CHAPTER ONE

Ennui Explored

Jocelyn Silvers, as usual, was bored. Her hand crept to her full lips as she failed to stifle a yawn, and then returned to its customary position in her lap. She sat at her cubicle, hazel eyes faltering, lids difficult to keep open. She shook her head in a vain attempt to awaken herself, the brown curls of her hair bouncing about her shoulders. It was much shorter than it had been in college, but she was no longer a young girl. She was still full of dreams though, all of them unfulfilled. The incessant ringing of the phones in the center jangled her nerves to breaking, but despite the noise she felt that she could take a nap.

“Tired?” beside her, Billy interrupted the stillness of her lack of reverie, and she turned to him with irritation, and then forced a smile. At eighteen, he was ten years her junior – thin, skin not quite yet clear, but with an engaging grin and bright blue eyes that seemed misplaced in his natural coloring. He was cute in a sweet way, and he reminded her of one of her lovers in college. So open, so fresh. At the time, it wasn’t at all what she wanted, but she was willing to try anything now. She had been through a dry spell sexually, and while masturbation took off the edge, there was no substitute for the feel of someone inside her, someone creating a rhythm of passion that drove her to ecstasy. She didn’t know if she could expect that with Billy, but there was a part of her willing to try.

Amidst the loud buzzing of the phones, she snuck a look at his profile as he answered his. Hers rang and she answered it. She began the rote speak, at then made a moue with her lips when the caller hung up in her ear. She hated that.

“How rude,” she murmured, almost inaudibly.

Her gaze slipped to Billy again. Her imagination, always vivid, began to come to life as she watched him handle his customer with aplomb and an ease that belied his young years. There was something arresting about him, beyond his youth. Her fantasies took over and her eyes clouded as she allowed herself the luxury of daydreaming.

She rose, approached him. “I can’t stand it anymore,” she whispered as she leaned down and unzipped his pants. He sprung forth, hard and huge and ready for her. She was already wet, and pulled her skirt up around her waist, revealing her lack of underwear as she straddled him. He slid into her with ease, and she gasped at the full sensation and almost pain of such a large penis entering her. Shocked, yet obviously not objecting, Billy placed his hands around her waist and began to move her, up and down.

She leaned down to kiss his wide mouth, her tongue exploring his. He was remarkably talented as a kisser, and she felt her passion rise. As she continued her movement, his hands rose to grasp her full breasts, pinching the nipples hard, then caressing the soft, heavy globes.

Around them, her coworkers gathered, watching the show. Some laughed in derision, others stood in disapproval with their arms crossed and eyes hard, but most enjoyed the spectacle of their fellow telemarketer being ridden by the woman who sat next to him and said very little to any of them.

“Whore,” one woman condemned, as Jocelyn quickened her pace, feeling an inescapable sensation rising in her, bringing her closer and closer to completion. “Filthy whore.” The word drove her towards her goal.

“Oh, yes I am,” and then she came, crying out. Billy was brought to the brink by the tightening of the muscles of her vaginal walls around him and her vocal expression of pleasure, and he poured himself into her, fingers digging into her breasts, leaving delicious bruises that would be there for at least a week or so.

Jocelyn sat a moment, the boy still inside her, catching her breath and leaning against his thin chest. His heart was pounding. Finally, she rose, allowed her skirts to drop and faced her coworkers brazenly.

“Nothing more to see here,” she told them, “unless one of you wants a turn?” Her gaze fell on the woman who had called her a w