Dinner went smoothly, but Sir Charles was disconcerted to find the girl, Claudia, looking
at him with a smug, knowing expression whenever he cast his eyes her way. She had a
confident, flirty look to her that profoundly irritated him because she seemed to be
presuming he was attracted to her.
It irritated him even more because despite himself, he was. This was purely on an
instinctive basis, he told himself. After all, she was a lovely female with an attractive
body which she wasn't at all shy about displaying.
Now that he was seated across the table from her, he could see just how tight and thin
her blouse was, and that she quite obviously had no brassiere beneath. The way the fabric
hugged her large, high breasts was like a magnet to his eyes, as were the well-defined
dimples in the centre of each breast where her nipples pushed out against the thin
material.
And it seemed each time his eyes flicked to those barely concealed, tightly clad
breasts, she quickly became aware, and her own eyes would turn an amusing, knowing look
his way, forcing him to snap his eyes back or pretend to look at the picture over her
shoulder, or out the window to her left.
The girl's attitude was profoundly annoying. And Sir Charles was grateful when dinner
was finally ended and he could retreat to his library.
He spent much of the evening on the phone, discussing plans for his future political
career with party insiders and friends. Su Li, like the good wife she was, left him alone,
interrupting him only once, late in the evening, to inform him that Miranda had invited
Claudia to spend the night.
Charles sighed in resignation, but quickly turned his attention back to business. It was
quite late, in fact, before he finally hung up, pulled himself up from behind the
Elizabethan walnut desk, leaned forward to turn off the light, and turned in for the
night. Su Li had already gone to bed, of course. She was an early riser - like Sir Charles
himself.
Susan, of course, and Kathleen, had both long since gone home. So Charles was surprised
to see a light in the kitchen. He hesitated with his foot on the bottom stair, then,
grimacing, turned to walk up the long hall to the kitchen. Bloody women, he thought. They
all seemed to think money grew on trees.
He heard a grinding sound ahead and frowned in surprise. He passed through the doorway
and turned to see on his left a long food preparation counter. The girl, Claudia was
standing behind it, or rather, leaning over it reading a magazine. She looked up
incuriously as Sir Charles appeared.
"Ah it's ah, you," he said, self-conscious for some reason.
"Sorry," she said, straightening. "Did I wake you?"
"No, of course not. I was in the library," he said, peering at the juicer grinding away
on the counter beside her magazine.
"Just making a drink," she said with a lazy smile.
"Aah, a drink? What kind of drink?" he asked dubiously.
In truth, he didn't care. He was feeling suddenly uneasy in her presence, and grasped at
the excuse to make conversation.
The girl was now wearing a short, form-fitting pink tank top, again, quite obviously
without a bra. The material strained against her ample breasts, thrusting outward baring a
considerable degree of cleavage which Sir Charles did his best to ignore.
She smiled, and then strolled casually out from behind the counter. Sir Charles's eyes
widened as he saw that aside from the short tank top she wore only a pair of panties. The
panties were very low on her hips, barely covering her pubic mound, with two slim strings
angling sharply upward and over her rounded hips.
"It's called the Multiple Orgasm," she said with brazen confidence.
Sir Charles cleared his throat nervously, and tore his eyes off the incredible length of
smooth, perfectly contoured bare leg the girl revealed.
"Disgusting name for a... a drink," he said.
"It's made of Vodka, Amaretto, Tia Maria, and Half and Half mixed with crushed ice," she
said, reaching a slim hand out to stop the juicer. "Miranda's never had one." She looked
up coyly from beneath her lashes. "A multiple orgasm, that is. Of course... I've had
many."
Sir Charles felt his groin begin to throb, and knew he was beginning to grow hard. He
turned away from the girl, moving around behind the counter himself as she turned to smile
smugly.
"Young lady," he said, drawing himself up. "I find your behaviour and your... dress...
to be... most inappropriate."
"I usually sleep in the nude," she said with a shrug. "But I thought it'd be best to be
mannerly in someone else's home."
She turned aside to pour the drink into a pair of tall glasses and Sir Charles could
clearly see the creamy white flesh of her breast through the open arm hole. He felt a
tightening in his loins and jerked his eyes away as she turned to smile at him.
“Tell me, Sir Charles, do you find it warm in here?” she asked, opening the freezer.
“Not especially,” he said sternly.
“I’m feeling quite... hot myself,” she said, turning back.
She had removed an ice cube from the freezer, and now leaned back against the closed
door, sighing softly as she let the cube slide slowly along the nape of her neck and down
along the top of her cleavage. Sir Charles’ eyes were drawn to the cube, as she slowly
caressed the top of her cleavage, and he saw her flesh glisten wetly as a small drop of
water slowly trickled down into her top.
She tilted her head slowly back and sighed low in her throat, and Charles' eyes were
drawn instantly back to her straining bosom. The thin top seemed ready to burst, and the
outline of her erect nipples was patently obvious as she arched her back. He felt his cock
twitch and begin to rise within his trousers.
She lowered her head, and her eyes settled coyly on Sir Charles. "Well, I guess I'll go
up and give Miranda a Multiple Orgasm," she said.
"Young lady," Sir Charles growled, drawing himself up once again.
She raised an innocent eyebrow and moved around the counter towards him. Sir Charles had
to fight the urge to back away, and felt astonished at losing his control in such a
fashion before a girl young enough to be... well, to be his daughter, presuming he had not
decided against having children (miserable bratty little things).
"Yes, Sir Charles?" she asked coyly.
"Does your father know how you behave around strange men?" he demanded.
She smiled and her hands rose to settle on his shoulders.
Startled, Charles did not react at once.
"Daddy's no longer with us I'm afraid," she said sadly.
"Oh er..."
"I do so long for the influence of a stern, older gentleman in my life."
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