Chapter 5
Phil Grey was in a mental purgatory. He didn't know what to do or where to turn; the final stages of his research project were going well, only a few more qualitative tests would determine, within a few days, whether or not Northern Chemical and Research would go into full-scale production of his new plastic coating. He knew he had a real winner .. . had known it from the time he had stumbled across a new molecule cluster and had analyzed it, discovering that it had many of the properties of other commercially produced slick plastic coatings derived from certain combinations of chlorine; however, this new substance proved to be tougher, able to withstand extremely high temperatures and lent itself, easily, to wider applications. The happiest part of his discovery was that it could be produced ridiculously cheaply. This, of course, put it in direct competition with one of the giant chemical manufacturing firms.
He had been given the go-ahead to research it on his own, an almost unheard of thing at venerable N.C.&R.; he was one of the younger junior chemists, and he had worked for the company such a short time that he had no real hopes of getting a major assignment for some time. It had been a real feather in his cap when he had been told to see what he could do; shortly, he was to learn that Dr. Friday, his division supervisor, had spoken up for him and assured the president of Northern that Phil could do the job.
He was thankful that the brilliant, world-renowned Dr. Friday had such faith in his ability, and Phil had worked long, hard, overtime hours to analyze that peculiar molecular structure; as a result he had made excellent headway, arriving at the formula in a very short time. Then, he had begun the long series of qualitative tests to determine its possible applications. He found it to be an amazing substance. He knew that it would revolutionize many aspects of American industrial technology; he even suggested its use in the space effort. From his testing, he knew that it could be used to coat the outside of space capsules much more cheaply than at the present time. Phil had been walking on air after a highly secret interview with an official of NASA, and there were hints of a contract with Northern to work on the problem. It was heady stuff for Phil!
Then, Dr. Robbins had come into his life, quite unexpectedly. Phil had been sitting at a table near the runway in a bottomless-topless bar enjoying a bourbon and the sexy gyrations of a voluptuous nude dance, having stopped there on the way home, because he felt the need for some care-free relaxation. There was another reason, too. He wanted the sexual stimulation afforded him by the suggestive dances. His sex-life with Rhoda left much room for improvement, he felt.
At any rate, as he sat there, a tall, distinguished looking man came over to his table, carrying his drink, and introduced himself.
"Dr. Grey. .. ? I'm Taylor Robbins of Research and Development Corporation . . . You may have heard of me ... ?"
Phil greeted him, cordially, for he had, most certainly, heard of Dr. Taylor Robbins; everyone in the industry knew of him. His research with pesticides was well known to almost every chemist; his papers had been read by him before almost every scientific body throughout the world, in addition to having been published widely in various journals. - Meeting this man had produced mixed emotions in Phil; he felt exulted that the older, famous man had wanted to meet him as another professional, but there was also trepidation, a small, lingering doubt was there deep in his mind . .. something that told him to be suspicious of this man's motives. Phil was aware that Taylor had the reputation of being a sharp, shrewd, man of business, especially since he had organized his own firm for industrial research. There were also rumors that this charming, brilliant man was also ruthless and calculating in his approach to some problems. People who knew him were heard to say that he was an extremely tough-minded individual who always got what he went after. Knowing these things about Dr. Robbins - some of them obvious items of gossip - Phil still felt that he should be somewhat circumspect and close-mouthed in the man's company.
Phil further knew that their first meeting in the bottomless bar had not been accidental. Taylor Robbins had made a point of initiating the contact. They had talked pleasantly of current scientific developments, at the same time, mutually enjoying the spectacle of the bottomless dancers. Their second meeting had been arranged, then. Phil had met Taylor at a place of Dr. Robbins's choosing, an out of the way bar where neither of them was known. Phil had gone to the meeting; indeed, had readily agreed to it, because he was curious to know why this great man was obviously cultivating his friendship for some reason; Phil was quite sure, in his own mind, that there was an ulterior, perhaps even a sinister, motive involved, and the possible intrigue beckoned to him.
His suspicions were borne out for him in their subsequent conversation at the second meeting. Taylor Robbins had tried to bribe him . . . buy him out! Phil had been both shocked and flattered, but he had turned down cold Robbins' offer of an eighth of a million dollars - one hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars - for Phil's secret formula.
The man must be mad! If I sold out to him . . . I'd lose my job . . . maybe never be able to get another one like it! It wouldn't be hard for the security people to figure out how the competition got it. True. . . I won't get anything other than my salary. . . Oh, there might be a bonus. . . But, all research data belongs to Northern... I, and every other researcher have to sign an agreement to that effect. Actually, I'd be stealing. . . and I'm no thief! I'd sure hate to mess up my future in this industry.
There's still such a thing as loyalty. . . and Northern had sure given me some breaks! Why should I turn on them . . . for money? Hell! I'm tempted... there's no denying that! Who wouldn't be. . . ? Christ! The things I could do with that amount of loot! Buy that nice house we both want. . . start our family. . . acquire some good investments... good growth stuff. . . But I know Rhoda would agree with me. . . We just couldn't do it with crooked money! No, Sir! I've made my decision . . . and I'm going to stick with it! I don't want to have any part of Taylor Robbins. . . or his money! Anyway, no amount of money could convince me to sell out Northern . . . or myself!
After the meeting with Taylor Robbins, Phil had driven to another bar and proceeded to get drunk, finally going home, sick at heart, worried to death that Taylor would find some other way to get hold of his research notes. He was sexually frustrated and needed the comfort of sex. Unfortunately, he had been brutal with Rhoda. He hadn't meant to be, nor had he intended it, but her questioning his late arrival had triggered his already mean mood into outright sadistic rage. He hadn't understood himself, for afterward, he was truly sorry, contrite and guilt-ridden. Rhoda had made him sleep on the couch that night. He had deserved it, he guessed, but he had vowed to make it up to her; he had even agreed that they should go together for marriage counseling. That was a giant step in the right direction.
Phil could not understand it, the reason for it seemed to escape him, but for the last several nights, the lovemaking sessions in bed with Rhoda had been different . . . more satisfying, for him; although he knew it had not been so for Rhoda. Phil's need had been great.
He had kissed her breasts, the nipples coming up hard, erect, and then she had writhed under him, moaning gently.
"Phil, oh Phil! Love me! Lick me . . . there!"
There had been both shock and pleasure in him. He had been trying, unsuccessfully for some time, to convince her that the act was desirable, but the very thought of cunnilingus had been repugnant to her. She had, consistently, adamantly refused his overtures in that direction.
He had moved over her loins, his tongue seeking and probing, but he had been inept, in too much of a hurry to get to his own enjoyment, leaving her naked loins too soon, to ram his hard cock into her with rampaging fury. She had been left frustrated, right on the verge of a soaring climax as his thundering prick had spewed into her... too soon. He couldn't understand her quick tears, and she was unable to communicate her need to him to tell him, specifically, what it was she needed.
Damn it to hell! You're damned if you do . .. and damned if you don't! I wish I could understand Rhoda. . . figure out what she really wants! God! I was so hot. .. and so was she. .. but I couldn't bring it off. . . for some reason. She sure surprised me. . . wanting me to go down on her. . .
Then, Wini Brent had come into his life.
She was the newest girl in the secretarial pool. He had sent down a report to be typed, and she had made it a point to return it to him, personally. She had wanted to make sure that she had spelled all of the technical terms correctly. Standing at his elbow, helpful, eager eyes looking out through her glasses up at him, as they checked over the twenty page report, together, she had captivated him.
"What did you say your name was ... ?" he asked.
"Wini. .. Wini Brent..." she murmured. "I'm new . . . " "Yes .. . Well, I like the way you did this report for me. . . I'll have to try to get you, again ..." he promised.
She smiled. "I try to please . . . Mr.
Grey . . . every way I can ..." she lilted.
Phil looked at her again. Red hair framed a small, pixie face, petite body, sensibly dressed in skirt and blouse, not too revealing, although he was sure that underneath the working clothes there was a magnificent body. He came back to her face where the glasses gave her an owlish look and decided that without her glasses she would be extremely attractive . .. not attractive . . . beautiful! That was the right word. The implication in her voice was not lost on him.
"Every way . . . ?" he asked.
"Why don't you try me ... " "Meet me for a drink... right after work . . . ? The Pump Room . . . ?" he suggested.
They had two drinks. Their hands wandered. "I have a small apartment . . . not far from here ..." she invited. "Let's go!"
They were in her bedroom.
"God . . . you're a beautiful woman!" Phil said, staring at her nakedness. She lay on the bed nude. Phil still stood beside the bed, his trousers still on; he was hesitant . ..wanting it. . . wanting her, yet he held back. Infidelity was new to him; twinges of conscience stabbed him just at the point of his taking action.
Christ! What am I doing here. . . ? I'm sure not playing ball with Rhoda! But, damn it! I'm so hot now. . . there's no turning back! What the hell! I guess I'll only live once!
"Let me help you get your pants off . . . Phil," Wini volunteered.
She sat up and reached for his fly, unbuckling his belt, zipping down and assisting him to remove trousers and shorts; then, she reached up, put her arms around him and pulled him down to the bed on top of her, her mouth open, expectant, waiting for his kiss. Her body was all soft, warm and full of curves. His mouth was on hers and her tongue burst into his mouth bringing the sweet-sour of her with it. Below her pelvis ground up at him, capturing the length of his cock between her thighs and bringing his blood-engorged shaft to painful hardness. He could feel the lubricating juices spasm from the tip, the jerking tool resting in her nervous furrow. His cock was so sensitive now that he felt he would come to ejaculation with the slightest extra pressure.
He thrust his tongue against hers, pushing on through to lash his oral member into her mouth. She sucked his tongue, gently, using her teeth to nibble on it, taking tiny, playful bites. He couldn't get Rhoda out of his mind; the guilt of what he was doing to her, to their marriage, weighing heavily down upon him.
Wini turned her head, breaking the oral contact.
"Thinking about your wife . . . ?" she asked.
It was almost as though she were psychic, able to read his mind; he was startled.
"Yes .. . yes, I was ..." he admitted.
"Don't!" she said. "I want you to live ... for just this moment . . . this space in time . . . with me."
Intelligently, Phil followed her reasoning. It was not a new philosophy of life. "Existential..."
"Yes . . . the only way ... for me!" she said. Her body quivered and moved licentiously under him.
"You do want to . .. fuck me .. . don't you . . . ?" she pouted.
"Yes! Christ, yes!" He had never heard a woman use the word before; it excited him, even more.
"Then why don't you tell me . . . ?"
"Wini ... I want to fuck you!"
"How?" she moaned. "Tell me how you want to fuck me!"
"God! I want to bury my cock in you ... as far as it'll go . . . Fuck you like a rutting bull!" he grunted.
Her legs splayed out beneath him, and her hand searched down between them to the hardness of his cock. Her cool hand found him, touched him, her fingers closing around the rigid maleness of him, sending gasps of pleasure emitting, involuntarily, from his throat.
She pulled her body in close, her hands running down over his body to his buttocks; grasping them, she strained to get his tool wedged into her. She shaft of his lust-filled penis lay hard in the cusp of her thighs, pressed into the narrow, hair-lined, quiveringly ready slit. Now, she guided the slick, rubbery head up and down her pink, wet furrow, spreading the inner lips to gain access to the waiting portal of her palpitating vagina. The hair grazed and teased his cock, making it grow even harder in her hand, and the ache of it . . . the need to plunge it into her was so great he could hardly stand it.
God! He couldn't hold back another second. Flicking his hips forward, he drove his massive phallus into the hot, gaping cuntal passage below, rutting into her with animalistic abandon.
"OOOOoooooooh!" she moaned beneath him.
His cock went into her, stretching and driving all before it. He felt the warm, elastic sheath of her vaginal walls slip wetly over his sensitive, naked length. The knobbed cudgel raced up her cunt to the full depth of her and he hit bottom, his loins crashing into hers as his balls slapped hard up against the full, rounded cheeks of her bottom.
Screaming a guttural, animal-like scream beneath him, Wini twisted and turned trying to escape the sudden, unexpected pain of his entrance, but he thrust even harder into her, an animal cruelty in him, making him want to hurt her. She thrust back at him, then, lifting them both off the soft mattress as she took him full-length and breadth into her seething pussy. Insanely, he began to pound into her with long, ramming thrusts of pure lust.
Wini moaned unceasingly beneath his pummeling, pumping body, her legs splaying wide, her loins rising to meet him, working herself up and down his skewering cock fucking into her searing depths, chanting a rhythm as old as man, dancing the dance of age-old sex that was new to every man and every woman. Her mouth hung open, her head turning from side to side, her eyes glazing, as she crooned to him, mewling deep in her throat.
"Fuck me hard . . . harder! Deep! Hard! Fuck me! Oh, fuck me!"
Her words served to fuel his own desire, as he continued to drub his blood-engorged shaft into her, his cock a living instrument of torture and pleasure to her at one and the same time.
Suddenly, she had to have more . . . more pleasure . . . more pain. Her contorted face grimaced up at him, as she shrilled, her voice inhuman in timbre and volume.
"Oh, God, Phil! Hurt me! Make me scream! I can't cum until you . .. make me scream!"
"What ... do you want. . . Wini, Baby!" he panted.
"Shove your finger in my ass! Shove it in . . . all the way!"
Phil had never done it, but he didn't hesitate. The sadistic streak in him was counterbalanced by her need for painful punishment. He reached under her, groping between those slaving buttocks as he drove his rock-hard cock deeply into the moistness of her demanding, voracious cunt. He stretched widely, his hand plundering, the tip of his little finger searching for that brown, puckered nether ring of her rectum.
He found it. Teasingly, he allowed his finger to circle that secret place. Viscous moisture dripped down from the cuntal opening, wide-spread to receive his hard rod of maleness that drove into her. It served to lubricate the tight, puckered little hole, as he dragged his finger through the wetness, moistening the tip of it. Probing experimentally, he pushed, feeling a little give, then shoving harder he felt the tight elastic muscle ring give way completely and his finger went into her up to the first knuckle, his fingernail scraping the soft, inner passage. She jumped, her instinctive reaction to get away from the pain, shrink back away, causing her loins to jerk back and down, screwing into the softness of the mattress in an attempt to escape the first punishing pain.
"AAAAAAaaaaagh! God! Oh, God it hurts!"
He shoved, again, and his finger went into the soft sponginess of her rectum to the second knuckle.
"More! Give me more! Make it really hurt!" she demanded.
Screwing her hips back, she worked herself back on his finger until it was sunk in her backside all the way to the palm of his hand. He moved his finger in a circle inside her anus, feeling his own rampaging cock through the thin walls of tissue that separated her cunt from her rear channel. It was a rare sensation to feel his penis sliding in and out of her; he experimented with moving his finger in such a way as to gain maximum contact and the erotic feeling it gave him was almost unbearable. Then, he began to move it in the fleshiness of her backside in tempo with the larger phallus of his loins that ravished her cunt. She spread her legs wide to give him better access to her pelvic floor as both instruments drubbed in and out of her to the inexorable rhythm of primitive sex . . . raw, lustful, salacious sex.
Phil felt his cock as it grew ever larger and longer inside her, the pleasure-pain building ever higher in his balls as they slapped heavily into the cheeks of her upturned ass below. He knew it would not be long before his load of semen would have to be jettisoned, but he would be able to hold out only a little while longer. God! Why didn't she cum? He was giving her everything he had!
She moaned with passion incessantly beneath him, as her thighs opened and closed around him in time to his long, hard plunges to the depths of her searing pussy. Suddenly, he knew that she must be near her climax. Her moans became articulate, the words spitting out of her mouth at him.
"OOOooooh! Fuck it! Fuck it, hard! HAAaaaarrrd! God damn it! Fuck it! Fuck it! Fuck it! Hard! Hard! Hard!" she chanted up at him, her eyes suddenly uncontrollable in her head, her face contorted and straining, as she reached for the last erg of pleasurable sensation.
"Oh, God! I'm almost there! I'm going to cum! Oh, Christ! I'm cumming! AAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaagh!"
She pulled her thighs back against her chest until the whole of her punished vaginal furrow was presented up to him to pummel and fuck as he willed, her crotch squirming and gyrating beneath him, wildly, wantonly, her hungry cunt-lips clasping and unclasping as his rod sawed back and forth in her with ever-increasing force.
She thrust up at him then, locking herself to him with all her strength, and her loins jerked and spasmed up against his belly. She held her breath for several moments as he stroked into her, she holding her body rigid, absorbing every bit of him to the core of her. She collapsed with a great sigh, expelling her held breath, the uncontrollable tremors inside her vaginal vault communicating their messages to him. He had almost reached his own jetting climax, but he stopped, resting atop her, hoping that she would rise to him, again, for a second climax.
"Oh, Phil! That was good!" she smiled up at him. "But you . . . you haven't finished, yet!"
"No! But, I'm almost there!"
"Pull out for a second!" she said. "I'll show you something ..."
Obediently, he raised himself, allowing his painfully sensitive prick to pull from her steamy moistness. She reached down between her legs, grasped his cock firmly and guided it to the entrance just vacated by his finger. Satisfying herself that it was lined up, she began to screw her rectum up on the length and breadth of his rod of hard male flesh. It was a deliciously excruciating sensation of pleasure-pain, and he thought he would cum off before his penis was entered all the way in the soft sponginess of her backside.
"Now, fuck it into me . . . just like it were my cunt!"
Willingly, he did as she bade him, pulling out and slamming into her for several strokes, the unbelievably sharp sensations racing the length of his cock as he moved in the tight constricting sheath. Suddenly, the acid, burning sensations of his ejaculation burst upon him, and he spewed his white, viscous sperm deep up into her bowels, the pumping, spasming feelings never seeming to end. Never in his life had Phil experienced anything like that.
"Christ! I'm being pumped dry!" he panted.
He tumbled down on her, no longer able to support himself above her. He lay still, his cock throbbing in her back passage.
Several minutes passed. Wini stirred under him.
"Did you like it, Phil?" she asked him. "Yes! God yes! I've never had a fuck like that!"
"Phil, I'm going to be honest with you ... I seduced you . . . you know ..." she said. "Yes ... I know ..."
"And you liked it.. . liked me . .. ?" she persisted.
"I loved every minute of it!" he affirmed. "I'm very expensive!" "How much...?"
"I want the formula you're working on!" "Christ! Why don't you ask for the moon!" he spat.
"We'll split 50-50 when I sell it ... " she offered. "No sale!"
"You'll have me ... to boot!" she bargained.
"You tempt me!"
"We could go away, together ..."
Phil was silent.
"You don't want me, then . . . ?" "I didn't say that!" Phil snapped. "I'm thinking!"
"Northern will never pay you what it's worth!" she probed. "I know!"
"People should have money when they're young . . . and can enjoy the things that money can buy . . . ?" she went on, building her case.
"You're right, again!"
"You're being used! Your talents are being exploited ... in exchange for what . . . ? Nine or ten thousand dollars a year in salary . . . ? Is that about what you make . .. Phil?" she asked, making the question a statement of a cold fact.
"About that ..." he allowed.
"And . . . what have you got. . . ?"
"Nothing! Not a God damned thing!" he blurted.
"Well. . . ?"
"I'll hate myself!"
"Sooo . . . hate yourself all the way to a Swiss bank!" she smiled. "What have you got to lose?"
"My job . . . my wife ..."
"You can get another job ... if you need to . . . another wife if you have to ... " she said.
"Then, there's my self-respect!"
"You can learn to live . . . with ... or without it!" she suggested. "You'll find it's not that all-important!"
"I take it you're speaking from experience. . . ?" he queried, sarcasm dripping from his voice.
"Yes."
"You're a little whore!"
"The world's oldest profession!" she said, defiantly.
"Doesn't it bother you that I called you a whore?"
"No! I've learned to live with it ... " "And, you like it . . . ?" he probed.
"The money's great!" she answered. Then, "Well. . . what is your answer . . . ?"
An idea had begun to form in the back of his mind, and now, it pushed its way forward, crowding out other, more logical reasoning. He made his decision.
"Yes," he said. "I'll do it!"
"Come on . . . let's freshen ourselves up a little bit . . . and I'll take you back to bed . .. would you like that . . . ?"
"MMMmmmm, Yes!"
"What is your pleasure, this time . .. ?"
"A little sixty-nine would be fine ..." he said.
* * * The following morning Phil did some homework. From his files he removed a folder of his notes along with several reports. He re-typed new first and last sheets and signed his name on the last sheet.
Finding Wini Brent in the Secretarial pool, he told her that he wanted an original and two carbons of the report.
"The second carbon is for you . . . You'll have to figure out how to get it out past the security guards!" he told her.
"I'll find a way, Mr. Grey ..." she said, easily.
"Will I see you tonight?"
"No .. . I'll be quite busy ..." she answered.
"Give Taylor my regards!" he said jauntily, sure of himself.
"Taylor? Taylor who?"
"Your tailor ... I guess ..." he said, not quite so sure, now.
"You're fun!" She said. "Always saying the craziest things!"
"Yes," Phil said. "I know ... I'm laughing myself sick over this one!"
"You'd better run along and play with your chemistry set some more ..." Wini reminded him. "Or I won't be able to get your report back to you in time!"
"Miss Brent . . . you're so right! I'm going to blow the place up ..." he grinned.
Phil chuckled to himself all the way back to his project office. It was a joke he was really going to enjoy!