Cinderella - Sex Stories

Cinderella

... out a friend. Anything you want.” Emma looked at the ceiling, smiling. “ A VIP ticket to the Black and White Ball, an outfit to go with it, and a no-holds-barred night with Alex Kane. And a unicorn, to finish such a sensible list.” Oliver finished his bagel with a decisive bite. “Done.” “Yeah,” Emma laughed. “OK.” “No, really. Done.” “It stops being funny when you overdo it.” “I overdo everything.” Oliver lay down his knife and fork, steepled his hands together. “Now let me tell you why your crazy wish is going to take nothing more than a couple of phone calls.” Surely he can’t be… is he? “What are you talking about?” “Sweetie, I’m not just in town to see you. Lovely as you undoubtedly are. As it happens, I've managed to land myself a rather interesting job…” I cannot fucking believe I’m doing this. Emma sat in the back of the limousine, watching the back of the taciturn driver’s head. Oh, Oliver. I don’t know whether to kill you, or start a religion in your name. Maybe both . She cast her mind back. Ten hours; ten hours since she’d been sitting in that brunch spot in her tattered jeans, listening to Oliver explaining how her dream would become a reality. And now here she was, squeezed into a dress that had probably cost about three month’s rent - typical Oliver, hiding the price tags - and a mask, a feathered mask! Emma wanted to take it off. But still, Brianna’s going to be there. Better to go incognito. Except I’ll be drawing attention to myself anyway, because I cannot ...

... walk in these - Ah, yes. The shoes. Oliver had been most… insistent about the shoes, about this type of shoe. Black, forbiddingly high, made of what seemed like thousands of thin leather straps hung with sharp little spikes. They looked like the upmarket version of something you’d find in a very specialist magazine. Despite Emma’s questioning, Oliver had remained infuriatingly vague. “When you’re part of an entourage,” he had said, “you get to know your client very well indeed. Especially when your client has… specialist interests.” Emma looked at the shoes; the high, harsh, shining shoes. A new, unaccustomed feeling of power rose through her. So this is what Alex Kane likes. I wonder what else he likes? She thought of herself; her own urges, carefully repressed under a mound of college work and work-work and family strife. I wonder what else I like? “We’re here, ma’am.” Emma had to stifle a laugh - ma’am! Like I’m somebody! - as the car came to a halt. Through the tinted windows she could see flashing lights, a sea of smartphones as well as professional cameras. Oh, Oliver, why are you working and not here? “I thought… I thought there’d be a queue?” “There is.” The driver gestured with his head. “Back there. But VIPs skip it.” “Yes… yes. I skip it. Because I’m a VIP. That’s what I am.” Now the driver was eyeing her curiously. “You ok, ma’am?” Emma had a sudden flashback to earlier that day, crying in a changing room of a store so fancy she’d been scared to walk by it, let ...