1. Disgust


    Date: 10/5/2014, Categories: Straight Sex, Author: BradleyStoke, Rating: 6, Source: LushStories

    typhoid I think, but if young Benedict were also to die young I’d rather it was from a broken heart. Now, if you don’t mind…” “Of course, Sir Kenneth,” said Susan as the knight wandered off to chat to a party of society ladies who dressed much the same as she did, but with rather more conspicuous expense and rather less sartorial success. There wasn’t much even the best dress designers could do to add polish to such turds. Their bare arms had neither the elegant slenderness of her own nor a pleasing plumpness. Their necks didn’t spring swan-like through a pearl necklace to culminate in a smooth face framed by a healthy head of angular-cut straight hair that almost but never quite brushed on the shoulders. Their faces were either thrust up on thick necks and squashed beneath frayed blonde-dyed hair or sprouted like stalks of asparagus topped with a head of hair that appeared to have been borrowed from someone else. Benedict Cosgrove, mind you, wasn’t as much a crime to fashion and good taste as most of the corpulent, aging and mottled-skin gentlemen in the music room and accompanying salon, but he was scarcely graced with the looks of a movie star. However, as Susan steadily but deliberately weaved her way through the men (mostly) and women who greeted her stately progress, there was much she could already say about Mr Cosgrove. He had money. Lots of it, judging from the cut of his tailor-made suit and the apparent weight of his Swiss watch. And it was likely that he took ...
    moderate but not excessive exercise judging from his generally trim body and the healthy sheen of his lightly freckled skin. The best way to introduce yourself to someone to whom you’ve never actually been introduced before, Susan discovered, was to make your presence felt gradually rather than to break into a conversation presumptuously. And with so much mingling amongst guests it was a simple matter to walk straight up to the cellist who’d already attracted Mr Cosgrove’s attention and shower praises on him. “I’ve rarely heard a better rendition of Schubert’s Rosamunde Quartet ,” Susan declared, hoping that this wouldn’t be challenged or that her pronunciation as recalled from earlier in the evening wasn’t too unconvincing. “Wouldn’t you agree?” she added with a meaningful glance at Benedict Cosgrove while she tried to determine from his reaction whether he was gay, self-confident or socially awkward. “I’ve never heard better,” said the man, who from his inability to focus directly at her eyes was probably evidence that he wasn’t overly self-confident and almost certainly not gay. In this company of unprepossessing women, Susan stood out as a beauty guaranteed to generate a spark in the eyes of all but eunuchs and the most steadfast homosexuals. Susan now had to move for the kill. Someone else might net Mr Cosgrove or he might decide to quiz the cellist yet further. She slightly furrowed her brow. “Excuse me, sir,” she said directly to her target. “Haven’t we met before ...
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