Logan woke up to a dull ache in his back and an expanse of brown wool over his eyes, illuminated only by the very faint stream of light seaping in from the edge of the fedora hat that lay precariously covering his face. The only sound in the room was the faint tap tap of a keyboard.
He wasn't sure how long he'd slept for, but he was sure it was long enough to count for his mandated time spent at the Yale Daily News each week—not that being there was so bad this year; not with the arrival of a certain spunky, blue-eyed, brunette at the desk across the way. He knew the girl was trouble, but she was also some mighty fine eye candy.
He pushed his rolling chair back a couple of inches and swung his legs off of the desk, sitting up and pulling the hat off of his face. Speak of the devil—the only person left in the news room was the very girl he'd just been thinking about—Rory Gilmore.
"Working hard?" he inquired with a smirk.
She looked up from her computer with a blank face. "I'd reply with 'hardly working?' but that would imply some level of effort on your part above and beyond your feeble attempts not to snore."
He shrugged. "I was tired. I had a very long night last night."
She rolled her brilliant baby blues and scoffed. "I'm sure. You must have managed to knock at least two or three girls off that line of yours."
"Why? You want to know how much longer before you make it to the front?"
She glared at him.
"I'll let you in on a little secret, Ace; all you gotta do is flash that pretty, little press pass of yours and you could get right in on the action—no wait necessary."
She scoffed again, hitting a few buttons on her computer before pushing her chair back and standing up. "I report on things that matter. You're old news, Huntzberger. Nothing the majority of the school hasn't heard about already." She began making her way around the desk.
"I'm sure you, being the Ace Reporter you are, could find a new spin on an old classic," he retorted.
Leaning back on her desk, she let out a sigh of contempt and glared at him, crossing her arms over her chest. It was then that Logan noticed what she was wearing—a 40's style tailored suit—slightly sexed up of course. The navy blue a-line skit came to just above her knees with a slit up the side that rose much higher than was decent. The v- neck of the matching blazer dipped deep, revealing the white blouse underneath, stretched taught against her chest, the first few buttons not even done up. Her hair was curled sophisticatedly and a blue and white topper hat sat perched atop her head. A strand of perfect, white pearls rested around her neck. His eyes traveled back to the desk and he noted that a type-writer sat where her computer had been just moments before.
"Classic?" she laughed, sitting herself up on her desk and crossing her long, lean legs. "The way I hear it, iy's barely even a blurb in the trends section, and even then it's a 'don't.'"
Geez, even Dream Rory knew how to kick him where it hurt. Still, he didn't let it deter him—it was his dream after all, he knew how it was going to end. He walked around his own desk until he was right in front of her. He leaned down, resting his hands on the wooden contraption she was sitting on.
"A real reporter doesn't listen to hear say—she goes out and gets the story for herself," he said huskily, his mouth just millimeters away from her ear. He pulled back just enough to watch her eyes darken with lust in response to the feel of his warm breath on her sensitive skin. He picked up his right hand, laying it on her knee. "What do you say, Ace? You want to investigate further?" His hand slid up under her skirt caressing her smooth, milky white thigh. She swallowed, and nodded her head nervously, her wide eyes never leaving his.
"Say it," he demanded.
"Yes," she whispered.
"Yes, Master and Commander." He smirked, and he felt his dick twitch at the words and the squeak in her voice. It was just as hot as he'd imagined it would be when he'd said it after their first—or was it second—meet.
His hand moved back down to her knee, uncrossing her legs before traveling back up the inside and rubbing his hand against her moistened panties. She moaned, and his eyes traveled to her mouth which gaped open slightly, her lips turned out into the sexiest pout he'd ever seen. He leaned down and kissed her senseless as his right hand continued its ministrations between her legs. Her own hands moved around his neck to pull his head to her own, increasing the intensity of the already bruising kiss.
"Geez, Ace," he muttered, pulling back after a while, gulping for air. "Who knew you could kiss like that."
"You should see all the other things I can do," she replied, suddenly emboldened, she raised her eyebrows suggestively. His pants got ten times tighter just thinking about the other things she could do, and he'd be damned if he was going to wait much longer to find out. He quickly moved both of his hands directly behind her knees, pulling her legs forward, and wrapping them around his waist. She lost her balance, falling backward so that she was resting on her forearms, looking up at him.
Both of his hands traveled up her skirt now, which was bunch high around her hips due to the sudden movements that had just occurred. His hands reached her waist and he grappled for the waist band of her panties, which for some odd reason, he just couldn't seem to find. He growled frustratedly.
Rory laughed. "Don't look at me," she said. "It's you're dream—you're the one who put me in this ridiculous get-up."
"And why did I do that again?" he sighed.
"I don't know, let's find out." She unwrapped her legs, setting them on the floor and pushing Logan back a little so she could stand up. She guided him around the desk and pushed him back into the chair. It rolled back a few inches from the momentum, and he grabbed for the desk, to stop his motion. He looked up and watched as she shed her jacket, then moved her hands to her waist to pull down the zipper on her skirt which subsequently fell to her ankles. She stepped out of it and kicked it to the side. Her hands immediately began tackling the tiny pearl buttons of her shirt, until the blouse gaped open completely and she shrugged it off her shoulders.
She stood in front of him then, dressed only in navy blue pumps, sheer leggings which ended mid-thigh with the presence of two white and navy blue garters, followed by a small expanse of naked skin, and a white corset with navy blue trim. The corset cinched in at the waist creating a perfect hour glass silhouette. The top half of her breasts spilled out over the top of the silk lingerie, exposing just a hint of rosy pink areola on the left.
He silently thanked his own imagination for the vision before him—he should have known not to question it. Sure, the corset was more difficult, but it was much more fun.
Scooting the chair forward a bit, Logan reached out and circled his arms around Rory, laying his hands flat on her ass and pulling her possessively towards him. She stumbled a few steps, before catching her balance with her hands on his shoulders and she stood directly between his legs. Her knee buckled a little, rubbing against his hardened member and making him groan loudly.
Her hands were still resting on his shoulders and she leaned down to kiss him as she climbed into his lap. She ground her hips into his, guiding her center along the length of his cock. He could feel her moaning into his mouth as she found her own pleasure against him.
"You like that, Ace. You like what you do to me?" he groaned.
"God, yes," she whispered. She took the opportunity of having their mouths apart to grab his sweater and pull it off of him. "I want to please you."
"You have no idea, Baby," he assured her.
She bent her head back down and began placing open mouth kisses all along his chest. He kept his arms wrapped around her, his fingers softly stroking her ass at the junction of silk and skin as she continued to dote on him, bringing her warm tongue and soft, sensual lips lower and lower. She climbed off of him, kneeling herself between his legs. Smiling up at him, she began working on his belt buckle, unable to prevent her hands from grazing along his dick as she did so. When she'd finished with his belt, he lifted his hips and allowed her to pull his pants and his boxers down to his ankles.
She gently ran a finger along the throbbing vein that twisted down his penis. He looked down at her questioningly. "I wouldn't be an Ace reporter if I didn't get all the details," she replied with a smirk.
His head lolled back and he allowed the sensations to wash over him as she continued to map out each and every landmark on his dick with her hands and tongue, while she gently rolled his balls around in her free hand. After a few minutes of tentative licks and gentle strokes, he suddenly felt her hand firmly grasp him at the base as the rest of his cock was suddenly enveloped in the warm, wet suction of her mouth. "Oh god," he moaned. She continued to suck on him and he swore he could see colors as he sat there with his eyes closed, coming closer and closer to the edge. "Fuck, Ace, yes."
It wasn't until just before he was ready to come, that he pulled her off of him, determined to know the feel of her pussy surrounding him.
She pouted up at him. "I wasn't finished." He had to take several deep breaths to keep just that look from spiraling him over the edge, but he somehow managed to calm himself down.
"Now, now, Ace. If you really want to know what I taste like that badly, I'm sure I could find some more time to squeeze you into my hectic schedule for another go. For now, though, I have other things in mind."
He helped her stand, then pushed her back onto the desk. He reached for one of the garters, and slowly dragged it, and the attached stocking, down her leg, then repeated the same on the other side.
He stood up, directing his attention to the soft flesh that spilled out of the top of the corset, sucking, and licking and biting, as his hands expertly undid the clasps that went down the front, exposing more and more of her breasts as he did so. He pealed the lingerie off of her, leaving her—finally—completely naked.
He pulled her to the edge of the desk, his dick pressed right up against her core.
"Do you take it back?" he asked, as she wriggled against him, whimpering at how close he was without being inside of her.
She opened her eyes and gave him a confused look.
"About me being barely a blurb? About me being a don't"
"God, yes. You're not a blurb—you're a whole fucking section," she insisted. "You're a do. God, please," she begged. "I didn't mean it, please, just fuck me; please, Logan!" she pleaded.
"Uh, uh, uh," he scolded, pressing her even further against his throbbing dick, letting her feel what she was missing.
She paused for a moment, not sure what she'd said wrong. She looked into his eyes which reflected the smirk he wore. She sighed at his arrogance, and his smirk grew even wider, knowing that she would succumb to it, nonetheless. "Please, Master and Commander," she corrected frustratedly.
He leaned in to kiss the look of annoyance off her face and finally, obligingly, thrust into her. She moaned into his mouth as he pulled out and thrust again. His hands roamed over her breasts and his tongue explored her mouth. She wrapped her legs tightly around him, pulling him in as deep as possible. They leaned back further onto the desk and she continued to wriggle and writhe underneath him as he pistoned into her again and again. She finally screamed out his name in ecstasy as she found her release. He followed almost immediately, the sounds of his name rolling off her lips, taking him the last little bit.
He opened his eyes, once again looking at the brown wool of his "press" hat, only this time the room wasn't quite so quiet. Slowly, reluctantly, he removed the hat from his eyes and sat up. The news room was completely full, including Rory who sat at her desk across from him. He looked around; everything seemed business as usual. He would have gotten up and left, but he wasn't in much position to stand up in a crowd. He pulled his chair further under the desk, trying to hide his current predicament.
Turning to the computer, he opened up a game of solitaire, all the while, unable to keep his peripheral vision off of Rory. After about ten minutes she shut down her computer, grabbed her bag, and headed for the exit. He couldn't help but let his gaze follow her, smirking at the memories of his dream.
She caught him staring and glowered at him. "In your dreams, Huntzberger," she declared. He tensed—was that just a saying, or could he possibly have done something to give away what he'd been dreaming about? He felt himself relax after a split second; if he had let out some unceremonious moan, the entire news room would have known it, not just her. She was just about to head out the door, but he turned around and grabbed her, pulling her down so that he could whisper to her, the smirk never leaving his face.
"And what a dream it was."