening.”

I turn to Michael. “I thought you didn’t like… you know… doing things to me?”

Michael says nothing, simply looking down at me, smiling. I wonder what is in the bag he carries.

My Master leans in close to me. “There’s more than one way to skin a cat, Charlotte.” He nods to

Michael. “Be with you in a minute.” And he walks off across the room.

I’m a bit startled by this, but Michael gives me a gentle tug on the arm. “Come on, he’ll be back

soon.”