Chapter 1
Brad Voight's departure from Starbright Communications was to be celebrated in grand style. Tom Griffith, Chairman and Chief Executive Officer of the cable television giant, ordered that no expense be spared for his lavish going-away party. The company gladly wrote the half-million dollar check from the proceeds of another profitable year. It attributed its growth and success to Voight; his classy sendoff was an expression of its appreciation.
That was on the surface-the official media release.
Inwardly, Tom Griffith rejoiced at the exit of his president. The man had been a thorn in his side, executing one power play too many. From his first day served, Griffith despised him. His board, however, voted him in against his silent objection. Learning from that experience, Griffith systematically had those insubordinates removed from office and replaced them with sycophants. Personally owning more than two hundred and fifty thousand shares of voting stock, he yearned for total control.
Griffith fancied that he possessed the vision that would elevate Starbright to technological significance. He had lobbied for the fiber optic cable upgrade and additional channels. Voight, also a visionary, insisted upon connectivity to the Internet. Griffith had no idea of the demand for such capability. Web fantasists applauded his backbone and embraced that innovation. Voight's argument was that its customers would ultimately hop on the cyberspace bandwagon and leave its entertainment selection in the dust. A whole new generation, he maintained, discounted their cable hookup in favor of flocking to their computers for online exploration. He urged the company to offer Internet access besides its regular fare. Griffith felt upstaged by the man's brainstorming. Voight stole his glory, and for that, he was glad to be rid of him.
Voight took the bulk of the credit, but if it hadn't been for his direction, the company wouldn't have survived the competition the past, brutal decade.
Thank God Voight elected to leave on that high point of his career. He publicly declared his wish to take a long needed rest before plotting his next venture. Griffith heard a Starbright opponent hoped to snare him with a compensation package comprising a million-dollar plus salary and a lucrative stock option bonus plan. Voight, to his knowledge, declined to make a commitment.
The press prevailed upon Voight and Griffith for the logic behind the breakup. Voight, maintaining his professional character, refused to elaborate. Griffith presumed, given their bouts in the boxing ring, that Voight simply tired of the constant battle. The eternal conflict obviously drained him. Griffith had more clout, and in time, would have exhausted every means to muscle him out. Voight opted to simplify his task.
A tall, slim, striking man of forty-six, Tom Griffith had pumped his life's blood into Star-bright. Pioneering the company from its inception, he witnessed its rise from an obscure provider of long distance telephone service to a major contender in the cable television arena. A few gray strands peppered his black hair. His craggy face was sharpened by piercing brown eyes and thin, unyielding lips. He indisputably projected charisma, his entrance to a room never went unnoticed. He had the proud gait and smile of a diplomat, yet the shrewdness of a barracuda. Few found it wise to turn their backs on him, fearing the plunge of his dagger.
The resumes of his top-ranking officers rested on his desk. He regarded each very closely. All were qualified to succeed Voight.
He discovered, through devious methods, that each would virtually commit murder to claim the president's spot. Griffith cultivated and praised that kind of ruthlessness, however, he didn't want just anybody to assume that vacated seat. Voight's successor had to prove categorical allegiance to him and carry out his schemes. He insisted upon a minion, not a leader. The new president would have to be manipulable to his satisfaction. Griffith redrafted rules that frequently contradicted corporate policy.
He stared at each applicant. Who would gladly part with his or her soul for the prestige of a president's title? He clucked upon further examination of the fanned biographies, seeing glimmering possibilities. Several were obvious choices for ascension. They had run their jurisdictions well.
Some, he contemplated with a broad smile, had sex drives which matched his. That, alone, enhanced his or her glamour.
The door to his office opened. His executive secretary, Erin O'Toole, a luscious redhead, entered. Her emerald eyes shimmered and her sensual lips curved as she made her approach. Griffith savored her hourglass figure. The woman had melon-sized tits and a sweet ass offset by a tiny waist. He was quite pleased with her. Not only was Erin a delightful sight, but his calculating accomplice and fiercely loyal. He put her through every test to measure her dedication, and always, she earned the highest scores. To his utter delight, the woman mastered the art of duplicity.
"I've just touched base with the caterers to ensure that the menu you specified was in place," she advised in a succulent tone. "They are preparing all the gourmet foods requested. I also went through the list of libations that they will make available at the bar. Only name brands will be served. I've been assured that the wine list is of vintage quality."
Tom studied her mouth-watering assets and nodded.
"The band we negotiated with to provide the music has arrived by plane and are being chauffeured to the hotel. It appears everyone is on schedule."
"Excellent. I couldn't envision leaving such a responsible task in another person's hands." He leaned back in his chair and spread his legs. The bulge of his cock strained the front of his trousers. "How about a little warm-up before the party?"
Erin smiled. "You beat me to the punch. I was about to suggest it."
"Brilliant minds think a-like."
Erin kneeled before him and massaged his erection. He groaned from the heat of her palm. She delicately traced its shape, lightly passing her fingertips under his balls. Her touch made him even harder.
'Take it out," he muttered. Her gentle fondling thinned his patience.
Those small fingers worked with efficiency. She quickly undid his belt, top button and zipper. The large growth trapped within his silk boxers ached for freedom. She pulled them down, watching his plump knob spring at her. His long, slender shaft jutted, starved for some action.
"I'm glad to have arrived first," she said, taking it in her fist. "I'm not in the sharing mood."
Tom enjoyed her silky manipulation. Erin, twenty years his junior, knew precisely how to handle him. He couldn't disagree with her point of view, and instead, relaxed. Her appetite for sex equaled his.
Erin licked the tip of his cock while steadily pulling on him. His shaft yawned through her firm coil. At each new slurp, she could feel Griffith's excitement build. A creamy bead oozed from the slit. Immediately, she dabbed it with her tongue.
"Christ," he gasped, clearly enjoying her sweet flicker.
Erin lashed him further, glazing him in bubbly drool. Releasing her fingers, she spread a concentration of warm spit over his upright member. Across his veins, she darted. Up and down she swept, then ended in a nourish at his balls. His pouch grew warm and sticky from the frothy stream. She tongued his balls until his throat ached from the hoarseness.
He elevated himself to meet her conscientious lick. Rather than continue moistening him, Erin opened her mouth. Her lips snagged him at once, then attached. She yanked on the taut skin of his dick. He groaned, leaning back in his chair. His brown eyes never left her face. He focused on her gobbling expression, daring her to take more. Erin wasn't to be challenged. In seconds, his cock was gone. Her cheeks puffed with him.
"Oh, yeah," he muttered, his Adam's apple convulsing. His groin was on fire. He could scarcely watch those lips take him. She pumped him with both her mouth and fist, keeping him acutely swollen. His dick burned in her grasp. "Suck me, baby. Do it."
Erin caressed his hairy thigh while filling herself. She eased the surplus into her throat. Gradually, her lips inched to his base. Every bit of him throbbed in her hot vacuum. She rubbed the large vein of his underside. She combed through the bristly texture of his leg, gravitating to his sac.
Griffith shifted in his chair, almost unable to cope with her suction or electric touch. That
Irish lass threatened his durability. He doubted he could last a prolonged round. That mouth hungrily descended upon him, fighting to contain him. He closed his eyes and fucked that freckled face.
"Mmmmm," Erin's muffled sob came. "Mmmmm."
Her moist lips slid over him. Their tight clasp had him fighting for air. She sucked him so thoroughly, he could hardly breathe.
Erin relished the power inside her mouth. Griffith's dark pupils centered on her. She grappled with the amount she took, then added to it. His mouth twisted as she increased her intake and finally kissed his balls. Burying her nose in his dark nest, she held her crippling suck. Griffith smelled soap-fresh. His dick, beating strongly, extended into her throat.
She lightly stroked his balls with her thumbs. Globs of her saliva remained, lubricating their movement. Her grope expanded as she fondled his bushy thighs.
Erin received him in a stifled moan. His big cock fucked her face. She plunged her mouth over it. Her lips braked halfway, then slithered to the stem. After tenderly sucking him, he came out. Her fingers enclosed him for a few exhilarating jerks. Her boss exhaled strongly as she yanked on his saliva-greasy cock. After priming him with her fist, she licked him some more and put him back into her mouth. Another bout with her lips and tongue followed.
Griffith gasped from her milking action. He sifted through her red tresses, letting them spill between his fingers, pulling them away from her face, wanting nothing to obstruct his view. Erin's freckled cheek bulged. Pleasure radiated through his system at the pull of her sweet lips. They methodically caressed and excited him. Hot air leaked onto his lap from each fresh mouthful.
He pondered the entire package set before him. Her flushed countenance, her sparkling eyes, her huge tits swelling within her blouse, savagely aroused him. Her nipples almost peeked from the unbuttoned top. The string of pearls adorning her neck swung back and forth as she swooped to claim him.
"Are you ready for it, baby?" he muttered. His face reddened. Perspiration cropped at his temple.
Erin maintained her frantic pace. She paid no heed to his mounting tremors and steadily gobbled him. His dick throbbed against her hot, oral clasp. Her bottom lip tweaked the large, protruding vein of his underside in every serving she took. Her wild pucker had him at fever pitch, giving him no recourse.
He lost sight of the lips that held him and relinquished control. The jism, churning in his balls, burned as it fired through his shaft. His back slammed into the chair as he spasmed.
An animal growl tore from his throat as he discharged. Erin's lips tightened around his spurting cock. She moaned as his jism jetted onto her tongue, then coursed down her throat. She pumped his shaft with her lips, pinching his pearly goo from it. Up and down she went, siphoning the excess. His cum slit opened to emit the creamy residue.
Griffith, dazed, slumped back in his chair while she used her fist. Squeezing his cock, she obtained a bit more from him. She dabbed the cum exuding from his tip while tenderly kneading him.
The woman was thorough about her job. She made certain of draining him.
He eventually caught his breath and a smile grew on his face. Life was good, he mused. "That was a most excellent session, Erin. Have you been practicing?"
She giggled. "Only on you."
Griffith did not, for an instant, question her fidelity. He kept her under surveillance, just as he had his executives. No detail escaped him.
She consulted her watch. "In roughly six hours, Voight will be history."
"Yes," he sighed. "Then the celebration will truly commence."
Erin smirked. "A private gathering afterward?"
"More than that: a corporate orgy. My top officers are invited and will perform. At the height of the festivities, I will reveal Voight's replacement."
"How brilliant," she commended. "An ending with more than the traditional bang."
Erin had no way of knowing the irony of her statement.