“An abominable screed”

“Horny and horrifying”

– my lovely beta reader

***

Michael’s family had been in the furniture making business for generations.

A few particles of dust were dancing in the sunbeam bisecting the quiet shop, illuminating the golden nuances in the woodwork. Large leafed plants filled the corners with their glistening leaves.

The lovely creature was tapping its heel against the parquet in the waiting room, rhythm unsteady.

“Come in”

The creature stood up with a slight wobble. It wasn’t used to supporting the weight of its body in this way, to shift its center of gravity like that. No matter, a good designer can take that sort of thing into account. It traversed the floor and it sounded like a skitter.

The cocktail party was barely audible once Robert made his way upstairs. Rather than embody his excuse and beeline for the bathroom, he meadered, exploring the opulence of his acquaintance’s home. One room with tastefully dim lighting opened into another, and each was a feast for the eye anew, and he paced them, drinking in the environment while making note of the extraordinary wealth it all betrayed.

He had known that his host came from money. But he had not expected to find his fingertips itching with aggression at the sight of it, and he had certainly not expected to be so gobsmacked by its beauty.

This room appeared to be a library or a study. The walls were covered with shelves, and the middle of the room was taken up by a large desk. A single pen reflected itself in its surface. Velvet curtains covered the dark mirrors of windows facing into the night.

Having retreated mostly for the sake of peace and with no plans to return downstairs any time soon, he took his time to examine the shelves carefully, running his fingers over each spine in tipsy fascination.

The distant din of voices fell away completely when his gaze fell on the unusual table.

Eos found it very easy to follow the pace of the furniture maker. Bend like this. Move like this. Hold still. When Eos began to tremble the furniture maker wrapped his warm hand around the offending limb and held it in place while continuing his work.

When Eos failed to understand the pose the furniture maker wanted, he exhaled sharply. His shoe tapped their feet apart until their legs were spread and they were bent over. They opened their eyes a crack to see him walk appraisingly behind them. He saw them looking and tapped their chin with the tip of his dress shoe. They looked down to see only Eos’s own hands resting lightly on their ankles. He was taking notes, sketching lines, murmuring into his dictaphone.

He placed a hand on each of their buttocks and spread them.

“Moving on to the curvature of the center feature. Looks stunning from afar, asymmetrical inner lips with a slight curl and purplish coloration. Outside is plump.” The furniture maker ran a finger along each side of Eos’s slit with practiced hands. He pinched the outer lips gently but firmly. “Dina,” he said, presumably addressing the assistant who would be transcribing the recording, “I don’t think we need to do anything to keep this flower unfurled unless the client has specifically requested it. Check if there’s a request for removable clamps or permanent piercings on file. Thank you.”

Eos did not shiver, but managed to hold completely still.

The furniture maker turned away and they looked again. He leafed through some paper and then reached over to a dispenser on the wall. The metal lever pushed onto the rubber ball on the stand back bottle. With a squelch it generously filled his hand with a clear gel.

He put his palm against their crotch and spread it around Eos’ holes without waiting for it to warm up. It was nice, to cool down a little.

He inserted his fingers, felt out the shape and quality of each hole on the inside to determine the angle at which they would be optimally experienced.

Then he tested them out with his cock, a perk of the job, and left the heavy lifting of crafting to his assistants.

The sound Robert had first assumed to be a grandfather clock in the distance was now revealed to be a table leg slowly tapping. The legs appeared to be those of a woman, starting in a pointed heel on the floor moving up into a well turned calf and smooth thighs. She was lightly spread by her pose and the arch of her back created a surface for a table top holding several publications. The rest of her body was enclosed in a type of cupboard. He crouched down, placed a finger on the inner ankle bone and ran it all the way up the leg, watching goosebumps spread across the thigh.

The publication on top of the pile was a collection of eighteenth century erotic woodcuts, laid open to an image depicting a sleeping person, another crouched behind them, erect, covering their fingers with spit. Kitagawa Utamaro, Client Lubricating a Prostitute.

What a pretentious jackass. Robert lifted the tome out of the way to find several worn issues of Juggs magazine. Nipple Queen. Busty Brittany’s A-hole. My brother books my gang-bangs, trailer tramp confesses.

He examined the table further. Its Pussy wasn’t visible when standing over the table top. In fact, it appeared to be an entirely ordinary twisted rich person table to store one’s printed matter Porn on, if not for the tapping, the heat radiating off it, the scent of it growing wetter.

Robert made use of the masturbatory aid fate had provided him.

The cum leaked out of the hole and down the folds of the piece.

One of the girls always waiting in the shadows would be by to clean it later.