“I thought you said that Professor Ulrich’s was on a modest academic salary,” Claire Currie said.
Mr. Dillon looked around the antechamber that the maid had brought them to. A large wooden table dominated a room decorated with expensive paintings, a few leather chairs and a chandelier that may have been crafted in another century.
“I know, Ms. Currie,” Mr. Dillon said. “The obvious poverty almost wrenches the heart.”
The doors to the hallway opened and the maid came back in. Behind her were a Hispanic man and woman. Mr. Dillon growled and Claire felt the hairs on her neck stand up.
“The Professor will see both of you shortly,” the maid said as she left the room.
“Sonia Garcia,” Mr. Dillon said. His voice was neutral and devoid of emotion. “Chief Procurer for the Vargas Foundation.”
The woman smiled. She was bearing more cleavage than Claire thought was structurally possible for a blouse. Thick black hair was held back by a silver headband. As Claire studied her, she noticed that the woman’s smile never reached her cold eyes.
“Oliver Dillon, head librarian for that antique collection of trivial smut called the Collette-Ashbee Collection,” Sonia said.
Mr. Dillon turned to Claire. “You may not have heard of the Vargas Foundation as they were only founded within the last fifty years. Their mission is to collect erotic books, films, magazines, and novelty items of an erotic nature.”
Sonia frowned. “What Oliver meant to say was that unlike the non-discriminating Ashbee-Collette collection which buys every single book every written no matter how shitty it is, the Vargas Foundation only adds the most prestigious and highest quality works to their collection for the future enrichment of mankind.”
“Oh yes,” Mr. Dillon said. “I forgot that the Vargas Foundation with their mere decades of existence have already decided which works of erotica will merit study in the future. I don’t knob why I keep forgetting about their clairvoyant approach to erotica.”
“This is my assistant, Manuel Ortez,” Sonia said as if she didn’t hear Mr. Dillon. “He is a superb researcher and although at least half your age, Oliver, he already posses a knack for identifying forgeries that is uncanny.”
The young man nodded towards Mr. Dillon and Claire. “Pleased to meet you,” he said in accented English.
“This is my assistant, Claire Currie,” Mr. Dillon said. “Despite her tendency to confuse the names of Italian authors, she has a slightly better than average skill when it comes to spine damage analysis.”
Sonia was silent for a moment as she tried to understand if Mr. Dillon was insulting his own assistant or wildly praising her skills. Claire knew him well enough to know that it was the latter.
“It is nice to make your acquaintance, Ms. Garcia,” Claire said. She offered her hand to Sonia. The woman did not take it. Claire put her hand down and decided that she would hate this bitch too.
“Ah, you have an assistant from Britain?” Sonia said. “Her accent will give your library the appearance of intelligence that has been lacking.”
“I was going to make a witty retort but I realized that your lack of a proper education would make it difficult for you to understand my insult,” Mr. Dillon said.
“The only thing I do not understand is why he invited your sad little Collection here today,” Sonia said. “The Vargas Foundation will pay whatever it takes to secure the Breastinomicon.”
“Perhaps he wishes you here to see how a real collector of rare books handles priceless merchandise,” Mr. Dillon said. “He is a professor after all. They do love teaching the ignorant.”
“Oh please,” Sonia said. “When we purchase the Breastinomicon, we will have every page scanned and uploaded to our database. The book will be put away in a special vacuum vault, never to be touched by human hands again while the contents will be enjoyed by future students of the Vargas Foundation. This is far superior to being locked away at whatever shelf the owners of the Collette-Ashbee Collection use for their hoarded books.”
“Hoarding is such a strange word to use,” Mr. Dillon said. “We loan our books all across the world to colleges and established learning centers of erotica. We collect and disseminate without prejudice for who knows what books of today will be appreciated tomorrow?”
Before Sonia could respond, the doors to the antechamber opened. It was the maid.
“Professor Ulrich will see you now,” the maid said. “Only the senior members please. He has no time to waste with subordinates today.”
Mr. Dillon turned to Claire and leaned in close. He spoke in a whisper.
“Ms. Currie, I want you to seduce Mr. Ortez and engage in messy filthy sex. In other words, just indulge your usual appetites.”
Claire blinked. “Mr. Dillon? I think I misheard you.”
“Ms. Currie,” he said testily. “I don’t care how you do it, but you will get this man to engage in carnal activities. The honor of the Collection is at stake!”
“Behave yourself while I am gone, Manuel,” Sonia said. “This won’t take long to convince Professor Ulrich to hand over the Breastinomicon to the Vargas Foundation.”
“Only if he is suffering from a brain tumor,” Mr. Dillon said.
“This way,” the maid said.
Claire watched as Mr. Dillon and Ms. Garcia left the room. The doors closed and Claire was alone with Manuel. The young man smiled and held out his hand.
“I apologize for Senora Garcia’s behavior,” he said. “She has a long standing grudge with Senor Dillon. I have been hearing about it all morning.”
“That is very kind of you,” Claire said. She shook his hand. “I don’t know about you, but I am extremely hot.”
Before he could respond, Claire unbuttoned the top two buttons of her blouse. Realizing that she was wearing the bust crushing black bra, she undid a few more buttons.
“Senora Currie,” Manuel said. “You may not be aware that I can see your la pecha.”
“I don’t know what that means, but I am okay with that,” Claire responded. “We are all erotica librarians, aren’t we? I am sure that we have both seen far more explicit things than my bra?”
Manuel nodded. “Yes. Senora Garcia makes me look at erotica all day long and then masturbate once a morning to clear my mind.”
“Oh, that sounds interesting,” Claire said as she pulled her shirt off. “Tell me, do you and Ms. Garcia fuck? Mr. Dillon fucks me all the time because he feels it is necessary to ease any erotic pressure we may build during the day.”
Manuel swallowed hard. “Senora Garcia has me service her quite often, with my mouth and my fingers. She refuses to aid my climax however as she says that it would not be professional.”
“Aww, that is too bad,” Claire said. “Excuse me one moment, this bra is just too confining.”
Claire reached behind her and unfastened the bra. She let out a sigh of relief that was did not involve any acting on her part. The bra fell away and Claire lifted her heavy breasts and gave them a good squeeze.
“That is much better,” Claire said. “I really like to let them breathe, you know?”
Manuel stared at her breasts. They seemed to have the same calming effect on Manuel that they did on Mr. Dillon.
“I noticed that Ms. Garcia has very impressive breasts,” Claire said. “Does she let you touch them?”
“No,” Manuel said.
“Would you like to touch mine?” Claire said.
Manuel looked to the doors of the antechamber. Claire walked closer to him and grabbed his hand. Before he could come up with an excuse not to, she placed his hand on her right tit.
“Madre dios,” he whispered. His fingers were ever so gentle as he squeezed.
“Do they feel nice?” Claire asked.
“Si,” Manuel said. His eyes were dreamy as he touched her tit.
“Well, they taste even better,” she said.
Manuel looked at her and Claire took the lead again. She gently pulled his head to her breast. His mouth knew what to do. He carefully took her nipples between his lips and sucked as gently as a new lover.
Images of Mr. Dillon’s dirty story filled Claire’s mind. She imagined them in a hotel hallway and Manuel was some random passerby. She was already wet from the indecency of their act in someone else’s home but now she was rubbing her thighs together with need.
“It isn’t easy being an assistant to a demanding boss, is it, Manuel?” Claire asked.
Manuel said no but it was hard to hear because he wasn’t letting her nipple out of his mouth.
“At least Mr. Dillon fucks me,” Claire said. “I can not imagine how difficult it must be for you to catalog and purchase erotica all day and then only have the comfort of your hand. You poor, poor, man.”
Manuel made a sound of acknowledgement from her cleavage.
“I want to do something for you, Manuel,” Claire said. “As a fellow librarian you understand? I want to give you your sexual fantasy. Tell me what you want and I will do it right here.”
“Right now?” Manuel said. He stood up and fear was clear on his face. “What if the others return?”
“Really, Manuel?” Claire said. “You really think my boss and your boss can finish insulting each other in less than an hour, much less conduct any business?”
Manuel smiled. He was adorably cute.
“Get on this table,” he said. “On your back with your head off the table. I want to fuck your mouth.”
“I like this,” Claire said and it was true. She was soaked between her legs. So often she had been used for Mr. Dillon’s pleasure, it was nice to be used for the pleasure of another assistant like herself.
She hopped on the table and spun around. Claire leaned back and her shoulders rested on the edge of the table. Her head went further until she was looking at Manuel upside down.
Manuel already had his cock out. He had strange bright yellow boxers and Claire wondered if he too had a dress code. Thoughts of his clothes vanished as she saw the thick girth of his cock. He was hard and ready to plunge into her mouth.
Claire opened her lips just in time as his cock aimed for her mouth. He came in too fast and too eager but Claire took him all the same. She recognized his need and she wanted to help him. Her mouth closed around his cock and her cheeks collapsed as she sucked.
Manuel babbled a string of Spanish words that Claire didn’t understand. She kept sucking.
She felt his hands on her tits. He had one in each hand and his fingers squeezed her soft flesh. He tried to get as much of her breasts as possible into his hands and although he would never succeed, Claire was enjoying the trying.
Claire reached with her hands and pulled his ass to her. She was impressed by how fit his ass was and she only wished that she was grabbing it while he fucked her. Oh well. This was his fantasy and Claire and her mouth was happy to oblige. She pulled him deeper down her throat until his balls were pressed against her face.
Manuel pinched her nipples and Claire moaned. After all his gentle care, she was unprepared when he twisted her nipples. Beautiful pain rippled through each breast, traveled her body and collided between her thighs. She spread her legs in need as he pinched harder.
“Oh, how I wish I could do this to Senora Garcia,” Manuel said.
Claire moaned at the thought. It didn’t bother her that she was a proxy for his wicked boss. If anything, she was happy to help.
She let go of his ass and reached for her skirt. Nimble fingers pulled her skirt up and pulled her thong to the side. Claire plunged her fingers into her sex as Manuel took advantage of her mouth and breasts.
Claire’s sex was drenched with desire. Her fingers glided in and stroked furiously. Perhaps Mr. Dillon was right; maybe she did have a hungry cunt.
Manuel pulled his cock from her mouth. Claire groaned with frustration. Was he regretting what he was doing? Before she could ask, he lifted his balls and dropped them on Claire’s mouth. She took his balls and sucked on them as he stroked his cock.
“Si, si, si,” Manuel moaned as she stroked faster.
Claire stroked herself in time with his hand. His balls tasted of sweat but she sucked and licked with all of her talent. She had the entirety of his balls between her lips and she was using the utmost care with the treasures that he entrusted her with.
Meanwhile, Mr. Dillon was half listening to Ms. Garcia’s pitch to Professor Ulrich. He supposed that he should be paying more attention to what she was saying just so that the Collection could learn the latest about the Vargas Foundation but quite frankly, he was too mesmerized by how far gone Professor Ulrich had become.
The three of them were sitting in his office except that Professor Ulrich was seated behind a glass wall. The elderly professor was breathing from an oxygen mask even though Mr. Dillon was sure that Ulrich was in excellent health. Mr. Dillon was also sure that the professor did not need to wear the latex gloves as he sat at his desk nor did the professor need to check his temperature every two minutes.
Professor Ulrich was obviously stark raving mad. Mr. Dillon found comfort in that. It would explain how the old fart could possibly find fault with Mr. Dillon in the past. It also made Professor Ulrich far easier to manipulate.
“If I may interrupt my inferior colleague for a moment,” Mr. Dillon said. “I really don’t think the elaborate procedures that the Vargas Foundation implements are all that important.”
Ms. Garcia frowned. The beautiful woman was obviously not used to being interrupted.
“You may not find our methods interesting,” Ms. Garcia said. “But I am sure that Professor Ulrich will want to know that his Breastinomicon is going to a state of the art home.”
“It does sound very impressive,” Professor Ulrich said with the thermometer still in his mouth.
“Well, sure,” Mr. Dillon said. “Technology is wonderful but it is only good as the people who apply the technology and I am sure, Professor, that you will agree that if one is lax in their vigilance, all sorts of bad things could happen. A book could get wet, rot and develop all sorts of germs.”
Professor Ulrich gasped in terror.
“This is ridiculous,” Ms. Garcia said. “If you are trying to insinuate that a single member of the Vargas Foundation has less than perfect behavior, then you are simply delusional.”
“So I assume that you instructed your Mr. Ortez to be on his best professional manners for this trip?” Mr. Dillon asked.
Ms. Garcia tilted her head up at a defiant angle. “Of course.”
“Professor Ulrich, if you will turn on your hidden camera for antechamber, you will see that my assistant, whom is acting on my instructions, will be performing a deviant act with Mr. Ortez.”
“Uh, what makes you think I have a hidden camera?” Professor Ulrich.
“Professor, I clearly remember on my third visit here that you berated me for biting a fingernail. Considering that I only did that in the antechamber, I can only assume that you have a camera.”
“Hrm,” Professor Ulrich said. He pressed a button on his desk and one of the paintings slid away to reveal a video screen.
Ms. Garcia gasped at the sight that appeared. Ms. Currie was on the table, her blouse missing and her breasts exposed for Mr. Ortez’s groping. Even more shocking was Mr. Ortez’s balls were sitting inside Ms. Currie’s mouth as he stroked himself furiously.
The thermometer dropped from Professor Ulrich’s mouth.
“Now, shall we discuss how much I should write the check for?” Mr. Dillon asked.
Back in the antechamber, Claire was stroking passionately between her legs. She couldn’t see anything except Manuel’s ass as she licked his balls. Claire didn’t need to see anything. She could hear his moans and feel the fury of his hand pumping his cock. She had become his ultimate fantasy and Claire relished her role.
Even more importantly, she was doing exactly what Mr. Dillon has asked of her. She didn’t know what his plan was but she had trust in him. Somehow this would make getting the Breastinomicon and that was vital for the library. Most of all, it was important to Mr. Dillon and she could only imagine the gratitude he might show her.
Hell, he might even say something nice.
The thought of his praise enflamed her sex. She planted her heels on the table and lifted her pelvis as she stroked faster. Her tongue licked, licked and licked Manuel’s smooth balls.
Claire’s climax sent tremors from her sex, up her stomach, across her sensitive nipples and out through her moaning lips around Manuel’s balls.
Manuel came. He shook as he erupted. Claire felt a stream of seed land across her chest, followed by a second stream and then a third. The rest of the seed slid down his cock and onto her waiting lips.
The doors flew open. “Manuel!” Ms. Garcia yelled. What she said next was just a long tirade of Spanish but it was certainly angry.
Manuel popped his balls out of Claire’s mouth and responded in Spanish. Instead of meek servitude, there was quite a bit of hostility in Manuel’s response. Claire wasn’t sure if the poor man was finally venting his frustrations or if Spanish was just an angry sounding language.
Mr. Dillon came into the room. He was carrying a briefcase that appeared to have some sort of temperature gauge.
“Come along, Ms. Currie,” he said. “We need to get back to the hotel and prepare the Breastinomicon for shipping.”
Claire grabbed her shirt and bra. She followed Mr. Dillon out of the room while Ms. Garcia and Mr. Ortez continued to yell at each other. Outside the room, the maid waited with a bucket of cleaning alcohol and a UV light.
Mr. Dillon paused in the hallway for Claire to put her blouse back on before they stepped outside. Claire’s dark body was marked with drying white seed. Claire was still feeling giddy from the orgasm so she asked an improper question.
“Did I do a good job, sir?” she asked.
Mr. Dillon thought about it. “You did . . . well.”
Claire nearly came a third time that day.