Printer whirs in the corner, spitting casting contracts. Mouse clicks sharp on my glass desk. Coffee brews hot, mixing with my floral perfume, thick air on the 33rd floor, 7 Country Road 69, Jersey City. White leather sofas line walls, guys numbered, waiting. Eyes dart my way. Tall, blonde, Eastern curves in tight blouse and jeans. Hierarchy rules here. Tom’s production empire. I thrive on the edge.
Open-space buzz. Number 34 slinks out, pissed, bangs auto-door. I buzz thirty-five. ‘Come in, mister.’ Fakher steps in, dark eyes, lean build. Direct him to sofa. He sinks deep, stares at NYC skyline through massive window. Central Park a dark smudge. Tension coils. Dossiers stack on my desk – blood tests, contracts. His gaze flicks to me. I cross legs, heels click floor. Heart pounds. Professional mask hides my hunger. Adrenaline from almost-caught thrills.
Rising Tension
Bell dings soft. Tom ready. ‘Go in, mister.’ Door to casting room swings. Clicks shut behind him. I sip coffee, black, bitter. Minutes drag. Guys shift, whisper. My nipples harden under blouse. Love this game. Stress flips to pure lust.
Gadget buzzes from Tom’s pocket-signal. I rise smooth, heels echo. Push door. Square room glows under spots, blinds seal window. Tom on chair, gut forward, ruler ready. Fakher stands bare, cock shy, circumcised, Arab pride soft against balls. ‘Show him, Kate,’ Tom grunts.
Door clicks locked behind me. Risk spikes – guys outside, thin walls. Unbutton blouse slow. Heavy tits spill free, snow-white, pink nipples stiff. Swing them inches from his face. He throbs. ‘Like these, Fak?’ Dirty whisper. Hand wraps his shaft, warm, velvety. Stroke base to tip. Blood surges. Thickens fast. Veins pulse under fingers.
Explosive Release
Drop to knees, concrete hard. No desk, just raw stand-fuck vibe. ‘Gonna test this dick proper.’ Tongue flicks slit. Salty pre-cum. Lips seal gland. Suck deep, half down throat. Gagging thrill. His hands fist air. Bob head, slurps wet. Hand pumps base, twist wrist. Spit drools, coats 12 inches rising. ‘Fuck, huge cock,’ I moan around meat. Eyes up, lock his. Cheeks hollow. Balls slap chin.
Faster. Crachats hot, lube slick. Deepthroat full, nose to pubes. Gag reflex fights, wins. His hips buck. Tom watches, nods. Timer ticks. Moans vibrate shaft. Tension peaks. ‘Cum, Fak. Feed me.’ Hand blurs, mouth milks. He groans ‘Oh yeah!’ Jets hit throat, thick, salty ropes. Swallow gulp, onda down neck. Last drops tongue-lapped. Suck dry, pop off with smack.
Stand quick. Wipe lips discreet. Button blouse, tits tucked firm. Smile wicked. ’12 inches, Tom. Perfect.’ Ruler confirms. He nods. ‘Good girl.’ Unlock door, slip out cool. Back to desk. Fix hair, lipstick smear gone. Sip coffee, perfume masks musk. Buzz next number. ‘Who’s ready?’ Mask perfect. Meeting resumes like nothing. Pulse races. Secret sealed. Cash flows. Ambition burns hotter.