Author’s Note: This story is the full-length version of a Hot
Flash I wrote in August 2006. This story and the flash are
copyrighted, in full and part, to Frustrated. If you would like
to reproduce this story or COMMENT on it, please e-mail me at
frustrateddoublehelix@gmail.com. I’d love to hear from you. Many
thanks to ghosthostblue and flibinite for their wonderful edits
and comments.

In and Sweet
By Frustrated

Barbara settled down behind her desk in the lobby of the McCallow
Palm Tree Inn & Suites. The Inn was popular with businessmen, so
the owner, Mr. Greenaugh, hired Barbara to be their eye candy out
front. They hadn’t, however, accounted for her tongue. She’d had
many years of experience turning men down and she was
lightning-quick at it, a reputation that had earned her the
nickname “The Barb.”
She yawned, dropping her bag next to her stool, and hunched
herself over the soothing hot steam from her coffee.
Finally ready for work, Barbara stretched and checked the
computer. Only a handful of reservations, and none scheduled to
arrive during her shift. Work today was going to be slow and
easy.
*Boop. Boop.*
The sleepy brunette extended her right arm. It landed on the
phone.
*Boooop. Boo-*
   	“Hello you’ve reached the Palm Tree Inn and Suites my name is
Barbara how may I help you,” she rattled off, half-slumped over
the reception desk.
 	 There was no answer, just some tropical music. After ten
seconds, a recorded voice clicked on.
  	“Thank you, and good-bye,” it said in measured, dulcet tones.
The line went dead.
“Hello? Hello?” The Barb hung up. “Pah,” she spat, “stupid
recordings.”
She sat up straight and started to sort through the junk on her
desk. Why did she have so many old receipts and things? And what
was this, a picture of, James, her boyfriend? Why did she that at
work? It wasn’t like she wouldn’t see him soon enough, probably
right after her shift.
   	*Boop. Boop. Boooo-*
  	“Hello, welcome to the Palm Tree Inn and Suites. My name is
Barbara how may I help you?” tripped lightly off her tongue.
   	There was no answer; just thirty seconds of classical music.
A voice clicked on.	
   	“Thank you and good-bye,” it chirped. As before, the line
went dead.
  	“Hrm, that silly recording again.” Barbara hung up, looked
around, and decided that it was all junk. She swept everything
but the phone, the computer, and the registration book into the
round file. Feeling inspired, she went through each drawer of the
desk and her purse just as discriminatively. What were all of
these lipsticks all in the same color? She only needed one of
each color, some nice, dark, sexy ones to set off her luscious
lips just right. Could she remember to get everything she needed
the next time she went shopping? Barbara started a list, just to
be sure she wouldn’t forget.
	There was just one more drawer to go when the phone rang again.
“Hello? This is the Palm Tree Inn and Suites. My name is Barbara,
how may I help you?” slid from her mouth like a waterfall over a
cliff, smooth and supple.
   	She nodded along to the two minutes of soft jazz that
followed, staring intently at that last drawer. It was her boss’s
drawer, the one she had been ordered never to open. *Why?* she
wondered. Why shouldn’t she open it? She had the key, after all.
She didn’t feel cross at the soft, warm voice that said good-bye
to her from the handset.
Alone with her thoughts again, she decided that the whole lobby
was completely filthy. She spent the next hour windexing the two
glass walls, polishing hard, careful to remove any annoying
streaks.
The Inn & Suites was in the slightly shifty area of town built
around the Interstate off-ramp, which worried…um, what was her
boyfriend’s name? Well, whatever. He was always telling her to be
careful around here, but she loved this place. Why else would she
work here? It wasn’t as if her job was hard, or anything. Nothing
beyond her. She just had to write names in the book and flash her
bright, easy smile at the nice men who came in and give them
their keys and clean clean clean!
No, wait, that last part was wrong. It wasn’t part of her job,
the cleaning. She just loved to clean. She always had. Probably.
No, definitely.
   *Boop. Boop.*
   “Jus’ a sec!” she called, racing over to the desk.
   *Boop. Boo-*
   “Hello! Welcome to the Palm Tree Inn ’n Suites! My name is
Barbie, how can I help you?”
   Barbie? Where had that come from? She hated that nickname, it
was so demeaning! The fumes must have been affecting her. *No
more industrial cleaner for me!* she thought.
   She wiggled her rear against her seat to three minutes of cha
cha music, and nodded when the voice said bye-bye and told her to
be a good girl.
   Barbie giggled happily. What had she been thinking? Oh yeah,
she had to vacuum the floor and Windex the revolving door. Yummy,
more cleaning! Just her and the sweet mist inside each lil’
triangle of glass to clean and make so pretty!
   She coughed and choked delicately while she scrubbed. She was
happy, even so, because all of the elbow grease she was using to
make the place shiny was making her arm strong, which would
surely help her to give better hand jobs. All of the foamy, white
liquid reminded her of cum. She had to force herself not to drink
it straight from the bottle. Just looking at it got her all wet.
  *Boop. Boop. Boo-*
   “Cooooming!” she trilled, which made her giggle. She’d said a
dirty word! “Hi, this is the Palm Tree Inn ’n Suites, my name is
Barbie and just *how* can I *help* you?”
   She listened to five minutes of elevator muzak without
comment. Then the voice told her it was time.
   “Oooh, like, wow!” she cooed, feeling extremely turned on. She
got out her key chain with all the sparkly keys on it and picked
out the key she’d never used before. She slid it into the lock of
the special drawer like a long, hard cock slid into a wet,
willing slut, and turned it. She moaned at the sensation her
mental picture sent her.
   The drawer popped open on its own, which made her giggle and
clap. When she saw what was inside, she gave a repeat
performance. Barbie chucked her old, blah clothes every which way
and slipped her tight, supple body into the new, shiny ones. This
outfit was so, like, *her*! The fishnets and apron and even the
little doily added to the yummy effect; everything was included,
even a feather duster!
   She checked herself out in the highly polished glass walls,
bending every which way and thrusting her curvy ass out to get
the best angle. She giggled at the sound of cars running into
cars outside, looking on bemusedly at the four-car pile-up on the
road outside. She waved.
   No matter, it was time to work! All those hot, dirty men in
their dirty rooms, that’s, like, what she was like, there for; to
fuck and suck and clean up muck.
   Oh my, she was so squirmy wormy! Thank goodness the duster had
such a thick, long handle.
	She looked around for a place to sit; she wasn’t used to heels
this high yet, and she didn’t want to tear her stockings. That
was for the men to do. Uh…the receptionists stool! Barbie didn’t
see the receptionist, but she didn’t think she’d mind.
	She spread her legs as far as they could go, lifting one to the
top of the desk. She pulled the duster to her sopping cunt, only
to find that she had the wrong end. She was *so* silly sometimes!
But oooh, that *did* tickle nicely. She shuddered. All this
teasing, slightly sweeping the feathers over her spread lips, was
driving her mad. She could feel her insides heating and
spreading, lubricating and lengthening for a tool, any tool.
With one deft movement, she tossed her feather-duster, catching
the other end deftly in her right hand. It was like she’d been a
baton-twirler or a cheerleader or something. Wait, she had been,
hadn’t she? Sometimes she liked to try the outfit on when she
went home alone. Oh, that was why she didn’t remember! She
*never* went home alone. Barbie wasn’t that kind of girl.
The duster’s handle was shaped like a cock! She slid it *all* the
way in, and then went in and out, in and out. Her steady rhythm
increased; up and down, up and down, up and down went her arm,
just the way it did when she cleaned windows. Just like it did
when she pulled long, meaty cocks.
Ohhhh, my! She was so juicy she’d dripped on the seat. *That*
wouldn’t do. Everything must be clean clean clean! Barbie dropped
to her knees and started licking, drinking in every drop of her
tangy juices like a cat drank milk.
She pulled back, sucking on her lips for more flavor. She reached
down with one hand and scooped out more, adjusting her doily with
the other. It wouldn’t do to look disheveled, even in pleasure.
“There you are doll!”
She straightened herself hurriedly. It was the owner of the
hotel! Keeping her eyes lowered modestly, she replied: “Yes,
sir?”
“Did you deliver the breakfast tray to room 314 this morning?”
“No sir, I just came on duty.”
She glanced up; he was smirking. The entire lobby smelled like
the slick area between Barbie’s legs.
“Did you?”
She dropped her head in shame. Her cheeks burned.
“I-I’m sorry sir,” she inhaled, her words tapering off to
silence.
He snorted, and fished his cell phone out of his pocket. He
pressed a few buttons and put it back.
*Boop. Boop.*
“Better answer the phone.”
*Booop. Boooop.*
“But…but I’m not a receptionist. Am I? Where is she?”
*Booooooop.*
“I’m sure she won’t mind. You go answer it now.”
He tapped her lightly on the bottom, pushing her over towards the
phone.
*Booooooooop. Booooooooo-”
“P-Palm Tree Inn and Suites, my name is Bar-Bar--Barbie, h-how
may I help you?”
She closed her eyes as the ethereal music washed over her.

