The Time & Place:
The Palais de Justice, a late fall evening, 1489. Frollo’s postmodern
lady pays him a visit only to find the man swamped with work. Oh well,
she has work to catch up too. But all work and no play is not good...
…Yes, the caress…
They sat opposite of each other, both continuing to work on their respective projects. He had a pile of outstanding warrants to be signed and a week’s correspondence that needed to be answered immediately. She was presently working on a stack of essays awaiting correction.
But work wasn’t totally on their minds, indeed, the conversation consisted mostly of small talk and other pleasantries. It was the unspoken words, the occasional non-verbal and outright lustful gazes these two divergent people exchanged which kept things from getting too boring.
“Uh, Nisha,” asked Claude politely as he quickly penned a letter, “is that a new outfit? It suits you so well…”
“No, Claude,” she replied in a honeyed voice, oblivious to the deliriously erotic charge it gave Claude, “I bought this a few years ago…”
The outfit in question was a black leather ensemble consisting of a calf-length slim-fitting skirt, a form-fitting vest, and a silky black blouse. High-heeled shoes and huge gold earrings completed the ensemble. Claude Frollo drank in her overwhelming beauty: the deep caramel toned skin, the shapely figure (“Full-bosomed, broad-hipped, the legs – Oh my God, those legs!”), the warm October-brown eyes that, for this evening, twinkled with both playfulness and passion. He couldn’t stand another moment not touching her.
Come on, Claude, we both have work to do…Can’t let distractions get in the way…Have to get this all complete before night’s end…
…But all work and no play can make Claude Frollo a very dull man. Oh damnation, that unwitting feeling in those forbidden regions…
He smiled at her all the while the familiar tightening of his loins nearly drove him into a fit of throbbing, unfulfilled lust. Watching her purse those full, moist, black cherry lips, then gazing at strands of wavy, glossy black hair tumbling about her face. Oh damn! What must I do? Wrestle her to the floor and ravish her on the spot, just to rid myself of a good…Uh…what she calls ‘a good hard-on’…
Such violence is never employed, not for her…She is far too refined for that…Ah, instead, perhaps a little distraction…
With that thought in mind, Claude Frollo, in the throes of unreciprocated passion, ‘accidentally’ dropped his pen on the floor.
“Oops, must have slipped…”
Like clockwork, she dove under the table to retrieve
the pen. “I’ll get it, sugarbritches,” she said with a slight drawl and
twang. Geesh, Claude, you could’ve been a little more creative than
the old ‘Oops, I dropped my pen.'
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Now, if Claude Frollo is so bent on having his way with me, then why doesn’t he just tell me? Quit playing these games ‘cause I want to jump your bones so damn bad….
Fully aware of his true intentions, Danisha played along with her man’s quandary: Ignore the hard-on or devise a way to get Nisha ‘in the mood’.
Nisha, a 30ish woman with a full-blown sexuality that bubbled furiously beneath a veneer of elegance and refinement, had trouble keeping in check. Ever since she arrived, Danisha employed all the willpower she could muster just to keep her hand off Frollo. No, I came here to catch up on work; he has work to do, too…But girl, look at him!
She’d been salivating all evening; being within ten feet of this man sent that sexuality into overdrive. All throughout the hour or so she sat across from Claude, she felt his vibrations upon her. She pressed her thighs tightly together, just to bring on impending orgasm after orgasm. The throbbing wetness down there – The pelvic muscles clamped down hard, putting greatest pressure on the already engorged clitoris. Ooh! Ah! Umm!
She shifted her gaze from her papers to his face,
that pale, angular, sharp face. That mesmerizing gaze and the bright broad
grin did the trick and sent her into a fit of twitching desire. Come on,
Claude! Nail me already! Give it to me, Claude Frollo! I want to feel your
body next to mine…I want to taste you on me, and myself on you…
Danisha, overcome with desire, yet managing not to show it, shifted in her chair uneasily. No doubt Claude noticed this; that was when he dropped the pen.
Of course, Nisha had to get a few smart jokes in before she and Claude got – ahem! – ‘Down to business’!
~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Claude Frollo, this looks so used up.”
“Darling, it is perfectly fine…”
“No, you really could use a new one…”
“Danisha, kindly get out from under that table…”
“But Claude, this is so ratty looking; it’s all mangled and the tip isn’t…”
“It has served me well thus far; I have no intentions of…”
“But it’s all clogged up! The tip is all nasty with gunk and…Damn, honey, at least let me do…”
“Oh no, Danisha! I am not about to use one of those horrid 20th Century gadgets – those ‘ballpoints’. Ugh!”
“Gee, Claude, it’s just a pen. Here, let me get my
good fountain pen…you know, the one with the 24K gold nib…the one that’s
very
expensive!”
~~~~~~~~~~~~
“I thank you for the pen,” said Claude graciously,
although it wasn’t what he had in mind as he resumed his work. Damn,
I was sure she’d at least nail me under the table…No matter…I can employ
one more tactic…
“No problem, baby,” replied Nisha as she got up to
pour wine for herself and Claude. She made it her point to walk with just
the right amount of wiggle. There! Maybe he can savor me walking away….
He always said that was one of his favorite views…
“Ladies first” my foot! He just likes to watch me walk; he said it always
gave him a charge…
“Claude, why don’t you spell it out,” she finally demanded as she walked sensually toward him. Ah, the finest female form I’ve yet to behold…every inch – every luscious inch – is mine…
With sinuous wriggling, she approached him, sending
him into another throe of passion and pleasure. Oh, how the tight leather
molded to her body like a second skin as she slithered up to him so deliciously.
We are alike – we can’t contain those feelings for long.
“Danisha,” he said breathlessly, as he arose from his chair. Now she could feast her eyes upon his luscious body. Clad in a form-fitting black velvet doublet and matching silk hose, Claude Frollo slinked his long slender body to the floor. Danisha recognized the signs: the writhing body, the slender fingers caressing his every inch, the soft moaning, the hungry whispers, “Come join with me…”
After setting the wine cups on the table, she immediately stretched her hand out to him. He in turn grabbed her and pulled her to the floor. There they felt hands on each other, unzipping, unbuttoning…
Then the inevitable…Thrusting, groaning, squeezing, throbbing…Orgasms so intense…
"HAVE MERCY!"
…And that was just His Honor coming.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Now let me get this straight…”
“I thought we already had something straight between us…”
“That was funny, Claude…”
“Danisha, I want you to know that I had every intention of finishing my work…”
“All work and no play…”
“Make us very dull people, Nisha…”
“Claude?”
“Umm?”
“I want to play again…”
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