Moving-In Day

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I’m standing there in the apartment and none of the wiring is finished. I’ve gotten off the phone with the contractor who informs me that he can’t make it to this apartment until Wednesday at the earliest. I reminded him that when I accepted his bid for this complex that he promised me that every unit would be done by business day — yesterday. I promptly fired his lying ass and told the bank to withheld final payment.

The problem is that I’m standing in an apartment I’ve sold and the client is moving in Saturday, so I’m calling around for any electrician I can find to get the project done, whatever the cost. Monday morning is the best I can get. I am so dead. The client is going to show up tomorrow, freak out, and want their deposit back. I can afford to lose the money, but I hate to lose the client. I promised them something and now I can’t deliver. I decide to head back to the office and call up the person whose weekend I’m going to ruin. I know she’s making a long trip to come here. I’m trying to decide what hotel they would want me to put them up for in a week to save my ass.

I look at my watch and its past closing time. My receptionist is gone for the weekend and I’m alone again covering yet another crisis. I bite the bullet and make the call. She picks up on the second ring.

“Hello,” she says in a nice, chipper voice. I feel like a vet about to tell an owner that their puppy died.

“I need to talk to you about something,” I tell her.

“Hold on a moment,” she says. There is a knock at my door. I groan. No one comes to my office after hours unless there has been some kind of disaster and this place should be too new for that.

“Hang on,” I warn her. “Someone’s at the door. I’ll be right back.” I hurry to the door and there she is … tight orange sleeveless t-shirt and grey sweat pants, phone in hand. Her long blonde hair is pulled back in a ponytail. It takes me a second to realize this is the client. When I last saw her she was in a crisp expensive business suit looking very serious. She was also very demanding, making go over every fine point in the apartment. It seemed like it took forever to get her to buy the place. Now she’s beaming like a college cheerleader and dressed like she’s going to go jogging. I get a sinking feeling.

“Hey, I wanted you to know that I’m a day early. Is it okay if I move in now?” Now I remember her telling me that this is her first place on her own, away from home and in the big city, so she’s got nobody to help her.

“We need to talk,” I begin. “Come in and sit down.” She does so, but something in her demeanor changes. She’s wary and apprehensive. I hang up the phone and take a deep breath. “The contractor I hired failed to finish the wiring in your apartment today so I had to arrange another man to come in Monday and fix everything up.”

“Oh … poo,” she mutters. Then she starts getting upset and not the mad-upset, but the tears-upset. She sniffles.

“I’ll do whatever it takes to make this up to you.” I tell her. She looks up at me as I’m leaning against my desk in front of her while she’s in the chair. That seriousness returns.

“I have everything I own in the truck downstairs and I have to turn it in by ten tomorrow morning. I’ve gone through my moving bonus from the firm that just hired me getting this place, and I’m paying for the truck out of my own expenses.”

“I’ll put you up in a hotel of your choice for a week,” I offer, “and I’ll find a way to extend your truck contract. I really don’t want to lose your business. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

She gives me an appraising glance. I’m just over six foot, one seventy, and I work out twice a week. I consider myself to be in good shape and relatively good looking.

“Whatever it takes?” she questions.

“You name it,” I nod.

“Okay, help me move in so that I can spend my first night in the city in my own place. It would mean a lot to me,” she informs me.

“Maybe I didn’t make myself clear. Your place has no lights and nothing to plug a device into. Wouldn’t you be miserable?”

“Does that mean you won’t help me?” she says, doe-eyed. God, she’s hot. I’m sure she’s seeing someone. She showed up with this guy when she bought the place and he looked pretty successful too. They were very familiar with one another.

“No; whatever means whatever and if you want to move in tonight, I’ll help. Can I change into something more casual?”

“Of course,” she beams. She sits and looks at me, as if expecting something.

“I have my gym clothes here … I’ll change right now … Do you care to step outside as I get ready?”

“You said whatever,” she giggled. “Right, I’ll turn around so that you can have your modesty.” Somehow this wasn’t what I was expecting. I begin wondering what I’ve gotten myself into.

I go to my gym bag behind my desk and begin stripping off my clothes. I’m nervous as hell, so I turn my back to her as I strip. My workout shorts have their own lining so I have to take off everything. I don’t even know this girl and she’s eight feet from canlı bahis me while I’m naked. I dress as quickly as possible but I could swear I hear some giggling from her.

“Done,” I announce. She turns and gives me a wide, white-toothed grin. Somehow I’ve made her very happy. I hate to think what it is.

“Let’s go to the truck,” she says then flounces toward the door. God, she’s got a great ass. Is it my imagination, or are those sweats a size too small. Maybe she’s had them for a while. She hums as we ride down the elevator. I decide to break the ice.

“So, you are a lawyer,” I say. I’ve seen all the paperwork on her place and her employer is a large law firm.

“Are you going to hold that against me?” she smiles.

“No,” I insist. “I have several good friends who are lawyers. There is Tabitha, Gretchen, and..Oh yeah, Simone. They are all good lawyers and good friends.”

“Ex-girlfriends of yours?” she says with less enthusiasm.

“Oh God no,” I laugh. “We are just good friends. We were buddies all through college. I ended up going into real estate and they ended up in law, but we still get together. I’m their guy-friend. I can’t tell you how much guy-to-girl translations I’ve had to do for them,” I add.

“Guy-to-girl translations?” she asks.

“When a guy says one thing but means something else,” I explain. “Sometimes guys say some stupid, hurtful things and it helps for a girl to have a filter.”

“Are you gay?”

“No, I’m pretty sure I’m not, but you’re not the first girl to ask me that,” I say looking down on her. She smiles up at my response. She has a nice smile.

“You have a nice smile,” I decide to comment, “in fact it is beautiful. You should do it more often.” He smile broadens and the elevator doors open. She takes my hand and pulls me out to the U-Haul she’s got for the night. Her grasp is sweaty and her pulse seems a bit elevated. I wonder if she gets enough exercise. She opens the back and I decide that I’m not looking forward to this.

It is an hour of hot, sweaty work, broken up by the indoor conditioning of the complex. Once all the furniture (there’s not a lot) I suggest that we get into a rhythm that she unpacks the boxes that she brings up, but she insists that she sticks it out with me. When I final bring the last box in and she props herself against the wall, I decide it is time to make an exit.

“You’ve got an hour of sunlight left. Are you sure I can’t put you up in a hotel?”

“What do you mean?” she teases, “We’ve just begun. I need help unpacking all this stuff.” I stare at her disbelieving. “You did say ‘whatever’.” She’s bludgeoning me to death with my own words.

“Tell me where to begin,” I sigh. She comes over and pats me on the ass, giving me a little pinch.

“Come on now,” she looks at me innocently, “is it that bad hanging out with me?”

“No. I can honestly say you’re the first girl that’s got me hot and sweaty in months,” I tease back. She blushes slightly.

“Check each box to make sure it is labeled correctly and put it in the appropriate room. I’m going to get some candles,” she tells me.

“You got it, Boss,” I salute. She goes off in one direction and I attack the first box. I can see her keeping an eye on me which makes me a little sad to believe I’ve lost her trust. On the fifth box I open I find myself staring down at some lacey thong panties that are long on looks and short on coverage. For a second I find myself wondering what she would look like in them. I’m banishing those inappropriate thoughts when I feel her hand on my shoulder as she looks around me.

“Find everything okay,” she says softly. I gulp. I don’t want her to think I’m a pervert.

“Sure,” I respond as I hastily shut the box. I really don’t want to take advantage of this girl. She’s new and vulnerable right now. Maybe after we develop some kind of work relationship and if she dumps her boyfriend then maybe I can ask her out.

“Anything I can help you with?” she murmurs. I lift the box and turn around.

“I … wow, your hair really glows in the candle light. Your gorgeous and,” I smile.


“And I have to put this box in the bedroom,” I finish. She suddenly looks furious, or frustrated, or something and I can’t fathom why that is.

I get the last box situated about the time the Chinese take-out arrives. I pay for it, trying to make up for all the trouble I’ve put her through. Why are lying on the ground, propped up on one elbow, facing each other while eating. We’d taken our socks and shoes off to be more comfortable.

“Do you want to spend the night?” she says quietly, clearly nervous. I can understand her being afraid in a new, strange place.

“Sure, I’d be happy to. I see you have a sleeping bag. I can sleep out here,” I suggest. She looks down, clearly upset. She grinds her teeth and looks up at me with a threatening expression.

“I mean, do you want to sleep in bed, with me, not sleeping — is that clear enough? I mean, you seem to find me physically attractive, so what is it I’ve bahis siteleri done to turn you off?”

“What about your boyfriend?” I respond, worried. I hate cheating in a relationship.

“Boyfriend?” she sounds confused. “What boyfriend? I don’t have a boyfriend. I haven’t even dated in the past year!”

“Who was the guy you came here with?” I inquire. She looks surprised, starts giggling and the giggling turned to laughter.

“He’s my brother, you idiot!”

“So you really have been hitting on me all night long … damn.”

“So you wouldn’t sleep with me because you thought I had a boyfriend? After all the hints I’ve been throwing your way? Wow … that’s really sweet.” I kind of hear her words, but frankly I’m interested in something else. I put my food aside, take her food out of her hands, and start kissing her as I push her beneath me. She makes a delightful purring noise as I move from her lips to her chin line and neck.

“You are definitely not gay,” she smiles up at me.

“You don’t know how much I’ve been adjusting myself when you weren’t looking. I almost lost it when I saw your underwear.”

“I set that up on purpose,” she murmurs. “You must have a will of iron.”

“I’ve spent some time around vulnerable women, and I know that last thing they need is some guy pawing them. As I said, I have several girls as friends and I’ve seen them through some screwed up relationships.”

“I’ll see if I can take advantage of your experience,” she giggles as I started grinding into her.

“One thing I want to know: what would you have done if I had tried to leave?”

“Oh, I was going to club you with my lamp and tie you to the bed with the cord. I think no one would have missed you until Monday morning,” she gleefully recites her plan.

“Thanks for hitting with a Clue-By-Four instead,” I said through nibbles on her neck and breastbone as I make my way to her left breast.

“I was really beginning to believe there was something wrong with me then you hit me with the hair in the candlelight comment.”

“I was being honest. You’re gorgeous,” I tease her nipple through her shirt. Her breasts aren’t large, but they are firm and fit her frame perfectly. I bite her tank top, pulling it up in my teeth, and shook it back and forth like a dog. I mumble something to her.

“What was that?” she breathes heavily.

“I said ‘you are wearing too much clothing’,” I grin devilishly as I let go of her shirt.

“Well,” she smiles seductively, “let me sit up and I’ll take it off.”

“How about I let you up and you let me take it off you? I want to take in every inch of you so I don’t miss a thing.”

“Are you saying you want to strip me and have your way with me?” she says as she put a finger, childlike to her lips.

“I was going to say ‘make passionate love to you’, but if having ‘my way with you’ is what you want, I did say ‘whatever you want’. You are the boss.”

“How about you take off my clothes, I take off your clothes, and then I get to decide which way I want it?” she giggles.

“Deal,” I snicker back. Straddling her legs, I start pulling her shirt up out of her waistband slowly and doubling it up as it raise higher. Sliding down her farther, I begin placing kisses on her stomach first below then above her pants. When I kiss and lick her taunt stomach she shivers slightly. Her shirt keeps rising higher and higher.

When I crest each breast, I place a single light kiss on each one. When my kisses moved above them, she moans in frustration. I wasn’t finished with her shirt yet. I lift it up until it covers her face and her arms were raised over her head. I draw the shirt just high enough to expose her lips while blinding her to my true intentions. At first my stopping leaves her confused then I get a breathless ‘Oh’. This was when I kiss her on the lips; first lightly, then fully, and finally deep and long.

“Am I driving you crazy?” I whisper to her. She nods vigorously. “Where do you want me to kiss you next?”

“You bastard,” she grins.

“There is that beautiful smile again,” I tease.

“My breasts; please play with my breasts.”

I kiss her on the chin, down were her neck dips into her chest, and then to her sternum. I tilt my head and lick first one nipple and then the next. I keep this up for a minute, starting with quick touches and working my way to whirling my tongue around them. Her heart rate increases and she starts breathing more deeply.

I move on to sucking a nipple. I stay with one first trapping it with lips then slowly sucking on it, teasing then drawing it fully into my mouth. My sucking becomes more urgent and I swirl my tongue around it. Lastly I tease it with my teeth until I pull it taunt up in their grasp.

“Ah … aha…” she moans. I then start on the next one. She begins twitching and shaking her head back and forth. When I finally get my teeth on the second nipple she screams out and her back arches toward me.

“Oh God!”

She slams herself back to the floor in a way that looks to be painful, bahis şirketleri but she seems to be oblivious to it. She pants heavily and groans. I notice dampness between her legs — real dampness. I pull her shirt up over her head and arms, but am unprepared for what I saw. She looks embarrassed and afraid.

“I’m sorry,” she moans. “I …”

“What are you sorry for?” I ask.

“I made a mess,” she responds, looking away. I shift off of her so that I could look down at her crotch. This girl has come hard.

“You are worried about this?” I smile at her as I put a hand under her chin and push her gaze back to meeting mine. “So, you had an orgasm. I find that highly erotic.”

“But, I came a lot. I always do. You don’t find that gross?” she wonders. I decide actions were better than words. I move down and took her by the waistband and start peeling her pants down. She clamps her legs together, but I keep gently pulling until she relents. I bring them down to her calves before pulling one off and then the other. I kiss her feet, her knees, and then the corner of her thighs next to her sex.

“What are you doing?” she questions.

“I thought that would be obvious. I’m showing you how I feel about your orgasm by forcing you to have another one. I’m going to eat you up.”

“But … aren’t you weirded out? I’ve never had a guy go down on me more than once and never once they knew,” she trembles.

My response is to dive in, kissing and teasing her before driving my tongue deep into her cunt and fucking her with it. I grab her hips and pull myself deeper into her. She reaches down with a hesitant hand until she reaches the top of my head. She doesn’t push; she touches my hair as if she is afraid I am not real. She runs her hands through my hair in a gently caress.

I attack like a famished man, digging in and whirling my tongue in all angles. She slowly draws her legs together around me, pushing her thighs over my shoulders and wrapping her calves behind my head. She begins pushing me even further in as her breath comes in stronger gasps and she begins giving off those little ‘uh, uh, uhs’.

“I’m close,” she warns me between bated breaths. I open wider until my teeth began rubbing against her clit. That gets her.

“Aaahhh …”

Needless to say I drink of her like a madman. This woman is a real squirter and comes in buckets. The real miracle is that she is still so wet afterwards.

“Are you okay?” she pants. I raise my head up and grin at her. My face is covered with her juices. I crawl up her body and drive my tongue into her mouth. She melts into me.

“Mmmm … I taste good, don’t I?” she grins when I break our embrace.

“Sweetest ever,” I smile back down at her. She wraps her arms around me and hugs me to her.

“Thank you,” she nearly sobs.

“For what; realizing how great you are?” I tease. She holds on for several seconds then lowers herself down from me.

“It hasn’t escaped me that we haven’t had real sex yet. Don’t think you are getting off this easy. You said ‘whatever’ and I’m holding you to it,” she counters.

“Wow,” I say in mock disappointment, “I seem to have all my clothes on.” She rolls me over onto my back and straddles me.

“Let me see what I can do about that,” she giggles.

She reaches down to my waist band and slowly works both her hands underneath my t-shirt. As she pushes upwards she murmurs.

“Yes?” I ask.

“Oh, I like,” she purrs. “Someone has been doing his crunches.

“How do you know it’s not from extensive sexual gymnastics?” I joke.

“Really, how much sex have you been having?” she inquires with sensual curiosity.

“Fine,” I confess, looking away, “it’s been six months. I haven’t had sex in six months.”

She continues pushing my shirt up until she can dig her nails into my nipples exacting gasps of pleasure/pain.

“Why is that? Do you have some deficiency I should know about?”

“Yes, I have to have sex in six hour continuous blocs. If not, I suffer from TSRS,” I respond.

“What is that?” she wonders.

“Terminal Sperm Retention Syndrome,” I laugh. “Trust me it can be a debilitating condition that requires hours of physical therapy.”

“Oh, poor baby; let me kiss it and make it better,” she teases, grinding her crotch into my tortured hard-on. As I reach for her breasts, she slaps my hands away and wags a finger in my face.

“It’s my turn,” she taunts me, “so sit back and let me have my way with you.”


“Or I’ll tie you down and then have my way with you,” she grins.

“So if I behave can I get the occasional touch or tickle in?” I pray.

“If you are very, very good I might consider allowing you to touch me … with one finger,” she graciously allows. I nod my eager acceptance. She continues pushing my shirt up and I hit my head on the ground when she rips it off my upper body.

“Ow …” I groan. She looks half concerned/half amused.

“Are you okay?”

“A kiss will make it hurt less,” I suggest. She leans down and kisses me on the lips. I am getting increasing joy with how great her lips feel on mine. She surprises me by turning around and sticking her ass close to my face. It looks beautiful and is tantalizingly close.

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