A Dream of Age & Beauty

I remained in place as she took a few more slow breaths, then turned to her right in a semicircle to face me, used both of her hands to lift my dutiful left hand to her lips as she kissed it and bent down to whisper in my ear.

"You just made me wet my pants you arsehole. In front of everyone. I hope you're happy, young man!"

"I enjoy my work..."

"Of course you do," she scanned the crowd quickly, we may as well have been alone, "now don't move and don't do that to anyone else!"

"Kate might enjoy it..." I said, nodding toward her very attractive blonde assistant, in a miniskirt not longer than four inches below her cute but rather thin arse, a recurrent joke on our parts.

"Only if you want to lose this hand, you love only me," her light blue painted nails trailing a circuit around just above my left wrist. She kissed me quickly, released my hand from her death grip, stood, brushed her dress smooth, and headed toward said assistant who was with a couple of other admins, standing at the edge of the crowd. She spoke to her outside of my hearing, the assistant nodded and we both watched her boss walk out of the room.

When she returned a few minutes later she had the same dress on as before but I noticed different stockings, obvious from the different colour and the faux-seam up the back. She'd also changed the thicker heels for what I knew were the highest stilettos she owned. There was also a slight change in the fit of the dress over her ample bust. I furrowed my brow and my cock twitched a bit at thoughts about that.

She came over to stand beside the chair once more, her hand behind her reaching to me. Blue boy short cut underwear folded up.

"Take these, you pervert," sotto voce.

"Ok." I did, slipping them into an inside pocket on the jacket, resisting the urge to sniff them.

"I didn't have a spare pair, so..."

I got the hint and slipped my hand back under the back of her dress, I found her silk-covered thigh that became skin as I quickly reached the top of her stockings, following a strap further up. I arrived at her ass cheek, bare, moved inward. She shifted her legs just apart, as before, but this time I found no interfering cloth. I came to her ass crease and turned my hand pressed my fingers past her perineum and onto her bare vulva, slipping a finger between her moist lips, my index finger pushed into her when she shifted and I stopped. Taking the hint I slowly removed my finger then arm.

"Time for that later. Just wanted to give you something to think about."

And I had it. She'd switched her undergarments for the open cup bustier and stockings set she knew made me crazy, the fabric of the dress thick enough she didn't seem worried her nipples would be distractions. Per that crazy suggestion I'd made in a pub she always went commando when she wore stockings. If only these folks knew. She left the micro- and mini-skirts to her younger admin and other colleagues. I didn't care about that, she had better legs than most of them but preferred the more sedate look. As they say, it's what's on the inside.

At that moment her admin looked at her and mouthed 'time' to be acknowledged with a nod.

"Just keep track of those hands, eh?" she said to me as she turned a bit, then gave me a kissing motion and walked toward her admin. They walked toward the podium and the screen changed to stay on a photo of her from a recent trade article and 'Yvonne Bolanos, Managing Director & Rising Star.' A round of applause as she stepped up to the podium and smiled broadly as people went quiet, those with children corralling them or moving them to the rear.

This party to celebrate the firm's 25^th anniversary here in the City was something of a coming out for us as I tended to show up only after work hours so before today I was something of a will-o-the-wisp to most of the folks, discussed and rumoured but not seen by most. Despite that no one here really doubted I was her boyfriend although few had ever seen us do so much as kiss. I also knew most of them weren't aware of her and me sharing hobbies such as enjoying F&SF books and movies, outre Japanese cinema and occasional tentacle porn, not common afflictions amongst these high-finance and society types.

I'd accompanied her to a number of gatherings of the swells and the old money types when she was cornered into attending them herself, not something either of us relished but given her business relationships and position not events she could always avoid. Wearing a suit was something I was slowly becoming more adept at and I was to the point where my own coworkers tended to open every conversation with 'you interviewing somewhere?' 'Training me' in how to dress myself was the one area I sensed Yvonne felt a bit of impatience with me but since the London trip she seemed satisfied with her level of success.

Whether anyone here shared the concern my mum had about our 'future' I didn't know, but I had no natural nesting or paternal instinct and was getting as much sex as I could handle, I got to eat at places and do things my budget wouldn't normally cover and when we weren't fucking our brains out she was simply as much a geek as I was.

Yvonne opened with the biggie, despite being one of the smallest this office had the highest per-employee earnings of any of the worldwide offices. That got a big cheer. The bigger cheer was when she said everyone would be getting a 5% bonus, on top of whatever their regular salary and commissions and other earnings.

A "Boss! Boss! Boss!" chant. Kinda weird. After she got them to settle down, she ran through a list of award winners, top sales, highest client reviews, that sort of malarkey that I wasn't a big fan of but what the hell. So long as I didn't have to work here and Yvonne enjoyed it. It was her thing. Mine was staring at a screen and using arcane abilities to make computers do things. She almost ended up in computers but a University course on finance had intrigued her. The ability to manage a herd of people and make them follow you into the gates of hell while frightening that same hell out of her competitors she found after rededicating herself to work after a seriously rough period.

Now she was reaping the rewards. Her employees loved and respected her, her bosses seemed to do likewise, the rather insular business community was taking notice of this daughter of immigrants. And, for what it was worth, she had someone whose favourite hobby was to make her eyes twinkle. Nothing was on autopilot but it was also steady and we had enough time to ourselves.

"Right, everyone," she said from the 'stage,' "dinner's at 7 on Cleveland St. Everyone have it? Remember, just us adults."

That got a cheer which I definitely thought was loudest from the parents in the crowd.

"Parking's kind of dodgy close by there so carpool or use a service. Plus, that means you get to enjoy more wine on my tab."

Cheers all around this time.

"See you all tonight!"

She stepped forward and had plenty of hands to shake and shoulder pats and even the odd hug. I was standing and had pulled on my jacket but remained at the edge surveying the scene. Finally the crowd was thinning as people left by ones, twos, families. I saw Yvonne walking toward me.

"Hey," I said, "good job boss lady."

"Stuff it, nerd," she said smiling broadly, "c'mon. We need to go do a phone call."

"We do?" She took my hand and led me out of the borrowed function room shared amongst firms in this building and towards the lifts. She caught Kate's eye on the way and as usual their telepathy was sufficient. We rode up the five floors with four of her employees who needed to collect things from their desks or for whatever other reason. A couple of glances specifically at my hand in hers and her slight lean into me. With these stilettos on we were essentially the same height. I liked that.

We walked into the empty offices and she released me as one of her employees asked for a private moment with her. I left her to it and walked over to finish boxing the 43" Samsung telly I'd pulled off of a conference room wall here, slipping my jacket off again and hanging it over the back of a chair. The Company CEO was going to speak to the dinner crowd so my job was to run the video link. A laptop, webcam, wifi and a telly. My boss, about 10 years older than Yvonne, loved to grumble at us about how horrid and difficult video conferences were when he was a younger man. Now, not so much.

"Hey, Costa," I heard the woman who'd been with Yvonne, "she asked me to send you in."

"Ok, thanks," brain racked, ah, "Anaya."

The friendly smile I hoped indicated I was right.

I walked into her office, she was leaning against the table, a slightly weary look on her face. She mimed at me and I pushed the door closed quietly and she put her arms out for me to walk into them. I put my arms around her waist and she pulled me in. I tasted her lipstick then it was gone and there was nothing but the flavours of her tongue and mouth. She leaned forward from the table and I grabbed each arse cheek with a hand and pulled her close.

She pushed me causing me to walk backwards until I was in front of her office chair. Then she pulled back and reached down to undo my belt and jeans.

"Need to be quick," she said as she pushed my slacks down and my stiff shaft popped out, "need to talk to my boss and I want some, well, reinforcement. Sit."

I did. She lifted her dress up to reveal the tops of her stockings and her uncovered and closely trimmed pubic region. I leaned in and used my mouth and fingers to find her already moist but helped her along.

After a minute or so she moved back and turned and bent over her desk near her phone. I stood up and pressed to her, my prick rubbing against her vulva as she exhaled slowly. I backed up and using my hand I aimed it and pushed into her moist slot slowly until I was fully in then pulled back and pushed a bit faster.

"That's it, hold it," and I paused as she hit the desk phone's speed dial for the London HQ. Or so I thought. Then I heard the speaker click on as her challenge to me to keep quiet.

"Hello?" A classically posh British accent.

"Mrs. Smythe, this is Yvonne Bolanos."

"Oh, good morning dear, I guess it's afternoon for you. He's right here. You must visit us again, it was so nice having you here in August."

She bucked against me so I took the hint to start pumping her pussy, starting slowly and gaining speed but keeping it to to second gear for now.

"Yvonne," I remembered that other very British voice from August, "I hope this afternoon went well."

"Quite well, sir, everyone was very pleased to hear about the bonuses and the other news," at bonus she pushed so I up-shifted into third gear to pound her faster.

"Your voice is a bit raspy, you're taking care of yourself? Not pushing too hard?"

"Yes, sir, don't worry about that, making sure I get well taken care of. Everything good for our dinner tonight? We'll have the video set up for you to talk to the team."

"All ready to go, I'm going into the office here in a few minutes. 9:30 our morning, 8:30 your evening. I hope everyone will be softened up with a few glasses of wine, I have a bit of a surprise planned but I think you'll like it."

"Oh? Anything I should prepare for?" Her tone told me she wasn't expecting this.

"No, no, you're quite prepared already. Now, you relax a bit and we'll talk again soon."

"Thank you, goodbye."

"Ta!" The line went dead.

She pushed back at me, hard, burying my cock fully into her suddenly hungry cunt. Then we found a joint rhythm, pulling my cock so just the head stayed in then burying all to its full depth hard and fast. I felt her fingers on my shaft as she worked her clit and I reached around to cup her tits, I could feel her nipples through the cloth but they made only the slightest visual bumps.

"Don't... cum in me... tell me... mess... ahhh..."

I knew what she meant, I felt her flesh squeeze me as she came, she kept pushing hard three more strokes before I felt the pressure build.

"Ok, now," I said as I pulled out of her and backed up. She turned quickly and squatted to wrap her hand around the base of my prick and swallowed half of it as my first spasm was delivered into her throat, followed by three more of reducing volume. She sucked slowly up the length of my dick, kissing the head softly once it was out of her mouth. She stood up licking her lips and leaned in and kissed me.

"Go get cleaned up," she said, "then get your stuff together. We should go."

I kissed her quickly then reached down to hold up my slacks and went into the small en-suite washroom attached to her office to clean up and redress. If the really sensitive of nose might notice something that's just all to the good. That done, I passed her on the way out seeing a pensive look on her face.

"What's his surprise?" I asked.

"No fucking idea..." she said, clearly not happy about that, "but nothing it seems I can do."

I twigged to her frown. It wasn't she hated surprises on principle, being clued into a forgotten classic sci-fi novel or movie, she quite enjoyed when I'd popped a Blu Ray of 'The Toxic Avenger' on her. But surprises around her work were not things she took to, especially when it was her bosses pulling the shit on her.

I squeezed her hand quickly to get a squeeze back and then left her to clean up as I opened the door to find a swath of empty desks. I double checked the little roller case with the laptop and cables and stood by the boxed telly waiting for my lover while I pulled my jacket back on.

She came out, pulling a blazer on over her dress, more for the image than for temperature which was a mild mid-spring day. She tossed me a red tie she'd assured me coordinated with my suit. I made sure it went into a different pocket so it didn't share space with her blue underwear. She grabbed the roller case handle and I hefted the boxed telly.

"Put that on before dinner. I've got an SUV coming, should be here by the time we get down."

"Lead on, boss!"

At the restaurant Kate and her boyfriend Michael, not Mike, had already arrived and Kate was reviewing the menu with the chef and Michael was sitting on a lounge with a beer. Despite being a solicitor I'd discovered he was a nice guy as we had found ourselves hanging out while our respective lady friends were doing Very Important Things.

The restaurant was in a large, old building on Cleveland Street. It reminded me of a church, a narthex-like area as you entered from near the main road that led into a transept with the apse converted into a glass-fronted climate-controlled wine cellar. The main dining area was a nave-like area with a glass-roof 15 metres above. Two entrances separated by a wall allowed traffic between transept and nave. On each outer side of the nave was an aisle, the far one held more tables. A few tables were set up in the transept to handle the expected crowd.

I happily set the boxed telly down. Michael helped me pull it out and we placed it on a bar table against the half-wall separating nave and transept and we secured it to a wall sconce. Everyone wouldn't fit there for the actual dinner but we would collect them here when it was time for Smythe to make his appearance.

I set up the webcam and turned it all on then attached to the restaurant's WiFi. Given the number of people and the shape of the room I'd dug up a wide-angle webcam from my office so we could get everyone in and an omnidirectional mic which I could sync to auto-mute when the other side was speaking through the telly speakers. We would be using Google Hangouts for the video. Another twinge of what my boss claimed to have gone through. Oh well. Modernity doesn't always suck. I found a random friend on Hangouts and asked him to connect which he did.

"Wow, nice place," he said looking at the restaurant tables, flowers amongst the glassware and place settings, "I'm jealous."

"It's hard work," I said, "but someone needs to do it."

"Cheers," he waved and disconnected. I blocked any incoming requests except from London.

"Ready," I told Yvonne and Kate, who were both now with the heavily tattooed chef-owner. I left them to finish their discussion and touched my pocket and went into the toilet on the hopeless mission of properly knotting my tie, an example disproving the 'practice makes perfect' adage.

Tie more or less on I walked up the stairs to the near aisle, so to speak, which was raised from the nave and lined with a metal railing and held the open fire pit that used solid logs, an asado they called it, next to a wood-charcoal-fired parilla and a your bog-standard bar. The fire pit was going with the still-cooking centrepieces of a whole suckling pig and a whole lamb. I knew they had vegetarian meals for a few of the folks, but I felt sorry for those benighted souls. There were 4 tables along the railing where you had views over the main dining room and the asado and parilla. The aroma was mouth-watering so I wandered to the bar and the bartender offered me a Quilmes, nice and cold.

A few minutes before seven the attendees began trickling in, to be welcomed by Yvonne. They were directed to the bar for a beer or house wine or cocktail.

About half past she directed folks to find their seats and "let's eat!" The four of us, Yvonne, me, Kate and Michael, had met at the owner's flagship restaurant and sampled a number of wines to choose four to offer with dinner, soft drinks for drivers and abstainers. For tonight the four of us had pride of place along the railing. The other raised tables had been assigned to her local award winners and their partners. The rest was a case of find a spot you like and grab it. I somewhat disappointingly nursed one glass, as did Yvonne, since we had 'work' to do. Kate followed suit which left Michael to keep up our table's pride in the drinking stakes and he was straining at it while the restaurant staff distributed steaming plates of incredible meats and vegetables.

My phone alarm vibrated at 8:15 and I stood up, Yvonne grabbed my arm and pulled me for a quick kiss, just touching lips and I went to the laptop. I sent an audio connection request.

"Greetings," I heard in my headphones in a cheery Punjab via South London accent, "Mr. Costa, so good to hear you again. Any plans to visit us again?"

"You too, Reginald," not his given name but one he adopted, "nothing personal, but going back to London not high on my list, at least not if Brexit is on the agenda. How are things on your end?"

"Good, enough," he paused a moment, I had a sense his smile went but then his voice had it again, "their graces will be in place at the appointed hour. Ready your end?"

A mordant chuckle. Some clicks and in the laptop window I saw the smiling face and orange turban I remembered from August.

"Here," he said, and I saw an empty conference room.

"Got it. I see it. Hold on, camera on... now. Coming through?"

"Whoa, nice place. Your lady friend doesn't skimp!"

"She has good taste," I said lightly.

"Except in men, obviously. I'm going to shut down the room, once they're in place I'll let you know," he told me as his his big smile reappeared.

I caught Yvonne's eyes across the room and gave her a thumbs up. I kept one earpiece on and slipped the other one off to allow me to monitor the telly speaker during the conference. Yvonne made an announcement to gather everyone into the nave and she stood at the front as people seated in the transept found places they could stand without blocking anyone. She caught my eye and nodded. I stood just under the low transept ceiling, in a darkish spot out of view of the camera but close to the equipment. Just in case.

"We're ready, turning my camera back on," I said into my mic and flipped the switch.

"Receiving," I heard in my ear, "in place here." I saw Smythe and a man and a woman I recognised in the laptop window, other senior execs. The woman was in her late 50s, brunette bob with some grey allowed in, pin-striped business suit visible seated at the table. I remembered her as Margaret from August, maybe a bit reserved but friendly and I smiled at a memory of an exchange Yvonne and I had after meeting her.