A Night With Irene

He sat on the couch, waiting, Irene had left him
about twenty minutes before. The room was very dark,
sparsely lite and furnished. The small stereo in the
corner of the room was tuned to an oldies station. It
felt like it had been forever since she had left him,
the date had been a disaster. Nothing had gone right,
all he wanted to do now was to go home, salvage what
was left of the week-end. It had been a long week
working in the plant, it had been a big mistake to ask
Irene out.
It was not because Irene was not nice looking but
because she was so rigid, everything had to be just
right. He hated perfectionists. There were way to many
at the plant now. He thought of all the supervisors
constantly vying for the attention of the higher ups,
making life nearly impossible for all the joe schmo's,
like him. All he wanted out of life was to do his
eight hours and go home.
His friends had arranged the date with Irene, she
worked in the office at the plant. Behind her back
most people called her the ice princess, she was cold
and remote. This she was to almost everyone but him.
That he never understood, he liked her, had helped her
out at the grocery store once and every now and again
they would just talk about things.
He looked around the room, all he could see was
the leather sofa he sat on, a coffee table and the
stereo. There were no windows in the room as far as he
could tell. He wondered why anyone would paint a room
so dark and gloomy. Irene lived in a very nice house,
all the other rooms looked completely normal with
furniture, pictures, all kinds of nick-knacks.
Everything was normal save this one room with its
leather sofa.
His train of thought was interrupted by Irene's
reappearance. He shot to his feet, exclaiming
incredulously, "Irene?" Irene Abbot was normally the
most conservatively dressed person in the world, much
less the plant. Hair in a bun, suits impeccably
tailored for her, horned rimmed glasses that had been
out of style for over thirty years. Who stood before
him now had to be someone completely different. It
made him very nervous.
She stood in the doorway, her raven hair now
draped lusciously over her shoulders. Irene was
wearing black leather pants that looked as if she had
been poured into them, a matching sleeveless shirt
which defined her ample breasts to good effect.
Topping everything off with a pair of over the elbow
leather gloves, which clung to her arms like a second
skin.
"Wow", he exclaimed. Irene said nothing, but
smiled. In her right hand she held a cigarette in a
six inch holder, she brought it to her lips, taking a
small drag. She exhaled the smoke, saying" Sit down
Frank, you make me nervous standing up. Whats the
matter, never seen someone get into something more
comfortable before?"
Irene walked towards him as he sat or rather
plopped back down on the sofa. He was far too
engrossed in Irene to notice she carried something in
her left hand close to her side. Nature was taking
its course, he found himself trying to hide a rock
hard erection. His own clothes a sweater and a pair
of loose fitting slacks failed to camouflage the
growing bulge. Irene quickly spotted the flagpole like
bulge, smiling she sat down on his lap sideways,
whatever she had had in her left hand was on the
coffee table.
Frank put one arm over legs, placed the other on
her back. In return she put her left hand on the back
of his head. He could not speak, he was in a state of
complete shock. He had not even known Irene had
smoked.
She squirmed ever so slightly in his lap, he felt
his member move. He moaned as it was moved by her
actions. The leather she wore was buttery soft to his
touch. As she stroked his hair, slightly touching his
face he could feel the smoothness and coldness of her
leather gloves. The smell of the leather was driving
him mad.
She brought the holder back to her lips, taking
another drag, she turned her head slightly to blow
smoke away from him. Turning back she looked at him,
bringing the holder down to his lips.
"Here try it." she cooed. Hesitantly he put his
lips to it and inhaled, immediately breaking into a
spasm of coughs as the smoke choked him. She did not
laugh, instead she smiled.
"Good boy" she added.
She got up for a moment taking the cigarette out
of its holder, crushing it in an ashtray on the table.
She turned back around, now straddling Frank. She
pushed him back into the softness of the leather sofa,
moving her body ever so slowly over his now rock
hardness. He started to moan, but she covered his
mouth with her lips. Holding his face with her leather
clad hands. Her lips were warm,wet and soft so very,
soft. He felt himself getting lost in the kiss, she
stopped long enough to bring him back up, putting his
face between her soft mountains of flesh. She had
brought him forward enough to reach the jar on the
table. Frank was far to lost, kissing her breasts to
notice her lift the lid and reach for the sponge that
lay inside.
She forced him from her bosom. Back down to the
softness of the sofa, the sound of leather squeaking
and its unique aroma, had Frank completely lost. She
threw her body on top of his, kissing and gently
biting his neck. As she was gently biting his neck,
she heard his intake of breath, then the release, she
knew her moment had come.
Her left hand was on the back of his head, she
clamped the sponge over his nose and mouth with her
right. It was already too late as he inhaled the
burning sweet smelling fumes into his lungs. She
pinned him against the sofa, her grip was strong. He
had already taken too deep a breath of the chloroform
impregnated on the sponge. In an iron, leather-clad
grip she firmly held the sponge to his face. In his
panic he tried to struggle, the fumes burned his eyes,
the sweet smelling fumes were robbing him of his
senses.
A sound like ocean waves began in his ears. All
this time Irene said"Shush, Shush, Don't be afraid, go
with it." With each breath his senses fell about him.
Except for the throbbing between his legs until at
last, the slow moving feeling of lethargy crept up his
body. The rock hardness now fade into nothingness,
everything started to fall away. His arms no longer
responded, no longer could he keep his eyes open. All
that was left was to breath in the sweet fumes. His
last conscious thought was of a multi-colored vortex
that sucked him deeper and deeper into it until a
seductive black oblivion claimed him.
Irene held the sponge over Frank's nose and mouth
only until his struggles subsided. Then she held it
away from his face until his breathing deepened with
total relaxation. The more oxygen with chloroform the
better the anesthesia, when she was sure he would not
waken, she placed the sponge back into the jar.
She laid him out on the sofa, taking his clothes
off. She thought it was a shame about his erection,
but when he awoke it would be even harder than before.
When she was done, Irene put a black silk sheet over
Frank. She sat down at the other end of the sofa,
placing a cigarette into her holder, lite it and sat
in silence smoking.
When she was done, she peeled off her clothes,
laying atop the unconscious Frank. She waited ever so
patient for him to awake. As she lay, her hand glided
down to the now limp organ, she held it between her
now naked fingers, waiting for its awakening. She
smiled.