Mister Farid - Pt. 01

Mister Farid - Part 1

"Relax, Carly, it's just a job," Carly told herself.

It was not the job she really wanted. But having an arts degree really wasn't paying off at the moment; saturated market.

The memes simply wrote themselves, and she'd never live it down if it weren't for her lack of friends. The one she did have wasn't that terminally online anyways.

But a cleaner? That seemed just as embarrassing as living up to the joke about arts degrees.

Twenty two years old, and she was already craving death, rhetorically speaking.

At least it seemed to pay a bit above minimum wage and the hours weren't terrible.

But she had no idea about this Farid guy. He didn't have much of an online presence as far as she could tell. Practically nonexistent, but he'd put a job posting out online.

Someone to come in three times a week, tidy the place up, do some tougher cleaning, do some clothes, that sort of thing. She wasn't looking forward to it, wondering what kind of slob was too lazy to clean up after himself. Or some spoiled asshole that thought it beneath him.

She really should've had a phone interview at first, but the money, even if it wasn't too good to be true, was still too good to pass up. It wouldn't help her survive, but at least it was a less insane side-job.

She knew people working two full-time positions to make ends meet. City living wasn't cheap.

And as she moved up towards the steps of the brick town house in one of the older districts of the city, she was wondering just who this guy was that could afford to live in a place like this.

The grey facade showed its age, a greyer stain over the brickwork, but the windows were clean, and the planters below the windows flanking the steps to the front door grew roses with vibrant reds, whites, and pale yellows, healthy but sporting vicious looking thorns.

Dark velvet curtains were drawn over every window of the three-storey building, obscuring the interior, whilst an iron fence and gate separated the 'yard' from the footpath, little more than a few feet of bare concrete with some statues, each only a foot and a half high.

They kinda creeped her out, each spaced apart evenly either side of the steps, sculptures of pillars upon which clung winged gargoyle-like things.

High above, the window in the middle of the top floor was crowned with a triangular arch built into the facade, little more than a decorative accoutrements. The roof was angled towards the front, with gutters and drain pipes carefully hidden away around the corners of the building, going down into the narrow alleys either side, just wide enough for a person to walk down.

The roof tiles were dark, mossy in parts, splattered with bird shit in others, and stained from rain, pollution, and other things... typical for places like this in the city. The facades often got washed, but the roofs got neglected if they weren't leaking.

There was a small awning, so shallow it barely qualified, the greco-roman style columns that supported the sharply angled arch, not unlike the decorative facade above the top floor's middle window, having only enough gap between them and the wall for her to fit in sideways, not that she would, nothing beyond but a drop blocked off by a simple wire mesh that was definitely installed long after the place was built. Much like the steel railings either side of the several concrete steps, probably to comply with municipal standards.

The front door was a charcoal grey colour, looking as if it were made of metal, but it was in fact some sort of wood with a coating that gave it the look. A clean but tarnished brass knocker dominated the middle of the door, the bottom half divided into two rectangular depressions, whilst the top had a semi-circular window divided into sections.

Below this, directly at eye height, was a small peep hole.

On the right, was a black buzzer and intercom.

She pressed the white button.

"Who is it?" came a man's voice on the other end, the speaker crackling and tinny. Yet he sounded rather smooth and rich.

"Uh, it's Carly Myers. I'm here for that cleaning job?" she answered.

"Ah, right. I'll be right down."

The intercom went dead, and Carly took the opportunity to go over herself to look at least somewhat presentable; adjusting the grey and blue sports bag on her back filled with assorted cleaning supplies, nothing more substantial on her since the application said things like mops, buckets, and other heavy duty supplies were available to use at the residence.

Her clothing could hardly be considered professional, sporting jeans partially ripped around the knees for fashion, white joggers and pink ankle socks standing out.

A light blue tank top was the best shirt she had, even if it had the word 'juicy' written across it in fancy, bubbly writing.

Beneath it, she opted for a very thin, black undershirt that was a little bit on the rattier side, old and stretched, but at least it hid the stains she could never get out. Moreover, it made her look a little less... uncouth, some would say.

'Skanky' less generous, or perhaps more honest, souls would proclaim.

She checked that her plain brown hair was tied back into a ponytail still and hadn't come undone at some point, the green scrunchy prone to rolling off. All was well, her hair hanging down between her shoulder blades.

She made sure that loose thread on the bottom of her tank top was taped up still, and checked her nails were neatly trimmed and polished; she had a habit of letting them grow long and then they cracked, and it got annoying.

Looking down, she frowned a little at the faint strip of her midriff, just visible beneath the lower edge of her thin black undershirt; even stretched, it didn't completely hide her gut, but at least her navel was hidden. It wouldn't if she wasn't wearing that undershirt.

She tapped her smart watch, the white chassis a little scratched from use, and then checked her earrings, little more than polished metal studs with shiny blue caps. That was more habit than anything.

Looking as presentable as she could be, she steeled herself and waited for the door to open, hearing muffled footsteps approach.

'Let's meet this guy, I guess,' she bemoaned to herself.

The lock clacked loudly, and the knob was turned, the door swinging open.

"Ah, hello Miss Myers. I'm glad you could make it so early," Mr. Farid greeted.

Carly almost didn't reply, her mouth just shy of falling agape as she laid eyes on the man.

He was perhaps the hottest guy she'd ever seen.

His skin had a soft tan, almost like pale chocolate, so smooth and rich. He clearly had Arabic or Middle Eastern Heritage, and even his voice had a hint of an accent. But it was so smooth, so rich, so dreamy, even though his tone was calm, level, and polite.

His hair was black and not very long, but it was so damn shiny, it practically reflected the sunlight, not going further than his ears, and incredibly straight and silky, like he'd never had a split end or a dry scalp in his life.

His chin wasn't pronounced and sharp like stereotypical 'hot guys,' but it had a pleasant angular quality all the same, the faintest hint of stubble around it and his lower jaw, which had a noticeable edge, not too square.

Masculine, but soft. His whole face was like that, beautiful, alluring, even the faint smile on his thin, supple lips charming without trying.

His nose had the faintest downward curve at the tip, but it fitted perfectly with his face.

And his eyes... they were a blue so striking she thought he could've looked into her very mind. She was certain she could see her own slightly awestruck face staring back at her in those icy blue orbs.

She could smell a cologne on him, an earthy smell, but soft, gentle, with a quality akin to springtime. She didn't know, she couldn't explain it, it was hot whatever it was.

He held himself with a posture that oozed suave and charm, though his clothes were rather simple; a white button up shirt with thin grey lines running up its height, and long beige pants held up by a maroon brown belt, hiding the tops of his black socks and brown loafers.

Even then, it looked so good on him, and she could see a subtle musculature, or she thought she could.

Was this guy a model or something? With his looks, maybe that was why he needed a cleaner, too busy doing photo shoots to keep his own house tidy.

She checked for any jewellery, subconsciously scanning for a wedding ring, but the only thing he wore was a mechanical watch on his wrist, made of metal, slightly brassy in colour.

She finally found the words to speak after being taken aback by his handsome looks.

"Oh, uh, yeah. I wanted to be on time, yeah, for my first day," she answered, stumbling over her words.

'Real smooth, idiot,' she chastised herself.

Hot or not, he was her employer. And unless he turned out to be some weirdo creep that started hitting on her, chances were he wasn't ever gonna be interested in her like that.

Hell, she thought he was out of her league.

"Come in, I'll show you around," he beckoned, opening the door wider and gesturing inside.

Nodding quietly to avoid embarrassing herself further, she walked inside, finding herself in the small entry way, admiring the décor.

Compared to him, it wasn't ludicrously extravagant, which made her feel slightly less out of place in her overly casual attire.

The walls were made to look like old wood panels, dark in colour, but glossy with the finish. The stucco ceilings were painted with a dull grey coat, and the floors were faux wood grain linoleum. The light fixtures were all glass half-domes over the fluorescent bulbs, etched with leaf and flower patterns.

There wasn't much in the way of furniture visible from the entrance, a hat and coat rack immediately to her left and an iron-frame shelf to her right, sporting a few bowls for people to put things in.

There were two open archways either side of the entry, leading into the other parts of the town house, while directly ahead she saw the staircase leading up to the second floor, the banister carved with fancy woodwork. Ahead to the left of the stairs the hall continued, an open door exposing what looked like a laundry. There were two more shut doors on the left wall.

She took a few steps in, and was immediately struck by the spacious living room to her right, a fake fireplace - the kind with fans and heating elements pushing out warm air through vents below a projection or TV screen of crackling fire - a carpet laid out in the middle with intricate design, geometric shapes interwoven around vines growing flowers, maroons, oranges, dull yellows, and blacks arranged in striking contrast despite the darker shades.

In the middle was a coffee table with a large, roughly cut length of wood, the bark still present on the edges, looking like it was sawed from a trunk at an angle, varnished and lacquered, whilst the massive hole in the middle was filled with a clear, aquamarine resin, the twisting legs just as 'organic' as the table, the only thing that didn't seem so was the interwoven wooden bands like wicker, creating a shallow basket for the handful of magazines and books stowed away beneath the table.

There was but a single glass coaster atop of it with an empty, used mug, the many-buttoned black remote for a sizeable flatscreen TV abutting the wall of the building's right side, facing from the street at least. Curtained windows blocked most of the light coming in street-side, leaving the interior to be lit with the home lighting.

Against the far wall, left of the entrance, was a large bookshelf filled with old novels and textbooks. Probably more decorative than anything Mister Farid read, especially given the exquisite wooden sculptures sitting in the gaps between books, carvings of animals that look like they were African in design.

An L-shaped couch sat on the edge of the carpet, the seats facing the street-side wall and the alley-side wall, a modular design of high-quality faux leather, charcoal grey and fitted with concealable cup-holders.

The lounge room was as large as her apartment's kitchen and living room combined. Larger even.

Looking back out the way she came, she glanced into the other room opposite, and saw a large rectangular table about ten feet long, a rich wooden dining table that was so dark it was almost black, small decorative flourish to its woodwork along the edges and the legs, the chairs of similar construction and topped with smooth, square cushions, a deep maroon in colour and tied down to the chairs they sat upon with fabric ties.

There was a single item atop the table, what looked like a metal tray with curved edges and a circular ring for holding a large candle.

It must have been the kitchen and dining room, but she couldn't see all of it from where she was.

Mister Farid turned around and gently clapped his hands together.

"So, this is my home. I know it's pretty large, and looks expensive, but please don't be intimidated. I do my best to keep the place tidy, but I'm just so busy these days I can't do as much. Alas, I have money and not the time to make use of it," he lamented.

Admittedly, Carly cringed a little on the inside at the remark about his wealth. Like, sure, it was obvious, but flaunting it even a little seemed a bit egotistical.

All the same, he seemed so polite about it, and she rather enjoyed hearing him talk. That voice was so dreamy.

"I think I'll manage," she stated, though even with Mister Farid's assurances, knowing there were three whole floors seemed a little daunting.

"All I need you to do is to wipe some of the surfaces down, do a little vacuuming, some of the dishes, tidy up here and there, and put the laundry on. Leave me to finish it, and don't worry about the top floor. There's nothing up there except mess, and I don't really need it cleaned."

Two floors. A little more manageable, though everything else did seem comprehensive for 'all I need,' but the way he spoke sounded so genuine, she had to believe him.

"I got it," she assured him. "I mean, I'm not that experienced, but I have done cleaning in a burger joint. And I'm currently working a grocery store, so I know about cleaning stuff up."

"Fine, all fine, I don't think I'm in need of a full professional cleaner. I want to at least shoulder some of the responsibility, I live here after all," he stated. "I can give you a tour of the place, show you the places you'll be working. You can start today or come back tomorrow if it suits you."

She glanced back at her bag full of cleaning supplies, and thought it'd be pretty pointless to go home now. She'd get something done, and keep to the schedule. But getting a tour seemed like a great idea, and she didn't mind listening to Mister Farid.

"Sounds good to me. Lead the way," Carly agreed.

He slapped his hands together again.

"Gladly!" he exclaimed, slipping past Carly and beckoning for her to follow.

He was enthusiastic, that much was obvious.

---

The tour of the town house wasn't as long as Carly expected, but it wasn't short either, showing her the storage and supply closets in the main hall, and the rest of the kitchen, half-separated from the dining room and looking the most modern installation in the entire building, complete with black faux-marble countertops, charcoal-grey cabinets and panelling, and stainless-steel appliances, the stove a glossy-black induction design, everything so crisp and clean.

The laundry was out the back, and accessed a small 'backyard' that was little more than a concrete path between small garden plots, a fence dividing the townhouse from the back alley, ugly graffiti immediately visible out the back door on the building behind the house.

It had modern appliances, but they were generic white and not as fancy as some models. She could live with that, and was thankful for the quick tutorial from Mister Farid, since she'd have to use the dryer a lot; there was nowhere to hang clothes out.

Truth be told, the house was quite modern, but either Mister Farid or the previous owner went out of their way to blend it with the older design of the building. New smart lighting in decorative fixtures, a simple security system installed in a way to not stand out and ruin the aesthetics, a modern air conditioning setup using vents coloured like the walls and kept where they wouldn't stand out so easily.

Going up to the second floor, she was shown the bedrooms and the bathrooms, the latter numbering two; an en-suite for Mister Farid's spacious bedroom, and looking more modern than the bathroom that was its own room, accessible from the left from stairs. There was a small room directly ahead, what almost looked like a sitting space with charcoal-grey cushions lining the benches built into the alcove. She could've imagined a window built into it, if it weren't for there being nothing to see outside from the back except dirty brick walls.

The en-suite bathroom was entirely tiled, and the pale grey and white features all sported a minimalist look. It looked the most like a recent addition, the glass shower stall even sporting shiny handrails and a fancy showerhead.

The vanity had a squared sink, and an equally blocky faucet and taps.

Velvet-soft towels hung from metal racks and sat on the floor before the vanity and the shower.

The other bathroom looked older, the walls tiled, but much more grey, and the vanity in there was made of a brown wood. The room was large enough it had an actual bathtub, with its own showerhead that looked about a decade or two older than the one in the en-suite.

The floor was covered in blue tiles, and didn't quite look that aesthetic. But the towels were the same.

Both bathrooms had windows overlooking the alleyways, though they were meant for steam more than anything else.

Behind the standard bathroom was a small passage with a folding-door cupboard, leading to a door in the side of the house that lead to a fire escape.

On the other side was the door to Mister Farid's bedroom, and Carly was beyond envious of the large space, the king bed a little messy, its white sheets and maroon covers a bit twisted about, the dark red pillows atop of the white ones a bit disorderly. Clearly Mister Farid didn't set it right every morning.

A dressing table with a mirror was pushed against the wall near the door, across from the foot of the bed. A simple wooden desk was tucked into the far corner directly ahead of the door, the chair of a similar design, a green, red-striped cushion sitting upon it.

An old-school green-framed lamp overlooked the desk, numerous manila folders scattered across it, though she couldn't tell their contents. The floor up here was real wood, polished and smooth, save for cowskin rugs either side of the bed.

A single window offered a lovely view of brick, the curtain here drawn back.

There were a few more drawers and cabinets tucked against the walls, but it didn't do much to make the place feel smaller.

Behind his bedroom, was a study, complete with a very fancy writing desk equipped with a flexible lamp. More than that though, a few tub chairs were arrayed around a simple, low-lying coffee table with a circular glass top... and surrounding everything were bookshelves that almost reached the ceiling, utterly filled with books of all sorts, including in non-English languages.

It was a small library unto itself, and the smell of old paper was strong, and rather pleasant.

Opposite that were a pair of smaller guest bedrooms, on the other side of the narrow passage to the fire escape. And before a window overlooking the street, were the steps leading up to the third floor.

But that was where the tour ended.

"It's a bit of a big place, but hopefully there's not too much work for you to do," Mister Farid remarked.

Indeed, there was a bit of dust, some old stains, and in general it was a bit untidy, but for the size of the town house, nothing unmanageable for Carly.

"Nah, now that I've seen the place, I think I'm good. You sure you don't want me going to the third floor?"

He shook his head.

"No, I don't think it's worthwhile, it's basically an attic up there. If I need it done, I'll be getting some more serious cleaners to go through it," he answered.

Carly shrugged.

"Works for me. If you don't mind, I can get started right away."

"Of course, Miss Myers, don't let me keep you."

He gave her a polite nod, and returned down the hall to go back downstairs, but before he could, Carly called out to him.

"Thank you for hiring me, Mister Farid."

He made a gracious gesture.

"Not a problem, Miss Myers. By the way, if you want, you may call me Amon," he offered.

First name basis, huh? Carly wasn't sure she really knew him well enough to use his first name, but part of her sure felt a flutter at the idea. God, he was so hot. And that earthy cologne stuck with her. The kind of smell, like new growth, sweet but deep. She really couldn't place it, but it didn't stink unpleasantly like moist soil often did.

It tickled her nose, enticed it. It had to be some upmarket stuff that was too expensive for her to even ask.

"I'll keep that in mind. See you later, Mister Farid."

He nodded in understanding, and disappeared down the steps.

Carly sighed, and then thought up an attack plan for the building. Time to get to work.

---

She opted to start back downstairs, after grabbing a vacuum and a mop from the cupboards down there. She was surprisingly quick and efficient, though it wasn't like she was up against a monumental mess. Amon was quite tidy, all things considered.

There wasn't any laundry to do today, so she was even quicker getting the lower floors done. The top floors were a little slower, and she saved his bedroom for last. Something about being alone in there made her feel nervous, even if he'd stayed downstairs. Truth be told, it almost felt like he'd disappeared, but she occasionally heard his footsteps.

The main bathroom wasn't much better, though it seemed like it didn't get that much use. All the same, an odd but pleasant smell hung in the air, faint, subtle, almost imperceptible. And even more implacable than his cologne.

She gave the window a wipe down, and then turned, catching herself in the mirror.

She was a little taken aback by how tired she look, subtle bags under her green eyes and redness just barely creeping at the edges of her sclera.

Her complexion was a little pale, making the light freckles across her nose and upper cheeks a little more noticeable. She thought she was fine when she showered this morning, but she saw that her scalp was dryer than it seemed, a few flakes of dandruff visible.

Her lower lip had a crack in it from lack of hydration, and to her dismay, there was something caught between her middle upper incisors.

She worked it out with a nail, and swallowed it, feeling some embarrassment at having missed that. In front of Amon, no less.

Did he notice? Did he not tell her out of politeness? Or maybe he hadn't, and she was just overthinking.

Why did she care what he thought of her?

Carly shook her head, trying to dislodge some burgeoning thoughts.

"Get back to it, Carly," she chided herself, and made sure to finish the bathroom without further distraction.

---

The rest of the floor was done quickly enough, and she reported to Amon once she'd packed all her supplies and the tools he provided up.

He was in the living room, drinking a fresh coffee and tapping away at a silver-grey laptop, closing it when she turned up.

"Ah, you're done?" he remarked.

"Yes, I've just finished up. Everything's back where it should be, and I made sure I didn't miss anywhere," she stated.

Amon nodded enthusiastically and stood up.

"Fantastic. I'll send your payment for this day to your bank account, and then future payments will come in the normal manner. And I can already see this place looking a little tidier, thank you," he praised with that dreamy voice. "I think I've gotten very lucky."

"Thank you," Carly remarked, feeling a little flustered over his generous words.

He escorted her to the front door, and opened it politely.

"I look forward to seeing you again," he said.

"Sure... no problem," Carly answered a little dreamily, before Amon closed and locked the door behind him.

She stood in front of the door for almost a minute before she caught herself, turning around and heading back down to the street, feeling heat in her cheeks.

It was just a cleaning job, but dammit, why did even that little bit of interaction make her feel excited?

He was hot, there was no debating that. But did she have the hots for him?

She sighed, quickly dialling a cab to take her home, but that still left her a few minutes to think. Amon was a friendly guy, but Carly didn't think he was interested in her like that. His eyes never seemed to wander, and he was definitely respectful to her the entire time.

Besides, who old was he? He looked at least mid 20s, maybe a little older, but it was impossible to tell with how good he looked.

No, he was just a client. And employer. She offered to clean his place, keep it tidy, and that was all of it. They might become friends, but nothing was going to come of it. She was out of his league anyways.

---

Over the next three weeks, she steadily formed a rapport with Mister Farid, coming on the few days a week she was asked to clean.

He really did an okay job keeping things tidy, so her work load was pretty light, for an okay amount of money, even if her other job gave her more hours. But the little cleaning side gig was almost a welcome reprieve from the stress and rarely-stopping nature of her other job. Cleaning Mister Farid's town house was simple, not much effort, and even a little relaxing.

And the conversations she had with Mister Farid, were always a highlight.

Turns out she was right, he was a model. He showed her a few pictures in his portfolio, all wearing suits of varying level of professionalism, striking confident poses, self-assured but relaxed. She even belatedly recognised some of them, but oddly enough, the pictures were less flattering to him than seeing him in person. All the same, he'd worked for a few groups.

It turned out, he was quite in demand, hence why he didn't have much time to clean. It took him across the country on occasion, so when he was home, he spent more time winding down and relaxing in his free time, instead of cleaning. It was a little odd he didn't have that much of an online presence, but apparently he preferred it that way, working through an agent and trying to avoid much fame, preferring a quiet home life compared to his premium line of work.

Carly wished she made the kind of money he did, but on occasions she saw how tired even he looked, and it made her contemplate the cost.

Driving around, flying around, going to all these places but being on too tight a schedule to really enjoy it, not having a lot of free time... Amon wasn't that privileged.

Still pretty privileged though. But he never rubbed it in, never really flaunted it outside of a few errant remarks that were a little egotistical, but never meant them or said them in an insulting way.

It was when he asked her about herself that Carly struggled to keep the conversation going. She didn't really have much to tell, her life wasn't all that interesting, and that her art degree wasn't going anywhere.

Then, one day, he asked if she could show or bring some of her art over. That was the last thing she wanted to do, it was too embarrassing.

"If you don't want to, I understand. But I am interested in seeing your style," he said.

Carly hunched over the kitchen table, wiping it down, removing a wine spill from last night - something Amon had apologised for when she arrived - and tried not to show her flushed face.

"It's nothing special. If it was, I think my art degree would actually mean something," she muttered, her washcloth starting to squeak against the tabletop.

"Well, we're all our own worst critics. If you ever change your mind, feel free to show me. I always enjoy seeing what other people have created."

The way he said it sounded so earnest, so genuine. She had a very real urge to agree, but she didn't feel like she could.

The conversation somewhat died down after that, and she made her way upstairs, leaving his room for last. She took a moment to check herself in the bathroom mirror, and found that her complexion had improved slightly; perhaps this job and its slight extra cash had helped ease the stress in her life.

She sighed, and continued until it was time to do the bedroom.

It didn't take too long to change the sheets, bundling up the old linens to take them downstairs to the laundry, and quickly tidied up the en suite.

But as she was finishing up, she spied something on the desk in the corner. More manila folders, except they were open, their contents half-exposed.

She knew she should've stayed out of it, it wasn't her business, it was an invasion of privacy, a breach of trust, but it looked like photographs, and her curiosity was just too strong to ignore.

She wandered over, glancing at the door just in case Amon suddenly rounded the corner as if summoned. Tentatively, she slowly pulled one of the photos out, first laying eyes on Amon's charming visage.

Her hands covered her mouth and her face went red when she pulled the picture almost the rest of the way.

It was Amon, but he was wearing nothing but some very tight boxer briefs, fancy and well made, but that wasn't what she was staring at.

He was even more beautiful than she realised, his body the perfect blend of athletic and slender. Not pencil thin, with defined musculature, but it was soft, and his caramel skin was even toned across the entirety of his body.

There didn't seem to be a hair on his chest, or his legs for that matter.

He had one of his hands resting atop of his subtle abdominal muscles, finger pressing into the shallow gutter.

Glancing back at his face, his expression was so much more... tempting, than she realised. More flattering than the pictures in the portfolio he'd showed her.

It had to be airbrushing, or photoshop, or something like that. No person could be that perfect, yet it seemed so real.

The other photos were like that, some in more clothes but still quite revealing, others in briefs that rather embarrassingly revealed a large bulge between his legs.

All these photos were modelling for men's underwear, but the pictures seemed almost softcore in nature. Either for women or gay men, this guy could've gotten either with a few words if he wanted.

It made her heart flutter.

She quickly put the pictures back the way they were, a moment of logic striking in her panicked state telling her not to put them all back in entirely. The top photo peaking out, just as she first noticed.

She finished up and went downstairs, doing her best to keep the small-talk to a minimum. After seeing those photos, after seeing Mister Farid like that, there were a lot of feelings swirling around inside her head, and facing him right now was more mortifying than she could bear.

"Is something wrong?" he asked her.

Oh no, he noticed.

Again, a moment of logic struck.

"I'm just feeling a little sick is all. Maybe inhaled some fumes. Or ate a bad quesadilla last night," she lied.

Amon cocked his head.

"Should I call a doctor? An ambulance?"

Carly shook her head emphatically.

"No, not that bad, I just need to go home and rest," she insisted.

Amon let a concerned look linger, and then nodded in understanding.

"Alright. Just don't push yourself, okay?"

"I won't, thank you," she said, bidding farewell and making for the door.

Once on the front steps, she covered her red face.

Dammit, why the hell was she acting like she just saw him stark naked? She'd seen plenty of dudes in their skivvies, even dudes with their cocks out on some odd occasions. Male models posing in underwear was nothing strange at all.

But none of them looked as good as Mister Farid.

She needed to go home and cool off, catching a cab and remaining silent on the way there.

Paying the fare, she got out quickly and pushed through the glass door into the foyer.

Compared to Mister Farid's townhouse, her apartment building looked at home in a post-Soviet city, the blocky structure only not a brutalist design by virtue of all the white panelling covering the brick and concrete, though the colour had yellowed and stained over time.

Simple balconies with glass and metal fences overlooked the busy street, towels, sheets, deck chairs, children's toys, even a bird cage all visible from below on the various levels.

The interior was a little cleaner, but the pale red walls, brown linoleum floors and off-white ceilings didn't offer much 'vibrancy' to the place.

The stairs were carpeted in an awful grey and red-brown tartan pattern the residents were constantly complaining to get replaced due to how often it obscured the edges of the steps.

Carly didn't even bother, instead taking one of two elevators, positioned directly across from the entrance on the far side of the foyer, up to the third floor.

She immediately exited to her right and went down to the second last door at the end. Her apartment.

She quickly unlocked and locked the door, throwing her keys on the kitchen bench.

Her place was a little untidy, ironic given her side job now. But at least everything was in reach, given how small the place was; the living room was separated from the kitchen by a bench, which had a bunch of cabinets on both sides and was also the dining table. The rest of the kitchen was opposite that bench, and crammed quite tight.

A glass door led out onto the small balcony, facing out the back of the building compared to where she entered, not that she had a view of anything other than more mutli-story buildings.

A few articles of dirty clothing hung off the backs of the chairs at the bench and the singular blue fabric-covered couch, perpendicular to the balcony, a small steel and glass-topped coffee table before it, a TV cabinet with a simple LCD screen TV and a bunch of movie CD cases stacked in front of it because she had an old collection like that.

She didn't linger long, putting her bag down and finding the door to the bathroom, right next to her bedroom, and immediately stood before the integrated vanity and mirror, the white-tiled bathroom as basic as it got, the only other colour being a light baby blue on some of the surfaces.

She rinsed her face down, and gripped the edge of the basin.

She stood there for a moment, contemplating the stupidity of it all; why was she this worked up over some risque pictures of her employer?

It was all nonsense, she shouldn't have peaked anyways, what if he saw? What if he fired her for snooping?

"Get it together, Carly," she chided herself.

There was no reason for her to be this worked up. But, perhaps... did she really need to be laid that badly?

It's been over a year. The last time was a little fling at university, that never went anywhere. Still, when she thought about it, she did find herself somewhat... wanting, for intimacy.

Was that what it all was? She hadn't had a go for a little while, and seeing someone so hot as Amon Farid got her that worked up?

She splashed her face again, and grumbled.

"I need a drink," she muttered, wandering back out into the kitchen and grabbing a can of cheap fruity wine, and spent the whole afternoon sipping it and seeing if there were any other better job openings, like she had been since even before accepting Mister Farid's job. No luck, and she spent the rest of the evening in a stink, streaming her favourite show and heating up a frozen meal in the microwave.

That night, though, when she was lying in bed, wearing nothing but her pink panties and a thin white singlet, with only a navy blue sheet covering her, sleep did not come easily.

She kept murmuring, shifting in bed. It wasn't all that warm out, but she felt so very hot.

Images flashed through her mind, images of a man getting so very close to her. His body was perfect, his voice was dreamy, exactly her type.

It wasn't so easily defined though, she couldn't quite make out a face. More than anything, it was the sense of desire that was most clear to her.

It eventually caused her to awake in the dark of her simple bedroom, huffing to herself.

She felt a moisture in her panties... and without even thinking, her hand slipped over the pink fabric, and began rubbing circles to the mound beneath, curling a fingertip gently against her bud through the material.

It left her underwear all but soaked through, feeling so very wet. She couldn't help herself, and slipped her fingers beneath her panties and started rubbing a pair of them side to side between her labia, massaging the more tender flesh between.

Her other hand gravitated to one of her breasts, squeezing it through her top. Goddamn, her nipples were so hard. She could feel them poking her palm through her shirt as she switched between them. They stuck out of the material so easily, she was even able to give them a gentle pinching, moaning from how sensitive they were, a weakpoint she'd always indulged in.

She sandwiched her clit between two fingers, gently squeezing and stroking back and forth, a soft gasp escaping her lips.

But the fiery need inside of her demanded more, and she slipped her fingers further down until those two digits were massaging her entrance with little circles. And after that, she curled her fingers and pulled them inside of her canal, pumping back and forth slowly.

The groping of her own breasts intensified, practically kneading her globes, sinking fingertips to the first joints into the meat of the average-sized handfuls.

Another moan escaped her lips, and she was thankful the walls in this apartment weren't cheaply built.

Her fingers went deeper, and moved fast enough she could hear the slick noise easily. It was obscene, Carly sure she hadn't been this wet more than a few times in her life. Or maybe her mind was exaggerating to her. Whatever, she was too damn horny.

Such that, as she plunged her fingers repeatedly into her sex, and slowly drew closer to a climax... she found it wasn't quite enough. She needed more than what her fingers could provide.

"Dammit," she grumbled, throwing the sheet off her, and her clothes after. She rolled over and braced on the flatpack bedside table next to her, reaching down to open the bottom drawer.

There, she pulled out her 'personal friend'; a slightly upmarket vibrating dildo, complete with a little buzzing forked strut to cradle the clitoris.

The sleek, curved purple device, with its slightly bulbous end, had a handle at the bottom where the controls were.

She set the thing to maximum, and felt it thrum to life, always kept charged.

Holding it to her clitoris, she whined as the vibrations coursed through the sensitive nub.

Her other hand moved down to join it, spreading her middle and index finger either side of her vulva to spread the labia a little bit, providing some extra access to her bud.

She felt the thin stubble around her her vulva, her shaving efforts consistent, but ultimately unrelated to any carnal desire; she hated the sensation of sweaty pubes.

Right now though, she wasn't sure she could tell the difference with how much she was leaking, wincing and arching her back as she massaged her clit with that vibrating toy, easing back and pushing back down.

Her breathing began to quicken, practically gasping as the need drove her. She had a sneaking suspicion that wine earlier might've left her a little buzzed, and was exacerbating her arousal, which didn't need the boost of alcohol to begin with.

Slowly, Carly worked the dildo down into the soft flesh between her folds, depressing the tissue as she pushed it into the hollow of her entrance.

She twisted it a little, groaning at the reduced stimulation, but it was still pleasant, a small preview of what was to come as she ground the tip of the dildo to her entrance.

And then, after her patience had finally waned, she slowly pushed that toy into her sex, twisting it around to push against her walls, to stir up her innards, to grind it into every sensitive fold and contour.

And, of course, her G-spot, earning a shrill moan from her mouth.

Her other hand retreated back to her chest, and squeezed her chest with a desperate need, flicking her sensitive nipples and tracing the areolae firmly.

Her body ground against the mattress, her thoughts far from the mess she was making of the sheets and how she'd have to clean it up.

She pushed a little deeper... and that's when that forked prong, buzzing only slightly less intensely than the dildo proper, cradled her sensitive clitoris.

She whined loudly, her hips leaving the bed and her shoulders causing the springs to creak.

Her innards were thrumming, and the pressure within her was building.

"Fuuuuuuck," she groaned, starting to pump that dildo in and out of her relentlessly, feeling like she was going to lose her damn mind at this rate.

Her toes curled, her fingers gripped the toy tighter, and her breasts too, feeling the explosive climax coming all too soon, ready to send her over the edge with bliss.

Yet, in the back of her mind, even as she was squirming atop the sheets and about to crash over that precipice, there was a sense of... lacking. That this wasn't enough. Sure, it was going to make her cum, but she wanted more. Something a dildo, no matter how good, couldn't provide.

It didn't stop her pushing for that climax, her voice hitching in her throat, gasping relentlessly, groaning from the coming ecstasy, the chemicals in her brain flowing.

She even had a bit of drool rolling down her lower lip.

Carly rapidly thrust that buzzing length in and out of her depths, unrelenting and uncaring of the ache starting to form in her forearm.

She was getting off, dammit. A bit of strain be damned.

It only took a few more thrusts to seal the deal, and she squealed in release, pushing that thing as far as it could go, trapping her clit with that thrumming prong, all to ride out a prolonged orgasm, spasming and shaking like crazy.

She yowled and whimpered, hips thrusting and back arching as a sputter of fluids left her pussy, her muscles seizing and quivering.

She kept that dildo inside of her for as long as she could tolerate, twisting from the overwhelming post-orgasmic stimulation.

Her endurance wasn't that great in that regard, but she pushed herself every time. She liked the way it felt, even when it become uncomfortable. Just that intensity, that she didn't think she could get with another person without having a lot of trust in them.

But it was no substitute for a warm body and strong hands.

Eventually, she couldn't stand it anymore, and ripped the dildo from her passage with a harsh gasp, shivering and going slack on the mattress, the toy still buzzing in her hand.

She waited a good half-minute before she eventually flicked it off, letting it go and laying on the bed, staring at the ceiling for a minute more.

She draped her arm over her face and groaned, a sense of embarrassment tickling the edges of her thoughts.

"Fuck me," she grumbled, thinking about the massive wet patch she felt on the sheet beneath her thighs.

And thinking about the root cause of all of this.

Sure, the alcohol played its part, and maybe she really did need to get laid.

But it was meeting Mister Farid and seeing those pictures that had gotten her so riled up.

She grumbled some more, feeling annoyed now; Mister Farid had done nothing but leave some photos a little bit disorderly. He'd been polite and professional since they met, and she couldn't blame him for leaving them around. It was his home, after all. Hell, it was his work.

But she was confident that it was Mister Farid in her thoughts. Tempting her with a forbidden fruit she could never have.

It royally sucked, because she couldn't just quit this job. Not when the problem was entirely on her shoulders.

"You're just gonna have to suck it up, Carly. Suck it up, get over it, whatever," she told herself. "He's just your employer. Your boss. Nothing's gonna come from it."

She wasn't sure if that really alleviated her apprehension. It certainly didn't dispel her discomfort; the heat of her desire and ecstasy was dying down, and now her room felt a little chilly, without her PJs.

She put them back on, even though her panties were now damp. It wasn't pleasant, but it was better than being naked. At least her top was dry, as was the covering sheet.

Though after such an explosive release, she was feeling a little cooler, now that she was calming down.

She placed her dildo on the bedside table, not bothering to put it away, and dragged a blanket hanging from the end of the bed up over herself.

Weariness followed suit, and she drifted off into sleep, somewhat satisfied.

But not entirely. And though she was not roused awake with arousal, dreams at the distant edge of her mind tempted her with the allure of a beautiful, slender masculine frame with caramel skin...

---

After that night, the next trip to Mister Farid's was slightly awkward, because it hadn't exactly faded from memory.

Fortunately, Mister Farid being his usual jovial and polite self, made it a little easier. They had a small conversation, he asked a few more things about herself that she couldn't really answer. They seemed a matter of genuine interest, and not some creepy interrogation. He never pestered, never pushed, never asked uncomfortable questions, and his specific questions were few and far between. He let her answer as much or as little as she wished.

Of course, she didn't have much to her life story, so she didn't tell much. It was enough for him, it seemed, but it kept their conversation short.

She cleaned as normal, and was relieved to see no risque photographs sitting on the desk in his bedroom.

His 'library' was a mess though, several stacks of books with haphazard bookmarks sitting atop of the table and the writing desk. Apparently he'd been doing some 'research' and catching up on an old novel.

She didn't give the books much scrutiny so she didn't know what they were about, but she struggled to believe that he actually read all those books.

'Decorative bookshelves' were such a thing, they even sold fake books to fill them. Some were just plastic shells made to look like a collection of books.

It seemed Mister Farid's were all real, right down to the smell, and he actually read them. Though what he was researching, he didn't elaborate on, related to his work he said.

Carly found herself torn regarding Amon; on one hand, she was definitely envious of his apparent wealth, having a job centred around his naturally gorgeous looks that paid well, and didn't involve doing blue-collar work or even white-collar work. He was well removed from her.

On the other, though, what she had learned from him was he took his job seriously. That it often did get demanding in its own ways, and could be physically taxing, given the handful of days where he was tired, and not from jet lag.

She wasn't sure she was going to figure out that conundrum any time soon.

Still, if she could make this sort of bank with her looks, she'd do it in a heartbeat, demanding or not.

Of course, she'd prefer not having to work her ass off just to survive too. A nice, easy life... one could dream.

Besides, she didn't think she had the beauty for it.

Her mood lowered a little with that thought, and as Mister Farid was again thanking her for her effort, she answered him more flatly than typical. He seemed to notice, his expression tinged with subtle concern, but he ultimately didn't press the matter before she left.

That night, she checked herself in the mirror, fixating on the imperfections in her face, and the lingering bags under her eyes, even if they were subtle.

Was she ugly? She didn't seem it, but she'd never really been approached by another man, or even a woman, since that fling. Maybe she just couldn't see what was wrong.

Carly tried to shake off these doubts, but they lingered and worsened, enough that the next time she went to Mister Farid's place, he noticed, and this time, he didn't remain quiet about it.

"Is there something wrong, Miss Myers?"

She was in the middle of wiping down the dining table, a few specks of gravy from a dinner party the night before. He often had people over, just never when she was around, hence the need for her more frequent visits instead of once a week.

The question caught her off guard, and she paused.

"Nothing, Mister Farid, I'm fine," she deflected.

He wasn't letting her leave it at that this time either.

"You can talk to me, you know. And I know that you're not fine, something's troubling you," he pushed, though his voice sounded very sincere. And something about it was just so... disarming.

She sighed.

"It's really nothing, just... I don't think I have good looks," she admitted, wiping a gravy stain with a bit more vigour.

"Nonsense," Amon dismissed, with such certainty and conviction, it caught Carly off guard once again, her eyes going wide as she looked at him. "Is this something others have said?"

"What? No, no, nothing like that!" she retorted, taken aback.

"Then let me be improper this once, and say you are quite beautiful, Miss Myers. I know that might not mean much, coming from another, but you really have no reason to doubt yourself."

Carly didn't know what to say, and was starting to feel heat rise in her cheeks. She could not allow herself to blush in front of Mister Farid.

But of course, she couldn't quite keep her mouth shut.

"Do you really mean that?" she asked, immediately wracked with internal embarrassment.

"Of course I do. I just didn't think it appropriate to say anything beforehand."

That made a lot of sense. He really did seem to respect professional boundaries.

If anything, that courtesy was something of a frustration for Carly, it made some nascent feelings bubble closer to the surface.

All the same, the compliment sounded genuine, and she couldn't help smile a little, her spirits buoyed.

"Thank you, Mister Farid. It means a lot," she told him, and he smiled warmly.

"It's always nice when you come over, it'd be a shame to see that shine of yours fade."

"My shine?"

"Well, your energy of course. People who shine brighten up the lives of those around them, or at least make others unable to help but smile when they see them, even just a little. That's the kind of person you are, someone who is a pleasure to be around."

That blush was becoming damn near impossible to suppress at this point. Carly couldn't stand the procession of compliments coming from Amon.

"Thank you, Mister Farid," she said simply, turning away from him so he didn't see her face go red. "I'll get this done and be on my way, and get out of your hair."

"You're right, of course. Just remember what I said, you're a lovely person, Miss Myers, inside and out."

He walked out of the dining room, and left Carly to think about the not-so-polite assumptions she'd made of him before they first met. Some slight shame there, but right now it wasn't enough to bring down her racing heart.

'Dammit, why does he have to be so goddamn charming,' she mused grumpily.

That night, she found herself beset with arousal once more, with more abstract dreams of gorgeous men with caramel complexions, though now they were gaining more clarity, the faces developing familiar details. It was a vague likeness of Amon Farid, but before it could really coalesce, she stirred again, and like last time, begrudgingly produced her toy, stripping her clothes and plunging it dry into her sopping womanhood, no lube required with how wet she was.

She groped herself, touched her sensitive parts, and roughly plunged her dildo in and out of her sex more assertively than last time. And when she was done, she still felt that tiny hint of dissatisfaction, lacking something she needed to make her feel full.

Again, she laid panting on the bed, grumbling.

Mister Farid was living rent-free in her head now, but still, she didn't think any sort of relationship was possible.

Though, his image in her mind was proving to be rather nice fuel for her fantasies. If she could just manipulate them in her mind a little more, then maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Maybe she could get more toys, mix things up a little.

Either way, she was definitely going to have to square with herself this desire if she was going to continue working with Mister Farid.

---

Things moved on from there, her mood improving and her nights filled with constantly changing efforts to play with herself in a variety of ways and positions, making do with what she had given anything more complex was out of her pay range.

And on the days she went to Mister Farid's, she worked diligently, and enjoyed their conversations, limited as they were. However, she had noticed something; Amon had grown increasingly more relaxed whenever she visited, sometimes wearing no shoes or just socks indoors. He lounged and ate while she was there, he wore looser, more casual clothes that caught her attention, he had adopted less professional mannerisms around her, but never lost his courtesy or respect. It still played on her thoughts, but part of her was somewhat delighted with this change.

She even got a chance to meet some of the other people that frequented his house; men, women, all people he seemed to know from his line of work, including a handful of very gorgeous female models, but even they seemed to play second fiddle to Amon's good looks, though oddly they didn't seem as taken as she was. And nor was he quite as candid around them as he was her.

Mostly, it was staff and photographers, but rarely did more than two people visit him, usually for a friendly catch up, never business.

Some days, he was less talkative, dead tired from a busy round of work. Though she still pondered the difference between his work and the labour of people like herself, she didn't resent him anymore, even that little bit she originally harboured.

Such was his charming, friendly personality, that one day, Carly opted to indulge an old request of his, bringing along one of her watercolour paintings from when she was in university. Most of her stuff was digital, but she did watercolour too, and it was her favourite piece.

The canvas was wrapped in fabric, but impossible to conceal, so when Amon greeted her at the door, his eyes were immediately drawn to her package.

"What have you got there, Miss Myers?" he asked with intrigue.

"I'll show you inside," she answered, and Mister Farid smiled and beckoned her into his home.

She made her way to the kitchen, the easiest place to show off her painting. There, she unwrapped the canvas and leaned it against the tiled wall on the bench next to the fridge.

It was a landscape painting, a typical depiction of a river winding through forested terrain. But details weren't quite as expected, twisting in ways and flowing into strange, eye-catching patterns. Some places had unusual colours like the spectrum had been inverted. Streaks of blue rose out of the river, twisting like snakes reaching for the sky, as though gravity had reversed.

Tree canopies were smudgy blurs of brushstrokes, but beneath the layer of green were flowing patterns of tree branches that formed spirals and eddies.

The sun was ringed with clouds that seemed to be drawn towards it, snared by tendrils of pale yellow.

A surrealist bent to an otherwise typical drawing, as was Carly's intent. Of course, it showed the crudeness of someone who was a little inexperienced, some bad brush-strokes here and there, some parts where her abstract intent wasn't quite executed that well, and a worrying feel that it was a little similar to some of those shitty AI 'art' images on the internet.

But it remained her most favourite work, despite its overall simplicity.

"It's the one I'm most proud of," she remarked. "Unfortunately, I don't get much time to draw on my tablet these days, and I just don't use watercolours anymore."

"That's a shame, because this is beautiful work," Amon praised, scrutinising the work. Surely he could see its flaws, god knew Carly could, but he seemed to like it.

"You think so?" she piped up.

"Of course. With some practise, you could be an amazing painter," he assured her.

"Well, maybe not amazing, but... thank you, Mister Farid."

"Credit where credit is due," he said... and placed his hand on her shoulder.

It wasn't an intimate touch. It wasn't firm, it wasn't even weighty. It was a casual show of appreciation. And yet, it made her heart skip a beat.

Once, she might've called it out, asserted her personal space. And if not, felt terribly uncomfortable.

Right now, she wanted him to squeeze a little harder.

His hand suddenly lifted away from her shoulder.

"Oh, sorry about that, I didn't meant to get in your space. I just like seeing talent on display, that's all," he apologised.

"No... it was no problem," she assured quietly, heat rising in her face.

"Do you mind if I take a picture?" he asked.

"No, of course not," she permitted.

"Thanks." He gave her a smile and produced his phone, and quickly took a snap. "I'm very glad you showed me this, I wouldn't mind seeing what else you've done."

"I think I can bring some around," she answered, her voice a little softer than before.

"Wonderful! I'll leave you to it, unless you want to talk about something first?"

She shook her head, and Amon nodded in understanding. He gave her another farewell, and then got out of her hair.

She was left standing in the kitchen, thankful he left just before her face went beet red... god, she wanted him to do way more than just touch her shoulder.

'Standards, Carly, standards.' She couldn't let herself be consumed by desire to fuck her employer, but it was easier said than done.

All the same, she went about her job only marginally distracted from that point onward, and left slightly hurried so she wasn't caught looking utterly smitten, that red in the face.

How he noticed when she was feeling down about her looks, but not all her blushing, was beyond her. Maybe Amon was just too polite to mention it.

Either way, that night, she brushed that toy over every sensitive point on her body, depressing her nipples and even her back door, buzzing the sensitive ring of muscle, though she was far from prepared to take it up her rear. A tingling touch was enough.

And so, she came again, wondering at what point she'd have to change mattresses. Thank god her sheets washed well, and thank god her dildo was damn good at its job.

Or she'd go mad.

---

The next week, things continued as usual, and Carly showed Amon a few more of her artworks, digital and another of her watercolours. He seemed to like them, but in the middle of showing a picture of a mountain with an ominous singular eye buried in a crevice running up its middle, he got a call.

He seemed annoyed as he excused himself to take it. It wasn't unusual he got calls, though there were days he kept his phone off so it didn't bother him.

She wasn't expecting him to suddenly shout.

"What?!" he blurted out. "What do you mean tomorrow?!"

It was the first time she'd ever heard him raise his voice. He sounded angry, but his tone wasn't abusive. More incredulous than anything.

"All you could get? But... already booked? Dammit... fine, I'll be at the airport in an hour, tops."

He hung up and shot Carly an apologetic look.

"Sorry about that. My agent. Got a very inconvenient gig. I'll see you later. Make sure to lock up when you're done."

She had a spare set of keys, he trusted her at this point not to steal anything, and she really didn't want to risk it at all. She couldn't afford it.

He left and rushed upstairs, leaving Carly alone to finish with the lower floor. She moved upstairs quickly enough, and hear him showering in his bedroom en suite.

She went about as usual, wiping and sweeping some of the dust. In the back of her mind, she was thankful that he actually did have people over, it meant she had job security in a sense. And also thankful they didn't make a huge mess.

Everything was tolerable, compared to the horror stories she'd heard from janitors and professional cleaners. Not once did she have to deal with so much as a 'skid mark' whenever she cleaned the toilets, a far, far cry from what she'd heard from some malls and venues after big events.

All in all, she considered herself quite lucky.

Such, with her thoughts as they were, she didn't really notice she was staring through the door into Mister Farid's bedroom, open a crack, perhaps due to his rush.

It took a moment for her to realise, and she went to shut it... just as Mister Farid left the en suite.

Her face went red instantly, a hand quietly clamping over her mouth to suppress the shocked gasp that escaped, her eyes all but bulging out of their sockets.

Mister Farid was drying himself off, but the white towel was around his head... leaving his entire body below exposed.

Including his penis.

He stood there for a moment, oblivious to her voyeurism, but she couldn't help staring. His body had a sheen from just coming out of the shower, enhancing his beauty. And it gave her a good look at his crotch, shaved perfectly smooth.

She had stubble, thin as it was, he looked like he never grew hair at all, it was that smooth a job.

He had no tan lines, no discolouration from spray-on makeup or uneven sun exposure, his complexion was exquisitely consistent.

He moved away, and so did she, making sure she wasn't caught in her immoral act, but she got a good look at his toned ass, not overly round like a curvy woman's, but not completely flat either, a taut, masculine rear that looked perfectly slappable.

She shook her head, she could not think things like that.

Her racing heart made it difficult though, seeing his body in all its glory utterly disastrous to her subconscious desires.

Carly tried to busy herself with the rest of the second floor, but she couldn't get the images out of her head. Especially what she saw between Amon's legs...

Good lord, he had a hog down there.

Heavy, but shapely, smooth balls hung behind a good half foot of flaccid cock. She had no idea if he was a 'grower' or a 'shower,' but even the latter erect would've been a sight. Girthy, but not intimidatingly so. He was uncut, foreskin covering a fat glans based on the shape beneath the skin. All of it glossy from the shower. It swung with weight with every step he made before she lost sight of it.

What the hell was he doing just as a model? He could've made a killing as a porn star... maybe being a model paid better.

Or maybe he wasn't that sort of man, 'get your head out of the gutter, Carly.'

Trying to do her job was not helping shake what she saw out of her head, and she could feel tingles in her core, where shame ought to have been.

What if it was the other way around? What if he was snooping on her just coming out of the shower? It wasn't right.

And yet, she wasn't feeling bad. Not because she didn't, not because she had no care... but because she couldn't.

Seeing him like that had ignited something inside of her, and now she couldn't stop thinking about him. It left no room for guilt.

She heard the bedroom door open with a creak, and Mister Farid emerged, hurriedly fixing a tie to a business-casual suit, a wheeled duffle behind him.

"Don't forget to lock up," he told her, spying Carly at the end of the hall. He didn't notice how red her face was and how she tensed up seeing him, he was in too much of a rush. "Thanks again."

With that, he carried his bag down the stairs to keep it from thumping, then heard the wheels rolling across the floor down below. The front door opened, then shut with a firm thud.

Mister Farid was gone, and Carly loosed a frustrated whine.

"Dammit, why?" she complained. This was not fair, not fucking fair at all.

The hottest, most gorgeous man in the world was right there, she'd even seen his damn cock, wanting so much to fuck him, she couldn't lie to herself.

And he was out of reach. Someone like him had to have somebody. Someone to fool around with, someone he was intimate with.

Or hell, maybe he was ace, and he was just put on Earth to torment girls like Carly with his insanely good looks with no hope of ever getting to 'touch the goods.'

She knew she shouldn't be objectifying him, but fuck, the chemicals in her brain weren't being so civilised.

And now she was horny. She could feel the tingle in her loins, and she hated it.

"Just get the job done, Carly, and get your ass home so you can go fuck yourself," she chastised herself.

True to her words, she finished her work, caught a taxi home, and much like when she first saw those pictures, slammed back a can of wine, even a second one, got herself tipsy... but decided, this time, not to wait.

She made her way to her bedroom, ripped off every last article of clothing, got her toy from her drawer, and let it buzz against her slick vulva, already wet.

There was a hint of resentment for Mister Farid. Having such good looks she could never enjoy. It wasn't his fault of course, entirely hers, but dammit, he was plaguing her mind.

She all but crushed her clit beneath the thrumming bulb of the dildo's tip, firmly grasping her own breasts, pinching her nipples in turn, and gritting her teeth from lustful tension.

And now, the dreams of night were here in day, in full clarity, and directed by her desires.

She wanted him to pin her down, shove that thick meat inside her, run his hands across her body with loving intimacy, rocking his hips and claiming every inch with a sensual thoroughness.

To have her wrists pinned down, maybe even feel those delicate but masculine fingers wrapped around her neck, giving the lightest of squeezes.

She pushed her dildo in to the hilt, squarely trapping her bud in the buzzing prongs of the forked strut.

Carly started to thrust that toy aggressively inside of her. Venting frustration over what Mister Farid had done to her. It really wasn't his fault, but dammit if she wasn't a little mad.

She really wished it was him, right now, taking responsibility and making amends for all the things he'd put in her head unwittingly.

But just thrusting her toy into her depths wasn't quite doing it right now. So, she took a quick break, finding a nearby towel to wrap around the handle of the dildo to keep it sticking upright, as she crouched over the buzzing thing and pressed it to her entrance.

It was a crude set-up, but seemed to stay straight when she suddenly dropped down, too worked up to tease herself. She needed to cum now, get her mind in some control.

It didn't feel like her, she normally wasn't this aroused, but Amon seemed to trigger this desire. Him and all his stupid sexy qualities.

She all but bounced on that dildo, doing her best not to let it fall over or slip out even as she started losing focus. She huffed, puffed, panted, and groaned in frustrated bliss, finally starting to close in on an intense orgasm.

She winced every time that prong struck her clitoris, perhaps a little painful, but it wasn't enough to dissuade from her riding, desperate for this orgasm.

"Fuck, fuck fuck fuckfuckfuck!" she repeated, less out of ecstasy and more out of frustration.

The mattress springs squeaked in protest, but her dildo stood straight, that's all that mattered.

In the end, she got what she wanted, bracing herself on the mattress with one hand, the other squeezing her breasts as firmly as she could stand... spasming and crying out in exquisite ecstasy, a surge of moisture flowing down the dildo's hard silicone exterior.

She clenched up firmly, eyes shutting and teeth gritting, overwhelmed by the constant sensations buzzing through her loins, aided by the fantasy of having ridden Amon's stupid fat cock, delivering her a most explosive climax.

But when she began to calm down, pulling off that toy and turning it off to spare the batteries, she was left to think about what happened, even as she panted.

Was she... a slut? She was never a chaste person, she did like to wear revealing clothes. But she wasn't all that promiscuous either. She had that fling in university, and she really enjoyed that toy, it was a godsend, especially these past few weeks.

All the same, she didn't go out of her way to seek out sex, intimacy, or even plain debauchery. Even if she felt like she was starting to get a little desperate, without realising it.

But this... this was a different level of horny altogether. Was Amon Farid really so hot that it brought this out in her?

She draped her arm over her face and grumbled, feeling like she had no answer. And now she was feeling the effects of those two cans of wine, so deeper thought didn't seem like a useful endeavour.

When she got her strength back, she dressed herself up and wandered back out to the kitchen to fix herself up an early dinner.

She considered if she should quit. If she'd become too infatuated with Mister Farid, if it was going to be a problem if she continued.

But the pay was decent. She could've found another job, but not many were going at the moment, and her other job didn't have extra hours for her, much as they took up the rest of her week.

She didn't like the idea of feeling trapped, but at the same time, and as she'd reminded herself a few times, Mister Farid was not at fault. He was a 'problem' in a very indirect sense, he couldn't be blamed for her being a horny bitch.

The wine was starting to make her a little tipsy now, so she quickly settled on a course of action; she'd keep working there, and see if she could get over it. If not, she'd have to apologise to Mister Farid and quit. It wasn't an ideal solution, but she didn't know what else to do.

"Stupid, sexy Farid..." she muttered.

---

Next week, she started work anew, and the first time went by without incident, though she was noticeably quieter and a little evasive around Amon. He noticed, but Carly deflected by claiming she was just a little under the weather, nothing serious to keep her from work.

The second time, however, he was lounging on his couch watching a movie. She didn't know what kind, only that he was wearing some very casual clothes, and his pose was... inexplicably tempting. It left her with a slight blush, which she did her best to hide from Mister Farid. Again, he seemed to notice something was off with her, and again, she said she hadn't really recovered. He didn't seem all that convinced, but left it at that.

It was the third time that things finally took a turn; Carly had arrived, did her work as normal, but avoided Amon as much as she could.

Before she left, he confronted her.

"Miss Myers, what is wrong?" he asked her. His tone was firm, but not aggressive.

"Nothing, nothing's wrong," she lied.

Amon wasn't having it.

"Miss Myers, there is something wrong, what it is, I don't know, but you've been distracted and withdrawn this past week. You haven't really wanted to talk to me, you seem to want to avoid me. Have I done something to upset you?"

"No!" she blurted out, and then looked away, embarrassed by her outburst. "Well, yes, but not really. You haven't done anything wrong."

"But I have upset you," he pressed.

"Not 'upset,' but... I don't really want to talk about this," she remarked.

"I can see you don't, and I understand, but this isn't something I think can be ignored. It involves me too, and I'm worried about how you're being affected. Please... you can talk to me, Carly."

He sounded so genuine, so 'real,' yet his voice was still delightfully charming. It was maddening.

Such that her emotions boiled over.

"You're stupid hot, dammit!" she shouted, before catching herself, eyes going wide and hands going to her lips.

Amon seemed slightly taken aback, but he composed himself.

"I'm stupid hot?" he echoed.

Carly sighed and groaned in defeat.

"Yes, Mister Farid, you're stupid hot. I... I think you're the hottest guy I've ever seen and... I saw some pictures. I mean, I didn't mean to, I'm sorry, but... they got into my head and I just couldn't stop thinking about you and I thought you were way too hot for me and I just didn't think you were interested and you're my boss so it'd be wrong and--"

Amon silenced her with a hand to her shoulder. He had a smile on his lips, but it was a little more knowing than usual.

"Is that what this is about, huh," he remarked. He looked her in the eyes, that piercing gaze gentle but enthralling. "I'll admit to a small transgression; I've known for a little while, but felt you didn't want to make anything of it. I didn't want to overstep my boundaries, but you are quite attractive, and I've enjoyed our conversations together."

'Oh no. Oh no no nononono,' repeated in Carly's mind. Her heart was racing faster, and that damned smile on his lips wasn't helping.

He was... into her? No, that didn't seem possible, he was way too beautiful for her. Yet, that gaze, there was a desire there.

Did he really want that? Did they know each other well enough for that? But then again, they'd spoken at length, even during the short period they've known each other, several hours per week, for nearly two months. Did that add up?

She didn't know, but she knew what her body wanted. What a more primal part of her mind wanted, shame be damned.

"Is that... true?" she asked, the dumbest thing she could've said, but Amon chuckled wonderfully.

"Of course it's true, I'm not one for lying. I just didn't want to cause you any problems, though it seems that happened anyways. But all the same, perhaps you would like to... get a coffee?"

The way he posited the question, the way his tone shifted a little towards the end, told Carly it was no oblivious offer. He knew what she wanted, and he probably wanted it too.

That cologne was tingling her nose, pleasant in its earthen, masculine way, she just couldn't describe it, how it was so good. Coffee seemed like the right idea, to do this 'properly..'. but she didn't want 'properly,' she wanted him.

She shook her head.

"No, Mister Farid, I... I don't think it's coffee that I want."

Her face was burning now, she couldn't believe she was suggesting this, but the man took it in a stride, gently cupping her cheek with his other hand.

"Please, call me Amon~"

His lips then met hers, and Carly's mind did a somersault.

They meshed so softly to her own, his jaw working gently. His tongue ever so carefully teased at her lips, but never sought entrance, merely grazing against her teeth.

His touch was commanding, but soft, she never felt trapped, but drawn in? It was like a black hole had caught her, gravity pulling her into Amon's embrace.

Her lips began to move in return, melting into the kiss as that wonderful smell took her, and her tongue teased at his, asking permission to slip inside.

It was granted, and the request was mutual, as their tongues began a most wicked dance between their mouths, Carly twisting her head to get a better seal to Amon's lips.

He rubbed her cheek with his thumb, whilst his other hand tightened its grip on her shoulder, starting to roll against it like a massage.

She couldn't help the moan that followed, succumbing to his seductive intensity, her hands gripping his waist. She could feel moisture building in his loins, yearning for his meat. But she didn't think herself so far gone that she was prepared to bounce upon it.

Still, she wanted more.

It seemed Amon did too, as he broke the kiss, his expression so wicked and hungry, and still so charming and alluring.

"Follow me~" he crooned, and took Carly's hand in his own, leading her to the living room.

He let go and went to every window, making sure each of the thick curtains were drawn tightly shut, leaving no one to be able to see inside. Carly realised why, and there were some reservations... but it was unlikely the curtains were suddenly going to be opened. And she was just too damn horny to care.

He returned to her, and brushed his fingertips lightly across her face, causing a submissive shiver to course through her, along with a shaky gasp. She did not mind him taking the lead.

"I have an idea, if you are okay with it... I have always adored the feeling of fellatio, though I can understand if you might be intimidated. My--"

"I, uh... I already know how big it is... kinda accidentally saw it that day you rushed out," she admitted in the heat of the moment, looking away.

Amon's eyes widened, but, he didn't seem too shocked. And it quickly gave way to a knowing smirk.

"Then perhaps you'd like a taste~" he suggested, hands moving down to undo his belt and open his fly, tugging down his underpants within... exposing that hefty member, twitching with growing arousal.

Her eyes fixated on it. In the back of her mind, part of her was ringing alarm bells, that the power dynamic was wrong, that a man shouldn't just casually flop out his dick in front of her.

But she trusted Amon, and another part of her, that had been yearning for the touch of another, smothered her concern. She watched as he sat down on the couch and spread his legs, encouraging her with a gentle dominance.

She found herself enjoying his subtle command, and there was always that hint of escape, that if she really wanted to, she could stop.

It only further encouraged her, as she dropped to her knees, and gently wrapped her fingers around his half-stiff length.

It quickly stood to attention before her eyes, Carly marvelling and worrying at its size. It must have been over seven inches, maybe eight, and on the thicker side. But still, deliciously proportioned, and its shape... she'd received her share of unsolicited dick pics online, and wasn't above watching porn. She knew what dicks could look like, pretty ones and the ugly sausages.

Suffice to say, the erection in her hand was the best looking penis she'd ever seen. It had a gentle upwards curve towards his belly, the foreskin peeled back taut to leave few wrinkles, and that hefty glans had a pronounced brim that seemed to pulse with every throb. The veins that ran around the circumference and length of the shaft weren't overly pronounced, but noticeable, blending well with the rest of the flesh, pulsing in much the same way.

His balls were still hidden in his pants, but she could smell a musky, masculine aroma that made her mouth water in a way she couldn't quite describe; it was far from unpleasant, the kind of smell that reminded one of fertility and desire.

It felt so strong in her hand, the mighty spear more than a match for any pussy.

But what of her mouth?

She'd given a blowjob before, a bit of experimentation. But it wasn't really her thing.

Right now, she wanted to stuff this cock in her throat. She couldn't explain it... but small steps first, Carly leaning in to gently curl her tongue off his tip.

It was... strange. A sense of shame continued to linger in her mind, like she was doing a bad thing.

But the look on Amon's face, a mixture of sensual dominance and gentle appreciation, encouraged her to continue, along with the oddly pleasant taste of his meat. She kept licking, tentative, but growing ever more fervent, as she got into a groove and fell deeper into her own lust.

Carly dragged her tongue from his root all the way to his tip, and then promptly repeated the gesture, only this time tilting her head and slotting Amon's cock between her lips, sliding all the way to his helm again, where she lingered and suckled on the back of his helm.

Amon sighed happily, high praise without a word spoken. She wanted to hear him moan some more, shifting herself a little and holding onto one of his knees for support, her other hand, still gripping his cock, beginning to pump up and down.

Leaving her mouth to focus on his tip, rolling her lips over onto his glans, doing her best to maintain a good seal.

Her tongue loosely rolled against the tip between her lips, but she didn't profess to be an expert, lacking in experience. Admittedly, she thought she might've been doing a bad job, but Amon continued to sigh in stimulation.

"Good girl~" he praised.

Those words were like a lance through her mind, and her panties felt that much wetter. A shudder coursed through her, and she couldn't describe the other sensations she felt.

Two words, and she wanted to do whatever to hear him repeat them. It felt so good. Was she always like this? Or was this a side of her only Amon could bring out.

It encouraged her, her lips sinking further down his mast, slurping at his cock, tongue waggling against his frenulum. Her hand continued to pump that mast, adding a twisting motion she hoped felt good. There was no complaint, so that was a good sign.

She went further, and brought the hand on his knee to his groin, fishing out his balls so she could cradle those perfect, heavy orbs in her palm, gently massaging them.

She was operating purely on intuition at this point, and on cues from porn, filtering out everything she felt wouldn't feel good.

Oddly enough, she was feeling good, just from taking this meaty, perfect rod in her mouth, tongue straining to lash every square inch it could reach, even as her head began to bob up and down upon the first half of that mast.

She had no illusions that trying to put it in her throat, much as she might have wanted, would have ended in disaster. But she was enjoying herself just taking that thing in her mouth as it was.

Of course, she didn't want the sensation to get stale, so she did something a little wild, in her eyes, and popped free of his mast, in order to dropped down and bring his jewels to her lips, that meaty cock gently bumping against her face.

His sack was large enough she didn't try and get both in her mouth at once, simply suckling in one, then the other, occasionally slurping from her crude efforts. But crude efforts soundly rewarded by gentle moans from Amon, and words of praise.

"That's it, that's good stuff~"

His voice was just so... it got her heart racing, and she waggled her tongue to his jewels rapidly, her other hand gently pumping the upper half of his dick.

The smell down so close to his crotch and his balls, her nose unable to avoid the occasional smothering by the sack, was so much more potent, it got her feeling so much more aroused, like she was breathing in a veritable aphrodisiac.

Dammit, why did he have to be so fucking perfect?

In time, she released his balls, and returned to his tip, letting her lips and tongue drag loosely against his flesh along the way.

Soon she was again stroking his mast and sucking the upper half, feeling that heavy head gliding against her tongue, leaking precum onto her tastebuds.

It was a little salty, but also a little creamy, and overall, not an unpleasant flavour. Amon must have eaten very well, but with his looks, that came as no surprise.

It made her consider not popping free when he came...

It certainly didn't stop her bringing her tongue's tip to waggle at his glans, lapping up every drop of fat precum that leaked into her mouth, viscous and goopy. God, was everything about him tailored to be perfectly sexy?

She was getting hornier and hornier just from giving him head.

The throbbing in his cock intensified, and his breaths and gentle moans of pleasure took on a heated edge.

"Soon, Carly... I'm close," he warned, that devilishly sensuous voice making her shiver. She bobbed her head faster, and her pumping hand matched it, saliva trickling down the rest of his cock offering some token lubrication. The feeling of his spit-covered balls in her hand was oddly pleasant on top of all this.

In the end, it seemed her efforts bore fruit, and she felt a surge in pressure in his mast, and in tandem came a warning.

"Cumming~!"

She only had moments to let go before she got a throat full of Amon's jizz, but suddenly discovered the above-average length was a little tricky to let go of in a sudden hurry, trying not to scrape him with her teeth... and as a result, managed to get the first two shots down her throat before she managed to get free, the rest painting her face, each heavy rope clinging to her countenance, thick and musky.

God, how was he cumming so much? His dick kept pulsing in her grip, and it was a surprising while before his spurts turned to dribbles.

She coughed and sputtered a little feeling some of that thick seed in her throat, involuntarily ingesting some of it. She wasn't much for facials either, but her mind was on the fact she just swallowed some of his cum.

"Are you okay, Carly?" he inquired, tone gentle but tinged with that familiar concern.

She composed her breathing and let go of his cock.

Her answer was... delayed.

"... wow," was all she muttered, looking at his maintaining erection, a fat dollop of semen rolling down the thick cord on the underside.

How could he have been that pent up? Even when she agreed to this, wanted this, the idea he was probably banging other women wasn't quite out of her mind.

But that didn't track with this kind of load. Or maybe he was just that healthy.

She brought a hand to her face, two fingers smearing some of his seed onto their tips, Carly eyeing the thick white stain on her digits.

As if spurred by some growing heat inside her, she curled her tongue against them, and tasted his surprisingly creamy seed, that faint hint of salt more complimentary than repulsive.

"I made quite a mess, didn't I~?" Amon remarked, sounding rather pleased with himself.

"Yeah... holy shit," was her only response, realising how much of her face was painted.

There was no discomfort though... instead, she felt that fire burning hotter. She wanted more. Just one round of oral wasn't enough to satisfy, but she didn't want to blow him again. She wanted to do more.

"Well, allow me to help you," he said, reaching down beneath the coffee table and producing a small box of tissues, using them to wipe down her face and wipe off his cock, wrapping them up in a clean tissue and leaving them on the coffee table, for now.

"That was wonderful... but I think you deserve to have the favour returned~"

He stood up, and gently hooked his fingers beneath her shoulders, and with a small squeak from her lips, Carly found the positions reversed.

Now she was seated on the couch, and he was crouched between her legs.

Her chest was heaving with how heavy she was breathing, anticipatory and anxious, as she understood his intent.

"May I~?" he asked, half-rhetorically as his fingers loosely hooked around the tops of her pants and underwear.

She nodded, and with a charming, devious smile, he pulled them down until her pussy was exposed, helping her lift one leg out of her clothes so they weren't in the way.

With her thighs now spread and Carly far more naked than he was when she sucked him off, her cheeks burned hotter than ever, but it did make sense, it was easier to get at his cock than her pussy in this position.

His eyes drank in her nethers, scrutinising every little detail of her slit, slightly puffy, the flesh between more visible than some. His hands slid across her thighs and gently caressed her vulva with his thumbs, teasing across the fine stubble that still wasn't as smooth as she would've liked.

He didn't seem to mind, tracing every contour like a blind man mapping out a person's face, learning her features before he even touched her more sensitive parts.

It both aroused her and embarrassed her, the latter emotion she was trying to curb; she was a grown woman, she was an adult, she consented to this, she wanted this, she wasn't a virgin, she needed to get over it.

But Amon just had this effect about him, that made her feel like it was her first time - ironic given she'd just sucked off his cock, the creamy taste lingering in her mouth - a small whimper escaping her lips when he finally grazed his thumbs across her labia, gently splaying them, and brushing over her clit.

For sure he was experienced, he knew the anatomy of a woman, every subsequent touch precise and deliberate, gently rolling his thumb against her bud. No joke about a man being unable to find the clitoris here.

Amon toyed with it some more, curling his thumb against the underside base of her clitoris, his touch gentle.

It was after a few more such teasing strokes did he attend to the rest of her pussy, gliding both thumbs down either side of her mound, gliding along her vulva and parting her labia, letting her juices roll down.

"Beautiful~" he praised, rubbing his thumbs up and down, first focusing on the inner surfaces of her outer labia, before toying with the folds of her inner labia, and finally grazing over the flesh in the middle, his touch upon her more tender parts precise and delicate.

A shiver raced up her body, feeling how masterful he moved his digits. She was honestly impressed with how good he was with just his thumbs.

And then he leaned forward and curled his tongue's tip from the very bottom of her slit, all the way to her bud, pressing against it firmly before rolling off her sensitive clit.

She moaned luxuriously, squirming a little when she felt him repeat the gesture, applying more of his muscle to the lick, the flat of that hot, wet appendage splaying her folds on their own and pressing down on her gash.

And of course, he made sure to curl slowly and firmly off her bud.

Amon soon adopted a circuit of teasing licks, waggling his tongue at her sensitive points and pressing down upon her pinker parts.

His efforts were growing more vigorous, a sense of chaos mixed with purpose, roiling everywhere, but hitting every sensitive point between her folds. Until he decided to focus on her clitoris, all but lashing it with rapid tongue flicks.

She yowled in delight, gripping the cushions of the couch to anchor herself down, like she might fly off otherwise. Her body shifted and wormed upon the couch, wriggling left and right and most of it was involuntary.

His tongue moved so fast, unbelievably fast, but not once did it become uncomfortable. He left no part of her bud untouched, grinding up between her clit and its hood, rapidly flicking the tip of her nub, and occasionally opting for swirling motions to mix things up.

Suddenly, he switched up tactics altogether, and brought his mouth to her clit and wrapped his lips tight around it, sucking with measured force as he lapped away at her bud.

Her hips raised off the couch momentarily, Amon pushing against her to keep her from slipping.

"Oh fuck!" she finally exclaimed, her words having failed her to that point. Now it was too good for her not to get vocal, the twitches racing up her body near constant at this stage. "How are you this good?!"

He didn't answer, simply smirking against her clit as he sucked on it, the occasional, quiet smack reaching her ears.

Eventually, he gave her bud some respite, and slid his mouth over her pussy proper, tonguing at her entrance, swirling the muscle about against the opening, gently parting it and teasing the immediate entrance.

Compared to her, he was a god at oral sex, Carly already feeling herself building to a climax. This had to be born out of experience, but she couldn't even think about how many other times he must have done it to get this good, because it just felt that good.

And as always, he took things a step further by pushing his tongue inside her canal, writhing it about between her walls, muscle rolling and undulating like an eastern dragon flying through the air, or slithering like a snake. And often, just twisting around with no order, chaotic and stimulating.

Meanwhile, his lips clasped tight to her folds, and added stimulation with his hungering sucking, gentle tugs occasionally joining the subtle twists of his head.

Carly was huffing and puffing, hips twitching as orgasm neared, still shocked at just how skilled he was.

Amon seemed almost inhuman in his perfection, and she couldn't get enough.

In the end, Amon made good on his promise, and sent Carly to the moon.

"Oh fuuuuuuck!" Her voice was shrill and shaky, matching the spasms that rocked her body, from limbs to the walls of her pussy, shuddering madly as she came.

Her sex flooded with arousal, and Amon drank it down, as his tongue continued its assault, even amidst her clamping walls.

He kept it up for a few moments longer, before finally popping free with a soft gasp, licking his lips once his head pulled away.

His hands moved to rest on her thighs, stilling them and letting the rest of her body ride out its incessant twitching.

When she calmed at last, he looked her in the eyes with that same delicious, charming gaze.

"You're adorable, Carly~" he praised, never letting the heat in her cheeks fade.

"Oh... yeah, I'm adorable alright," she answered breathlessly, sarcastic and a bit too out of it to really think on the fact he just used the word 'adorable.' "Holy fuck."

He laughed, and pulled more tissues out to wipe down her thighs and his own mouth like a damn gentleman.

"Glad to know I can please you, Carly. It's never fun to just receive and never give," he told her.

Had a perfect cock and liked making their partner feel their share of pleasure? This guy was either an angel or some sort of demon.

Hell, if he was either, she wouldn't mind at this point.

Especially since she wasn't done. Not by a long shot. Her need was too great now, she had to have him fuck her. Nothing else would satisfy her right now, she needed that dick. It was almost desperate, like a frenzy had fallen over her mind. She'd never felt like this before, but it wasn't going away.

"Amon... please... fuck me," she asked.

He didn't even skip a beat.

"Come with me then~"

He took her hand like Prince Charming asking Cinderella to the dance, and led her upstairs - after she stepped out of her pants to keep them out of the way, and he left his still raging erection free of his pants - to his bedroom.

She was a little nervous, but there was no way someone was going to see her bare ass going up those steps. Being nervous for what was about to happen though, that was another matter entirely.

He shut the door behind them, and then turned to give her a kiss, his hands wrapping around her body with sensual grace. He didn't seem to care that she'd given him a blowjob earlier, and she wasn't bothered by him having just eating her out.

When those lips came, and his tongue advanced, she practically melted into the embrace, though her hands found the strength to explore his body, all too eager to enjoy him as he was her. She wasn't ignorant to the bump of his cock against her belly either.

He murmured softly, the dance of their tongues as salacious as the first time, though the kiss somehow felt even more enthralling then before, as though a tingle was playing across her tongue.

Carly winced, feeling one of his hands glide down her back with such sensual pressure until she felt his palm following the curve of her buttocks, before finally taking a firm grasp of a cheek, feeling how the pliant flesh slightly filled the gaps of his fingers.

He rubbed and massaged, kneading her rear with a gentle dominance. Possessive, but not uncomfortably so, Carly pushing her rump back out against his hand in response.

Before long, she realised he was delicately removing the rest of her clothes... and she, almost subconsciously, was doing the same, loosening his belt completely and dropping it to the floor, his pants following. He stepped out of them and kicked them away.

Next, Amon pushed Carly back a little to pull her shirt off, and with unexpected mastery, undid the hooks of her bra without even looking, only taking a few moments to work out how they worked by feel before doing so.

The garment fell away, and Amon's eyes were drawn to her chest, the modest handfuls bared shamelessly.

He cupped one and gently fondled it, his other hand moving to brush a thumb over the nipple of her other breast. She flinched and sighed, her arousal still at peak even after that intense orgasm. It had been high ever since she sucked him off.

Whatever, her heart was racing, and she could all but hear the beating in her head.

Her hands moved to his shirt, and somewhat crudely pulled it up over his head.

She muttered at her roughness.

"Sorry, just... been a bit since I've done this," she admitted to her immediate dismay. She just could not stop herself saying these stupid, unsexy things.

Amon chuckled and caressed her cheek with the back of his hands.

"Then hopefully I'm worth the wait~" he purred, stepping away from her, against the bed, leaving her to drink in his entire naked body, with erection to boot.

His caramel skin, subtle musculature, smooth complexion, and just... everything.

He was as perfect as a human could be. And she was about to have sex with him.

"Would you like to take the lead?" he asked her, and she shook her head.

"No, Amon... really, I want you to fuck me," she insisted, getting a little assertive.

He nodded with a knowing smile, and then laid her on the bed with a mixture of sensual dominance, and tender intimacy. It was that combination of manner that so enthralled Carly, feeling like she was submitting to him, but treated oh so nicely.

He fished into one of his bedside drawers, and pulled out a box of condoms that looked completely fresh. The plastic film around it hadn't even been opened. He quickly rectified that, tore open a packet, and rolled the transparent sheathe over his mast with a precise care. It clung to his cock snugly, no wrinkles or pockets to be seen except around his veins and glans.

Next, he produced a bottle of simple lube, so clearly he was prepared for this sort of thing. Whether it meant he always planned to seduce her, or for the occasional fling, Carly again didn't care about.

With a dollop of clear lube lathered into his protected cock by a few sensual strokes of his hand, he was soon ready to begin, wiping his hand down on a small towel he'd also grabbed from the upper drawers, though that seemed innocuous.

Now he climbed onto the bed and crawled up to her, leaning down to pepper her thighs, her belly, her breasts, her shoulders, and soon her lips with kisses, before that girthy tip teased at her sex.

A shudder raced up her, Carly realising it was larger than her toy. She figured she could take it, but her apprehension was reasonable.

Amon seemed to notice, and smiled, those eyes taking away her worry.

"I'll be gentle, my dear~" he crooned.

"You're so hot..." she uttered, hardly as smooth as he was, but in the moment, it was all she could say.

He chuckled softly, seductively.

"Thank you kindly~"

And then he started grinding his cock to her slit.

She groaned aloud, rocking her head back into the pillow beneath her. A breathless gasp followed, feeling Amon's lips to her neck, sucking with a careful firmness.

Her arms wrapped around him, gripping different points on his back and letting her fingertips walk across him, feeling the subtle flexing of that hidden muscle tone beneath soft caramel skin. He felt so exotic, like a forbidden treasure from a far away land.

A treasure about to claim her for itself.

He stopped rubbing her slit, that fat helm pressing hard to her flesh, inching down until it was right against her entrance... and slipped inside.

A soft gasp escaped her, just the tip not enough to send her wild, but it already felt girthy enough, delightfully stimulating.

She twitched, feeling herself loosely pinned beneath Amon as he grabbed one of her shoulders for leverage, the other supporting himself on the mattress.

With almost taunting slowness, he delved deeper, letting her feel every inch of his mast gradually stretching her walls.

The moan that followed was low, strained, but full of bliss, Carly feeling herself filled in a way she never had before, that throbbing length twitching so hard she could feel it.

She almost wished he hadn't put that condom on, just to feel the heat of his flesh and the fat precum that oozed from his tip, to have nothing between her walls and his meat. But she wasn't that horny.

Close though.

Soon, his crotch met hers, and his balls brushed against her body, those hefty nuts warm against her skin.

Everything about him felt warm, pleasantly so, like his body was fuelled by an internal fire.

It made her grip his back tight just to feel that warmth against her palms, getting as much skin contact as she could muster.

She huffed, already starting to pant just from this intimacy alone, but Amon was about to kick it up a notch.

"Ready, my dear~?" he asked, his voice husky, almost divine. She thought there was an imperceptible echo to it, but that was just the horny talking and his inherent charm.

"Abso-fucking-lutely," she answered, all too impatient to get proceedings underway.

Amon chuckled, and tempered her flame with a sudden, soft kiss.

"Enthusiastic, I see~"

And so he began to rock his hips with a fluid grace, plunging that mast back and forth within her passage, that fat head scraping her walls with the corona on every return stroke and stretching her wide in advance of the shaft with every push.

She gripped him tight enough her nails dug into his skin, but he didn't even flinch, speeding up by a notch after a few thrusts.

As he did, Amon leaned close and stole another passionate kiss, thrusting his tongue into her mouth as their lips wrapped together, Carly returning the favour practically subconsciously.

Her murmurs were muffled, but feeling the hand to her shoulder slide luxuriously to the side of her head, cupping her cheek, made her practically melt into Amon's embrace.

He reached the next level of speed, balls gently swinging now, enough she could feel them bumping against her body with every erotic roll of his hips, plunging deep into her canal.

She squirmed, and then steeled herself, trying to make it easy for him to thrust. Because feeling that cock fill her depths, plunging in and out of her womanhood over and over, even slowly, stuffing her so thoroughly... it was incredible.

Her hands roamed across his back now, nails scraping along his skin and teasing him with her intensifying lust.

Amon broke the kiss, sliding his hand to grip her chin.

He chuckled sensually, with a casual, seductive dominance that made her heart skip a beat.

"You're so snug, Carly... I can feel you gripping me every push I make~"

She wasn't able to answer, Amon sliding his thumb over her lips, gently tugging the lower one down. With no effort, that transitioned into his thumb sliding between her lips and gently depressing her tongue, causing her to moan submissively, a shiver racing through her, lost in the twitches caused by Amon's gradual thrusts.

He laughed sweetly, and picked up the pace again, his hips now quietly but audibly slapping against her crotch, a moist edge to the noise owing to her arousal.

Her back arched a little, starting to feel herself rocking back and forth from Amon's thrusts, Carly loosing a garbled whine around Amon's thumb, Mister Farid not done toying with her mouth.

He started twisting his hips, grinding his mast against her walls, that plump head impossible to contain with her gripping muscles. It just made things feel all the more delightful.

This stirring of her loins left her feeling needy, stimulated, but desperate for more. And yet this gradual increase of speed was just what she wanted, allowed to savour the moment for as long as possible, before things shifted to high gear.

Amon's hips now started to slap against her body, and the force translated to her breasts, wobbling back and forth with each impact. The bed springs protested quietly, the mattress rocking subtly with Amon's motions.

Carly wrapped her arms tight around his body, pulling him close until she could feel her nipples ever so gently brushing across Amon's pecs, though the intimacy did little to stem his pace.

Soon he was thrusting even faster, and was no longer twisting his hips to refocus his cock into her passage, working on finishing her off, and him with her.

It wasn't going to take long, she could feel that meaty thing grazing her G-spot with every rough stroke now, and the sound of Amon's lustful grunts, muffled by their lecherous, obscene kiss, only added to her desire. Her legs crept up either side his own, tensing a little.

The wet slapping was now filling the room, his balls swinging with force, her pussy quietly squelching.

She was gonna lose her mind, this was better than any dildo, and better than any other fuck she'd had in her life. What parts of her remained coherent still couldn't shake the feeling this was all some insane dream, birthed by her growing desire for Amon, and right now she was unconsciously touching herself whilst asleep in her little crappy apartment, soaking her sheets.

Surely not getting fucked by the most gorgeous and apparently skilled man alive. Surely not.

But it felt real. She reached down and even pinched her own thigh, and she wasn't waking up from feeling every soft part of her jiggle from Amon's thrusts. She was getting ploughed by him, and the throbbing in his cock was sign enough he was about to cum.

Part of her wished she did more, but she wasn't used to taking the initiative. And right now, Amon was fucking her so good she couldn't even begin to take the lead.

Pressure was building, her own climax fast approaching. She couldn't hold out much longer, especially not once Amon hit maximum speed.

Her cries, though muffled by the kiss, were loud and harsh, a whimpering edge growing faster and faster and more shrill as orgasm neared.

And then, she finally lost the battle, screaming out into Amon's mouth and spasming atop of the bed. But even her violently clenching walls were not enough to slow his efforts, those rippling muscles only stimulating him based on the lusting grunts that escaped him.

He wasn't about to stop, not when he was close, ramming into her pussy with intensity, sending her ecstasy skyrocketing, and prolonging her orgasm.

But all good things had to come to an end, and fortunately so, or she felt she was going to lose her mind to the endless climax; Amon loosed a growling moan into the kiss - at no point ceasing even as it got crude and shaky from Carly's finale - and slammed his hips to the hilt inside of her pussy.

His hips jerked with each potent throb of his cock, and the spurts that came with them, but alas she got to feel none of it with that condom.

But she did get to feel his balls contracting against her buttocks, jumping and tugging against her skin, squeezing and pulling upwards with such force and potency, she scarcely could've believed it in that tiny part of her mind that wasn't sparking like crazy.

They embraced each other tightly, feeling one another's shivers of ecstasy, revelling in the shared lust, until they finally found calm, relaxing against each other. Carly's body was alight with lingering tingles, as she caressed Amon's back, fingers grazing along the musculature either side of his spine.

He touched her body with sensual prowess, and their kiss regained its erotic touch, free of erratic twitching and disruption.

After some time, it broke, and they stared into each other's eyes.

"This feels like a dream," Carly remarked.

"Would you want to wake up if it was?" Amon asked slyly, pecking her on the neck.

"I think I'd be tempted to stay asleep," she answered with a chuckle.

"Well, thankfully we're both awake~" he said, pecking her neck again and making her sigh out.

"Fuuuuuck... I don't think I've felt more satisfied in my life," she said, looking either side of herself and contemplating a few things. A look of concern soon followed.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Just... I don't know what I'm gonna do now... I feel like this was a one time thing, and... I just don't know if you and me could possibly work," she admitted.

Amon laughed softly and sympathetically.

"Carly, this doesn't have to be a 'one time thing..'. I like you. And I want to see more of you. To feel more of you. To enjoy more of you," he told her, another peppering of her neck making her shiver and sigh shakily.

"I want that too, but... you're some crazy gorgeous model, with a life I won't ever experience or keep up with... I don't think it'd fit," she explained.

"Who says you can't? But, if you do feel so, I have a... compromise, even if it may sound almost transactional or lacking in passion."

"Well, I'm up for suggestions."

"We keep going as we are," he began. "You come, you continue to work, but when we have the time, we can... enjoy each other. And I cannot stress this enough, for our own desires, I don't want my money to be a factor at all. The cleaning can... just be an excuse to come around."

She thought on this, and saw where he was coming from; a secret side squeeze, that's what he was suggesting. It made it sound vulgar and disrespectful, or worse, like cheap sex work.

The way he sounded made it clear he saw the connection, and wanted it to be as far removed as possible.

Carly considered, for a brief moment, the first time since that initial kiss all her faculties were in play, what it would mean for her.

A casual fuckbuddy was not an offensive idea to her. She rather liked it, if they couldn't date. She just didn't like any of the other possible connotations, though seeing Amon sharing a similar sentiment eased her worries.

As long as it stayed a matter of 'casual fuckbuddies..'. she thought she could live with that. Nothing wrong with someone to have hookups with.

Besides... no one else made her feel the way Amon did. Something felt so... strange, and exciting during their tryst. Like something inside her was being tugged on, her body tingling.

She wanted to experience it more.

"Alright, Mister Farid. I think I can live with that, on one condition," she stated.

"Name as many conditions as you'd like, within reason of course."

"I get to call it off whenever, if I feel like circumstances change," she asserted. She was going to add 'and I don't want any reprisals regarding my work,' but she felt she would quit if the arrangement ever ended, and truthfully, she didn't think Amon was the kind of man to do that.

He smiled.

"Sounds perfectly reasonable to me. And who knows? Perhaps we might end up getting that coffee one day~"

Carly looked off into the corner of her vision, pondering.

"Well, we'll see~"

They both chuckled, and shared one final kiss and cuddle before they had to extricate themselves.

Amon let her shower in his en suite, and once she was dressed, she bade farewell and hailed a cab.

On her way home, she was filled with all sorts of feelings, but ultimately, she couldn't help be all bubbly inside; there were millions of girls who'd kill for what she had. Or maybe not.

All she knew was how much her heart raced over this new arrangement. And always, a subtle hope that it might become something more... though a gut feeling had her wondering in what way that'd be.