by Various
Elena’s family was blue-collar; she never felt comfortable around intellectuals. But this man went out of his way to put her at ease. He told her about all the crap jobs he worked to put himself through school. And he seemed to genuinely find her lack of vocation charming.
‘You just need to make a list of all the things you’re passionate about. What are some of the things you like to do?’
‘Well, I know a lot about food and wine, but that doesn’t mean I have a passion for the culinary arts. I just fell into catering because I grew up around good food. And you can tell by my figure I like to eat. Let’s see. Took some drawing classes at art school only to be told I’m not the next Picasso. Went to massage school only to realise, if I’m holding a bottle of almond oil, somebody’s going to get a handjob.’
Donohue put his hands up in mock arrest. ‘OK, here we are. I’m sure I can find some honest work for you to do.’
El was immediately impressed by the wall-to-wall books but there wasn’t much time to gawp. Her new boss presented her with an ergonomic chair at a mahogany desk and gave her a stack of handwritten notes he wanted transferred to a twenty-first-century format.
After two hours of transcribing, she was startled by a rattling sound made by a cup and saucer. Her boss had just handed her some much needed fuel.
‘If you don’t mind, I’ll make the coffee too, sometimes.’
Don’t jump him yet, Elena warned her randy self. Don’t scare him.
Just a week after working in Pacific Heights, Elena had forgotten what it was like to wear an apron all day and come home at night reeking of garlic. She could get used to this genteel setting. She didn’t mind the factotum work if it meant being privy to the warm, wonderful scent of Declan’s cologne. The timbre of his dictation reached her ears like the voice of an angel. She constantly imagined raking her fingers through his thick black hair and kissing his sweet, handsome face. She feared his reaction if he knew how wet she was in her seat while trying to retain an erect carriage.
Maybe he’d fire her. One never knew if a man of letters had a libido.
A fortnight into her new gig, she was so frustrated that there was nothing to do but go home and masturbate. As she made ready to leave, having piled her boss’s notes in an organised fashion, she pulled a book from her purse and returned the paperback to its rightful place on the mantel.
Running his fingers through the ebony hair El coveted, Declan paused under an archway and said, ‘That’s an early one. Did you enjoy it?’
‘Yes,’ she admitted. ‘Almost forgot I was reading science fiction.’
‘Ha! Well, thanks for everything. See you tomorrow, then.’
Elena took a deep breath. She had to make a move or forever file her lust.
‘Is there anything else I can get you before I leave? Some stamps from the post office? Coffee? A blowjob?’
Declan let out a low whistle and shook his head ruefully. ‘This isn’t that kind of job, El.’
‘I know,’ she said, walking towards him to unzip his fly. ‘I have boundary issues. I’m sorry, but I have to do this. I have to love you up; I just have to.’
Once Declan’s cock was released to the flagrant world, El held it in her palm, caressing the erection, lightly waiting for her boss to demur.
He looked at her and smiled. The time for taking umbrage had passed. He would accept the heat of her desire and, even if he didn’t wish to see her again, she would forever warm herself with the memory of the moment.
His cock thrilled to her touch, bounding out of her hands and into her mouth. With her glossa as adept, she could have charmed his wand from the depths of an Ali Baba basket. She let her tongue loll round the crest before making exquisite progress down to the root of his shaft, compressing her lips there so the entirety of his maleness would feel wholly and completely loved.
Declan murmured words of appreciation as El’s lips took pulls back up to the tip of his cock, where she let her tongue knead and pleasure that heavenly lobe. His hands ranged over her nape and the crown of her blonde head as she licked and loved and licked and loved, learning at long last what it meant to go weak in the knees.
He nearly buckled from the weight of the ecstasy she was handing him on a golden platter but, when she gormandised his phallic offering with pure, uninhibited deep throat, he froze in place, riveted. When he came, she felt cleansed and spirited, his semen the closest thing to a balm her soul could approve.
And so the two enjoyed a tectonic shift in their work relationship. Every day before she went home, El would make lingual love to Dec’s cock. It wasn’t something that needed to be addressed; it was just something that needed to happen.
Sometimes she’d give him a massage and then fixate on fellatio. Other times she’d cradle his cock in her palm and hold it there so long Dec assumed that day he’d only be getting a handjob. He’d be wrong. She was just treating his maleness like an objet d’art before welcoming the wondrous pulse of him to her palate.
One day, after she had gone down on him and pleasured him to the point where he thought he might burst, he slipped his hand down her panties and finger-fucked her until she came.
‘You’re so wet,’ he whispered in her ear. ‘All this from going down on me.’
El shrugged. ‘Making you happy is the biggest turn-on. The approval in your eyes is the greatest aphrodisiac.’
Declan made no reply to that. Instead he took her out to dinner to a crowded trattoria where the din made intimate conversation impossible.
One of the many things El liked about her boss was how generous he was with his knowledge. He let her borrow books and trade publications, Xeroxed articles for her to take home and even fronted membership fees so she could join the PFW.
The Prodigious Fellows Well-Endowed Library was a private lending library in the Financial District. She never knew such a thing existed – it didn’t seem right somehow, paying to use a library – but she was touched Dec thought the likes of her could benefit from such a place. She tried to calibrate her reading by checking out one weighty tome for every five popular fiction novels. Not a bad ratio for a woman whose career objective was yet to be determined.
One blustery afternoon, as Elena was clutching a handful of books having just left the PFW, she bumped into Victor Tollorino, her former boss and mentor.
He was looking unethically tan for this time of year, a chill grey day in February when Bay Area bibliophiles were either wan and harried, hunched over a stack of papers or home with a nice cup of cambric tea.
‘Elena, baby!’ Vic embraced his erstwhile employee then stepped back to give her a look-over.
‘El, you’re lookin’ good. How many years has it been? Six? Seven?’
‘Nine, Vic. Nine years have passed and I still don’t have a career.’
Why did she have to say that? She suddenly felt naked on the sidewalk, baring her foibles for the whole world to see.
‘Well, then, this is a happy coincidence. I just opened a joint in San Diego. You’d love it there. They got some famous zoo; you were crazy about animals as I recall.’
‘Um, I don’t have a career but I do have a job.’
‘Hey, c’mon. Let’s get out of this wind. Go have a drink or something.’
‘I can’t. My heart belongs to someone. It wouldn’t be right.’
Vic flashed his most toothsome smile. ‘Good for you, kid. Your fella wouldn’t object to you having coffee with an old friend. C’mon.’
And so they sat in a well-lit café and talked about the challenges of peddling pasta in a city where more and more people were demanding low-fat, low-carb meals.
She noticed he wasn’t wearing a wedding band but decided not to enquire about his marital situation. It was none of her business. Not anymore.
‘So, what do you say, El? You could run your own show in San Diego. Book the entertainers, plan the menu. San Fran’s not the place for an aging slacker, hon.’
El sto
od up. ‘I’m not moving. I’m in love.’ And as soon as she said the words she knew it was true: she was madly in love with Declan Donohue.
‘Goodbye, Vic. Good luck with your new restaurant.’
She turned on her heels and made haste to Pacific Heights where Declan greeted her at the door with her third cappuccino of the day and a lengthy to-do list.
She sped merrily through her work, looking forward to her reward: ladles of kisses followed by a rich serving of fellatio. She also had some good news she wanted to share but that was just a strawberry in the shortcake. First, she wanted to sup on what her palate most craved.
El had only managed to savour the tip of Dec’s cock and a few languid trips to the base of his shaft when the erudite man pulled her to her feet and changed the scenery.
He had always kept his bedroom door closed, but today he opened it and helped her out of her clothes until she was completely naked.
His fingers dovetailed between her thighs and he groaned at the warm welcome he found there.
‘Do you want me to make love to you?’ he asked, even as he parted her legs and pinned her to the chenille counterpane.
‘I’ve wanted you from the day we met.’ Before he entered her, she risked adding, ‘I’ve waited for you all my life.’
He looked deeply into her eyes and smiled. The risk had been worth taking.
As the tip of his cock probed her opening, she wished in vain she had never lain with another man. Some would say Elena Carlton had had more than her fair share of sex, but with Declan she was finally ready to make love.
I love you, Dec. I love you, I love you, I love you. She mentally shouted these words to the roof beams as their bodies rocked in tandem with this new blessed sense of purpose. His cock inside her was a beacon lighting her on the road to rapture, each thrust making her vulva more pliant, her loins two trembling boughs in a carnal storm.
She wanted to be loved by him, fucked by him. Taken, broken and put back together again. For the first time in her life she felt whole.
She came in uninhibited volleys of pleasure and, after love, they spooned together for a long while, both happy to rest in the lee of love’s embrace.
Eventually they got up and showered but, as they dressed, Elena asked her boss-turned-lover what had brought about the change.
Declan had just pulled an Aran sweater over his head, a sweater she found particularly attractive. It was all she could do not to jump him again.
‘You know how some men believe fellatio isn’t the same thing as sex? I was trying to be one of those guys. I was thinking, well, it’s OK if El goes down on me every day. I know she’s my employee and all but it’s not like we’re having intercourse. I didn’t expect this to happen but I’ve fallen in love with you. I want you to be my partner, not my factotum. I think we could be good together, El. I think we are good together.’
As Elena winkled into her jeans, she said, ‘Well, partner. I was going to save this bit of news for later, but I’ll go ahead and tell you now. I read that writing magazine you gave me and managed to sell an article to one of those glossy women’s magazines. It’s maudlin, nothing like the highbrow writing you do, but soon I’ll be in the chips. Bet you didn’t think I was such a quick study. I’m looking forward to taking you out to dinner when I get my cheque.’
Declan was strangely silent as he took in this news. They continued getting dressed but Dec’s face was now a mask of resignation.
‘What’s the matter, Dec? Aren’t you happy for me? For us?’
‘You don’t need me anymore,’ he said quietly.
She twined her arms round his neck and kissed him. Then she unzipped his trousers because they weren’t going out anytime soon. Her palate was still craving the full measure of her lover’s cock. Compared to his exquisite maleness, all other sustenance was beyond the pale.
‘Oh, I need you, Declan. I haven’t even begun to show you how much.’
She removed her clothes again and gestured for Dec to sit on the edge of the bed. Once she took his cock into her mouth, she felt a surge of energy that made her feel like the most desirable woman in the world. Yes, she needed this man. She needed him very much.
And, in her own way, she would make herself indispensable to the boss.
Welcome to Your New Job
Valerie Grey
The party had been going on for little more than an hour. I wore a nice black skirt and a white blouse that made me look rather plain. I stood in the corner of the ballroom sipping expensive champagne. I’d just started with the law firm as a paralegal a couple of months earlier. I didn’t know anybody really and I didn’t want to show up to the party at all but Tom, the attorney I worked for, insisted I come. I didn’t want to say no; or rather I couldn’t.
I saw one of the senior partners strolling across the ballroom floor, coming my way, and wanted to run to the ladies’ room. His name was John Wheeler and he scared me, I don’t know why exactly. I had no idea why he would come talk to me; I was a nobody, a new, simple paralegal, while he was the old hotshot lawyer. He was a god in the office; I didn’t know the details of the case, but I’d heard he’d pulled a major coup the previous year, some class action that he’d manipulated brilliantly. He’d made a ton of money for the firm, and himself. Since then, he could do whatever he wanted in the firm and I’d heard he’d ‘conquered’ a number of the women in the office. Rumour had it he preferred anal sex and fucked them hard and left them quickly with broken hearts and pained asses. I had an aching in the pit of my stomach as he got closer. Maybe it was his eyes, the way he stared through me, like he was picking at my soul and determining what made me tick.
John stood right in front of me, almost engulfing me with his frame and blocking me from the rest of the guests at the party. The blood was pounding in my ears and my stomach was on fire.
He said, ‘I’ve been watching you.’
My mouth was dry; I wanted to respond but I couldn’t say anything. He had me pinned against the wall; I could feel his thick leg against mine holding me there.
‘What are you doing?’ I asked nervously.
He said, ‘It’s time.’
‘Time, time for what?’ I tried to stay calm but I could hear my voice cracking. I am petite, five foot four, and he was six foot three; I felt like a small animal trapped by a predatory beast.
He said, ‘It’s time for you to become my slave, of course.’
‘What the hell are you talking about?’ I tried to push him away, putting my hand on his rock-hard chest, but he didn’t budge. He grabbed my wrist and twisted it. The pain made me tingle between the legs.
He said, ‘I know you’re a slut. I bet you want me to fuck you right now. You want my nine-inch cock up that little pussy, splitting you open.’ He twisted my wrist even harder. I could feel the strain in my bones. ‘You want me to make you scream right here? No one will care, believe me.’
I could feel the moulding on the wall pressing into my hips. I couldn’t even see around him, he was so much bigger than I was.
I gave in. ‘What … what do you want?’
‘I want you to go into the ladies’ room and remove your panties. Don’t say a word to anybody. Then go get me a drink, a Long Island Iced Tea. Then I want you to come right back to me and put your panties in my jacket pocket, understand?’
I couldn’t take my eyes off his. The hair on the back of my neck stood up and a chill ran down my spine and my pussy started to get wet. John let go of my wrist. I rubbed my arm where he’d twisted it. His thigh was still against mine, pinning me up against the wall.
He said, ‘You have ten minutes. If you’re not back by then, you’ll be punishedlater.’
He moved out of the way just enough for me to get by. I could feel the perspiration on my forehead. I thought everybody was watching me as I moved through the crowd. It felt like my face was on fire as I made my way to the ladies’ room. My legs were unstable. I slipped into one of the stalls and locked the door s
hut. I sat down on the toilet seat trying to catch my breath.
I considered sneaking out the back way. What could he do to me? I’d just avoid him at the office, I’d … but what if, what if he did something at the office, what if he told people things? I couldn’t afford to lose my job and there was a look in his eyes that made me afraid he’d do something to truly hurt me.
My pussy was a traitor, burning so …
Three minutes. I didn’t have much time. My hands felt like they were wrapped in huge awkward gloves as I slowly lifted my skirt and eased my panties over my hips. I couldn’t believe how wet my pussy was; juices were running down my thighs.
I knew my face must have been scarlet when I returned to the party. I had to concentrate on each step; my legs felt weary and weak. I could feel the eyes on me; they all knew I wasn’t wearing panties.
He hadn’t moved an inch. He didn’t react when he saw me, but I knew he was watching my every move.
I went to the bar and ordered a Long Island Iced Tea. I brought it to him, doing exactly as I was told. My voice was mousy when I greeted him; I could barely whisper out the words: ‘Your drink, Mr Wheeler.’
He grabbed me by the shoulders and pushed me against the wall again and said, ‘From now on you will call me Master, nothing else.’
I couldn’t do anything; there was no place I could go and nothing I could do to get away.
‘Do you have something for me?’
My hand shook so badly, I could barely grab my panties from my bag. I pulled them out and tried to hide them from view as I pushed them into his hand … but he wouldn’t take them.
‘Sniff them for me, tell me what you smell.’
‘Please,’ I whispered, ‘this has gone far enough.’
I felt his knee raise and press against my pussy. He started lifting me off the ground, spreading my legs as he forced me up. I tried to push down his leg but he was much too powerful for me.
‘OK, OK, I’ll smell them.’
