Technically the Truth

"Yeah, just a latte. Made it how you like it," he said before handing it to her.

"No, what's in the bottle?" she asked. Tom looked at the bottle of thickening syrup.

"Oh it's the bottle I normally keep at home. It has an all-natural mood thing in it. Something my step-daughter started taking." He hadn't lied to Julia. That would be wrong. This was all just... a curated truth.

"Huh, neat," she said before taking a sip of the latte. "Um... er... fuck, could I try a bit? It's not like St. John's Wort where it fucks with other meds, right?"

"Nah, it's good," he said. "Want to try a bit on the tongue before putting it in the coffee? We've been having it mixed in stuff."

"Oh, does it taste bad?"

"A little bitter, a little sweet. Coffee and sports drinks cover it best." He handed her the bottle. She put a glob on the back of her hand and licked it off like tequila salt.

"Oh, it is. Bitter, sweet, salty and... baking soda-y. Weird. But... eh, not bad. How much do I use?" She asked, holding the bottle of refrigerated ball milk.

"One or two good squirts should do it," he said.

"Cool, I can make you your coffee while you get the drawer ready," she said, squirting a thick spurt of Tom's semen into her latte. She stirred it and another in before taking a long sip. "Oh it's better in the coffee by a lot," she said, her cheeks blushing slightly. "You're the best, Bossman!"

Tom nodded and went into his office, where he retrieved the cash drawers for the cafe. He knew Julia could open the shop on her own. As he counted out the bills, he wondered - he thought of Wanda as a bimbo maid, and her breasts grew and she became more keen to clean. He thought of Catherine as his personal whore, and she got relaxed about him sleeping around and even now is willing to fuck Paul, which Tom admittedly was partially to get **** on Brenda.

What would happen with Julia? Would she just be into him and a little happier? Or did it always mess with people in strong ways? Was it some kind of subconscious thing? Was he having another anxiety episode? Should he sell coffee if he's prone to anxiety?

He stopped focusing on his rampant internal monologue when Julia brought him his coffee.

"Thank you, Julia," he said as he took the cup from her.

"No problem Boss. Hope it helps." She smiled at him wider than she normally did. Maybe it would just make her happier.

Tom took a long swig of the drink and thought how much it tasted like the cookie dough macciato's he had after that creamer expired. That would be weird, they had run out of it.

As the day went on, Tom felt better, happier, stronger. Julia seemed like she was doing better too. Tom left during his lunch, at about 10am, to the grocery store. He looked through the dietary supplements for the better part of an hour until he found what he needed. He carried a box of protien bars to the check-out and left with them in tow and stopped for a burger on the way back to the Cafe. This was definitely better than a single protein shake and a handful of salami, he reasoned.

The rest of the morning went well, through Julia's lunch and until Carrie showed up to relieve her. Tom had noticed Julia being a bit more prone to bending over when the shop was empty. When Carrie arrived, Julia left, but not before giving him a hug. She had reacted, he figured, but not as strongly as Carrie had.

Tom was noticing how much harder it was to focus on work. He was rock hard most of the day after lunch. It was enough that he felt a sense of relief when Miss Ashliegh Billings entered the cafe.

It was odd, the instinct of dread not being present. But why should he dread her - Miss Ashleigh Billings wasn't a threat anymore.

"Tommy, baby!" She said, happy to lay eyes on him. "I have the new paperwork, should we sign it in your office?" She was wearing a short green dress with stocking, despite the weather.

"Of course, Miss Billings," he said calmly as he lead her into the back. Carrie smiled as she manned the front counter.

"Have fun," Carrie said under her breath as Tom left into the back room.

"Here is the new contract," Ashliegh said, handing Tom the stack. It had listed the new rent as $8,500, $500 more than it was currently. He sighed - he knew it was too good to be true.

But underneath there was a clause. "'Miss Ashleigh Billings may visit up to twice a week for a latte and/or a deep tissue massage. Each of these can drop the cost by $1,200, to a minimum of $0, should tenant Tom Calvin give these to Miss Ashleigh Billings' satisfaction.' What does this mean?" He asked.

"Like we talked about! I couldn't write it as 'fuck Ashleigh's brains out,' not yet anyway!" Ashleigh laughed at Tom as he a smile crossed his mouth.

"Could we start enacting the massage rule now?" He asked. She smiled back and bent over for him, pulling up her dress hem as she got ready on his desk. A sparking gemstone framed by Ashleigh's cheeks met Tom's eye.

"I think you said you wanted my ass. Take it, baby," she said with a laugh. "Take the plug out and put that cock in me!"

Tom didn't have to be told twice. He grabbed the plug and gently pulled on it until her sphincter let go with a satisfying pop. It stayed slightly open, as if to try to invite him in. He spit on her hole and then his hand to lube himself up.

He pushed his dick against her gummy hole while gripping her small but tight butt. She wasn't as tight as Wanda or as callipygian as Julie, but he wasn't going to say no to anal. Soon another pop and the head was in, with Miss Ashleigh Billings letting out a lough "oh fuck" as he pushed in. She pushed back against him until eventually his big, thick meatstick was buried to the base in her often unused hole. Tom made a note about needing to get lube to keep on him. Not like her ass could always be ready.

"Fuck me, baby. Fuck my ass like the whore I am," she said. Tom didn't have to hear that twice before he began pistoning his hips, smacking her checks with his hands almost as often as his hips, his balls slapping against her dripping pussy. She moaned with each thrust out and screamed with each thrust in. Tom felt Ashleigh's guts try to milk the cum out of his balls, and he was reveling in it. A week ago, he wouldn't believe he could be balls deep in the rich woman's ass like she was a common whore.

"Oooh so fucking good," Ashleigh moaned between screams. He voice was hoarse, her tits swayed as Tom plumbed her forbidden depths, and she became more and more disheveled as Tom fucked two years of frustration into her intestines.

"Going to fill you up," Tom groaned as he kept fucking her. "Going to cum." He felt the wave of pleasure approaching, like feeling an undertow in his groin.

"Fill my ass, Tom! Fucking cum in me!" She screamed as her orgasm smashed into her. As she came, the silken walls of her anal chute rippled around Tom's cock and drew his own orgasm out. He felt his balls tighten as he pumped rope after rope of his thick cum into her bowels. Once he had finished, he stayed plugging her with his cock for a moment before pulling out and pushing her plug back into her. He grabbed a towel to clean off his dick and sighed.

"So, how'd I do?" He asked.

"I'll be back on Friday for another massage and that coffee, Mr. Calvin," she said with a smile before signing the contract. Tom signed it as well.

"Can't wait to see you for the rent now. Might even pay extra," he said with a smirk and a wink, coaxing a laugh from her.

Ashleigh left and waved to Carrie, who smiled as Tom came out. She whispered to him when the cafe was closed, "I get a turn later tonight, right?" She asked. Tom smiled and nodded. This new dynamic was much more exciting than before.