Lloyd's Angel Ch. 07

Lloyd's Angel: Angela's Other Life

November 2010

I didn't remember drifting off, but I realized the office was quiet except for soft breathing. The familiar tangle of glistening spun silk hovered above me in my mind's eye, and I opened my eyes to find Angel crouched over me, looking intently into my face from mere inches away.

She was completely naked, covered with sweat and feminine nectar, and exuded a musk that completely overwhelmed her usual perfume. Her hair hung in disarray around our faces like a curtain, shielding us from the rest of the world. We kissed without saying a word, the sort of deep lip lock that stole your breath away without being aggressive.

"I missed you," I told her when I could speak again, and watched the smile spread across her face. "How were the girls?"

"Needy," she replied a touch unevenly. "You know, women can cum a lot more often than men." I reflected on what that meant to somebody who climaxed every time her partner did. "I swear two of them were multi-orgasmic," Angel continued, "but it wasn't -- satisfying. I missed you, too." Her hand drifted to my fly. "I missed having you inside me."

My cock was obligingly erect by the time her fingers clasped it. Somehow we managed to work my trousers down my legs without dislodging Angel or pulling a muscle. Sighing happily, she settled herself on my man-root until I was completely encased in her slick satin folds, and began massaging me with her cunt.

It was a virtuoso demonstration of muscular control, but largely wasted on her audience. I gazed up at her toned body and reached out first to cup and caress her breasts, and then to pull her down against me. Angel was breathing heavily, mirroring my own arousal.

"Do I excite you?" she breathed in my ear.

I smiled into the fall of her hair. "You know you do." A roll of my hips emphasized the degree of my excitement. "I spent too much of today dreaming of tapping this tight little body."

"I'm always wet for you," Angel admitted. "Cum in me, please -- I need you now!"

Not for the first time, the bittersweet thought that she told no less than the truth, and that the most beautiful creature in the world belonged to me, absolutely, got my rocks off. Angel bit her lip and convulsed atop me as she achieved her own release.

After a moment, Angel tensed to slide down and clean me, but I held her in place. "Leave me inside, tonight," I told her. "Just stay; we need to talk."

She looked closely at me, absently sweeping her hair over one shoulder, and untensed. "Is everything okay, Boss?"

The feel of her still clutching my organ, the weight of her breasts again my chest, and the soft breath in my ear were far better than just okay. There was something to be said for being old enough to step off the physical rut treadmill once in a while; I hadn't let myself wallow in intimate contact like this for over seven years, not since...

"Boss?"

I refused to let myself get sidetracked now by memories of someone, something, who was dead and gone past all hope of recovery. I'd just push through it like I always did. "Sorry, a stray thought. I wanted to talk with you about Rose Cunningham."

"Rose," Angel breathed, and it was her turn to take on a distracted expression.

If trying to describe my ability was difficult, this was nightmarish. Angel was a creature of the night and my creation, and had no direct memories of a person she'd never "met." She had intellectual knowledge of Angela's memories from before she'd been "born," but nothing more recent. Somehow, she had the ability to pick through Angela's mind -- sort of like asking a friend a question, without the friend remembering the conversation -- but I was always skittish about asking her to exercise it. I didn't know what might happen if something "leaked," and I couldn't bear the thought of risking either of the two women in the body riding mine.

"Good-looking redhead, almost as hot as me, short hair?" she asked me.

"Hair's grown out some, and almost as hot," I confirmed. We exchanged looks of shared amusement. "That's her. She lives near Angela, and seems to have figured out Angela isn't really going to the University when she claims she is. What do I need to know? Start with the old stuff first."

"They met at high school; BFF." Angel laughed at my quizzical expression and spelled it out: "Best Friends Forever. Don't tell me you haven't heard that one before." She shrugged. "They fell out of contact after graduating; Angela went into the service and Rose went through college. She got a job with a big firm in Saint Louis. There's an older brother who lives in California, and her parents relocated to North Carolina a few years back."

After a pause, Angel added, "I think she's kind of kinky."

That surprised me on several levels. "You think, or Angela thinks? And why?"

Her response was a short sultry laugh. "I strongly suspect; Angela wasn't sure. The mean girls called her 'Rose Cunnilingus' and 'Rose Cummingham', but high school girls will hang a slur on somebody at the drop of a hat. I'm pretty sure she hit on Angela once, in senior year." We both felt my cock twitch, which prompted another smile from Angel. "Not exactly academic interest, Boss!"

"Anyway, Angela was too clueless to recognize it at the time, and Rose never pushed it. For the rest, there's nothing to point at, but she just threw off vibes that suggested she was more, um, curious than her classmates."

It all sounded in line with what Rose had told me, and helped clarify her interest. Still, understanding the recent past would be critical in avoiding any mistakes. "I left Rose's card on the desk; take a look before you go any further, okay?"

Angel lithely uncoiled herself and walked across the office, showcasing her perfect ass. I watched a rivulet of my spend start down her inner thigh, only to be absentmindedly intercepted by a finger and transferred to her mouth.

"Rose Cunningham, Interior Designs," she read. "Well, she's still using her maiden name, and that was what she got her degree in." Angel looked briefly at the back of the card. "Collecting phone numbers from attractive women, at your age. Should I be jealous?"

"Absolutely not. As long as I can draw breath, you'll be mine." The conviction in my voice was driven equally by desire and a sense of responsibility.

"That sounded almost romantic," she teased gently while walking back to the couch.

I thought she was going to clean me and put up a hand to stop her, but Angel surprised me again by taking my hand and climbing carefully back onto the couch so she could stretch out against me. "It feels good," she explained when she saw my quizzical expression. One delicate hand wrapped possessively around my flaccid penis.

"Okay, Angela, what have you been doing?" she murmured to herself.

I waited patiently. Hell, like this, I could wait all night and be content.

She roused a few minutes later and smiled. "I think Rose needs to get laid."

"That's the most important thing you learned?" I protested.

"Maybe not," admitted Angel. "But she broke up with her latest boyfriend when she moved back, has some clothes in the closet that startled Angela, and seems to be deathly afraid of anybody getting near the drawer of her nightstand."

"What else?" I wondered.

"Rose moved back about six months ago. She was fed up with the corporate rat race and wanted to have more control over what she was doing, even if it meant taking risks. She's done the bar scene once or twice, but hasn't found anybody worth pursuing -- except maybe Angela." Angel squeezed my cock. "They do girl things together, and get spa treatments once a month." She leered at me, her expression wicked. "You should have seen the look on her face the first time she saw Angela naked!"

"What do you mean?" I knew there was nothing wrong with my Angel; I looked at her constantly.

Angel laughed in my face. "You're too close to the trees to see the forest, Boss! Angela still acts like she's a 27-year-old virgin, but she's waxed as clean as a billiard ball -- everywhere -- and has no tan lines -- anywhere! She only wears boots and athletic shoes, but the once Rose made her try on a pair of fuck-me pumps, she could walk in them like a runway model. If she's really tired or distracted, Angela can put on hose in less than minute, with no runs and straight seams; if she concentrates, she can ruin three pairs in a row. I think it's driving Rose crazy; she wants to make a move but can't read Angela and is scared to queer things if she makes a mistake." Her humor bubbled up again. "I bet with all the 'Lloyd this' and 'Lloyd that', she thought Angela had a boyfriend -- how did she react when she found out you were 48 years older?"

"Almost 48," I absently corrected her. I hadn't been looking at Rose's face, but I remembered her initial hesitation. "Why," I asked, looking up at her, "didn't I hear any of this?" I was confused, and a little hurt. "They're doing all this, she's sharing things about me, and I don't even hear Rose's name until she introduces herself to me tonight? It's like she's living some sort of secret life!"

"That's the pot calling the kettle black." Angel chuckled, but her eyes were sympathetic. She looked inward for a moment, and looked pensive. "I think you shut her out, Boss. It was different, before, but then you stopped talking to her about personal things; stopped asking about how her classes were going or what she'd done on her time off. You didn't go out for drinks after work anymore. She just figured you wanted to keep things on a strictly professional level."

Damn; hoist by my own petard. It made perfect sense, once somebody had pointed it out. I already knew exactly what Angela -- Angel -- did most of the time, so I had no reason to ask; and fearful the fabricated separation between the two personalities might fracture, excellent reasons not to poke at memories that might not stand up to introspection.

If my questions about Rose seemed to be answered, I still felt like I'd taken one step forward and two back.

"Thanks for the insight, and candor," I told Angel, before kissing her again.

"I'm yours," she declared simply after we broke.

"Yeah, well, I'm Danny's," I groused. "I suppose I'd better get off my keister before he comes looking for me." I very reluctantly helped Angel to her feet before standing myself up and inspecting my clothing. It would be easier to just send it all to the cleaners and start over; it was why Danny gave me a closet and a clothing allowance.

"The handsomest man I know," Angel complemented me as she finished adjusting my tie and brushed imaginary wrinkles away from the shoulders of the suit jacket.

"Coming from you, I'll take that," I smiled, and pulled her so tight to me she squeaked. I took a last look at the beautiful vision standing naked beside my desk, and left to find out what unenviable task Danny had waiting for me.