Chapter 8
Junior finally had me right where he wanted me or so he thought.
It was after working hours, and I was in his office nude.
It was late Thursday afternoon, about a quarter to six. The closing hour of five had come and gone, and with it had gone the hordes that peopled the office.
Junior had a very impressive office. It made him feel better about not having any real power in his father's company. The outer office, where the receptionist worked, was as big as some of the offices of the company's mid-level managers.
Junior's inner office was very much larger, vast, sprawling, and all done up in the ultra-expensive height of office furniture fashion.
His desk wasn't as big as Mussolini's-not quite but it seemed to be the size at least of a grand concert piano.
It was at the far end of the office, opposite the door which opened into the outer office, and the distance was quite a little walk.
Taking that walk, though, was like walking through a field of clover, since the deep-pile wall to wall carpeting cushioned each footstep.
There were paintings on the high white walls, and indirect lighting mounted in ceiling alcoves, and hanging over all was the aura of money.
Decorators had furnished the interior, even picking out the stylish paintings on the walls, which certainly weren't chosen by Junior.
Junior was best at the social aspects of the business. When it came to showing important out of town clients a good time, Junior was in his element.
His routine was a round of business lunches at expensive restaurants, hours spent drinking in the higher-priced saloons, and other party-activities.
His office was equipped with a private bar which looked as well stocked and outfitted as some bars I've been in.
The few signs that the office belonged to Junior were the trophies from high school and college days in a display case, some little knick-knacks and odds and ends on his desk, and the copies of girlie magazines hastily stuffed into a bottom drawer of his desk, so that the glossy edges of the magazine stood out.
Ordinarily, the outer office was occupied by Marge, the tough lady who was supposed to be Junior's assistant.
Actually she was the power in his office, and no decision of Junior's was ever implemented unless she had okayed it first.
But for once, she was not present, having been called away on one errand or another, and not returning to the office at closing time.
Three weeks had passed since Billie had gone away and returned from her trip, and much had happened in that time.
Much was happening now, as Junior pawed me and panted for me.
Our, er, romance was progressing nicely.
First, he had asked me out for a date, and I accepted. I was dressed to kill, my face made up so that it was sexily exotic, my body sheathed in an expensive designer-label dress which played up my assets.
The exotic, sleek, glamorous beauty-for such I was; no point in false modesty was a side' of myself never before seen by Junior, or by any of my coworkers in the office (not including private, after-office amours I carried on, such as with Billie, since that never was done in the office).
Junior was rocked. When he saw me dressed to the teeth, any thoughts he might have had about a cheap date went flying out the window.
Dressed as I was, he had to take me someplace expensive ... and was more than happy to do so, since that way he could show me off.
He couldn't get over the change in me. At work I'm crisply pretty, but business-like and never overtly provocative.
Now I was dressed to thrill, and was more than succeeding.
In the imagine restaurant where we dined, men looked on me with lust, while their women were envious although one or two of the ladies looked on me with as much lust as their men.
Junior couldn't get over the change in me.
He said it was like I was a different person. We dined in gourmet luxury.
His sports car, sleek and low slung, was scarcely larger than his desk, and was infinitely more expensive, a high-priced machine.
At the end of that first date, Junior also discovered that I was not going to be an easy lay-not for him.
When he parked at my apartment building he was all hands and arms, but I fended him off and thanked him for a lovely evening.
He seemed stunned when I didn't invite him in, and turned down his suggestion that he come in for a nightcap.
Such refusals could only intrigue and allure him so I reasoned.
I was right.
No calculating virgin holding out for a wedding ring was ever more strict with her favors than I was with Junior.
On the second date I let him kiss me, but when his hand pressed my breast, I kept on kissing him but firmly removed it.
By the fourth date, he was feeding me all kinds of lines; that time I let him rub my breasts through my blouse.
But when he tried to slip his hand inside the blouse, I slapped it away. I did let him play with my nipples through the blouse.
More recently, when we had been in his car. parked at night, and I let him put his hand inside my unbuttoned blouse, he wanted more.
He was hard ... well, I knew that. Even in the dimness of the auto interior, I saw the fat bulge between his legs.
But he made sure that I knew about it, when he took hold of my hand and slid it over his muscular thighs to his crotch.
He pressed my hand to his stiff penis and held it there.
I said, "What are you doing?! "
"I want you to feel how much I need you!"
"Stewart ... " That was the name he liked to be called, his middle name. And so, I'll call him that for the rest of these memoirs.
"Stewart, please let go of my hand!"
"I need you so much, Donna ... you can feel it ... feel how hard it is, so hard that it hurts ... Donna, please, don't torment me, I can't stand it anymore!"
"Stewart, what do you want me to do about that?! "
"Let me make love to you."
"Stewart, please, we've been over this before--"
"It'll be good for both of us, I know it will!"
"Stewart, I've told you before, that's one thing that I'll do only with my lawfully wedded husband which you most definitely are not!"
"Donna, you're so cruel! You can feel how much I need you!"
And I could at that, for his erection felt like a length of hot pipe stuffed in the crotch of his pants, where my hand pressed it.
"Oh, Stewart!" I sighed, them smiled to myself. It was dim in the car and he couldn't see that naughty little smile of satisfaction.
"I won't go all the way with you, Stewart," I began, "at least not now. And you can be sure that if I did, it wouldn't be a quickie in your car!"
"Donna, you know how much I care for you...."
"And I care for you, Stewart, which is why I haven't yet slapped your face for holding my hand on your, your thing!"
And at that, I pulled my hand off his groin, out from under his hand which held it there. But I didn't slap his face.
I undid the front buttons of my blouse, opening it to the waist. Shadowed and dim as it was, he could surely see that.
"Oh, Donna-"
I fended off his hands. "Don't get grabby, Stewart. I want someone gentle and caring, who takes his time, not an octopus that's all hands and arms!"
I pulled open the blouse, exposing the bra I wore and the breasts in it.
I worked down the lace cups of the bra, pulling them down off the breasts, so that they were rolled under the now-naked breasts.
He leaned forward. He couldn't get too close, not in that small sports car with its bucket seats and the stick-shift separating the two of us.
His hands shook as he reached for my breasts. He gasped when he touched them, like a man plunging into a hot bath.
He squeezed and rubbed and fondled them. The nipples stiffened and throbbed erect as he stroked and caressed them.
"Donna, you are so beautiful!"
I pulled his head to my bosom.
"You can kiss them, Stewart ... do it slowly and gently...."
He nuzzled the breasts, which were lifted and raised up to a high tilted angle by the rolled bra cups under them.
His lips massaged my breasts. I stroked his dark thick soft hair. He took a nipple between his lips and sucked on it.
He moaned as he sucked my breasts. I reached across his muscular thighs and put my hand on his bulging crotch.
He moaned, and the vibrations shot through my breast, to which his mouth was attached.
I rubbed him through his pants, stroking his penis, feeling out the form and shape of his flesh he had a big one.
I felt out the form of its head and squeezed it. I pressed my palm on his penis and rubbed it back and forth, exciting him.
I rubbed faster and harder while he moaned, quite frantic.
Sucking my naked nipple while being masturbated by my skillful hand, both at the same time, proved too much for him to resist.
I stroked him only for a few minutes, when suddenly he stiffened, not just in his member but all over, and shook.
He cried out from the force of his orgasm. Inside his trousers his erection surged like a water hose, throbbing against my hand.
Masses of come boiled up from his member and spurted in spasmodic gushes.
As his forceful orgasm ebbed and faded, the tension left his form, and he gave off a great sighing moan.
I had masturbated him so that he came inside his pants, with masses of sticky come soiling his undershorts and oozing through his trousers.
While he labored to recover his gasping breath, I used the opportunity to fit my breasts back into my bra, and button up my blouse.
I had given Stewart a taste, enough to whet his appetite and keep him coming back for more, but not enough to compromise myself.
When I saw his fiancee, I knew stronger measures were needed.
She came into the office one day to meet him for lunch. I took the opportunity to look her over, like one fighter sizing up another.
She looked to be tough competition.
Tamara was her name, and she was a real princess. She was the same age as me, dark-haired where I was fair-haired.
She was tall, slim, aristocratic in facial features and physique. She had quite striking good looks, which made her seem model-like.
She was tall, with fine straight black hair cut simply and elegantly in a sharp sweeping line which ran along her jawline.
She had an aquiline nose, high prominent cheekbones, and sunken cheeks which gave her a kind of starved look.
Very fashionable, very chic ... her mouth was a red-lipped slash and her eyes were cool and appraising.
She carried herself gracefully. She had small perfect breasts smaller than mine, I was pleased to note, since Stewart most definitely had a big breast fetish a rounded bottom, and long lithe legs.
This was the competition, all right!
Stewart went out to lunch with her. He took a long lunch, and I feared that he wouldn't return for the afternoon, but would take the day off with her.
But he did return, at two o'clock, which pleased me, since I had my plans all made. You might say I planned to bring up my heavy artillery.
Things could not have worked out better for my plans, for Marge was gone for the day, one of the reasons why Stewart dared take so long a lunch.
At the three o'clock coffee break, I told him at the water cooler that I planned to drop by his office after five.
I mentioned it quite casually, so he wouldn't guess my purpose.
Tamara was lovely well, so was I. She had the benefits of caste and class working for her but I had something even better.
Sexpertise.
Sexual expertise, to drive a man wild!