Emily Rooks' True Lust

Enjoy free my standalone short story, “Pink Tomato”!

Pink Tomato

“The colors you’ve used!”

Xavier only nodded as I a cooed over his designs. His portfolio truly was impressive – a retro peach soda can done in neon orange and purple…a logo of beige pottery on a background that I couldn’t decide if it was more brown or gray…a gradient of gold to turquoise on a tube of antiperspirant.

If only he’d show as much passion toward me as he did his designs. He hadn’t even noticed my short black dress and thigh-highs that evening.

I’m sure those blue eyes and that cleft chin of his had seen a fair number of short black dresses in this studio of course. But for the past few weeks, I’d been that skirt.

I closed his portfolio. “Thanks for sharing that with me. You’re really quite good.”

He shrugged.

I eyed him, trying to identify what he really meant by that gesture. “You know,” I said at last, “sometimes I think you don’t really believe my praise is worth much.”

His eyes shot up. Good, that got him feeling something. “No, that’s not what I think, Tori.”

“What do I know about graphic design, after all? I’m just a barista.”

He shook his head. “That’s not it at all.”

“What is it then?”

“I’m…I’m just tired.”

“That’s why you don’t ever seem excited when I’m around?”

He froze. Caught.

“I mean, you’re okay with me always coming over, but you never seem–”

Xavier placed his hands on my shoulders, focused his attention on me. Okay, now that’s some emotion. “I love you very much. And I do value your opinion.”

I let that linger in the air a moment. “Prove it.”

He let go of me, looked as if he were deep in thought a moment. “Well, I am having trouble with one design.”

“Oh?” Not quite what I was looking for, but I guess it was a start.

He went over to his computer, opened a file. A collage of plump ripe tomatoes appeared in various shades of pink and red. “It’s for this company called Pink Tomato. I can’t seem to get the right shade of pink though.”

I stood next to him, real close, breathed in his scent, it like a smooth bourbon. He was right.  There was carnation pink, watermelon pink, even Barbie pink, but they all looked wrong, like when some little kid colors a tree trunk orange.

“The thing is, I always think of a tomato as bright red, maybe a little darker than an apple’s red. But trying to think of it as pink, well, my mind just can’t wrap around it…”

“Try some pinks that are darker.” I pushed another chair next to him, sat down.

He tapped several keys, shifted the mouse around, tapped yet more keys, enlarged one tomato, tapped other keys. I quietly slipped off my heels and let my toe touch his foot.

Xavier remained focused on the screen. Time to up the ante.

I rubbed my toe gently along his leg, just above the ankle.

He looked back at me.

I batted my eyes at him.

Xavier returned to the screen, tapped away, and I frowned. Then he asked, “Like that?”

The tomato was the color of a red tulip. “Mmm…a little lighter maybe.”

He nodded, went back to the keyboard. My toe went back to his leg, slowly traced a line up to his knee. Any higher, and I’d tip over in my chair.

“Um, wait a minute,” he said then reached under his seat and pulled off his shoes. That’s a good sign.

As his attention returned to his computer, my foot massaged his then slipped up to his ankle. My sole melded around it.

Still, nothing seemed to matter to him than that computer screen. Damn, am I going to have to get on my knees and suck his cock to get his full attention? No, he’d probably just keep typing over my head. The canvas of his screen means far more to him than I do.

Yet for as much as he ignored me, the more I wanted him, like a cookie set out in plain sight but you have to wait until after dinner to eat. Except with Xavier, dinner might never come. Damn it, I’m going to eat that cookie.

My sole went up his leg.

“You’re being a naughty girl,” he said as typing, then he stopped and turned to me.

I gave him a playful smile.

Xavier spun his chair away from the computer toward me, then leaned in. He swept my hair over an ear and took a good look at me.

Our eyes locked onto one another, and I felt as if I could drown in the blueness of his. I hoped the sensual dip of my head and the way I lightly bit the corner of my lip would send his biology into overdrive.

If it doesn’t, this will.

Standing, I reached behind my back and undid the zipper on my dress, then my fingers pulled it off my shoulders. Gravity took it to my waist, then I wiggled it down my hips and thighs until it fell to the floor below me. I stood there in my black lace bra and black thigh-highs. Oh, had I neglected to say I hadn’t worn any panties that night?

Xavier’s eyes widened, and I stepped right up to him. His fingers traced the curve of my hips, the touch like a flicker of wind over my bare skin. Then settling on a spot, his hands gripped me, as his head moved to my pussy. The point of his tongue licked straight up my slit, separating my folds.

“Ooooh,” I murmured, as my head arched back and eyes closed.

An instant later, he found my clit, easy to do for when swollen it’s pinker and larger than usual, a blessing if there ever was one given some men’s cluelessness. My hands grasped the back of his head.

Xavier’s tongue made slow, luxurious circles, and I grinded forward. Maybe he’s not so clueless after all.

For a long moment, Xavier sucked in my labia, as I caressed his soft, black hair, then he returned to my clit, circling it slowly then ever so gradually increasing his speed, until my hips grinded in rhythm against his mouth. My breathing deepened, and his finger dipped into my pussy, then withdrew slightly and thrust in again. I let out a little whimper and bit my lips, as his hand cupped a breast, gently squeezed it, and brushed against my hardening nipple.

Every muscle in my body tightened, and then it began, that wonderful release, and I threw my head back and let out a loud gasp and for the longest moment felt as if I were floating on a current of warm air. I collapsed against Xavier, and he held me tight.

After a minute, I tried to stand, but with still weak legs and my head dizzy, I stumbled back into him.

He chuckled. “My, you are a naughty girl, aren’t you?” He slapped my butt.

I jumped and yelped, but in the same instant my heart started pounding, as I felt my pussy grow wet again. And then, I was struck by the most brilliant thought.

“Say, I have an idea about that pink tomato problem you’re facing.”

“What?” he said.

I leaned over the chair so that my butt was on full display for him. “The problem is your canvas.”

“My canvas?”

“My complexion is the perfect canvas to find a shade of pink. Spank me and see what color you get.”

For a moment he didn’t move, as if contemplating whether I was serious. I wiggled my butt. “Naughty girls should be spanked, don’t you agree?” I said playfully.

He rose, kneaded my lower back. “You look so sexy bent over like that. How does the massage feel?”

“Really nice,” I said slowly and with eyes closed, luxuriated in his kneading. “I was wondering when you would touch me.”

Xavier placed his fingertips on my butt cheeks, gazed at them for an agonizing moment as a shiver of anticipation ran through me. “And how does this feel?”

His palm slapped my ass, and I winced. Before my face could relax, he slapped it, then again, and then once more. The sting hit me like a thousand rose bush thorns brought down on my bare skin all at once.

There was a pause as he adjusted his stance, and I caught my breath. Then his hand came down hard on my other cheek, then again and again and again, as I gritted my teeth.

My breathing quickened, and nipples hardened against the constraints of my lace bra.

Then he slapped one butt cheek and then the other and repeated it over and over. My ass burned, like it were being held over a fire. One of my legs bent upward, a totally reflex action.

I was losing control to him.

And he knew it.

His strikes came down faster and harder, the stinging impact echoing off the wall, and my mouth flew open, wanting to scream, as my ass felt like it was on fire. Surely now he sees my pussy juices slowly dripping down the inside of my thigh.

He stopped. I could feel the heat of his stare watching it. My hand flew back to my butt, tried to rub out the pain. He pushed it away.

“It’s not quite the right pink,” he said, “but I think we’re almost there.”

His hand pressed on my lower back, and the other slapped the top of my butt, then the bottom, then each cheek, focusing on the parts that already burned, reddening them even more.

I closed my eyes, moaned.

There was one more sharp slap, and he pulled back.

“Yes, I think that it’s it – that’s the right color.”

He quickly went over to this computer and glancing at my ass then the screen, found the matching hex code for the tomato.

I remained still, not wanting to mess with his canvas.

“What do you think of this?” he said.

I looked over my shoulder. “It’s perfect!” It really was.

“You won’t believe what hex color it is.”

My eyes widened, as I shrugged.

“FF5470. Fiery rose.”

I giggled – and then he pulled his shirt over his head and unbuckled his belt, let his pants drop to the floor. His erect cock pushed the front of his boxers outward. He tugged them down past his thighs, let them fall to the floor as well. He stepped out of the puddle of clothes, his large beige cock and its purple head bobbing with each step.

I grinned. Finally some passion.

~ FIN ~

“Pink Tomato” is anthologized in my book “Spanking Tales” available in paperback, Kindle ebook or audiobook.