Chapter 8
Allan Forrest waited for the appropriate juncture in the evening before making his move. He didn't want to foist himself on Tom Griffith while he talked with Roxanne Hunter, but from his perspective, the woman positively monopolized him. He studied her body language. Roxanne portrayed the committed employee with a dash of sexual exuberance.
Allan's mind whirred with activity. That woman didn't think, for a second, that she honestly stood a chance? He had been with Starbright far longer and believed her too green for the job. In fact, her stint as R&D Director had been much too brief. Noticeably deficient in many vital areas, she needed to gain more experience.
His interruption had been postponed until Allan judged it prudent. Attuned to their conversation, he perceived it as nothing imperative. Mildly, he tapped Griffith on the shoulder. "Pardon me, sir, but may I have a word with you?"
Griffith, turning from Roxanne, reflected limited annoyance. "What is it, Forrest?"
"Just a few minutes of your time is all I'm asking."
Griffith spoke quietly. "Hold that thought, Roxanne, and I'll return shortly."
Roxanne offered Griffith a smile and Forrest a frown. The latter was exchanged in secret, without the chairman's knowledge. Allan discounted her glare. It was, in his opinion, typical of her.
They went into a smaller, adjoining room. "Get on with it, Forrest. Please."
"I didn't mean to press you, sir, but had wished to speak privately with you, because I know you are planning to announce Brad Voight's successor later this evening."
"That is correct."
"I wish you to make an informed decision."
"I don't specifically require your input before making that announcement."
"But I believe you do, sir."
Griffith regarded him with utter contempt. He took a dim view of a possible insurrection. "See here, Forrest. You are in my employ, not the reverse. Kindly remember for whom you are working and, furthermore, who signs your paycheck."
Allan cleared his voice. He did not like Griffith's condescending tone. If it had been anyone else, he would have chosen a punishment. A personal slave, for instance, would have received a paddling. He never administered severe pain, but dispensed enough to underscore his point.
"Be that as it may," Allan picked up the thread of his rehearsed speech, "I wish to express my view. Please pardon my directness, but I feel I am your most qualified candidate. I know this company better and can offer a fresh, revolutionary approach."
Griffith appeared to be counting under his breath. His patience edged toward their limit.
"I fathom that I may be crossing the line by privately campaigning for that slot. You should, however, be aware that I've been offered a job with Sun Telecom. According to the employment contract they've sent, I'm to be paid a much larger salary and receive a director's title. My acceptance of that offer is predicated upon your decision."
Griffith paled. He hadn't expected such a deft play. "You're going to the competition?"
"Possibly."
Allan Forrest's revelation prevented Griffith from delivering a severe tongue-lashing. In his mind, he had elected Roxanne Hunter as Voight's substitute. She seemed the most exploitable. He based her suitability on her eagerness to please him. He hadn't counted on Forrest holding a resignation over his head. Griffith needed the man. Nobody understood the firm's operations better than Forrest. If he walked out, Roxanne couldn't function in that new role.
The wisdom of Forrest's statements behooved him. Perhaps he'd miscalculated. Of the three, Forrest seemed the inevitable choice. He saw his scheme falling apart at the seams. Unprepared to admit victory to the man just yet, particularly after he'd hinted that his resignation hinged upon his preference, Tom purposely stalled. The evening was young, and besides, Griffith insisted upon examining the various scenarios. He expected fallout, but couldn't afford Forrest to be among the casualties.
"Thank you for alerting me of that," Griffith said, patting him on the shoulder. "I appreciate your honesty and intentions. I promise to consider them in my judgment."
Griffith quietly exited the room.
Allan immensely distrusted the man, and because of it, formulated an alternate plan that had nothing to do with jumping ship. Bearing in mind the possible outcome, he stood ready to flash his trump card. Griffith would suffer the most, should he exercise that option.
Roxanne Hunter was greatly disadvantaged by Allan Forrest's intrusion. She confidently had Tom Griffith in her back pocket when their intense Operations Director snatched him. Roxanne didn't take kindly to such power plays. She was famous for staging some that left others spitting dust in her wake.
Their confidential meeting didn't last. Griffith departed the adjoining room, where they had conducted their discussion, visibly troubled. Roxanne had learned how to read people and it was her impression that Allan had furnished him some bad news.
What could Allan have said that alarmed Tom? Her curiosity deepened. Allan Forest never divulged a thing. The man was positively secretive.
Griffith, conversely, could be manipulated. She had proven that by tugging his strings to her satisfaction and savoring the results.
Griffith excused himself from the festivities and headed toward the elevator station. Roxanne fell behind, her spying eyes seeking him out. She spotted him entering a car and hopped in before the doors closed.
"I thought you were coming right back," she explained.
Her stunt did not disturb Griffith. "I was, but needed to make a phone call." He silently cursed his wife. Monique vowed to attend, yet several hours into the party, her absence was the cause of embarrassment. People repeatedly asked of her whereabouts, to which he invented plausible excuses. Her tardiness reached a point of unacceptability. No doubt, she was writhing inside the mouth of that lesbo, Amanda. Her nonexistent morals usually didn't faze him, but he emphasized an intolerance for any slip that the press might uncover. Griffith wished to protect his image, as well as that of the company.
He also wondered what had become of Erin. His executive secretary had been missing for over an hour. Into what kind of mischief had she landed? The woman had the potential makings of a nymphomaniac.
Roxanne seductively brushed against him, jarring him from his unsettled frame. "You look tense. Is there anything I can do about it?"
"Not right now." He was torn between Roxanne and Allan. He admired the blonde's tenacity, her nerve. She was his female counterpart, and could be shaped to suit his purposes. He disliked the corner into which he had painted himself. He should have been better prepared to deal with Allan Forrest's threat.
Roxanne wasn't easily dissuaded. She followed Tom into one of the rooms Erin had reserved for the company's private use. He walked directly to a large, wing-backed chair beside which a phone rested.
"Why don't you pour yourself a drink?" he suggested while lifting the mouthpiece. "After I place my call, I'll rejoin you."
"I need to powder my nose." Tom Griffith nodded, then dialed his home number.
Monique answered after three rings. "Yes?" she slurred.
"Get your ass over here, on the double," he hissed.
"Why, darling? Aren't you having a good time without me?"
"I'm serious." His voice grew uglier.
Monique treated his fluctuation in tone lightly. "Haven't I taught you the art of mingling? You've apparently forgotten those lessons."
"Cut the bullshit, Monique. I want you here, now. You're humiliating me, and I don't like it. This is Voight's final appearance, and it's to be a respectful celebration."
Monique's playfulness quickly ended. "I won't come!" she spat.
Tom prepared to argue his point, but the bathroom door opened and out came a delightfully naked Roxanne. She had removed every stitch of clothing. His mouth watered at once. The woman was spectacular-everything he dreamed.
"Handle it without me," Monique went on, oblivious to his testosterone rush.
"Be reasonable," he said, realizing he was breathing harder. Roxanne was hot-very hot.
He could scarcely concentrate. She bombarded him with blistering images that produced adrenaline. "I'm not asking for much. How difficult is it to don one of your imagine gowns, hail a cab and put in an adequate appearance."
"No!"
Roxanne knelt before him and uncoupled his belt. He questioned if Monique heard his zipper, or the rustling of his clothes. She took out his cock, which was modestly hard, and put it in her mouth. Her stimulating pull shook him. Those lips yanked on him, spurring his advanced growth. He barely contained his gasp of pleasure. Eventually, he slumped in his chair and submitted to her hungry suck.
"Don't push me, Thomas," Monique bluntly warned. "I won't have it."
"Monique, you lack sense."
"I want nothing to do with that party. Nothing."
Roxanne's sweet suction diluted his anger. He refrained from babbling. Monique would have guessed what was happening at his end.
"I would appreciate your cooperation," he mentioned.
"You won't receive it." With that, she slammed down the receiver.
The phone dropped from Tom's hand. Those wet, massaging lips drained his strength. He groaned, then lifted himself to meet her voracious gobble. He stiffened within her sucking furnace.
"Christ," he muttered, watching her devour his cock. The woman took pride in her work. Those lips swooped over his long, slender shaft, wiggling at the base. She washed him in hot, tingling saliva.
Roxanne thoroughly enjoyed making his groan. Wrapping him with her sensuous lips, she sucked him. Her sliding mouth caused him to rise from his seat, then drop with a grunt. She could feel his trembling mount through that attachment. Drawing strongly from him, she sampled his creamy male essence. She considered the power he yielded, and his ability to build her career.
She wanted the presidency so bad, she could taste it. Furthermore, she was primed to do whatever was necessary to guarantee victory.
Griffith, not a handsome man, given his craggy complexion, sexually appealed to her. She didn't mind sucking his dick or letting him fuck her. He had a magnetism about him that overrode and even enhanced his physical appearance.
She dragged off his pants while he unbuttoned his shirt and took off his tie. She wanted him naked, too. It was far easier to proceed spontaneously without worry of wrinkling one's clothes. Roxanne sandwiched him between her large tits and began caressing him. She aimed her pink, pointed nipples for effect. "You have no idea how long I've yearned for this moment," she whispered. "You've been in my fantasies."
"I have?"
"Definitely." Those lips descended again, and within several nips, he was gone. When he came out, coated in bubbly drool, she returned him to her cleft. Using her huge breasts, she massaged him.
Tom gazed at his dick, nestled in her cleavage. The woman was phenomenal. He had pictured them eventually making it to bed, but not with the carry and dispatch she'd exhibited. He could feel her determination in every tug. Smothered in that hot, female eagerness, he throbbed.
"Yes," she moaned, working him through that delicate passage, "fuck my tits. Shove your big cock between them. Ohhhh. Aren't they soft?"
"Christ, yes."
Those wet lips enclosed his knob, locking beneath the jutting rim. Twisting, she darted over his cum slit. Another creamy bead oozed and instantly dissolved. She stroked him with her tits, revving his engine all the more.
Roxanne's tittie fuck drove Tom wild. He wasn't sure if he was leaking. The constant supply of spit to his cockhead left him mystified.
Tom almost splattered those clasping boobs. Those distinct pebbles aimed at him proved how horny Roxanne was. Caressing his cock enlarged them. He was undone by that satin skin, too. Her tongue inched at his bloated crown and frolicked at the tip. He gritted his teeth as he endured its flickering touch. More pre-cum seeped.
Christ, he thought, growling with need.
Tom suddenly got to his feet and pulled Roxanne to him. They kissed long and hard. Almost twenty years younger, she excited the hell out of him. He badly needed her body.
Abruptly, he spun her around and motioned for her to bend. Roxanne, climbing onto the seat cushion, gripped the arms of the chair while Tom positioned himself. Those plush ass cheeks were his for the having. He spread them, then plunged into her sodden cunt lips.
"Oh God," she moaned as he plowed into the luxurious tightness.
He pumped Roxanne good, feeding hard dick to that cohesive mush. He made her moan with every thrust. The woman unleashed his animal power and seemed to enjoy receiving it.
Gripping her by the sides, he sawed through that young pussy. Her secretions gushed around his burrowing member. He watched himself enter her, then saw the pink band cleave to him as he withdrew. He crammed himself into her, achieving a fierce momentum, until his balls ricocheted off those quivering cheeks.
Roxanne glanced over her shoulder and smiled. She supplied him a dreamy smile. "Give it to me, as hard as you can. I'm so excited."
Tom smacked into her backside, fulfilling that request. His dick pulsated in her sodden clench. "You've switched me on, too, baby."
He felt her fingers. She reached under herself, stroking her clit, and grazed his balls. Her silky trace generated a powerful jolt. Groaning, he fucked her harder. His body and cock had a mind of their own.
"Yes," she whimpered. His manly thrusts knocked her errant fingers away. She grasped the chair's arm again, raking her nails. "Oh, yes."
Tom grunted from the give and take of that tight pussy. She snagged his dick's skin and blissfully stretched it. Each tug served him an electric shock.
Roxanne relished the moment. She responded to those deep, pleasuring strokes. The man provided her a sweet pounding that would result in a strong orgasm. His cock churned her pussy, awakening her body. She constricted about that thriving mass, welcoming the joy it furnished.
"Oh, Tom," she sobbed, "you're going to make me cum. Ohhhh. Ohhhh."
Tom couldn't hear over the roar of blood in his ears. He immersed himself in that juicy groove while her milking grip eroded his staying power. He loved getting squeezed like that.
"More," she begged. "More. Oh, please, more."
He gave her what she asked for, and then some. His balls ached from his cumbersome load. Her luscious body almost buckled under the impact. That pussy sucked his dick, screaming for his hot jism. Quickly, he pumped her, wishing to feed it.
Roxanne shrieked joyfully. "Yes. Oh, yes. Ohhhh."
Tom immediately surrendered to the urge. He shot into that wildly convulsing snatch. Her squeals amplified as he hammered into her sizzling loins.
"Arghh," he howled, unable to suppress his solace. He pushed himself far into that cunt, emptying his wad. "Arghh. Ughhh. Oh, yeah."
Damn, he thought, detaching himself from that voracious hole. She had wiped him out.
Afterward, he said, "I wouldn't mind getting some of that on a regular basis."
Roxanne, petting his hand, shared his sentiment. "I would love for us to work more closely together."
His smile faded. "You want Voight's job, don't you?"
She nodded. "I would do anything to have it. Anything."
He sighed. 'That's not going to be easy. I've got a problem with one of your fellow officers."
"Let me guess: Allan Forrest."
"I suppose it was obvious."
He explained to her the nature of his dilemma, divulging Forrest's job offer.
Roxanne absorbed the information, then said, "Why not let him be my problem? I'll prove to you I'm your woman. I'll change his mind and keep him on a leash. Leave it to me. You'll see. I'm the one who ought to be assuming command."
Her offer amused and intrigued him. Perhaps Roxanne Hunter had more going for her than a delectable body. "Hmmmm. Well.. .if you can manage that, then yes, my dear, you've got the job."