Chapter 9
The next day Jeff was at work alone in his office when Diane buzzed him.
"A Miss Blake from Mister Bunyan's office," she announced.
Shirley!
Jeff had been so busy the last few days, with other women and with work, that he had forgotten about the masochistic blonde who had pleaded that their first date should not be their last.
The thought of seeing her now, in mid-morning, appealed to him in a twisted way. He had been wrestling with the knottiest parts of the Glu-Pane project and he felt mean. But his meanness did not stem entirely from that. There was the whole flunked-up pattern of his life that bugged him. A loveless marriage, a pointless, drifting existence that now seemed absurdly shallow. He had been looking at himself in a new and different light, and he was not happy with what he saw.
"Send her in," he snarled at the phone.
The door opened and Shirley appeared, her ash-blonde hair hanging about her shoulders and glistening like silk, her face as perfect and superior-looking as ever, her figure youthfully provocative in a crisp white blouse such as she had worn the other day and, this time, a wine-colored miniskirt. Her stockinged knees gleamed below its hem.
"Hello, Mister Bardell," she said, surprising him with her formality. "Mister Bunyan found some more papers that he thought you ought to have."
She carried them to his desk and placed them in front of him. He managed to get a tantalizing whiff of perfume.
He glanced at the papers. They were profit and toss reports for the years 1955 through 1958.
"What the devil did he think I would want with these?" Jeff asked.
She was taken aback. "Well, I don't know. He just said to bring them over and, of course, that's all I did."
Jeff could tell by watching her eyes and gauging her tone of voice that the idea of coming over had been entirely hers. Well, by God, he was going to give her what she had come for!
He got up from his desk and walked across the room with Shirley watching him. He twisted the lock on his door and turned to face her.
"What was that for?" she asked, her pink lower lip trembling.
"You've been naughty again, Shirley," he said in a low, but very menacing tone. He began to move toward her.
"No!" she exclaimed, backing up. "What did I do?"
"You told a little fib. Bunyan didn't send you over. It was your idea. And I'm sure you did it just to bug me."
"No! Oh, no, that isn't true!" She was backing away from him, her eyes like saucers.
He commented to himself about the superficial similarity of this scene and what had taken place last night. But, underneath, the two were entirely different. Kris really had not wanted him to screw her, and that had been something of a shock, while this little bitch wanted him like mad. But she wanted him only in a certain way. Well, it didn't matter, that was the way he wanted her now!
He reached out and grasped her by the wrist. He pulled her hard against him. Already his cock was starting to rise, and she must have felt it whentheir bodies came together.
Twisting one arm behind her back to hold her firmly next to him, he ran his other hand upward along the side of her soft, delicate cheek. He looked deeply into her baby-blue eyes.
"I'm surprised that you'd pull something naughty on me again," he growled, sounding as ferocious as possible through a steely grin. "You remember what happened last time."
"Oh, please, please ..."
"Too late to beg now, my girl. You have to be punished."
"But not the way you did before."
She obviously was hoping against hope that he would punish her exactly as he had, only perhaps harder.
He said, "Oh, yes. Just that way. I'm going to pull up your skirt and pull down your pretty panties. Then I'm going to blast away at your bottom with my hand."
She uttered a whining squeal and literally quivered in his graps. He thought, for a moment, that she was having an orgasm just thinking about it. But she wasn't. Her spring was merely tightening up.
He looked quickly around the office. There was one occasional chair against a far wall that would serve as a place for him to sit as he spanked her. He gave her arm a little twist, enough for her to feel without actually hurting her, and shoved her in the direction of the chair, with him moving behind. He admired the tight action of her pliant buttocks. She was ungirdled again, of course.
When they rieared the wall, he reached past her, grasped the light chair, and swung it around, positioning it behind him. Now he sat and pulled her across his lap.
She hardly fought at all. Her voice keened shrilly, but he knew this was more from erotic anticipation than from protest. Anyway, if she wanted to get away from him, she could have.
He petted her first across the buttocks and felt the taut mounds of flesh quiver beneath her straight skirt. He let his hand trail slowly down the backs of her thighs.
Taking time to savor the situation to the full, he slid his fingers/ slowly between her silk-sheathed knees. He began sliding them up between her thighs. Now he was at her stocking tops and her skirt was beginning to restrict his progress.
Shirley twisted and looked up at him earnestly. "Don't tear it this time," she said, dropping all pretenses. "I have nothing else to put on."
"Okay, honey, then suppose you stand up."
Obediently she did, presenting her backside to him.
He pinched her skirt and slip at either side and raised them, slowly baring her legs-stockings, nude flesh and all. He teased himself for a few moments by holding the skirt hem just below her buttocks. The pause must have been excruciating for her, also. Then he yanked it the rest of the way, exposing one of the prettiest rears he had ever seen, clad in pink nylon panties that clung to her like a loving embrace.
Holding her skirt and slip at her waist, he said, "All right, baby. Lie down across my knees again."
She did.
And then she whimpered, "Don't hurt me."
He almost laughed.
This time, before he took her pants off, he ran his hand all over her sleekly clad fanny, enjoying the extra silky feel which her pants imparted. The fine pink nylon was stretched almost to the breaking point around her plump buttocks. He gave one of them a little prod with his finger and watched it wobble. This wobbling, with her pants on, pulled at the other buttock and they wobbled together. ~- ¦
Shirley whimpered again.
"Okay," he said sternly, "time to take your pants off."
Shirley cried out.
Slowly, enjoyably, he folded the top of her nylon pants down, which denuded the beginning of her ass crack. He folded them at the sides now, then again where her buttocks met. They were half off.
He hooked a finger under the elastic, stretched it up, and snapped it back against the fullness of her curves.
"Oh!" she cried.
He laughed lightly.
Now he worked the top of her panties into a roll and turned it gradually lower by brushing with his open hands at either side. The nylon-elastic rope had reached the lower portions of her buttocks now. The redness caused by his first spanking of her had disappeared, her bottom having returned to the lush tone of pink-and-white he had admired before.
He carefully tucked the slender roll of nylon and elastic under first one buttock and then the other, so that it fit into the tender creases just above her pussy. Then he brushed her nude buttocks with his open hand. They quivered delightfully.
"You have a lovely ass, darling," he said. "Just right for spanking."
"Oh," she moaned.
She twisted in passionate agitation, causing her buttocks to rub against one another.
He had waited long enough. He had to go at her now: ¦ ¦ -
Gripping her rolled panties firmly where her buttocks and pussy met, he gave a ferocious yank, which popped the waistband and ripped the nylon cloth.
She cried happily and wiggled her bottom again, this time lifting it high. He knew she could hardly wait to feel his flat hand powering down on her there.
He hooked first one legband and then the other, popping them neatly. A couple more tugs completed the ripping of her pants, and he dropped the ruined garment onto the rug.
He stared at the beauty of her-pink asscheeks and fluffy pussy, lower thighs and calves snugly stockinged, garter straps running up her sides to their slender anchor around the waist. Then he began to spank her. He used only his right hand, and he let it fall fast and hard, making a sharp spat-spat-spatting sound that echoed off the walls of the room. She cried and twisted, but she didn't try to get up. He wasn't even holding her. His left arm rested lightly across her back. He spanked one buttock, then the other, then both cheeks together. They quivered and danced and wiggled with her anguished twisting.
His hand began to ache, but that made him spank Shirley all the harder. Her buttocks were turning pink, and a strong, musky sex scent began to exude from her body. This goaded him on. She had grabbed his legs and was digging her sharp nails into them, tearing the skin.
This goaded him on, too.
He forced his hand down against her, working now like a machine, his force and rhythm relentless. When he finally couldn't spank her any more with his hand, he reached down and pulled off his right shoe. He lifted that and brought the sole of it down across both buttocks.
"Oh!" Shirley howled. "Oh, God! Oh! Oh! Oh!"
Jeff spanked her with his shoe over and over-one buttock, both buttocks, the other buttock, back to the first one again, then both of them five times in succession.
She was screaming and sobbing and clutching him, and then she came very suddenly. There was no mistaking the moment when orgasm gripped her. She moaned ecstatically and shuddered as i she were lying on a vibrating table, instead of across his knees.
He rolled her gently down his legs and onto the rug. Immediately she forced herself back up and clawed at his fly. Her tear-tracked face wore an expression of sex-hungry concentration-her wet eyes wide, her trembling pink lips parted. Finally she freed his cock and plopped it greedily into her mouth.
He looked down at her blonde head as the clasping thrills pounded up from his balls, exploding with almost machine-gun rapidity in his brain. The excitement mounted higher and higher. Shirley was making heinous sounds as her tongue swirled around his cock maddeningly.
He grasped her around the back of the head to make sure she stayed with him, but she obviously had no intention of trying to escape. He knew she wanted him to come in her mouth.
When he felt himself nearing the very top of his limit, he plunged his prick down her throat as far as it would go. She moaned and sucked at him even more voraciously.
Then the jism spurted out the end of his cock, and his eyes rolled back. He nearly passed out as his whole body spasmed over and over.
Finally his nervous system settled down and he returned to total consciousness. He looked down and Shirley was smiling up at him gratefully.
Panting, Jeff said, "You could turn a man into an addict."
Continuing to smile, she bent forward and rubbed first one cheek against his deflated cock, and then the other. Afterward, she solicitously rearranged his clothes.
After she had gone, he sat at his desk and tried to get his mind back on the Glu-Pane project. It was difficult. He felt tremendously depleted, as if his life's seed had been claimed by some sperm-vampire.
He made a resolution never to see Shirley again. Fun was fun, but that bitch was too much!
The incident with Shirley colored the remainder of his day, and he wasn't able to accomplish very much. . v
This was Friday, which meant a solution to the Glu-Pane problem would have to wait until at least Monday, unless he found he could work it out by himself. He didn't believe he could. Right now the people in Accounting were wrestling with a couple of phases of the project, and he was still awaiting a report from the research lab.
When he arrived home, Jeff was surprised to note a car parked in front of the door. He pulled to a stop behind it.
He had no sooner stepped into the house than an old, familiar voice greeted him from the archway leading to the front room. It was Betty Finstad. Her husband, George, was behind her, and they both had martinis in hand.
Oh, no, he thought, and closed his eyes for a moment before putting on the obligatory smile. He greeted them, and then there was Lupita's voice behind him.
"Meester Bardell, the hospital ees calling. Eet ees about your father."
He walked to the telephone, his legs wooden. He wasn't sure what he wanted to hear, but what he did hear surprised him.
"Bardell? Doctor Wickam here. I have great news-your father is going to recover! We've whipped the pneumonia and his paralysis is receding. I wouldn't count on a total cure, but right now it looks as if he will be walking again."
Jeff murmured something polite and replaced the telephone on the receiver.
"What is it, Jeff?" Sophia asked, moving up to him.
"Dad's going to be all right," he said quietly.
"Wheel We can go back to Los Angeles! Oh, that's the greatest news I could imagine!" She calmed down and looked at him. "What's the matter? Aren 't you happy ?"
"Yeah. Hilarious."
He walked with her into the living room and settled down for some serious drinking with the Finstads.