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Career Opportunities 1/4
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
CAREER OPPORTUNITIES 1/4
By Parker
WARNING: There's not a lot of sex in this one. Mostly just
the setup, really. Still, if you stick with it, there's
bound to be some of that sort of stuff in the future.
Copyright 1994 by me (Parker). Feel free to distribute
(unaltered) as you will, but be discrete.
=================================================================
"What a bimbo!"
The small circle of people suddenly fell silent as everyone
looked away, embarrassed. The speaker, Barbara Dahlton, smirked
knowingly at this reaction. Predictable. She brushed back her
thick brown hair and pretended not to notice when one of her co-
workers made a tentative effort to change the topic. It was
typical, really. People thought that just because she was a woman
she was supposed to be supportive of the other female employees
as the company.
Fat chance.
The subject of conversation - and hence Barbara's
unflattering attention - had been the company's newest employee,
Carol Louise Fawkner. At only twenty-two, she was by far the
youngest executive in the office, male or female. This was an
extremely impressive accomplishment, but not one which was
totally unexpected for someone who had done as well as she had in
university: top marks in her MBA at Harvard Business School as
well as the two-time recipient the state of California's 'Young
Entrepreneur' award (personally handed out by J Danforth
Quayle!). Ben Keating, the senior VP in charge of recruitment had
gone on at some length about how lucky the company had been to
get her. Carol could have worked for some of the big boys in New
York, but had instead chosen a medium sized firm in LA.
Barbara, on the other hand, had attributed Carol's
educational success more to the girl's stunning good looks than
any alleged intellectual capacity. Barbara had lately wondered
aloud - on more than one occasion - how many professors the girl
had fucked for her grades. There was no doubt about it: Carol
was an extraordinarily beautiful young woman. She stood only
about 5'3", but was perfectly proportioned: slender, with long
legs, a narrow waist and small, firm breasts. Her face was
delicately formed, with high cheekbones and large, green eyes
that shone out beneath a tousle of curly blonde hair.
Unfortunately for her career ambitions, her appearance was
that of a much younger girl, making it very difficult for her to
command the respect she needed to do her job properly and
effectively. When this was added to the fact that she was by
nature quite shy (blushing easily), it explained why she had not
been anywhere near as effective in the firm as Keating had
originally hoped and expected. As well, she was having the
difficulties all new graduates had in applying their academic
knowledge to practical work situations.
Another, and by no means insignificant, difficulty Carol was
experiencing at work was directly attributable to Barbara. As the
senior female executive in the company, Barbara had felt
threatened by this young 'star'. As well as fearing the younger
girl's ability, Barbara secretly resented her beauty. It was not
that Barbara was unattractive - she was well formed, with a
slender waist, large breasts and a handsome-if-not-
conventionally-beautiful face framed by thick, brown hair. In
fact, Barbara would have been beautiful if she had not spent her
career disguising this particular attribute. She was not,
however, even remotely in the same league as Carol Louise
Fawkner.
Very few women were.
Hence, she went out of her way to make things as difficult
as possible for the new employee. She did nothing too overt, of
course, but instead worked behind the scenes to undermine Carol's
authority and make it more difficult for the young girl to
function. And her efforts had paid off. Normally, Barbara was
relatively circumspect about her feelings, taking great pains to
ensure that no one was aware of her actions. Tonight, however, at
the office Christmas party, Barbara was feeling pretty confident.
She had it on good authority that Carol's one year contract would
not be renewed, and the girl would be let go at the next review
just over four months hence. She knew that she had done a good
job of making certain that no one at the office took the girl
seriously, and no longer cared who knew about it. In short, she
was a little drunk, and wanted to have some fun.
At the younger girl's expense.
Of course.
Carol, feeling uncomfortable and out of place as she always
did at such functions, nervously approached the group of people
standing around the bar. Gerry was there; so was Mark Prentiss
and Brad Tymmens. And Barbara Dahlton. Ordinarily, Carol would
have been too shy to impose herself on the group, but she felt a
little more confident with Barbara there. Carol was shy, but she
wasn't stupid; she was well aware of her beauty and the effect it
had on men. On the whole, she would have preferred not to appear
as she did, but there was no helping that. All attempts to hide
or disguise her beauty - severe hairstyles, conservative,
unattractive clothing; she had tried it all - were wasted on her.
Her appearance was one of the reasons she was so shy around her
co-workers. She knew she didn't look the part of a business
person, and it was this self-consciousness which weakened her and
made her uncertain of herself.
It was different when Barbara was there, though. Besides the
presence of another woman in the group, Carol had always found
Barbara to be personally supportive and encouraging. The older
woman - only mid-thirties, really - was always willing to listen
to Carol's ideas, even when Carol was too unsure of herself to
put them forward herself. Of all the people in the office,
Barbara was the one she felt the most comfortable with.
Of course, the fact that Brad Tymmens, with his dark hair
and blue eyes was there as well didn't hurt...
"Hi."
This tentative greeting was met with a round of absolute
silence, as the members of the group shifted uncomfortably. Brad
looked down at his feet, waiting for the inevitable. Carol seemed
like a nice girl and he liked her a lot, but it was undeniable
that she wasn't working out at the office. He didn't necessarily
like Barbara all that much, but she did hold a position of power
in the company; given Carol's precarious position, it would be
foolish to take her side against anything Barbara might have to
say.
And it seemed that Barbara had some things to say.
"Hello Carol," she chimed, mock friendly. "So glad you could
join us."
"Thanks."
Brad choked back a cough. The poor girl sounded relieved.
Stupid.
"In fact," Barbara continued, "we were just talking about
you. About your handling of the Hessen-Gerber sale." That
particular file had ended in disaster due to Carol's inexperience
and lack of confidence. What should have been a profitable sales
transaction with a German company had ended in threatened
litigation and, finally, termination of an interim agreement.
Everyone knew that it was Carol's fault.
Even Carol.
The poor girl flushed. It made her look years younger; and
not, Brad couldn't help but notice, all the more attractive. "W-
what do you mean?" she stammered. "I've talked to..."
"Well." Barbara was sneering openly now. "We were all just
curious as to how you managed to miss the completion date for the
cost proposals."
"I..."
"I mean," Barbara interrupted, "it couldn't have been easy.
We even negotiated two extensions for you."
"Barbara. Why are..."
"The germans were most impressed."
Carol looked as though she were about to start crying at any
moment. The others in the group started down at their feet, up at
the ceiling, across the room... anywhere other than at the
bloodletting that was occurring in front of them. Brad felt
terrible about it, but nonetheless suddenly found the ice cubes
in his drink extremely fascinating.
"At least we didn't get sued this time," Barbara went on
relentlessly. "Not like the Yakamoto Contract." Another disaster
file which Carol had worked on. "Or our supply contract with
Point Hope. You've almost got a perfect record, honey."
Carol just stared, well beyond the point of objecting or
protesting. She was well aware of the fact that her career with
the company had gotten off to a rough start, but she was working
hard to improve. Up to now, she had thought that Barbara had been
one of her supporters...
"Well, don't worry about too much," Barbara told her.
"Things aren't working out where you are, but I'm sure we'll find
something else for you soon. Something more suitable." The
brunette paused a moment, looking sideways at her co-workers.
Sharing the joke. "I understand there's some openings coming up
in the typing pool," she said. "They're always looking for one or
two more blonde bimbos to take dictation and do... 'other' jobs."
This was too much for Carol. Choking back a sob, she turned
and moved away, practically running in hasty retreat. Barbara
sneered as her victim fled.
"Bimbo," she muttered.
Beside her, Brad gritted his teeth in anger and frustration.
He wasn't sure who he hated most: Barbara for her treatment of
the younger employee, or himself for not trying to stop it.
*****
"I can't believe what a bitch she was."
"I believe it."
The car moved slowly over the rain-soaked streets. Brad
Tymmens stared moodily out the window at the ink-black scenery as
Rodney Parsons steered the car. Rodney was also an employee of
the company, in charge of the IT department. They were on their
way home from the office Christmas party.
"She treated that poor girl so badly," Brad continued,
drumming his fingers angrily on the dashboard. "I should have
told her to shut the fuck up."
"And lost your job," Rodney commented.
Brad grunted in agreement. The strict new policies at work
regarding any sort of harassment of the female employees would no
doubt have classified any such outburst on the part of a male
employee as sexual discrimination and would have resulted in Brad
losing his job. In fact, Barbara had already used such tactics a
couple of times to remove male co-workers who opposed her. Only a
woman would have gotten away with treating Carol the way she had
been treated at the party.
And, it seemed, a woman had done just that.
"Bullshit," Brad muttered.
"Hey," Rodney answered him, "I don't like it any more than
you do. But what can we do about it? That Barbara's a first class
cunt, but she's going places in the firm. Rumour has is she's up
for sales VP in a few months. And Carol... well, she's just not
working out." He shook his head, ever practical. "There's no
point in losing your job over that."
Brad couldn't disagree. But... "I just wish that there was
some way we could pay her back without getting into trouble."
"What do you mean?"
"Some way to make her look like an idiot," Brad explained,
chewing on his lip in thought. "Some way to..." His face lit up.
"Wait a minute."
"What?"
"Remember you were telling me about that drug your wife was
taking for pain."
Rodney nodded. His wife Tracy had been hit by a car a couple
of months ago, shattering her hip. It was healing, but there was
still a lot of pain. Rather than prescribe usual pain killers,
the doctors had suggested that she use a new drug. This drug, bi-
trexicol, acted like morphine - deadening the pain - but was not
at all addictive. The side effect was that it seemed to slow down
the mental processes of the user, making the user appear rather
slow and stupid. Tracy hadn't like this effect, and preferred to
use other pain killers. There was a container with a number of
bi-trexicol tablets sitting in the medicine cabinet at home.
"So?"
"So... why don't we slip a couple to Barbara before the
sales group meeting tomorrow?"
"What!? Man, that's crazy. We could get in all kinds of
shit."
"Only if we got caught." Brad was excited now. This was the
perfect way to get back at Barbara. "And it's not dangerous. All
it'll do is make her a bit confused at the meeting and she'll
fuck up her report or something."
"Well..." Rodney reconsidered. He wouldn't do it himself,
but if Brad were willing to take the chance... Hell, it wouldn't
hurt to see Barbara taken down a peg or two.
It might even be fun!
"Alright," he decided. "I'm in."
It would be a simple matter to pack the drugs in his
briefcase the next morning before leaving for work.
*****
Barbara leaned wearily against the side of her desk and
tried to clear her head. It had been a disaster! She had never
been so humiliated in her life. What should have been a simple
sales report - the kind of thing she had done numerous times
before - had turned into a confused jumble of mistakes,
misunderstandings and confusion on her part. She just couldn't
understand it. Everything had been prepared going in, but once
she started her presentation she had found herself unable to
focus. Words, numbers, concepts... things she knew backwards and
forwards were all of a sudden a complete mystery to her. At first
it seemed to go pretty well, but after a while she began to
stumble over her facts. Robert Baxter, the present VP in charge
of sales - AND THE MAN WHO WOULD PICK HIS SUCCESSOR - had
corrected her, at first gently and unobtrusively, but then with
increasing annoyance and frustration. At last, openly angry, he
had cancelled the presentation and ordered her to report to his
office later that afternoon.
She had almost been in tears. Even now, over two hours
later, she was unable to think of anything other than the
impending encounter. Barbara checked her watch: almost 4:00 -
time for the meeting. She felt better now than she had during the
presentation - sharper, more focused. Confident of her ability to
deal with the problem. Still, a couple more sips of coffee
wouldn't hurt. She needed to be on her toes if she wanted to save
her promotion. With one swallow, she finished the lukewarm mug of
coffee which had been sitting beside her on the desk.
Time to go...
*****
Brad glanced up surreptitiously from where he was pretending
to be hunting for a file in one of the hall storage cabinets.
From where he stood, he could just see into Barbara's office
through the partially open door.
She was drinking another cup of coffee!
Perfect. It had been the coffee in which he had elected to
dissolve the tablets. Barbara had her own coffee maker in her
office so that she could drink her own premium blend. (Typical!)
Brad had slipped four tablets in during his morning report to her
in her office, and then another four while she was in the big
sales meeting, just in the hope of carrying the mischief a little
farther.
So far things seemed to be working out perfectly. Neither he
nor Rodney had been present during Barbara's presentation - the
one big drawback to his plan - but from the look on the bitch's
face afterward, things had apparently worked out pretty much as
planned. Barbara - looking like she was about to throw up - had
marched directly to her office and slammed shut the door. Over
the next few hours, word of her pathetic performance had
peculated through the office with the speed of juicy gossip.
Barbara had only emerged from her office a couple of times to
deal with matters that couldn't be put off, but had basically
spent the afternoon by herself.
By now, of course, the entire firm knew of her impending
confrontation with Robert Baxter. The meeting was to take place
in his office, which, in Brad's opinion, was absolutely perfect.
Better than they had any right to expect, Rodney had agreed,
before driving home to pick up his video camera.
The video camera.
The inside of Baxter's office could be viewed from behind a
one-way mirror in an adjoining storage closet. The entrance to
the closet was in Baxter's receptionist's office. She was often
asked by Baxter to observe sensitive meeting from the closet in
order to be in a position to verify his version of events should
matters go awry and litigation ensue, a stratagem which had come
in handy more than once. The receptionist - Phyllis Morden - was
an extremely conscientious woman, who took her responsibilities
very seriously. She would never allow anyone into the locked
storage closet without the knowledge and permission of her boss.
Phyllis Morden also hated Barbara Dahlton with a passion.
This hatred was understandable. Barbara's contempt for the
female support staff had not endeared her to many, and Phyllis
Morden - who was facing the unpalatable prospect of choosing
between losing her job or working for Barbara after Baxter left -
nurtured a special loathing her. To make matters worse, Barbara
had shown little restraint in making fun of Phyllis's weight
problem (the office "Roseanne", Barbara had called her).
The final straw was that Phyllis was gay, and had experience
something of a crush on Barbara when she had first started
working at the Company.
In the end, it had been a simple matter to convince Phyllis
that witnessing Barbara being chewed out was more important than
some minor rule regarding access to closets. Besides, it was
pointed out, Baxter only had another few months to go before
retirement; loyalty to a man in such a position seemed a bit
unnecessary, if not outright foolish.
And that was why, at precisely 4:00 that afternoon, Brad
Tymmens, Rodney Parsons with his video camera and Phyllis Morden
were watching intently as Barbara entered the office of Robert
Baxter, VP in charge of sales.
*****
Barbara walked slowly through the door into Baxter's office.
His bitch of secretary hadn't been at her desk, so she had been
forced to announce herself on the office intercom. The speaker's
tinny reproduction of Baxter's expressionless "come in" had
somehow made the encounter all the more frightening to her. By
the time she pushed open the door, her hands were shaking and her
stomach was tied in knots. Worst of all, she had started feeling
the same dazed and confused feeling that had come over her in the
meeting.
Drawing a deep breath, she entered the office and closed the
door behind her. (No point in giving anyone the opportunity of
listening in!) Time to get this over with.
"There she is!"
"Shh..." Brad elbowed Rodney in the side, concerned that his
loud friend would give them away.
"Don't worry about it," Phyllis told him, her voice at a
conversational level. "Baxter had this room pretty much
soundproofed. There are microphones picking up what goes on
inside the office, but nothing short of screaming will be heard
on the other side."
Relieved, Brad turned back to the window.
Robert Baxter sat upright behind his desk, looking solemn
and forbidding. News of his retirement had sent a flurry of
speculation through the office, with the eventual consensus being
that he was being put aside as too conservative for modern
business practices. Too rigid; too hold fashioned. He certainly
looked the party. At fifty-seven, Robert Baxter had the
appearance of a man ten years his junior, with a stern, almost
military posture, intense blue eyes and deep tan. Only his thin,
yellow-grey hair gave any indication of his true age. Indeed, he
would have been an attractive man, had it not been for a large,
purple birthmark that covered half his face and a set of
blackened teeth where gum disease and decay had taken their toll.
Not only did this latter feature give his smile a lopsided
rotting appearance, but the resulting halitosis - the younger
employees called him 'dragon-breath' behind his back; the more
experienced ones just didn't talk about him - made any sort of
close up conversation with him a test of endurance. Rumour had it
he left his teeth that way to give him an edge in negotiations.
Whatever the truth of it was, he was out. In three months.
As a concession to his experience and position in the company,
however, he had been given the power to choose his successor.
Barbara had been the heir-apparent.
Until now.
"Ms Dahlton," he droned in his gravely, monotone voice after
Barbara had taken the seat in front of him, "I want you to know
that I was very disappointed in your performance in the meeting
today."
Barbara stiffened.
"You were obviously unprepared for the presentation. You
were an embarrassment to me and to the company. A student - even
Carol Fawkner - could have done a better job."
Barbara felt her face go red. Sure, she had been a little
slow, but...
"As you know, I will be leaving the company in a few months,
and I have until now taken the position that you were the best
person to take over my job." He looked her straight in the eye
with his basilisk gaze. "Now," he continued, "I'm beginning to
have doubts."
"Sir... Mr Baxter..." Barbara struggled to find something to
say in her own defence, but the same murky, confused feeling that
had sabotaged her performance in the meeting earlier that day had
once again enveloped her. Her tongue felt thick and swollen, and
her mind struggled in vain to grasp what was going on.
"Now," he continued, looking pained and disappointed as she
stammered ineffectually, "I am going to take you over these
figures you failed to explain this morning, and we are going to
make certain that you do know something about your job." He
leaned forward as he spoke the last few words. The smell of his
breath washed over Barbara like a fetid tide. "Is that
understood?"
Barbara, trying desperately to breath only out of her mouth,
could only nod her head in agreement.
Phyllis chuckled nastily. This was better than she had
expected. Worth getting fired for. The fat redhead fully expected
to lose her job in three months time; either Barbara would fire
her when she took over Baxter's position, or she would quit,
unable to work for such a bitch. This bit of advance payback was
going down very well.
Try as she might, Barbara found herself unable to comprehend
the facts and figures on the paper in front of her. Damn it...
she KNEW this stuff. Inside and out. She'd known it for years.
But, no matter how hard she tried, she found herself completely
incapable of discussing it with Baxter - the man whose decision
it was who would become the next VP in charge of sales. Baxter
had opened up the report and was taking her through it step by
step, pointing out each section and asking her to explain what it
meant and how it related to the overall sales figures and
marketing strategy. And, each time, no matter how simple it was,
Barbara stumbled over her explanation, giving the impression that
she knew nothing about the report. It quickly became apparent to
her that not only was her future promotion going down the tube,
but so was her present job.
Upset by yet another failure to explain a figure, she looked
over at her boss. As he had done a number of times already, he
had stopped talking and was looking over at her. She looked back,
but he wouldn't meet her gaze. 'Pity,' she thought, 'he just
feels sorry for...'
But that wasn't it.
His gaze had dropped down from her face to... to her chest.
Surreptitiously, Barbara glanced downward. There it was... as she
had leaned over the desk to look at the report, the top button of
her blouse had come undone, partially exposing the upper swell of
her breasts.
Baxter was staring at her breasts!
Just as she reached this realization, Baxter tore his gaze
away from her and began talking again about the report. Barbara,
however, had stopped listening. He had been staring at her
breasts! A tiny spark of an idea - faint and tentative -
flickered across her mind, quickly fanning itself into a full
blown thought. Baxter had been staring at her breasts! Maybe...
just maybe she could save her job and her promotion. Trying not
to be obvious, Barbara brought her hand up and slipped loose
another button. After stretching her shoulders slightly to expose
as much breast as possible, she leaned forward to give him the
best possible view.
Maybe... just maybe she could come out of this with her job
and promotion intact.
"What's she doing?"
Rodney looked puzzled.
"I don't know," Brad answered excitedly, "but whatever you
do, keep filming!"
Rodney, whose view of the scene in Baxter's office was
framed by the four sides of the viewfinder on his video camera,
nodded in silent agreement.
Baxter had stopped talking again.
It was working!
He was staring over at her chest again. Not knowing whether
to laugh or cry at her success, Barbara lightly placed her hand
on top of his where he was holding the report. Was it too much?
Too soon? Barbara could only hope that she was playing things
correctly. She'd had little experience in this or any other sort
of seduction.
"Ms Dahlton... Barbara..." For the first time, Baxter
actually seemed a little unsure of himself. A little
uncomfortable.
"Yes?" Barbara smiled across the table at him, trying her
best to look sexy. She knew that she was attractive - or could be
with a little effort - but she had spent years playing down her
physical appearance. She had learned early on in her career that
men didn't respect attractive women; at least, not in the way she
wanted to be respected. It was not easy now to try to overcome
all that effort, but she was willing to try in order to save her
promotion.
And her job.
"Barbara," he stammered, "I... this report..."
"Maybe," she told him, fighting to enunciate clearly through
the fog that still enveloped her consciousness, "if you were to
come around her and explain it to me?" Her voice sounded low and
unnatural to her; how she imagined a voice might sound if it were
sexy; inviting.
It seemed to do the trick. Moving quickly, Baxter stood up
and came around to her side of the desk. He leaned over her chair
and pulled the report across the desk so that it was right in
front of them.
His hands were trembling.
"Now," he continued, trying to remain businesslike, "the
market figures..."
Barbara tuned out his voice as she considered her position.
Could she really go through with this? With that breath? If she
didn't, she could kiss the promotion goodbye and probably her job
as well. But if she did... well, maybe it wouldn't be so bad. A
few kisses... maybe even sleep with him once or twice... He'd be
gone in a few months, and, once she was safely in position as VP,
she could get rid of him easily enough.
Maybe...
"And when the numbers are applied to future..." The droning
stopped when she once again placed her hand on top of his.
"Barbara..."
Slowly, insistently, she pulled his hand off the report and
guided it over to her breasts. He didn't help, but allowed her to
slip his hand down the top of her blouse and over one of her
breasts. She could feel the pulse in his wrist speed up as he -
at last on his own initiative - squeezed her breast. She started
to squirm away in discomfort, but quickly remembered what she was
doing; and what she was trying to do.
Breathing heavily, Barbara leaned back in her chair and
moaned in simulated passion as Baxter slipped his other gnarled
hand down the top of her blouse and began fondling both of her
breasts.
"I don't believe this."
The three observers stared, open mouthed with wonder, as
Barbara writhed on the chair while Baxter popped open the front
of her blouse, exposing her large, firm breasts beneath the thick
cover of the utilitarian bra. The covering too was soon removed,
as Baxter reached down behind Barbara and jerked it open.
"Nice tits," Rodney commented, as Baxter's hungry hands
cupped and kneaded them. Phyllis nodded in agreement.
This activity went on for a few more moments before Baxter
came around beside the chair, leaned down and brought his mouth
onto Barbara's face.
"My god," Phyllis muttered. She had spent years dealing with
Baxter's halitosis. "How can she..."
Barbara almost gagged with revulsion at his fetid breath,
but nevertheless opened her own mouth to welcome his tongue. More
than that, she actively kissed back, thrusting her tongue back at
his, as he once again began to manipulate her breasts. It didn't
hurt, really, but it was very uncomfortable. And humiliating.
Nevertheless, job and promotion firmly in the front of her mind,
Barbara moaned and grunted on the chair, just as she imagined she
would sound if she were actually enjoying the activity.
This kissing and fondling went on for a while. Finally, it
dawned on Barbara that she was to make the next move. Baxter was
waiting for her. Panting with revulsion at the smell of his
breath, she reached over with one shaking hand and began undoing
his pants. That was what he had been waiting for. He dropped her
breast - red and shiny from where he had been biting and licking
- and helped her undo his pants. Within seconds, his cock -
thick and covered with large purple veins - sprang free. Barbara
immediately felt a kind of horrid fascination with this ugly
thing as he guided her hand onto it. Tentatively, she grasped it
as he wished and began running her hand along it, up and down...
up and down. Almost immediately, a glistening of pre-cum
appeared.
Barbara moaned, this time with real fear, as he pulled her
off the chair and down to her knees in front of him: eye to eye
with his cock. She knew what he wanted though, and she had
already gone too far to back out now. Not if she wanted her job.
And besides, she thought, slipping her mouth over Baxter's cock
and sucking it in, his cock doesn't stink like his breath.
"Quite the little slut when her job's on the line," Phyllis
commented, looking hungrily as Barbara sucked and slurped
hungrily at Baxter's cock. The sounds were clearly audible
through the microphones in the office.
"Oh no," Rodney laughed, still filming. "I'm sure it's love.
Look at her go!" Phyllis smirked at this sarcasm.
Brad remained silent, his cock swollen in his pants. He was
thinking of Carol; she should be here, seeing this...
Finally, Baxter reached his limit.
Roughly, he pulled Barbara's mouth off his cock, causing a
long, glistening trail of spit and pre-cum to trail from her lips
to the tip of his cock. He lifted her, and placed her down on the
edge of his desk.
"Spread your legs," he mumbled, voice thick with lust.
"Oh... yes."
Barbara, frightened but determined to carry on to save her
job, complied. She quickly slipped off her panties, pulled up her
gray, business-skirt and leaned back across the desk, legs spread
in obvious invitation and tits hanging free.
"Fuck me," she moaned.
Baxter needed no further encouragement. He leaned forward
between her legs and drove his cock into her exposed pussy,
burying it to the hilt with one powerful thrust. Barbara squealed
with pain as the cock was driven into her still-dry pussy, but
immediately turned it into a grunt of passion.
The job!
"Oh yes... yes... yes..." She moaned and bucked beneath her
boss as he brutally fucked her on his desk, doing her best to
give the impression of a woman overcome by lust as he sawed his
cock in and out of her pussy. This, despite the fact that every
thrust sent waves of pain through her raw pussy.
Fortunately, Baxter didn't last long. Within thirty seconds,
he stiffened and grunted. Barbara, thankful that he was coming so
quickly, wrapped her legs around behind him and began squealing
loudly, as if she too were coming. The two of this held this
position - him grunting and her squealing - for a good ten
seconds before he suddenly relaxed, releasing his weight on top
of her, passion spent.
Barbara too allowed herself to relax. It was over.
And maybe... just maybe, she told herself as she felt the
first trickle of sperm dribble out of her pussy and down her ass
crack, I've saved my job.
END PART ONE
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As usual, all comments are appreciated.
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