“Well,” she said. “I can see your problem, Mrs.…”
“Plumswindle,” Felicity supplied. “He’s put his mouth on my parts down there, but I didn’t react the way you did.”
“How so?” The woman’s gaze fell back on Jason’s erect member, and the hungry look returned to her eyes.
“Do sit down, dear, and cover that thing so the nice lady doesn’t have to look at it,” Felicity said.
“Clarice Marker,” the woman said. “Mrs. Clarice Marker.”
Jason sat. “What am I going to cover it with? It won’t go back in my pants.”
“Then take your shirt off and use that to hide it.” Felicity smiled apologetically at the bank lady. “Men. What can you do with them?”
“What, indeed?” The deep tone of La Marker’s voice said she could think of several things right off the top of her head.
When Jason unbuttoned his shirt and pulled the tails from his pants, Mrs. Clarice Marker could now view his naked chest, and boy howdy, did she, all the way from the line of his collarbone down to his six-pack abs. Her sidekick was a treat for the eyes, and Felicity might feel a twitch of jealousy if this weren’t businesss.
“You were saying…” Felicity said.
“Hm?” Mrs. Marker jerked her attention from Jason back to Felicity. “Was I saying something?”
“About that…ugh…perversion my husband just inflicted on you. You wanted to know how my reaction was different from yours.”
“Ah, yes.” Mrs. Marker rose and straightened her suit. Then, she circled the desk again and resumed her seat in the executive chair. “Go on.”
“Well, you seemed as if you actually enjoyed what he did,” Felicity said.
“Are you two going to discuss me as if I weren’t here,” Jason interjected.
Felicity gave him an adoring gaze. “You’re a man, darling.”
He crossed his arms over his bare and very buff chest. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Everyone knows men are nothing but hormones attached to one of those thingies,” she said.
“Hey, I work my butt off to keep you in the style to which your mother always aspired,” he said.
“Don’t say butt.” She upped her gaze to sickeningly sweet. “We’re in a bank for gosh sake.”
“I can’t say butt in a bank?” His voice had risen in volume.
Wonderful. They were having a marital spat over a bunch of lies. They weren’t married. She didn’t care if she said butt, shit, or fuck in a bank. He didn’t work hard to bring home the bacon, and her mother never aspired to any kind of luxury at all. Still, it seemed to be convincing Mrs. Marker, who sat watching the whole thing with an assessing expression on her face.
“You can see what I’m up against,” she said to the bank executive.
“And as a decent woman, you’re repulsed by having him--”
“--eat pussy,” Jason supplied.
“Well, yes. It’s so, so…wet,” Felicity said. “Icky, don’t you agree?”
“I see.” Mrs. Marker picked up her phone and pressed a button. “Would you come in here, please?”
The young man from the outer office entered the room and closed the door behind him. “You needed me for something?”
“Larry, this is Mr. and Mrs. Plumswindle,” Mrs. Marker said.
Larry gave a tiny bow in Jason’s direction without appearing to take any notice of the way Jason was dressed, or undressed as the case may be. No doubt he witnessed all kinds of things in this particular bank all the time. Then, he turned his attention to Felicity.
Larry appeared to be in his late twenties and wearing the latest style of clothing for the fashionable, young banker. Well over six feet and with perfect blond hair and even teeth, Larry definitely fell into the category of pretty. Once he’d aged a bit and added a few lines to his face for character, he’d be a real knock-out.
“May I be of service to the Plumswindles in some way?” he asked.
“Mrs. Plumswindle,” Mrs. Marker said. “She needs to be put to the test.”
Well now, wasn’t that an interesting wrinkle? Put to the test, huh? That made sense in an in-your-face kind of way if they were talking about Wonderslut. What kind of test would you put a prude like Mrs. Jason Plumswindle to? Whatever it was, it involved walking to what looked like a cabinet on a side wall and opening it to reveal a bank of switches. When he raised them to the on position, panels descended around the room, blocking the walls and windows with soundproofing material.
She shot out of her chair, and so did Jason. His shirt fell from his lap, and what had been a full-on boner shrank to a limp weenie. Hey, Jason was good, but some things would daunt any guy.
“What are you doing?” he shouted.
She put a hand on his arm to calm him before he blew their cover. “Larry and Mrs. Marker must have an explanation, dear.”
“Security,” Mrs. Marker said. “I’m sure you understand.”
“She might,” Jason said. “I don’t.”
Felicity shot him a look. Except for her Slut Ray, they were unarmed. They couldn’t blast their way out of whatever security operations the bank had in place here. They’d have to talk their way out.
“The room is now sound-proofed,” Mrs. Marker said. “Why will become clear in a moment. Larry, the test.”
Larry approached her, unzipping his fly as he did. He reached into his pants and pulled out his flaccid cock. In no more than in instant, it swelled and elongated to full erection. A soft whooshing sound accompanied its growth. Pneumatics. Almost undetectable, but there.
Felicity pointed at his member. “That’s…”
“Larry’s a robot,” Mrs. Marker explained. “State of the art and exceptional at what he’s designed for.”
“And that would be?” Felicity asked.
“Fucking. He can change the dimensions of his member to his lover’s exact requirements. His programming has refined his technique in over seventy different sexual positions and twenty ways to stimulate a woman’s clitoris.” Mrs. Marker stopped for a breath. “And he never tires.”
“The devil you say.” Well now, Larry could prove really handy if she ever got a case of the wildass hornies and Jason weren’t around. Unfortunately, right now, she was doing her best to act like a prude who couldn’t even get off with some really good cunnilingus. If Larry tried even one each of his seventy positions and twenty ways of stimulating her clitoris, she’d end up climaxing loudly enough to bounce off the soundproofed walls.
Larry seemed intent on doing exactly that and more. He stopped close enough to her for the head of his cock to butt against her belly. It might have been created for utility, but the designers hadn’t skimped on beauty. It was perfectly proportioned, right down to the vein in the underside. And great…now she was staring at it as if she might start salivating.
“Would you kindly bend over the desk, Mrs. Plumswindle?” he said with as much intensity as he might ask her to hold to speak to his supervisor.
“Um…” She had to think. There must be some way to get out of this test. “Darling, don’t you have something to say to Larry?”
When no one answered, she swung her fist in Jason’s direction until he let out an oof. “Jason, sweetheart, are you really going to let this stranger molest me?”
“Molest?” He cleared his throat loudly. “Sir, I must insist you leave my wife alone.”
“Oh, please.” That from Mrs. Marker. “You’d expect a stronger objection from a marshmallow.”
Jason hadn’t convinced anyone he’d take any action against Larry, and he probably couldn’t win in a fight with a robot, anyway. Her own lecherous nature -- hey, an occupational hazard! -- had prevented her from showing the proper level of revulsion when she’d needed to. Her team was zero for two, and about the only way they were going to get permission to join one of Sly’s seminars would be for her to take their test and pass it. She sure didn’t want to alert Sly to the fact that Wonderslut was on his trail.
“Over the desk,” Mrs. Marker said. “If you want to convince me you’re as frigid as you suggest, you’ll need to prove it with Larry.”
“Desk?” she said.
“Desk,” Larry repeated.
Luckily, she’d dressed conservatively underneath her clothing. Unlike the bank lady, she’d worn panties and even pantyhose Larry would have his work cut out for him. As she rose and assumed the position over the perfectly immaculate, uncluttered desk, she didn’t even lift her skirt or slip.
“Now, see here,” Jason said behind her, sounding as of someone had poured the milk into his cup before the tea and not at all like someone who was NOT going to allow his wife to be shtupped by a robot.
Larry did the logical thing -- ignored Jason and pushed her clothing upward to expose her ass. Of course, then, he discovered all the other layers of material preventing him from making a simple entrance into her pussy. He only paused for a second before reaching to the waist band of her pantyhose and tugging them. He had to pull her butt up into the air to guide them over her belly and then shimmy them down over her legs. Once Larry had them around her ankles, she was more or less shackled because he hadn’t removed her shoes.
One wouldn’t think a robot could become frustrated, but Larry let out a huff. His programmers could have written his code a bit better to account for prudes and their clothes. She wasn’t about to help him. Every good mechanical fucking machine had to sink or swim on his own. After all, if she helped him, he’d never learn.
When he tugged at her shoes, she did lift her foot. Fair was fair. After the other side, he finally had her free of her stockings. That left her panties.
“What’s taking so long?” Mrs. Marker demanded.
“I’ve never seen so many layers,” Larry answered.
“My wife is a virtuous woman,” Jason tossed in.
“She’s a pain in the ass,” the bank lady said.
“Now, see here,” Jason tried and got no greater reaction than he’d received before.
This time, Felicity helped Larry. Resistance wasn’t getting her anywhere, anyway. In a few seconds, he had her butt exposed as well as the lips between her legs. She did her best to brace herself for a prolonged fucking by a well-endowed male. She’d have to pretend to hate every moment, but that would prove a little hard if she started having orgasms.
Whoever had built Larry had done a good job creating the feel of human skin and had even thought to provide the right body heat. The head of his cock eased into her, stretching her in the most delicious way possible. Against her will, her muscles clenched seeking more penetration. He obliged, pushing deeper. Man, but that felt good. She bit down on her lip to keep from releasing a moan of pleasure. Whether or not he’d heard anything, he thrust harder until he’d buried himself inside her. Then, he started moving for real.
He wasn’t as good as Jason, but who was? He launched an assault on all her nerve endings, anyway. In a moment, she’d fully lubricated, and he slid in and out easily.
“She’s wet,” Larry said.
“Normal reaction,” she said with as even a voice as she could manage.
“Really?” he said. “Because you feel as if you’re enjoying this.”
“And you would know, Mr. Robot?”
“He knows,” Mrs. Marker said.
He picked up the pace, now pushing into her with some force. She bit down on her lip and did her best to breath evenly. She had to do something to distract herself. Think of the states of the union in alphabetical order. Alabama, Alaska, Arkansas, Austin…shit this wasn’t going to work. Still, Larry kept up the stroke and slide in ways that had her toes curling into the carpet out of pure sexual pleasure. What a crime, what a fucking waste to waste a fucking as good as this on a stupid test. She ought to just climax, lose this round, and find some other way to get to Sly.
On the other hand, would the bank lady and her robot simply let them go if they discovered she and Jay were faking? They’d soundproofed the walls. They must have other security measures. Damn it. The only way out of this might be to pass the stupid test, after all. If only he’d please, please stop.
Will Wonderslut endure the fucking without having an orgasm? Will she and Jason win admission to one of Sly’s seminars? Will Larry ever tire? And are the eyes moving on the horse in the painting over Mrs. Marker’s desk?
Alice's website http://www.alicegaines.blogspot.com/
E-mail Alice authoralicegaines@yahoo.com
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