My breathing got heavier, and each exhale felt hotter.
The vibe between us got more intense with every breath, like the temperature was slowly cranking up.
After measuring my chest, she squatted down in front of me, placed the tape at my ankle, pressed it with her fingers, and then pulled it up towards my waist.
As she measured my legs, her body slowly rose between them, her warm breath seeping through the fabric.
My cock hardened again, and my pants bulged out instantly.
Fiona noticed, glanced at my cock, then quickly looked away, embarrassed.
After finishing the measurements, she stood up fast and went to the front desk to jot down the data.
"Chest size, 3.2 feet. Leg length, 3.6 feet," she mumbled.
"What about my waist? It's all muscle so that it might be thinner than others," I said, not holding back.
Fiona glanced at my waist, her eyes drifting down to my clearly erect cock, making her blush again.
"That's okay, you can wear a belt," she said.
"But none of the uniforms have belts, and there's no place for one. If I'm the only one wearing a belt, wouldn't it stand out?" I pointed out.
I continued, "What if a supervisor checks and isn't happy? They might blame you, right? You're working part-time too; it's better not to cause trouble for yourself."
Fiona thought for a moment, hesitated, then picked up the tape and walked towards me.
I instinctively raised my arms and faced her.
But my bulging cock was too obvious, and she saw it right away. She blushed, looked away towards my abdomen, then closed her eyes and measured my waist by feel.
With her eyes closed, her hand slipped and touched my cock.
Feeling her touch, my cock twitched, almost like it was cheering her on.
Fiona quickly pulled her hand back, glanced at the tape, and went back to the front desk to write it down.
"Waist size, 2.4 feet," she wrote, then walked back to her office.
When she came out again, she had changed into her own clothes, put on her backpack, and was ready to leave.
She glanced at me, flustered, "We're done here, you can go ahead. I need to close up."
With that, she ran out without looking back, waiting outside for me to leave first.
I couldn't help but laugh at her running away.
Why did she run when she saw me? I wouldn't do anything bad to her.
I shook my head, walked slowly to the door, and before I could turn around, I heard the door close. When I looked back, she was already gone.
She was wearing a white knee-length dress, and as she walked, the hem fluttered elegantly, showing the upper half of her thighs. Her long, proportionate legs swayed in front of me, truly beautiful.
I wanted to catch up with her and get to know her better, but as soon as I took a few steps, I saw Fiona getting into a Bentley.
The car windows were tinted, and I couldn't see inside.
As I got closer, I caught a glimpse of the guy inside the car when Fiona opened the door. He was in loose pajamas, tapping the steering wheel with his fingers, and had tattoos on the back of his hand.
I thought probably he was Fiona's boyfriend.
That was a bummer. I had hoped that working together would give me a chance to get to know Fiona better and maybe even become more than just colleagues.
But it looked like I had to let that go.
Even though I had flings with lots of married women, I usually stayed away from couples who seemed to have a good thing going.
I didn't know anything about Fiona's relationship status or her sex life with this guy.
So, to be safe, it was better not to get involved.
Just as I was about to head home, my phone rang.
I was surprised to see a video call from Catherine.
I quickly answered, eager to see her after losing contact for a day.
"Hey, Catherine. Did you make it to the hotel?"
"Yeah, I just got here, took a shower, and called you right away. What are you doing out so late?" Catherine asked, concerned.
"Me? I just finished my part-time job and I'm heading back," I replied honestly, leaving out the part about the measurements to avoid making her jealous.
"Part-time job? Don't you have enough money? I can give you my bank card to use, so you don't have to work part-time. Working during the day and at night is tough on you," Catherine said with concern.
"I have enough money, but I want to marry you and have you as my wife. Then I want to openly fuck your pussy at home, at work, at the hotel, wherever we can," I teased her.
Working part-time at the bar let me meet all kinds of people, especially since it was the most luxurious and upscale bar around, many wealthy businessmen came here to discuss deals, and getting to know them could boost my chances of success. Earning money through my own efforts felt more reliable than trying to please women for it.
Catherine blushed at my words, looked away embarrassed, and muttered, "You're so lecherous!"
"So what? You're my woman." I said directly.
"But, what you just said about marrying me, is it true?" Catherine asked, her face flushed, eyes filled with sincerity and hope.
"Of course, I want to marry you. I genuinely want to marry you," I nodded without hesitation.
"Even though we agreed to pretend to be boyfriend and girlfriend and just have sex without emotions, I can't resist your charm. My cock has been deeply attracted to your pussy since that night we had sex. I've only wanted to be with you," I continued.
It was a blunt way to express my feelings, but it was the truth.
From the night we spent together at the hotel to the days at her place and every moment we shared, including this video call, I hadn't thought about anyone else. When I was with her, I never fantasized about her as a substitute for Scarlett.
I treated Catherine like my girlfriend, caring for her and spoiling her.
"Who expresses their feelings like that? You're so annoying!" Catherine said, her face still blushing.