*************** ADULTS ONLY ***************
The Lovable Ladies of Libido Lane
(C) by Erotin Thraller
*********************************************

Chapter 09 - The Realtor

Scene 1, Arrival

The house was empty.  I mean there was absolutely nothing in it.  
Not only was there no furniture, but every closet was empty, the 
cupboards clean, and the floors were swept, scrubbed, and shined.  
In most ways, it was actually in very good shape for showing, 
just as it was.  But I was not about to tell anyone that because 
then I would not have a job, and I can always use the money.  

You see, I'm a stager, at least that's the term now used to 
describe my vocation.  Please note there's only one "g" in the 
word, although more than once people have accused me of 
staggering.  I know, the dictionary says a stager is a person who 
possesses wisdom from long experience, and I suppose in a way 
that's true.  Yes, I do have experience, but in a specialized 
way.  As a stager, my job is to prepare a house to make such a 
good impression on potential buyers that they will want to 
purchase it.  People will pay more for a nicely staged house, one 
which looks ready to move in, rather than one which demands hours 
of preparatory labor.  I can increase the value of a house an 
amazing amount simply by adding a few shrubs to the yard, 
changing colors in a room, or adding the proper furniture.  
Usually I get a base fee plus a percentage of the additional 
profit, which provides me with a very good living.

Oh, let me introduce myself.  My name is William H. Yandell, and 
if you make a crack about my initials, I'll give you why!  My 
hair is dark brown; I'm 6'2" and weigh 190.  Perhaps you think 
it's odd that I would go into the home decorating business, but 
I've found my size comes in mighty handy when the time comes to 
move furniture.  All that lifting keeps me in shape a whole lot 
better than working out in some gym.  It pays better too, and I'm 
quite pleased with the result in how I look.  Please pardon my 
personal pride.

So, like I said earlier, the house was empty.  This was a new 
job, the first time I had any occasion to be on Libido Lane so I 
double checked the number.  It was 97205, the second house on the 
left.  Nancy had arranged for me to meet her there so we could 
inspect the place together and make initial improvement 
suggestions.  It was late afternoon, and my stomach was beginning 
to look forward to dinner.  Nancy was already standing on the 
front steps when I arrived, apparently trying to get her keys to 
open the lock box.  I parked behind her Buick Lucerne, and as I 
swung down out of my van I heard her exclaim, "There!"  She swung 
the front door open, then waited for me, holding the door open as 
I crossed the lawn and climbed the steps.

Nancy Porter is probably the top realtor in the city.  Actually, 
she's ranked among the top ten realtors in the entire county.  
She sells so many houses that she can afford to work at least a 
percentage lower on each sale than most realtors, and that gives 
her even more business.  Many realtors are jealous of her, but 
that's all right.  Especially with me since, besides her 
professional qualities, she's mighty easy to look at.  I mean, 
she's about 5'5" with natural blonde hair that's so long she can 
almost sit on it.  Not only is her hair long, but so are her 
legs.  They are disproportionately long for her height.  As she 
stood there on the porch, I took note that she was dressed in a 
dark blue power suit, obviously tailored.  The brief blazer was 
buttoned high and tight, accenting her bust but revealing only a 
hint of cleavage, much less than was popular with the current 
style.  Her skirt fitted snugly around her hips, then swept in a 
straight line down to well below her knees.  She's one of those 
few women who were apparently born wearing high heels.  I've 
never seen her in anything else, and those heels shape her legs, 
at least what of them are showing, until they look good enough to 
eat.  The total effect meant that simply being around her seems 
always to set my imagination on edge.  Nevertheless, through 
considerable effort on my part, we have maintained a strictly 
professional attitude toward one another, an attitude I work very 
hard to maintain, for obvious financial reasons.

She was all business as I approached the porch, and she smiled at 
me sweetly as I brushed past her and entered the house.  "As you 
can see," she began, suddenly all business, "the cleaning crew 
was already here.  The house is empty and polished, ready and 
waiting for your magic touch."

"So I see," I told her, forcing myself to turn my attention away 
from her in order to survey our surroundings.  The architecture 
was non-descript, typical of the cracker-box pressed-wood frame 
houses going up in every suburb in the country.  Nothing about 
the house itself made it appealing, a fact the owners had 
apparently recognized, which is why they agreed to have me stage 
the property for them.  The first floor had the usual kitchen, 
laundry-mud room, living room and bath.  A little deck out back 
was the only attractive feature.  The owners had probably added 
it on their own.  A couple of shrubs and a few perennials graced 
the tiny lawn.

"You'll want to see upstairs," Nancy suggested and led the way to 
the staircase.  I followed her, almost tripping on the first 
step, mostly because I was not really looking where I was going.  
Instead, I had been looking up, watching the sway of her hips, 
bound in her tight skirt, as she lifted her legs one step at a 
time to climb the stairs.  No panty line, I noted, which caused 
me to wonder what Nancy might be wearing beneath that long, tight 
skirt.  That's when I tripped.  When I looked up, I realized she 
had turned to watch me.  A faint smile of amusement played across 
her lips.  For a moment, I thought she might be angry, but 
instead she laughed.  "Should I have allowed you to lead the 
way?"

"Oh, no, this is fine," I assured her.  She laughed again as she 
proceeded quickly around the landing, then up to the top of the 
stairs.  I followed more slowly, pausing to consider how the 
landing might be improved with a little enhancement.  She was 
nowhere to be seen when I reached the second floor.  Two doors 
were standing open, allowing me to see into non-descript square 
bedrooms.  Like the rest of the house, they were boxy little 
cells, completely empty.  A third door was closed, and I pushed 
it open, assuming it was the master bedroom.  As I entered, my 
head received a terrific blow.  The lights went out.

Sometime later, I'm not sure how long, I woke up on the floor.  
My head hurt terribly.  I was stiff.  And cold.  I pulled my legs 
up under me, starting to stand up.  It was then I realized that I 
was completely naked.  While I was unconscious, someone had 
removed all my clothes.  I was completely bare!  Moving made my 
head hurt even more.  I reached up to rub my head where it hurt, 
but something jerked at my arm, pulling it up short.  There was a 
handcuff on my wrist.

"Ooh, don't do that," a voice complained.  My brain was still 
foggy, so I turned slowly, trying to focus on the source of the 
voice, finally realizing it belonged to Nancy.  She was sitting 
beside me on the floor, and the movement of my arm had jerked her 
wrist.  As my eyes began to focus, I realized we were handcuffed 
together.  That was not all I could see, for Nancy was just as 
naked as I was.  

Scene 2, Naked

"I wondered when you would finally come around," Nancy stated 
flatly.  Her voice conveyed no emotion.  "You took quite a blow."  
She had her legs pulled up under her and her free arm tucked up 
tight to her chests, obviously trying to shield her breasts from 
my vision.

"It must have been," I agreed.  "My head hurts."  I struggled to 
turn enough to bring myself to a sitting position.  "What 
happened?  And why are we here without any clothes?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," she explained, which I took as 
no explanation at all.

"Who hit me?  Did you hit me?" I asked, unwilling, even in my 
foggy state of mind, to believe she would do such a thing.

"No, when I came through the door, I saw three men.  Two had 
guns, and they were aimed right at me.  I think they were using 
the house to repackage pills.  You know, drugs.  There were a lot 
of little plastic bags all over the floor.  I thought they were 
going to shoot me, but one of them grabbed me.  He held his hand 
over my mouth so I couldn't warn you.  Then you came in, and the 
other one hit you."

"Did they hurt you?"

"No, but they made me remove your clothes.  Then they made me 
undress.  After that, they handcuffed us together.  All I could 
do was just sit here beside you while they packed up their stuff 
and left.  They took everything, even our clothes.  Are you all 
right?  You lay so still I was afraid they had killed you.  So I 
checked your breathing, and it seemed regular enough.  All I knew 
to do was just wait for you to come around."

"Well, we need to get out of here.  I have some spare clothes in 
my van," I offered.

"Do you think your head's clear enough to stand?" Nancy asked.

"I hope so, but we'll have to work together, unless they left you 
a key to these cuffs."

"No such luck," she complained, raising her right arm.  It was 
securely fastened to my left arm, for which I was momentarily 
pleased because I'm right-handed and that arm was free.  

"Okay, together now," I instructed.  And together we stood.  The 
process meant losing any sense of dignity or modesty we might 
previously have tried to maintain.  It also meant I got a really 
good look at Nancy.  I mean, every part of her was right out 
there in the open for me to see.  And look is what I did.  The 
first to catch my attention were her breasts.  There they were, 
bare and bouncy, swaying with each move she made.  I'm not good 
at guessing size, but they were certainly more than a handful.  
Each.  A lovely pair of twins.  Suddenly I remembered earlier 
having wondered what Nancy was wearing under her skirt.  Whatever 
it was, it was gone, and I couldn't help but smile.  Then, as I 
surveyed the rest of her body, I foolishly spoke without 
thinking, "Nancy, you're not blonde all over, are you?"

"I was afraid you would say that," she laughed, reaching down 
momentarily with her free hand to fluff her puff of black pubic 
hair.  Then she looked straight at me, still running her fingers 
through the curls of her hair.  Then, pointing at my erection, 
she said bluntly, "Thank you for the compliment.  I do appreciate 
it."  She grinned broadly, and for a moment I thought she was 
going to grasp it.  No such luck.

"Yeah," I said, "there are times he seems to have a mind of his 
own."  Nancy frowned, so I added, "But right now I certainly 
share his opinion.  You're lovely.  Absolutely lovely."  

She ignored my statement and tugged at my handcuff as she pulled 
me toward the bathroom.   "Do you suppose they left anything we 
can use to cover up?" she asked.   

We checked the linen closet, towel racks, top shelves in the 
closets, everywhere, but there was nothing.  "I never thought I'd 
say this," Nancy complained, "but it looks like our cleaning crew 
was much too thorough.  They didn't even leave a dust rag."

"Maybe downstairs," I suggested.  "I'm not sure I'm ready to go 
prancing across the lawn to my van quite like this."

"Me either."  She led the way, sort of, since neither of us could 
get very far from the other, linked as we were together by the 
chain on our wrists.  This time we took the stairs together, 
which in itself was an interesting experience, for the steps were 
narrow enough that we kept rubbing against each other.  
Frustrated though I was, I found the contact between our naked 
bodies to be quite enjoyable.  And I noticed she was not trying 
to avoid the contact.

A search of the downstairs turned up nothing.  The kitchen 
cupboards were empty and clean.  So were the  bathroom cabinets.  
Even the garage had been emptied.

"Isn't it amazing," I commented as we wandered back into the 
living room, how many things we take for granted.  Like the stuff 
in my pockets.  I always have a knife with me.  But now...?"

"I keep a screwdriver in a kitchen drawer at home," she 
volunteered.  "Now we have nothing.  How in the world did that 
cleaning crew empty this place out so completely?"  For awhile, 
we simply stood and stared, first at the room, then at each 
other.  Suddenly, Nancy exclaimed, "The windows!"

"What about them?"

"They're open," she gasps.  Indeed they were, not the panes, as 
if to let in air, but the windows were totally devoid of any 
decorative treatments.  No blinds, no drapes, no curtains.  Just 
bare glass open to the street beyond.

"For a moment," Nancy gasped, "I could see us wrapping ourselves 
in the draperies, then running across the lawn to our cars.  No 
such luck.  The cleaning crew took them to be pressed."  The 
chain jerked against my wrist as she clasped both her hands over 
her breasts.  "Damn!" she exploded.  "We're in a totally clean 
house with not a stitch of fabric to cover us.  Now what do we 
do?"

"Make a run for it?" I asked, halfheartedly.  It was then I 
realized the street out front was as empty as the house.  "My van 
is gone!"  I dragged her protesting to the window and looked out.

"So is my Buick!" exclaimed Nancy.  

"Those low-down dirty thieves!  They took our clothes, and they 
stole our cars."

"And we worried about getting across the lawn to our cars.  Now 
it looks like we may have to streak all the way across town.  To 
my office.  Or to my home."  She collapsed against me, her head 
buried against my chest.  Sobbing, she moaned, "Oh, Bill, what 
are we going to do?"

Scene 3, Strategy

The soft warmth of her naked body sent chills all the way through 
mine.  I felt the soft mounds of her breasts press against me, 
and then realized my erection was reaching full strength.

"When are the cleaners due back with the drapes?" I ask, suddenly 
inspired with the hope of our being rescued by only a few people 
who might see us.

"Not until next week," Nancy sobbed against my chest.  "And I'm 
afraid I will be mighty hungry before then."

My eyes focused on the phone jack on the wall.  "There's not even 
a phone in the house.  Oh, for the old days when Ma Bell owned 
phones, and people left them when they moved away."

"I left my purse in the car, so now they have it.  And my cell 
phone was in my skirt pocket, which they also took."

"I didn't think there was room in your skirt for a pocket," I 
teased, trying to dissuade her from crying any more.

"I thought you liked my skirt," she chuckled softly.  "You sure 
stared at it enough."

"It was not the skirt I was looking at," I admitted.  "I was 
speculating on what was in it."

"Well, now you know," she said, pulling away and holding her 
hands as far wide as our cuffs would allow.  "Now you can see," 
she forced a grin as she cocked her naked hips to one side 
seductively.  "Are you satisfied?"

"With you, yes.  Definitely.  You're all I ever dreamed you would 
be.  And a lot more.  But these are not the conditions in which I 
can enjoy you completely."

"I agree."

"You must have had quite a time when they told you to undress 
me."

"It was weird," she frowned.  "I mean, really weird.  At first, I 
was afraid I might hurt you, rolling you around and trying to get 
your clothes off.  You were so totally out of it, and it was 
pretty obvious that you didn't have a clue what was going on."  
She frowned again.  "Anyway, it was kind of interesting, 
wondering what I would discover under your clothes."

"I'm sure," I mumbled, wondering how I might have reacted had our 
roles been reversed.  "Now here we are.  Stripped and stranded.  
Any ideas on what we should do next?"  I could not keep myself 
from laughing.

 "What's so funny?" Nancy demanded.  

"Oh, I was just remembering an old movie title: 'What Do You Say 
to a Naked Lady?'"

"It must have been before my time."

"Remember Candid Camera?  About the time that series ended, I saw 
an interview with Alan Funt.  He said that all during the run of 
that television series he kept wanting to capture the reaction of 
people encountering naked ladies.  Of course, they couldn't 
broadcast anything like that, but near the end of his career, he 
finally made his dream into a movie.  It included a lot of very 
really funny, very naked, episodes."

"Yeah, I'm sure," Nancy muttered, unconvinced.

"One sequence involved people waiting for an elevator.  When the 
car arrived and the doors opened, a naked lady would emerge and 
ask directions to one of the offices.  Talk about double-takes 
...when the people saw her, a few were embarrassed, a few were 
angry, and a couple of guys simply stood there and stared."

"How do you suppose you would have reacted?"

"Well, Nancy, how did I react ...I mean, when I saw you ...you know, 
upstairs on the floor?"

"You tried to pretend I was still fully clothed, but you couldn't 
help staring.  Before you realized it, you had a massive hard-
on."  She laughed, "Go on.  Admit it."

"Why not?  How else did you expect me to react?  You're a very 
beautiful lady.  With or without clothes."

"Thank you, Bill.  Now," she added, pulling away from the window, 
"I think we ought to get away from these windows before someone 
walks by and sees us standing here naked as two....  Oh!  What's 
the expression?  Two jailbirds?"

"Jaybirds.  "Naked as a jaybird"  I think that's how it goes.  
Only right now you're right.  I feel more like a jailbird, locked 
together like we are.  And trapped in here."

"I saw a cartoon once," Nancy chuckled.  "It showed a lady on the 
front porch wearing nothing but a really thin night gown.  She 
had apparently gone outside to pick up the morning newspaper, but 
the door had shut behind her.  It closed on her gown.  So she was 
not only locked out, but her gown was caught so that she couldn't 
leave the door.  I thought it was funny, until I began trying to 
decide what I would do in her place.  Would I take off my gown?  
Or would I rip off the part that was stuck in the door?"

"So what did you decide?  What would you have done?"

"Well, finally, I decided the best thing to do was take off the 
gown and wrap myself in the newspaper, then run like crazy around 
the house to the back door."

"Good plan," Bill laughed, "but what if the back door was 
locked?"

"There's always a problem, isn't there?  Like now.  I've been in 
a lot of empty houses, but never did I ever dream of being naked, 
handcuffed to a naked man, in a house that's as naked as we are.  
Good grief!  I'd scream if it thought it would do any good."

"What if we just walked out the door, over to the house next 
door, and asked to use the phone?"

Nancy shook her head.  "They would never let us in."  She paused, 
then added, "Probably call the police."

"Come to think of it, that might not be a bad idea."

"Yeah, sure.  They would take us down to the station, and then 
what?  Remember, we don't have any ID.  We can't prove we have 
any right to be in this house.  We could even end up with our 
picture in the paper.  Think of the headline:  'Naked couple 
arrested for breaking and entering.'"

"Wonder if they would put us in a cell together?"

"We already are, remember?"

"I know one thing, Nancy, and I'm sorry to bring this up."

"What's that?"

"Bathroom.  I have to pee."

"Yeah," she muttered.  "I know the feeling, but I've been putting 
off saying anything."

Scene 4, Bare Necessities

We walked through the kitchen and into the little half-bath in 
the mudroom.  I raised the lid.

"Well, go ahead," Nancy instructed.  "Let's get this over with."

I raised the seat and pointed my peter at the pot.  After several 
moments, there was still no relief.

"What's wrong?" she asked, prancing about impatiently behind me.

"I'm sorry," I whispered.  "I'm not accustomed to having an 
audience."

"Oh," she whispered back, as if mocking me, "I wondered if this 
was standard practice, or if you have a problem."

"No problem, just a little delay."

"You want me to hold it for you?"  She leaned around to look up 
into my eyes.  Her face was beaming as if about to burst into 
all-out laughter.

"Your turn is coming.  Remember?"

"Yes, but I plan to sit down.  That gives me a tad more privacy."  
She paused a moment, than added, "You could sit down if you 
wanted.  Or is standing there with your plumbing in your hand the 
only really macho way to pee?"

Just then, my bladder decided it had waited long enough.  My 
prostate relaxed sufficiently for a respectable stream to spray 
into the stool.

"Careful," Nancy demanded.  "I don't want that stuff all over 
me."

I burst out laughing.

"What's so funny?"

"Oh, I just remembered something I saw years ago penciled behind 
the stool in a public restroom.  It read, 'We aim to please.  You 
aim too, please."

"Very funny."

"Well, you'd never see that in a ladies' room."

"Touchè."

When my bladder had finally emptied, I jiggled the last few drops 
off the end, then suddenly felt strangely awkward about simply 
letting my tool drop.  I mean, usually when I'm done peeing, I 
tuck my equipment back into my pants, but when you're naked, what 
do you do?  Just turn it loose and let it hang?  Awkwardly, I 
simply stepped off to one side out of the way, still holding my 
limp member between my fingers.  "Okay, I'm done," I told Nancy.  
"Here, I'll put the seat down for you."

She frowned up at me as she lowered herself and sat on the stool.  
Almost immediately the sound of running water filled the room, 
and she sighed deeply.  "Oh, that feels good."  I was amazed at 
how long it took for her to finish.  Her bladder must have been a 
lot fuller than mine.  When finally she was done, she reached 
automatically for the toilet paper.  "Look!" she squealed as she 
tore off several sheets, "We have paper.  Do you realize this is 
the first thing we have found in this house which is not nailed 
down or stuck in place?"

"Yeah, I can see you catching a bus across town wearing three 
sheets of toilet paper."

"Under different circumstances, Bill, I'd take that as an 
insult," Nancy laughed, "but considering how we're dressed right 
now, even three sheets would be quite modest.  She flushed the 
toilet.  "Well, now that we've shared these intimate moments 
together, I hope you feel as much better as I do."

So it was, feeling much relieved, we walked somewhat aimlessly 
back into the kitchen, quite unsure what to do next.  I mean, 
what can a couple do when they're locked in together?  With 
neither of them having anything to wear?  And no place they could 
go?  Literally.

"I don't know about you," Nancy spoke softly, "but I'm tired.  
Isn't there some place we can sit down while we talk about what 
we're going to do to get out of here?"

"Well, Madame," I replied in my most dapper voice, "I would offer 
you a chair, but they seem temporarily to be out of stock."  I 
looked around the living room, and the fireplace caught my eye.  
"You're wrong about the toilet paper," I laughed.

"How's that?"

"You said it was the only thing not nailed down.  Well, look at 
the fireplace.  The tools are still here."  Sure enough, the 
three traditional fireplace tools were hanging on pegs set into 
the bricks.  There were tongs, poker, and a brush.

"Yeah, a lot of help they would be for us to cover up and go 
walking down the street."  There was no humor in her voice.

"Well, I just thought it interesting to find something still 
here.

"The stairs," she said.  Her voice had a suddenly optimistic 
list.  "We can sit on the steps."  Indeed, we were standing 
beside the stairway.  While the steps were not the most 
comfortable place to sit, the did provide a nice way to get off 
our feet.  

Scene 5, Carpet

"I'm not accustomed to standing very long in my bare feet," I 
sighed, as I settled down beside Nancy on the second step.

"Well, I'm not accustomed to standing around with my bare ass 
hanging out," she laughed as she nudged me with her shoulder.  

The touch of her skin against mine sent a fresh tingle through my 
body, which reminded me how ridiculous our predicament really 
was.  I turned to look at her and was suddenly aware that outside 
the light was fading.

"I didn't realize it was this late."

"Time really flies when you're having fun," she said flatly.  
"Oh, look," she pointed at the picture window.  "The street light 
is coming on.  What time is it, anyway?"

"I have no idea.  You gave them my watch, remember?"

"Which means there's not a clock in the house.  Oh, the stuff we 
take for granted when suddenly it's all stripped away."

"Your choice of words, Nancy, is picturesquely vivid."

"What do you mean?"

"Stripped.  You said stripped," I reminded her.

"So we are, and now it's getting dark.  Well, at least I'll not 
have to worry about you sitting there staring at my naked body."

"Does that bother you, I mean my looking at you?"

"It did at first, but, well, I guess after awhile a person can 
get used to anything."  She leaned forward and looked back over 
her shoulder so she could see my face.  "You're not so hard to 
look at either."

"Thank you," I replied, wondering if her last comment was meant 
to be a double entendré.

For several minutes we were quiet, then Nancy said, "We came in 
here to talk about what our options are for dealing with this... 
ah, situation."  She shivered. 

"Are you cold?" I asked, "You must be." 

"A little.  Sitting with my bare bottom on these wood steps is 
not the best idea we've had."

"Well, sitting the floor might not be comfortable either," I 
suggested, "but at least that living room carpet should be 
warmer." 

"I agree."  

Together, we rose and moved to the center of the room, where we 
settled on the carpet.  Nancy stretched her long legs out across 
the floor.  I leaned toward her, resting on my elbow so I could 
survey her naked body.  She was beautiful.  Her breasts had 
settled only slightly when she lay back, but they were still firm 
enough to retain their lovely shape.  Her stomach was flat, 
probably the result of hours working out in the gym.  There was 
only a slight curve below her belly button.  Below that, her 
thatch of dark hair covered the mysteries where her torso divided 
into those long, lovely legs.  I couldn't resist.  Almost 
automatically, I ran my hand down across her stomach and brushed 
my fingers through her thatch of pubic hair.

"Quit that!" she snapped.

"Why?" I asked.

"You can look, Bill, but don't touch," she smiled.

"I'm sure you didn't mean that," I whispered in her ear.  Instead 
of  taking my hand away, I ran my fingers down along the inside 
of her legs.

"I really mean it," she whispered back, but even as she spoke her 
legs began to spread slowly apart, making room for my hand 
between them.  I let my fingers descend further, where they 
caressed the folds, which were moist almost to the point of 
dripping.  

"You're beautiful," I whispered in her ear as I separated the 
folds and inserted a finger between them, then pressed it up 
inside her.  She moaned slightly and shifted her hips, spreading 
her legs even farther apart.  I removed my finger, then replaced 
it with two.  She was so lubricated that both slipped in easily.  
Her hips rose to receive them, as I gently massaged the entry.  
Around and around, I moved my fingers, and as I did her breathing 
changed.  She leaned back against my chest and shifted her hips 
to make even more room between her legs for me to enjoy her.  
Against my throat, her breathing became quite heavy.

Suddenly, without warning, Nancy raised up and turned toward me.  
Her face poised just inches above mine as she wrapped one long 
leg over mine.  Her move trapped my hand between her legs as she 
pushed me backward on to the carpet.  Then her mouth found mine, 
and I became so engrossed in what her tongue was doing with mine 
that it was several moments before I realized her free hand had 
become quite busy exploring my erection.

"What would you do if I told you to quit that?" I asked jokingly, 
when she came up for air and momentarily removed her lips from 
mine.

"Ignore you," she whispered, the same way you ignored my request.  
Then she pressed her open mouth firmly over mine.  Her fingers 
never stopped, as she explored the length and girth of my 
manhood.  Then she raised slightly, suddenly all business, except 
I still had two fingers inside her and she still held my erection 
in her hand.  "May I ask you a question, Bill," she asked, 
looking deep into my eyes.  "A very personal question?"

"Right now," I assured her, "you can do anything you like."  I 
caught my breath, as she gently pinched the head of my penis.  
"So long as it doesn't involve leaving here.  Or stopping what 
you're doing."

"That's what I want to ask you about," she continued, suddenly 
pulling away and sitting up.  She lifted my penis with her free 
hand and said, "I think this piece of meat is the most fantastic 
part of the human anatomy.  You probably don't realize how 
fortunate you are to have it.  Whoever conceived the idea of 
turning a woman's vagina inside out and hanging it out in front 
of a man should win the prize for the best invention of the 
millennium."  She laughed, then leaned down and kissed me again.  

"And your question is?" I asked.

"This skin on the end of it ...I presume you were not circumcised 
...is that a problem?"  She looked right into my eyes with such 
intensity that I knew she was not teasing.  "Where is it most 
sensitive?  That's what I want to know."

"Under the skin," I explained.  "The foreskin covers the tip most 
of the time, protecting it, so the head is quite sensitive, not 
like the guys who were circumcised so the head is always 
exposed."

"Okay, I just wondered," she smiled.  She pulled her legs up 
under her and said, "All right, let's see if you're telling the 
truth."  With that, she rolled the skin down the shaft of my 
penis, bent her head quickly, and without another word she took 
me into her mouth.  Earlier, I had been surprised by her tongue's 
gymnastics inside my mouth, but that was nothing compared with 
what her tongue did around the tip of my erection.  I must have 
shuddered, for she lifted her head as she looked at me and asked, 
"Did that feel good?"

"On a scale of one to ten, that was fifty!" I exclaimed in all 
sincerity.

"Good, I'll do it some more, but let's see if I can turn around 
here so you can continue with what you were doing between my 
legs."  She twisted her legs and spread them wide apart as she 
lay on her side.  I turned toward her, and strangely enough, even 
with the handcuffs limiting our movements, we were able to reach 
each other.  My fingers went back inside her love canal, and my 
erection went back inside her mouth as we enveloped each other in 
a passionate, sexual release.  

A moment later, I warned her, "I'm coming.  And we don't have 
anything to clean up the mess."  Then it was too late.  I 
exploded in her mouth, and as I did I realized she was taking in 
all I could give her, swallowing it all.  That only heightened 
the extent of my ejaculation, and she stayed with me until she 
had milked me dry.

"Well," she laughed when I was done, "I don't believe there's 
much left to clean up."  She looked rather proud of herself, and 
if I had been asked I would certainly have agreed.  Without a 
word, I simply twisted around and kissed her lips.  

"Oh, don't think you're getting off that easily," she laughed 
again.  "Now it's my turn."  She twisted around as far as our 
handcuffs would allow, lying on her back and thrusting her pelvis 
up toward me, her legs spread wide.  "Do me," she ordered.  "I 
want your tongue deep inside me."  For a moment, I hesitated, 
thoroughly engrossed by my intimate view of her swollen pussy.  
"Now!" she ordered.  "I don't need an inspection.  I just need 
your mouth down there.  So get with it.  Do me!"

Sometimes the best thing a man can do is obey.  And that turned 
out to be one of those times.  Obedience was no problem because 
she tasted really good.  I mean, if I could bottle her flavor, we 
could make millions.  Use it as a flavor on your pancakes, 
topping on your ice cream, or cream in your coffee.  Think about 
it.  I could hear the commercials:  Let Nancy's Bottom Be Your 
Topping!  Sucking her pussy certainly topped off my day, almost 
as nice as what she had just done for me, which I appreciated so 
much that I did my very best to satisfy her.

She responded in kind.  I mean, she really put herself into it, 
frequently flailing about until several times she jerked my wrist 
which was still handcuffed to her arm.  Finally I caught her 
hand, entwined our fingers, and held her tight.  In fact, I 
decided to maintain that grasp later on, since my wrist was 
beginning to hurt from repeated tugs.  She brought me back to the 
present as she thrust her pelvis hard into my face, tempting my 
tongue to search farther in between her folds, then deep inside 
her slit.  Using my lips, I molded her folds, separated them, 
thrust in deep between them.  By then her clit had risen to the 
occasion, and I chewed lightly on it with my teeth.  She 
screamed, loud and long.  Thinking I was being too rough, I 
pulled away.

"Don't stop!" she demanded breathlessly.  "Keep going.  Do me.  
Don't quit.  Do me.  Do me...," she repeated as her voice trailed 
off into meaningless moans.  Her body trembled and shook as she 
thrust up even harder against my face.  I rubbed my nose against 
her pubic bone, while using my tongue to give her clit as much 
attention as I could.  Then I almost drowned as she spurted a 
flood of fluids onto my face.  "Oh! Oh! Oh!" she cried as she 
convulsed in repeated spasms of obvious joy.  Catching my face 
between her hands, she pulled me up for an intimate kiss.  Her 
lips caught mine for only a second, then she continued to kiss me 
all over my face as she tasted the flavor of her own passion and 
tried to retrieve it, perhaps relive it, all the while using her 
lips to thank me silently.

The result was that my own passion recuperated, and I could feel 
my erection moving against her still-gyrating pelvis.  Nancy must 
have realized what had happened and her free hand became my guide 
to enter her.  She was still thrusting with her continued orgasm, 
but I quickly caught up and matched her rhythm, even though I had 
to press hard against her to keep my penis from being ejected by 
her erratic bouncing.  What a ride she gave me!  It was better 
than Gilley's mechanical bull.  It was the ultimate screw, 
obviously induced by our afternoon of naked captivity, and likely 
never to be repeated with such intensity.  Regrettably.  Let me 
tell you, those few minutes were fantastic!  She was fantastic.  
And oh, how Nancy could screw!

Eventually, we both simply collapsed amidst heavy breathing, 
totally and completely sated sexually.  I rolled over on to the 
carpet, where we lay side by side, stretched out spread-eagle, 
totally spent.  So much for our professional attitude toward one 
another.

"Wow!" was all I could say.  

She gasped a couple of times, then echoed, "Ditto."

I don't remember quite what happened after that, because the next 
thing I remember was waking up, still lying on the carpet.  The 
house was dark except for a few rays of light from the street 
lamp outside which shone through the window.  Nancy was still 
asleep.  I needed to use the bathroom again, but I didn't want to 
wake her.  At least, not yet.  So I raised myself slowly on one 
elbow.  In the dim light reflecting off the wall, Nancy's naked 
body was illuminated.  In that dim light, she was lovely.  
Looking at her brought back memories of our sexual encounter.  
Apparently my body remembered too, for my erection immediately 
rose to the occasion.  I was ever so tempted to roll back on top 
of her and pick where we left off, but good sense and a few good 
manners restrained me.  

Instead, I simply continued to look.  Nancy, I thought, you are 
one hot lady.  Not only are you lovely to look at, but you're a 
terrific lay.

Scene 6, Visitors

Her breathing remained steady as I lay there watching her sleep.  
Relaxed as she was, her nipples had softened and blended in with 
her large areolas.  I had the urge to tweak them and see if they 
would harden and stand up, but again I refrained, for fear my 
touch would wake her.

Eventually, I tired and lay back down, deciding my bladder could 
contain my need for the bathroom for awhile longer.  At least for 
now.  When I woke again, the room was light and the sun was 
shining in through the window.  

"Good morning, sleepyhead," Nancy purred beside me.  "I wondered 
if you were going to sleep all day."  She was propped up on one 
elbow, leaning over me much the way I had observed her earlier 
during the night.  

"Good morning," I tried to smile, trying to focus in the glare of 
the sunlight.

"Did you know," she asked with a broad smile, "that you get a 
really big hard-on while you sleep?"  She reached down and 
grasped my erect rod with her free hand and gave it a couple of 
squeezes.

"Please don't do that," I protested, "or I may pee all over you."

"No, you won't," she argued.  "Men can't pee through an 
erection."  She leaned over and kissed me gently on the lips.  I 
felt myself respond warmly.  "And I don't think your hard-on is 
going down very soon, at least not if I can help it."  Her 
naughty little laugh told me I was in for more of our previous 
night's intimacy. 

Just then there was a rattle at the door.

"Someone's here!" Nancy exclaimed, suddenly sitting upright.

I raised up just enough to see out the window.  On the street 
there was a man lifting a box out of the trunk of a car.  "Are 
those the men who were here yesterday?" I asked.

Nancy twisted and raised up so she could see.  "No, I never saw 
that man before, but it's the same car I saw yesterday when I 
arrived."

The door rattled again, and I realized whoever was there had 
trouble unlocking it.  I remembered how it had been difficult for 
Nancy to open the previous day.  "Come on," I whispered.  "We 
can't just wait here and let them find us."  Quietly we stood up, 
staying close to the wall so as not to be visible through the 
window.

"Where?" Nancy asked.  "There's no place in here to hide."

"The kitchen.  Then if need to leave in a hurry we can go out 
through the mud room."  We slid along the wall toward the kitchen 
door.  On impulse, as we passed the fireplace, I grabbed the 
poker.  It was over two feet long with a large, solid brass 
handle.  "Could come in handy," I whispered when Nancy looked at 
me questioningly.  

Inside the kitchen door, we stepped behind the wall so that we 
were out of sight of the front door.  We barely made it before 
the door opened.

"Careful," I heard one of the men say as they entered.  "Beano 
said he left two people in here yesterday."

"They're long gone by now," another voice said.

"Maybe," the first man cautioned.  "He left them chained together 
totally naked."

"I bet that was fun," the second man replied as I heard the door 
close.  "Is there a table around here somewhere we can use to cut 
this stuff?"

"No, Beano said they used a room upstairs.  We better not work 
here in front of the window."

"I'll check the kitchen," one of them said.  "You look upstairs.  
Then we'll decide."

A moment later, I heard footsteps on the stairs.  Beside me, 
Nancy shuddered, then moved behind me.  I was nearer the door.  I 
shifted the poker in my hand, holding it by the business end.  
When the man came through the door, I swung the poker hard.  The 
heavy brass handle hit him behind the ear, and he collapsed 
noiselessly to the floor.

"Quick, let's move him out of sight," I instructed.  Together, we 
dragged the unconscious man into the mud room.  Hardly had we 
closed the door when I heard footsteps coming down the stairs.  
We moved back behind the wall where we had been before, and I 
retrieved the fireplace poker.

"We might as well work down here," the man said as he came down 
the steps.  "Is the kitchen all right?"  There was a pause.  
"Bill?"

The footsteps stopped just outside the kitchen door.  I was sure 
he was looking in, probably puzzled at not seeing anyone.  Nancy 
must have deduced the same thing, for she took matters into her 
own hands.  Without a word, she stepped as far to my left as our 
chain would allow, then moved out to where the man could see her.  
Not only was she totally naked, but she smiled a warm greeting to 
the man.

"Holy crap!" the man exploded.  "Bill, did you see this?" he 
asked as he hurried forward into the room.  He never took his 
eyes off Nancy, until I hit him with the poker.  

For several moments we simply stood looking down at him, as he 
sprawled across the kitchen floor.  Then Nancy asked, "You 
suppose either of these guys has a key to these handcuffs?"

"I don't know about that," I replied, "but I think we'll be a lot 
more decent going outside if we dress ourselves in their 
clothes."

She agreed, and we went to work undressing the men.  We worked 
quickly, unsure of how soon they might regain consciousness.  I 
dressed in the larger man's pants, while Nancy pulled on those of 
the smaller man.  Our handcuffs prevented us from getting into 
the shirts, so we decided on the coats instead.  Nancy solved the 
problem by putting only one arm in the coat sleeve.  "Here," she 
instructed, "zip me up, please."  

We repeated the process for me, which worked awkwardly, but then 
we realized the coats prevented us from raise our manacled hands.  
In the coat pocket, I found a set of car keys.  "Well, now we 
have wheels.  They took our cars, so I think it's fair to return 
the favor."

Nancy was not listening.  Instead, she was inspecting how she was 
dressed.  "Do I ever feel ridiculous!" she exclaimed.  Indeed, 
the clothes hung loose on her as if she were dressed to be a 
scarecrow.  Then she quickly added, "But at least I'm decent." 

"Disappointingly so," I told her.  "I liked you better the way 
you were before."

She stuck out our tongue at me, then complained, "Let's get out 
of here before they wake up."

"Fine with me," I agreed, "but you'll have to drive."  I held out 
keys I had found.

"Me?" she queried.

"My left hand is cuffed to you.  Remember?  If I get behind the 
wheel, where will you sit?"  

"I get the point," she laughed.

Outside, Nancy climbed in through the passenger side door, and I 
followed.  The keys fit, and the car ran smoothly.  Within a few 
minutes we were well away from the house of our captivity.

"Please pardon the old cliché, Nancy, but your place or mine?" 

"They took my keys," Nancy exclaimed, pounding the steering wheel 
in frustration.  "So I have no way to get into my apartment."

"Then it's my place.  I have a key hidden in the yard."  I gave 
directions, and it was with considerable relief a little while 
later that she pulled the car into my driveway.

"What a relief," Nancy exclaimed.  "We're free at last."

"Almost," I reminded her as I tugged at her wrist.  She slid back 
across the seat and followed me as I climbed out of the car.  

"I hope you have something here to cut off these handcuffs," she 
told me hopefully as we crossed the lawn to where I had hidden my 
extra house key.

"We'll think of something," I promised while retrieving the key.  
Once we were inside, it was my turn to heave a heavy sigh of 
relief.  

"You know what?" Nancy asked.  "In all the excitement, I forgot 
that my bladder's about to burst.  Do you have a bathroom here?"

"That I do, Nancy.  That I do."  And even though we had escaped 
from the house and from our captors, we were still bound 
together, which forced us once again to share the intimacies of 
bathroom duty.  This time, she started to go first, but the coats 
zipped over our connected arms prevented her from sitting down.  
"I guess we really need to take these off," she suggested.

We unzipped each other's coats and removed them.  When her 
breasts came back in view, I was somewhat thankful for the 
handcuffs.  "I like you dressed that way," I told her politely.

She made a face at me, then lowered her oversized pants and sat 
on the stool, where she quickly relieved herself.  When she moved 
out of the way, I raised the seat and unzipped my pants.  Once 
again, my bladder was slow to release its load.

Nancy waited patiently, watching me closely until I was finally 
finished.  Then she asked, "Don't you ever wipe yourself?"

"Never thought of it," I confessed.  "You think I should?"

"Suit yourself.  I just wondered."  She shuddered.  "I don't know 
when I've felt this grimy.  I guess all the dirt that normally 
collects on clothes has settled on my skin."

"You're saying you'd like to take a shower?" I suggested.

"Do you mind?"  Her smile was more than suggestive; in fact, it 
was an open promise.

I led the way to the upstairs bathroom, where we quickly 
discarded the outsized trousers.  Once again we were totally 
naked.  I turned on the water and adjusted the temperature.  Then 
we stepped together into the shower.  We both reached for the 
soap at the same time.

"Okay," I offered, "you take the soap, and I'll use the shampoo."

"That's fair.  If you'll wash my hair, I will wash your back with 
the soap."

"Only my back?" I asked.

"I thought you'd never ask," she laughed, and with that she began 
rubbing soap all over my erection.  Then stroking it between her 
hands, she tiptoed up and kissed me as she said, "Now it's your 
turn to shampoo my hair."  After saying that she dropped to her 
knees and pulled my erection deep into her mouth.  I obeyed her 
instruction and shampooed her hair, trying to be careful not to 
get the suds on her face, but that became impossible as she 
bobbed her head up and down.  She seemed to sense that I was near 
climax when, just as quickly as she had begun, she stood, put her 
arms around my neck, planted her mouth over mine as she lifted 
herself and spread her legs.  I slid easily inside her, and we 
braced against the shower wall as we thrust together.  She came 
quickly, far more readily than I expected.  A few moments later, 
I nearly collapsed to the bottom of the shower stall.

"I'm famished," Nancy exclaimed.  "Can we eat, then come back and 
finish this shower?"

I agreed.  So we dried off and retreated to the kitchen without 
bothering to dress.  Somehow, after all the time we had spent 
together naked, it seemed only natural.  I laughed. 

"What's so funny?" she asked.

"Oh, I was just thinking how natural it seems for us to be au 
naturel."

"Cute," she said.  After a moment, she continued.  "What really 
concerns me is the fact that those guys who took our clothes also 
have all our identification.  They could be passing themselves 
off as us right now."

"I know," I agreed.  "I often wonder about ID theft."  We raided 
the refrigerator, laying out a collection of cold cuts, cheese, 
and a loaf of bread.  Then it struck me.  "Did you say that's the 
same car the guys had yesterday who took our clothes?"

"I'm certain," she replied.  "Why?"

"We didn't check the trunk."  

Wide-eyed, she grabbed a coat and threw it over her shoulders.  
It was long enough to cover most of her bottom.  She paused a 
moment, while I pulled on the pants I had worn previously, then 
she shrugged, grabbed the car keys, and together we ran outside.  
Sure enough, there in the trunk were our clothes, wadded together 
and piled in a corner.  Nancy's purse was there, and my wallet 
was still in my pants pocket.

She was ecstatic.  I must admit that I was likewise greatly 
pleased.  And relieved.  "Now we can finally get back to normal," 
Nancy cooed as we headed back into the house carrying our 
clothes.

 "This is nice," I tell her, "but how do you put on these regular 
clothes?  We still have these stupid handcuffs to deal with."

"That should be no problem," she grinned sheepishly as we stacked 
the clothing in a pile on my kitchen table.  She was still 
wearing the coat taken from the man at the house, and from a 
pocket she withdrew a key ring.  "Here's my realtor key to that 
house I'm supposed to be selling.  It was in his coat pocket."  
She jingled the keys and smiled.  "And there's an extra key on 
the ring," she held it up.  "This one is not mine.  Do you 
suppose it just might be the key to these cuffs?"

"And you had this key all the time?" 

"Of course not.  I only found it when we undressed those guys."

"You mean we could have taken off these cuffs back then?  Over at 
the other house.  Right?"

"I guess we could," she admitted.  "If we had really wanted to...."

Suddenly, I was more than frustrated with her.  I was irate.  
"Why, Nancy?  Why?"

"Now, Bill," she smiled with a lop-sided grin.  "Why would I want 
to do that?  Taking off these cuffs would have spoiled our fun."  

With that, she dropped the key ring on the table, slipped off the 
coat and let it fall to the floor.  Then she turned to me and 
shook her shoulders seductively, causing her beautiful breasts to 
roll and sway seductively.  "Now, are we going to get something 
to eat?  Or is there something else you'd rather do?"

~~~~~
Continued in Chapter 10





  
Chapter 09 - The Realtor