Chapter 2
"Miss Mendell, you may send in my next patient now," Paul said into the intercom on his large mahagony desk.
A girlish giggle was the response from the voice on the other end.
"Miss Mandell, I said you may-"
"Oh, Paul, you don't have to be so formal. There's no one out here waiting to see you."
"No?"
"Nope. Here I sit, all by myself, slowly going bananas over this stupid old electric typewriter. I don't know why you took away the beat-up portable I was using."
"How many bills have you typed up, Mary?" asked Paul, a small smile on his face.
"None."
"What?"
"I can't help it, Paul. This clumsy old thing refuses to cooperate and I keep making mistakes. I'm sorry."
Paul sighed. "I told you, Mary, that I wanted all those bills typed up and mailed out by noon today. Now here it is almost twelve o'clock and you tell me you haven't even addressed one bill yet. Is that what you call efficiency?"
"I said I was sorry, didn't I?" Mary said, turning just a wee bit huffy. "If it'll make you happy, Paul, I'll work my lunch hour and get these fucking bills completed."
"It would make me happy, Mary. And listen, watch your language out there, will you?"
"I told you I'm all alone, boss."
"I know, but if you get in the habit of talking dirty when you're alone, you might just slip up one day and say something in front of a couple of patients. And that wouldn't go far toward creating a proper impression, now, would it?"
"No, I suppose not," Mary answered meekly. "I promise to be more careful."
"Good. You can save all those naughty words for when we're alone."
"When we're fucking, you mean."
"Mary."
"Ooop, I did it again. Sorry, boss. Maybe I feel like talking dirty because I'm so horny for you. I have an itch betwen my legs that you just wouldn't believe."
Paul couldn't force back the grin that spread over his face. "Mary, my sweet, you always have an itch between your legs. Sometimes I think you were born playing with yourself."
"Now who's talking naughty, Doctor Latham?"
"Alright, let's forget it, baby. Now tell me why you're alone in the reception room. How come Mrs. Jennifer Wagner hasn't yet planted her beautiful behind in one of those cushy chairs out there? Her appointment was for eleven-thirty, wasn't it?"
"Right. But Mrs. Wagner and her beautiful behind will not be gracing your office today."
"How come?"
"She phoned to cancel her appointment-said something about a small emergency that had arisen suddenly."
"A small emergency?"
"That's what the lady said."
"Did she go into details?"
"Nope. But she didn't seem too upset. She apologized for canceling the appointment and asked if she could be rescheduled for some time tomorrow."
"So?"
"So I told the lady with the fair fanny that she could have the hour between two and three tomorrow. Does that sit all right with you, boss?"
"Sure. Now tell me-"
"You didn't get it, did you?"
" Get what?"
"I described Mrs. Wagner as having a fair fanny and then asked if her new time slot sat well with you. Sit and fanny, get it?"
Paul shook his head and grinned. "Mary, you're an absolute riot. You should have been a comedienne instead of a psychologist's secretary."
"As a matter-of-fact, I've often thought of going on the stage. Not as a comedienne, but as a stripper."
Paul chuckled softly. "I agree, baby. You're much better at taking off your clothes than you are at telling jokes."
"Mmmm, and you should know, Doctor," Mary purred.
"Have I told you lately that you're an insatiable little minx, Miss Mandell?"
"Not lately, lover."
"Well you are, you know. Now if you can take your mind off sex for just a minute, I'd appreciate a rundown of my afternoon appointments."
"Okay. Hold it a sec while I dig out the appointment calendar. It should be right, mmmm, that's funny. I could have sworn I flipped it back into the center desk drawer after changing Mrs.-"
"Mary, you haven't lost the damn thing, have you?"
"Of course not. Just have a little patience, will you?"
Paul muttered a curse under his breath and then began an impatient tapping of the desk with the fingers of his right hand. A picture of his saucy secretary rummaging through her cluttered desk for the missing appointment calendar popped into his mind. He could see her there in the outer office, her sweet little ass in excited squirm on the desk as she pulled open the drawers and foraged about in their contents.
Why did he keep her on, he wondered. Mary was inefficient, rather lazy, quick to complain and even quicker to take a day off when the mood struck. To put it simply, his secretary was as dumb as she was desirable-which was very.
But here, of course, lay the answer to the question posed, Paul admitted to himself. The only reason he didn't send Miss Mary Mandell scurrying to her place on the unemployment line was because of her desirability. In plain language, he resisted the sometimes strong urge to fire her because to do so would mean the loss of a scrumptious piece of ass.
And if nothing else, Mary was that. A scrumptious piece of ass with an appetite for sex any man would find positively delightful. She could be snotty, at times downright nasty, but when she swiveled into his office, her prick-stiffening curves obscenely defined by the tight, breast-hugging sweaters and blouses she always wore, her taut, rounded rump snugly encased in a colorful mini so short it lifted eyebrows on the street, then it was that he forgot about her sloppy secretarial work and concentrated on her cunt.
At the moment, however, all he wanted from his secretary were the names of those patients he'd be counseling in the afternoon.
"Mary, what the hell are you doing out there? How could you misplace something as important as-"
"Oh, wait a minute," Mary interrupted. "I just had an idea."
Paul's eyes rolled in their sockets. Again he found himself waiting for the sound of Mary's voice to come over the intercom.
"Okay, I found it," his secretary announced triumphantly.
"Good. Where was it?"
"In the wastebasket."
"In the-"
"It must have fallen off the desk and into the basket when I wasn't looking."
"Alright, Mary," Paul sighed. "Just tell me who I'll be seeing today."
"Well, let's see now. MMmmm...."
"It's Wednesday, Mary."
"I know what day it is, Doctor," came the curt reply.
Good for you, Paul thought.
"Okay, here we go," Mary said authoritatively, as if preparing to read from a highly-technical, complex manual of some sort. "You can expect a visit from Brian Reese at two o'clock and one from Ruth Lane at three-fifteen. Your last appointment of the day is with that teenage brat, Christine Clements. She's due to saunter in here at four-thirty."
"That's it? Just three appointments?"
"That's all, Doc. Sounds like an interesting afternoon, huh? I mean, you'll be talking to a guy with an Oedipus complex, a middle-aged dame who's terrified of growing old, and a filthy rich, snot-nosed kid who has been arrested six times for shoplifting. Now that's what I call a cast of characters."
"I wish you wouldn't make fun of my patients, Mary. I never should have let you talk me into showing you my files. The information in them is supposed to be strictly confidential."
"You know you can trust me, Paul, sweetheart. Tell me, have you laid the Lane dame yet? Something tells me she's aching for that nice juicy pecker of yours."
"You think so, do you?"
"She's a natural, isn't she? A forty-four-year-old spinster who's afraid of getting old isn't about to turn down a chance to put a little excitement into her otherwise drab existence. Who knows, Miss Lane might even be a virgin. Wouldn't that be a real fuckinger, I mean, wouldn't that be something?"
"If I find out, I'll let you know, alright? Now why don't you get back to work on-"
"I've never met a dame that old who was still intact down there. Imagine going through life without getting humped at least once? Hell, I lost my cherry when I was fourteen, Paul."
"You're to be congratulated."
"Don't be sarcastic. It so happens that I was seduced when under the influence of alcohol. The guy was a senior at Cloverdale High and-"
"Some other time, Mary, okay?" Paul interrupted, suddenly very tired of listening to his secretary's voice. On top of her other faults, which at times severely tried his patience, Mary would on occasion turn chatterbox, rambling on and on ad nauseum about events in her life she regarded as trmendously important and of interest to the whole world. She could talk a blue streak about the most trivial matters, pausing only ocassionaly for air. And yet-yet, she was one helluva good lay.
"Don't you want to hear all about my getting fucked--er, that is, seduced at the tender age of fourteen?"
"Maybe later. Right now I'd like you to get back to those bills. Buzz me when you're finished, alright?"
"How would it be if I stayed late tonight and typed up these bill,"
"Why do that when you can work on them now?"
"Because just talking to you has made my itch worse. Would you believe that I've got a hand up under my skirt at this very moment. I-ohhh, that feels so nice. Paul, I'm so sticky down there!"
"Take your hand from your crotch and put it on the typewriter, Mary. Maybe we can get together after my last appointment."
"Not till then? I don't know if I can hold out that long. I'm leaking all over the chair, Paul."
"Will power, baby," Paul suggested with a small grin. "You'll just have to exert a little self-control."
"But you haven't done it to me since Monday. How am I suppose to concentrate on my work when I'm horny as hell?"
"Try."
"Why can't we do it now? You have over two hours to kill before that Mama's boy, Brian Reese, walks in. That's plenty of time to-"
"I'm not going to kill time, Mary," Paul explained, a touch of exasperation in his voice. "I want to look over the file on Reese and run the tape of our last interview."
"That's not going to take two hours," Mary persisted.
"I also thought I would eat lunch. That is, if you have no objections."
"Lunch? How about eating me instead?"
"Mary."
"And you can stuff it up my ass, Paul. You know how much you like banging me in the behind."
"Mary, will you-"
"And I'll eat you, too. After you've pulled your cock from my shitty rectum I'll get down on my knees and-"
"Enough, Miss Mandell," Paul shouted into the intercom. "If you behave yourself and get those bills out, we might just be able to squeeze in some fun and games before the day is through. Now, over and out."
"Over and out," Mary said sadly, softly, sounding as if she had just lost her very best friend.
A broad grin washed over Paul's face as he settled back into the swivel-rocker behind his large desk. The little bitch was just too much, he thought. She was probably pouting now, calling him every name under the sun as she struggled to master the electric typewriter he'd purchased to give the outer office an extra touch of class.
Well, let her suffer out there. By the time he got around to plumbing her pretty pussy, she'd be hotter than an exploding firecracker, her vagina twitching and salivating like crazy. Maybe he would take her suggestion and plug her pert fanny. It had been a while since the last time he explored the deliciously snug channel of Mary's rectum.
She liked it in back almost as much as she did in front. In that respect, his secretary was very much like his wife. Valerie, too, derived perverse pleasure from a good, strong ass-fuck. How she would moan and carry on as he sawed his turgid prick in and out of her clasping-shit chute.
Val had moaned and carried on last night, Paul remembered with satisfaction. He had fucked her to a fare-thee-well, smashing his cock into her pulsating cunt with all the strength he could command as she spewed filth into his ear and urged him on to even greater effort.
And at the end, in a mind-blowing finish, she had rent the air with an animalistic howl of utter joy, raking her sharp nails across his back and biting down hard into his shoulder as her flowing come washed over his imbedded prick. Then, a little while later, she curled up into a ball at his side and fell asleep while tenderly mouthing his limp, gooey organ.
Yes, it had been very, very good, Paul mused. Of course, sex with Val was almost always very, very good. Just being married to her was great, as great as was the life he had carved out for himself since his graduation nineteen years ago from good old State University, a Bachelor of Science degree in pscyhology under one arm.
There weren't too many men his age who could say in all honestly that they were completely satisfied with things as they stood, that they harbored no regrets over opportunities missed or chances not taken, that all those dreams they had dared dream had come true, thus making the desire for more something of an absurdity, the wish of a truly avaricious individual.
But he could say all these things and mean every word. All those goodies which, when properly blended, formed the good, satisfying life, he had in abundance. And what made it especially sweet was the fact that he had no one to thank for his successful and fulfilling life. He had done it on his own-with an occasional assist here and there from fate, of course.
Getting started had been tough, Paul recalled, but hard work and perseverance had paid off in the end. He had had to work his way through college, holding down not one but two jobs while at the same time trying to maintain a B-plus average so that he could apply to a respectable graduate school.
The year spent in graduate school had not been without its good moments, but again he had had to work to pay his tuition, running himself ragged as he heeded the demands of a six-days-a-week job and attended the required seminars. Many were the nights he spent burning the midnight oil, cramming for tests, preparing carefully-documented theses, his besieged brain trying to absorb the theory-laden and sometimes ambiguous studies of behavior found in his psychology and sociology texts.
Finally he was ready to challenge the world, a Master's degree resting alongside his B.S. After obliging Uncle Sam, who dressed him in army fatigues and shipped him off to Korea for two years, he accepted a position in a clinic, where for six years, as an overworked, underpaid Clinical Psychologist, he studied the behavior of hundreds. To make ends meet he returned to school, this time to teach Psych I at a nearby college and suffer the pseudo-intellectualism of students already convinced that Freud was wrong about everything.
Yes, those were the tough years, Paul mused. Everything didn't start to fall into place until he opened his own practice. If he had one small regret, it was that he had not hung out his shingle earlier. Then again, the time spent at that clinic had proved very worthwhile, enabling him to test and expand upon the theories learned in school while he established a solid reputation for himself as an imaginative psychologist unafraid of hard work.
It would be eleven years next month since he interviewed his first patient in this office. Hard to believe, but true. The years had flown by, one following the other in rapid succession, and now here he was, still healthy as a horse, still wanting to fuck every pretty girl he saw, comparatively young, and with nary a problem to trouble his mind.
His annual income was something he still found hard to believe. Of course, when one's services were rendered at the cost of fifty dollars per hour, and when one had more patients than time to counsel them, it stood to reason that the money would just keep piling up and up.
It was because of his lucrative practice that he owned a fabulous house in the heart of ultra-stylish Ocean Grove, one of the wealthiest and most beautiful residential communities in the entire state. A rambling split-level ranch it was, one he had built to his specifications for a cool sixty-nine thousand dollars.
The willingness of his patients to lay out fifty bucks for an hour's visit enabled him to drive to his handsomely-decorated, pine-paneled office in a cream-colored Cadillac, which at home could usually be found parked in the specious driveway alongside Valerie's two-year-old, fire-engine red Triumph. How he loved to slip behind the wheel of that powerful automobile and drive to work, thinking, as he savored the splendor of the passing scenery on his way to Crestmont, a community almost as pleasing to the eye as Ocean Grove, of all the pathetic, problem-laden people he would see during the week.
But enough of this, Paul thought, jerking himself back to the present as he pushed up out of the swivel-rocker. It was time to get back to work. He would run the tape of his last interview with Brian Reese, study once again the man's case history, and then grab a bite to eat.
Unfortunately, his afternoon would not be as interesting as he had thought it would be. It was a shame that Jennifer Wagner had cancelled her appointment, for he had been looking forward to treating her as she so loved to be treated. But at least the lovely Mrs. Wagner hadn't decided to stop seeing him. She would be in his office tomorrow and he would be ready-ready to again 'help' her with her little problem.
In the meantime, there was always his sexy secretary, Paul reminded himself, smiling inwardly as he slipped the tape he had gotten from a locked cabinet onto the recorder. Mary could always be depended upon in a pitch.
"What's up, Doc? As if I didn't know."
"It's not up yet, baby," Paul said with a grin. "But close the door and we'll see if we can't remedy that situation."
Mary smiled sardonically. "So now the good doctor is horny, is he?"
"I'm ready to do some scratching, Mary. You did say you had a really annoying itch, didn't you?"
"That was before noon-almost five hours ago."
"So?"
"So suppose I've changed my mind. Maybe I just don't take to the idea of having to wait for what I want."
"What did you do, sweetheart? Sneak out for a quickie during the afternoon?"
"I was sorely tempted, Doctor Latham," Mary answered.
Paul chuckled. "C'mon over here, Miss Smart-Ass, before I get up from this chair and-"
"Threaten me and I quit," snapped Mary, cutting her employer off in mid-sentence.
Paul looked at the sassy brown-eyed brunette standing a few feet from his office door, her hands jammed onto her hips as she struck a defiant pose. For a fleeting moment he considered going over there and getting the uppity little minx, dragging her by the hair across the office and flinging her, face down, over his large desk.
A good old-fashioned mean fuck could always be counted on to take the starch out of Miss Mandell.
But why bother, he asked himself. There wasn't any need to expend that kind of energy. Mary would come to him of her own volition. In a few minutes, and quite possibly less than that, she would tire of this little act of hers and start peeling. Her need to get humped would catch up to her desire to get back at him for making her wait.
He'd just play along with this five-foot-four-inch package of pulchritude and see how long she could control the demand of her cunt for hot, thick cock.
"Well, Mary, if you don't want to get laid, you may as well leave. By the way, I assume you managed to finish that stack of bills for me.
"They're finished."
"Good." Paul took his eyes away from his sexy secretary and pretended to be interested in clearing his desk as he shuffled a few loose papers together.
Mary shifted her weight from one foot to the other, an expression of disgust on her pretty face as she stared at her employer. "You know something, Doctor," she said finally, "you can be a real louse at times."
Paul looked up from his desk. "Who, me?"
"Yes Paul. You. I have a good mind to walk out of here and go home to Jack."
"Jack? Who's he?"
"My boy friend, that's who."
Paul grinned. "The latest one, you mean. What happened to the bloke you were going with?"
"Tim? He left me for some pill-popping slut he met in a coffee house."
"Too bad."
"Not really. I was getting tired of Tim anyway."
"How long did you know him?"
"About five weeks."
"And you got tired of him after just five weeks?"
Mary shrugged. "I like variety in my sex life."
"That's the understatement of the year, sweetheart," Paul declared with a smirk. "You go through boyfriends faster than most women go through the day's wash."
"It's going to be different with Jack."
"Why? Does he have a twelve-inch prick?"
"Funny, Doctor. Very, very funny. It just so happens that I like Jack Talbot very much and may even decide to marry him."
"Oh?" Paul's smile faded just a little. The possibility existed that if his secretary-receptionist married this jerk Jack, he would lose her services, professional and otherwise. He would miss the maddening little minx, he thought. Well, that wasn't exactly right. What he would miss were those moments spent screwing her silly.
"Jack has just one very bad characteristic trait. He's terribly possessive and gets almost violent if I so much as look at another guy."
"That could be bad," Paul opined.
"You're telling me. When I happened to mention that I had laid you, he flew into-"
"What? You told this character about us?"
"It was an accident, Paul. I mean, we got into this bad argument and just to hurt him I said I had been messing around with my boss and-"
"That's beautiful, baby. Just beautiful."
"Well, maybe I shouldn't have said anything. But no harm came out of it. To you, that is. He thew me over his knee and walloped the daylights out of my poor ass. I couldn't set comfortably for three whole days."
"Well, I hope it taught you a lesson, sweetheart. The last thing I need is for some clown to come tearing in here and-"
"Jack is not a clown," Mary broke in sharply. "He just gets upset when he thinks about me with other men."
"How many others have you told?"
"Nobody else. Shit, I don't know why you're making such a big production out of this. It's not as if I had handed out pamphlets to everyone in Crestmont informing them of my affair with Dr. Paul Latham."
"I wouldn't put it past you, Mary."
"That's stupid," Mary said, her tone of voice much softer than before. She approached her employer's desk and stood with her hands clasped in front of her. "When a girl likes a man she doesn't go out of her way to hurt his career or embarrass him."
"And you like me, huh?" Paul asked, unable to stop a small smile forming on his face.
Mary nodded. "Contrary to what you may think, I don't let just any old guy lay me. I've got to like a man before I'll permit him in my pants."
"So you're ready now to screw, is that it?"
"Uh huh."
"A few minutes ago you were on your way home to Mr. Talbot."
"I just said that because I was mad at you for not doing it to me at noontime. You should have seen me out there, Paul. I had my hand up under my skirt and I was rubbing my cunt to beat the band."
Paul grinned. "And you're still hot, huh?"
Mary nodded. "Very hot. I'm standing here leaking like a bloody faucet."
"Show me, baby, just how hungry for cock you are."
Mary needed no further prompting. Her hands went immediately to her tangerine blouse, fingers fumbling with the buttons down the front. After depositing the blouse on Paul's desk, she kicked off her white shoes and then lowered the zipper at the side of her fanny-hugging beige skirt.
Seconds later she was stepping out of the skirt, straightening up to place it atop her blouse on the desk. Smiling at her employer, she reached around in back to undo the clasp of her cream-colored brassiere.
"Leave that little chore for me," Paul said. "You just get those pantyhose off."
" Anything you say," Mary breathed. "You're the doctor."
Paul pushed up out of his chair and stepped to the large picture window behind his desk. There was little danger of anyone sneaking a peek at him while he fucked Mary, his office being on the twelfth floor of a building which faced a sprawling, many-acred park. Still, he felt better when he took the added precaution of drawing the blinds.
When he turned around he found Mary smiling at him. She was naked now except for the bra he had asked her to leave on. One hand was at her side, pressed against her leg, the other was busy petting her warm, moist pussy.
"Fffffuck," Paul said, smiling lewdly.
"Fffffuck," Mary repeated, the sound of the exciting Anglo-Saxon word sending a shiver of lust up her spine.
Paul returned to his desk chair. He unbuckled his belt and pushed his trousers down, letting them slide down his legs to form a crumpled heap at his feet. He inserted his thumbs in the waistband of his white boxer shorts and began working the garment off his hips, bending over slightly as he pushed the shorts past his knees to his feet. Then, clad only in a rose-colored shirt open at the neck, he eased back into the swivel-rocker and ordered Mary onto his lap.
The scrumptious brunette moved around the desk and without delay climbed aboard, positioning herself on Paul's lap so that his still flaccid pecker was pushed up against her smoldering, brown-haired snatch.
"Comfy?" Paul asked.
"Mmm, you bet, Doctor," Mary purred, placing her hands on Paul's shoulder.
"Are you going to suck me like a good little girl?"
"Later, after you've sucked my titties."
"To do that I'll have to take off your bra."
"Take it off, Paul. And then munch on my boobs. They want your lips and your wonderful tongue."
Grinning, Paul reached around in back of his secretary-receptionist and with an experienced lover's expertise quickly unclasped her brassiere. He drew the two ends out and then around her arms to her front, making great show of baring those pert boobs he had slobbered over many times.
Mary quivered on her employer's lap as he peeled the brassiere away from her tingling tits and flipped it onto the floor. She squirmed forward and emitted a soft moan of pleasure when Paul reached up to cup her breasts, his thumbs brushing nipples already stiffening in excitement.
"Oh, Paul, suck on them for me," she begged. "Chew on my tits until they're raw."
"You've got very sensitive tits, young lady," Paul said, stating a fact learned during his first fuck of the saucy brunette.
"Your mouth, Paul. Put your mouth on them."
Dr. Latham did as his patient requested, bringing his head forward and mashing his face into the soft, warmy valley betwen her spongy delights. His tongue snaked out from between his lips and he began to lick, waving his head sensuously this way and that against her aroused flesh as he savored its smooth texture, its delicate female aroma.
"Ooooooh, I love that," Mary cooed, clasping Paul's head to her bosom.
The little nympho has damn good tits, Paul thought, cupping one in his right hand and kneading it as he trailed his lips over the other. They were not as big as Valerie's, of course, but they were still very nice all the same. His wife had breasts the size of large melons whereas Mary's mammaries were more like small grapefruits. Very tasty and very squeezable grapefruits.
Mary closed her eyes and continued humming her approval of Paul's oral technique as he labored lovingly on her gelatinous globes of flesh, tending first to one and then the other, his warm, knowing lips like moist velvet on her flesh. Jack should see her now, she thought.
Flip out altogether is what he would do if he caught her sitting bare-assed naked on her employer's lap. Especially after the warning he had given her about fooling around with other fellows. The man had a temper that just wouldn't quit. Just being around Jack was a wee bit unnerving, because you never knew when he'd suddenly explode like a firecracker.
The thought of jealous Jack discovering her in the embrace of another guy gave her goosepimples. She didn't think she could endure another one of his vicious spankings. On the other hand, she wasn't yet willing to limit her sex life to a nightly boffing session with Jack.
Sure, he was a nice guy-when he wasn't into one of his violent numbers that saw him turn half-animal-and he knew what to do with a girl in bed, but variety was still the spice of life as far as she was concerned.
And she would just hate to give up these sessions with Paul. Never had she met a doctor with such a marvelous cure for the common female malaise brought on by steaming panties.