LACTOGENESIS XXVIII: THE FIRST CLIENT, PART ONE "I don't know about this, Jeremy," Christine said, as she surveyed the "setup" that Jeremy had placed in one corner of her kitchen. In the intervening days since she had consented to his proposal that they make use of her special talents to make money by starting a business providing lactation services, Jeremy had taken the ball and run with it. Now, where there used to be a spice rack, there was a separate phone line coming through the wall with a state-of-the-art answering machine/cordless phone combination, a line switching device, and a fax machine hooked to it. Chris glanced at the business card Jeremy had thrust into her hand. It read: THE LAC-STATION, LTD. Lactation Services --Breast Milk Sales--Wet Nursing--Consultation--Etc.-- Rates Negotiable call 555-MILK "When Only Nature's Way Will Do" He had just picked up two thousand of them from the local print shop. Now he looked concerned. "Not getting cold feet before we even get started, are you?" "Not really. I just wasn't expecting...this." With a sweeping gesture she regarded the whole picture -- not just the equipment and the cards, but Jeremy's seemingly overzealous attitude. Jeremy walked over to Chris and gave her a peck on the lips. "Don't you worry about any of this. Promotion and scheduling is my department. You just take care of production." He ran a hand across Chris's unbelievable bosom, causing that tingling sensation to start up in it. Chris was vaguely reassured to feel it, since it made her remember that her hedonistic side really wanted to do this, really wanted to explore the new sensual possibilities that "The Lac-Station" would provide. Now that she was boycotting the local milk bank, she didn't want her daily production to go to waste. Why *not* make some money from the situation? As it was, Jeremy's near-constant stimulation of her breasts had kept them fairly overflowing with milk for some time now -- what better way to get rid of it (other than spraying him down with it, that is)? Jeremy took the business card from Chris's hand and replaced it with a fax, recently torn from her machine. "You didn't read this, I see," he chided her. "I faxed this earlier today. It concerns our first client." "Sorry, hon, I didn't notice it," she apologized. She scanned the paper briefly. "Who are these people?" "Friends of mine," he replied, smiling. "I thought it would be a good idea to start off with someone familiar, someone I know something about." He could see she wasn't interested in reading every detail, so he decided to give her the short version. "Bill is 45 and already retired from his investment firm. He made his money in leveraged buyouts; now he lives on the proceeds from his stock investments. Spends several hours a day on his computer. His wife Eleanor is 34, a product of old money, silver spoon all the way. Probably wore Chanel diapers. She's very well connected in the local social scene, so much so that she doesn't want to be 'tied down' by their new arrival. Their son Thad is six or seven weeks old, cute as a button. Eleanor has been nursing him, but has decided that it's ruining her figure, her designer clothing, and her calendar. She wants to continue to provide Thad with the benefits of breast milk, but now that the immunological aspects are pretty much overwith, she would like to use someone else's breast milk to feed him. Now here's the kicker. She only wants someone who Thad likes." "What do you mean?" Chris asked, puzzled. "Why should a seven-week-old baby care who the milk comes from?" "He doesn't, of course," Jeremy said. "Eleanor's weird in this regard. She wants to be sure that Thad has a chance to meet and approve the donor. I guess that if, upon seeing you and/or tasting your milk, he starts to cry, then the deal's off." "You mean she wants me to nurse him myself?" "Just the one time. If he's comfortable with you, then Eleanor will be too. From that point on she'll feed him your milk with a bottle -- although I'll be willing to bet that Bill will get stuck with a lot of the feedings while she's off galavanting around with her cronies." "Jeremy, I've never nursed a baby before. I've hardly ever been around babies. I wouldn't know what to do." "Eleanor will talk you through it, I'm sure." "I don't know..." "Come on, sweetheart. I know these people. Eleanor's a little eccentric, but they're basically regular folks. Most of our future clients will be quite a bit less 'regular', I can assure you. This is the perfect way to get our feet wet, so to speak. And, it's worth a thousand a week." "Good Lord. You're kidding." "Eleanor must be desperate to get back to her social climbing. She doesn't mind paying dearly for the privilege of hand-picking the donor. She disguises it as concern for her child, but I'm sure this is just another one of her ways of rubbing the rest of our noses in the fact that she is filthy stinking rich." "I don't have to babysit, change diapers, like that?" "Nope. They have a nanny for all that." "Great. Let's go take these people's money. When do we meet them?" Jeremy smiled sheepishly. "In about a half hour. You should have read the fax as soon as it came in." Chris glanced at the clock, then gave herself a once-over in the full- length mirror on the hall closet door. "I suppose I can be ready in time. God knows I can spare the milk. There's hardly a time when I'm not full, thanks to you." She hefted her breasts slightly and could almost feel the milk sloshing about inside. Jeremy walked up behind Chris and replaced her hands with his. "You know you make me crazy when you feel yourself up like that." He began kneading her boobs gently. His hands weren't anywhere near large enough to completely contain them. Chris leaned back against him, feeling the ridge of his rapidly growing erection press into the crack of her ass. She felt her nipples stiffening at roughly the same rate as Jeremy's penis. She began wiggling her ass up and down, which served to bunch the material of her short skirt up at her waistline. Jeremy quickly reached down to unzip his zipper and liberate his cock, which he began rubbing against the material of her panties. His hands returned to Chris's breasts, whose nipples were clearly showing through her blouse. She began unbuttoning it frantically, afraid that if she didn't hurry, she'd certainly stain it with the blast of milk that she felt building up. Jeremy reached back down and roughly yanked Chris's panties down in the back, exposing her lovely rounded ass. He moved his fingers down along her crack and around, where they instantly became coated with Chris's copious nectar. He used his wet hand to lubricate his cock, and then swiftly entered her from behind. He had to stand on tiptoe to fully penetrate her, as she was taller than he. This put him slightly off balance, and the two of them pitched forward against the mirror. Chris gasped at the force of Jeremy's entry, but was already wet and open enough to accommodate him. Her breasts and cheek mashed against the glass, sliding up and down as Jeremy pounded into her. Milk welled up around her flattened boobs and flowed freely down the mirror. Jeremy cupped his hands under her breasts and lifted her back away from the glass. Torrents of milk splashed upward and outward, soon completely obscuring their reflections in a web of tiny downward-flowing rivers. Chris wanted to feel him deeper, so she leaned forward and rested her hands on bent knees, effectively lowering her ass. Jeremy used the increased leverage to sink himself to the hilt, driving the breath from Chris's lungs. His hips became a blur as he repeatedly pulled almost all the way out and then slammed it home again and again. After about two minutes of this, Chris suddenly squealed and came, gushing her juices both ahead and behind. Jeremy's pants were instantly soaked, as was the carpeting at the bottom of the mirror. Jeremy followed within seconds, mixing his own cum with hers into a frothy brew that coated both partners' nether regions. When Chris regained her breath, she looked over her shoulder at Jeremy, then turned and quite unexpectedly punched him in the shoulder. "Drat you anyway," she said. "Now we're going to have to change clothes and clean up. You're going to make us late!" "Do you have any left for the little guy?" Jeremy asked as he reached for a handful of Kleenex. "Are you kidding? By the time we get there the needle will be on F again."