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’ I blushed. ‘Yes sir.’ I had been expecting that. I unbuttoned my blouse and removed it. I lay it on the piano. My breasts were exposed and my nipples were hard. I stood and faced him. He smiled. ‘Hold this book.’ I held it with two hands in front of me and he began to press down on it. ‘Sing.’ I sang. ‘No. Ok — lay down on the floor.’ I did so. I was glad there was a carpet. He placed the book on my tummy. ‘Hands at your side. Now breath.’ I did, the book raised and lowered. ‘Now sing and don’t change anything.’ I sang. ‘Ok, stand up.’ He came over to me and put his hand on my tummy and pushed, his other hand on my ass. ‘Sing.’ I sang. As I sang he unfastened and unzipped my skirt and let it fall to my ankles. ‘Keep singing.’ I did and as I sang I was aware of his hands wandering all over — my tummy, breasts, ass, pussy, between my legs. I was starting to get wet and was embarrassed that it might become obvious. Finally I stopped. He stood up and returned to his seat. ‘Very good,. There was another note on the counter top, beside an empty silver bucket and a bowl of expensive, individually-wrapped Belgian chocolate.Make yourself comfortable, gorgeous. Call me when you're in, and I'll bring the champagne.Gorgeous? I thought. Hardly. But then ... well, I was standing in front of the mirror, so I tried to see what he saw in me. I was only of average height, and I'd inherited all the Scots genes the family had to offer; green eyes, auburn hair, and pale skin dusted with freckles. Like all redheads, I had to worry about the sun, but at least in my case it seemed only to add to my freckle collection. I smiled experimentally, thrust my chest out; I at least took after my mother, with the soft swell of C-cup breasts straining now beneath my knitted jumper. About the only thing I really appreciated in my looks, though, were my eyes; green with gold flecks, they always drew compliments.Popping a chocolate in my mouth, savouring its flavour, I hurriedly undressed,.
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