In my latest release, Fulfill me, Caitlyn is obsessed with getting into Nick Casey’s life and his pants. He’s a soap star and she has a plan to seduce him.
She will do anything to get into his life but one thing, one person always stops her. His annoying yet handsome PA Mike.
But there is more to Nick and to Mike than she could ever have first imagined. She ends up on a journey from one side of BDSM to the complete opposite and all the time she’s just looking for the man who can make her whole.
Although her ideas are sound the execution often runs into problems like in this excerpt where she gets close to Nick but then things go completely wrong:
Nick Casey is sitting less than six feet away from me. There is only one table between us, and it’s still empty. I stand up to move over and take it, when Tony leads a tall stick of a man over to it, and seats him there. The pole is talking to Nick and the woman accompanying him. Is it his date?
I look at her again, in her Dolce & Gabbana brown tweed suit and her expensive heels and her very, very old face. That can’t be his date, maybe it’s his—
“Mother, stop fussing please and sit down.”
He sounds as sexy, if not sexier in person. It’s bizarre how very real he sounds in life compared to on my telly. I guess the fact he’s not funneled through my flat screen speakers accounts for that. Now he’s here the plan can commence. Fuck, I’ve not felt this nervous in years. I think this beats even the time Mum volunteered me to star in a local am dram production. I spent my rehearsals snogging the leading man and not learning my lines and I completely fluffed up on stage and ran home in tears at intermission.
“I never see you!” I hear her deep, once sensual tones and I can hear the similarity to her son’s voice. “I miss you darling. Tell Mummy, tell Mummy everything.”
“Oh Mum.” he sighs. “I just work for, you know, that show you never watch and when I’m not doing that I’m sleeping.” He sits back in his chair and as Joey walks past he clicks his fingers. “Menu.”
Joey throws menus down onto the table and walks away, muttering under his breath.
“That is not what I’ve heard, Nicholas. I do read the papers you know, and not that tabloid junk either. I take the Times and still read about your high jinks.”
“They make it all up, Mum.” The stern look on his mother’s face must have spoken something to his heart as his expression loosens, his cheeks redden a little and he adds to his sentence. “Well, it’s all exaggerated at least. I have to go to some parties and awards, it’s part of my job, isn’t it Mike.”
The pole on the table in front nods then ducks his thin features back behind his menu.
“Here, for you Cara mia. Only the best, Enjoy!” Tony slips past me, as well as a man with such a beer belly can, and leaves a plate of steaming ravioli in front of me. I’ve lost my appetite now but I dip in and take a bite knowing Tony will be slighted if I don’t eat even a morsel.
For the moment I can’t hear the conversation from Nick’s table because Tony is talking excitedly to the tall fellow in front. It sounds like they’re both speaking Italian, no wonder Tony is bellowing. If I want to speak to Nick, ideally, I need to make my move now; if I play it right I might get an invite to their table. I’m good with mums – well, those other than my own, anyway.
I’ll walk over towards the ladies, which happily is across the other side of the terracotta walled restaurant, so I can wander past his table and then what? I think and take another bite of the tomato covered pasta. Oh, I know – I’ll stumble. I’m sure his chivalrous nature will make him leap to my aid.
My plan of action decided, I try to stand, but find my way blocked by Tony, still gesticulating and talking wildly.
“Excuse me Tony.” I try to squeeze past him but I’m too afraid of being hit with a flailing elbow to really push forward.
“Tony!” I bark a bit louder, and he looks at me. “Excuse me.”
He nods, and moves away from beside the seated beanpole who pushes his chair back. He knocks the leg into my ankle, and shakes me off balance. I fall unceremoniously to my knees.
“Oh, I’m so very sorry,” a voice babbles above me, “I’m terribly sorry, here, let me help you.” A thin, soft hand grabs around the top of my arm and pulls. I sit back on my heels and fix the bumbling buffoon with all my frustrated anger.
“I can stand up on my own, thank you.” I growl, noting the high red on his cheeks, the softness in his dark eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he continues to grip the top of my arm, and I try to shake out of his grasp. He lets go and I totter to my feet.
As I rise, my head connects with a serving tray then a pool of thick, tomato based soup slips down my arm and over my dress.
“Fuck!” I cry, stamping my foot in exasperation. Joey, who was holding the tray, is dabbing at me with a tea towel and the horrid man who tripped me is fussing around and making things worse.
“What‘s going on Mike?” Nick’s well known voice breaks into the madness.
“This poor young lady has had a little accident.” Mike coughs. “I think I‘m to blame actually.”
“Wasn‘t that my soup?” the reedy tones of Nick‘s mother rise through the barrier of bodies to my ears.
“I think you spilled my mum’s soup.” Nick says icily to Joey, the waiter, and soon Tony is here, fussing, flapping and apologising. Nick didn’t once look towards me, I mean who can blame him? I must look a fright covered in bright red soup. I slip between Tony and his son and head for the door and the sanctuary of my car, all the time cursing that rake of a man, Mike. If it wasn’t for him, I’d be with the man of my dreams right now.
But eventually luck lands firmly on Caitlyn’s side:
I excuse myself as early as I can from Sheila’s, hurrying out before the boring couple from the suburbs of Hell can try to give me their address and force me to attend one of their garden parties, or something else corny and middle classish.
Back in my flat I’m able to slip the little metallic gift from the gods out of my black bag and caress it in my hands. Lifting it to my nose, I swear I can detect a slight hint of citrus musk, which must be his aftershave.
I can feel the quality as I run my fingers lovingly over and around the slim rectangular block, then I stare into the window to Nick’s soul, or at least his social life. It’s an expensive phone, I can feel it when stroke the screen. I can’t bring myself to snoop too far as yet, I’ll leave that for when I get more desperate.
What I’m desperate for won’t be satisfied by a phone – or will it? As I slip down the ring tones, I see the vibrate option, press it and feel the powerful shudder of the device in my hand. Biting my lip, I slip the phone between my thighs and press it against my knickers. The shockwaves are delicious, but I pull it away, lifting it to my nose, wondering how he’d react to receive his phone back with my feminine scent on it. Nick would smell my pussy every time he made a call.
I can see it now, his tongue slipping between his lips to furtively lick the metallic case, longing to taste the source of the intoxicating smell.
I slip the vibrating package down my cheek bone and my neck then along the line of my plunging dress, and into my cleavage. I enjoy the feel of it between my breasts as I leave it lodged between my bra and boobs, reaching round me to slip the dress straps down and off my shoulders, then snapping the bra open with one hand whilst rescuing the phone with my other. As the dark bra falls away from my lightly tanned breasts I gently sweep the phone across from one nipple to the other, teasing them to arousal.
My nipples resonate on the same frequency as the phone, and when I can’t take it any more I stand up and shrug my way completely out of my dress, then shimmy my lace knickers down to my knees, before sitting back on my creamy suede sofa. I let the phone slide down my stomach and into the warm “v” between my thighs.
I use the long fingers of my right hand to stroke between my engorged, slick lips. I pull them apart, and feel the sticky juices pulling against me as I do. I dip my finger inside, stretching my soft walls a little. My breath catches. I imagine Nick’s tongue dipping inside to taste my honey. Slipping the slick finger higher, I circle my clit. In my mind’s eye Nicks head is between my thighs, bringing me closer and closer to heaven. I slip his phone between my lips, the solid bulk only contacting a few places at once, so I move it up and down and from side to side, gasping in complete ecstasy when it connects with my clit.
I glide it down, its vibrations too intense and take my clit between my fingers, feeling the vibrations on my buttocks. Squirming in my seat, I manage to move it between my cheeks, and get an illicit thrill from feeling the motion on the rim of my anus, knowing what it is that strokes me there and who will use it next.
My body undulates, my breathing quickens and my flesh flushes. I can feel the ecstasy climbing higher and higher like a rocketing firework, screaming into the air. I pick up the phone and press it between my lips, pressing the corner into my hungering cunt and the image of it being Nick’s heavy cock pushes me over the edge. The firework explodes and my body thunders and shudders and shakes until my ears ring with pleasure— rhythmically like a—shit! His phone is ringing
Gasping, I panic. What do I do? What do I do?
My voice of obsessional reason yells at me loudly: “ANSWER IT!”
So I answer it attempting to steady my gasping post-orgasmic breathing at the same time.
“Hello?” I stutter, completely off balance, mentally and physically. I’m almost hanging off the edge of my sofa.
“Who’s this?” The familiar male voice replies. I recognise it but my reply formulates itself as if I didn’t.
“This is Caitlyn Jones, Who’s this?”
“Caitlyn!” He exclaims, “This is Nick, we had dinner together this evening.”
I love how he phrases that, it sounds so intimate.
“Oh yes. So this is your phone!”
“Yes, yes it is. I must have left it at Sheila’s.” His voice was animated, like when he was flirting with Doris in episode 378, just before she fell through the rotten floorboards and died impaled on a discarded curtain pole in the cellar.
“I picked it up, thinking it was mine, I have the exact same model.” Mental note to self: pick up a mobile on my lunch tomorrow that’s exactly like the one covered in my cunt juices that I’m holding to my ear and belongs to the delicious Nick Casey. Ah, I love my life.
“Isn’t that a coincidence. I’m glad my phone ended up in such beautiful, I mean capable, hands.”
He’s flirting. Nick Casey is really flirting with me.
“Aww, you’re sweet.” I giggle, crossing my legs and becoming more and more aware that I’m naked.
“So, Caitlyn, I really need to get my phone back. When can I meet you to get it?” My mind goes crazy with ideas but none issue forth from my mouth. So, Nick continues, “How about we meet up somewhere after I finish work?”
“Sure,” I reply, “that sounds cool, except I’ve got to go to some guy’s leaving do tomorrow night – I can’t not go, he’s my superior.”
“I understand.” I can hear the nod of his head reflected in his voice, “Maybe I could crash the party?” he suggests, hesitantly.
“Sure, that’d be cool. Do you know Jimmy’s in the high street?”
“Yes, I do believe I do.”
“Well, we’ll be there from 7 pm.” I am nibbling on my lip, afraid to hope that this might be it, this might be my first date with a heart throb. The man I’ve lusted over from afar.
“I think I can be there for like, seven thirty, eight o’clock ish?”
“That would be perfect, I’ll make sure I give you your phone back then, not mine.”
He laughs deeply and I giggle like a tipsy teen.
“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow night then, bye Caitlyn.”
I put the phone down and jump to my feet. “Nick. Nick Casey, I’m going to meet up with him tomorrow. I spoke to him on the phone today!” I dance around, chanting in a sing-song way. “I’m going to seduce him, I’m going to kiss him, I’m going to fuck him and make him mine. Oh yeah.”
If you want to find out what happens when she does go on a date with Nick you’ll nee to Pick up Fulfill Me.
You probably won’t end up being obsessed. Probably.