SEDUCTRESS
CY NOTE-I must warn you that what what follows addresses adult themes and contains nasty words. It is about loneliness, vulnerability and lost hope.
Janet smiled at the beaten boiler, the bait, that she had spent most of last night sledgehammering. She still wore the bra 
and knickers that had seemed so empowering in that frenzy of preparation, albeit now concealed under an unseasonal summer dress. She rinsed the wine glass that had seen her through two bottles of red, and added a slug of Gordons. She steadied herself against the sink and winked at her reflection smeared across the black, rain battered window.
When the bell finally tolled she sighed and undid more buttons. She slipped a hand down her panties, then primed her tongue with a dab of her slightly acidic juice. In the dim hall she felt embarrassed by her clownish attempts to reapply lipgloss and shoved the lodger’s abandoned bike against the wall.
At the door, she purred, “Who’s there?” through the peephole. Encouraged by some grunts outside she managed to work her keys (at the third attempt) before bumping her head with an unpredicted stumble. When she finally flung open the front door she gazed down at the stumpy plumber and congratulated herself on choosing leopard print ballet pumps over the more obvious heels.
“Afternoon love, so where is it?” asked U-Bend We Mend’s northern representative, lugging his box of tricks over the threshold of brown envelopes. His name tag read Jerry.
Janet giggled, beckoning him into the flat with her gin. He seemed to look beyond her, seeking a boiler in distress, so she blocked the hallway whilst the plumber took a moment to gag appreciatively on her perfume.
Careful to keep it subtle, Janet placed her hands behind her head to prove her friendly intentions and to showcase her naked armpits, hoping that he liked it natural. Sensing a connection, she swirled and ground her hips as though working a hula hoop in slow-mo whilst staring silently into the man’s grey eyes. She probably mouthed the lyrics to the Whitney Houston ballad that was kicking the shit out of the speakers in the front room, and pouted with all her power.
After some lip licking she danced in close, nose to nose. “Men in uniform always get me hot. Do you know what I mean by hot, Gary?”
“The name’s Jerry love.”
“Don’t I know it, and I’ve got a fever and it’s time for you to give me some treatment.” Janet was now too wild for further small talk, and felt for a bicep under Jerry’s checked shirt. When he recoiled she sucked back her ripe breath, fighting the urge to go immediately for the groin.
“You’re a bit fresh for an old girl ain’t yer?” blabbed Jerry, forgetting his manners, suggesting that he thought this was all a big joke. “A naughty lady like you could get a feller in a shitload of bother. And you do not want to mess me about girl.”
Janet decided that Jerry was just being cheeky. His eyes were slits, and definitely fixed on her panties that were visible behind the open curtain of her dress. That was a start and Janet lead Jerry by the hand into the kitchen. On arrival she did not let go as he whistled (through his mouth) and exhaled (through his nostrils) and creased his brow and wiped his chin (with his free hand) as he faced the boiler. It was hanging off the wall, ticking like pistol fire; its surface corrugated and cratered after withstanding a sustained assault of hammers, heavy candlesticks, a steel dustbin, an old video player, fists and feet.
“Don’t reckon I’m gonna be able to save that one love,” admitted Jerry, checking his digital watch.
“Oh don’t tell me that Gary, oh heavens, say it ain’t so,” begged Janet, working up some tears.
“Sorry missus, but someone’s given that a fierce going over. I can take it away now, for scrap…”
“Oh no Gary, don’t leave, I’m scared. what if whoever did that comes back?” Her words were soft, if a tad slurred, although the sobbing that followed was a full blooded throat-shredder. She drew him close, her hands wandering, squeezing him, playing with the stubble on his crown, their cheeks together so he could feel her tears. After several minutes Jerry tried to push Janet off, but she positioned herself so his hands cupped her boobs.
“My goodness Gary, are you trying to take advantage of a lonely woman,” she blurted.
“I told you girl, you don’t want to mess me about.”
“God you’re strong Gary. So strong! Look at those pecs.” As she spoke Janet took his hands from her boobs and made him squeeze his own (slightly) smaller versions. This marked a turning point. Jerry put his hands on his hips and smiled like a slow child who had finally understood the lesson.
Satisfied that she had his attention, Janet lifted her skirt high and let it fall like a flamenco dancer. She raised her hands, dancing softly, tossing her hair, singing The Greatest Love of All (”I never found anyone to fulfill my needs, a lonely place to be, So I learned to depend on me”) and twirled, but not before freeing her heavy boobs from their cups, so Gary could gaze upon her naked flesh. He watched in awe. Other than cracking his knuckles he was motionless. Janet turned her back on him, giggling. Then she bent double, dress over hips, and drew a finger across her gusset with a beckoning crook. Jerry spluttered, and Janet examined him (upside down), bordered by her thighs. He reached into his dungarees either to make room for a fat cock, or to retrieve an inhaler to treat an onslaught of whooping cough.
Although Janet’s finger clearly said, “Come hither,” she was worried that her intentions were still unclear. She contemplated dropping to her knees and going for the plumber’s loin there and then, but Jerry’s giant hands eventually reached round her belly. His fingers clasped, to help him grind her rump purposefully. Janet was not ashamed when the rhythmic pressure forced out a long whistle of gas from her bum; the accompanying noise was reduced to a buffeting sensation by the merciful stereo and the cat litter tray masked the smell.
By mutual consent they soon made for the bedroom. Some candles had burned out, but there was still enough fire to create a romantic glow. She almost collapsed when she noticed that she had forgotten to hide the brimming ashtray, and that the dope and empty pill bottles were still by the bed. Luckily, 24 hours of heavy alcohol and painkiller abuse had not entirely poisoned her mind and (as a distraction) she crawled onto the bed, pulling her floral dress over her head in a seductive motion. She coated her fingers with body butter, tugged her culotte aside, and eased two fingers up her bum right to the fist. In out, in out, shake it all about. She grunted, more baboon than babe. This performance continued for many minutes, and as Janet became aware of the rain attacking the rattling window and the biting cold in her unheated room, and as she had all but given up hope, Jerry began setting out his filthy intentions.
Delighted by this breakthrough, Janet sat on the edge of the bed, leaving a cappuccino stain as she unbuckled her prey. Before her, in cotton shirt and nylon Y-fronts, Jerry patted his well nourished gut, and flexed his stick thin legs.
She wanted to do this right, and spent longer than usual clawing his blue skin. There was blood under her fingernails by the time she started massaging his scrotum. She gnawed the lump in his pants, before tenderly lowering them.
His cock was partially aroused, albeit disappointingly bowed. Janet sighed; she knew she had saggy tits, but at least she had rouged her nipples to make up for it. She lifted each tit to Jerry’s gaping mouth, inviting him to suckle her, rubbing his lips with each fat teat. This was a seductress at the peak of her powers. She fell to her knees and Jerry’s erection was soon dripping with moisturiser and Janet’s secretions as she took the entire organ in her mouth. She tried to get a bollock in as well, but Jerry was still not confident enough for that. She used her thumb and forefinger to stroke his shaft, reassured that even dirty penetration would hardly hurt her. To wipe the ominous frown from Jerry’s face she tried again to force a finger up his anus, but the hairy arse-mesh proved impenetrable.
After suckling, nipping and hard teasing (until she almost had lockjaw) Janet leant back and parted her complicated lips putting on a hell of a display, which included jilling herself off. She threw plenty of body butter at Jerry to keep him interested before ordering him to slip a glass dildo into an opening of his choosing.
At long last Jerry took control, ignoring her slurred commands. He crawled on top and, after some near misses, buried his cock into her glistening fanny. He almost crushed her as he adjusted his grip round her throat. His violent pounding made her fart three or four times, but neither cared. Jerry’s big head was redder now, as sweat ran over engorged veins. His grin revealed gnashing teeth. He practically head butted the seductress with each thrust. He squealed like a girl and the room grew dark.
Janet started thrashing and tried to summon a defensive scream which only tightened Jerry’s grip, his cock pumping harder. She gurgled and strained for air as Jerry’s fist covered her nose, forcing her head into the pillow. By the time she started bucking, fighting him off, she found herself wondering when her daughter would be home from school. As her strength diminished, her brain started screaming. Strangely, she remembered her first kiss, her graduation, the smell of her daughter’s skin and laughing at the funfair. She was floating; ecstatic.
She concluded that the candles must have all burned out before her sight faded to black.
