"Me! A night watchman!"
"It's a wonderful chance," she thrilled. "I've worked so hard for you, telling the personnel manager I know just the man to take on the job when Sergeant Tompkins leaves."
"From eight until midnight?"
"And there's nothing to do!"
"Six nights a week?"
"There's a snag about Sunday," she admitted. There has to be a night watchman all the time. So on Sundays it's from twelve midday to midnight."
"All this after I leave my office?"
"You'll have a couple of hours break," she pointed out. "I'll make up sandwiches for you in the morning. There's no point in eating out; it's too expensive."
"And then I get home at one o'clock in the morning and get up bright and early and go to work?"
"That's what I'm trying to arrange," she confessed. "But there's a slight snag. The regular night watchman starts at eight in the evening until four in the morning. But I'll talk to him. I might persuade him to change."
"Otherwise?" I asked grimly.
"It won't be so bad," she consoled me. "You'll relieve him at four in the morning. It'll mean going to bed early. But there's a big advantage. When you finish at eight you'll be within walking distance of your office."
"This is good news?"
"I wish you'd be more appreciative. Don't pull that face when you come up to the office. You'll be lucky to get the job!"
"I'll die if they turn me down!"
"All you have to do is sit drinking coffee," she said. "Occasionally you walk around the building. There's nothing to do. Nothing! So you can earn double money!"
"Double money?"
"Remember my cousin who works for an advertising agency? They're always sending out circulars. They give out the work to old people. They pay so much a thousand. All you do is fold up the circulars and put them in envelopes. It'll be something to do while you're sitting around."
"Isn't there something I can do with my feet at the same time?"
"Don't adopt that flippant attitude, Mike," she snapped. "Face facts. We'll have big expenses. Especially when I'm having a baby."
I stared at her hard. "We haven't had a baby yet."
She almost stamped her foot. "We're not getting married just for the fun of it. I'll have the home to look after. I don't intend neglecting it by going up to the office every day!"
We'd reached the pad. She said her last words on business. "I've said you'll call lunchtime one day next week to ask for the job."
With all hell ready to break loose over my head any minute, next week was a million years away, "Sure." I said. "You fix it."
I locked the door in case Dave came back early and opened the window to let out all the smell of the lusty passion Dave and Lucy had generated after I'd left them. Lillian had lined up the economic treadmill where I could step on to it easily, and now she switched on to the sexual treadmill. She sighed, all tender and loving. "I've been longing so much to be with you, Mike!" She slid her arms around my neck and molded against me, rubbing her pelvis so subtly against my prick I could easily have been convinced it was me doing the rubbing! "Forgive me being a teenie-weenie bit hurt you were late," she pleaded. "It's because I want to spend as much time with you as possible."
I rested my hands on her cute little bottom and jerked her up tight against me so her grinding pelvis could rub my prick more stimulatingly. There was something about Lillian that sent me. If she hadn't snarled me up in weddings and night watchmen's jobs, I wouldn't have had any squawks about her.
"Do nice things to me, darling," she whispered.
"What nice things?"
"Undress me. Slowly. With restraint. Not as though you want to screw me, but as though you're undraping me, and admiring me." Her hand feeled between us and found my stubby prick. "You do want to make me.feel nice, don't you, darling?" she wheedled, frictioning my cock briskly to make sure I gave her the right answer.
"Of course."
She must have cherished dreams she was Cleopatra. She. struck a pose and stood with queenly grace in front of the mirror. She admired herself. "Undress me slowly," she whispered.
At the back of my mind was the realization everything would soon blow up. This was our last session together and out of sentiment I wanted to make it memorable. I went along with her kinky mood and became her Nubian slave, attending upon her servilely, and humbly disrobing her. I unzipped her frock and eased it off her shoulders while she struck different poses that -enabled me to tug the sleeves down her arms and skim the frock down to her feet. When I got her slip off I realized she was showing me a new kinky facet. She was wearing old-fashioned type stockings, and a slender girdle over black net panties hip-tied with red ribbon bows. She made faces in the mirror, gave herself a come-on look with upraised eyebrows and a jerk of her head, and then a shy, long-lashed downward glance expressing embarrassment at an improper suggestion. Then she stuck out one thigh towards me with the saucy charms of a strip-teaser.
It was fun. I kneeled and whispered my fingers across creamy, sensitive skin as I snapped the suspender tab. I ran my fingers around her thigh to unsnap the other tab. I rolled down the stocking with exaggerated slowness, making such a tight roll it almost couldn't roll over her knee. I rolled it down her calf and over her heel. She stretched out her foot, pointing it artistically. I kissed each toe, then kissed up her calf to behind her knee, and then up her thigh to the slender fold of belly flesh that overlapped her suspender girdle. I licked across her belly, kissed down her thigh to its stocking top and removed the other stocking.
"You're so gentle, darling," she breathed. "You know exactly what I want."
The girdle was a dainty wisp. Its hook snapped free at a touch and my hands went to the red bows on her hips. She wasn't so kinky, I decided. She was my dream-girl, the dream-girl I'd screwed while I was fucking Ruth. My fingers tugged and bows unraveled. Black net whispered down between her thighs revealing a neat, black triangle and creamy skin. The luscious smell of pussy wafted over me and my hands slid behind her bottom. I pulled her against me with her crotch panting its hotness into my mouth. "Suck me, darling," she choked. "Suck me!"
She wanted a slow suck-off and stood with her knees pressed together and her fingers gripping my hair and pulling if I burrowed too deep, too fast. It wasn't until she was sure she was getting a slow, lingering suck around that she eased her feet apart. She wanted me to lick up and down her love-lips. She'd probably had a hot and itchy pussy all day. Her love-lips were swollen and acutely sensitive. She trembled at my licking and when I held one lip between my lips and ran my tongue around its crinkly edge, she went over the top. Her hands ground my face into her pussy and her loins pistoned smoothly, pumping pussy-juice into my mouth.
I was surprised how much that orgasm tired her. Her knees were trembling when she pulled away from me. "It was gorgeous, darling!"
"It's a lovely pussy to suck."
"Why don't you get undressed?"
"I've been busy. Hadn't you noticed?"
I stripped off my pants while she unsnapped her bra. Her breasts tumbled out, heavy and lifeless, the nipples shrunken up into their halos. She climbed on to the bed tiredly and splayed out like a starfish. "That really sent me, Mike," she confessed. "Well do it lots of times after we're married."
"If the envelopes and circulars don't get in the way."
"Don't be petty, Mike," she reproved. "Whatever time you get home at night I'll always be ready and waiting for you."
The mattress sagged beneath my weight. She reached for my prick and frictioned expertly. "You've made me feel so lovely. Now I want to lie back and be screwed silly." She closed her eyes and parted her legs.
The sexual treadmill!