Wish Me Up, Rub Me Down [A Desires of the Lamp Tale] Page 2

  Anya shivered. Any minute now she expected the dream bubble to burst. Then Phil would scream at her for spacing out during the meeting.

  "Number three,” Makin said. He closed his eyes, and then laughed. “Oh, you are a bad little girl. I love it. She wants to be tied and spanked."

  "No. No. It's just a fantasy. Stop. Please.” Oh, please don't stop. Anuis was now kissing her buttocks, his hands on her hips as his lips grazed her skin through the soft material of the harem pants.

  "Now that is a pleasurable idea,” Anuis said.

  "Yes, I agree with you, my friend,” Makin said.

  "What else?” Anuis’ voice was deep. “I can't wait much longer."

  "No. No, please. Stop it! Stop it!” She wanted to stop thinking about things, wanted to close her mind off to him. But everything she thought of, he said aloud, much to her embarrassment.

  "Don't deny it,” Makin said. “I see it in your mind. She wants to take part in an orgy."

  He stood and his clothes disappeared. He was beautifully naked and Anya inhaled sharply. He stroked his cock and walked toward her.

  "No. I, oh my lord, what's happening?"

  Anuis stood beside her. He too was naked now, his hand on his cock.

  "You must touch us,” Makin's voice was demanding. “That shows your willingness. Take our shafts in your hands."

  "No.” She looked toward Phil, who still talked as if Makin was sitting right next to him. “I can't. I'm not that type of girl. I just..."

  "Touch us.” The desire in Anuis’ voice almost drove her over the edge. “Stroke us. We want you. Show us that you want us."

  She wanted to. She wanted to do it so badly she thought she would explode. But this wasn't real. She needed to see a therapist, or more to the point, a psychiatrist who could prescribe some heavy medication.

  Makin's hands joined Anuis’ in caressing her body.

  "Touch us. Stroke us. Show us what you desire.” Their voices sounded as one and she shivered. She reached out her hands, then pulled them back.

  Then she reached again. This time, they both took a hand and guided it down to their shafts. She gripped them, rubbing the length, reveling in the moans of delight her movements brought.

  When both their hands disappeared between her legs she shivered.

  "Oh, yes.” She ground her hips against them as she continued to stroke their massive members. Anuis’ soft fingers parted her folds, slipping inside her wetness, while Makin stroked her clit. It took mere seconds for her to come. She screamed so loudly, she was sure the whole office would come running to see what was going on. Moments later, she felt warm fluid coat both of her hands. The men beside her were panting and their hips undulated as she held their cocks firm.

  Her eyes widened. What had just happened? Had she just jacked off two guys who had provided her with the most intense orgasm she'd ever had? This was the most incredible fantasy ever.

  Anuis tipped her head toward him, claiming her lips in a sweet, soft kiss. When he was done, Makin turned her, his lips harsh and demanding against her own.

  They stepped in front of her. When she blinked, they were both dressed again, their suits impeccable. As if nothing happened, they both moved to the table and sat back down. Anya looked down at herself. Her business suit had replaced the belly dancer outfit.

  "So, what do you think, Anya?” Phil lifted a smile to her. “I think they have some great ideas, and I know the three of you are going to work well together. So what do you say gentlemen, shall we draw up the papers?"

  "Most definitely,” Makin replied. “But we want only Anya to work on the account."

  "Done.” Phil nodded as Anya's head swam. She really had to call that psychiatrist. Today.

  "Of course,” Anya said. “I'm more than happy to work with you gentlemen. What's the name of your company?"

  "Aladdin's,” Makin said with a grin. “Catchy, don't you think?"

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  Chapter Three

  "So, chubs, I hear you have a new client. Or should I say new clients?” Aliya Baban sat down next to Anya in the break room. “Rumor has it they're gorgeous."

  "Yes, I do.” Anya fixed a sweet smile on her. “And yes, they are. Jealous?"

  "Oh, don't worry. I've already told Phil that I need to work with them. After all, you're so overloaded already with the Baxter account that you can't seem to find a decent idea for him. Pity. So, it won't be long before Phil takes the account away from you. It would be a shame for you to bring two accounts down in flames."

  Anya laughed. “You may have asked, but I know for a fact that the two requested me, personally. So you can just, um, kiss my ass?"

  Aliya's eyes narrowed and then smiled. “Don't push me, chubby. You're out of your league when it comes to me, and you know it."

  "Oh really? Is that why I'm number one on the leader board, and you're what, number four?"

  "It's not my fault the last campaign tanked. It was those idiots I was forced to work with. I'll do this one alone, and push you to the bottom of the pack."

  "Dream on. This one is mine.” Thank the heavens.

  Anya's body shivered at the memory of the fantasy she'd had about Anuis and Makin. It had seemed so very real, their hands on her, and her hands on them. Of course they matched exactly the two men she'd fantasized about Saturday while wearing the belly-dancer outfit. She figured that could mean only one thing: Despite her misgivings about how horribly she was always treated in a relationship, she needed to find a flesh-and-blood man. And she needed to find him fast.

  If she was so starved for affection that she was starting to have fantasies about clients, then something was wrong. Her newest customers would probably be horrified if they knew what she'd thought about while they were discussing ways to make their business well known, and more profitable.

  "Are you even listening to me?"

  "No.” Anya took a bite of her apple and shook her head. “Go away."

  "Don't think I'm not going to fight for them. I'm sick of playing second chair to you."

  Anya stood and threw the trash from her lunch into the can. “You mean fourth chair, right? Get over it, Aliya. Your pretty face is not enough to make you successful in this business. You have to have talent, too. And the ability to take responsibility when something fails, instead of blaming it on others."

  Aliya stood quickly, a furious look spreading across her face. She clenched her fists, then seemed to gain hold of her emotions. “When the lamp makers fail because of you, they'll come running to me. Mark my words."

  "Doubt it.” Anya swept from the room before Aliya could say anything else. She wasn't worried about her ability to come up with slogans for ads. Several were already swimming around in her mind.

  She was worried about keeping her cool around the two handsome men she was now working for. Both of them were extremely gorgeous, and would want a woman like Aliya, small and svelte, with her beautiful face and gorgeous body.

  Anya had to find a way to fight whatever was taking her over. She was pretty sure the problem was that it had been so long since she'd been in a relationship, but it wasn't that easy to find someone to hook up with. There were men who liked a curvaceous woman, but she never seemed to find them.

  She took a deep breath and sat down behind her desk, putting her head in her hands. Maybe she should consider taking the rest of the afternoon off. Maybe, just maybe, she should find a psychiatrist and talk to her. It would have to be a “her". She couldn't talk about things like this with a man. Truthfully, she couldn't talk about them with a woman she didn't know, either.

  Sheri would listen, and then laugh. Only Heather would truly listen and offer helpful suggestions. She picked up the phone, hoping her longtime friend was at home and not out carpooling or whatever it was mothers did during the day.

  When she answered on the second ring, Anya sighed. “Hi."

  "Hey, gorgeous. What's up?"

  "Are you coming into the city tonight?"
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  "No. Jake's out of town on a business trip until Thursday and I have the kids. Why, is something wrong?"

  "I was just hoping for a dinner companion."

  "What's wrong, sweetie? I can tell something's bugging you."

  "I just had a strange thing happen, and I need someone to talk to, but if you can't make it to town, that's okay."

  "Nonsense. My mother called this morning and asked us to let the kids stay overnight some night this week. I'll call and see if tonight's good for her, then I'll call you back. If she says yes, you have to promise me pizza."

  "Done. But I want to talk about heavy stuff, so it'll have to be delivery."

  "Now I'm really intrigued. I'll take the train and meet you at your house around six."

  * * * *

  "So, were they really hung?” Heather wiggled her eyebrows as she took a bite of her pizza.

  "Are you listening to me? I had a fantasy about two clients. While I was in a business meeting! Something's wrong with me!"

  "Nothing wrong that getting laid wouldn't cure. And you didn't answer my question.” She wiggled her brows again.

  "Yes, they were. It was a fantasy, they wouldn't be short and stubby."

  Heather's bark of laughter made Anya smile. She'd been nervous all day, terrified that her two fantasy men would drop by and strip her again. Maybe ‘terrified’ wasn't the right word. More like nervous excitement.

  She took a bite of her own pizza.

  "You say these two men came to you Saturday, too? At the shop? Why didn't you say anything?"

  "Are you kidding me? What was I suppose to say? I don't talk about my fantasies a lot. It was just the outfit I was wearing. It gave me ideas."

  "Bull. Listen to me. It had nothing to do with the outfits and everything to do with the fact that all you do is work. Do you know how hard it was for Sheri and me to convince you to come on that trip with us? You have got to start letting go or you're going to explode. Maybe next time you'll undress them for real, and then you'll lose your job."

  Anya put her slice back on her plate and picked up her beer. She took a deep swig. “So, what should I do? Go and pick someone up and bring him back here?"

  "Heavens, no! You should let me introduce you to Jake's friend, Bobby. He's a nice guy. I told him all about you."

  "Did you tell him that I weigh as much as he does?"

  "He doesn't care. Bobby's not superficial. He's really a good person.” When Anya didn't answer, Heather said, “Please?"

  "I don't know. Let me think about it. I just ... think I'm losing it."

  "You're not losing it. You're frustrated with your personal life, and it's bleeding over into your work life. You need to let yourself feel happiness again."

  "And you think Bobby can provide it?"

  "You could make each other happy trying, that's for sure.” Heather gave her a sympathetic smile. “Don't you think you owe it to yourself?"

  "I don't know. Don't say anything to him until I decide."

  "Sure. Except I've already mentioned you to him."

  "Be truthful, did you tell him I'm fat?"

  Heather's gaze dropped down.

  "I thought not. Thanks, but no thanks."

  "Sweetie, when he meets you, he'll love you."

  Anya shook her head.

  Heather sighed. “How about the belly dancing class? I'm sure we could find one here in the city that you could attend.” She jumped up and ran for the kitchen, then came back out, phone book in hand. After several seconds of leafing through the pages, she gave a triumphant yell. “Here we go. And in your neighborhood, too."

  Heather dove for the phone and was dialing before Anya could stop her. “What are you doing?"

  "Seeing if there's one meeting tonight, so we can at least go and watch."

  "No. Give me that phone.” Anya lunged for it, but Heather quickly stepped away.

  Anya settled onto the couch as she heard Heather inquire about belly dancing classes. She called three different studios before Anya heard, “You do? Terrific."

  Anya groaned and turned her face into the cushions.

  "There's one at eight, and it's in your neighborhood. Let's go. It's a few blocks from here, but we can hoof it over, and then take a cab back."

  Anya lifted her gaze to her friend. “No."

  "Yes, you're going. I mean it, Anya. Get up and put your shoes on, now.” When Anya didn't move, Heather put her hands on her hips. “Right now, young lady."

  "I hate it when you use the Mom voice."

  "You're going to hate a lot more if I have to call Sheri. We'll drag you there together."

  "Fine.” Anya stood and moved toward her bedroom. “But I don't have to like it."

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  Chapter Four

  Heather's idea of a few blocks and Anya's were two different things. The dance studio ended up being nineteen blocks from her house, which was not such a great distance in New York, Anya supposed. By the time they arrived it was just after eight.

  Heather pulled her up the stairs and they checked the building directory.

  "Second floor, studio two,” Heather said. “Let's go."

  They hurried up the remaining stairs, getting to the door just as the instructor was shutting it. Anya was happy to see she wasn't a svelte Barbie, but was a woman with curves, even if she wasn't fat.

  "Students?” She smiled at the two of them.

  "Actually, we were hoping we could maybe audit the class, to see if we want to take it?"

  "Of course. Come on in. We're always happy to have new converts."

  There were about seven women in the room, all dressed in loose linen outfits. Anya's fears lessened more when she saw that two of them were her size. They all smiled and introductions were made.

  "If you have questions let me know,” the instructor, Annette, said. “Belly dancing is fun. It's sensuous, it's magical and playful and it's a great work out."

  She clapped her hands and stepped in front of the class. “Ladies, we're going to warm up and open our chakras. Remember to stay loose and enjoy yourselves. Just relax."

  "What's a chakra?” She whispered to Heather, but maybe Annette was a mind reader.

  "Chakras are energy centers in the body. For you to truly enjoy, and for your body to perform as it should, your chakras should be open. Breathe and up. Breathe and down.” She repeated her words as she lifted her hands above her head, placed her hands together and then lowered them down to her chest and out. The class followed suit and then they changed the movements a little, pointing their hands down and moving them out.

  By the time they were moving their arms and hips, Anya was mesmerized. They all looked so sensual, so graceful. There was no way she could look that way, or feel that way. But the more she watched them, the more she wanted to be like them. Her shoulders started to sway, the movement snaking down her body to her hips.

  "Do you like it?” Annette's question startled her. She straightened guilty, realizing she'd been dancing with them.

  "Yes, I think I do. But my body..."

  She let the words trail off.

  "Nonsense. Being a female is about curves and sensuality. American society has taught us that women should be stick figures. The man in your life will love the fact that you're learning to belly dance."

  "There is no man in my life.” Only two figments of my imagination that gave me a great orgasm this morning.

  "Then do it for yourself. It's a great workout, and it will help you become in tune with yourself, both physically and mentally. Trust me."

  Heather stood beside her, quiet for the first time that day. Anya knew she had to make the decision on her own. She'd loved watching the ladies, who were still dancing. She loved the fact they were giggling and obviously enjoying themselves. Plus, this would give her something to do at night, something that would take her mind off the fact she didn't have a man. Hopefully it would make it so she didn't fantasize about clients anymore.

  "How much a
re the classes?"

  "We meet three nights a week, Monday, Wednesday and Thursday. Classes are a hundred and twenty-five a week. The class started two weeks ago, but I think we can get you caught up, if you want to come in tomorrow, I can give you a private class. You'll need some looser clothing, though. I can give you the name of a store to go to."

  "Great. Sign me up."

  * * * *

  Anya threw herself on her bed and crossed her arm over her eyes. She'd gone with Heather to the train station, saw her aboard, and then taken a cab home. She'd half expected her over-active imagination to conjure Anuis and Makin into the living room. But they weren't waiting for her.

  She sat up and took the card Annette had given her from her purse. The store the instructor had recommended was in the Village, and Anya would have to leave early from work tomorrow to get some workout clothes and still make it to the dance studio on time. Since she never left early, she would have to find an excuse.

  She supposed she could tell the boss she was going to the doctor, or that she had an appointment with ... uh, who? Maybe tell him—

  "Tell him you are learning to dance, to pleasure yourself and your lovers."

  She jerked her head toward the sound. Makin stood in the doorway. He wore the loose linen pants he'd worn on Saturday.

  Anuis pushed his way past Makin and winked. “Hello, little one. I can't wait to see you dance.” He wore the same type of pants but his long black hair hung loose tonight, draping over his shoulders.

  "No. No. You're not real. Oh lord, I'm losing my mind."

  "Anya, my sweet. Relax.” Makin's voice was soft. “We mean you no harm."

  "Except to drive me crazy."

  Anuis knelt next to her on the bed. “Crazy with passion. Admit that you need us. That you want us."

  "Of course I do, otherwise I wouldn't have fantasized about you."

  Anuis rubbed her shoulders. “Do I feel like a fantasy?"

  "Yes, you do.” She jerked and yelped when Makin appeared next to her, lounging on his side and floating on the air.