Clarence Tydings - The unfaithful girlfriend

Phillip hesitated… not from disinterest, but disbelief. Valerie Dodge requesting him to enter her office! "Of course! I mean… yes, certainly." He tried to conceal his surprise and excitement, leaving the roomful of whispering girls to guess his true identity, to determine among themselves if he was, yes indeed, Phillip Wright, world-famous movie producer, or Phillip Wright, noted actor, or…

"Have a seat, Phillip," offered Valerie Dodge when they'd both entered her private office suite and she had closed the heavy door behind them. Phillip waited graciously until his hostess had seated herself behind the single inch-thick glass pane that served her as a desk. He sank comfortably into a thickly padded leather armchair that seemed to envelop him in a womb of softness and aromatic cowhide.

"I suppose you're wondering why I wanted to see you?"

He nodded, "That's for sure. I usually have to try a dozen times just to see one of the paid flunkies. It comes as a bit of a shock to be personally invited into a place like this." He made a sweep of his hand, indicating the expansive layout of the older woman's office and separate sitting-room all furnished with the hand-picked choicest of the Manhattan decorators' offering, the walls adorned with stills and promotional posters from some of her earlier television and motion picture successes.

"Don't let it threaten you," she laughed, a real smile on her lips now for the first time since she'd first spoken. It was truly becoming on her, adding an even greater depth to the already-fathomless beauty and glamour this woman possessed. "It's my real home. This is where I really live," she confessed. "The apartment is just for changing clothes and entertaining. I feel much more at ease here than anywhere else."

"Uh, yes… it is really nice. And I see you have gardens outside, too," Phillip said somewhat nervously, grasping awkwardly for something meaningful to say, but not really succeeding.

"Yes, it's another little private hideaway of mine. I guess I am somewhat of a nut about privacy, but those years in front of the camera had to have some effect on me, I suppose." She stopped talking, staring straight at her handsome young visitor as if waiting for him to speak, but the growing lump in his throat blocked whatever words he might have managed. "Oh, how thoughtless of me," she suddenly gushed, "let me fix you a drink. You must be absolutely dying of thirst after sitting out there in that office so long." She jumped up from her swivel chair and hurriedly crossed the room. Phillip was suddenly reminded of a television show from his early youth, and the graceful entrances another famous star made at the opening of each show, her gowns always trailing regally as she swept into the room and onto the screens of those pioneering days of television.

"What will it be? Scotch okay?"

"Sure, that's fine," he answered. And for the moment, he couldn't for the life of him remember if he drank Scotch or not.

Valerie vanished through the open doorway into the adjoining suite; from across the second room Phill

ip heard the tinkling of glasses and the bubbling of fine liquor being poured.

"You take water, Phillip?" came the shouted voice. He replied negatively, reasoning, quite prophetically, it turned out, that he could use a stiff drink about right now. For a few moments, there was no sound at all, then the soft closing of a door, perhaps a cupboard or closet, a rustle of something he couldn't put his finger on, then the sound of softly padding steps as Valerie Dodge, adored and coveted by countless thousands of dissatisfied married men, returned to her young visitor. Only the statuesque redhead did not actually return; Phillip sensed, rather than saw, her standing in the doorway… he looked up.

"Mrs. Dodge!" he gasped, bolting to his feet and jarring the cocktail table before him so hard that it tumbled onto the carpet, dumping an empty ashtray and a few magazines onto the floor.

"Like my outfit, love?" she purred, holding her arms away from her body, a drink in each hand. She was wearing a light, baby-blue gown that could have been made of Saran-wrap, and it was more man obvious she had removed her bra and panties while out of the room fixing the drinks. Her shoes were still on, along with her white garter belt and dark stockings. His eyes instantly locked on the deep, inviting cleft between her enormous, bulging breasts. Her nipples, crinkly and brownish, poked against the sheer line of gauze-like fabric that offered no more concealment than a sheet of clear glass, little peaks of tingling flesh already aroused and hardened as he looked upon them.

Phillip glanced nervously around, checking the door instinctively.

"Oh, you needn't worry about anyone coming in. My penchant for privacy is a legend around here. Nobody would dare enter this office without calling first… and besides," she added with a twinkling grin, "it locks automatically when you shut it."

"Jesus, you're beautiful!" Phillip said, without a trace of nervousness or awkwardness now. Somehow it all seemed right… her being there nearly naked, his being alone with her. It was as if at that very instant in time, something snapped within him, some little switch somewhere deep in his brain suddenly closed. And he was suddenly feeling the beginning of a glowing power and self-confidence he'd never even hoped for before. Even at that moment, he knew what was expected of him, knew that making love to this fantastically desirable woman was going to change him and that perhaps nothing less than a real woman like this would ever satisfy him again.

Valerie lowered her eyes for a moment to the bulge in his trousers; his cock was out of position in his shorts, and that made the obvious swelling even more apparent. His erection stood out like a tree limb, so tight against the fabric of his pants that he was afraid it might just rip through and come bursting out like an animal's penis might when confronted with a female so obviously in heat and eager for excitement. She grinned at the sight of it. "You seem to like me, lover," she said softly, a glistening sparkle in her eyes. "It's pretty obvious."

"That's pretty observant of you," he laughed, even surer of himself now. "Not everyone would have noticed."

"How could I help it, darling. Now it's getting even more obvious…" She paused dramatically and stared for a full beat at the still growing bulge in his crotch. "… You're quite a big man."

"C'mon… the weather's nicer in here, stud," she said seductively.

Phillip followed her without an instant's hesitation, feeling more and more confident of his masculinity with every step toward this voluptuous woman's lair. She was well ahead of him, and when he entered the inner room, she was already sitting on the edge of her bed. And what a bed! It was round, at least seven feet across, and covered with a blaze-red silk cover with the name Valerie spelled out in huge script letters that ran from one side to the other. He glanced down at the thin hair-lined lips of her vagina clearly visible now between her slightly parted legs. He didn't blush at the sight of her womanly treasures like he might have in the past; her pleased smile was invitation enough, but she opened her legs a bit more, a teasing grin on her lips as he caught a glimpse of the faintest dewdrop of her own excitement just beginning to glisten on the soft pink furrows of her narrow cuntal slit. She handed him his drink and it seemed to go down in one swallow, warming his body along its path, adding to the growing intense heat he was already feeling for this beautiful woman far down in his loins.

He stood over her silently, reverently, like a pilgrim come to do homage to a saint, as she loosed the clasp that held the robe together just above the swelling mounds of her luscious breasts. She pulled the two halves of the flimsy garment apart, exposing the large full mounds, the ripe dark nipples staring at him wetly. She had moistened them with saliva from her tongue before he entered, adding magically to the already maddening allure of this gorgeous female.