by Mia Ford
“Hey there cutie,” a voice said from behind me.
I turned around to see Mindy, a chick I have had more than one romp around the back room with in the past. She was no muss and no fuss, which was exactly what I was looking for. To top it off she was young, firm, and she liked a cock in her mouth. I nodded my head at her and smiled, seeing her eyes dilate at the interest I was showing.
“Come on,” I said, nodding my head toward the door. “Let’s go.”
“Not up for talking tonight, huh?”
“Not at all,” I chuckled. “And I have a pretty good idea where I want that mouth to go to.”
She looked at me for a second and then took me by the wrist pulling me back to one of the private rooms. I walked inside and strolled over to the couch, plopping down and looking up at her. She locked the door and turned toward me, her eyes darkened and her lips plump and juicy. She walked forward and grabbed a pillow tossing it on the floor in front of me. She looked up at me and smiled coyly as she undid the buckle on my belt and slowly slid the zipper down. She tugged on my pants, and I lifted my ass, letting her pull them, along with my boxers down to my ankles. I spread my knees apart and pulled my arms behind my head as she reached out and grabbed onto my already hard shaft. I had been ready for this all day.
She slid her hands up my thighs and dug her nails in, causing me to jump slightly. I could see the pleasure from my pain flash over her eyes, but before I could say anything, the feeling of her hot wet heat flowing over the crown of my cock took the words right out of my mouth. Her tongue flicked across the head, whipping back and forth to tease me and increase the intensity. She pulled my dick a little farther into her mouth and sucked hard, massaging right beneath the head with her tongue.
“Fuuuck,” I groaned, feeling her moist pouty lips trailing over every inch of my dick. She was so damn good at what she was up to. I had a moment of thinking about how many men the cute little hooker had put her mouth on. It was a fleeting moment. The pleasure swelling in my balls was enough to jerk my stupid ass right back into the moment.
I reached my head forward and curled my fingers through her hair, pushing down as she slid my dick into the back of her throat. I let her stay there for several seconds before tugging her head slowly back up. She glanced up at me with her soft blue teary eyes and groaned, the vibration shaking through my entire body. Immediately I wanted more, and I let go of her head, knowing she knew exactly what I wanted.
Up and down her head bobbed, the sound of her spit pulsing through my ears. I could feel her moist mouth dragging down my shaft and back up again, the cold air of the club hitting the wet areas and increasing my need to release. She reached up with her right hand and cupped my balls, rolling them gently in the palm of her hands. I groaned loudly, feeling my balls begin to tighten as she pulled her head back up and sucked hard in the back of her throat. She reached up with her left hand and situated right below her mouth, twisting it as she rose up, creating a sense of warm friction against my skin.
“You know what I want,” I groaned and lowered my voice, commanding her. “Make me come.”
I moved my hands down and grasped the edge of the couch knowing exactly what her next move would be. Both her hands grasped my thighs to brace herself, and her lips formed into a circle sheathing her teeth. She rose up on her knees and began to bob up and down on my cock so hard her face was hitting my stomach. I moaned loudly tensing the muscles in my thighs as she deep throated my erection over and over again until I couldn’t stand it any longer. I reached down and grabbed her head, slowing her speed just enough to hold back for a few more seconds. She smiled through the sucking, and I shook my head, wanting to see her pull my dick into her mouth.
As soon as I let go of her hair, she picked up speed again, placing her hands on my thighs and grasping on tightly. Her tits bounced against the insides of my legs as her face moved up and down in a frenzied rhythm. As the heat in my stomach began to overflow, I tensed my muscles and pushed her head down, watching as she put the head of my cock on the back of her tongue and sucked. I could feel the explosion inside her mouth, her throat pulsing against my cock as she swallowed my flowing hot seed. She moaned loudly, vibrating my shaft and I fell backward, the orgasm trickling away.
And that was the best way I knew for de-stressed after a hell of a week at work. Nothing felt better than the warmth of a willing girl’s sweet mouth. And especially the one that knew exactly what she was doing.
Chapter Two
Ruby
“It’s important that we drive the message home,” I said to the crowd at the meeting. “We want to get past the stigma people have about protestors. We want them to be open to listen to what we have to say. The time of non-sourced Facebook sharing is over. I want you to always present evidence of our cause through reliable, peer-reviewed, clear-cut information. In an effort to combat the Huffington Post sharers out there we have put together a packet of links every one of you will receive tomorrow morning. These are links to articles that are completely legitimate and have been tested and found to be true and unbiased in intent. We have some big protests coming up, and I want everyone to stay safe. Remember we are peaceful protestors. In the words of Dr. King, himself, ‘Non-Violence is a powerful and just weapon, which cuts without wounding and ennobles the man who wields it. It is a sword that heals.’ Thank you, everyone, for coming out.”
Everyone stood and clapped, making me feel satisfied that the speech had been successful. I had been protesting for years, through many different topics, but right then, my focus was centered around outsourcing and the damage it is doing to the economic and social climate in this country. Technically, I worked for an organization called Climate X who focused on different social justice issues. But in my free time, I headed up the local New York chapter of Keep Jobs at Home, a group of concerned citizens looking to make a difference in our current and future political climate when it came to outsourcing jobs to people in other countries. Today was the last full meeting before we marched through the streets of the city next week.
“Ruby,” Elizabeth, the co-chair of KJAH called out for me as I walked toward a desk at the back of the room.
“What’s up?”
“That was a great speech,” she said holding her folders close to her chest.
Elizabeth was a young college student, interested in social justice, passionate about the causes, but lacked the assertion to get out there and protest with all her might. Not everyone was made for sit-ins, sign holding, and marches through the city, so I took Elizabeth and put her in a position where we could use her talents of organizing to the best possible ability. She thought the world of me, which I never understood since I barely had said two words to her since she started with the organization.
“Thanks,” I said smiling. “I am excited about the protest next week. They told me you specifically went above and beyond, and we are supposed to have a noticeably increased turn out this time.”
“Yeah,” she said excitedly. “I mean the Facebook event alone has over three thousand people who said they were coming. Even if only half of them show up, it’ll be triple of what it was last time. Your message is getting out there.”
“It’s not my message,” I said patting her on the shoulder. “It’s the message of the people. The message of those who are without jobs, without companies, and are struggling because the U.S. is working against their own interests when it comes to business. It’s also about the people doing those jobs. They work in unbelievable environments, are paid pennies on the dollar, and are subjected to torturous scenarios, all to go home and live in poverty.”
“Absolutely,” she said blushing.
“Okay, I am going to go meet my sister for some drinks,” I said. “You got the rest of this.”
“Yeah,” she said nodding her head. “I’ll see you soon.”
As I walked out of the building, I stopped and shook several other protestors hands. I didn’t know how I had become the face of this movement,
locally, but it was kind of exhausting trying to get the job done when everyone wanted to have a conversation. The day was over, though, and I had promised my sister, Lisa, who also happens to be my best friend, that we would meet for drinks at a local pub in the Art District. She wanted to go to this uppity club, Exposé in Manhattan, but I was not feeling that at all. I was glad that she conceded and picked a more low-key spot.
When I arrived, I paid the cab driver and wandered inside, looking around for Lisa. I spotted her at the end of the bar, sipping on a pint of ale and trying to ignore the idiot guys behind her at the pool table. I smiled as I made my way over to her, hugging her tightly.
“My sister,” she sighed. “How was your meeting? You save any small children or large animals?”
“Not today, my friend, not today,” I said laughing. “It was the outsourcing organization. We have a protest next week.”
“Nice,” she said looking up at the bartender to get his attention. “Did you quote Thoreau this time?”
“No,” I grumbled. “That goes right over these people’s heads. I went with Dr. King this time because I was talking about peaceful protesting.”
“Good choice,” she said nodding her head. “So, what exactly are you working on with outsourcing.”
“It’s a social injustice, another way for big business to further separate the classes,” I said taking a sip. “People in this country are working jobs that don’t pay the bills because there isn’t anything else, especially for the working class. In the meantime, big companies with the money are sending jobs overseas, paying ridiculously low wages, and then using that money so they can buy bigger houses and more jets while Jane starves in the streets. Not to mention they skirt most of the labor laws this country has enacted to ensure workers are treated fairly, furthering the degradation of other countries and keeping their poverty line at unnecessarily low levels.”
“Don’t companies do it so they can stay in business because of the extremely tight measures on taxation and manufacturing guidelines?”
“They use that as an excuse. But the reality of it when you look at their quarterly earnings, they make more than enough money to keep everyone in the company happy and still create jobs in the United States which would help in decreasing our own poverty line,” I explained. “In the end, though, Joe CEO and his shareholders don’t want to take a million dollar pay cut.”
“I mean, would you?”
“When I made hundreds of millions a year? Yeah, I’d sacrifice that million or two,” I said shaking my head. “It’s greed and power driving them, and their want to keep the classes so far apart that no one will ever be able to move up, better their lives, and create a fairer wage system in this country.”
“I don’t know,” Lisa said. “There are pros and cons to everything.”
I did not want to have that conversation with her again. We had very different views on a lot of things, and we kept our peace with that by not discussing it. She was intense, I was passionate, and the two of us in a debate always turned into a screaming match. So, a long time ago we decided to cut off conversations before they reached that point.
“Yeah, there are,” I replied. “Anyway, so what’s up! How’s work, life, all that stuff?”
“Good,” she said, obviously okay with me changing the subject. “Stressful and always go, go, go, but you know how that is.”
“Yeah,” I snorted. “I don’t think I’ve had eight hours of sleep since I was a kid. And to think I complained when mom got me up during the summer after ten hours. I’d kill someone with a Twinkie to get 10 hours of sleep.”
“Oh,” Lisa said turning toward me. “That reminds me. I want to set you up on a blind date.”
“Okay,” I said cautiously.
“He’s a nice guy, a friend of mine,” she said shrugging. “He wants to take you to dinner on Friday.”
“Sure,” I said smiling.
“Really? I thought you would put up a fight,” she laughed.
“Nah, I need to meet people, even if it’s not a romantic match,” I said. “Everyone I know is in the business, it gets hard to have a conversation after a while. I need to get out, step out of my comfort zone.”
“That’s awesome,” she said, raising her glass. “To new beginnings.”
“Here, here,” I said clinking her glass and taking a sip.
Sure, the guy might be an immature tool like every other guy I’ve dated, but at least I would meet someone new. I had a challenging time with guys because they all wanted to play games and have fun. I had goals, a life, and a lot on my plate. I was starting to think there wasn’t a mature guy left out there.
Chapter Three
Nathan
I lived on the 51st floor of The Avalon, an apartment complex dedicated to the service of the excessively rich. There were 69 floors, maid service, concierge service, a café and roughly every amenity you could come up with. I liked it because everyone had their own little cliques, and I wasn’t part of any of them, so they left me alone. I was born into a wealthy family, so having a maid and all of that was perfect for me. I never had to worry about the little things. I stopped off at the café and grabbed a cup of coffee, saying hello to the usual barista, Gabby, who always had a sweet smile for me. I liked pleasant people, they made me want to be friendly to others as well.
As I walked toward the front door, I looked over to see George, Avalon’s doorman, standing to the side looking through some papers. He was one of my favorite people at the complex, and I was happy to see him since he had a firm grasp on things and usually gave wise advice. He was a portly man, in his mid-fifties, and always wore the standard bellhop outfit in red with gold trim. It made me think of those wind-up monkeys that slap the symbols together. It also made me appreciate my Louis Vuitton suit that was pressed and perfect on my back.
“George,” I said smiling and reaching out my hand. “You look younger by the day, sir.”
“Mr. Pope,” he said smiling back and grasping my hand tightly. “I feel younger by the day, too. How is business?”
“It’s great,” I said nodding my head up and down. “We are thinking about expanding overseas, it’s an enormous undertaking.”
“I’ve heard,” he said looking interested. “I read in Forbes, though, that companies that want to continue for decades are almost forced to expand internationally, so they don’t get left behind.”
“That is very true, all-American only works for a select few,” I replied. “My advisor has been trying to convince me to move forward with outsourcing to fund our expansion, but I’m struggling with the idea.”
“Well, as a working-class man outsourcing is not something I support,” he said. “But I have a different perspective than you. You personally need to choose what’s best for the company, but remember what’s best isn’t always what is most lucrative in nature. Sometimes you have to lose a little to gain a lot. Just my thoughts on it.”
“Your thoughts are always insightful,” I said smiling and shaking his hand again. “I’m off to work, you have a fantastic day and don’t let these richies give you a hard time.”
“You too,” he said with a wink.
One thing I always loved was the insight I garnered from George regarding the collective common man. It helped take my face out of the quarterly reports and remember that my company did have an impact on everyone else. It was hard to see that from the ivory tower at the top of the company, but George was always the man to let me know when I haven’t been thinking everything through. It was true, I had to do what was best for the company, and from the outside outsourcing seemed like the right choice, but I needed more time to figure out what my other options were.
I hopped in my town car parked out front waiting for me and headed to the office, which was only about seven blocks from The Avalon. I looked out the window at Central Park which was across the street and wondered about the people who went to the park to play with their dogs, read a book, or just walk around. What was their
life like? Were they part of the system disrupted by outsourcing and corporate greed? It was a deep thought, something I usually tried to stay away from, but this one was going to have a direct impact on how I ran my company.
When I got to the office, I sat down and skimmed through my emails, answering the important ones. There were always so many damn emails that I could sit here all day, every day, and still not make a dent. I needed to hire someone just to go through my inbox every day.
“Mr. Pope,” my secretary said from the intercom. “Chris Cantu is here to see you.”
“Yes, send him in,” I said, closing out my desktop.
“Chris,” I said as he entered the office. “How are you feeling?”
“Still hungover from our Saturday debauchery,” he said plopping down in the chair in front of my desk.
“You too? I pretty much laid around the apartment reading the paper all day yesterday,” I said. “Even my normal green smoothie didn’t take away the punch.”
“Neither did my plate of fried foods,” Chris said laughing.
“You need to consider a healthier diet,” I replied, always getting on him for eating like a teenager. “One day you’re going to wake up with clogged arteries and a hundred extra pounds.”
“I don’t think it happens overnight,” he laughed.
“All the more reason to get ahead of the game now,” I said smiling. “Besides, chicks don’t like fat guys, unless they have enough money to make it worthwhile.”
“True,” he said lifting his eyebrows. “But speaking of getting ahead of the game, have you put any more thought into outsourcing?”
“Of course, it’s been on my mind,” I said with a sigh. “I’m not quite ready to make a decision. There are a lot of things to be weighed and it kind of goes against the whole reason I started this company in the first place.”
