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Tipping Point -- Chapter 1: Blow by Blow

She walks closer to his right side. Unexpectedly, her footsteps click on a hard surface. He looks down at the floor to see dark-stained wood tiles. A large, gold-trimmed, brown and green tapestry covers most of the floor space opposite the desk, from which she came.
She walks beside him carrying a medium-sized black bag.
Her voice is more sterile, now, “Have a hard time finding the place?”

CLICK

He watches her retract her hand from under a lamp shade. The golden light from a small lamp floods the shallow darkness. He blink, staring at the light's source. “Yeah. I kept getting lost.”

CLICK

Another source of light emits the telltale brightness of its existence.
Through the light, he can see the wall to his left. Two sets of small, stained, wooden posts stand covered and held in place by single black glass tops. Offsetting the tables are three mahogany chairs with black leather cushions. On each of the tables sits a lit, stunning gold and purple Tiffany lamp, adorned with Chinese-styled art.
Hearing her voice he turns to see her form behind him. “It can be daunting, especially at night.” Beside her, at the rear of the desk, is a large, brown, leather chair. He hears her moving some objects behind him, but can't see what they are.

With the same mundane voice, she continues her questions. “Do you like my house?” Listening to her voice, he feels at ease, “Yes. It looks like something out of a –moooohhaaavvveeeee.” Several sharp points prick the soles of his feet.
Her fingers play with the ribbons that bind his legs. Running her fingers up his legs, she caresses his calves. Her touch is warm and gentle. Her fingers squeeze his dainty thighs. Her hands slide down between his thighs and then back up on top of them in circular motions. Every time her hands move up she squeezes his small, thigh muscles.
Every time she repeats the pattern of movement she moves farther north. “I love your short, girlish frame.” At the end of what he expected to be another circle, her hands glide up onto his butt cheeks. Her hands squeeze his cheeks and pull them apart. He gasps, “Ahhhh—ooooh.” Cool flow up his crack. His hole puckers in response.

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