BRITNEY – A Lady’s Companion Final

“Tiffany” as soon as they were home. “I’m about to burst.” She’d been deliberately drinking extra since deciding to give Britney a golden shower.

“Dress off and in the pool.” Tiffany ordered as soon as they were home. “I’m about to burst.” She’d been deliberately drinking extra since deciding to give Britney a golden shower.

Britney didn’t need any encouragement to get naked. Her dress landed on the lobby table, her shoes were kicked into alternate corners and her hold-ups were being rolled down her legs before Tiffany had finished speaking.

“Ready.” Britney announced brightly, twirling, stark naked on the tiled floor then skipping off in the direction of the pool. Before taking the plunge, she detoured as far as the bar and grabbed a bottle of wine and two goblets. Setting them on the poolside, she slid into the water, surfacing as Tiffany arrived, bare as the day she was born.

“Lie here.” Tiffany pointed at the floor in front of her. Britney levitated out of the water and lay down at Tiffany feet, smiling beatifically. She hadn’t had so much pervy fun since saying good-bye to Helen and now she was actually getting paid for doing stuff she’d have freely done just for kicks. Tiffany straddled her and squatted, cutting loose as soon as her pussy was over Britney’s face.

It was a torrent too. Tiffany really had been about to burst. Britney opened her mouth wide and caught what she could but it was going everywhere and she had to close her eyes, which was a downer because she wanted to watch too. She swallowed a couple of times but Tiffany just kept peeing and it overflowed Britney’s mouth and puddled on the tiles. When the deluge slowed to a trickle then stopped, Britney was drenched but still grinning up at Tiffany.

“Thank you.” Britney said politely. “I needed that! A little degradation to keep me in my place.”

“You are such a little pervert.” Tiffany reached down and patted Britney’s wet cheek.

“Says the woman who just pissed in my mouth.”

“There is that. It’s funny though. You don’t behave like a submissive most of the time, then … this.”

“I’m not a sub. I’ll just do anything for kicks – mine or yours. I could call you mistress if you’d like.”

“God! No! I’d have to start wearing all that tacky PVC and leather. You’re doing just fine as it is: Better than fine. I like your creative approach to your work.”

“Thanks.”

“Now get in that pool. You stink of piss. I’ll hose this off”. Tiffany stood and walked over to the coiled hose on the wall. Britney rolled off the edge with a splash.

“I need to pee.” Britney announced as they sipped wine together at the deep end.

“No, and I can prove it.” Britney let go of her empty glass, which floated away as she got out of the pool and fetched the telephone from on top of the bar. She set it on the side of the pool and slipped back in before dialling. She held the handset, waiting for an answer.

“Hi Helen.” Britney said. Tiffany moved closer to hear.

“Honey Brit! Hi!” Helen squealed excitedly and loud enough for Tiffany to hear too. “What you up to, Baby?”

“I’ve got a job as a P.A.”

“Boring!”

“Not at all. It’s a cover story.”

“For the CIA? You have to blow spies in the hope they’ll spill more than their seed?”

“Close, but no cigar. I’m a very personal assistant to a rich-bitch who likes pussy instead of plastic.” Britney explained. Tiffany wore an expression of mock-shock at the rich-bitch jibe.

“Ok… How old is she?”

“A couple of years older than us. She’s really sexy. I let her pick me up the other night and fucked her senseless without realizing it was a job interview.”

“Cool! It’s about time you got into sex for money. Talent like yours is worth paying for.”

“My boss thinks so too. She’s right here. Can I put you on speaker phone?”

“Sure.”

Britney pushed the speaker button and replaced the handset. “That’s better. Helen, this is Tiffany.”

“Hello Helen.” Tiffany said, a little self-consciously. “I’ve been hearing as lot about you.”

“All sexy I hope.” Helen’s replied.

“Oh certainly.”

“That’s why I called you. I’ve been telling tales on you but I’m not getting believed even though I showed her how to play Cheerleader Fantasy this morning.”

“How many points did you get?” Helen asked immediately.

“At least a hundred.”

“No way!”

“Yess way! A half full bus, a 60+ mark, full finger penetration at climax, wood and a stroke off.”

“Girlfriend, you’re amazing!”

“But Tiffany still doubts my veracity.”

“So you want corroboration?”

“Yes Please.”

“Sure. What tales did you tell her?”

“Who did we have a threesome with in the Lost Highway Motel last spring break?”

“You told her about that?”

“Sorry. Yes, it just sort of slipped out.”

“Ok. You’re forgiven. That was the time we both fucked my Daddy.”

Tiffany really hadn’t believed the whole incest story. She was shocked at how casually this Helen confirmed it.

“And after he’d butt-fucked me?”

“After he’d butt-fucked us, I stuck my tongue up your ass and got a mouthful of Daddy’s seed which should by rights have been in my ass anyway because you’d already had one load off him. Greedy slut. Did you tell her that bit?”

“Yep.” Britney looked at Tiffany shocked expression and stuck her tongue out at her.

“So what else did you tell her?”

“Well I just told her about the peeing like a man thing.”

“Let me guess. The bachelor party where we both let the groom butt-fuck us? Have you told Tiffany any stories that don’t involve us getting taken up the ass?”

“That’s the one. And yes, I have, but our asses do have a busy social life.”

“And did you tell her the rest of the bachelors wanted a go and we agreed as long as we got to go to the wedding.”

“I hadn’t got that far in the story.” Britney admitted.

“So you didn’t tell how we both ate cream pies all night because nobody likes sloppy seconds and then had to rush home and dress smartly so we could go to the wedding?”

“No.”

“Oh, but that’s the best bit. Tiffany? We sat at the back of the church knickerless and sore assed and watched this guy making his vows and, after the service, introduced ourselves to the bride as colleagues of the groom.

“What brought that story up, anyway? Were you bragging how much fun your ass has at parties?”

“Not really. Tiffany already knows that. She managed a fist and four fingers this morning.”

“Tiffany. Promise me you’ll take a picture if you ever get two fists in at once. I never managed it but you might have smaller hands and I’d love to see both Honey Brit’s holes cinched around somebody’s wrists.”

“Sure. And, to answer your question, the story of the Bachelor party came up because we’re in the pool and Britney was showing me how to pee like a man.”

“You have a pool? Wow! Private pools have such possibilities. Did she pee in the pool? I’d spank the little slut for that!”

“Helen! Don’t give her ideas! Anyway, what’s a little piss in a few thousand gallons of pool water? I got about a quart straight in the mouth.”

“Oh? Into water sports?”

“No. She just likes pissing on me. I don’t get to shoot back.”

“Well that’s what you have to put up with when you’re a pro. Although the few of my gentlemen… Tiffany? Did Britney tell you I’m an escort girl?”

“She did.”

“Actually, I said you were a whore.” Britney corrected.

“Good. What was I saying?”

“About your gentlemen.”

“Yes, most of them who’re into water sports like to give it and get it but, hey, it’s your party”.

“Honey Brit, it’s great to hear you’re having a good time but I’ve gotta love you and leave you. I have a date tonight and he’s still tied to the bed, waiting for his enema.”

“Where do you find them? Goodnight Helen… And thanks for saving my reputation.”

“Yes. Thank you Helen.” Tiffany added. “It’s been a pleasure.”

“The pleasure’s all mine. Always and all ways. Goodnight.”

Britney switched the phone off and turned to Tiffany with an I-told-you-so grin.

“So it’s all true?”

“Every word.”

“Then you deserve an apology. Will a good licking do?”

“My ass too?” Britney asked, hopefully.

“If you want, Honey Brit.” Tiffany was inclined to indulge her.

* * * * *

“Have you been to New York before?” Tiffany asked as they packed Britney’s bag. Tiffany didn’t need to pack. She had an extensive wardrobe in their Manhattan apartment.

“Only once, with Helen and Eric – this guy we used to party with – we went to stay at his parents’ place while they were in Europe. We spent a lot of time naked and Eric spent a lot of time pointing his cameras at us girls.”

“I bet you enjoyed that.” It was impossible to imagine that Britney didn’t like being photographed naked.

“Oh yeah! The porn and the arty stuff. I enjoy both. That one’s my favourite.” Britney pointed to a framed monochrome print on her dresser. It was a flower. When Tiffany looked properly, the centre of the orchid was parted labia minora. It was a clever bit of photoshopping and, now she studied it, obviously Brit’s pussy.

“It’s beautiful. A perfect portrait of you.”

“Eric had a poster of it in his room back in the frat house.”

“And where is this Eric now?”

“Come to think of it, he’s probably in New York. Will I have any free time on this trip? I’d love to pay him a surprise visit.”

“Actually, I’d like to meet him. Do you think he would do something like this of me?” Tiffany thought a copy of the orchid picture would make a good gift for Dominic.

“Photograph your pussy? Why on earth would he not want to do that? He’s a guy: Looking at pussy is his favourite thing to do with his eyes.”

“Good.” Tiffany put down the photograph and carried on selecting what Britney should pack.

“And then, of course, there was the subway game.” Britney had a cutting somewhere of the story about her in the New York Times. It didn’t name her, she was just one of ‘two unidentified females’.

“Why do I suspect this is not just a variation on the bus game?” Tiffany could see Britney was itching to tell her another tale of erotic daring deeds.

“No. And it was definitely a one time only performance. We had an apartment to stay in but when Helen lost her purse, with both our credit cards, our spending money and out tickets back to Boston, we were stranded in Manhattan. It isn’t an easy place to be penniless.”

“I can imagine. Didn’t Eric have money?”

“No. His father keeps him on a very short financial leash. Kept – I should say. Helen solved that problem for him.”

“How?”

“It’s a long story but the short version is Helen fucked his father.”

“Oh, I have to hear the long version now.”

“Ok. Eric’s father is a Harvard alumnus and a trustee. He came to Boston for graduation and booked himself an escort – Helen. When she realized who was fucking her, she took a snapshot of his credit card between her labia and gave Eric the photo, which in turn gave Eric enough leverage to loosen his father’s grip on money because his father’s new wife probably wouldn’t appreciate her husband slurping semen out of a whore’s ass hole even if it was his own semen.”

“So Eric blackmailed his father.”

“Yes.” Britney had no problem with that. She liked Eric, didn’t like his father and had no morals to speak of.

“Fair enough. You were telling me about the subway game.”

“I was. We were broke and had no tickets back to Boston until I had an idea. It’s amazing how lack of money sharpens the creative skills. Perhaps that’s why so many great artists lived in poverty.”

“And your idea was?” Tiffany was impatient to hear this.

“Pole dancing on the subway.”

“Real pole dancing?” Like she had to ask.

“We got dressed up in stockings, thongs, five inch heels and long overcoats and Eric brought his ghetto blaster along for the music. We went into a subway car just as the evening rush was easing – still pretty full but nobody standing – Eric turned on the music and held our coats.

“I did my routine around the pole between the doors while Helen walked up and down the car in her see-through thong, persuading gentlemen to stuff money into her underwear. When they stopped paying, we moved into the next car and started over. After eight stops, the cops were waiting. Eric stayed on the train and stuffed the ghetto blaster into the holdall we’d put the cash in. Helen and I left via different doors with a couple of helpful guys who didn’t mind having a pretty girl on their arm. We breezed right by the cops and all it cost me was a kiss for my rescuer.”

“You know, I remember hearing something about that. There was a spate of it.”

“I wouldn’t call it a spate. We hit a different train every night for a week. We learned from our mistakes and got off before the cops turned up.”

“And how much did you make?”

“About twenty five hundred over the week.”

“More than enough to get you back to college.”

“Oh, we had enough for that the first night, but we were having so much fun.”

“I’ll bet! While we’re on the subject of having so much fun, put this on.” Tiffany tossed Britney the very tight very short dress she’d bought her yesterday. “Our cab will be here in half an hour and there are lots of escalators at the airport.”

“Oh goodie!” Britney pulled the dress over her head and looked at her reflection in the mirror. It fit like a paint job, moulding around her tits without squashing them and showing her perky nipples to full advantage. She loved it.

* * * * *

“And what are you studying at college?” They were having dinner with a couple of Tiffany’s sorority sisters whom she’d kept in touch with after college and Britney was being politely interrogated: Very politely.

Britney had picked up the lezzie vibe as soon as she’d met them. These women were sisters in another way too, Brit was certain. Had Tiffany come to dinner and brought dessert, namely, Britney? She wondered if Tiffany was testing her by not warning her. Well, while being passed around Tiffany’s pals wasn’t part of the deal, Brit was up for it.

“I’m reading art history at Harvard. This should have been my final year, but I took a year out to research my thesis. I was going to go to Europe and backpack around some of the galleries and collections there. That’s why being Tiffany’s P.A. is the perfect job for me. I’ll get to visit Europe in style, and get paid for it.” And let’s not mention the cunnilingus just yet, Britney added mentally. She noticed the change in body language as the women reappraised her at the mention of a good school.

“Harvard?” Said the one called Jo-Jo, clearly surprised that Britney wasn’t studying nail polishing at community college.

“What are you writing your thesis on, Sweetie?” Asked Kate, clearly the alpha female of this group.

“O Tempora! O mores!” Britney gave them the title and watched their blank expressions. No Latin scholars here then. And they’d thought she was a bimbo? “O times! O morals!” she translated. “A comparison of the division in moral acceptability between art and life throughout the ages.”

“I’m no wiser, Sweetie.” Kate opined. Jo-Jo didn’t say a word. Well, better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to speak and remove all doubt.

“Why nudity in art has always been more acceptable than nudity in public.” Tiffany had heard it all already so she simplified it for her friends.

“Is it?” Said Jo-Jo, who was clearly hard of thinking. Britney didn’t hold that against her though because she had the prettiest Titian hair – that’s red to you girls, Britney mentally edited herself.

“If you stand in an art gallery, looking at a statue of a nude woman, nobody cares. But just try standing naked in front of a statue of a dressed woman!” Brit had! Security had been surprisingly quick, but not quick enough. Eric had photographed it before they surrounded her. She’d explained to the curator that she was testing a theory for her college work and he’d been quite understanding provided she promised not to pull any more stunts in his gallery. She sent him a sighed copy of the photo as a thank you.

“Well of course they’re different.” Jo-Jo’s tone said she was stating the obvious.

“But why?” Britney flashed her sweetest smile at the red head. “That’s what I’m researching.”

“So you’re going to Europe to look at dirty pictures?” Kate lightened the mood before Jo-Jo got really petulant.

“And to meet with some living artists who’re blurring the traditional boundary between art and life. And to try and prove my theories by experiment.”

“Experiment?” Kate was intrigued.

“Like the statue experiment I just mentioned. That one didn’t last long enough for us to gauge peoples’ responses, but it did prove one thing: There really is a difference between marble and flesh in the public perception.”

“You actually went naked in an art gallery?” Kate was incredulous. Tiffany was unsurprised. Jo-Jo was open mouthed.

“Oh yes. You can’t just advance an opinion without proof to back it up.” Britney sipped her wine and looked innocent.

“Incredible.” Kate said. “Tiffany, she’s a treasure. Where did you find her?”

“In a gay club.” Tiffany said matter-of-factly. It was the proof Britney had been waiting for. These women clearly knew Tiffany was into girls and, by their reaction, were also in Sappho’s sorority.

“Surprise!” Britney flung herself into Eric’s arms as the door opened. She and Tiffany had called by on the off chance, as Britney knew how to get to the apartment but didn’t have a phone number for it. She’d smiled sweetly at the concierge who remembered her – few men forgot meeting Britney – and confirmed that, yes, young Mr Kruppa was in.

“Mmm…mmmmm…mm…m…mmmmm.” He pulled back a moment from the no-holds-barred kiss “I said, you brought me a present, what’s her name?” Then over Brit’s shoulder to Tiffany. “Hi. I’m Eric. Brit’s told you all about me.”

“Tiffany.” She introduced herself. “And yes, she has.”

“And she’s not a present, you libidinous centaur.” Britney let go of him. “She’s my new boss so be nice.”

“Centaur?” Eric frowned at her. Then the penny dropped. “Oh… Half man, half horse?”

“Clever boy.” Britney patted his cheek. “Are your folks here?”

“No. Just me.”

“Good.” Britney kicked off her shoes and peeled her frock over her head. “We’ve come to ask for a favour, but as Tiffany’s loaded, I suggest you charge her a small fortune.”

“What are you going on about, Brit?” He was looking her up and down shamelessly.

“Would you take my portrait, like the one you did of Britney?” Tiffany cut to the chase.

“Which one? I’ve taken thousands of pictures of Brit.”

“The orchid picture.” Brit narrowed it down. She was stroking his thigh and Tiffany could see a ridge forming along most of its length. Despite being married to Dominic, she was impressed.

“Stop it Brit.” He playfully pushed away her hand. “Do you often get naked in front of your boss?”

“All the time. I’m her personal sex toy. Tiffany’s taken out a one year exclusive contract on my pussy.”

“Oh? Does Helen know?”

“Of course. She’s my role model.”

“Lesbian?” Eric asked Tiffany.

“Bi. My husband likes to watch me with girls so we keep one as a pet. Easier to housetrain than dogs.”

“This one isn’t. Last time she was here, she peed on a Persian rug.” He patted Brit’s bottom. She had her hand inside his jeans now and the ridge was massive.

“Will you do the portrait of me?” Tiffany didn’t mind their banter but she did want to know if she was going to get what she wanted when the kids had finished playing word games.

“Portrait. I like that. Yes, it is a portrait really, seeing as how Britney’s pussy is such a defining characteristic. And, yes, I’ll take your picture. Now?”

“No time like the present. Do you have somewhere I can get undressed?”

“No. I want to watch you undress. I’m totally unprofessional, Tiffany. I’ll ogle your cunt, almost certainly get a hard-on, take far more photos than I need to and will, I guarantee, jerk off to them at some point in the not too distant future. Still want to do this?”

“Yes, but bear in mind that my husband is the only other man ever to see me naked. Even my gynaecologist is female. So if I’m nervous, bear with me.”

“Jeez! What d’you go telling him that for? Now the big guy’s bound to pound his pud over you.”

“True.” Eric admitted. “And I’d like to get a few shots of Britney at work if you don’t mind.”

“Can we consider that your fee?”

“I think that’s fair.” Eric nodded. Brit undid the last button on his jeans and pulled them down.

“Good God!” Tiffany eyes were like saucers. “Brit really didn’t exaggerate.”

“As if I would.” Britney looked wounded by the mere suggestion. “Ain’t it grand?”

Eric grinned goofily and stepped out of his trousers. Pulling his shirt off too, he got as naked as Britney. “Your turn.” He said to Tiffany, watching her with evident anticipation while Britney stroked his massive cock to full temper.

Tiffany took a deep breath and pushed down her slacks. She took a moment to consider the point of no return then yanked her panties down too. There! No turning back now. The rest of her clothes came off quickly, with Brit’s unnecessary but welcome help. Once Tiffany was naked, Eric led them through from the lobby into one of the bedrooms. One wall was entirely taken up by an eight foot high close-up of a, by the looks of it, recently used vagina. It wasn’t one image but a collage of perhaps a hundred and fifty A4 prints, stuck over each other but from the door that was hardly noticeable. Tiffany stood staring at it.

“Have you met Helen?” Eric noticed her fixation.

“Not yet.” Tiffany dragged her eyes off the wall.

“That’s her. I bought an extreme macro lens and needed something to try it on. I had to write some special software to divide the screen into a hundred and sixty nine boxes and illuminate them in sequence with a gap between each illumination. Then, using a projector, I imposed the grid on Helen and focused on each square as it lit up on her skin. It took about a day to set up and fifteen minutes to photograph. The most uncomfortable fifteen minutes of Helen’s life – so she says – because to keep her from moving, I strapped her spread legs to a brass bedstead.”

“It’s amazing.” Tiffany was sincerely impressed.

“And you got to fuck Helen first.” Britney pointed out the obvious to Eric. “That’s hardly easier on the poor girl than holding her legs open for a quarter hour.”

“Sometime, Brit, I’m gonna do the same to you and put your pussy on that wall so I can sleep between my two favourite girls every night.”

“You’ll have to wait a year for that: I’m under an exclusive contract. Not like that whore!” Britney hooked a thumb at the picture wall.

“We’ll see.” Eric dismissed the matter and picked up one of his cameras. “On the bed, I think, facing the window. There’s good light this morning.” He dropped into photographer mode, ignoring the baton-like erection swinging to and fro as he snapped away, getting closer and closer until he was kneeling between Tiffany’s feet, lens only inches from her pussy. “Ok, hold it open for me.” He said, casually.

“I’ll do that.” Britney volunteered. She spread Maria’s labia and pinched her inner lips gently, pulling them apart. After a few clicks of the camera she let go and they started to slowly close, but not so slowly Eric didn’t get three perfect shots.

“Does being nervous always make you wet?” Eric asked his subject.

“No.” Tiffany couldn’t see him with Britney in the way but she could feel how close he was to her and it was… disconcerting to be naked with this man.

“Then I’m guessing you’re excited, because you’re dripping. Lift her knees up, Brit.”

“Why?” Tiffany asked as she raised her knees and felt Britney take hold of them.

“Because I want to see if that drip will reach your ass hole.” Eric said nonchalantly.

“Oh.” Tiffany felt her face hot. Was she blushing?

“That’s it.” Eric stood up and put his camera down on the dresser. His erection was even stiffer looking now, pointing jauntily upward as he swung it around. “You can put you legs down again if you want. He looked down as if noticing his erection for the first time. He stroked it casually as he turned back to the girls. “I’ll have to find the right flower for you. Your lips are darker than Britney’s. There’s a florist in the Village that has a good selection of orchids. I’ll pop down there this afternoon.”

“Thank you.” Tiffany got off the bed, found a tissue and wiped herself. She would have asked Britney to do the honours but… not in front of this stranger. She felt she needed her clothes back. Without asking, she walked back to the lobby to retrieve them. Britney and Eric followed. Brit noticed Eric admiring Tiffany’s ass as she walked along.

“Forget it Big Boy. Even her husband doesn’t go there and he’s not packing that.” She flicked at his erection.

“Story of my life.” Eric observed wistfully. He’d had a hard time losing his cherry because, despite a reputation built on locker room rumours that made hot girls dare each other to date him, Whenever he’d whipped out his schlong, they’d got scared of it. He learned quickly though and started making sure they got their panties off before he unzipped Moby – as the first girl to set eyes on it had dubbed it – He still didn’t get laid but at least he was seeing and feeling some of the finest pussy his high school had to offer. It took a year of this before Rosie Boyce finally got his cherry.

Since then, he’d had more luck, but Moby still scared off a lot of girls. And then he’d met Helen and Honey Brit: The only girls ever to risk anal with him.

“Oh, poor boy. It’s a shame to leave you in this state.” Britney stood close enough to press herself against Eric, sandwiching his hard-on between their bare abdomens. “But I must.” She hugged him, pressing her cheek against his shoulder.

“Brit?” Maria was dressed already.

“Yes, Tiffany?” She turned her face to look at her boss.

“Take the afternoon off. I think you’ve earned it. I’ll expect you for dinner at eight.” Tiffany smiled indulgently at her.

“Are you sure?” Britney wasn’t even sure. Did Tiffany really mean she could stay here with Eric?

“The way I see it, if I hold you to the exclusivity thing, I’ll lose you. You’d just get bored. I think a few little adventures along the way will keep things… interesting. Don’t you agree?”

“What? Oh, yes. Absolutely!” Britney let go of Eric to go and hug Tiffany. “Thank you.” She whispered between kisses.

“Just don’t be late for dinner. Goodbye Eric. It was a pleasure to meet you.” Tiffany took another long look at his cock, sighed and said “I can’t wait to see how my portrait turns out.”

“Bye Tiffany. It was a pleasure, wasn’t it?” He drew Britney back to him. “And thanks for the lone of your other pussy.” He ran his hand over Brit’s mons veneris.

“Enjoy it.” Turning, Tiffany opened the door to let herself out. “Oh, and Brit?”

“Yes Tiffany?”

“After Dinner, We shall discuss a suitable punishment for your infidelity.” Tiffany winked and closed the door. She smiled to herself all the way out of the building. Whatever Britney did to make it up to her, she was sure she’d enjoy it.

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