She stood there naked for a moment, looking around for her scattered clothes. Brock got up from behind his desk and walked around to her, so quickly and silently that she didn't notice him till he was putting his arms around her. Pat gasped, totally stunned, as he drew her tight against him and kissed her.
'Umph!' Pat cried.
Though Brock was lean, he was over six feet tall and very strong. He easily overpowered her, and she couldn't break away from his kiss. He jammed his mouth hungrily against hers, forcing her lips open, and she felt his slick hot tongue gliding into her mouth. There was a sudden and very unexpected melting sensation in her belly, a feeling she always got when she was horny.
My God, she thought, what's the matter with me?
After John's death she'd thought she'd never want another man. In fact no man had turned her on till now. She had been happy alone, without sex – or so she'd told herself. Sure, there'd been nights when she tossed and turned, unable to sleep, she wanted to get laid so badly. But it hadn't happened often, and she'd never been tempted to ball any of the men she'd met.
Not until now.
She couldn't explain the effect Brock Spalding had on her. Even as she pushed against his shoulders and gave muffled cries of protest, she was getting wildly turned on. Her whole pussy was swelling up and growing hot and moist. She didn't like the way he did his business, the way he'd humiliated her by making her strip in front of him. Yet she felt herself responding hungrily to his kiss.
She felt her bare breasts half crushed against his suit jacket, the nipples tickled and rubbed by the cool cloth. Her little black muff rubbed his crotch, and she felt an unmistakable hardness there, a rigid line that pushed against his fly. Brock had a hard-on for her, no doubt about it. Pat didn't know what to do.
Finally she managed to wrench her face away from his. But before she could speak, Brock said breathlessly, 'You're here to please, remember? And that includes ME.'
'Mr. Spalding,' Pat gasped, 'what do you think you're doing?'
'Let's cut that last names crap,' he said with a grin. 'Call me Brock. And remember, Pat, if you're gonna work for me, you gotta be nice to me. Very very nice.'
Pat got the message all too clearly. If she wanted to work at the Tango, she had to ball the boss. That seemed too much to ask, even for Trish's sake. She could live though stripping for him, she could wear that outrageously scanty costume, but she was damned if she'd be his unpaid whore – even if he did turn her on like crazy.
'Let me go,' she said coldly. 'I want to work for you, Brock, but I'm not going to bed with you.'
'Jesus, what's your problem?' he snarled. 'You frigid or something? I mean, what's a little roll in the hay nowadays, baby? Everybody does it.'
'I don't,' Pat replied icily. 'I haven't looked at another man since my husband died five years ago.'
She'd thought that might impress him, but all it did was make him more eager. He pulled her close again and ran his hands up and down her tall silky-skinned body. Pat couldn't help giving a lusty little shiver. It had been such a long time since a man had touched her naked body. But she still had her pride and her standards, and they didn't allow for hopping into bed with a total stranger.
'You mean you haven't been laid in five years?' Brock exclaimed, clearly turned on by the idea. 'Well, sweetheart, we'd better take care of that right now.'
There was a long leather couch against one wall of the office, and he began pulling her toward it. Pat gasped and fought, kicking at him with her bare feet, flailing him with her little fists. Brock just laughed and eyed her furiously wobbling big breasts. It was all a joke to him, and he was plainly excited by her struggles.
'Let me go,' Pat sobbed. 'I don't want to go to bed with you, Brock. For God's sake, just let me work here. I'll do a good job. There must be plenty of other girls who'll do what you want.'
'Sure there are,' Brock said, pulling her steadily toward the couch, 'but you're the one who turns me on. I want you, baby, and if you wanta work here, you'll have to do what I want.'
Pat still struggled, but she was no match for his superior strength. He got her over to the couch and pushed her down on her back, quickly scrambling on top of her and pinning her beneath him. Pat was angry and scared, but at the same time her pussy kept getting more hot and swollen and wet. It excited her to feel a man's body pressing her down.
'Brock, please,' she whimpered.
He silenced her with a hard hungry kiss. His tongue sliced over hers, probing deep into her mouth, and then she felt his hot hands on her naked tits. She gasped as she experienced a hot burst of lust. Her big breasts were so sensitive. She couldn't help enjoying his eager caressing and squeezing.
For the first time in years she couldn't resist thinking about her love-making with John. She'd forced those thoughts out of her mind because they made her feel too lonely and horny, but now the memories came flooding back, vivid images of the fantastic nights she and John had had together, his strong hands running all over her sleek naked body.
For a moment, in her lust and confusion, Brock seemed to be John, hotly and hungrily caressing her tender naked tits. She arched her body upward to rub her swollen jugs against his palms and writhe her little black bush against the hard lump of his crotch. Then she remembered that John was dead – cruelly, prematurely dead of an accident five years ago.
'Noooo,' Pat moaned, wrenching her face away from his. 'Please, I don't want anybody but John.'
'John?' Brock exclaimed. 'But that's your husband, isn't it? Jesus Christ, Pat, wake up. The dude is dead. You can't go without a man the rest of your life. Come on, baby loosen up. It'd be a damned shame to waste this fantastic body.'
He dipped his head down, stuck out his gleaming red tongue, and began licking her nipples, darting playfully from one rosy stiff bud to the other. Violent streaks of pleasure ran down her body, racing from nipple to pussy, and she shivered hard. She felt her long-deprived little cunt starting to leak hot sticky cream.
'Oh, God, no,' she sobbed, 'I shouldn't do this, Brock. I hardly know you.'
'Then let's get better acquainted,' he panted.
Pat struggled, trying to push him off – and then suddenly went still and breathless as she felt him slipping his hand into her crotch. He had an expert touch. He quickly located the moist little lump of her clit and began to rub the hot button with a fingertip. The pleasure was so sudden and dizzying that Pat gave a hoarse little moan and let her legs fall open just a bit.
Then she remembered where she was, who she was with, and she tried to clamp her thighs shut. Too late. Brock already had his whole hand on her moist steamy pussy, and she couldn't force him out. He rubbed her horny little clit steadily, teasingly, and Pat felt her treacherous cunt spewing a big load of hot cream all over his hand.
Brock felt it, too. 'That's it, baby,' he panted, 'just let yourself go. We'll have a great time together, I promise. Just relax and let me get you off.'
At that point Pat was embarrassingly tempted to take his advice. She hadn't realized till now how eager she was to get laid, how much she'd missed being with a man. She'd forced herself not to think about it for five long lonely years, but Brock Spalding had somehow unleashed all her repressed longing and lust. She simply couldn't control herself around this man.
She pushed at his shoulders and whimpered in protest, but her struggles were getting more and more feeble. The more hot and swollen her pussy became, the longer he rubbed her greedy little love-bud, the less she felt like fighting him. After all, five years was a long time to be faithful to a dead husband. She was still young, she still had normal female needs. Didn't she have a right to sex?
Pat struggled with her conscience while Brock played with her pussy. She couldn't deny that it felt delicious to have her clit stroked. Her horny little joy button was going stiff and wet and throbbing from his touch. Then he added to her excitement by using more stroking fingers in her lush red gash. He tickled the plump rosy lips of her pussy, rimmed the oozing hot mouth of her cunt.
'Oh, God,' Pat whimpered.
She felt torn in half. Her conscience kept screaming that it was all wrong to let herself go with a man she'd met just half and hour ago. But her body wanted to submit to him, to let go completely, to make up for five long years without sex. She couldn't make up her mind, didn't know what to do – and all the while Brock went on caressing and teasing her hot little slit, making her wildly lusty.
