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A Genie covers us both in sheer nylon for the afternoon.


I glanced down at my pyjamas, even as a little voice was screaming, "YOU IDIOT!" I had completely forgotten that I wasn't wearing any, hadn't I? I wasn't wearing anything. I was standing here, talking to a strange man, stark staring naked, and telling him where my bed is. Oh my fucking god, was I insane?

He undoubtedly knew from the way my face turned bright red and from the shocked gasp I gave that it had suddenly dawned on me that I was naked. I didn't even get a chance to hide behind my hands, or turn and bolt. Just like that, he was standing next to me, laughing silently.

"Forgot, did you," he asked, and I could hear the mirth in his voice. "Rather unfortunate. For you, that is. Not for me. You're really quite lovely."

He had one hand on my back preventing me from running and the other was already caressing by breast. I just stood there looking at his hand, dark against my whiteness, watching it as it slid smoothly across my breast, stroking it, pausing to put a finger on my nipple and rotate it.

"Ah, I, I, um, that is, you, ah," I didn't know what the hell I was trying to say.

His hand crossed smoothly to my other breast, feeling it, weighing it, stroking the nipple. My breasts were feeling dreadfully full and heavy all of a sudden, and my nipples were standing out and felt extremely sensitive. Little flames seemed to be lighting up inside me.

I managed to reach up and push his hand away. Reluctantly, I found, because, for some odd reason, I liked the feel of him stroking my breast.

"You can't do that," I managed to say. "I wasn't inviting you to my bed. I have no intention of sleeping with you."

There. That was laying it on the line.

The reason it was so easy to push his hand away from my breast became plain. He needed it to stroke me elsewhere. I was looking at him, telling him no, not watching his hand moving down to touch me elsewhere.

Touch? His hand just slipped over my mons and darted between my legs, closing over my mound and holding me.

"That's OK," he was saying. "Sleeping is not the first thing on my agenda of things to do with you."

"Stop that," I hissed at him, as he started rubbing his hand back and forth against me. "I said no."

"Yes, I know. I heard you. Don't worry. I know how to ignore things like that."

He had to be kidding.

"You can't just ignore me when I say no," I pointed out.

In reply he bent down and nibbled on my breast, sucking my nipple into his mouth and rolling it around with his tongue. Then he lifted his head.

"I can," he said. "Just watch me."

At the same time he released his tantalising touch on my mound and turned me around. With that he was guiding me down the hallway to the bedroom, his hand firm on my back. I went along easily enough. After all, I wanted to go to bed. I just didn't want him in there with me.

Reaching my bedroom door I propped. I wasn't taking another step with him pushing at me.

"This is as far as you go," I said firmly.

"If you insist," he said, startling me, as I thought I was going to have to argue the point. "First, a kiss good-night."

I have to admit that I wasn't entirely averse to letting him kiss me good-night. He was an attractive man and it was a small price to pay to get his hands off me. So I let him kiss me.

He was quite a good kisser, even though he shouldn't have had his hands on my bottom, especially when I had nothing on. Still, I didn't protest, even when he lifted me up, holding me against him. I seemed to be floating through the air as he kissed me and it was a strange feeling.

It turned out that the reason I felt as though I was floating through the air was because I was floating through the air, or being carried, anyway. This belatedly registered on me when I found myself being pressed down against the mattress while he continued to kiss me. I'll admit his hands had left my bottom but this was for two reasons. One, I was lying on said bottom, and two, his hands were on my front, stroking breasts and mons.

I managed to twist

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