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Misty MacAllister

MM Books


Misty MacAllister

Copyright © 2017 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, Casual Encounters

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five


Chapter One

Bruce stepped off the empty subway car onto an empty platform. It was ten forty-five, and the morning commuters were already busy at work and the lunchtime rush hadn’t begun. He was happy for the peace and quiet. Normally, he loved a busy morning commute. He enjoyed the energy of the city, but today he needed to relax. He was about to have the most important interview of his life and he desperately didn’t want to flub it.

He slipped his attaché under his arm, pulled down the cuff of his dress shirt, straightened his tie, and buttoned his jacket. His warbled reflection in a stainless steel panel on the wall looked pretty good, he thought. He turned his head just a fraction and smiled winningly at himself.

He was ready.

His interview with the CEO of Bloom Advertising, the hottest boutique advertising firm in the city, was at twelve thirty. He had to ace it. If he could get just a toe in the door of Bloom, he could... he could... he could escape the cubicle he had begun to view as a jail cell.

He stood up straight.

“Positive thinking,” he told his warbled reflection. “You will succeed!”

“That’s the attitude,” someone said from behind him.

Bruce jumped as a woman strode past his warbled reflection. He hadn’t heard her approach over the noise of the train pulling away, but she had heard him trying to psyche himself up.

He was mortified.

“Um…” he stammered, searching his brain for some kind of witty rejoinder, but she had already walked away.

Click, click, click, she strutted, heading toward the escalator on outrageously high heels.

He swallowed—embarrassment was a full meal—and he watched her...bottom.

She was wearing a short, flared skirt that swayed from side to side as she went. He watched for a moment, mesmerized by the motion, then he trotted after her, halving the distance between them before she reached the steep escalator.

I can’t just stay down here, he told himself, because he wasn’t chasing after her. He wasn’t a creepy stalker. No, he had no intention of ogling some woman on the street. He was heading to his interview.

She started gliding up and away, toward the light from the street. He reached the escalator and climbed, taking two steps at a time, until he was just six steps below her. He looked up toward the street, but his eyes slid over her heels.

He stopped moving.

She was standing with one foot on one step and her other foot on the next step. She was wearing white stockings. He could see the outline of her strong calf. His eyes slid upward, over the back of her knee, and up to her muscled thighs.

If those thighs wrapped around you, you would know it, he thought, taking a step closer.

And he saw she wasn’t wearing stockings. She was wearing thigh-highs. He could see where the lace top ended just at the crease of her butt.

He licked his lips, and shifted from foot to foot. He was instantly hard, his erection pressing furiously against his trousers.

Her butt was round and captured by shimmering white satin. He could see the wrinkles in the satin as the fabric stretched across her glorious bottom. She stepped up to the next step, and her weight shifted sending a delightful ripple through her juicy ass.

He took another step closer, so his face was level with her beautiful bottom. She shifted her feet farther apart and reached back, slowly sliding her fingers up the back of her thigh. Her fingers moved up, pushing up the short skirt and showing off a flash of silvery white satin. Bruce watched, transfixed, as she hooked a finger in the seam of her satin panties and pulled them up, out, and then down. The satin stretched, pulled taut across her butt, and he thought he actually heard the fabric rubbing across her smooth skin.

The adjustment only took a second, but it was almost long enough to make him cum in his pants.

She stepped off the escalator with a delightful jiggle, and then his view of her wonderful bum disappeared as he rose higher. She stood for a moment, backlit by the morning light, a wonderful view that he drank in, then she turned—the skirt flaring around her, like an opening flower, giving him another peek of her panty-clad ass—and she strode away.

Bruce followed her down the sidewalk.

I’m not following her, he told himself. I’m no stalker. We’re just going the same way.

There was a chic little pastry shop on the same block as Bloom’s offices. He had found it online and had planned on going there before the interview. He wanted to get a feel for the area, to acclimate, so to speak, and it just happened that the woman—the gorgeous woman with the swaying hips, firm thighs, shapely calves, and round bottom—was going the same way.

Was that his fault?

His heart skipped a beat—and let’s be honest, his already hard cock throbbed—when she turned into the pastry shop.

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Chapter Two

The pastry shop was très chic. It had white brick walls, the ceiling was vaulted, and there were funky chandeliers circled by wire balls. The place couldn’t have been busier. All the tables were full, there was a jumbled line at the counter, and the noise was deafening.

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