Smut in the City by unknow

Author:unknow
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: House of Erotica, smut in the city, victoria blisse, lucy felthouse, erotica, erotic fiction, erotic anthology, house of erotica, city, lesbian, sex, sexy, voyeur, public sex, office sex, HoE, adult, excite, exciting, kinky
ISBN: 9781782342205
Publisher: Andrews UK
Published: 2012-09-05T00:00:00+00:00

Mad Fer It In Manchester

By Victoria Blisse

Bored. No two ways about it, I am bored. The worrying thing is we’re only half an hour into this day of training. I never used to tell my mum I was bored when I was younger, she’d find me chores to do if I did, but right now I could go for mopping the cellar steps or reorganising the linen closet.

I really didn’t want to come to this stupid thing anyway but I had to, it’s a required course and there are members of the company from all over the north west here today. At least I only had my usual daily commute into Manchester to negotiate. Nothing new there.

But the sun is shining, a real rarity of late in the murky north and I want to be out in it, soaking up the heat, enjoying an ice cream and ogling all the cute guys with shorts on and tops off. I’m otherwise engaged though. All day this stupid seminar will drone on. I do hope I don’t fall asleep.

“Geez, I’m sorry I’m late.” A flurry of suit, briefcase and hot guy explodes through the conference room door. “I got stuck in the most evil traffic on the M60 and then I got turned around in the one way system.”

“That’s quite alright,” the leader of this bore-fest says through gritted teeth, “please sit yourself down now Mr--?”

“Carter, Stuart Carter.”

“Take a seat, Mr Carter and let’s get on.”

Stuart smiles, nods and scurries over the room to sit in the chair beside me. I grin up at him sympathetically and he responds with a wink.

What a gorgeous man. His eyes are dark like treacle toffee, his hair a similar shade but with golden syrup streaks bleached in by the summer sun. His chin is chiselled, completely clean shaven and his lips are ripe raspberries, plump for the kissing.

All these food analogies mean I must be hungry. Though right now I’m not hungry for food. I’m hungry for Stuart. I roll my thick wodge of sheets over the table to share with him and point out where we are.

“Thanks,” he whispers and covers my hand with his and squeezes in gratitude. My stomach flips, heat pools in my cheeks and I wiggle in my seat as I become very aware of my damp, plumped up lower lips. Bloody hell, I’m so very turned on and he’s only brushed his fingers over mine. Now I’m thinking about other places he could run his fingers over. Blimey, it’s gotten hot all of a sudden.

I don’t think the informative training gets any more interesting, I don’t know because I’m not listening at all, I’m too busy day dreaming and taking sneaky peeks at Stuart. I swear I am an adult, all grown up and mature enough not to fawn over the boy I fancy. But I feel like a heady teenager when his gaze meets mine as I look at him again. My cheeks burn and I drop my gaze to the table before me.

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