Chapter 9
The phone in his office rang. "Hello
"Mr, Dewey would like to see you, please."
"Thank you."
"It's set," Dewey said with a smile, as Bob entered his office and sat down. "It will come off in about a week. There will be a memo to that effect." Then he quickly added: "It ought to be quite wild..."
"Groovy. Let's see how it works."
"Is that all you've got to say."
"What do you want me to say?" Slight pause.
"Nothing I guess. Except, it's mighty hard to be friendly to you, it seems."
"Maybe it's the generation gap," Bob smiled in an effort to pacify the jowled, balding man.
Dewey har-hared.
A wonder his face didn't crack, Bob thought smugly. Then ... ' He left.
The week passed with lots of fucking and sucking between Bob and his four girls. So far, no one else, not even Dewey and Brock knew that Bob and his four girls were living together. As a matter-of-fact, Dewey didn't really know what connection Bob had with the three girls Anne, Louise and Lorraine. He had never been able to get Bob to tell him the set up.
He only knew that either Bob had something on the girls, or that all three girls dug him; and on that basis they did whatever he suggested to them to do.
Dewey figured they were grateful for his seeing that they kept their jobs. Another matter-of-fact; neither Dewey nor Brock knew that Mona had now become one of them.
Once in a while they would see her going to lunch with Bob and the girls, but it was never consistent. Therefore, they still considered Mona an outsider, as just another of the employees.
Bob and the girls and Mona had discussed and agreed on this tactic. Mona was to absolutely associate with them on an objective level while at work. Sometimes, she would meet up with them on the train by accident, but never intentionally.
It might seem hard to believe, but all you really have to consider is the fact of how long it had been before Mona had finally gotten her first taste of cock. Then, I'm sure you can understand as she did. She was doing absolutely "nothing" to jeopardize her position. Placing Bob and or any of the quartet under suspicion or apprehension was not going to help her situation at all.
She still didn't know anything about how to go about getting herself a man.
No. She was satisfied with Bob. She too, was beginning to enjoy the sensual softness of lesbian love; of freaking with the other girls, particularly on Bob's "rest" nights.
The day of the office party was fast approaching. The air was filled with a strange excitement. Even the old biddies working there felt it, but they didn't know what it was. They along with all the other workers had received the green memo informing them that in honor of the management's appreciation for uncompromising loyalty of each individual employee; that there would be a party in their honor-the employees-of which they would participate, and indulge to their hearts' content.
The whole floor would be closed off from visitors of any kind. There would also be a small band to play live music for their entertainment.
Some of them (the employees) had been to office dinners which were held at one fine hotel in the city. Sometimes they were held at another, but never had they been in an office party. Well, let's say nothing more than a little cookies and candy being passed around, an exchange of best wishes, and then they all went the hell home and got drunk on their own booze, with their own money.
This hinted to be better than anything else they had ever been connected with-at least, at the working level.
Oddly enough, there had been no rumors of any sort of strange get-to-gether. It was only whispered by the ones Bob had promised to take care of. Even the guy whom Bob had smashed in the face was being cool. That was not only because the other two guys had promised to kick the shit out of him if he opened his mouth.
The guy was down. He wanted to check out this "office pussy." The party would be sure to provide him with not only an excuse, but a way to do it.
The others-and there were others-the majority-still believed that when Dewey had said a girl passed out in the stockroom-they took it for the truth. Why shouldn't they? Dewey was a nice boss. He was strict. But he tried to be fair.
More than one of them had been up against it, when they had gone to see Dewey about time off. They had found him quite fair and understanding of their situations, whatever they happened to be at the time.
That is, not to mention the fact that there were of course, a few of those old biddies who secretly desired for Dewey to get into their pants.
Cheating on their old fagged-out husbands never entered their mind. They often wondered at the delights Dewey shared with his wife. It must have been something else to crawl in bed with such a "well-to-do" man-a man of such great influence.
More than one of them had noticed that Dewey tended to shy away from the "official" business suit.
Dewey didn't even approach the avant-garde. But his suits were-stylish. That was the word-stylish. He didn't wear his pants as tight as the younger fellows but most certainly didn't wear them as loose-fitting as most of the old codgers.
And more than once, Helen thought, she had detected the faint outline of where his cock hung.
She'd never cheat on her husband. Neither would her other two working companions, Lucy, and Gussie. But they had talked about it. Well, you know, just little tid-bits of observation.
"That old flame isn't dead yet," Lucy had snickered lecherously.
"You ought to be ashamed of yourself." Ciussic said. "But--"
"But what--" Helen sniggled her old-biddie sniggle.
"Well." Gussie started, "it has been quite a while since I've had sex with my husband. He suffers from lumbago you know."
"Gussie." Lucy gasped in mocked surprise. Then they all burst out in a fit of old-biddie giggling.
"Yes by the way, Helen, how is your dog?"
"My dog?" Helen snapped, her hands on her hips as she sat there behind her desk of accounting sheets. "I'm not speaking to my dog. So don't say a thing to me about him. Do you know what that little son of a bitch did? He crawled up on my bed last night and wiggled himself beneath the blankets. And I awoke to find him licking me..."
"Where?" the other two biddies gasped, in secretive unison.
"You know where..." she answered in a confidential whisper, and with mock disgust.
The office party was set for the following Friday. The week seemed to drag from everyone. Only Bob and the girls indulged themselves completely with sexual pleasure.
The party to them was nothing but a means to coordinate the situation of being caught fucking in the stockroom.
The people Bob had asked to be cool until things were "straightened out," were waiting. This party was for their benefit. To get them off Bob's back.
Finally, the party started.
Dewey made a not too lengthy introduction of some of the company partners, said the toast, then they all commenced to eat the wonderful food which was laid out everywhere.
Everyone, or just about every, agreed to start at the punch-bowl. And then if they felt like it,, they would work up to the "rough" stuff.
Hank and Frank, two of the three guys who had came in on the stockroom scene a couple of weeks back started to christen one of the bottles that were laid out at their disposal. None of that fucking around with the silly punch-bowl stuff for them. They were j men-drinkers. They "knew" what it was all about. None of that namby-pamby bullshit for them.
"No sireee," Frank slurred not more than a half-hour later. He reached over and pinched the ass of a girl standing on the other side of his desk calmly indulging in a three-way conversation with some other girls.
"Eeeek," she giggled, feeling a little high, herself. "You sneaky thing, you."
Frank rolled his eyes at Hank, giving him that knowing look. This was a confirmation that Frank was the big time lover, he claimed to be.
Hank smiled back at him, and looked the girl up and down, Yep! She had some goodies on her. Uh-huh. She damn sure did.
"Hank," Bob said, pulling at his sleeve, this is Denise."
Hank eyed her critically. Looking for a flaw and so far, finding none.
"Hi," he introduced himself, with no excitement and seemingly, no interest in his voice.
"Denise is here to fulfill a promise."
"And I think it will be a pleasure," Denise interjected, a bright smile flashing across her face, a twinkle in her eyes.
Hank could not mistake the look she gave him. And in spite of himself, she turned him on. Hank left the girl for something else. He went to the punch bowl. Hank got his revenge by putting "Spanish Fly" in the punch bowl. Before long all hell broke lose.
Some of the band members were having a little trouble playing as they witnessed this. The girl threw her arms around the partner's neck and began shoving her mid-section into his groin. She giggled as he pulled his mouth away from hers and slid her juicy lips down along side his neck.
Bob began to scope. Shit, there was someone with one of the secretaries bent back over a desk, with his hand up her, up to the elbow. Her short skirt was up more than half way her thighs. One of her legs were raised daintily up in the air.
His eyes left the scene just in time to see the door to the stockroom swing open slowly, and a pair of lovely legs which had been propped up against it, fell lazily to the floor.
There was someone between them. Good fucking grief! They were fucking in the doorway.
Bob looked away. While he had been scoping, Hank and Frank had been passing out drinks left and right from the punch-bowl.
There was the sudden whirl of a typewriter carriage returning to the other end of the track. Bob turned around to see one of the girls laid back across one of the desk, her head laying atop the typewriter (which had caused it to reject,) and her arms open wide, as one of the office studs crawled up on the desk between her splayed legs.
Bob watched as the stud, unzipped his pants, unholstered his cock, and stuck it up her cunt. Someone else gasped. But a hand shot out and grabbed her by the ass.
Hank got his revenge, when after he left he called the police. The police raided the party and Bob was ruined by the scandal.