Reverie in Green

I am exhausted. As I look around, I see a great big mess and I sigh. It's only my second week on the job, and tonight was absolutely insane. They warned me, of course, that the St Paddy's day celebrations in an Irish pub could get a little messy, but I never, ever expected something like this. The small pub was crammed with dancing and laughing and chatting and mainly drunk people. The atmosphere was great, and as I pushed my way through the crowd with pints of Guinness I was applauded and hugged. 

The first light of the morning streams through the windows now, and I remember the last girl being dragged out the door by her boyfriend. I'm fairly sure that the green pump I see left between the mess of barstools is hers, and I remind myself to keep it safe behind the bar - I'm sure she'll come and ask for it. 

I feel a pair of eyes on me as I scrub the biggest stains on the floor and I look up, smiling at Gemma. She's been at this for a while now, and did a fabulous job behind the bar tonight. Right now, though, she's gotten off her feet for the moment and I can't blame her. Her high heeled boots look insanely good, hugging her shapely legs and leaving just a strip of tanned skin between the top of them and the hem of her dress. I stretch out a little, arching my back and wiggling my bum. Gemma is the sexiest woman I have ever seen in my life, with her dark hair and bright eyes, and if I get a chance to flirt a little, I will definitely take it. 

Shadows move and I look up, straight into Gemma's face. "Brigit," she says softly, as she gets down on one knee in front of me. I feel myself blushing and quickly look down, focusing on scrubbing the floor. She chuckles throatily and her hand closes over mine, taking the brush from my hand and tossing it into the bucket of water at my side. She guides my arms behind my back and lifts my chin up. She is so close I can see every fleck of colour in her eyes, see her nostrils flare with each breath, before her hand closes around my chin a little tighter and the tension is broken.

Wordlessly, she pulls me away from the bucket and I follow, on hands and knees, to the bit of floor I scrubbed earlier. All I see are those fantastic leather boots, those legs, the gentle swaying of her round arse under her dress. Her foot between my shoulder blades brings me out of my reverie and I lay my chest on the floor, bottom up. I can almost hear the amusement in her voice as she speaks again. "Is the floor clean, love? Did you scrub it well, Brigit, or is there some work left to do?"

I hear myself grunt, shaking my head. I have never been so taken aback in my life, and that's saying something. "Couldn't be cleaner," I manage to mumble to the tip of her black boot. 

Her warm, strong hands help me get up from the floor and she holds my hand, pulling me through the small pub, into the office behind. She presses me up against the crates, and I hear a bag of coffee beans fall over as they move ever so slightly. The light bulb overhead casts harsh shadows on her kind face.

"You did very well," Gemma whispers in my ear in a thick, lustful voice, and before I can reply her lips crush down on mine, bruising them, claiming my mouth. Her hands run smoothly over my body as I wrap an arm around her waist. One of her leather-clad knees presses between my thighs and I part my legs willingly for her. 

"Lovely," she purrs in my ear before nipping at my neck. Her hands, so strong just earlier, easily cup my breast with surprising gentleness. She massages the soft flesh, her finger and thumb closing over the fabric covering my nipple, as she kisses me deeply, roughly and needily. I feel her other hand on my hip, pulling me flush against her, and I groan at the feel of her soft curves against mine. She pulls back a little, and I gasp as cold leather connects with my moist panties, pressing up against me. With a smirk, she steps back, leaving me weak-kneed and shivering with anticipation. She turns away from me and is at the door in a few steps, closing it. 

It seems like the world is all inside this office, with it's boxes and crates. Gemma's hands are on me again, unzipping my dress and slipping it off easily. With a sly grin, she reaches down and runs her fingertips up my thigh, to my hip, tracing the fabric of my panties. "I don't believe you'll need these." Her fingertips hook under the fabric and my green panties join my dress on the floor. I can feel the blush creeping up my chest, as she looks at my exposed flesh. My hands, holding onto the crates tightly, keep me upright - the long night and arousal finally catching up with me. 

"Get on the floor love. You've done so well today, and you deserve a little reward," Gemma's voice rings out, and not a moment too soon as I sink to the floor. She parts my legs easily and I Iay back on the floor, tense with anticipation. At the first touch of her hot tongue to my swollen flesh, though, everything is forgotten and all that exists is the spot she is licking, sucking, nibbling. The little strength I thought I had left proves to be enough as the most intense orgasm ripples through my body, leaving my muscles twitchy and utterly relaxed. With a grin on my lips, I lay my head back. 

"Hey, Brigit, if you're too tired it's totally OK. I can come in early tomorrow and we can finish up cleaning together."

I open my eyes and look at Gemma. She's no longer on the barstool, but standing at the bar, a stack of empty ashtrays in her hand. 

"Sorry?" I ask, disoriented for a moment.

"I said, if you're going to nod off sitting there with that brush, you may as well stop scrubbing and go home, love. Tomorrow's another day, you know."

I grin apologetically, tossing the brush in the bucket of water. 

"Yeah, perhaps that's for the best," I answer, getting up slowly, and checking to see whether I still have my panties on...

Styling, photography and erotica: Voice Restless

Models: ForeignThoughts Resident & Voice Restless

WS Furniture used: 

::WS:: Bucket n Rag - F/f

::WS:: Femdom Chair

::WS Sex Crates::

::WS:: Stiletto Tip Jar