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Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is
copyright with all rights reserved by the author
unless explicitly waived. No re-posts are allowed. No
commercial reprints are authorized. This means YOU! 

The author relishes your comments at anoninsac (at)
yahoo (dot) com. If you like this story, see my other
stories at www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/anoninsac/www.

Thanks to my proof readers, Varod and Chuck who make
it look like I actually have mastered English. Any
mistakes which remain are strictly my own stubborn
fault.

All characters are fictional. Any resemblance between
living persons or real situations and the story are
strictly coincidence.

WARNINGS: This story depicts consensual sexual
activity between men and women, or women and women. If
you are too young to read about sex please do not read
this.


ckought69@hotmail.com

The Temptations of Babylon 2 (MF oral con) {Anoninsac}



Part I

I was in Dockers and my Stanford polo shirt looking
Heavenward. Damn, but this is a tall building. I
stepped into the lobby and found the elevators. At ten
of ten the elevator deposited me in front of the glass
doors opening to a plush reception room. As I entered
the receptionist asked, "May I help you?"

"I'm here for the reading of a will," I said. 

The receptionist looked at me a little strangely, then
nodded. "Ms. Sharp will be right with you."

_Mizz,_ I thought sourly. God how I hate the political
correctness of _Mizz._ Sharp was one of the names
etched in the glass door so I assumed she was a
partner. I looked around the reception area. Before I
even had a chance to sit down I heard behind me, "Mr.
Kane?" I turned to see a very well dressed woman
advancing with her hand out. 

I shook her hand and answered, "Mike."

Smiling she said, "Come this way. We'll use my office.
I really don't expect many people at the reading." I
followed her to her office. She looked at her watch as
she sat and said. "A few minutes early but I think we
can begin." She picked up a folder and opened a rather
lengthy document. "Your uncle was a rather eccentric
man in some ways. It is quite unusual to read a will
on a Sunday morning. You know why he was so explicit?"

"I can guess," I said.

She looked at me over her reading glasses. "He did
rather like to tweak people's noses, especially if
they were stuffy. Well, let's get on with it." She
opened the will to the first page and started reading,
"I, John Joseph Kane, being of sound mind and body, do
swear and attest before these witnesses this day that
this is my last will and testament..."

The attorney droned on for a while as I stared past
her and out the window at the bustle on Market Street.
I remembered walking down Market Street with Uncle
Jack one Saturday afternoon. We were passing a dive,
the Market Street Cinema. It was a strip club having
the usual posters of beautiful naked women and a
barker working the sidewalk, "We got naked girls.
Watch `em do it dog style, hog style, frog style. Come
on in." It stopped me in my tracks. Frog style? What
the hell is frog style? Then I started giggling at the
grotesque images flashing through my mind. Frog style...

Uncle Jack saw me stop and smiled, "Ever been in
here?"

"Nope. I understand it costs money Uncle Jack and you
know what my finances are like," I said. "I've never
been to a strip club."

He laughed, "Well boy, my social security check came
in this week. Be my guest." I followed him inside.

Uncle Jack paid a dirty fellow at the front desk the
entrance fees. I followed him into the main part of
the club. It was dark except for the spot lights on
the stage. A short somewhat chunky brunette was
dancing to the throbbing music. She also was wearing
high heels and nothing else. This isn't Merced
anymore, Toto. 

I always had mental images of strippers being tall,
blonde and big-titted. This girl was wrong on all
three. But I also pictured little g-strings and
pasties with tassels swinging and this girl was naked
as a jay bird so I guess it evened out. 

I looked around. Maybe this place had once been a
cinema but it had certainly been heavily remodeled.
The theatre seats had been replaced by individual
booths. 

I got my next surprise as I looked around. The place
was full of women wearing next to nothing. I had
figured you only got to see the girls on stage. A tall
black woman walked by and gave me a neon smile and a
wink. I was stiff by the time I smelled her perfume. 

"Let's go sit down," Uncle Jack said. I followed, my
head swiveling like a bobble-head doll trying to see
all of the women. Most of the women weren't
classically beautiful. In fact, a few were down right
unattractive. I wondered how they made money dancing.

I watched as the women would whisper in a guy's ear.
Sometimes they would climb into his lap and start to
hunch around. It looked to this country boy like they
were fucking.

I leaned over and caught Uncle Jack's eye and looked
at a couple two rows down. "Are they fucking?"

He shook his head. "Not allowed out here." He looked
toward a door marked, _Private Dances._ "You have to
rent a private room."

I couldn't believe it. This was nothing more than a
brothel. Oh Toto. 

The brunette had been replaced by a tall redhead
obviously enhanced by the best money could buy. I
mean, her tits were big and had no sag at all. I
guessed they had to be helium filled to stand up like
that. She was limber as well. I was surprised a woman
could open her legs like that.

A bare belly came between me and the girl on the
stage. I looked up at a vision. This girl was _the_
California blonde. There must have been black lights
in the house because her tangerine colored bikini
glowed in the dark. She smiled, "Would you like a lap
dance?"

I don't think I drooled but I did have to close my
mouth and then restart my breathing.

I heard Uncle Jack say, "My friend would like a lap
dance," as he handed her a bill. I didn't see the
denomination as it quickly disappeared. Miss
Incredible Vision smiled and climbed into my lap. She
caught my eye and held it. Her face held lust and
intriguing promises. Then she pulled my head forward
and buried it in her cleavage. I could have died right
then a happy man. She also started to rock her hips.
Her pussy, through the thin layers of cloth, was
rubbing along my cock. I guess this was a lap dance. I
thought it was heaven. "My name is Delilah," she said
as she rocked on my cock.

My hands went round to cup her ass. "Hey," she said.
"You can't do that out here."

"Sorry," I mumbled, releasing my grip. 

She smiled and started to roll her hips again. I
watched her face fill with lust as she rubbed against
my cock. I was going to cum. Then, the song ended. She
bounced out of my lap. 

I couldn't believe it. How could she stop? She caught
my eye and asked, "Would you like a private dance? I
think you'll _really_ enjoy it. I'll take care of your
problem."

Before I could consider a reply I heard Uncle Jack
say, "Here's for the room," as he handed her a twenty.
"He'll take a private dance." 

The girl turned and headed for the door. I looked at
my Uncle knowing I couldn't afford a private dance,
whatever it cost. He handed me a bill, a hundred, and
said. "Ask for bare and offer her a hundred for a bj.
Don't pay a penny more. She'll try to negotiate but
she'll take the Ben. Have fun," he said with a
devilish smile.

I nodded and followed the girl. She was waiting at the
door. She handed the guy the twenty and he marked
something in a book as she watched. Satisfied, she led
me past him, down a corridor through another door and
into a long hall. The private rooms turned out to be
small cubicles with a black curtain closing it off
from the hall. I couldn't believe people had sex
behind nothing more than a curtain.

She pulled one open and stepped in. I followed. "What
do you want honey?"

My mind couldn't fathom that this beautiful woman was
prepared to have sex with me. I had never imagined,
except in my wildest fantasies, a girl this idyllic
would really have sex with me. I would have given her
anything at that point but all I had was the bill
burning a hole in my pocket. Jack's words came to me.
"I'd like a bare bj for a hundred." It sounded like
something from Jeopardy. `Alex, I'll take blow job for
one hundred, please.' 

"It'll be a hundred fifty," she said.

I pulled my hand from my pocket, panicked that Uncle
Jack had been wrong. "I only have the hundred," I
said.

She looked at the bill in my hand. She shrugged, then
smiled and grabbed the bill. It too disappeared. Where
the hell was the money going? Before I could consider
the mystery of the disappearing money I was distracted
by her shrugging her bikini bra off her shoulders and
tits exposing their natural beauty to my eyes.
Magnificent. I looked at her bottoms expecting her to
take them off. 

"Well," she said. "Take off your pants."

"I thought you said bare," I said.

"Look, for one I'll give you a bareback bj. But I'm
not taking off anything more."

"How much?" I asked.

She looked at me and sized me up. I think she could
tell there wasn't much to squeeze from this turnip.
"Twenty."

I knew I had one twenty in my wallet. I was incapable
of considering any long term ramifications even if it
meant I was going to starve. I quickly pulled out my
wallet and handed her the twenty which left a couple
of lonely ones. 

She watched and smiled knowing she had cleaned me out.
When she stepped from the bottoms and I could see her
shaved pussy. "Could I kiss you?" I asked staring at
her pussy.

She was about to ask for more but stopped. "Okay." She
sat on the padded bench against the wall and raised
her legs. Her pussy spread open. I was drawn to it. My
tongue touched her labia. I ran my tongue up and down
her crack and then plunged it between them. I don't
know how long I kissed and licked her pussy, but I
felt her push my head away and say, "Your turn,
Honey."

I stood and she bounced off the bench motioning me
over. She gestured at my pants. I understood and
unzipped and pulled them down. She pushed me back
until I sat against the bench. I was leaning back off
balance which elevated my cock straight up. She
grabbed it and engulfed it in her mouth. I had never
felt anything like it before. I didn't take long. I
tried to warn her but I think she could tell anyway.
She pulled back, grabbed some Kleenex, and jerked me
off into them. She wiped me up a little before
standing, quickly pulling her bikini back on,
resettling the bra, a quick smile and a, "Thanks
Honey," and she slipped through the curtain and was
gone.

My cock wasn't even flaccid yet. I had just had the
most incredible sexual experience of my life and yet I
was vaguely disappointed that she had just
disappeared. I pulled my pants up and wandered back to
the stage area. I could see Uncle Jack looking my way
as I emerged from the door. He was smiling and I
smiled back. I saw Delilah slide into some guy's lap
and whisper into his ear as I walked back to where
Uncle Jack was sitting. He stood as I approached and I
followed him out. As we left I looked back and saw
Delilah walking back to the private dance area with
the guy. I felt a little stab.

As we emerged into the light of the afternoon, he
asked, "How was it?"

I smiled, "Incredible. I didn't know that places like
that were in San Francisco."

He laughed, "Places like that are everywhere. The one
constant in life is sex. If places like that ever
cease to exist society is in trouble." He looked
sideways at me, "Yes?"

"Nothing." He looked again and raised his eyebrows. So
I said, "It was incredible. I never thought a girl
that beautiful would have sex with me. But then she
was taking some other guy back there too."

"Jealous?" he asked. I shrugged. "Boy, she didn't get
married to you. She just gave you a little bit of
Heaven. Enjoy it for what it is. Don't make it into
something else."

"But it was for money," I protested.

Uncle Jack laughed. "Those Bible teachings comin' back
on you, huh?" I reddened a little knowing that he was
right. "Mary Magdalene was a whore and the way Jesus
hung with her I bet she was a damn fine one too. No
wonder Jesus never married. He was getting plenty on
the side." I felt my ears burning from the sacrilege.
It's hard to completely lose those childhood
teachings. "If God wanted a whore at his side who am I
to go against God's will. Just ask, 'What would Jesus
do?' and you do the same." He was grinning wolfishly
knowing he was mashing my buttons hard. 

"Sacrilegious old prune," I said. Jack broke up
laughing and clapped me on the back.

Uncle Jack never took me any place like that again.
But I sure was grateful to him for the experience,
even though it kept me up many a night digesting the
experience.

The attorney's voice pulled me back, "...and to each of
my brothers and sisters I leave the sum of ten
thousand dollars. To each of my nephews, nieces,
grandnephews and grandnieces I leave the sum of five
thousand dollars."

Damn, I didn't think Uncle Jack had that kind of
change. There were a lot of cousins at five grand
each. Then I thought, `I'm one of those nephews.' I
just got five grand. I could pay off the loan on my
car. That would free up a nice chuck of cash each
month. Maybe I could ask that cute receptionist in
marketing out for a date. Life was looking up.

"Since I am without legal issue, I leave the remainder
of my estate to the issue of my youngest brother, my
nephew Michael Sean Kane."

I looked up at the attorney, "Excuse me?"

"Your uncle left the remainder of his estate to you,"
she said.

"What? Why?"

"I can only speculate as we never discussed his
decision. Until recently his will called for his money
to go to various organizations and causes with which
he had an interest. The current will was written about
two years ago. He had no children of his own and was
never married. I do know he did not hold any of his
siblings in high regard. Of the next generation, you
were the only one he had any dealings with that I know
of. Frankly, you were his only relative who would give
him the time of day. I suspect that your uncle came to
regard you as a worthy inheritor during your time at
Stanford. Mr. Kane, I know that he thought highly of
you. He arranged your scholarship to Stanford and paid
for it himself."

"He did what?"

"Your Uncle was a great believer in education as you
might know." I nodded. I had heard his lectures about
it often enough. It was one of the few things Uncle
Jack never joked about. "When he learned you had been
accepted to Stanford and then found out you were not
going to attend because of the fiscal issues he was
quite upset. He said something about getting at least
one person out of purgatory. He had this firm contact
Stanford. They were quite unwilling to establish a
scholarship for an individual. So your uncle funded a
group scholarship amounting to $250,000 a year for the
four years you were at Stanford. It turns out Stanford
was quite willing to accept a million dollars with the
stipulation you get a full ride. You were only one of
many recipients, but you were the reason he funded the
scholarships."

I remembered the news when it came. I had resigned
myself to attending the local junior college when we
got the call. A full ride four year scholarship had
been established and I qualified. Uncle Jack?

"But Uncle Jack was living on Social Security. How the
H... I mean, where did he get that kind of money?" I
asked.

Ms. Sharp smiled, "As I said your uncle was a bit of
an eccentric. He did receive social security but it
certainly wasn't what he lived on." She paused and
looked at me for a few seconds. "Mr. Kane..."

"Please, call me Mike. I hate the sound of Mr. Kane,"
I said.

"I'm afraid you'll need to get used to it. You are now
Mr. Kane. Anyone who controls the wealth you now
control is going to be called Mister," she said.

I wasn't wealthy. I'd never be wealthy. I majored in
political theory which, unless you are dishonest
enough to run for elective office, guarantees you'll
never be rich. I may have gone to Stanford but that
doesn't make you brilliant. I said, "Huh?"

"Your uncle was a rich man. Because he wasn't on very
good terms with your family it is possible they were
unaware of the magnitude of his wealth. Your Uncle
started amassing his wealth during the war. I don't
know if he was a brilliant man or simply creative or
even lucky, not that it matters. But during the war he
started designing and building things for the military
they couldn't get anywhere else. They paid him
handsomely and he bought into land and buildings. This
continued for the next thirty years, designing,
building things for the military, and investing the
proceeds. You know that many defense contractors are
clustered around the South Bay. Your uncle was in at
the start of that whole thing. He still holds patents
for which he is paid handsomely by the US Government.
We receive the checks but I have no idea what those
patents are for. The patents themselves are
classified. The only one I personally know of, due to
a clerical error they included a description, was for
a spy satellite device that allowed taking images
without film. You know, of course, that the whole
technology of digital cameras was developed for spy
satellites?" 

I shook my head. Uncle Jack built spy satellites? 

"In any case, he plowed his money into real estate
largely into what is now the Silicon Valley. He
thought he'd become a gentleman farmer. I guess those
days on the farm stayed with him. That land is now
developed. Whole orchards he purchased are now prime
real estate in the heart of the valley and they are
owned by you," Ms. Sharp said. "That is why you are
now, Mr. Kane." She took out a lager binder, "Here is
a current list of assets and fair values as of the
date of death. Lucky for you, your Uncle purchased a
life insurance policy to help cover the death taxes.
I'm afraid you are going to owe the IRS a rather
sizable chunk even after the insurance but the IRS
won't get it all. Even so, you will never have to work
again if you do not care to. Your uncle converted much
of his wealth into income generation assets when he
retired. You can sit back and clip coupons for the
rest of your life."

I took the binder and stared at it. Me, rich? The
binder was three inches thick and heavy. How much was
I worth? I opened it to the front page. It was a
personal financial statement for Michael Kane. Me.
Cash, bonds, stocks and real estate less taxes due,
mortgages and notes payable and Net Worth. That bottom
line had too many numbers. I looked up at Ms. Sharp.

She laughed at my expression, "No, this isn't Candid
Camera. Yes, that is really the fair value of what you
own today. Our firm has been handling your uncle's
affairs for thirty years. We would be glad to continue
in that capacity for you. No need to make any quick
decisions. Take your time and get used to the idea. We
have a fund under our control that your uncle used for
ready cash. I believe it has about $440,000 in it
right now. Not a lot but you don't want too much tied
up in cash. I have already changed the name on the
account." She handed me a signature card and a VISA
debit card. "Please sign the card. You can change the
PIN over the Internet if you want. All of the
information is included."

I signed the signature card and pushed it back over
the desk and put the Debit Card in my pocket.

"One last thing to discuss today," Ms. Sharp said.
"Your uncle asked that you live in his apartment." She
paused and looked at me as if searching for words.

"Is there a problem?" I asked.

She smiled, "Well, from what your uncle has said to me
of you, I don't think it will be a problem. Rather
than me trying to explain I think I perhaps should
just take you over and show you the apartment."
Another folder produced a set of keys.

"What about my car?' I asked.

"Do you really think you are going to continue driving
that car?" she asked.

I thought about the heap of bolts with the
gerbil-powered engine I was driving and realized she
was right. Damn, I could have any car I wanted. Hell,
I could afford one like that special racing version of
a Porsche that Bill Gates bought himself.

She extended her hand. "Tell you what. Why don't you
give me the keys to the car and the keys to your
apartment. I'll have our staff sell the car and
arrange for movers to pick up your things from your
old apartment. I suspect that once you see your new
digs, you won't even want to set foot in the old one."

I handed my keys over and she tossed them in a folder
along with a note. Then she led me out to the
elevators. A few minutes later, we were in a taxi and
heading up Kearny. Ms. Sharp continued with the
explanations, "Your uncle has an apartment on top of a
very nice building." We turned up Sacramento Street as
she said, "The apartment is quite large, taking up the
entire floor. It has wonderful views as the building
is near the crown of the hill."

I glanced out as we headed up Nob Hill. At the crest,
we made a quick turn, then another and pulled in front
of a building. It was a skyscraper apartment building,
very fancy with a doorman. "This building? I own this
building?"

"The whole thing," she said.

She led me to the door. The doorman opened it, "Hello
Ms. Sharp."

"Jerry, this is Mr. Kane's nephew. He will be living
in the apartment."

Jerry bowed his head slightly and said, "We were all
sorry to hear about your uncle Mr. Kane. He was a good
man."

"Thanks." I extended my hand and said, "I'm Mike."

He shook and said, "Glad to have you in the building
Mr. Kane. Anything I can do you just let me know." Ms.
Sharp set off into the lobby, her heels clicking on
the marble tile floor, so I followed. This was going
to take some getting used to. 

There was a bank of elevators which Ms. Sharp
bypassed. Behind a large stanchion there was another
elevator. Ms. Sharp handed me a key and pointed to a
lock. I put it in and turned and the door immediately
opened. "This is a private elevator to your floor."
Inside were only two buttons, up and down. I pressed
up and up we rushed. My ears popped as the elevator
climbed.

When the doors opened I was staring at the most
luxurious place I had ever seen. I walked out and
stopped. All of the outside walls were floor to
ceiling glass. I went over to the wall. I was looking
down over the Fairmont, the Mark Hopkins and the
Pacific-Union Club, the single most exclusive club on
the west coast. All of the movers and shakers of San
Francisco were members. Off in the distance was the
Financial District, the bay and the Oakland Hills
beyond. The view alone was worth a million dollars.
"What's the rent on this place?"

"There is no rent, Mr. Kane. You own the building,"
she said. "But if it were rented I wouldn't even want
to know what it would cost."

I laughed. I walked over toward the dining room. There
was a Kandinsky on the wall. I looked closer. It
appeared to be authentic. I turned to Ms. Sharp. "It's
real," she said. "As you know, your uncle appreciated
art. All of the art in here is original."

I looked around and saw a gorgeous painting of
Elizabeth Siddal. Again, I turned to Ms. Sharp. "A
recent addition. When your uncle made you his heir he
made a few purchases with your tastes in mind."

"He bought a Rossetti just because I like the
Pre-Raphaelites?" I asked.

"I believe he made the purchase right after he had
made you his inheritor. It is a beautiful painting as
well," she said. "He sold a... I can't remember the
painter, some Abstruse Disfunctionalist and used the
money for this."

"Good trade," I said.

"Since I can't insult your Uncle's tastes now, I
agree," she said. "The painting he sold was just red
and blue drips on a yellow background. It made me
nauseous to look at it."

I laughed and walked around to the kitchen. It had
everything you could think of. The stove looked like a
restaurant stove except that it was fancy instead of
utilitarian. Against one wall was a floor to ceiling
wine cooler, cellar thing. The whites in one area
were, according to the temperature gauge, being cooled
to 54 degrees. Reds were being cooled to 66 degrees
and the champagne to 45 degrees. I heard behind me,
"Your uncle had quite a fondness for wine, and only
the best."

"I guess," I said. 

We went back to the main room. Maybe you could call it
a living room except that it was bigger than the house
I grew up in. "I think you'll be quite comfortable
here," she said. I was wondering if it was too big.
I'd get lost in this palace. 

"One last thing before I go." I looked at Ms. Sharp as
her demeanor had changed. She was standing a little
straighter and again seemed to be looking for the
right words. "As I said, you now control the remainder
of your Uncle's estate. Tomorrow, you could change
everything about it. Sell off assets, fire our firm.
Whatever you want. With one exception. Your Uncle left
very specific instruction on a slightly sensitive
issue." 

She paused again. This was quite a build up for
whatever it was. "Your Uncle bound the estate to four
personal service contracts. All other contracts expire
with his death which is usual law. Within the will
there are four contracts that begin with his death.
These four contracts run for three years from his
death. You see, there are four people who live on the
next floor down. The floor below this one is divided
into four units. Each is used by one of the
individuals with the personal service contracts. The
contracts have a rather Draconian penalty if you
choose to break it. The person immediately assumes
ownership of the entire building under their
apartment. In other words, if you tried to break these
contracts the four would wind up owning the building."


She paused again. "As to why the contracts, I think
your uncle has, excuse me, had a very fond place in
his heart for these people."

"What do they do?" I asked.

"The contracts do not specify exact duties," she said.
"I know that he also had a cleaning service come in. I
know he couldn't cook worth a damn. I've heard him
mention that they cooked, made sure he was clean and
presentable, your uncle was fashion challenged and he
had them help him choose his clothing, and ran errands
and such things. Frankly, I suspect their main duties
were to provide him with companionship. Your uncle had
many acquaintances but few friends."

"I was surprised there were so many people at his
funeral," I said. "Uncle Jack never mentioned any
friends."

She walked over to one of the windows and pointed down
at the Pacific Union Club. "He was a member."

"Uncle Jack was in the Pacific Union Club?" I asked.

"When your uncle bought this building, the land
included three parcels that were once a single parcel.
You own the land under the club. Not the club itself,
that is owned by the members. But you own the land.
The rental agreement includes an automatic membership.
So you assume the membership," she said. "Those were
the people whom you saw at his funeral, as well as old
business contacts. Your uncle wasn't a famous man I
suppose. But he did know just about anyone who is
anyone in the Bay Area. One of the members in the Club
is the CEO of your current, umm... former employer. I
don't know for a fact but I would be willing to bet
that your Uncle mentioned his bright young nephew when
you were looking for your first employment." 

I stared at Ms. Sharp. "Well, I'll be damned."

"I can't comment on that," she said. "The law isn't
concerned with right and wrong much less damnation."
She turned and headed for the elevator. Before she got
in she stopped. "I told the people below that I was
bringing you up. I'll let them know you are here. I
know they are anxious to meet you." She pressed the
button and was gone.





		
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