<div class="floatleft">(https://pmcdeadline2.files.wordpress.com/2010/04/rachelweisz1.jpg)</div><br/><strong>Name:</strong>Erica Everett (Richards)<br/><strong>Status:</strong>Guest, Stockholder<br/><strong>Date | Time:</strong>January 5th, 2011 | Late Afternoon<br/><strong>Location:</strong>The Pierre, Penthouse.  NYC<br/><strong>Wearing:</strong>The finest of evening undergarmets :P<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Thomas<strong>Mentioned:</strong><br/><strong>Content Warning:</strong>An increasing amount of nakeness<hr/><br/>The low growl of his voice against her ear made her shudder and her hands curled at her sides, resisting the urge to reach back and pull him closer to her.  Was there a voice over part in this ad campaign of his? If so he should be featured because that husky timber, weighted with promise just made her want to say yes.  Didn't matter what he was asking.  Yes.  That thing.  Whatever you want.<br/><br/>It was not a reaction that she had expected when perfectly prompt and put together Thomas had first arrived at her hotel room.  She'd also been so very sure that he would pull back after fulfilling her request to undo the zipper, putting some distance between them and recentering on the reason for his visit, but then those long fingers slid against her throat, that slight pressure making her acutely aware of the way her heartbeat erratically there.  His other hand slid into the gaping back of the dress and she arched back into him with a soft pleased sound.<em>"Everything that's worth pursuing has risks..." </em>carefully stained lips quirked upward at that observation and she made no move to resist as his clever fingers and the demands of gravity saw the dark material of her dress sliding down her arms, hips, then onto a pool on the floor.<br/><br/>One hand reached back, her upraised arm drawing her body into an arc while fingers threaded into his hair, tightening ever so slightly as his stubble chafed against the pale skin of her neck. It was a definite contrast to the gentle warmth of his breath as he spoke, and one that she found herself enjoying immensely.  "What's life without a little risk humm?" her own voice had taken on a distinct husky edge.  If she felt any shame standing there before him in what amounted to elegant underware it didn't show.  There was no hunching or trying to cover herself.  No she<em>wanted</em>him to look, wanted him to admire difference between her soft near nakedness and his almost formal attire.  It was something that she was certainly enjoying!<br/><br/>Stepping out of the pool of cloth that was her dress she helpfully tilted her head, giving him better access to the line of her neck her nails running lightly against his scalp as she urged him closer.  She had to swallow once, then again to have any hope of making her voice even. "Your confidence isn't misplaced.  I'm willing to call this campaign wildly successful ... though it might not hurt to do a few market tests first.  This demographic can be notoriously hard to please as you've already pointed out."  Her body rubbed against his, the slow rocking circles of her hips grinding her ass back against his cock with a shameless eagerness that gave lie to the words she'd just spoken.  From the heavy-lidded way she watched their reflection in the mirror and the small needy sound which escaped from the back of her throat as his hands continued to play over her she seemed a woman well pleased with the world in general, but with him specifically.