Chapter 2
Old Mr. Rocklin was the President of the Founder's Bank. He was tall and thin, with a full shock of gray hair. He retained the vigor and personality on a man twenty years his junior. Behind his large oak desk in his luxurious office was a small framed tapestry. Close inspection revealed what it said: "There may be snow on the roof, but there's still fire in the chimney."
And indeed there was. In his younger day, Mr. Rocklin had been quite the cocksman, keeping a stable of satisfied mistresses. He went from woman to woman, sometimes seeing as many as three a day and still having enough to take care of his wife when he got home at night. They loved him for his money, for his imagine cars and nice clothes, and for the way he knew how to treat a lady. Out of bed they were the Queen of
England and in bed the Whore of Babylon. His skewering thickness was a legend among the married women in town and an object of fear and rumor amongst the single girls.
Abe Rocklin had rightfully called himself the "cock 'o the walk" for many years. When a bitch gave him trouble or became a little boring he'd drop her without a second thought and get two more to take her place.
A strange thing happened to Mr. Abe Rocklin around his 60th birthday. That proud blue-veined stiffness of his, that wonderful meaty erection, just plain stopped working. As he moaned to his friends down at the golf club, "The goddamn thing won't get up anymore! Son-of-a-bitch!"
He tried everything he could to get some action out of that shriveled giant. He bought leather outfits, whips and chains and subjected his poor wife to ordeals she'd never thought existed outside the wilds of darkest Africa. He went to porn movies, bought stacks and stacks of magazines, went to hookers and massage parlors. No dice. As a last desperate chance he tried to fuck an angelic young boy. Nothing. No hard-ons. Eight doctors at six different hospitals were of no help either.
But Mr. Rocklin was a self-made man. He'd risen to the top of his profession by never giving up, by never throwing in the towel. So he kept trying because he was convinced that all he needed was the right person to bring that massive cock of his back to life.
When he first laid eyes upon Mary Jenkins as a new employee he immediately assumed that God had heard and answered his prayers. She was everything a man could want-from the blue pools of her eyes, to the shimmering blonde hair that bounced so prettily upon her shoulders, to her body-Good God, what a body! and finally, there was her smile. Old Abe couldn't figure out just what it was with that smile, but he knew that every time he saw it, at least a little blood was pumped into that drought-stricken member of his.
After her first week of work, Mary received word that Mr. Rocklin wanted to see her in his office. She first went to the ladies room to comb out her blonde hair and apply a new gloss to her pink lipstick. Mary knew about men and was well aware that her good looks could take her far in the world.
When she entered the President's office, Mr. Rocklin was sitting behind his big desk, smoking a huge cigar. He had a small half-smile on his face and his eyes never left Mary from the moment she entered the door. Mary was nervous-the fact that she was new on the job, that she was seeing the President of the bank, and the size of that important office all contributed to her insecurities.
Mr. Rocklin took a puff of his cigar, "Sit down, will you, Mary."
Mary sat shyly in the plush leather seat in front of the desk. She slowly crossed the legs, being extra careful to sit modestly in the office of the President. Mary knew well of her powers where men were concerned, but in this instance she assumed because of Mr. Rocklin's age and position he would treat her more like a granddaughter than anything else.
"I'd like to welcome you to Founder's Bank, Miss Jenkins. May I call you Mary?"
"Oh, of course, sir!"
"Now, now . . . you needn't call me sir. Mr. Rocklin will do just fine. Anyway, I'm not a man to waste time or beat around the bush, so to speak. I noticed you out working the windows and had a little chat with Mrs. Lamp, your head teller. She says you've been working out just fine, that you learn real fast and that you have a lot of ambition. Is that true, Mary?" Mr. Rocklin leaned forward, leering across the desk.
"Is, is what true, sir-I mean Mr. Rocklin?"
"Is it true that you're an ambitious girl?"
"Oh, yes, Mr. Rocklin, I want to go just as far as lean in this world." Mary smiled demurely. Mary looked up behind the President and read the tapestry hanging on the wall-"There may be smoke on the chimney, but there's still fire in the furnace." It began to dawn on her that Mr. Rocklin, for all his distinguished gray hairs, was not going to be much of a grandfather figure. The old goat is just like all the other men, she thought.
"Well, Mary, that's the stuff I like to here. I like a girl with gumption, some get up and go. Someone who's willing to make sacrifices to go far. Are you a girl who's willing to make sacrifices, Mary?"
"I don't think I understand what you mean Mr.
Rocklin. . . . "
"Mary," Mr. Rocklin snuffed out his cigar and walked over to the bar, "would you like a drink?"
"I don't know if that would be such a good idea during working hours, Mr. Rocklin."
"Tut, tut, sweetheart, I'm the President of the damn bank and I'm offering you a drink. What would you like?"
"A seven-up?"
"Coming right up, one seven-up, with a little dose of Seagram's Seven-just what the working girl needs. I'm having my usual Jack Daniels."
Rocklin went and sat on the big black leather couch which faced the window looking out at the sprawl of the city below. He placed the drinks on the coffee table in front. "Well, girl, if you want this drink you aren't going to be able to get it sitting over there in that chair. Come on over, get comfortable on the couch and tell me a little bit about yourself. I make a point of knowing our new employees as intimately as possible-especially those who might be considered for promotion at some time in the future."
Mary went and sat on the far end of the couch. She was very nervous but didn't want to make her employer upset with her. Mr. Rocklin could be a big help in her plans for advancement-that is, she thought, if the price I have to pay isn't too high.
Mary took a tentative sip of her drink and grimaced. If there was any seven-up in the darn thing it didn't taste like it. She couldn't believe that it was the middle of the banking day, she was sitting on the couch in the old geezer's office and it looked like he was trying to get her drunk. Well, he was a man, after all, and she guessed she'd better handle him like one.
When she smiled her smile, looking straight into those old eyes, Mr. Rocklin looked like he was about to have a coronary.
"I think it's really nice of you to single me out from all the other girls and invite to your office, Mr. Rocklin." Mary batted her eyes.
"Uh . . . hmmm . . . Well, uh, like I said, Mary dear, I do like to get to know my new employees. And let them get to know me-so why don't you just call me Abe? At least while we're just by ourselves." Mr. Rocklin began sliding closer to her on the couch.
"okay, Abe. As long as we're going to be friends.. . but why are you sliding so close over here?"
By now Mister Rocklin was sitting right next to Mary, pinning against the corner of the couch. He smelled like cigars and whiskey.
"Mary, honey, as I said earlier I'm not a man to beat around the bush. Now, when I saw you out there working your window, when I saw that beautiful face of yours, those long, sexy legs, that blonde hair, I said to myself, Goddamn, Abe-there's a girl who might have a future in this company."
Mary was getting very nervous. If she'd learned anything at all in her dealings with men, it was the fact that at this point they almost always attempt to make love to her. She knew that she didn't want to do that, but on the other hand, the last person she wanted mad at her was the president of the bank.
"Now, sweetie, how 'bout giving old Abe a little kiss?" He leaned over closer to her.
Mary put a hand over his mouth. "Mr. Rocklin-Abe, I mean. I find you really attractive-such a distinguished man. But-oh, and you don't know how much I want to, I really do-but, I think of you as a father. . . . "
"Well, goddamn it," snorted Mr. Rocklin, "you'd better start thinking about incest."
With that he put his arm around her, pulled her close and brought his lips down on hers, forcing his cigar-tasting tongue deep into her hot, wet mouth.
Mary thought that an old guy like this couldn't possibly do anything more than a kiss and since he could help her get a better job. . . .
She leaned into his kiss, flicking her tongue deep into Mr. Rocklin's wrinkled mouth, causing the gray hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end. Mr. Rocklin felt just the slightest tingle of excitement in that long dormant crotch of his.
He placed his hand on her breast and gasped at their fullness, their firm life. Mary brushed his hand off. M r. Rocklin in one swift movement darted his hand between her legs and grabbed her struggling cunt from outside her panties in a firm grip.
Mary was struggling and whimpering and the more resistance she put up, the more excited Mr. Rocklin became. She tried pulling his hand out from under her dress, but he was too strong for her. She could feel his hand probing through the soft cotton of her undies, felt a finger find the moist forbidden orifice and mercilessly push its way in.
"Mr. Rocklin!" gasped Mary. "What are you doing?"
"Dammit, Gal, if you don't know what I'm doing then you're about to find out! Now help me out and spread those nice long legs of yours a little. . . . "
"Mr. Rocklin, no! Please, no!"
He pushed her backwards on the couch, one hand rubbing her pussy, her skirt hiked up around her waist revealing her milk-white thighs, the other hand was under her blouse, kneading and rubbing the fullness of her young breast.
Mary was astounded by his strength and desire. There was no stopping him, even though she fought back as well as she could. She yelped as she felt his hand slide under her panties and part her moist cuntal walls. But what frightened her most was the heat, the desire she felt building within her own unsatisfied body-as if the animal deep within her was once again trying to force its way out.
She knew her pussy was wet and her nipples hard. His hand found the button of her desire in the creamy depths of her pussy and with one finger he slowly increased her raging genital heat.
But Mary was still fighting-fighting both Mr. Rocklin and her own desire. By now his hand viciously pulled her bra up around her neck, exposing her full creamy breasts with their hot pink nipples. Mr.
Rocklin had gotten his mouth around one and was sucking voraciously while his hand worked her hair-ringed fissure.
Mary knew she had one last chance. For a second she stopped struggling, stopped fighting. Mr. Rocklin grunted in victory and let up long enough to unbutton the top of his slacks. At this instant, Mary leapt up and ran to the far side of the big oak desk with Mr. Rocklin in hot pursuit. They stood and faced each other, panting from different sides of the desk. Mary's clothes were in total disarray. Her neck, exposing the magnificence of her firm young breasts, heaving up and down with her heavy breathing. Her skirt was pulled apart and her panties and nylons were pushed down around her knees, revealing her pubic vee with its downy hairs. Her lipstick was smeared and her hair was wild from the passion.
"Goddam it, Mary!" gasped old Mr. Rocklin, between breaths, "I want your pussy and I want it now!"
For a second Mary thought of Davy and wished that he were half the man that old Mr. Rocklin was. But she also knew she didn't want her cherry to go to an old bank president during the middle of a working day.
Mr. Rocklin would move to the left and Mary would counter on the other side of the desk so that the distance between them remained the same. Mary took every chance to re-arrange her clothing so she presented some semblance of decency.
Mr. Rocklin had a glazed look of animal lust on his craggy old features. He stared at Mary like a hungry hunter who's quarry is cornered just out of reach.
"Dammit, Mary! Why are you doing this to me? How long do you think I can keep this up. Look, sweetie, do you know how long its been since I've had a hard-on? A full ten goddamn years!! That's how long it's been, and I've got a swollen blue veiner that wants to split you right in two. I've waited ten years for this and I want these sperm laden balls to bounce on your sweet pink asshole and hear you scream for joy!! ! "
"Mr. Rocklin! Don't talk like that-it's so vulgar. . . . "
"Vulgar, my ass!! I'll show you vulgar, you hot young bitch!" Mr. Rocklin lunged around the side of the table, barely missing the frantically fleeing Mary. She sprinted to the door and slammed it in his face as she disappeared on the other side. Mr. Rocklin's secretary gave Mary a sly, all-knowing look as Mary walked past on her way to the teller's window.
Back in the office Mr. Rocklin sunk deep into his leather chair, affectionately patting what remained of his hard-on. He smiled and thought, "Damn, that new gal has got a lot of spirit. I'm going to try that again soon. The old boy can still get it up, yesirree!! ! " Mr. Rocklin turned to gaze up at the tapestry behind his desk and smiled with satisfaction.