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Giving Away Virginia Holton

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Today would have to wait, thought Marla Holton as she hurriedly gathered her bag and notebook in preparation for a no-holds-barred departure from her office at Prism Design. As general manager she had the privilege of arriving and leaving at will, though no one could ever fault her for not putting in a full day's and night's work. Usually Marla would announce to her secretary, Marian Leopold, that she was going somewhere, and then she would spend the next thirty to forty-five minutes circling the hall offices, talking with people who were just arriving, visiting and in general doing everything but departing.

Eventually her staff at Prism began to kid her about the fact that when she said she was leaving, she meant that she was cruising the office for no good reason at all. She good-naturedly giggled at her employees, many of whom had long since graduated from 'employee' to the coveted status of friend, and agreed with them. As time passed and it became even more difficult for "Elvis to leave the building," the staff began making bets as to how long it would actually take Marla to exit the building on Palm Beach's portion of the Intracoastal Waterway.

This time she wanted to be alone to think and realized that if she didn't leave right away, it being Wednesday, she probably would not do so at all. Moreover, she planned to meet Virginia for lunch. She pressed "Control-Alt-Delete" on her recently installed computer system, clicked on "Lock Computer," stepped to the door of her secretary's office and motioned for Marian to step into her room when she got off the telephone.

"I have no earthly idea what I'd do without her," she remarked to no one in particular as she sat down on her couch to wait for the young woman. She idly surveyed herself in the quiet of her office as she heard Marian's conversation wind down following an appointment with a photographer for a shoot the following week.

Waist-length thick, wiry white hair, loose and spread out in a massive cloud as usual, felt wonderfully sexy on her bare arms. She wore a form-hugging cranberry sweater without sleeves, a black leather micro-skirt and matching spike-heel leather shoes. The skirt felt marvelously sexy, for it was tight, butter-soft and reached just below the bottom curve of her shapely ass when she stood. She wore a delicate lacey half-bra beneath her sweater, one that supported her breasts while exposing nipples and deliciously rounded tops; under the tiny skirt there was nothing but her warm, smooth flesh. It occurred to her that she could not even recall the last time when she had worn either a thong or panties.

Her pussy hid beneath a curly, bluish-black starburst of thick gorgeous fur that began as a five-inch-wide strip below her navel and narrowed to a point just short of her anal cleft. When Virginia had left for the University of Texas, she was clean-shaven. In the four years since she had allowed her grass to grow in anticipation of Virginia's return. It was the erotic blessing enjoyed by her hair stylist, Brian, to sculpt this lush mat during her weekly visit to his salon.

Marla considered how she looked in public with everything she possessed on display, and experienced the usual sexual jolt. She thrilled to the sensation of exposure around others and her reputation for it. And she relished the weekly interludes with Brian who exercised consummate skill as he carefully groomed her fur after tending to her hair. Not that she'd allowed him to cut her white mane. Rather, she was aroused by his prolonged combing sessions and the way he fondled her striking explosion of hair. He also had such a delicious way of brushing her clit with a finger several times during his sensuous care of her muff. Before he finished his artwork he would ask her to roll over on her tummy. Then he continued his delicate ministrations upon the lower edge of her fur, shaving her entire anal cleft and ass to a glossy softness and gently toying with her tight little hole.

She giggled at herself as she thought of what she usually jokingly said to Brian after he performed these delightful services.

"Brian, I am so glad I found you and Sherryl here at Hair and There. I'm trying to show off your handiwork as often as I can without getting myself arrested. And I feel as if I should apologize for the fact that when you touch me and trim my fur I get wet. I hope it doesn't bother you...but it's your fault. "

"Marla," he shot back without missing a beat, "whatever problem you might present to me in the practice of my profession, that is certainly not one of them. Dear Lady, it is all I can do to be well mannered and keep my hands to myself when you're here. In the proper fashion, of course."

He smiled at her and winked.

"Why in the world would you want to keep your hands to yourself, Brian?" Marla would ask with an air of innocence. "Actually, I would find those hands remarkably pleasing and relaxing. Why not think about that over the weekend?"

He had always laughed with her, had always been a gentleman in every respect. Yet in her heart of hearts she did not at all find unpleasant the thought of his strong, gentle hands roving over her flesh, playing with her fur, sinking tenderly into her moist pussy. And when she was alone and allowed her imagination out to play she usually enjoyed a luscious little orgasm at the thought of Brian's hands caressing her intimate parts.

Her tiny leather skirt with its wide black belt and large but not garish gold buckle simply guaranteed that anyone near her could and would see everything Marla Holton possessed between her smooth muscular legs. If an observer looked carefully as she walked toward or away from her that person could see the extremities of her fur and a delicious hint of the lower curve of her ass. If she bent over or stooped for any reason, all those within visual range could feast their eyes on Marla's gorgeous fluff and her mouth-watering bottom.

When she sat, wherever she sat, nothing was covered other than a small area just below her waist and the tiny portion of her bottom visible from either side. The skirt was so short that her full bush and thighs were completely bare. Since she could never be described as demure, Marla rarely had keeping her legs together as item number one for any given day. It was not that she made a conscious decision, "Right now I'm going to expose myself," when she parted those marvelous legs. She just acted naturally, moving in whatever fashion was comfortable at the moment, and left others to enjoy her nakedness or be offended by it. It was not unknown for her to stretch out one leg while spreading the other, and almost all employees had at some time entered her office to find her with her legs spread far apart under her glass-and-steel desk that had no front. Obviously, the effect was instantly electric whether she was in an airport lounge or behind her desk working or hosting a meeting. Marla enormously enjoyed exposing herself. And it was definitely good publicity for her company.

As president of Prism Designs of Palm Beach, Florida, designer and manufacturer of sensuous and erotic clothing for men and women, Marla wore her own designs for business meetings and professional engagements, pleasure, personal contacts and promotional purposes. In other words, all the time. She achieved fame early-on in her company when she appeared at meetings wearing lovely jackets and sweaters over her tiny skirts...and nothing else beneath. Just because a gathering was a business meeting had no influence whatever over her enjoyment of baring herself casually. It took a while for her company managers to get used to this in meetings and some never accomplished that at all.

She always enjoyed a good laugh when she would show up at a meeting and find people in attendance who had no earthly purpose being there. But they really wanted to see what sort of sensuous display she would present. A running joke among those with whom Prism did business was that her meetings were the best attended in company history. Of course, since she had founded the company it didn't have all that much history. But there had been a lot of meetings and hers always had waiting lists.

No matter...she relished her casual eroticism and never even considered altering her form of dress.

In short, she was a powerfully sexual woman who was quite open about her sensuality and her desires. Admirers as well as those who despised her for this sensuality, for her success, or simply because they despised everyone who didn't despise Marla often referred to her as "Legs." Whether the name was intended as a compliment or a curse, Marla had legs to die for...and to get between.

She treasured this manifestation of her sexual appeal to men and women.

As she awaited Marian's entrance she reached into her bag and withdrew her rosebud, a stainless steel strawberry-shaped device a little more than three inches in length overall, topped by a short stalk with a deep blue sapphire stone set into its flat, circular top. "Rosebud" is the more cultured name for an anal plug worn by men and women for purposes of erotic decoration. The device can be worn in both sitting and standing positions and she frequently inserted one of these into her hole. It was one of Virginia's Pussy Pins creations, as were other decorative anal inserts and bars she enjoyed wearing in public.

With a light gel from a tiny bottle she carried Marla covered the gently pointed little bulb, leaned sideways to bare her hole, inserted it and slowly pressed the rosebud home. Once the bulb was seated inside her anus she relaxed. It felt quite pleasant for it gave a sensation of fullness and heaviness within her. She was aroused by the knowledge that when she bent over her decoration was completely visible.

"Yeah, you are an exhibitionist, Marla Holton. Enjoy it," she muttered with a smile as she heard Marian return the telephone to its cradle and rise from behind her no-front glass and steel office desk. She knocked for courtesy's sake, then entered Marla's office with her usual bright smile.

"Good morning, Marla," she began.

"Hello, Sweetheart," replied Marla. "I wanted to let you know what I'll be doing today just so you'll be aware in case you need to call my cell phone. Otherwise, I'm out for the day."

She gazed back at the young woman who had served her so capably for two years and who was one of her two lovers. Marian was a lesbian without broken-glass edges. She and Marla had become intimate about a year after they met at a conference in Atlanta. Her qualifications as a personnel specialist with her additional grasp of how computers worked and how to make them work when they didn't want to at first intrigued Marla, then convinced her that she needed the attractive young woman on her staff.

Only when Prism had hired her and moved Marian to Palm Beach did they actually become interested in each other. It happened gradually; though she did not advertise the fact among her staff most of them were aware of the relationship but thought little more of it. Moreover, unlike a great many people who simply could not handle being in love with someone under whom they must also work on a daily basis, Marian found it a simple matter to work loyally for the woman with whom she loved, lived and slept. Marla found to her joy that the same was true from her own position.

Marian took her usual position across from and in front of Marla, usual for obvious reasons. Muscles in Marla's legs rippled sensuously as she stretched them out, pulling her arms behind her head and locking her fingers there. She relaxed.

"You know that you simply set me on fire when you do that, don't you, Marla?" Marian laughed as she brashly admired her supervisor's tanned, silky calves and thighs.

"I like to do this. It excites me because it excites you, Darling. What do you like about it?"

"Well...hmmm...gee, now that's tough one, Ms Holton. Can I think about it and get back to you later?"

"Marian, you would say that," laughed Marla.

She gazed at the twenty-five year old woman before speaking further. Marian was a distinct asset to Prism Designs. She had an irrepressible good humor and could get along with everyone, an unusual gift in a time when many Americans are unhappy about something even when they aren't sure what it is. She had a softly oval-shaped face, brown eyes that smiled with her broad mouth, which was most of the time, and what Marla designated as a 'cute' nose. Marian was just about the same height as Marla with a deliciously full but not plump build and had the sexiest, most beautiful growth of body hair Marla had ever seen.

Her face gave no hint of the growth she had cultivated on her body. She wore her hair in a pageboy cut. But beneath her arms she possessed thatches of hair so dense that she had once told Marla she called them her "furry little animals." The underarm growth was lush and bushed out from beneath her arms when she was standing naturally or sitting at rest.

Marian had decided in college that she wanted to see what it was like to stop shaving and let her hair grow. So she did. The result was a dark covering on her legs, a majestic pussy bush that continued into and grew from her anal cleft, a sexy lighter growth on her tight butt, and a strip of dark hair up her abdomen to a point halfway between her navel and her breasts. The latter were just the right size to provide her with a Jiggle Factor of 7.5 on the ten point Jiggle Scale. Marian was quite satisfied with that rating.

Marla was especially aroused that Marian made no effort to conceal her body hair. This was unusual because most of the hairy women she'd known didn't display it as did Marian. She delighted in wearing short skirts and dresses, v-e-r-y tight short shorts and even hot pants, and when a reasonable opportunity didn't occur naturally she created one. The young woman was quite proud of her fur and enjoyed displaying it. Marian, in contrast to many other women who allowed the hair on their legs to flourish, decided to accentuate her hairy thighs by shaving her calves to just above her knees, very attractive knees at that. This added sensuality to her tight short shorts and mini- and micro-skirts. She certainly received her share of stares and pointed fingers, and, yes, Marla knew of a few instances when someone had made fun of Marian. But it all rolled off the good-humored brunette as if she were Teflon. She smiled, felt sexy, knew that others found her intensely seductive and continued displaying her assets with more tiny skirts and tight shorts.

Marla assessed her young associate before speaking. Marian wore a sleeveless blue blouse tucked into a pair of nicely cut light gray slacks that accentuated her ass. Matching open-toe block heel sandals of black leather completed her outfit. Of course, she could never keep from staring at the glossy fur bushing from beneath the young woman's arms. "I could simply eat you alive right now, Marian," she thought to herself. A delicious little tingle worked its way through her abdomen and down between her legs.

"Marian, in addition to our love for each other, we have talked often about the place of Virginia in my life, and the undeniable fact that she and Jason are growing to love each other." Her assistant nodded expectantly and she continued.

Virginia was Marla's stunning shemale son with whom she had been in love for years. Jason Sanders, Marla's 'boyfriend,' was a remarkable man of thirty-eight who had entered their lives the second year of their residence in Palm Beach. Marla chuckled silently to herself as she recalled Virginia's remark last weekend. They were lunching at the Pineapple Boat Restaurant in Lighthouse Beach after a trip to Miami's South Beach to show off several of Prism's latest risqué designs of casual wear and beach attire.

"Marla," Virginia began with an air of mock concern, "I am starting to get really upset about your intense sexual activities. Is it possible, O Most Sensuous Woman, that you are spreading yourself a bit thin, as it were, and need to back off from your erotic activities for a rest? Not with me, of course, but with everybody else?"

Before Marla could answer her shemale lover shook her great mass of long blonde hair and began to silently tick off on slender fingers the men and women, mostly women, with whom she was sexually involved. With each finger Virginia mouthed the name of that individual. When finished she brushed aside the heavy wave of hair that usually covered her right eye.

"Are you having fun?" Marla responded testily.

In fact, this was a ceremony the two of them carried on at least once each week, and neither of them minded it at all. It was one more means by which they expressed their deep affection for each other.

"Of course I am," replied Virginia with a straight face. "I believe you are over-worked, over-sexed, over-gifted with enough sensuous assets to make up for any ten normal people and under-relaxed considering the pressures on you. Furthermore, I am convinced that Jason plays a large part in your exhaustion. And finally, lots of people really get hot over women with muscles; you also bear the added burden of their gathered desires."

"Virginia, Darling, a., Jason and I have a very active but reasonable sexual relationship, and, b., you are one of the reasons I am over-sexed and over-worked. Do you realize that only two nights in the past month have passed without our tangling in bed? And I oughta call you the 'Blonde Typhoon' because you will simply not have any mercy on me and give me a break!"

Virginia smiled the broad, beautiful Emily Procter-like smile for which she had become famous throughout the company. "Of course I realize that. And of course I have no intention of giving you a break. Remember that famous line Louis L'Amour used in his westerns...all of which I have read, I must add..., 'If you open the ball you'd better be ready to dance.' Remember that?"

Virginia's mother nodded laboriously, "Yes, I remember. Only because you've told me just short of one-thousand times complete with novel name and page reference."

"Well, you started something with Prism and with me, Darling, something sexy and delicious and perfectly delightful, and you are at the center of it. You, Marla Holton, are everyone's image of the woman they'd like most to bed for a week. And you, my beautiful Mother, asked for this."

"I did not!"

"Yes, you did!"

"I didn't."

"You did."

"You're not going to win this time, Virginia."

"Yes, I am, Marla."

"You know, you gorgeous thing, you are at times simply weird."

"I'm NOT weird, Mother!" Virginia shot back.

"Yes, Darling, you really are."

With a grin tugging at each corner of her mouth, Virginia asked the question that Marla knew was coming.

"And why do you think I'm weird?"

"All right, anybody whose music preferences range from George Gershwin to Creedence Clearwater Revival to Little Anthony and the Zydeco House Rockers to elevator music to...oh, heavens, Virginia, ...to Bluegrass...I consider them so odd that they ought to be arrested as a public menace!"

Marla was working hard to suppress laughter. She failed. Virginia tried to look truly aggrieved and likewise missed her target. Instead, she leaned to her right toward her mother's chair, glared at the uninhibited display of Marla's black bush that her short skirt failed to conceal, and whispered, "I see your grass, Marla."

Since this response made no sense at all in the context of their talk, Marla looked at Virginia as if she'd lost her marbles.

"What?"

"I see your bush. Your lovely itty-bitty skirt doesn't cover you. I see you."

Virginia gently tapped a long-nailed finger on the table as if she had laid down a challenge and was awaiting a response.

"Somewhere in all of this I have missed something vital. We were talking about how weird you are. So what? Seeing my pussy in public has never bothered you before."

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