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The Survey

Misty MacAllister

MM Books

The Survey

Misty MacAllister

Copyright © 2018 by Misty MacAllister

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without prior written permission of the author/publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation to anyone bearing the same name or names. Any resemblance to individuals known or unknown to the author are purely coincidental.

If you have any comments, suggestions, reasonable/unreasonable requests, marriage proposals, or if you’re just lonely, feel free to send an email to

Erotica, Satin Delight

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two


Chapter One


“Go on, ring it,” Amanda chided herself.

She looked at the doorbell. When—if—she pressed the button, a buzzer would ring inside the house, announcing with bells that she was waiting on the stoop. Nervousness tickled her insides, like fingers dancing across piano keys, playing a giddy song in her stomach and a horny song between her legs.

She shifted from foot to foot on her high heels. She clutched the clipboard like it was a shield. She glanced up the street, then down the street. An older man was walking by the house. She caught his eye. He looked away quickly. He had been staring at her. She flushed, suddenly conscious of the feel of her clothes against her body: silk dress—sans bra—and satin panties. The man had been looking at her legs, or maybe her ass.

Looking, or staring, and maybe drooling a little.

Was that a good sign, or a bad one?

She squirmed, then she shuddered. Silk was supposed to feel smooth. Why did her dress feel like sandpaper rubbing across her nipples?

Because you should have worn a bra, her brain said.

The feeling stirring between her legs said differently.

She smoothed her dress with her free hand, letting her fingers press against her mons. She shivered, and not from the cold. If she didn’t ring the bell, she’d have to run home and get her rabbit between her legs.

“Time to pee, or get off the pot,” Amanda said to herself.

She rang the doorbell.


Rob was in mid pull-up when the doorbell buzzed. He took the bell as an excuse to stop. He let himself drop to the ground. His body was thrumming from the effort of his workout. The cessation of effort was like flipping a switch to a heater in his muscles. He flushed and sweat trickled down his stomach, tickling through the short hair before gathering on the waistband of his shorts.

The doorbell rang again.

He headed toward the door, idly looking for a shirt. He reached the door without finding one, and he pulled it opened.

He expected...

What had he expected?

Perhaps someone selling magazines. Maybe a package he didn’t know was coming. Or someone holy wanting to save him from the wicked world.

He didn’t expect a beautiful woman.

“Hello,” she said, rather formally.

She was wearing a short dress that showed off acres of legs. Nice legs, but it was the shadow outline of her nipples that caught his attention. They poked through the material like hard pebbles on a smooth beach. Or like ripe cherries ready to be plucked.

“Hi,” he said awkwardly.

“Mmm,” she purred.

He dragged his eyes up from her enthusiastic nipples and looked into her big brown eyes. She was wearing clunky horn-rimmed glasses, and the glasses were trained not on his eyes but decidedly downward. She was checking out his body, and she was licking her lips like a cat about to swallow a mouse.

He felt an erection stirring, and he shifted, knowing he’d never be able to hide his hard cock in his tiny gym shorts.

“I’m conducting a survey,” she said, and she looked up at him, holding out her clipboard as if it was a visa to a foreign land. “Do you have a moment to answer some questions?”

For one instant, he thought about saying no. There was a litany of reasons not to take the time to answer some boring questions—he was working out, he had to shower so he could go out later, it would be boring, to name only a few—but she leaned toward him. Her dress fell open. She wasn’t wearing a bra but she still managed an impressive amount of cleavage to go with those hard nipples, and his objections evaporated.

Ample cleavage, plus perky nipples, added up to one big YES!

“Sure,” he said. “I’d be happy to answer a few questions.”


She grinned happily—idiotically—but she couldn’t help herself. She hadn’t expected him to say yes. Really, she hadn’t, and now she wasn’t certain what to do.

He was looking down at her. Waiting.

She had to do something.

“Um,” she said, glancing up and down his hard body. “Maybe we could go inside?”

For a moment, he didn’t move.

Had she asked the wrong thing?

How quickly could a ‘yes’ become a ‘no’?

She didn’t want to find out. She had to get control. She had to climb up on top of this situation and make sure it went the way she wanted.

“We could sit down and be more comfortable,” she interjected into the silence.

“How long is this survey?” he asked.

“It should only take five or ten minutes to conduct,” she said, glancing at her clipboard.

He seemed to consider. She shifted nervously. His eyes fell and followed her nipples. She leaned toward him. He swallowed.

I’ve got you, she thought, repressing a grin.

“Ok,” he said, and he stepped back to let her in.

She stepped into the house, passing close enough to him to get a whiff of his scent. He was wearing light fragrance—probably body wash—and it mixed well with another scent—man. Her heart ticked up a beat. She liked the smell of man.

He closed the door behind her.

“Do you want something to drink?” he asked.

“A glass of water would be nice,” she said.

“Sure,” he said, walking past her. “Follow me.”

She followed him down a short hallway.

“Have you lived here long?” she asked.

“No,” he said. “Just a couple of months.”

“It looks really nice,” she said, her eyes on his butt in tiny shorts. It flexed and moved as he walked. He looked strong, like he had a lot of thrusting power. She swallowed.

“Thanks,” he said.

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