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o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
o  	The 'Bookshelf collection' offers a very wide variety of  o
o  stories. They have been submitted by people from all over the  o
o  world.  Also from alt.sex.stories (Newsgroups).   There is no  o
o  particular  order  other than offering them to you in  alpha-  o
o  betical directories.                                           o
o  	I don't believe in categorizing things. "I don't want to  o
o  be typed therefore I don't type things myself."  I think it's  o
o  a lot more fun to browse around and find  'little'  surprises  o
o  that you might not have even thought of looking for.           o
o   	Lest we forget!!!   This story was produced as adult en-  o
o tertainment and should not be read by minors.   Kristen         o
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o

Hooked (MF, dom, prost)
By David Shaw <shaw_david@hotmail.com>

(THIS STORY IS INTENDED FOR THE ENJOYMENT OF ADULTS ONLY)

	There's a financial newspaper on my desk and it says that
Georgie Kalvos is dead.  I'm half wishing he's doing a stint in hell
and half hoping he's got plenty of good looking women down there to
keep him company - yes, and an occasional bottle of ouzo to slake his
thirst too. It's been many years since I last saw him and if I'm going
to remember him I'll remember him as he was. A middle aged man with
the smile of a boy,  the build of a gorilla, the manners of a courtier
and the morals of a shark.

	Talking of sharks, I wonder if Collette at her ranch in Nevada
is remembering Georgie and the first girl who ever turned a trick for
her? For a long time I resented Collette and Georgie because they made
a fool out of me but if Collette was here now I'd gladly share a toast
with her to our Greek lover's memory. Collette runs a brothel and I
run a bank, and yet I think that perhaps he was one of the few real
man that either one of us has ever known.

	Slowly, I rub my palms over my desk, thinking back to that
other manager's office, that other desk, the one that creaked
underneath my weight as the bars of sunlight leaking through the
blinds fell onto the dollar bills jammed into the tops of my
bank-uniform nylons, the roughness of Georgie's hands between my
opened thighs and Collette's excited voice jeering at me: "Hey,
Yvonne, I think he wants to make a deposit in you!"

	It was when I'd first joined the bank, as a teenage junior
teller. It was a time when all the world loved the Beatles, when
computers were still out of sight and out of mind, and when I was
terribly excited about living away from home for the first time. Not
that the branch I'd started in was located anywhere at all exciting.
Just a small fishing town where the fresh sea breeze was often tainted
with the smell of drying nets and diesel fumes from the trawlers.

	The bank had arranged accommodation in the local YWCA, and it
was Collette who showed me around it for the first time. She was a
plump, cheerful girl with a bubbly personality who had the room next
to mine and also worked at the bank. In fact the bank was such a small
one that Collette and I were the sole full time staff, plus the
manager. The only other employee was a local married woman who came in
during the mornings to help with the bookwork.

	Though everything seemed fine at first I soon had an vague
impression that Collette had something on her mind that she wanted to
talk about. One afternoon she invited me into her room to share some
beer she'd smuggled in and to have a little chat. It turned out to be
a little chat with some big surprises in it.

	"Listen, Yvonne, I've got a private arrangement at the bank.
The thing is, I need your help to keep it going. The girl who had your
job before was happy to help out and I'm hoping you'll do the same."

	My first reaction was a horrible fear that I was being invited
to help cook the books.

	"God, no," Collette had answered, laughing. "No, it's nothing
like that at all. It's to do with Georgie Kalvos."

	As new as I was in town I already knew something about
Georgie, a classic immigrant success story. He'd arrived in town as a
teenager with only the clothes on his back and hardly able to speak a
word of English. A lot of people thought that originally he'd jumped
ship. If so, it had been the first of many smart moves: now he owned
four fishing boats, a  processing plant and even the trucks that took
his catch off to the markets had his name on their sides. But what he
and Collette could have in common I couldn't imagine. So I asked her.

	"Well....," Collette seemed rather coy. "Before I go back to
the city I'd like to make as much spare cash as I can. And what
Georgie wants is some fun on the side. He's certainly got the money to
pay for it. The problem is that this is a small town and his wife is a
Greek as well. You know how jealous these foreign wives can be about
every little thing."

	I hardly knew anything at all about marriage or marriages,
whether foreign or domestic. But I just nodded.

	"So, we've got this arrangement. Every Thursday afternoon our
boss goes off to the weekly managers' meeting upstate. Which just
leaves me and the other teller in the branch. Which also means that
from now on you'll be the other teller, right?"

	Yes, I said, I supposed so. Of course this was a small town
back in an era when people went on holiday without bothering to lock
their doors and bank robberies only happened in Westerns.

	"So what?" I asked.

	"So on Thursday afternoons Georgie comes in to collect the
payroll for his workers."

	"What about it?"

	Collette sighed in frustration and looking back I can't blame
her. I must have led an incredibly sheltered life.

	"Yvonne, what I'm trying to tell you is that when he arrives I
take him into the manager's office to get the money out of the safe.
He'll arrive just before closing time and we'll be in there for about
an hour. So I'd be really grateful if you'd cash up and keep look-out
for us until I let him out of the back door. And please don't come
knocking on the office door unless you have to."

	I nearly dropped my glass in surprise when I finally
understood what she was talking about: "In the bank! You're doing it
with a customer in the bank!"

	"I told you, he has to be very careful about his wife not
finding out. So going to the bank for the payroll is a perfect alibi.
Who's ever going to suspect that anything would be going on there?"

	"But, Collette, why do you do it?"

	"For money, that's why. He leaves me a hundred dollar tip from
the wages afterwards."

	I was astonished all over again. In those days fifty dollars
was a good wage for a week's work. For a woman, anyway.

	"Look, all I need is for you not to tell anyone. It's worth
ten bucks for you to cover for me. The important thing is that you
keep an eye open for the boss coming back early from the meeting and
maybe dropping into the bank on his way home. He never has done yet
but it might happen sometime. If it does just ring the office bell
under the counter and then keep him talking as long as you can. It
doesn't have to be all that long because I always keep most of my
clothes on - all except the really important bits."

	I recall how she'd giggled in amusement at her own bravado.
I'd thought she was a silly little girl who was one day going to
miserably sad about how she'd sacrificed her virtue for a few dollars.
Yes, I know, it sounds like a story that should have dragons and
knights in shining armor in it, but the world was different then, or
at least a lot of us  thought it was. Anyway, if anybody wants to look
for a moral in all this, Collette is now worth millions whilst I'm
still looking after other peoples' money.

	At the time though I was as stuck up and snotty as only a
young fool can be. I'd said that I didn't want her dollars and
whatever she did with Mr Kalvos was her business and nothing to do
with me.

	"Well, suit yourself," Collette had answered cheerfully.
"Susie, the last girl, she had a different ideas altogether. I'd
better not tell you about what the pair of us got up to though, or
you'll be really shocked."

	Shocked! - and this was the same girl I'd seen carrying the
collection plate around in church on Sunday!

	"But you won't tell on me?"

	"No, I won't say anything - but, Collette, isn't it - well,
awful - to do it with an old man? An older man, anyway."

	That had amused her a lot: "Yvonne, Georgie is a wonderful
lover. If you ever find a man half as good you'll be lucky. Anyway,
always remember, the older the man is the more likely he is to be
telling you the truth about his vasectomy!"

	It was a conversation which made me think I still had a lot to
learn about life. It was also a long time before I got to sleep that
night - especially as it was a Wednesday night. You could say I was
gripped by a lot of conflicting emotions. But for all my brave words
it was my curiousity which was most stirred. I'd always thought sex
for normal women was all to do with marriage and white gowns and
honeymoons  and lifelong romance - not something to be bought and sold
in a bank office like any other commodity. Or was it all some huge
joke that Collette was playing on me? I finally decided it had to be a
joke, and that she must have a very strange sense of humor.

	Georgie Kalvos arrived precisely when Collette said he would,
and we both called him Mr Kalvos respectfully; after all, he was the
bank's biggest customer. Even so, with just the three of us there, I
would have expected to see some signs of the relationship Collette had
told me about.  I was more sure than ever that it had all been a joke.

	On the other hand things continued to go exactly as Collette
had predicted. They went off to the manager's office together and
after I'd locked the front doors and emptied the cash registers they
were still in there. Almost a quarter of an hour by then. Something
more than checking the payroll had to be going on in there, but what?
Where they really having sex together, or was Collette teaching him
double entry book keeping or something?

	It was driving me crazy, not knowing. There was a way to find
out though - just to slip out very quietly into the corridor and
listen for a few seconds. Whatever was going on in the office, I
should get a clue to it from some very discreet eavesdropping. I'd
like to say I had to struggle with my conscience before I decided on
that course of action, but the truth is that my conscience was as
curious as the rest of me.

	When I tiptoed out into the gloomy corridor I was totally
surprised to find that the manager's office door was half opened. What
was more, I could hear Collette muttering softly and giggling. Like a
cat being drawn towards catmint I simply couldn't help taking a few
more steps down the corridor. And what I finally saw made me gasp and
then clasp my hands to my mouth to belatedly stifle the sound. For
Collette was bent over the desk, her back to the door. She was still
wearing the white crisp blouse which, with a dark skirt, was the
bank's summer uniform. But she certainly wasn't wearing her skirt,
just a wispy pair of  black panties, a black suspender belt and
uniform issue dark stockings. It was a sight which made my heart jump,
my mouth go dry and set my legs trembling.

	For some reason I had a sudden mental picture of Collette
standing in her booth and calmly serving the customers the way she was
now, perfectly normal from the waist up and  practically naked below.
In fact I'd never before seen panties like the ones she was wearing,
of the thinnest silk and briefest cut imaginable, panties which looked
as if they would float like thistle seed if somebody threw them into
the air. In fact that seemed to be exactly their raison d'etre, to be
dragged off their wearer and tossed carelessly aside by some lust
crazed male. Even at the time I couldn't help wondering where the shop
was that she'd bought them from.

	George appeared in the doorway, also with his back to me. In
his hand were what looked like a wad of bills. I saw him take one of
them in his other hand, fold it and slip it into Collette's stocking
tops. Then the same hand lifted up and gently caressed the gusset of
her panties. Collette giggled again, stirred around on the desk top
and then hissed approvingly. Her well rounded buttocks lifted up
higher in an obvious invitation to Georgie's fingers, which probed a
line of blonde curls that had suddenly appeared in the panties. I
found myself blushing at the sight.

	For a second or so I actually thought  her underwear had split
open, until I realised that they had an open  gusset, that the panties
were actually designed that way, to reveal much more than they hid. At
least my curiousity was satisfied now about whether Georgie and
Collette were indeed having an affair. What also amazed me was that
they hadn't even bothered to close the door properly. Still, they
certainly hadn't seen me and all I had to do was to creep away softly
from this embarrassing situation.

	And it was then, when I tried to back away, that I found out
how big a mistake I'd made. Because the hem of my skirt tugged around
my legs when I tried to step back, just as a bell tinkled inside the
office. I gasped in horror and tried to flee but my dammed skirt
seemed to be stuck in mid-air, and then I heard the sound of tearing
cloth as the bell kept on tinkling. Georgie had already swung around
towards the doorway. Panic stricken by then, I bent over and brushed
my hands over the places where the skirt seemed to be held, then
yelped as something small but viciously sharp caught at my right palm.
The door flew open, casting more light into the corridor and finally
letting me see what was happening.

	On each white painted wall were tiny pieces of  clear sticky
tape, opposite to each other and about two feet above the carpet.
Stretched between them was a length of very fine black fishing line
which had been  invisible in the dimly lit corridor. And hanging from
every inch of the line were tiny black painted hooks with four barbs
sticking out of each of them, barbs with extremely sharp points. It
was these which had gotten caught up in my skirt. In total panic I
made one last desperate attempt to pull free of the hooks and achieved
nothing but making one or two more rips in it.
	
	 The bell tinkled again as if an impatient customer was
waiting and Georgie's laughter echoed it. He bent down and picked up
another length of fishing line which was obviously attached to the one
with the hooks on. The other end was just as obviously attached to the
bell in the office.

	Standing there with my mouth hanging open I stared at the
man's grinning face as I realised I had stumbled into a trap, a simple
but very effective one which had snared me as easily as a rabbit in a
noose. Not only trapped, but warning Georgie and Collette that I was
standing out in the corridor like a fool! How much of a fool I felt I
can only leave to your imagination.

	Before I could even think of anything to say Georgie walked
towards me, grabbed my wrists, pulled me towards him and kissed me
full on the lips. A mingled and overpowering aroma of spearmint
mouthwash and garlic went into my nose and deep down into my lungs as
I made a futile attempt to push him away. It was like trying to shove
a wall over. He simply lifted my wrists up over my shoulders without
the slightest effort, as though he were dangling a rag doll.

	"Beautiful girl, Yvonne. I like you so much," he said happily.

	Behind him Collette was standing in the doorway, apparently
not embarrassed at all about the way she was dressed or what I'd seen
them doing. "I thought you'd come and have a look. That's great, now
you can see as much as you like."

	"No, I don't want to see anything," I protested, still
squirming ineffectually in Georgie's iron grip.

	"Then how come we've caught you snooping on us? That wasn't
what I asked you to do, that was something you decided to do yourself.
Keep her there, Georgie."

	Collette walked towards me, around me, so she was facing
George, then quite calmly started undoing my belt!

	"What do you think you're doing!" I protested.

	Collette answered me in a totally unsympathetic way: "Sorry,
but I guess you've landed yourself right in it now, Yvonne. Don't
panic though, nobody is going to hurt you."

	My muscles tensed, ready to fight or flee. But how could I do
either with Georgie holding my arms and my toes hardly touching the
ground.?

	"As for what we're doing, we're protecting ourselves, Yvonne."
Collette continued briskly. "Look, this is a pretty dangerous game
Georgie and I are playing. If his wife were to find out about this
we'd have the Trojan wars all over again.  Personally, I want to start
my own business soon and I'll probably need a bank loan. I wouldn't
have much chance of getting one if I was remembered as the girl who
got fired from a bank herself for getting screwed by the customers. So
we have to be careful."

	I made one more attempt to wriggle free from Georgie and then
instantly stopped as Collette unhooked the hook and eye at the skirt's
waist. One more such movement and it was clear that my skirt was going
to slip down.

	"Now, if you hadn't come into the corridor we wouldn't have
bothered about you. After all you couldn't have seen anything so you
couldn't have said for certain that anything was really going on. But
you did come near the office, you did see what was happening. It's a
problem for us then, to make sure you don't tell anybody else."

	"You left the goddammed door open, didn't you? I wouldn't have
seen anything but for that!"

	Collette laughed at my anger, reached out and toyed with my
zipper tab. 

	"No you wouldn't have seen anything, so you would have crept
up closer to the door and listened instead, and you would have been
just as certain about what was going. We left the door open so that if
the bell was rung we could be out in the corridor before you ran away.
Truth to tell, I didn't think the fishhooks would work as well as they
did. They were Georgie's idea when we were planning this."

	"What do you mean, planning it?"

	"Well, it wouldn't have been much of a plan if you'd stayed
out front as you were supposed to. There wouldn't have been any
problem either about you telling tales on us."

	I hastily shook my head in rebuttal: "There isn't any problem.
I won't tell anyone, I promise."

	"Yeah, Yvonne maybe, but Georgie and I would be much surer of
that if you had as much to lose as we do." She jerked the zipper down
and tweaked the pleats on the skirt. 

	Even at that moment I was surprised about how Georgie was just
standing there, letting Collette do all the talking. I had already
begun to realise how strong a personality she had. Now I had a
demonstration of  how ruthless she was as well as my skirt dropped
down around my feet. Georgie laughed and said something in Greek which
sounded as if he was pleased. His head was bent forward as he looked
down at my legs.

	"Oh, he likes you alright. He's been hoping like hell you'd
come along, haven't you, Georgie?"

	I tried to speak calmly: "Please, Collette, what is it you
want me to do?"

	She gave a little half smile,  put her hands on my hips,
lifted them underneath my shirt, her fingertips scratched at my skin,
and then went down into the tops of my panties.

	"Collette, no!"

	"Ten...nine...eight....seven...and still coming down!"
Collette mocked me as she pulled my underwear down around my legs.
Georgie whoofed with glee at what she was doing. Because I was
stretched up the bottom of my shirt had been lifted halfway up my
bottom and between the shirt and my stocking tops I was now totally
naked. It was all a nightmare, impossible, that I could be displayed
like this in front of a leering old man.

	"Collete, you're a bitch, a slut!" I cursed her.

	"And you're a miserable fucking bitch, Yvonne. For God's sake
put a smile on your face and enjoy the party. And don't worry, you can
come as you are."

	She laughed at the expression on my face, knelt down and
finished slipping the panties down to ankle height: "Off the deck,
please, Georgie."

	"OK", Georgie responded, lifting me completely off the carpet
for the second it took Collette to slip the waistband over my uniform
lace-up shoes. She knelt back and jerked the fishing line free of the
wall, then stood up holding my skirt and panties. "So that's it,
Georgie. You can let her go now."
 
	My heels fell back onto the carpet with a perceptible jolt as
he released me: "You are OK, Yvonne?"

	I'd actually started to massage  my wrists before I realised
how my shirt was still rucked up around my middle and hastily tugged
it down. Even with my shirt held down at full stretch and bending
forward I was  barely decent.

	Collette stepped past and looked scornful: "You live in
perpetual fear of giving any man any pleasure, don't you, Yvonne?"

	"Give me my clothes back."

	"Hmmm....maybe your skirt, later. Maybe; but not these." She
smiled and held up my panties, turning over the waistband and looking
at them closely. "When you were unpacking in your room I noticed this
neat habit you have of inking your name on all your clothing. It's a
hangover from school camp days you've got to learn to abandon, Yvonne.
The last thing a smart young lady should is to put her name in indian
ink on her undies. You never know where they may turn up. Like these,
for example."

	"What do you mean?"

	"I mean that I'm going to put these and your skirt away in the
safe and keep them locked up until Georgie and I are finished.
Afterwards, I'll give you your skirt back but not these little
charmers. Right at the back of the safe are a pile of mortgage files
that usually only get taken out once every six months. So I'm going to
tuck these away in those files. Which will make it an interesting
situation, because there's only two keys to the safe, the manager's
and mine. If you keep quiet about Georgy and me I'll take these out
before the mortgages get checked. On the other hand, if rumors should
start up in the town about wild goings on in the bank, then old
pumkin-head might get a tip-off to take a close look inside his safe.
Maybe he'll get a notion you somehow managed to plant your panties
inside it because you've got an uncontrollable passion for him."

	Collette laughed at the idea, and no wonder. The manager was
so fat he could hardly waddle and his  head did look uncannily like a
halloween mask. Not that it stopped him making fresh remarks to all
the girls, which was about the only fresh thing about him, as he had a
body odour problem like a garbage truck. As for the idea of him
finding my underwear tucked away in the back of the office safe -
well, the ensuing interview was just unimaginable!

	"Collette -you can't do that! Please!"

	Her response was to bend down in front of the safe and to put
away not only my skirt but hers as well, folding them up neatly as she
did so. With George standing beside her there was no way I could even
try to stop her.  Then she pulled out a couple of the files from the
back of the safe and made a big thing of blowing dust off the covers.

	"If you think about things for a few minutes, Yvonne, I guess
you'll soon realise there's a way I don't have to do this. After all,
it would be a pity for all of us if pumpkin-head were to find these
accidentally through spring cleaning his safe or something." She
pushed the panties inside one of the covers and replaced the files.

	It seemed clear enough, even in my naivete, what she was
suggesting. I didn't want to say it out openly though, that if I did
for Georgie what she was clearly prepared to do for him, then I would
be just as implicated as she was. And if I was as guilty as she was
there'd be no need for any blackmailing items left in the safe because
there was no way I would dare talk about any of this.

	Georgie grinned at me as Collette relocked the safe and stood
up,  hanging the key back around her neck on a thin silver chain. As
soon as she was upright he grunted impatiently, caught her by the
scruff of her neck and pushed her back towards the desk. Collette
giggled and leaned forward over the side, in the same position as when
I'd first seen her. Georgie went down on his knees, hooked his fingers
into the split gusset of her panties, pulled them apart and then
buried his face into her bottom like a bear snuffling for honey.
Collette laughed and raised her buttocks again to give him room to
work. She looked to her side, towards me, with a sardonic smile.

	"Haven't you run away, yet, Yvonne?"

	"No," I replied, my mouth incredibly dry. "No, I haven't run
away. How far could I run, dressed like this?"

	Collette giggled, partly at what I was saying and partly
because of what Georgie's tongue was doing to her. "Why don't you make
yourself useful, then? Go to the other side of the desk, where Georgie
can see you, and take off your shirt for him."

	It seemed to take ages before my feet began moving. Even
longer before I was standing in front of Collette's head with
Georgie's keen eyes looking up at me like a feeding eagle's from over
her prone back. My eye was caught by a length of thin black thread
which went from underneath the desk to the top handle of the filing
cabinet, a small shiny bell like a christmas tree decoration hanging
from it. Obviously it was the bell I'd heard giving the alarm when I'd
been caught. Once again I felt angry astonishment at how easily I'd
fallen into the trap. But I'd only fallen into the trap because I'd
fallen into temptation and now I must do my penance.

	Standing behind the manager's padded chair, I was just about
decently shielded as I began to unbutton the front of my shirt.
Colette was glancing up frequently and still gasping in delight at
Georgie's handiwork - tongue work - whilst I worked my way down the
buttons, wondering how it could be that I was managing to undo them
with my fingers trembling so much. When I slipped the shirt off my
arms and put it down across the top of the chair, I was left with only
my bra and jewellery above my waist, and only my stockings and
suspenders behind the chair.

	"Very nice girl, Yvonne. You are very beautiful." I looked up
from my discarded shirt and saw that Georgie was leaning back on his
haunches, open mouthed and his swarthy face even darker than I could
remember seeing it before. Both of his hands were exploring Collette
where his mouth has just been, though it seemed to be something he was
less interested in doing so than in looking and talking to me.

	"Turn that chair around and sit on it," Collette demanded. 

	Wondering what she had in mind I did as she wanted, now with
my back to her. I heard her moving and felt her behind me, just before
the chair was dragged around again. Collette had turned it, with
Georgie still on the other side of the desk, standing now and grinning
widely at me as I made a last futile effort to protect my modesty by
putting my hands in my lap.  Her sharp fingernails dug into my
earlobes, painfully.

	"Hands on top of the armrests, honey, and knees wide apart.
Here's where the fun really starts for you."

	Georgie sank back down onto the carpet, behind the desk and
out of sight, before appearing again as he crawled underneath it, his
thick black hair moving up between my not quite so black stockings. I
felt the tickling of his mustache's ends against my sensitive skin and
gasped.  Georgie laughed, pressed against me even closer and put his
tongue against my bush of pubic hairs, dampening them. At the same
moment he released a catch on the side of the chair which he seemed to
be very familiar with and I slumped backwards. When the chair had
settled back into the new position I could see Collette looking down
at me with interest, and Georgie's face peering up at me with even
more interest. 

	"It's like being in a dentist's chair, but without the pain,
just lots of pleasure," Collette encouraged me. "All we need now is a
couple more adjustments. Lift your legs up and put them on the desk."

	Georgie's hands seemed remarkably rough and calloused as he
put them behind my knees, on the soft hot skin underneath the nylon
stockings. He helped me lift my legs up until I could rest the heels
of my shoes on  top of the desk, and I hoped to God I wasn't marking
the polished wooden surface. Georgie seemed far more interested in the
wet mark he'd made on me, blowing softly on the place. This couldn't
be happening, not in the bank, not with a man's eyes only inches away
from the most intimate part of my body, not with his breath fluttering
against a dampness that was more and more my own involuntary reaction
to that first touch of his tongue.

	 It all seemed so much a lunatic's dream that I hardly noticed
Collette unhooking the front of my bra and pulling the cups apart.
Georgie looked up and flashed his white teeth as Collette's
fingernails clamped themselves like kitten's claws around my
tightening nipples. "OK, Georgie boy, I've kept my side of the deal.
She's all yours."

	Again I felt the stiff hairs on Georgie's upper lip scratching
me, again I felt the warmth and wetness of his tongue working against
me, probings its target area with practised skill. It was like having
an electric eel swimming into me, an indescribable sensation.

	"Deal - what deal?" I gasped

	"Oh, Georgie always paid a nice fat bonus for the fun of
fucking me and Susie together. As soon as he saw you he offered me the
same deal again if I could get you to join in. And it looks as if he's
going to have to pay up."

	"No - no. I won't..." Even as I was making the denial I was
gripping the armrests of the chair like an astronaut during blastoff
and beginning to moan with pleasure. Colette nipped my trapped nipples
in her nails and chuckled.

	"Yeah, sure, honey, you're just cock teasing him and there's
no way you're going to get fucked every which way. To tell the the
truth though, from where I'm standing it looks like money in the
bank."

	Georgie leaned back and looked up at me, as if  judging the
results of his handiwork so far. His hands settled on my thighs, slid
over the stocking tops, the thumbs touched my pussy and spread the
lips apart as if  he was opening an oyster before tasting the meat
inside.

	"Yvonne, you are a beautiful girl, and I think this is your
first time with a man, yes?"

	I didn't want to say anything, I only nodded, and Collette
whooped with joy, giving me two more painful pinches. "Oh, great,
another bonus! I just wish I could put it on your cubicle card for the
customers to read - bank teller in training and recent ex-virgin!"

	Georgie leaned forward again, licking me until I was wriggling
around in the chair, the regular creaking noise from underneath it
counterpointing my panting as I wondered how much more of this I could
stand. Not only was that tongue driving me crazy, Collette was
continually flicking at my straining nipples with her nails. She
chuckled as she saw my fingers stroking through Georgie's hair and
heard me whimpering like a trapped animal.

	"Honey,  I think I'd better get the altar ready so we can
sacrifice a virgin who looks like she badly needs it!"

	Collette was absolutely right, of course, by then I wanted
Georgie Kalvos more than I'd ever wanted anything in my life, more
than I'd believed it was possible to want anything. Watching with
bulging eyes I saw her go to the sofa at the side of the office, pick
up the square seat squabs and put them down on the top of the desk,
only pausing for a second as I suddenly squealed. Georgie had pushed a
massive finger straight up my bottom and I was clenched around it like
a thanksgiving turkey being stuffed. When he scratched me inside with
his fingernail I arched back so much I thought the chair was going to
topple over.

	"Behave yourself, Georgie," Collette said mildly as if he was
a naughty schoolboy. "I think you need to lie down and regain your
strength for a minute or two."

	As always, he did as she told him, and did it straight away,
coming out from underneath the desk and standing up. At least it was a
relief to have that finger removed.

	"That's the wonderful thing about men," Collette said to me.
"As long as they can screw themseves stupid they're as easy to control
as carthorses. Just remember, Yvonne, men are tool using animals and
women are men using animals."

	There never was any doubt about Collette, she was a natural
born brothel keeper right from the beginning. Going back to the sofa
she collected the two loose cushions and stacked them at one end of
the desk.

	"I suppose I'd better undress you as well, hadn't I?" She was
speaking to Georgie again as if he was a little boy, smirking like an
indulgent mother as she showed her skill at loosening belts again,
this time the one around Georgie's pants.  Then she glanced at me,
expression and voice changing instantly as if she was talking to a
slave.

	"Yvonne, kneel down here and unlace Georgie's shoes."

	I struggled to get out of the chair, walked unsteadily around
the desk and got down on the carpet in front of them. I had a sudden
fear I was going to pull at the wrong ends of the laces..........
