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o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
o The 'Bookshelf collection' offers a very wide variety of o
o stories. They have been submitted by people from all over the o
o world. Also from alt.sex.stories (Newsgroups). There is no o
o particular order other than offering them to you in alpha- o
o betical directories. o
o I don’t believe in categorizing things. "I don’t want to o
o be typed therefore I don’t type things myself." I think it’s o
o a lot more fun to browse around and find 'little' surprises o
o that you might not have even thought of looking for. o
o Lest we forget!!! This story was produced as adult en- o
o tertainment and should not be read by minors. Kristen o
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
Jonathan's Introduction to Business (MF, work, cd)
by Anonymous (c) 1995
*
Jonathan landed at LaGuardia Airport with two suitcases and a duffle bag.
It was 4:30 PM on a sweltering July Friday, and he had to bulldoze his way
through the crowd rushing to get out of town for the weekend. When he reached
the taxi stand the line was long and their were few taxis in sight. Having
been warned by his aunt he ignored the "limo" drivers offering to take him
anywhere he wanted. He decided to share a cab since the line was shorter and
appeared to move much more quickly. When the dispatcher asked for passengers
going to the Upper West Side Jonathan stepped forward, bypassing about ten
people in line. He found himself standing next to a stunning woman wearing a
short black silk dress. She was tall with auburn hair that flowed softly over
her shoulders. Her eyes were hidden by oversized sun glasses.
The dispatcher led them to the next cab and helped the woman with her
luggage as Jonathan threw his bags into the trunk. He entered the cab from the
street side. When the other door opened Jonathan's eyes were drawn to the
woman's long shapely legs. As she slid into the seat next to him her dress
rode up above the tops of her black stockings. Her firm well tanned thighs
were framed by the thin black straps of a garter belt. The cab was well
air-conditioned and the woman sighed as she settled into her seat tugging her
hem into position.
Removing her sun glasses she opened her Mark Cross briefcase, took out her
leather planner, and began to leaf through the pages. After a few minutes she
began to make notes. Jon couldn't help but stare at her classic profile, green
eyes and perfect tan. Her lipstick exactly matched the rich red lacquer of her
fountain pen, which she rested on her lip, apparently lost in concentration.
She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. After a few minutes she
returned the planner and pen to her briefcase and looked up.
She looked over to Jonathan and quickly examined him, scanning from head to
foot. It was obvious her alert gaze missed nothing. Taking in his khaki
pants, green La Coste shirt, Sperry Docksiders, and lost expression she
smiled. " Welcome to New York, is this your first trip?" she asked. "Yes," he
answered, " I'm hoping to find a job here." "A new graduate?" she inquired.
"Yes, Dartmouth, Art History." "You look like an athlete, were you involved in
any sports at school?" she probed. "I ran the 400 meters in track". "Any
good?" she challenged. "Our 1600 meter relay team set the Ivy record. I
anchored." "Hmmmm, you are an athlete."
Reaching across she offered her hand, "Joan Simmons". "Jonathan Richards,
I'm glad to meet you," he answered as he took her slender hand. "What kind of
work are you looking for Jonathan?" she asked. "I'm hoping to get involved in
gallery management or perhaps work for one of the auction houses," he
responded. "That sounds like an unusual career for an athlete, what made you
interested in art?" she continued. "Well, my aunt works for Sotheby's. She
got me interested in art and the art business." "I do some business with
Sotheby's on occasion, what's your aunt's name?" "Lisa Scott, she concentrates
on Oriental Art - wood blocks prints and the like." "I'm afraid I don't know
her." "She is in Tokyo for the next six months working with a Japanese
dealer. She's letting me use her apartment while she's away." "How lucky you
are, finding an apartment can be the most difficult part of living in New
York."
They talked about art as the cab traveled through Queens and over the
Triborough Bridge into Manhattan. She told him that she was particularly
interested in photography. As they turned west on 96th Street the driver
asked for their destinations. "312 West 73rd," they both answered at
once. "My that is a coincidence," she said "we'll be living in the same
building". She stared at Jonathan with renewed interest. They continued
their conversation about art as the cab drove across town. Before they
knew it the cab had pulled up at the building. "I'll make a deal with
you. I'll put this on my expense account if you'll carry up my bags?" she
offered. "Sure," he answered. She paid the fare then said, "I'm in the
Penthouse". With that she headed into the building.
Jonathan waited at the curb, perspiring in the heat, as the driver
took out his two suitcases and duffle bag. These were followed by her
four large pieces. The building was a five story townhouse that had been
converted to apartments. Fumbling through his pockets he found the keys
his aunt had sent him, and opened the front door. Propping the door open
with his duffle bag he brought his bags into the hallway and then went
back for the rest. It took him two trips, since hers were not only large,
but one was extremely heavy. Grabbing his duffle he stepped into the
building as the door closed behind him. Dragging the bags behind him he
shuffled to the small elevator and pressed the call button. When it
arrived he pushed all of the bags inside.
His aunt lived on the third floor, so he decided to drop off his bags
before delivering hers. When the elevator arrived at the third floor he
propped the door open with the largest of her suitcases and found himself
facing his aunt's apartment, 3-A. He fumbled with the keys, first finding
the Medeco key for the deadbolt, then opening the slam lock. Inside the
apartment was sweltering. The windows were closed and his aunt had been
gone for almost a month. He walked into a short hallway with the bathroom
on the right and passed the kitchen and dining area on the left. The
living room was very large with a brick fireplace and a large bay window.
He walked over to the window. In the semicircular area of the bay he had
a clear view of Riverside Park and across the North River to New Jersey.
Reaching down he turned the air-conditioner on high.
Exploring the apartment he found two bedrooms, the larger obviously
used by his aunt had a queen size bed, a dresser, and a large built in
closet. A small window faced onto 73rd Street. Stepping back through the
living room he went to the other bedroom which his aunt obviously used as
an office. Against the front wall was a large desk with a comfortable
executive chair. On a table next to the desk there was a personal
computer and laser printer. One wall was covered with bookshelves. The
other wall had a window facing onto an alley, with a colletion of
photographs hung on either side. He saw a picture of himself in his track
uniform. It was a print of a picture taken by a NY Times photographer
when his relay team had set the Ivy League record at the Penn Relays. He
began to think back to that day. The large cheering crowd at Franklin
Field, ... over 40,000 people ..., he began to daydream.
Hearing a sound beside him he saw Joan standing in the doorway
glaring at him. "So here you are! I thought we had an agreement? You
were supposed to bring up my bags. You've kept me waiting for almost half
an hour! Even worse you've tied up the only elevator in the building.
Didn't you hear the buzzing? I came down and found my bags sitting on the
elevator with the door propped open and you daydreaming. Don't you know
this is New York? How could you leave my things unguarded like that?
What's the matter with you? You even left your aunt's door unlocked!
Haven't you ever heard of crime?" "Gee, I'm sorry. I guess I lost track
of time. I saw my picture there and couldn't help remembering," Jon
answered.
"Dreaming of past glory? That is no excuse. If you can't pay
attention to what your doing you'll never make it in this town. Now hurry
and bring up my bags, and don't dawdle," she commanded as she turned on
her heel and strode out of the room. He could hear her heels as she
walked to the elevator. Following her out, he turned to lock the door,
then stepped into the elevator with her. She stared straight ahead
ignoring him. When the elevator opened on the fourth floor she stepped
out and opened the door with a small electronic key device, about the size
of a lighter. As she strode into her apartment he dragged her suitcases
out of the elevator into the small hallway. Grabbing two of the bags he
followed her into the apartment and dropped them in her foyer. He then
turned back for the other bags. Depositing them with the others he turned
to leave but was stopped by her command, "Where do you think you're
going?"
"Here are your bags," he answered.
"So your going to just dump them on my doorstep? What impertinence.
First, you keep me waiting, then you just throw them in here. You have a
few things to learn young man. We had a deal. I lived up to my part of
the bargain now I expect you to live up to yours. Bring those bags
upstairs."
"OK."
Grabbing two of the bags he followed her up the interior staircase to
the second floor of her duplex penthouse. At the top of the stairs was a
small bedroom. He followed her past a short arched alcove that led to a
closed door, then into her vast bedroom. Adjoining it was a luxurious
bathroom done in white marble.
"Put that suitcase on the bed and hang the garment bag in the
closet," she ordered. Following her orders he fumbled with the garment
bag. Undoing the snaps he opened it and searched for the hook. It was in
a zippered pouch near the top of the bag. He hooked it to the ring on top
of the bag, stepped into the walk-in closet, and hung it on the rod. As
he looked around he couldn't help noticing her clothes. Their were dozens
of designer dresses, along with silk blouses, skirts, slacks, and numerous
sweaters. But what really caught his eye was the back wall of the
closet. It was covered with leather outfits in a variety of colors,
although most were either black or red.
"Hurry up and get the other bags," she ordered.
"OK."
He turned and hurried downstairs. As he picked up the last two
suitcases he noticed that one was different from the others. It was very
large and very heavy, a small steamer trunk covered in black leather. The
other suitcases were a matched set of Hartman luggage. He strained as he
carried the last two bags up the narrow stairs. At the top he was met and
told to put the leather trunk in a recess of the alcove. He then followed
her back to her bedroom with the last suitcase.
"Put that one on the bed," she commanded. "I think we need to have a
little talk. Why don't you go downstairs and wait for me while I change.
There is some cold Chardonnay in the refrigerator. Open it and pour
yourself a glass. Then wait for me."
"Alright," he answered as he turned to leave the room. In the corner
of his eye he could see her mirror and saw her begin to lift her dress
over his head as he headed downstairs. At the bottom of the stairs
he turned into her living room. The large space was painted a bright
white. A vivid abstract rug covered the oak floor. A white marble
fireplace and a bay window were the room's most notable features. After a
quick glance around he headed for the kitchen. It was through the large
dining room which apparently replaced the dining area and second bedroom
in his aunt's apartment below.
The kitchen was very large, for a Manhattan apartment, and very
modern. The counters had all the latest gadgets. Opening the
refrigerator he found it fully stocked with fresh fruit and vegetables, a
supply of cheeses and cold drinks. Laying on the second shelf he found a
bottle of 1987 Kendall-Jackson Vintners Reserve Chardonnay. He took it
and began searching through the cabinets. In the center cabinet he found
a selection of wine glasses. Below it, in a drawer, was a corkscrew.
Opening the bottle he poured himself a glass and returned to the living
room. Upstairs he could hear the shower running.
The air conditioning was running full blast and the apartment was
very cool, at least in the living room. He sat on the large black leather
couch facing the fireplace. Putting his glass on the white marble coffee
table in front of him, he examined the room. Above the fireplace was a
large abstract painting with bold geometric shapes in black, white, and
red. On either side of the fireplace were black and white photographic
prints of different men in leather outfits, bound with chains. She had
said she liked some of the more avant-garde current photographers, so he
didn't think too much about them. As he drank his wine he couldn't help
but look at them. Something about the photos intrigued him, but the also
made him nervous. One of the men appeared to be in great pain, but it was
also an expression of near ecstasy.
After a time he heard footsteps on the staircase and saw her bare
feet descend the stairs. He turned to stand as she entered the room. She
was wearing a white silk kimono with a wide black sash belted around her
waist. The lapels of the kimono crossed at her chest and the shape of her
firm, full breasts was apparent. She was not wearing a bra so her
nipples and the shadow of her aureole was just discernible through the
thin silk. "Get me a glass of wine," she commanded. Her long raven hair
was still wet and was combed straight.
He stood and went to the kitchen. When he returned she was sitting
on one of the leather Eames chairs with her feet tucked beneath her.
Offering her the glass of wine he waited for her to take it. She looked
into his eyes as she took the glass, tasted it, and set it on the table
next to her. "Why don't you sit down," she suggested. He sat on the
couch and faced her, waiting for her to speak.
"You seem like an attractive and intelligent young man," she began,
"but, you obviously have a lot to learn. New York is not a sheltered
campus in New Hampshire. If you expect to live and work here you have to
learn to think, and to fulfill your agreements - without daydreaming.
Now, what did you think you were doing?" she asked.
"I don't know. I guess I saw the picture and remembered the day it
was taken. I must have lost track of the time," he answered.
"That is no excuse. Did you realize that while you were daydreaming
someone could have been stealing my things? Did you know there are some
older people in this building. You tied up the only elevator for nearly
half an hour. Don't you have any sense of responsibility to others? What
are they teaching at Dartmouth these days?" she demanded.
"I'm sorry. I'll be more careful next time," he apologized.
"I should hope so," she countered. Taking another sip of wine she
looked at him thoughtfully for a minute. "Do you know anyone here in New
York?" she queried.
"No. Only my aunt, but she will be away until next January. A few
of my friends from school will be coming in September. I wanted to get a
jump on the job hunt," he answered.
"But you don't know anyone here at the moment? At least not until
September?" she probed.
"No one," he affirmed.
"Did you have any plans tonight ... or this weekend?" she inquired.
"No, I just thought that I'd get to know the city a little. You know
walk around, see the sights."
"Why don't you join mr for dinner tonight? We'll go out and
celebrate your arrival in New York. How does that sound?" she asked.
"Gee, thank you, I'd love it," he answered.
"Fine. Why don't you go and get settled in. Come back here at eight
o'clock ... sharp," she said, dismissing him.
He nodded, got up and went to the door. When she did not follow he
let himself out. The door closed behind him automatically. He heard the
lock click shut electronically. Back in his aunt's apartment he had a
chance to look around. On the kitchen table he saw a note.
"Dear Jonathan," it read, "Welcome to New York. I hope you had a
nice flight. The super is forwarding my mail for me. The phone is
working, but please just let the answering machine pick up. Wait to see
if its for you before you answer. I've emptied the two top left drawers
in my dresser for you, and you can use the left side of the closet. The
sheets on the bed are clean, and you'll find towels in the linen closet.
I'm sure you are looking forward to being a young bachelor in New York.
Feel free to have any friends over if you like dear. Anyway I have to
run. Good luck. I'll call in a few weeks to see how you are doing.
Love, Aunt Lisa."
Taking his suitcases into the bedroom he began to unpack. It only
took a few minutes. He hung his two suits in the closet, but they clearly
needed to be pressed. When he finished he looked at his watch and
realized he only had thirty minutes. He didn't want to be late. Tearing
off his clothes and grabbing his shaving kit he headed into the bathroom.
Hurriedly, he shaved and brushed his teeth. He turned on the shower to
let the water heat up. After adjusting the temperature he stepped into
the shower, quickly lathered, and rinsed off. Grabbing a towel from the
closet he hurriedly wiped himself dry. Returning to the bedroom he pulled
on a pair of jockey shorts and a clean pair of chinos. He looked through
his drawer and selected a blue Oxford shirt. Slipping his feet into his
moccasins he checked his watch. It was 7:57 P.M. Brushing his hair back
with his fingers he headed out the door, locking it behind him. Taking
the stairs two at a time he was knocking at the door at exactly 8:00 P.M.
He stood waiting for a minute, then the door opened electronically.
"Come in and have a seat. I'll just be a second," he heard her voice from
the intercom speaker. As he stepped into the apartment the door closed
behind him. Walking into the apartment he sat on the couch to wait.
After a few minutes he heard her walking down the stairs. She was wearing
a short, simple but very elegant, black silk dress with a deep v neck that
demonstrated her ample decolletage. On her feet she wore black patent
leather pumps with three inch high heels over black silk stockings. A
dazzling emerald and diamond necklace set in white gold with matching
bracelets and earrings completed her outfit.
"Hello again," she began, then seeing his outfit said, "No. That
just won't do. We are going out to celebrate tonight, and that outfit
just will not do. Don't you have a suit?" she inquired.
"Yes, but they are pretty crushed," he responded.
"Let me see them," she ordered.
Jonathan hurried downstairs and returned with both of his suits on
hangers. Taking the hangers from him she began to examine his suits.
Holding up the blue one she said, " Try this one on." "Where should I
change," he asked. "You can change in here," she answered leading him up
the stairs into the small bedroom, flipping the light switch as they
entered. Jonathan was struck by the strong scent of a floral perfume.
The room was decorated with a very feminine pink print wallpaper. It had
a double bed with a full canopy trimmed with white lace. The bed was
covered with a pink and white coverlet with matching lace trimmed
pillows. Sitting in the large Victorian armchair she asked, "What are you
waiting for?" "Aren't you going to wait outside," he pleaded. " Don't be
silly. We are in a hurry, we have a reservation to keep," she countered.
Blushing, he slipped off his shoes and unzipped his pants. Then
bowing to the inevitable he slid them down his legs. He folded his slacks
and laid them neatly on the bed. Picking up the suit he took the trousers
and slipped them on. Then stepping into his shoes he pulled on the jacket
and turned to face her. After examining him carefully for a minute she
reached her decision. "You look like a slob. Take that suit off and wait
here for me," she concluded as she left the room. Removing the suit he
stood waiting for her in his briefs and shirt.
After a few minutes she returned carrying several hangers. "This
Tuxedo should fit you," she said hanging it on a hook on the closet door.
"Take off that shirt and put this one on," she ordered. Removing his
shirt he stood facing her in just his jockey shorts. He took the dress
shirt which was white with ruffled sleeves and lace trimming. As he tried
to slip it on he realized that it buttoned in the back.
Turning to confront her he said accusingly, " But this is a woman's
shirt." "Yes, of course it is. Did you think I'd have a man's Tuxedo?"
she rejoined. "If you are going to be in the art world your going to have
to give up some of your bourgeois notions. I had thought that we could go
out and celebrate in style tonight. Perhaps this whole thing is a bad
idea? If you won't let me help you, if you won't trust me, then maybe you
should just leave?" she challenged.
" I didn't mean that. Its just I was surprised, you know?" he
answered.
"No, I don't know," she countered "will you do as I say form now on?
Not question every little thing I do? If you can't agree to that I want
you to get out now and not waste my time."
"I'll do as you ask. I do want to stay," he pleaded.
"All right, you can stay. Now hurry and get dressed," she directed.
He to put his arms into the blouse then turned asking, "could you
button me up please?" Stepping behind him Joan pulled the thin material
together and began to button it. "That's better. Actually, this fits you
pretty well. The ruffled sleeves give room for your arms and shoulders.
It is tight in the waist though," she observed. "We may have to put you on
a diet."
When he turned to put on the pants she stopped him and went to the
dresser. "I don't have any dress socks so these will have to do," she
said handing him a pair of black silk stockings. He paled as he took
them, then sat on the end of the bed in resignation. Slowly he began to
pull one up his right leg. He was surprised at how soft and sensuous it
felt against his skin. As he stretched the other stocking over his left
leg he began to get stimulated. Noting his response she observed
pointedly, "Now that isn't too painful is it? Why don't you stand up so
that I can check the fit?"
Slowly he complied, and stood facing her chair. Softly she stroked
her hands up his calves and thighs stretching the flimsy material taught.
He couldn't contain his arousal any longer, his manhood thrust visibly in
his briefs. Ignoring his dilemma she looked at him and said, " All that
body hair is very unsanitary, we'll have to do something about it. Those
stockings will be very uncomfortable without something to hold them up."
Returning to the dresser she removed a pink satin garterbelt and handed it
to him. "Do you know how to put this on?" she asked.
"No," he answered.
"I will only show you once," she told him. Pushing him in front of
the mirror on the closet door she pulled the belt around his waist and
showed him how to operate the clasp in front, then rotate it to the back.
She then demonstrated how to line up the garters and slip one of the
grippers over the stocking top. "You do the rest," she instructed. When
he finished he looked up and saw himself standing in a frilly blouse
wearing black stockings and a pink garter belt. His jockey shorts looked
strangely out of place.
"Now hurry up and finish dressing," she ordered.
Turning back to the bed he picked up the trousers and began to step
into them. Then he noticed that there were no pockets and the zipper was
supposed to go in the back. Turning them around he began to slip them
on. He noticed that they were of a very light weight wool material but
were fully lined. Tucking the blouse into the pants he pulled them over
his hips. Reaching behind he clumsily tried to pull up the zipper.
Afraid that he would rip them, she stepped behind him to pull the zipper
closed. The pants were very tight, and, because they were cut for a
woman, they squeezed his buttocks and painfully crushed his genitals. He
groaned as she buttoned the waist. The trousers fit like a second skin.
She then handed him the scarlet cummerbund which he quickly fastened
around his waist. "Can you tie a bowtie?" she asked. When he answered
negatively she stepped behind him and tied the matching bow tie around his
neck. Returning to her chair she told him to put on the jacket so she
could see how he looked. "Stand up straight," she ordered. "Actually,
you look quite handsome," she concluded, "but, there is one final touch.
Put these on, " she commanded. He took the shoes she handed him and
examined them. They were black patent leather formal pumps, but they had
two and one-half inch heels. Slipping them on his feet they were long
enough but because they were narrow and pointed they were quite painful.
"Perfect!" she announced, "Now go look at yourself in the mirror."
Findidng it difficult to balance on the high heels he shuffled over
to the mirror to examine his appearance. Actually, he looked quite good.
Without looking very closely it was difficult to tell that anything was
amiss. The Tuxedo did have a rather flamboyant cut, and the shirt was a
little too frilly, but all in all it was passable. Even the high heels of
his pumps were hidden by the pronounced break in the pants. "Hey this
isn't too bad," he concluded.
"I told you, you'll have to trust me," she rejoined. "Now, lets go,
I have a car waiting downstairs. You'd better take my arm," she
suggested. Balancing himself with her help they headed downstairs. She
took a small black purse as they left the apartment. While he summoned
the elevator she locked the door electronically.