The interviews had gone on for days. Alan had talked with what seemed like hundreds of people who had come to apply for the job as his personal assistant and none of them had felt right until Beth Porter sat in the chair. She was perhaps thirty, or a little older, tall, almost as tall as Alan, and slender with long smooth hair the color of lightly creamed coffee. Her eyes were a warm brandy brown that caught and held his gaze without looking away. Her voice was a crisp mid-range alto that rolled from her slender throat like honeyed bird song. She wore a simple straight cut black skirt and a white silk blouse that showed off her small breats, and medium high heels, which showed off her shapely legs. Alan noticed it all and it caused a small tingle to rise at the base of his manhood; not raging desire but definite interest, and when she presented her resume it was exactly what he had been looking for.

Beth had started working the next day. She was remarkably efficient with transcribing the hand-written pages of Alan’s newest novel into the computer, and she instantly understood the breeding and pollination records for the plants, which was also part of her job to transcribe. Alan tried hard not to let his sexual interest in her show but it was difficult, especially when she swept his whole body with her warm brown eyes. And it was more difficult yet as she grew into the job she had been hired to do, which was take Mary’s place.

Alan Anthony always thought of himself as a “ne’er-do-well scribbler” but in fact he was anything but. He had written twenty-five books under various names and four of his mysteries had gone to the top of the best seller list. That was before his wife Mary had died. Alan had always secretly thought that she was the reason his “scribbling” had been so successful. She had been his secretary, typist, editor, and critic for fifteen years and it had been a wonderful team. They had fit one another perfectly, like pieces of a puzzle. They had even shared a passion for plants. So much so that they had built a huge conservatory as an extension of the house and each time Alan sold a book the conservatory grew larger. At last the greenhouse had covered more area than the house itself. Mary had laughed and said that they house had become the extension and the conservatory had become the main building.

Mary had been fond of exotic plants, especially of orchids and she became widely known as a breeder of the finest orchids on the west coast. She won prizes and some of her orchids were valued in the thousands of dollars. Alan was not so taken with the exotic. He grew many “common” flowers but he was especially fond of wild flowers. Bright orange California Poppies, Texas blue bells, wild larkspur and blue lupine were arranged as though nature had planted them but no wind had ever spread these wild seeds within the greenhouse. All were in fact carefully placed so that Alan could stand at certain places inside the conservatory and seem to be seeing large sweeps of wild countryside dotted with wild flowers at any time of the year.

When Mary’s cancer was discovered Alan stopped writing for the most part and when it became obvious that the cancer was winning he spent his days with Mary and his nights in the greenhouse. He worked diligently to keep the cross pollination schedule for Mary’s orchids up to date and discovered a certain sexual satisfaction in dealing with them. He and Mary had been joyously sexual all their lives and now, as he carefully took pollen from one pitcher shaped flower and deposited it into another, he noticed that the orchids were very feminine in shape and found himself with a raging erection. The next day he told Mary about it and she smiled. “They do look like vaginas, don’t they?” She said. “And they are warm and wet…”

When Mary died Alan retreated to the greenhouse and would not see anyone for days, but he was not a man to live in the past. After some months of mourning he began writing again and after a year he was his old self, but he soon discovered that he could not do everything. He needed an assistant, and now Beth had stepped into that position.

Beth had been working for more than a year when the sex which had been bubbling between she and Alan boiled over. Alan came out of his inner office into the area where Beth usually worked to find it empty. He called her name but got no answer. He knew she would not have left without telling him and she had never ventured anywhere else in the house so that meant she must be in the green house some where. He went to look for her and discovered her sitting in the orchid room. The air was warm and humid and perspiration popped out on his forehead as he stepped through the swing-seal doors.

The sound of the door opening startled Beth. She drew in a quick breath and came to her feet.

“Sorry,” Alan said. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“My fault. You’d think after all this time I wouldn’t be so fascinated by these. I really love your orchids. They are so beautiful.” Her smile was soft.

“Mary used to say they looked like vaginas,” Alan said, then blushed. He hadn’t meant to say it.

“She was right,” Beth answered unphased. “There is something sexual about them. The shape, and the way the flowers feel. It is like smooth flesh.” She passed her brown eyes over him and the heat of them made the orchid room all the warmer, and when she took a step closer to him the heat of his suddenly raging erection added to it.

“Beth, I…” he began, but she quickly took one short step closer and brushed her lips against his.

Her lips crackled against his and it was like a switch had been suddenly thrown. Their kiss grew from passionate to bruising and his hands slid from her shoulders to her hips. He gripped her bottom and felt the flex of strong muscle beneath the thin pad of flesh. He slid his hands down farther and began pulling her skirt up and up and up until it was around her waist and he could grip her bottom with only the silkiness of her panties between his hands and her flesh. His erection rose and Beth could feel it bump against her tummy and she brought her hands down to Alan’s hips. She pulled him more tightly against herself, the pressure of their loins together causing the sexual honey flow between her legs to go from trickle to flood.

After a moment Beth broke the kiss and slid down to her knees. Her hands began frantically working Alan’s belt loose and in a moment she had pulled his trousers to his knees, followed by his boxers. No longer confined his manhood sprang up straight and rock hard. The circumcised head was dark red-purple and a crystalline drop of pre-cum stood on the tip. Beth gasped with desire as she looked. She could smell the briny sharp odor of his body and it made her mouth water. She put forth her tongue tip and circled it around the head of his throbbing rigidity, tasting the slightly bitter savor of his flesh.

The touch of Beth’s tongue caused a moan to rise in Alan’s throat and his hips jumped a little toward that indescribable sensation of her tongue spiraling down his cock, and when her lips closed and tightened just behind the head her tongue tip rose to tickle the nerve center. It was all he could do to keep from exploding in her mouth, but he pulled himself away and physically hauled her to her feet. He picked her up and sat her roughly on a pile of sacks containing potting soil and spread her legs wide apart. The crotch of her panties was soaked and the flood of sex nectar had begun to coat the insides of her thighs above the tops of her high reach stockings. The crushed violet and sea mud smell of her excitement rose like a cloud of perfume to mix with the flat earthy smell of the potting soil.

Alan stepped between her legs and grabbed the crotch of her panties. He pulled it aside with such force that the sound of strained threads and cloth crackled, exposing her pussy. The pubic curls on it were sticky wet and glued to the flesh of her like spit curls and the coral red inner lips were swollen and pushed the outer lips open. She leaned back to a half lying down position with arms stiff behind her. “Fuck me Alan!” She moaned. “Fuckmefuckmefuckme!”

Alan drove himself into her. Her pussy was tight but she was so wet there was a soft squishing sound when he pushed into her. She half screamed half moaned as he drove deep into her and her legs rose to lock themselves around his waist as though to assure that he could not get away before he had given her all of himself. He reached up and ripped her blouse open and pushed her lacy white bra up out of the way. Her nipples stood like tiny fingers in the center of her small breasts, and when he pinched and rolled them between his fingers they grew harder and she gasped. “AHAHAHAH!”

Alan had made only a few strokes when he felt the rhythmic squeezing grip of her orgasm rippling up and down his cock and the sensation caused his own climax to explode. Time seemed to stand still but in seconds they collapsed and lay gasping.

“Ah, Alan, Alan,” Beth gasped. “I have wanted that since the first day I met you. I want more. More.”

Without a word Alan pulled out of her and she protested “No, No I want you in me! I want more now!”

Alan pulled Beth’s hips down so that they were at the edge of the stack of bags then dropped to his knees. He once more pulled her soaked panty crotch aside and this time ripped the leg hole open wide before pressing his mouth over her dripping pussy. He jabbed his tongue into her and the shivery power of it burst through her like electricity. The very idea of a man licking his own cum out of her caused her orgasm to explode in an instant, and when he began licking circles around the coral red pearl of her clit the orgasm’s began to come in waves until they were like one huge vibrating earthquake that went on and on and on until she was weak with the pleasure of it.

The next day Beth considered not going to work. She had been so bold and so randy that she was afraid Alan wouldn’t see her as anything but a sex toy, but there were still bills to be paid so she plucked up her courage, put on her black skirt, white blouse and medium high heels and went.

Alan met her at the door. “Beth…I don’t know…what…I mean, I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened. It was just…I’m sorry, and I’ll understand if you don’t want to work for me anymore.”

Beth blushed. “Alan, you don’t have anything to be sorry about. It was me. I was just such a … I don’t know. I wasn’t lying yesterday when I said I have wanted you since the first day, and I do want to work for you. I love your work and your greenhouse and—” she hesitated. “—and I think I might love you.” She blushed again.

Alan took her in his arms and kissed her.

THE END