Katerina in Charge

Chapter Two-1

Chapter Two

She threw back the canvas top on the shiny red Spider, slid into the sun-warmed leather seat, and fired up the ignition. Carefully, she eased the purring sports car out of the lot, and turned to head north: another California blonde, carefree with the wind in her hair, roaring along the strip on a warm summer’s twilight. Crissy purposely avoided the Freeway, and chose instead to follow the old coast road for quite a ways before turning inland, entering the foothills as the coast fell away below and behind her. She cautiously wound up the curving road, climbing gradually higher, till the scraggly desert plants gave way to larger pines, trees that crowded thickly along the serpentine road, making the night seem even darker and more menacing. He had made some joke about his place being “a little out of the way” -- now she knew what he meant!

Keeping an eye on her GPS, she made her way ever deeper into the low rolling hills. She had brought a few things with her, fully expecting to spend the night, and now she was glad she did. For she didn’t relish the idea of driving back home through these remote hills alone at night.

Now the Spider had slowed and it was nosing cautiously forward, the driver searching for a small, unmarked turn that would lead to the only access road to his place. The winding gravel path took a long curve through a stand of trees and there, defiantly floodlit against the encroaching darkness, stood a magnificent home of stained wood and glass that reminded Crissy of an exclusive mountain resort. It had been built as a palatial retreat for a weary film executive, and had changed hands several times before Sky found it. He enjoyed the privacy and the sense of freedom the place gave him, and soon divided his time between his impressive new home and the luxury apartment he kept in the city. He jokingly referred to it as his “cabin” although the term seemed ludicrous when applied to the large, obviously expensive, complex of redwood and cedar and tinted glass, tucked away behind wrought iron gates, deep in the gentle hills.

***

Crissy had kicked off her heels as she sat across from him in a rounded chair with a low padded back, taking in the leather and chrome of the large starkly modern room with its sparse, but expensive, furnishings. Leaning back, she crossed her legs, and waited, sipping her drink, tense and alert with the sense of rising s****l anticipation.

Sprawled back as she was, she had let her dress had ride up, exposing several inches of choice nyloned thigh. She saw his eyes drawn to the displaced hemline, coming to rest there, dwelling on her knees, smiling as he let himself admire those attractive legs. She made no move to correct the errant hem for Crissy was feeling loose by now, sort of dissolute; and terribly, terribly horny. She let one leg swing idly while she regarded the man over the rim of her glass.

“Why don’t you come over here?” he suggested. Without a word, she placed her glass on a low glass-topped table, stood up and crossed the thick carpet on stockinged feet to come to him, standing before his chair, looking down on him with a seductive smile playing across her lips.

“Come here,” he urged softly, reaching for her, pulling her down to perch in his lap. And she let herself be drawn to him, feeling limp and all soft and yielding. She squirmed a bit to get comfortable, and Sky felt the weight of her, the heat of her soft warm bottom shifting against his thighs, the feel of a solid hip pressed against his upright c**k through the layers of his trousers, and the thin dress she wore.

He brought his left hand up, cupping her knee; his right came around her hip to move slowly up her flank feeling its way along her narrow waist. Crissy twisted in his lap and threw her arms around him. She let her head fall back, gasping through opened lips when she felt him bury his face in her hair and nuzzle there. Then he was working lower till his lips found the crook of her shoulder; he kissed her, let his tongue trail wetly up the side of her neck.

Sky inhaled deeply, breathing in the fresh clean smell of her soft hair, the intoxicating scent of the delicate perfume she wore. He nibbled his way up along the side of her craning neck, and soon he had the healthy young blonde squirming hotly in his lap, arching back. A little whimper escaped her lips. She turned to offer him a kiss, her slightly-parted lips moist and receptive, her mouth hungry for his. And as they kissed, a deep soulful kiss, he moved the hand that rested on her leg upward, slipping it under the skirt to brush back the hem and uncover those golden honeyed legs.

Crissy thrilled to the feel of his big warm hand, a slow hand that began to stroke her thigh. She could already feel herself moistening, and she clenched her thighs at the delicious sensations that loving masculine hand left behind as it traveled up under her dress, savoring the satiny smoothness of her nyloned leg. She was kissing him with burgeoning passion, as the inquisitive hand moved steadily up her leg, till the fingers were exploring the elastic band at the top of her stocking. And then his fingertips traced lightly over the curve of her leg just beyond the stocking’s ridge, pausing to explore the band of silky skin along her damp inner thigh, as he followed the dipping curve of her panties’ elastic leg band.

By the time his exploring hand had found her s*x, and he had the young blonde squirming in the heat of passion. Cupping her pantied mound, he slipped three joined fingers down to follow the clinging gusset. They curled up probe the soft folds of flesh he found there, right between her legs. Incredibly hot and bothered, Crissy was openly panting now, breathing heavily, as he slid the heel of his palm down the front of her panties. He heard her soft helpless moan in his ear when he began to palm the fleshy pad of her pubis through the thin silk, treating her vulva to a deep massage that soon had her hips writhing, as she arched back to rub sensuously against him like a big cat in heat.

She dropped a hand down to his lap to find, and cover, the tented outline of his full-blown erection. “Mmmmmm... Let’s go to bed, lover,” she breathed in his ear, giving his manhood an urgent, meaningful squeeze.

“Nooo, just a minute,” he croaked, his voice struggling for control. “I see you managed to find a pair of stockings,” he murmured, his lips close to her ear. “Why don’t you stand up and model them for me?”

A little confused, and a bit woozy with passion, Crissy felt herself being drawn to her feet.

“Here. Stand beside the chair. Now, I want to see your legs. Lift your dress up.”

She stood where he put her, drunk with passion, staring down at him.

“Go on Crissy, show me those gorgeous legs of yours legs,” he urged softly.

She opened her mouth to say something, but no words came out. Then, apparently, deciding, she reached down for the hem of the dress, grabbing handfuls of the soft knit fabric, and hiking the material up to the top of her thighs.

“Higher.”

At first she was confused, reluctant, hesitant, unsure. But now those feelings gave way to a deep stirring of passion, that made her feel all buttery inside as the thought came to her that she wanted it too, wanted to show this man everything. Smiling at his obvious need, Crissy hauled the skirt up the last few inches to her waist, and stood there offering him the sight he seemed to want so badly: her pale young thighs, deliciously naked, framed between the fancy embroidery of the topbands of her stockings, and the curving lacy edge of the panties, the thin pink underpants that molded her mound. She knew she was wet. The tightly-drawn gusset was even now impregnated with the telltale stain of her arousal, a darkened patch of love dew, spreading upwards from the very apex of her crotch.

“Very pretty... very nice indeed,” he breathed in a voice thick with emotion. Crissy felt a shock of pleasure ripple through her at his sincere tribute to her feminine beauty.

He wanted her to see her expose herself to him; and he seemed content just to do no more than look. He didn’t reach out touch to her, much as she longed for his touch. Instead he let her stand there while he caressed her loins with nothing but his eyes, leisurely savoring the erotic sight of young Christina Whitney showing herself to him in such wanton, shameless display. She felt a flush of humiliation and warmth, standing there... like some w***e! It was wildly, perversely thrilling; a feeling of being deliciously wickedly exposed, hot and randy. But now she wanted so terribly, was to get on with it. Burning with impatience from showing herself to him like this was driving her wild with lust.

“Seen enough?” she half-teased, eager to break the pose, to grab her man, to jump into bed.

“No..not yet..I want you turn around.” He smiled appealingly.

She c****d an inquisitive eyebrow at him.

“Go on, Crissy. Turn around and lift up the dress in back.”

Crissy gave an exasperated sigh, like an older sister indulging some hopeless boy in a silly game he so obviously wanted to play. Tingling with impatience, she did as he said, turning her back to him. Reaching back she gathered up two fistfuls of the dress at the back of her legs and worked the softly clinging fabric up to expose her pantied behind.

His eyes caressed the sleek lines of her nyloned legs and the snugly-banded thighs, so close that he could easily reach out and touch them and run his fingers up the smooth sinuous curve of an inner leg, but he did no such thing. Working his fists, he held back.

“Now spread your legs... and bend over. And pull your dress up... all the way. Lean forward, hands on your knees!” Crissy heard the barely concealed excitement crackling through his strained voice. She instinctively knew that displaying herself like this was a powerful turn-on for him, and that thought sent a shock of lust racing through her. She obligingly widened her stance, spreading her stockinged feet as she worked the dress up over her hips so that it layered the small of her back. Then she braced herself with hands on her knees and thrust back her butt.

He took in the tight-cheeked bottom she presented to him, neatly rounded twin contours, not quite contained by the tautly-drawn nylon panties so that the smiling undercurves peeked out below; the rear crack dimly visible through the tightly-stretched seat; the soft bulge of the underarch, plump, moist, furry and laden with promise.

The tempting sight was proving irresistible! She felt his hands at her hips, and began to straighten up, thinking he wanted her. She straightened half way up and started to turn, when he stopped her abruptly.

“No... stay like that!” he hissed, in an urgent whisper. It was more a desperate plea than an order.

Smiling to herself, Crissy settled back down, wiggling her hips in delight as she felt his hands firmly clasp her flanks. She had read somewhere that some men got really turned on by undressing their women. In the past, she always undressed for him, but this, this was something new. It excited her, for him to take down her panties.

At that was just what he proceeded to do. Pinching the narrow waistband at either hip, he peeled the thin underpants down over the jutting contours of the taut cheeks, easing them a little further when the sticky gusset got caught up in her crotch. He curled his fingers into the waistband, tightened his grip, and yanked the bunched nylon down till the twisted scrap was left hobbling her just above the knees.

Crissy raised her head, threw back her shoulders and took a deep breath. She stood with eyes closed, a dreamy expression on her lips, intensely aware of how she looked to him. Her back was deeply arched; dress up around her waist, displaced panties spanning her thighs, naked bottom on prominent display.