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About the author:
Alexis Moore is a demure office worker by day and a writer of naughty erotica by night. Her best-selling stories range from erotic romance to hardcore erotica and vary in length and intensity.
What inspired you to write your book?
My filthy imagination.
Here is a short sample from the book:
He looked suave and even better looking now, sitting behind his father’s desk and wearing a light grey shirt which perfectly matched his eyes. I stared at him stupidly for several seconds, realizing in horror that except for the top which occasionally rode up and showed the undersides of my breasts and the short skirt my mother often threatened to burn or give to the twelve-year-old girl next door, I was naked to his gaze.
“So, Bruiser, what can I do for you?”
“I’m here to see your father.” My voice came out wobbly.
“My father retired three months ago. He and Mum are currently on a Caribbean cruise.”
“So who’s in charge?” I asked, hoping that I was mistaken in thinking that he was.
“I am, of course. Who did you expect to be?”
This is why my dad was worried, I realized. Old Mr Hudson had known him for years and knew how good he was at his job as an investment banker. This young upstart would only see the money he would lose if he lost Mrs North’s account. I decided it would be foolish to beg him for anything.
“Never mind, then.” I grabbed the side of the door wishing that I could back through it instead of having to turn around and walk through it. My mother claimed that the cheeks of my ass were visible under the skirt, but I disagreed totally. The only things visible were the tops of my thighs as they curved into my ass, but I didn’t particularly want him seeing that much of me.
“Come back here, Bruiser!”
I wanted to stick two fingers in the air and tell him to sit on them, but my father’s job kept me in a style to which I had become accustomed. If he lost it, I would have to find one of my own.
I turned around obediently and stared at him.
Walking slowly back to his desk, I willed my breasts not to bounce. They didn’t, but to my horror I felt my nipples hardening as his eyes zeroed in on them.
Instead of offering me a seat, he looked me up and down, slowly, assessingly.
“Did you come here dressed like that hoping to entice my father into reinstating your father’s job?”
“Reinstating?” I repeated, wanting to punch his lights out now. “You fired him?”
“I haven’t fired him yet, but he’s left me little choice in the matter. Mrs North is a pain in the ass, but she’s a multi million-pound pain in the ass. Sometimes you have to endure the pain, no matter how much your ass hurts, to get to the pleasure of the profits afterwards.”
Maybe it isn’t too late to stick those fingers into him, I thought.
“So, you came here flashing lots of cleavage and even more leg, hoping to make my father lose his head?”
“I didn’t,” I protested indignantly.
How dare he think so cheaply of me?
“I would need a lot more than a flash of cleavage and the sight of your long legs.”
“I wasn’t offering you anything.”
“Really?” He sounded so uninterested I wanted to knock his perfectly groomed head off his broad shoulders. “That’s a shame because I was willing to be convinced.”
“What would I have to do?” I asked hesitantly.
I would give him a blowjob in a heartbeat, but nothing else. I don’t like sex. I can’t imagine why people have it, except to have kids. My ex-boyfriend, Mark, and I had fooled around when we were sixteen. I hated it! The pain, the…ugh! After the fourth time I told him I wasn’t doing it anymore. And after a month of giving him excellent blowjobs, even if I say so myself, he broke up with me to have ‘proper’ sex with Darla, my bitterest rival all through secondary school.
“I want you to strip for me.”