Ch. 4. Bob and Isabella Collaborate

Early the next morning Isabella, fully refreshed, knocks on Bob's door. She is wearing a white miniskirt and a long-sleeved crop top, with fashionable calf-top leather boots on her feet. Her dark hair spills over her shoulders to her breasts.

"Welcome!" says Bob. "Thanks for coming over."

"Well, I gotta say I'm intrigued with this little project," she says. "If you don't mind me saying so, 'literary smut' is almost an oxymoron - so full of itching contradictions -- kind of like a puzzle. Naturally, I couldn't wait to get started!"

"Neato," says Bob. "Come on in, and we can shoot the... errr consult."

Isabella follows Bob to his living room and perches demurely on a chair. She looks at him with an inquiring expression.

"So, what do you want me to do?" she asks, relaxing back and crossing her long athletic legs.

Bob is momentarily gobsmacked.

"Keep it clean, Bob."

"Oh ... of course," replies Bob a bit awkwardly. "Good creative smut requires platonic collaboration. Umm ... can I get you anything? Coffee? Tea?

"No thanks," she smiles. "Had a bit before I came over."

"Just as well," he says. "I forgot the Northern Lights scrambled the chip in my microwave last week."

"We are living in Georgia, Bob."

"I admire your organized life is what I meant to say," he scrambles to recover.

Isabella glances around the room, taking in the catastrophe of scattered books and papers on his desk. "I can see why you would."

"Errr ... it's creative rubble."

"Yes, I was certain that was it."

Bob rubs the back of his neck and nods. "Yuh -- well that's the problem isn't it? I'm creating stuff but it's all crap. Like I said yesterday, that's why I need that feedback from a woman's perspective."

"Well then, how about if we go over your first draft from yesterday?"

"Good place to start."

"Well, as I remember, we have met at an expensive event for unethical businessmen to buy off corrupt politicians. We have been exchanging veiled and lascivious looks all evening."

"And I, a tall, elegant man, have inveigled your semi-innocent ass out onto the heavily perfumed veranda.

"Ah yes, the two of us have sneaked off for some ficky-fick as the old expression goes. What was the last bit where we left off? Read it back."

Bob sorts through the dismaying disorder of his desk and finally unearths a yellow legal pad. "More notes than an actual manuscript," he says, "but I'll try to fill in the gaps."

"Then his fingers curl, pressing into the wet velvet of her G-spot, pulling her close to him. She sobs in ecstasy; her face contorted with raw pleasure. "AHHHH FUCKKK!!! OH MY GODDDD YESSSS!!!" Her body jerks suddenly against his fingers. "Ohhh Bob! I ... I'M CUMMINGGG SO HARRRRD!" She convulses in waves of ecstasy. Finally, she melts back into his chest, still breathing fast and opens her eyes slowly. "Holy shit... that was incredible!"

Isabella smiles bemusedly. "Needs more feeling," she says.

Would have thought there was enough of that."

"You're a pre-med. You should know that men have two brains and you are using the wrong one."

"It's the appropriate tool for the task."

"What I meant is your characters are like centipedes ... they have a hundred appendages groping each other."

"OK," says Bob.

"Sometimes people are just horn-dogs true, but it isn't always about just getting laid. Real people are usually twisted in some way. Their relationship with another person reinforces the places where they have been damaged, or dinged at least, or help amplify what is best in them. Sex is part of that. It can be about repair or regeneration or celebration or ... feelings, like I said."

Bob nods. "You make it sound so literary."

"Well, that is my woman's contribution and maybe it would improve your work."

"So will you help?"

Isabella taps a fingernail against a front tooth. "Yes, I think so. Let's build something clever."

Well, you know where I've gotten to. What do you think we should do next?"

Isabella taps a fingernail against a front tooth. "Well, as your consultant on female veracity, you have described the foreplay rather well... you get it right about the penetration with the fingers... that delicious stretch and friction... It's such a visceral sensation..."

"But we shouldn't just do that moment. We don't want to skip the warm-up and stretching before the game, so every line in the story should build lust and wantonness, if you get my drift?"

"Smellin' the coffee," says Bob.

"Oh good!" says Isabella, giving a thumbs up. "Now how about we do some role-playing to see what sort of licentious details we can invent? I'm going to visualize this from the woman's standpoint."

"So, they are on a dark corner of the terrace. She is feeling the smoldering attraction between them. He reaches for her waist and pulls her taut stomach against him. His scent draws her willingly in. She reaches her arms around his shoulders and presses her breasts against his chest."

"The tight fabric of her low-cut bodice shifts against her stiffening nipples. The rough tingling sensation is electric--instinctively she arches to press the mound of her womanhood against his male hardness. He reaches down to dig his fingers into her booty, holding her hard against it. She bites her lip, trying futilely to control her desire, but her body betrays her.

Isabella pauses and shifts slightly in her chair. Bob is suddenly afraid to move at all. "So, what do you think so far?" she asks.

"Definitely working for me," he says uncomfortably.

"What should come next?"

"Go for the pussy," Bob says.

"Think up for a moment, not down," says Isabella, tangibly annoyed.

"But this is more than just a bodice-ripper," says Bob. "We're trying to do some serious porn here. Still, I suppose we could use it as a warm-up."

"That is the whole idea," says Isabella sarcastically. "All right."

She feels his hands glide lightly over her tight abs. His fingers slowly trace gentle patterns across her bare stomach, sending shivers of pleasure racing through her entire body. She inhales sharply at the unexpected warmth of it. His fingers push aside the strap of her low V-neck dress to reveal the delicious roundness of her breast to the cool air. He cups her breast gently in his palm. She arches into the tenderness of his touch, her breath catching. "Mmm... yes, Bob," she gasps, her voice unsteady with lust.

Isabella opens her eyes. "I'm on a creative roll here. Did you get all that?"

"Vivid," says Bob. "All recorded." He holds up his phone.

"Good."

"So, keep it going," he says anxiously.

"His thumb strokes her sensitive nipple, rolling slowly as it hardens, then pinching quickly as her body twitches reflexively. His breath is warm and steamy on her neck as his mouth closes over her breast-- his tongue strokes her nipple. The sensation shocks her with its intensity. A gasp escapes her, her whole body responding before she can steady her breath. "Oh... Bob... yes," she manages, her voice breaking. The moment overwhelms her, waves of pleasure building until her breathing turns uneven and urgent. There is nothing in her world except the intoxicating sweetness of the garden and his touch on her hungering flesh. She realizes her panties are becoming soaked as the heat between her legs grows unbearable. She looks at him, her eyes glowing but half-closed, her expression dazed by the force of everything she's experiencing."

Isabella pauses to sip on a glass of water. "I think that is still true to your original plot line, but the slower build adds to the anticipation and tension. What do you think?"

"Now do I go for the pussy?" Bob asks hopefully.

"Jesus Christ, Bob!" says Isabella. "You aren't even done with my tits yet. Can you at least try to be a little professional about this?"

"OK," says Bob, abashed.

"All right," says Isabella in a rather governessy tone. She closes her eyes to imagine what Bob would do to her next. She sighs. "Here goes."

I would raise my leg slightly to stroke my inner thigh against you. My hips would twist instinctively so I could press my woman parts against the bulge in your pants."

Suddenly Isabella lets out a startled yelp. "Why did you just do that?"

"Do what?" says Bob.

"You just stuck a finger up me."

"Did not! I'm all the way across the room.

"Oh, you are, aren't you?" she says in momentary confusion. Then she shakes her head "Damn house elves keep stalking me," she mutters furiously under her breath. "And that damn pervert Dobby ... when I catch his ass, I'll burn both his hands."

"What did you say?" asks Bob.

"Oh nothing. Anyway, now that we've established that I am ready to escalate, what's next?"

"So, I can go for the pussy now?" asks Bob feverishly, clearly inspired by Isabella's grasp of the situation.

"Yeah, I guess. But there is a problem," says Isabella. "The story so far has managed to leave both of us fully clothed."

"Nope," says Bob. "You are undressed and ready to go."

"When did that happen?"

"I just wrote it a minute ago," says Bob. "Wanted to move the action along."

"Hmpff... well, I guess it's your story, Bob," sniffs Isabella.

"Damn straight," says Bob.

Isabella considers. "OK then, but you have to know when I am ready."

"Ready?" says Bob. "Isabella, your panties are on the floor!"

"What?"

" It's all written in."

Isabella ignores him resignedly. "Ok. Ok. So, your hand roams up my thigh to find my carefully trimmed pussy," continues Isabella. "Now what? Do you stroke my hardening clit or plunge your fingers into my entrance?"

"Hmmm," says Bob. "Pussy or clit. Which would most girls prefer, do you think?"