As the room and the ambiance assaulted his senses he watched her. She had stopped just inside the door allowing him to watch the blouse fall from her...shoulders. His breath caught in his throat at her beauty, the smooth golden skin of her back drawing him to her. Her softness, beauty and the warmth of the room in stark contrast to the cacophony of sound being created by mother nature just beyond the walls of this special chamber.He slipped up behind her quietly, and lowering his lips to her. When I again looked blank she provided a last name. "Mario Minaghieri, Nick. Our tenor."My eyes got really big. Camilla St. John and Mario Minaghieri and Gerald Oliver? This wasn't just a star-studded production, this had all the earmarks of the Tosca of the century. And I was going to sing Scarpia in the middle of all those stars? Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ in a basket. I was way out of my depth.I expect my feelings were pretty obvious; you didn't have to be Asmedogh to read my face. "Don't. “Good don’t you dare forget my cum is in your panties”. It is now 3pm during a break and everything in the oven you tell me you are going to put on your clothes as the f****y will be there starting in about an hour. You go to the bedroom not knowing I was following you. I sneak up from behind you bend you over and slid your panties to the side and plowed my cock into your wet cum soaked cunt. I fucked you hard and deep, and again when my cock was about to explode I pull out and cum all over. Her voice was extremely cultured, quietly well spoken and very engaging to listen to even if her mannerisms were cold and aloof. There was no doubt that she was used to making people work for their money but there was something about her that fascinated me. As she turned to peruse the stand I fetched a brochure and watched her as discreetly as I could. She carried herself well, very poised and elegant. She was dressed in an expensive two piece business suit. The jacket was fitted, a high neck.