Sunday Snog #187: The Interview

Happy Sunday!

I’ve got a naughty bit of a kiss for you today, from my unpublished short story The Interview.

If you like this sexy little snippet, head over to the Oh Get A Grip Blog on Monday and you can read the full story. A warning, though: it’s triple-X rated. Definitely not work safe!

Once you’re done here, why not visit Victoria’s Sunday Snog page to see what other kisses are on offer today?

"What are you doing?" Fascinated, Tim watched me wriggle out of my panties and stuff them into the potted plant beside the door.

"Intuition. I have a feeling that we're more likely to get this job if I arrive sans underwear."

"Lisa, you've got an overactive imagination."

"Oh, yeah? 'Attractive, sociable couple wanted for care-taking, housekeeping and related duties'. Sounds to me like they have more in mind than just trimming the shrubbery and making sure they don't run out of paper goods."

"Well, maybe..." Tim looked worried, but I noticed his fly was bulging. "Where are they, anyway? It's three, isn't it?"

"Ten past. Why don't you ring again?"

We heard the bell through the door, then silence. A breeze lifted my dress and caressed my freshly-shaved pussy. I shivered with excitement.

Tim's hands clenched and unclenched as we continued to wait.

"Relax, baby."

"Maybe this isn't such a good idea. It's not the seventies anymore, but Roger Myers and Tess Montoya are still notorious. Life in the fast lane. Hard liquor, hard drugs, kinky sex..."

"Sounds okay to me..."

"Come on, Lisa. We couldn't handle that kind of life."

"Better than student loans and sky-high West LA rents. This could be our chance to get out from under." I stroked his growing hard-on. "I know you're nervous, but you're just as curious as I am. Full room and board, a decent salary and a Bel Aire address - what do we have to lose?"

He began to object. I cut him off with a deep kiss. He couldn't help responding. He thrust his tongue down my throat, cupped my butt, and pulled me tighter. My dress rode up. I ground my bare pubes against the lump in his trousers. I didn't care about the wet spot I was making on the khaki. I just wanted more, more of his familiar musky smell, more of his mouth, more of the electricity that sparked up my spine whenever my clit mashed against his body.