Tamara - The Case Of The (corrupted) Suits (7) (Patreon)

(Damn! Where Is The Zipper? - Movimento 3)

Part 7-1/2

Three hours after Frank’s phone call, Tamara and Sam were sitting on the agency’s private plane, which was taking them to the Imperial Capital. Under normal circumstances, Tamara would be gazing into the beauty of the infinite blue, thinking about the resemblance of something or other, triggered by the form of some clouds in the sky. Trying to avoid any conversation or exchanging a glance with her partner. But this time that was not the case.

"What’s going on, Sam?" she asked him, in a tone of false indignation, ceasing to hide that she was not just looking out the window. She had noticed that Sam was watching her closely.

"I'm sorry. . . I. . .", he said ducking his head a little, while bringing his right hand to his neck, pretending to scratch it, as he was unsure how to begin, but without losing eye contact. "I wanted. . . to ask you. . . one thing. . . yesterday you. . ."

"I've already told Frank, I. . ." she replied to Sam, squinting her eyes a little, as she always did when she talked to him. But instead of staring into his eyes, as she always did, her eyes wandered to his biceps, big, firm, and looking like it could be used as a anvil. Some strange naughty thoughts appeared in her mind, confusing her a bit.

"I. . . left early, because. . . I realised sometime ago that I needed to do some work on myself, that I needed to pamper myself a bit, and I didn't want to miss my first beauty spa in 10 years. Part of an all-inclusive package, especially these expensive extensions and the bio face treatment. I think I've more than earned it."

Tamara pointed to her face, having regained her coolness again, trying to forget that arm, which, for a split second, she had imagined to be another muscle. She narrowed her eyes, lowering her brows defiantly, signalling that the subject was discussed enough. Without realizing it she started to play with a strand of her hair.

"Uuh. . . yes," was all Sam knew how to answer, turning in his seat again. . . knowing, if he was sincere, it would sound like he was a stalker. "Nothing to it, just. . . nothing. I'm sorry." He had definitively noticed that Tamara looked different than usual, much younger and a lot more sexy.

Tamara turned her face back to the window, and not really knowing why, she liked that attention she was getting from Sam. Something that, around 48 hours earlier would have seemed disgusting. Now it helped her to relax, because for hours she had been worried that he would find out that she was wearing two special pieces of clothing. If this happened they could lock her up in a capsule in a state of induced coma.

Disguisedly she, from time to time, acted as if she were scratching her belly, but the truth was, she needed to feel it again, the latex top hidden under her blouse. Or she pretended to make herself fit more comfortably on the seat, to notice the friction from her panties.

Just three hours earlier, Tamara’s willpower had only prevailed until she had managed to take off her latex stockings. Just then she noticed how her body regained some of the years it was supposed to look like. She saw how the smooth, silky skin of a young girl barely twenty-five years old turned into the face of a woman ten years older.

Not only was it her appearance that returned in part to its original state, but she also felt the sense of power within the world and the vitality she felt at that moment was waning. Something had changed inside her too, in her personality. . . she didn’t really know what or why. But part of her knew, she didn’t want to go back to being the woman who dedicated herself, body, mind and soul, to her work. That’s why Tamara kept wearing her new panties and the latex top.

Upon boarding the plane, all contact, all movement led toward her being in a semi-aroused state. The clothes were just as tight. But now she was noticing something new, it felt as if the two clothes had cooled and as if they were moving. At the same time they both moved a little closer together and something seemed to grow and to want to get inside her.

Tamara uncrossed her legs, firmly resting her heels on the floor, ready to get up and go to the bathroom. As she walked down the aisle, she felt Sam’s gaze on her again, as she finally let out her smile of satisfaction at it. She knew that he was looking at her and so she started to wiggle her hips. The idea of doing it, just for fun, to torture her partner’s perverted mind, delighted her.

Sam was feeling confused, ever since she had left last night, he had wanted to ask her an important question. But when he saw her, he couldn’t, he hadn’t seen Tamara like that for years. She felt different, although she seemed a little nervous, she looked relaxed instead of always tense. He hadn’t seen her smile in eight years. And in the last two hours he had been surprised to see the grimace of a smile several times on her dark red carmine lips. Her eyes looked more hypnotic and irresistible with that makeup. No matter how hard he tried this time, he couldn’t stop feeling like a stalker, as he couldn’t stop looking at her.

Tamara’s antipathy towards him, her constant seriousness, helped him keep his distance from her. He hadn’t even noticed that, for the first time, he was seeing Tamara wearing high heels for work, together with what seemed to be sheer red stockings. She was also wearing a pretty coloured blouse, instead of a plain white shirt. The red and black patterned blouse matched perfectly with her new hair. Also the tight Palazzo pants, never seen on her before, gave her an even prettier ass than usual. That sight reminded him that he’d been wanting to grab it for years. He had been thinking of kissing her lips and releasing all his desires for the last hours.

to be continued. . .