Posts Tagged ‘ fiction ’

Wicked Wednesday: All Business

Wednesday, December 2nd, 2009

*Note: many thanks to Norway (have we talked about her yet? No? Don’t fret, I have a feeling we will be) for the “assignment.” I asked for a little inspiration this week, and got it. It’s a long one…hope you stick with it.*

I could hear the buzz of activity in the nearest of the cubicles outside my corner office. Unusual for a Monday morning. I grumbled to myself, cranky, and turned toward the floor-to-ceiling picture windows that looked out over Boyleston St. Boston was busy with shoppers rushing home with their treasures. Oh, fantastic, now that song would be stuck in my head for the remainder of the day. I was rather loathing the holidays this year, facing them alone for the first time in so long I could barely remember? Ever? I didn’t  think so. I rubbed my face and sighed, turning back to my large and fairly empty oak desk, answering my insistent speakerphone.

“Your 10:00 is here,” my executive assistant, Julia, slightly breathless. I wondered idly if she’d been toying with herself under the desk again, then shook the memory of having walked in on her late one night when returning to pick up a prospectus I had left behind.

“Thank you, send her in.”

My 10:00. I hadn’t met her. She was the CEO of a global multimedia company. I knew she wanted to pitch an idea she had for some sort of mobile marketing campaign that would help launch my flagship boutique over on Newbury. I turned in my leather chair as Julia announced her arrival and stepped back to let her in to my office.

I stood up and shook her hand, we made the perfunctory introductions and both refused the coffee offered before Julia bowed out with her eyebrows raised in a blatant “ohmigod how hot is she?” look. Hmmm…maybe the day wouldn’t be a total wash after all. I appraised her very expensive Armani suit, replete with a subtly striped Italian silk tie. She shot her cuffs and shot me a look. Kindred spirit, obviously. As high femme as I am, it does take one to know one. Although she was far from femme. In fact, had I met her outside the office I would definitely have been intrigued. Oh hell, I thought,  I was anyway.

I started to sit back down but a flurry of activity outside the kitchenette caught my eye. I leaned across the desk to see my staff pulling a rather large, garishly decorated cake out of a white bakery box. Oh God, no. I suddenly remembered how low cut my dress was and looked down to see my cleavage spilling out before I could catch myself. I glanced up. She was looking. Definitely looking. Definitely also interested.

I cleared my throat. “I’m sorry,” I said. “Do you mind if I close the door? It seems my staff has decided to plan a birthday surprise and really, I was hoping to just let the day slip by unnoticed.” She was fine with it. Of course, was she actually going to say no? She was offering her services after all. I got up and walked over to the door, gently but firmly shutting it. I could feel her eyes on my ass and turned to catch her gaze lingering on my stilettos. Okay, concentrate. Business. Right.

“Happy Birthday,” she said. Was she grinning?

“Oh, please,” I shook my head, “I’m not happy about this one. At all.” I felt myself put one hand under my chin. I know I actually batted me eyelashes. Fuck. What the hell was wrong with me?
“Look,” she said, “I know I’m here to pitch a marketing plan for you. But maybe we could shelve the talk for another time.” She pushed her chair back. I knew what she wanted and suddenly I wanted nothing more. She walked around the back of my desk, unbuttoning her jacket as she did so. I stood up, prepared to turn around when she pinned me to the desk from behind. She had one hand around the front of my throat and I was thisclose to pressing the intercom on my speakerphone when I felt the telltale bulge pressing up against my ass. Seriously? She hard-packed to a business meeting? She ran one hand down my arm to pin my palm flat against the desk, forcing me to bend over, leaned into me, and growled in my ear, “I always do my research before a meeting and I am never unprepared.”

Okay, I melted, I admit it. As a high-profile power dyke, I was always in control. I was the one who led little Miss Julia into my office that night and forced her to strip down for me, my plaything for the evening who’d do anything not to get fired. But here I was, in full view of the office next door and anyone on the street far enough away to see into my sixth-floor window, and I was about to get fucked good and proper by a total stranger.

Oh, she was good. While one hand deftly unsnapped my bra and caught my already hard nipple between her fingers, the other was pulling down her zipper and drawing out…shit, I couldn’t see. It felt big. My breathing was ragged as she pulled up my dress and proceeded to rip off my thong. “Hey,” I protested, “that was La Perla!” She pretty much told me to shut up and I did. Her hand ran from clit to ass and she chuckled at the slickness of my cunt. With the other hand she pushed me down against the desk so that I was bent over at the waist, both palms flat in front of me, my face pressed against the smooth wooden surface.

She wasted no time at all. Her cock slid into my eager pussy and yes, she fucked me good and proper. One hand on my clit, one hand on my hip and I was doing my damnedest to stifle the moans escaping me. Just as I was about to come and come hard she pulled out. Um, what the fuck? She had a handful of my hair, pulled me up and turned me around to face her. She was sitting down in my chair and I found myself straddling her lap without hesitation. As her dick slipped back into me, I noticed a small crowd of businessmen gathered at the window in the office across the street. Oh, I so wasn’t stopping now. I rode that cock so hard and fast that we were both working up a major sweat. It didn’t take long at all for me to throw my head back and pretty much sing her praises to the ceiling above. My orgasm was full force as she caught my exposed nipple between her teeth and bit down hard. Uh huh. Oh yeah.

She was grinning at me as we both put ourselves back together. The boys across the way were actually clapping. I blushed but did a modest curtsy and turned back to her as she picked up her leather attaché. Coach? Vuitton? I was so flustered I couldn’t tell. “Do you have plans to celebrate your big day?” Oh, so very mischievous.

I tried to collect my cool. “Mmmm…I think I just got my present.”

“I’ll pick you up at seven for dinner. We can do business then.” She walked to the door and opened it. “Oh…and maybe we’ll talk about that marketing plan, too.”

I sat down hard in my chair. I watched her pass the group of young women bearing my birthday cake. Julia turning her head to watch her walk away. A slight look of hunger in her eyes. They peeked into my office. “Surprise!!!”

I sighed. Smiled. Indeed it was.

WickedWednesday

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About Me

I am a suburban single mom—copy editor of higher ed textbooks by day, superwoman without a clue at night. I am currently on sabbatical from relationships. I'm scared shitless to be alone (particularly at 45 years of age) and yet, I find myself doing it. I have a string of failed relationships and have lived to tell about it. I am also highly sexual but not having a lot of sex. This means that I use my imagination to its fullest extent and have to test out a lot of my toys for review solo. I have to believe there are other folks out there who, whether by choice or by force, enjoy the pleasures of self-love.In addition to masturbation, I write. A lot. This is the outlet for my erotic bent. Or bent erotica. I have come to love the community of sex bloggers. They are an amazing group of talented and wonderfully supportive individuals. Please come back regularly and be sure to check out my links to spread the love to some of the greatest writers and artists around. Enjoy!

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