Pleasure Before Business


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The atmosphere in the office is midnight-hushed. A purple, churchlike softness falls upon each surface, muffling and blurring the shadows in the intoxicating darkness, except for that lit island in the centre of the long room where I know my lover sits.

Standing in the doorway, I check myself briefly in the black mirror of the window, an entire wall of glass holding the secrets of the dazzling, dizzying city below, cradling its lights in that dark surface. There I am, superimposed on the dark night, larger than life, a Fifty Foot Woman. It suits me. I was moulded to be an icon or a gun moll, my Irish red hair bobbed and shining, lips as bright as a halved strawberry, eyebrows swooping in dramatic arches. I look good, especially in this outfit- a tight lawn-green jacket, the hem of the tiniest black skirt I own barely skimming the lace-trimmed tops of my smooth, shimmery hold-up black stockings, and my highest, strappiest, most fuck-me shoes. The window throws my reflection back at me, and I can't help but smile, knowing that even my best intentions haven't managed to douse the expectant flames in my eyes.

I cast my eyes down and try for a tired, pious, what-the-hell-are-you-still-doing-at-the-office look. It doesn't work. I still look like a woman with wet panties. Which I would be, if I was wearing any.

She speaks before I do.

"Terry, what are you doing here?"

The woman I love is giving herself a hard time.

This is hardly a novel thing. Alyssa and I have been together for five years- since college, that is-and I know perfectly well that she's a workaholic. I also know that tomorrow's a big day for her, she has to give a speech to the board, and usually, I'd leave her alone to finish this, but the poor thing has such a bad cold. She's had the sniffles for almost a week, letting loose with the occasional explosive, "EhhTISSHHOOO!" to intensify my pleasure at anticipating having a stuffy, snuffly, cold-stricken girlfriend.

Five years, you know, is a long time- we're only human, and neither of us are libidinous teenagers any more. I'd be lying if I said the sex hadn't taken a bit of a nosedive recently, but when Alyssa catches a cold, things always seem to hot up, and this morning she woke me up with a bed-shaking fit of the sneezes that didn't seem even to start easing off until she came down to breakfast. She hurried off to work before I could tuck her into our big, luxurious bed and spoil her rotten- which is something she would never have done a year ago- but all day I've been thinking about those dramatic, helpless, juicy sneezes. Unfortunately, she doesn't know about my fetish, so I can't just scream at her, "You're driving me crazy- jump my bones for God's sake!" whenever she embarks on one of her long, laboured sneezing fits. I called her at lunchtime, and she sounded so deliciously scratchy and sneezy that I had to slide my hand into my pants and beg her to call in sick for the afternoon- but Alyssa would never call in sick. Alyssa is Miss Overtime. Which is why I'm here.

You said you wouldn't work late tonight," I scold her. You need your rest for the presentation tomorrow, love."

She sighs deeply, and when she speaks again I notice her voice is hoarser and about an octave deeper. "I know, but this isn't going well."

Her long, thick blonde hair is knotted up into a slowly exploding corona, her reading glasses are slipping precariously down her reddened nose and the bags under her eyes have become Samsonites. A litre ceramic cup with a yellow cat on it, full of syrup-thick black coffee, hovers next to her elbow, waiting to get knocked and disgorge its lukewarm contents onto a thick wad of notes. I move it, staring at the words she's churning out ticker-tape style. The air around her is thick with stale smoke- Alyssa, who only ever smokes non-weed-adulterated cigarettes when extremely nervous, is chaining Reds as well as chewing Rennies. She looks like the Pro-Plus Postergirl.

"You should go home," she snaps curtly at me. "I'm not gonna be done here for a while."

Make that Prozac.

"What's wrong with the speech?"

"I don't know." She sniffs and furiously swipes her nose against her wrist. Then she says crossly, matter-of-factly, "I can't do this, Terry."

"What the hell are you talking about? You're a shithot speaker. I mean, I know I've never seen you in action, but even Calvin says so, and you know what he's been like since he was the Union VP."

She rests her forehead on the back of her hand, eyelids falling like crimped paper shades, and when she speaks, she sounds as if she's going to shatter into sobs. "I've fucked up."


Her usually steady, rich voice is crackingly brittle. "I... I can't think. This is the worst timing ever."

I put my hands on her shoulders. "Alyssa. Listen, girl- hey. Earth. Can you even hear me?"

She remains unresponsive for a moment and then mutters, "I hear you. You got anything to say, that..." She shivers. "That's the issue...that's, that's it..."

"You're panicking. Happens to all of us. Alyssa." I register her shocking heat through the thin silk of her blouse. She's got the kind of fever I recall from childhood. "You're shivering. You know that? You chilled?"

"Hot. No. I don't know."

Her voice and her face seem to have been rubbed raw with exhaustion and illness. The poor thing doesn't have a cold- the cold has her. And God forgive me, but I love to see my powerful, businesslike Alyssa controlled, especially by something as human, as defenceless-seeming as a cold, even if it means she's this tired and miserable. I kiss her lightly on the back of the neck, and feel her shiver, knowing I have the power to make her feel better. Even- especially- sick like this, she looks beautiful. She's wearing a thin apricot silk blouse, a tailored jacket and trousers which own the concept of tightness, her face is perfectly made-up as always, and her poor nose is deliciously red, her cheeks fever-flushed, making her green eyes look brighter and her waist-length hair blaze and crackle like sun steeped corn. Tired though she is, Alyssa's suffused with kinetic energy. It's going to talk her a while to calm down.

"Are you the only one here, love?" I ask.

She shakes her head. "No. Susanna, Damien and a few others are still in the conference room next door. They're talking through the presentation tomorrow but I bowed out early to finish this."

"Are you finished actually writing the speech, then?"

"I'll never be finished." She's in a hard, caffeine-edged frame of mind which makes her usual single-minded purposefulness look anaemic.

"I know that. You fucking workaholic. But how long is this?" I clock the immense amount of k's in the top right corner of the screen. "Have you read it out to yourself?"

"Yeah." She sniffles. "About an hour and a half."

"And how long does it have to be?"

"Half that. Forty-five minutes."

"You need an editor."

She nods, sniffs, ducks her head and rubs at her twitchy nose. "Sorry- I think- I'm- I- aaaihhhhTSCHchooo!"

I kiss her lightly on the top of her head. "Bless you."

She sniffs wetly and I hand her a Kleenex. I may not be wearing any underwear, but that doesn't mean I don't come prepared.

"New perfume?" she sniffs.

"Yeah. Gaultier's latest- Cathy and I went shopping this afternoon. I love it...but it sounds like it's getting up that gorgeous nose of yours."

"It's nice," Alyssa says guilelessly, and smiles, looking more like herself, before giving her nose a strong, thorough blow. "Just makes my nose...huehhh..." she smiles again at me, shamefacedly, "huhh- tickle!...hehhh- ahhhhCSSHHHHOO!...sorry." She sniffles into the Kleenex- Alyssa gets such wonderfully messy, snuffly colds.

"Oh, bless you, love. Are you sure it's my perfume giving you the sneezes?"

"Dot sure," she says stuffily. "Bid sdeezig by head off all day."

"Poor babe." I swallow hard, for more than one reason- I can tell that she's holding her breath.

Alyssa pinches her nose firmly between forefinger and thumb, concentrating on the screen with watery eyes. She looks achingly miserable.

"Honey." I hear my voice crack, and clear my throat. "Is your poor nose bothering you?"

She nods vehemently and says in a tight, nasal, foghorning voice, still clutching her nostrils together, "I thigk I godduh sdeeze!" A shivering, tremulous breath. "Really...uhuh!-really bad."

"Alyssa, don't hold your nose like that. You're gonna explode. Just let it out."

"I deehh...deed a tissue..."

I hand her another tissue, and she clamps it safely to her nose. Then she looks up at me with glazed eyes. Slowly, the need in her eyes ebbs away, leaving only mystification and irritated tears. She laughs shakily and puts the tissue down, her nostrils still massively flared, looking fragile and still very sneezy.

"Did't seeb-" she sniffs deeply, "to wadt to cub out." Another sniff. "God, I hate how that feels!"

I pout at her- I still love winding her up. "Aww. You still look like you have to sneeze, love." And I want her to sneeze- to let loose with one of her incredibly sexy, spraying sneezes, to watch the tension course through her and then trickle away, leaving her limp with satisfaction.

She snuffles, holding a finger against the soft flesh beneath her wide nostrils. "Umm... I thigk so... it just... hehh... feels straidge... sort of tigly... uhh!" She rubs her nose furiously. "Ad it's drivig be crazy!"

Impulsively, I lean over and put my arms around her shoulders, holding her tight, trying to avoid direct finger contact with the massive, powerful shelf that her breasts form beneath her thin silk blouse.Alyssa leans back, clearly relishing the contact and the affection in it, and kisses me lightly on the neck- an erogenous zone, but not an erotic gesture, her burning lips feeling as though they leave their brand on me. I remember the perfume again and, feeling the twitchy, damp tip of her nose- chilly, in contrast to her scorching mouth- brush and tremble against the soft, scented flesh of my neck, I realise the damage is well and truly done already.

"Oh, Terry, I... hehhhh. I... I gotta..."

She tries to shift away from me, but I carry on holding her, my neck against her face, bracing myself for the onslaught. It comes, fast and heavy, leaving her helpless, all control gone as she shakes against me. I have to keep holding her close- not just for my pleasure, but for her comfort.

"Ehhhh- eahhhh...uuhhhhTSSCCCHHH! Ahhhh-TISSHHOOOO! Ehhhhhh...EEHHH-ICHOOO!"

Even as I feel the great sneezes ripple through her powerful body, feel her shake orgasmically against me, I'm just as touched by her hitching, high-pitched breaths, her warm, wet, childish snuffles against my neck, her utter helplessness.

"uhh...heeehhh...EhhhSHEEOO! Hehhh...hehhhhh-IHHTISHOO!"

She finally succeeds in breaking my not-entirely-compassionate armlock on her, and erupts with a final, dramatic, explosively wet, "yhheaaahhh...AHHHH-EHTIHSHHHOOO!"

"Bless you, beautiful."

All right, so its not just comfort I want to give her. Already I can feel that tiny, tender pulse beating inside me, deep in the fever-hot cleft of my cunt, and know as the speed and intensity of the pulse increases, that I'm becoming quite dangerously wet. I've been slightly damp all day, even doing the most mundane things, a rising tide of excitement carrying me through the day as I sat at my own computer terminal, went out for lunch with Cathy at Angie's Cafe, watched some sitcoms, picked at some spaghetti, and finally, the urge to be fucked controlling my every thought, bathed, dressed and jumped in the car.

Alyssa sniffs. "Uhhh." Sniff. "Scuse be, huddey, that was, uh..." Is she flushed, or blushing? "Idtedse."

"You're telling me, beautiful." I kiss her on the forehead. "Oh, your poor nose sounds so stuffy."

She sniffs again, sounding as though she's hardly taking in any air through her clogged sinuses, her breath whistling as she snuffles thickly for air. "Jesus," she mutters, her voice sounding as though it's been faded, wrung out to a shadow of its usual powerful self. "That perfume...ohhh!..." she bats me gently away. "I think I'm....hhheHHHISHHmmm!...allergic to it or something."

"Are you sure it's not just your cold, giving you a tickly nose?" I tease, but I know it's something else- Alyssa isn't usually a very sneezy girl, and now she looks as if her poor cold-stricken nose is on fire. She hardly ever comes down with colds, which is why when she does, it seems as though all the chills, coughs and sniffles that she swears she never gets suddenly burst on her with the unexpected fury of a tropical storm. And she doesn't have allergies, which is why her certainty that my perfume's too much for her surprises me.

Then again, perfume does sometimes tickle her resilient nose. A month ago, when I was trying out a new strong perfume- a gift from my cousin Beatrice who's an Avon lady, say no more- for the first time, we'd been eating breakfast (chocolate spread, peanut butter and caramel on toast- Alyssa's permanently on a diet, but I do like to tempt her into eating wicked, calorific, childish food sometimes) and watching some old Cary Grant movie side by side on the couch, when, clearly feeling a little sexy, Alyssa had leant forward to kiss me just under my ear, where I'd applied the perfume. A few seconds later, absorbed in the film, I'd heard Alyssa give a muffled explosion which could best be described as a cough with a little nasal involvement, holding her hand to her quivering nostrils. Knowing that couldn't be all, thanking God that I had been heavy on the perfume that morning, I'd whispered, "Bless you," and leant across to give her a comforting kiss on the forehead, making sure that my scented neck pressed against Alyssa's wildly twitching nose. The reaction had been fabulous- my lover, clapping her hands to her nose, had taken in an enormous, wound-up intake, "HeeAHHHHH-" and then somehow managed to smother it, as the rest emerged as a tiny, stifled, nasal "chh."

I could cheerfully have hit her with the nearest object, but I resisted the temptation to beg her never to mess with my head like that again. That sneeze had been incidental, and besides, I'd really hated the perfume so I didn't wear it any more, although in idle moments I have thought about what it would be like to take a bath in the stuff and then come to bed with my lover, or drench my underwear in it and coax Alyssa into undressing me, stripping me slowly the way she likes to, teasing me the way she does by running her nose and lips softly against the drenched silk or cotton shielding my cunt, that contact so close and still never managing to push me over the edge until I'm mewing and crying like a hungry child. Sometimes, when she gets that close to tonguing me, even sometimes extending the tip of her talented tongue and pressing it lightly against the cleft between my labia, or even, to drive me really wild, my clit, I have fantasised feverishly about that perfume creeping into her nose, surprising her into a great, powerful sneeze that sends her forward, my soft wetness filling her mouth, her nose and mouth sending me into an orgasm.

This slowness is what Alyssa goes for. She's into rules, games, preliminaries- baths, massages, drinks, maybe a joint or two, before sex, which is delightful enough when you're in the mood for a long, five-part, carefully co-ordinated cycle of teasing, withdrawal and fulfilment in her massive, luxurious, four-poster bed. This is when we play at being married- we fuck, we get take-out Chinese food, we watch late-night TV, cuddle a bit, and go to sleep in each other's arms. Me, I like to surprise her. I like to meet up with her for lunch and run my foot up her leg under the table, staring at her from beneath bowed lashes and flirting until her insides are too sex-knotted to eat, then make her lunch on my pussy in the toilets of the restaurant, biting my hand to stifle my cries. I like to fuck her at concerts, in clubs, on trains, in the dark tree-glades near our house. I like to run my hand up her inner thigh while she's driving and force her to pull over before she comes explosively in the middle of rush-hour traffic. What I like most about surprising her is that it makes her angry to be controlled by her urges, it makes her hot and flushed and bothered, makes her swear at me, slap my hands away, moan, cry, lose herself entirely and know that she's losing herself, murmur bittersweet insults into my ear when she knows she's lost. And I love to control her. Love to feel her clinging onto me when she comes, as though she's drowning, rigid and almost scared before she lets herself go, never thinking for a minute to trust me, to know that I'll be there, even though I always am. This is who she is. Who we are.

But there are some things we've never done.

And what I want to do now is one of them.

I watch as Alyssa forcibly tries to swallow another sneeze, and I can't help myself- I sit down on her lap, curling myself into the shape of her, feeling her curvy, fever-warm body shift to accommodate me.

"Oh, Terry," she sighs, half-exasperated, half-pleasured. "Why else did I even think you'd come here at midnight? TLC?"

I kiss her neck lingeringly, feeling it vibrate with the hitching of her breaths as my skirt rides up- I feel the abrasive wool of her tight black trousers against the soft skin of my bare buttocks. "If that stands for, 'To Lick your Cunt,' yes." She laughs low and rich and I writhe against her. "Or have you lick mine."

"I can' t, honey, I really have to work." My perfume startles another sneeze out of her. "Hurr-AASSCHhooo!"

"And I really have to come," I moan in response.

Her green eyes are wide, dark, tempted. "You're not kidding, are you?"

"Touch me and see if I'm kidding."

Alyssa never can resist a challenge. She slides her hand between my parted thighs and lets out a soft, desperate groan. "You're not wearing any underwear..."

"I can't," I tell her in that little-girl voice that always gets her excited. "They'd just get all wet. I've been so horny all day."

She slides a finger into me and as I shiver against her she laughs, her voice tight and sweet with joy and arousal. "Oh, honey, you do need it, don't you?"

I laugh shakily too. I don't want to have power over her now- I want her to control me entirely. "What makes you think that?"

She kisses me as though to soothe me, although she must know it isn't working. Because, sweetheart-" she removes a fluid-coated finger and shows it to me gravely, "Your beautiful little pussy is absolutely dripping. And you're hot as a pie. What's got you like this?"

"You don't know..." She strokes my plumped, slick lips, one finger almost but not quite coming to rest inside me, and I moan. "I've been thinking about you all day."

I move so I'm facing and straddling her, my cunt in her lap and my hands on her shoulders for balance, one leg on either side of hers, my skirt rucked up around my waist. I look at her long enough for her to know how I'm burning, and, as if under a spell, she begins to touch me and I squirm and writhe and struggle to have her more deeply inside me. I've trimmed my bush to almost nothing the way she likes, a soft fuzz of dim fire against my pubic mound, clipped so the outrageously pink lips of my cunt protrude suggestively, and her fingers slip right inside easily, riding against my drooling slickness.

I know the perfume at my throat is still strong, and I can tell her poor nose is starting to react. "Ehhh..." she breathes, and, to my chagrin, takes her fingers out of me. "huhEHEhhhh..."

"Oh, don't," I beg her. "Don't stop."

"But honey, your perfume..." she sniffles, her already moist nostrils becoming genuinely runny in her efforts to hold back the oncoming sneeze. "You wouldn't believe what it's doing to my nose!"

"I don't care. Touch me..."

"But Terry, I reahhh-lly hahh...have t-t-to sneeze!"

Furiously, I grind against her fingers, wanting them in deeper. "So sneeze!" I can feel the flesh of her breasts rise and fall with her need to explode as I writhe against her, desperate to come.

"Ehhhh..." she breathes frantically. "Eeeehhhhh..."

Her fingers start to slip in my wetness, slipping in deeper, and somewhere through the haze of her sneeziness she registers my moans, obediently sliding her long, eager fingers right into me. I smell the sex-heat rising from me, mingled with my perfume.

"I...ehhhh...I cahhh...can't sneeze now..."

She's trying furiously to hold it back, holding the forefinger of her free hand beneath her wildly flaring nostrils. Her build-up escalates unbearably.


I realise dimly that I'm actually about to come. I can't believe it- usually it takes a lot more than this to get me off, but I have to come right now!


I can't ask her to touch my clit, although I desperately need it, so I slide my own hand down the taut waistband of my skirt, down the naked curve of my belly, through my soft bush and then- ummm- finding my clit, a tiny, insistent, blood-throbbing erection, and touching it, almost too hard, my finger nudging against it and then rolling all around its slick base, rubbing and rubbing, as Alyssa's fingers fill me and she shakes as the sneeze builds to an explosive head.

I moan and Alyssa, terrified but aroused, shushes me. "There are people-" she gasps, "just down the hall..."

I can tell that she's going through absolute torture, and I'm loving it. I watch hungrily, playing mercilessly with my clit, as her nostrils flare immensely and ready themselves to blow. I watch her so intently that I almost feel her urge to sneeze myself.

"I can't help it," she whispers, her voice a thin, tight-stretched silver string. "I...Iahhh..." but the tickling's so wonderfully intense that she can't manage the rest.

"Ehhh… EHHHCHOO! uuhhhehhhhCHOOO! EeehhhSHOOO! EeehhhhCHOOO! EhhhhIHHHSHOOO!"

In me, her fingers jolt and are swallowed, push in further, harsher, past pain until her whole hand is inside me. The vibrations of her sneezes course through me as I come, stifling my cries by burying my head between her huge, warm, beautiful breasts.

"Honey," she says, when she can speak clearly again and I've let her have her hand back, "you never come that fast."

"I needed it."

"That's for sure..." she laughs, and sniffs heavily, wiping her nose on her wrist. "Sorry to break the mood, but have you got a tissue?"

I reach in my jacket pocket and pull out a generous wad of Kleenex. Then, just as she reaches for them, I slip off my jacket- I'm not wearing a shirt, just her favourite emerald-green satin bra with the black lace inserts and physics-defying uplift- and wedge the Kleenex between my breasts, thanking the Goddess for the miracles of the Wonderbra cleavage.

Most lovers, especially tired, cold-suffering women, would sigh and snatch them out of there- but then again, most lovers find me a little too much anyway. Alyssa, as I've explained, likes challenges. Grinning wickedly, she dips her head between my breasts- nowhere near as big as hers, but still satisfying handfuls, pushed up into smooth creamy hills- and rubs her nose obediently against the wad of tissues.

I feel the force of her blow as she defiantly exhales into the tissues, but fortunately, once she's cleared her nose, she makes the mistake I knew she was going to make- breathing in while her nose still rests against the soft flesh of my cleavage, where I applied the perfume most heavily.

She explodes uncontrollably, shaking against me, her building-up breaths soft, gentle and feathery against the rise of my breasts, the sneezes heavy, wet and strong, almost enough to make me climax again as she quivers with the onslaught of the perfume and I hold her, rubbing the beautiful column of her spine for comfort.


While her guard is down, I take my bra off and then start to undress her. She makes soft, half-hearted mewling noises of protest as I quickly deal with the buttons of her blouse, but she's in no position to fight back and soon it lies on the floor in a puddle of silk. Her bra is a great cantilevered creation, all antique hooks and eyes, specially constructed shells of stiff, pale golden lace which enable her enormous breasts to defy gravity. I run my hands briefly over its tight fastenings- it's a little too small for her, underwired or whaleboned, and sinks right into her delectable flesh. I deftly undo the fastenings, release her warm weight and cup the smooth, heavy heat of her breasts in my hands, feeling her nipples harden beneath my fingers.

"I thought this was going to be a quickie," she whispers, although I can feel her grinding against the seat of the chair- she has a direct line of arousal from her nipples to her cunt. I once read that some women can come just from having their nipples stimulated- if this is true, Alyssa's probably one of them.

"Why the hell would you think that?"

She rubs her damp, sniffly nose against the crook of her now-bare elbow and sniffs. "Well, honey, I'm not in such terrific shape tonight." Then her large, enquiring green eyes get that mean look in them that I love so much. "Although I must say, this is the hottest I've seen you in a long time. I wonder why..."

I'm not sure I like where this is going, so I unzip her flies.

"Terry," she whispers, and her voice cracks. "I've told you, there are people still working down the hall."


"And you know how I come, honey," she whispers in my ear. "I can't help it- I'm so loud!"

"Well, you're going to have to be quiet," I scold her, although frankly I wouldn't give a shit if she screamed down the walls, leaving us in a pile of rubble and glass five hundred feet above the city. I love the way she comes, so powerfully, unable to help herself, beautiful and vulnerable as she surrenders entirely to me and what I do. "I'm sure you can be quiet..."

"You're a fast worker, that's all I can say," she says admiringly. We both know it hasn't been like this for a long, long time. Too long.

"Life's too short for anything but fast work."

"Terry, you're crazy, and you're not supposed to be here. If someone came in..."

"It'll be good for you. Help you relax. Now shush."

Already I'm nudging aside the damp silk at her crotch, playing with the soft blond thistledown of hair that lies at the base of her tanned, biscuit-coloured belly, and slipping my fingers into her warm wetness, my mouth on hers, drinking in her deliciously familiar taste. Her mouth is rich with the bitter aftertaste of black coffee, ashy-tasting from her cigarettes, but I lick her clean and feel her, after a few moments, arching the slim bow of her pelvis towards me so her ravenous, feverish pussy swallows my fingers more deeply, even though I'm trying to tease her, gently and delicately brushing my fingers over her erect clit the way that always drives her crazy. As she bucks beneath me in the chair, her glorious breasts jut powerfully towards me and I move my mouth to her nipples, sucking first the left then the right, first gently teasing, running around her soft cappuccino-brown nipples with my tongue, biting them lightly and then sucking hard as a hungry baby, which makes her want to moan- but she resists.

The sight of her biting furiously on her finger to stifle her cries turns me on immensely, and as we make love in complete silence I am, for the first time, aware of the vibrations of human life in the building. Alyssa's right- we aren't alone. A gust of smoky laughter echoes down the hall, and there are footsteps, making us freeze, but they die away. Alyssa shivers in excitement and anticipation, though she might also be a little chilled; in the silvery, caressing light from the huge windows, her nipples have shrunken into miniature engorged erections, hard against my lips as if they'd been frozen, and I kiss them back to softness again, her flesh like liquid in my mouth. I'm so carried away making love to her that I almost forget the perfume- besides, she's shivering and shaking so much, her finger clamped firmly between her teeth, that I can't tell the vibrations of an oncoming sneeze from the rest of her contracting muscles as she readies herself for orgasm, until her nostrils widen hugely in the moonlight and begin to quiver. She looks so ridiculously, so radiantly beautiful in that wide silver light, trying to hold herself back from exploding, her face rigidly controlled as she reaches with her other hand to furiously pinch her disobedient nostrils and quell the sneeze, but her lower body out of control, riding wildly against my fingers, opening up to me as I sink deeper and deeper, her wet, heat-slick lips embracing my hand, shunting back and forth as her breasts, flushed with patchy sex-heat, tremble as she tries to suppress the urges to scream- and sneeze.

Then light bathes the hall behind us and I freeze.


I see it, over her shoulder, a flush of gold in the corridor where there was just blackness a moment ago.


Alyssa stiffens as she hears footsteps, coming closer and closer to the office, but she's too weak and receptive to push me away.

"Oh shit!" she moans, her voice still deliciously tight and shivery, her hand waving under her nose in that gorgeously ladylike way of hers that I can hardly resist. She crosses her arms over her full, bare breasts, looking around wide-eyed for her blouse.

"No time," I tell her, and pull her down under the desk.

We're both slim, petite girls, but it's still a tight squeeze in that dark, enclosed cavity. That dark, enclosed, dusty-as-hell cavity.

In less than a minute, it's not just Alyssa who has to sneeze. I feel a slight pinprick in the very back of my nose as I breathe dust, dirt, mouldering carpet. Alyssa's body shakes deliciously against mine as she tries hard not to let loose with her own explosion, and my own little tickle quickly builds up into an insurmountable urge...oh God, I really have to sneeze! And when I sneeze, they're even louder than Alyssa's, and never, ever come just once!

We lie there for what feels like hours, as the dust tickles and prickles our poor helpless noses. Squinting and frozen against each other, quivering with the urge to explode, we both pray the encroaching footsteps will pass by, but then the footsteps grow nearer and we know someone's in the room.

One light goes on- not the heavy arc-sodiums that rack the whole ceiling, but just a tiny glow suffuses the area by the door, and I see the silhouette of a woman against the wall of windows, a tall, statuesque creature who stands, hands obediently behind her back, clearly waiting for someone. She moves, as I did, to check her reflection in the window, and I see in the silver glow that it's Susanna- a co-worker of Alyssa's who I've always had a bit of a crush on. I do have a thing for big-breasted women, and although Susanna's about a cup size behind Alyssa, her breasts are still large by anyone's standards, round and deliciously weighty-looking in those gaping V-necks she loves to wear. More than once, Alyssa's told me off for staring at the deep ravine of Susanna's cleavage, but frankly I think she deserves the appreciation, even though I'm pretty sure she's straight.

Alyssa, sniffling, her breaths coming dangerously short, moves to rub her nose against her arm as she watches Susanna with watering eyes.

After a few agonising moments, someone else comes in- a shadow as tall as Susanna, slim, elegant and not as curvy, although the fall of her long dark hair and the soft, slight curves at her breasts and hips show she's definitely female, even in that dim, concealing after-hours light. She speaks in a low, husky whisper.

"I didn't think you'd come."

"Neither did I," says Susanna softly, and in a moment the two of them are in each other's arms.

The aureole of Susanna's red, curly hair blazes in the soft light, a strange sort of halo, as they kiss passionately.

My gaydar has failed me. Susanna has Leanings- or she's certainly acting like it, making hungry, gulping little noises with her mouth as the other woman reaches around Susanna's back and cups her high, rounded buttocks with both hands, squeezing them tight.

"Ohhhhh," Susanna moans. "Oh baby, I'm so glad you came. I've been thinking about you all day."

"Me too." The other woman begins to unbutton Susanna's chaste, high-necked blouse. "And I've especially been thinking about these."

Ah. A woman after my own heart.

Alyssa's frozen in surprise now, not terror- then she gives a little shivery laugh and whispers in my ear, "And I always thought I was the only lesbian around here."

"Who..." I rub my nose furiously, trying not to let her know how much I have to sneeze, "who's h...her friend?"

"Linda DeSantos," Alyssa whispers gleefully. "Secretary. She's married. Three kids." She turns her head, her gorgeous green eyes alight with concern as she registers my shivery discomfort. "You all right, honey?" she mouths, afraid of being heard.

I wrinkle my nose up to illustrate the problem. "I thihhh...think you gave me the sneezes," I whisper, trying to make light of our little problem.

Alyssa pulls me close and starts to tenderly rub my nose, but her touch is so gentle it just makes the tickle worse. Her own gorgeous face is twitching and seizing in response to her nose-tickles, and watching her struggle doesn't help- I start to do the same to her, though rubbing harder and hoping she gets the hint to do the same to me. She doesn't, but her own urge seems to ease off. I'm in hell- Alyssa's practically lying on top of me, but my face is close to the carpet, and every time I breathe it feels like I'm breathing pure dust.

"Oh, Terry," she whispers in my ear, clearly enjoying this precarious situation, "you look so funny! Your nose is twitching like a little rabbit's..."

I'm sure. I can practically feel my face scrunching up, becoming a mask of discomfort.

"Alyssa...I gotta..." I breathe against her hot neck.

"You can't," she says teasingly, sounding like me for a moment.

We hold each other tightly, Alyssa stroking my back to calm me as I snuffle into her bare, hot shoulder, our breasts pressed together, soft skin against the harsh nap of the carpet which scratches my buttocks and the flesh that stretches before the wet opening of my pussy- my skirt's still ridden up around my waist.

I watch Susanna and Linda undress each other in a strange, beautiful shadow-ballet, their clothes falling to the office floor like flowers moulting their petals. Watching them is an immense turn-on, even taking into consideration my discomfort, which I'm starting to find almost erotic. I can feel the sneezes rising from my lungs like bubbles, building up behind my nose which is buried in Alyssa's hot, downy shoulder, only dammed back by my furiously pressing my damp nostrils against that fragile skin, and the soft blonde hairs on her back and shoulders- the ones I love to kiss and call her "fur"- aren't helping. Every time I snatch a breath through my nose, those tiny hairs waft and tickle my nostrils, already clogged with grey office dust, wafting deeper and deeper into my sinuses.

Alyssa must feel how tense I am, how afraid I am of moving, and freezes in sympathy as we hear Susanna's soft breaths grow harsher, deepen into delicate moans as her lover, holding her prone against the wall, slips a hand between her thighs.

"Ohh..." murmurs Susanna to Linda. "Please. Please touch me."

I hear the harsh, silvery sound of a zipper being undone, and, catching a glimpse of cool, silvery lace, watch Susanna's trousers fall and puddle around her high-heeled shoes. I'm not sure why, but that metallic, zippery sound removes the last of my control, triggering something so deep and urgent in my poor abused nose that I have to sneeze, absolutely have to sneeze, and Alyssa knows- we're so familiar with the signals of each other's bodies that we may as well be each other sometimes, but what she proposes to do about this, I don't know.

I find out. She gently puts her hands in my tousled hair and lowers my head down between her generous breasts as my breath hitches more and more desperately.

"Go for it," she says softly, and because I trust her, I do.

It works- the soft hills of her breasts manage to muffle the sound of my sneeze entirely, diminishing the usual, powerful explosion to a muffled, "umptummmmph!..."

Feeling relieved, although my nose is still very tickly and I know I never sneeze just once, I raise my head and smile up to thank her. Then, as she smiles back and Susanna's moans grow louder and more urgent, I look into my lover's eyes and realise something.

She's turned on- not just by our almost-nakedness, not just by Susanna and Linda's lovemaking, but by what we just did.

And although she can't tell me, she wants me to know.


Grinning from ear to ear, Alyssa mouths, "Bless you."

Then her face contorts suddenly, though she still manages to smile, and she whispers, "Ohh, Terry, that made me feel so sneezy..."

Swallowing hard as my arousal rises, I rub her nose again, feeling her breaths come quick and harsh against my fingers, mirroring Susanna's gasps.

"Cahh...can't help it," she whispers teasingly. "Gotta sneeze now!"

"You know something, Alyssa?" I whisper back as I roll over, holding her slender, precious body on top of me and feeling the unmistakable weight of her pelvis as she grinds it into mine, "I don't think you're really trying."

"I am...hahhhh...I am..."

Strands of her long, silky blonde hair sweep across my face, re-awakening the cursed itch in my nose, as she buries her nose in my neck like a crying child.

Then she raises her head, and horror creeps across her delicate features.

"Oh God, your perfume," she mouths, and I see her nostrils twitch dramatically and flare. "Oh, Terry, I have to sneeze so much. I can't hold it back!"

She ducks down and buries her head between my breasts, even though she must surely know I'm drenched with perfume there too.

"UhUMMPpphh! EhhhmmmMPPP! UhMPPPHHH!...uh...ehh...hhehh...HUH-MPPPHHH!"

I feel the power of her sneezes course through her body and into mine, still struggling not to sneeze, pinching my nose tightly with my fingers, trying hard to hold my breath, the tickles worsening second by agonising second. God, it would feel so good to let loose with all those sneezes tickling my nose, let them explode right out of me, sneeze out all that dust and mucus and perfume before I explode...

Right then, Susanna comes, loud and long, her cries only partly stifled.

I take the opportunity to let loose a fusillade of sneezes, turning my head and pressing my nose and mouth into the dust-coated carpet, which triggers yet more tickles, but muffles the sound of my sneezes quite effectively. Not that the lovers would notice.

"Baby," says Linda urgently to Susanna. "Fuck me now, baby, please."

"Oh Jesus," Alyssa mutters, but I can actually feel her shaking with laughter. "We're gonna be here forever. You OK?"

I nod frantically, although her stifled giggles and my stifled sneezes have sent up yet more dust that's flying straight into my itching nose.

Alyssa's still straddling me, and I realise dimly that she's so wet I can actually feel it through her trousers. Can this seriously be turning her on the way it's turning me on? And how would I know? I've never sneezed in front of her until now- I don't sneeze in front of my lovers, though I've had a few close calls with Alyssa...after five years, anyone would. But I always stifle them...

No. This is ridiculous.

I try to tell myself not to get my hopes up, she's only excited by what we were doing before, by the noises Linda's now making as Susanna, on her knees, wraps her lips and tongue around Linda's waiting pussy- but now Alyssa's staring down into my face with an expression that has very little to do with fear, and damn near everything to do with lust.

I decide to experiment with her. "I have to sneeze, honey," I whisper pitifully- and I do. My nose is on fire from the carpet-dust, from watching and feeling Alyssa sneeze. Even my own perfume has finally started to conspire against me.

Her eyes, full of fire, widen with excitement. "Let me take your mind off it," she murmurs solicitously, and slides her hand under the ridden-up material of my skirt.

"Oh yes, Susanna," Linda's voice, throaty and stretched, spirals into the still air. "Oh Jesus, yes."

I'm in no position to resist- I'm turned on by Alyssa's sneezes, Linda's cries, my own helplessness, and I dimly feel myself rising towards her long fingers as she begins, slowly and wonderfully, to rub my clit, working it slowly, fingers pressing down hard as I cram my fingers into my mouth, my other hand pinching my nose, trying like hell not to let I want to let go...

My nose tickles fiercely, but the pleasure growing down there is almost enough to make me forget it. Linda's groans fill the air as Alyssa thrusts my fingers from my lips, crams her tongue urgently into my mouth, and I reach into her still-gaping flies, feeling her writhe against me, tongue still wrestling with mine. I dimly feel irritated tears trickling down the sides of my face, towards my ears, but my fingers in Alyssa's rich, moist folds and hers in mine are all I can think of, even though we both know that one- or more- of my colossal sneezes would easily alert the two women to our presence.

"Oh honey," moans Linda, not helping me much. "Oh honey, you're gonna make me come, I can feel it. I'm gonna come so fucking hard."

If I come, I'm going to lose it. I'm going to forget everything and sneeze my head off.

A low, rich giggle rises from Alyssa's throat as she sinks down onto me. Instinctively I breathe in, trying to hold the sneeze back still, but my nostrils flare uncontrollably, taking in deeper and deeper, faster and faster breaths. Even though my eyes are squeezed to slits, I can just make out the panic on Alyssa's face, fighting to make its presence known between the jolts of pleasure that are controlling her.

"Honey, hold it back," she whispers urgently. "I know you want to sneeze, but you can't. You can't."


It's stifled by a finger- not mine, but hers. She carefully rubs my runny nose, pressing my nostrils firmly, and I start to feel the urge dissipate a little. "Good girl," she whispers as I start to finger her again. "Ohhh. Good girl."

I take a rather cautious deep breath, still feeling as if my raw nasal membranes are going crazy, my body shouting at me- Why the hell aren't you sneezing?

Alyssa rides my fingers, and whispers, her lips hot against my ear, "Oh God...Terry...this is making me so horny." Her fingers slide deeper into me, cupping me, holding me.

With my free hand, I hold my finger under my nose, staring at Alyssa with that helpless look I so love in sneeze-plagued women, and she practically melts from sympathy and excitement.

"Aww," she cooes, tongueing the lobe of my ear. "Poor Terry's got a tickle..."

"Alyssa," I hiss, "you're making it worse!"

The urge grows as she speaks, and my head's starting to ache horribly from stifling my sneezes. I feel wretched, but at the same time wonderful, and I know that my body's betraying me even as I protest...I love the fear of getting caught, I love her power over me, I love this stubborn, teasing, sexy woman, and my body knows it, discharging hot wetness over Alyssa's fingers, embracing them as my muscles start to contract, my hips and hers clashing, riding together as we struggle to hold on to ourselves, keep what little control we have, when- with a full-blooded battle-cry worthy of Tarzan's Jane- Linda comes.

Under cover of Linda's highly vocal ecstasy, Alyssa moans as she orgasms, falling to rest on me entirely for a moment, and I bury my head between her breasts as I come too, letting loose with a volley of powerful, wet-feeling sneezes, feeling my body tremble in absolute relief.

"Ahhhummmpphh! umphmppph! AhHH-shmppff! shhuhhh-umPHH!"

Alyssa holds me tightly all the way through my fit, muffling the sneezes against her soft flesh, and when I finally raise my head from her chest, looking around me with streaming eyes, it's to see the door close and the lovers leave.

"Jesus," I mutter as we crawl out from under the desk, letting loose with my first unrestrained sneeze of the night, a powerful "AAATSSCHHOOO!" which bends me double and leaves me on the floor for a moment, sniffling dizzily and wishing I'd brought some more Kleenex. There are some things you don't plan for, after all.

Alyssa chuckles. "Bless you."

I rub my eyes and stare out into the office. I feel as though I've never seen the sky so dark. Alyssa stands up and stretches, looking wonderful as she arches in the window's silvery light, her huge, wonderful breasts rising up with her arms, long blonde hair cascading down her back, resembling nothing so much as one of those pornographic naked-lady lamps you can win in amusement arcades. Although even the most pornographic naked-lady lamp wouldn't be wearing an expression quite that dirty.

She turns to me and grins, and I can tell even in the dim light she's flushed.

"Terry..." she laughs. "That was so hot."

"I know."

We look at each other for a moment, hungrily. We have something new to play with. Her laugh cracks richly, spiralling out of her mouth like blues notes, into the night air.

"Where do you think Susanna and Linda went?" she says, coming towards me with a familiar little light in her eyes.

"Oh, home to bed, I think." I rise and kiss her, but I can already feel another sneeze building up in my poor sore nose, and I have to disengage and duck away from her, hands over my nose, and let out a heavy, wet, "HAAAHSSCHHOOOOO!" which jerks me forward in a clumsy bow.

"You know," she purrs, "I think that's where we should be going too, Terry. You sound as if you might be catching my cold."

I open my mouth to deny it, but then I see the brimming hunger in her eyes and nod as pathetically as I can for a woman with a still-raging libido. "I think I am," I tell her, my throat scraped hoarse by those tremendous sneezes. "But what about your speech, honey?"

"Oh, fuck it." She turns off the computer, then bends to pick up her bra and blouse. Out of habit, I fasten the back of her bra for her, spending a little too long fitting the underwire around each of her breasts. "I think we might have to call in sick tomorrow."

I just stand there, my hands on her breasts, embracing her for a minute. "You sound like you used to before you got all workaholic, love. Pleasure before business."

She laughs, her breasts trembling under my fingers. "We owe each other a lot of time in bed."

"Sometimes," I tell her, kissing her neck, "I think I know you too well."

"I know you think that," she says hurriedly. "But-"

"And then I realise I don't."

I feel her relax against me. "Really?"

"Not at all."

We stand there for a while, not saying anything, in the expansive darkness, feeling as if time has stopped and we've got eternity to get to know each other better.

And I don't know about her, but I'm glad.