Face (Sex, Power, Love) Ch. 06

Eric: Secretaries

Eric could not have known how far he had fallen, why he had been cut from the herd, or the power of the forces that preyed upon him. He just did not have enough information. All he knew was that his life had been great, then the old man retired, his daughter Ashley took over the company, and everything fell apart. Eric thought he had been careful to play the new boss's game, to make a show of respect, but Ashley just didn't seem to like him. Unfortunately for Eric, no amount of brown nosing would have saved him. Eric had no clue. Ashley had special plans for him.

Eric thought it very odd that Ashley hired his secretary Shyanne away from him. Despite her natural talents, Shyanne had no resume at all. She was a high school dropout, and, other than working for Eric, her only experience was prostitution. Shyanne had no personal connections with anyone else in the firm. She was a whore with a lot to hide from the vanilla suburban types who populated the company. Shyanne and Eric were isolated and united against the world by personal preference and by their secret, unethical conduct. Shyanne was simply not at all the type a high class Ivy Leaguer like Ashley should want for her secretary.

When Ashley took Shyanne away, both Shyanne and Eric were disturbed. Shyanne wanted no part of the imperious Ashley and offered to quit, but Eric asked her to stay on to be his spy. Eric thought Shyanne might be able to break the ice for him with Ashley, and that she might provide intelligence about what was going on with that stuck up, superior bitch. That did not work out. Once Shyanne was working for Ashley, she operated just as she had for Eric. She was efficient, effective, conspiratorially quiet, and loyal to her new boss.

Eric knew something was wrong at work, but his crazy new sex life with Gina had made him more than a little addled. Eric simply could not focus on bureaucratic in-fighting when Gina was sending him off to the office each morning with pussy juice smeared all over his face.

A co-worker would say good morning and it was all that Eric could do to respond with a straight face—a straight face covered with pussy sap drying to a fine, translucent crust. Eric would respond, "Hey, good morning, babe. It's a great day out there isn't it?" He was thinking, "I hope she can't smell this stuff all over my face. Don't scratch your nose you idiot. Don't touch it; that would be too obvious. Don't draw attention to it. Gina was so wet this morning. She dripped all over me. Don't think about Gina; damn, you already have a hardon. I hope it doesn't show. Thank goodness for suit jackets. I hope Gina didn't drip on my tie. Is she looking my tie? What the hell is this woman saying to me?"

"A great day? It's raining cats and dogs. Eric, Eric honey, earth to Eric." All in all, Eric was floundering.

And so he lost Shyanne, his money making machine was falling apart, and his co-workers began thinking he was weird. So what? Eric was happy as a baby at his first birthday party. Ashley assigned Eric a newly hired secretary, the voluptuous Maria. She was just more syrupy icing on Eric's big sweet sex cake. But Maria was worse than useless at supporting Eric's nefarious sales methods. She was a giggling, blabbering airhead, but Eric still had the sense not to share anything with her about how he worked. Unfortunately, that left Eric with no support just when he needed it most. The few tasks Eric assigned to Maria she screwed up or ignored. There was little Eric could do about that. No amount of scolding could have made Maria more effective, and besides, she was Ashley's personal choice for Eric.

Not that Eric really cared. Plenty of money was still rolling in from earlier sales arrangements. Besides, the company was laden with people getting big bucks for doing nothing but pretending to work. Eric resigned himself to simply treading water, merely trying to survive by keeping his head down and above water at the same time.

Maria may have been useless in many ways, but she was a great show. She just loved her own tits, her big, sweet, giggly melons. Maria was hot, she knew she was hot, and knowing she was hot, made her hotter still. She would wear short, clinging dresses that rode up to her crotch as she sprawled back in her chair, legs crossed, phone propped up at her ear, obliviously chatting with friends and doing her nails while her pink panties peeked out under the hem of her dress. The next day she might wear high Cuban heals, a dress with deep cut cleavage, and a double duty push up bra thrusting forth an expanse of luscious, alluring, bulging skin. Her giant boobs would bounce and ripple as she rose from her chair to teeter off to her two-hour breaks from doing nothing. Eric didn't care; he just kicked back and enjoyed the show.

Maria took any occasion to swing her pendulous breasts in Eric's face. At any time she might walk into Eric's office unannounced; lean over his desk, cleavage plunging, breasts hanging heavy; lay some inconsequential memo down on Eric's desk just below her bobbling boobs; and purr, "Hey, boss have you seen this?"

Eric would stare into the dark trough between Maria's swinging, milky sacks and reply, "Yes, thank you for bring that to my attention Maria." Maria, bent at the waist, leaning across the desk, would take Eric's lust as a compliment (she just loved turning the guys on), and would thank him with a smile and a coy wiggle that sent ripples across the open expanse of her bosom. Then Maria would rise up, throw back her shoulders and thrust out her chest, thus sending her breasts heaving out toward Eric's ogling face. She would say something like, "Your welcome boss. I thought you needed to see that." As she walked out of Eric's office Maria would glance over her shoulder to be sure her show had had the desired effect. Each time Maria looked back, Eric would be sitting, staring at her undulating ass with a goofy grin on his face.

Eric had fucked every other girl in the office he thought worth fucking, but he didn't try to fuck Maria, though such a luscious new hire should have been a high priority work objective. That she was his direct subordinate didn't stop him; it could be finessed. It was not that he didn't think her hot or that she wouldn't have happily done him. Maria gave every signal that she wanted it. Even when Gina was wearing him out with sex, he still had cock enough for another girl, but something held him back. After Gina took to sending him off to work with an unsatisfied hardon, Eric still didn't make a move on Maria.

The dilemma was that Eric loved being pushed around by Gina, he loved being used, and he instinctively knew that fucking around would mar Gina's seductive, sedating spell. Being Gina's thing was a twenty four/seven obsession; it was like continuous sex. Eric discovered denying himself the pleasure of diving into Maria intensified the flavor of his capitulation to Gina. His frustrated desire for the sweet confection that was Maria infused his submission to Gina with willful sacrifice. Who needed desert when the main course was so fulfilling? Still, he enjoyed the Maria show. For Eric it was hardcore porn all night with Gina and a soft-core peep show all day with Maria.

Then the trap door opened. Maria buzzed Eric, startling him from a daydream about Gina. Maria told him that Ashley wanted to see him. Eric dutifully rose to Ashley's summons. He hid his erection under his suit jacket and apprehensively marched through the labyrinth of cubicles to his boss's office. Eric entered Ashley's outer office where Shyanne sat. He whispered, "Hey, Shyanne, what's up. What does she want?"

"I'm sorry, Eric, but I can't talk here. Besides, I really don't know anything. I'll call her. Ashley, Eric is here to see you."

"Thank you, Shyanne. Please ask him to wait." Shyanne motioned for Eric to sit, and went back to work, studiously avoiding Eric's presence.

Fifteen minutes later Eric said, "Do you think she has forgotten me? Maybe you should call her again."

"That would not be a good idea. She is not in a good mood today, so just be patient." Eric was never good at being patient, but he was trapped. He tried talking to Shyanne, but she just shushed him, saying she was busy. Eric sat, fidgeted, and finally sagged into sleepy sex fantasies. The tapping of Shyanne's keyboard lulled Eric to a stupor. The intercom startled the daydreamer. Business popped his pleasant bubble. "Send him in."

Shyanne ushered Eric into Ashley's office without making eye contact. She looked like she might cry.

This had been the old man's office, a place to receive praise, awards, and more money. It was completely changed. The golf trophies and the smell of cigars were gone. Maybe it was just the flowers, but even the air seemed feminized. The large suite was furnished with contemporary fine art, artsy primitive objects, and pricey good taste. On the wall behind Ashley's desk was a large oil painting that to Eric looked something like a Picasso. Eric hated modern art, if stuff a hundred years old could be called modern. There was just something nauseating about that pretentious, incomprehensible bullshit. The low lighting with accents on special pieces reminded Eric of a museum. There were a lot of tribal masks—scary, funny looking things. A small antique lamp (solid gold?) lit the surface of Ashley's desk in the darkened office. The room quietly exuded wealth. A weird elitism slithered in this nest.

Ashley didn't look up as Eric entered. She sat legs crossed pushed back from her desk, intently studying a folder and making notes. The slit in her calf length skirt rode up to mid thigh. Eric tried to avoid admiring Ashley's young legs. Otherwise Ashley's attire was austere, mannish, and all business. Wire rim glasses slumped down to the tip her pert nose. Ashley's pretty face was pale and sparsely made up, her lips thin and bloodless. Eric stood waiting for his young boss to concede his presence somehow. The large strange painting on the wall behind Ashley seemed to stare at him. Eric felt queasy.

After silently standing for several minutes Eric tried, "Good morning, Ashley." Except for a fleeting grimace of revulsion, Ashley still did not acknowledge her employee suspended before her pursuant to her summons. Eric waited.

Eventually Ashley removed her glasses and looked up. She didn't speak, but looked Eric up and down with apparent derision. At last she said, "I can't for the life me guess what makes you think it is appropriate to address your superior on a first name basis. I suppose this is yet another aspect of your sloppy, unprofessional conduct. However since this involves me personally, I take it personally. This is fair notice; your familiarity is unwanted. Don't repeat it. Now to the business at hand. I am busy so I will be brief. Shyanne, bring me Eric's file."

The intercom responded, "Yes, Ashley, right away." Eric was shaken by Ashley's open hostility and about the complaint of using her first name. From the mailroom on up everyone used first names. This phony familiarity had always been the corporate culture despite the strict caste system on anything that really mattered. Shyanne handed a folder to Ashley and left without looking at Eric. She seemed distraught. Eric attempted, "Miss Sanders, I'm sorry, but..."

"Be quiet. I have an important meeting in a few minutes and I don't have much time for you. However, I must inform you that it has come to my attention that there are substantial irregularities in your expense accounts going back many years. I hope this is just more sloppiness on your part and not something more serious. Take this file and make the appropriate corrections."

Eric's expense accounts hid all kinds of improprieties—cover-ups for the expense of whores and strippers, rooms for the entertainment, and petty bribes, everything a good defense salesman needed to do his job. But Eric had always gotten the old man's personal approval, bypassing the regular vetting of expense claims. The approval discussions had always been a great opportunity to share sales war stories with the old man. The old guy loved dirty jokes. Eric pleaded, "Miss Sanders, these expenses were directly approved by your father. He and I talked it over each time and he signed off."

"Eric, I don't approve of going outside of the standard approval process or of circumventing acceptable accounting practices. If my father, and I must tell you bringing up my family is personal and offensive yet again, but if my father and you had some sort arraignment, consider it retroactively revoked. Clean up this record and we will discuss what is allowable. I will try to be fair if you have been misled, but I must know the truth of the matter to make those decisions, and to repair any possible legal consequences to the company. Fix the record. That is all." Ashley pushed the file across the desk, picked up her phone, spun her chair away, and showed Eric her back.

Eric fumed as he retreated to his office. "Now what? There are tens of thousands of dollars in payments just to Shyanne hidden in there. I don't have any documentation; that would have been stupid. Doesn't that stuck up bitch have a clue about how this business works? I have made her family millions. Fuck." Eric was back at his desk fulminating and attempting to concoct a strategy to save his ass when Maria bubbled in unannounced. She smiled and shut the door. She was as sight to behold.

"Hi boss. I was wondering if you could help me. I've got a date tonight with a cool new guy I really like. He's real sophisticated, kind of like you, and I thought maybe you could help me make a good impression, you know, clue me in on what guys like you like. Ok? I had my hair done what do you think?"

Maria raised her arms and did a pirouette. As Maria spun, her heavy breasts lagged slightly behind the rest of her. Maria stopped and through up her arms in a Broadway showgirl pose. Her breasts kept swinging, slung to a limit almost tipping Maria over, swung back, and finally jiggled to a full stop.

Eric was speechless, "What do I think? Delightful, delicious. And what do sophisticated guys like? Those tits will do."

Maria stood in front of Eric's desk arms raised waiting for Eric to comment on her hair. Maria had long, thick black hair that looked great hanging straight and natural. But while Eric was dealing with Ashley, Maria had apparently gone out to a beauty shop and had her hair done in a rococo prom-like styling, pulled back and up and piled high with impossible extensions, curls, and synthetic locks falling down to her waist. It would have looked great at the academy awards, but it was ridiculous here in the office. Eric was dumb struck, both at Maria's sudden intimacy in asking for his fashion advice and by the sight of this giggly bimbo displaying herself in his office.

When Eric said nothing, Maria, near tears, cried, "You don't like it!"

"No, no, it's great. You just caught me by surprise. Please Maria; you're an absolutely beautiful girl. Any guy would fall for you. Really, and your hair is great. I was just surprised and didn't know what to say. Your hair is amazing, astonishing in fact."

Now Maria was beaming. "I hope so. You are so sophisticated, and all the girls like you. They all say you're the hottest guy in the office. Do you like the shoes?" Maria stepped one foot forward, pointing her toe. Today's fashion show was a tight short dress that clung to her hips and thighs showing every curve and bulge, even hinting at the cleft in her abundant, womanly mound. Maria stretched a leg forward exposing her plump thigh, pink retro hose, and still pinker garter belt. Maria turned her shoe from side to side. She was wearing ankle breaking, stiletto heeled slippers flashing with pink and blue sequins.

"Very nice."

"Do you like my ankle bracelet?" Maria jumped up to sit on the front edge of Eric's desk, crossed her legs and dangled her foot. Her short skirt rode high on her succulent thighs. "Come around and look. It's so pretty."

Eric checked to be sure the door was closed, rose from his chair, and when around his desk to look at the ankle bracelet. "Very pretty."

"Oh, you can't see it from there. Get closer."

Eric leaned a little closer. "Maria, it is very nice, but maybe we shouldn't be doing this here." Eric's cock was getting hard, despite his discomfort with examining his secretary's pretty foot, hot fetish slipper, and anklet right there in his office.

"Please, no one can see. The door's closed. Don't be such a spoilsport. This is fun. Please, read the insignia on my anklet. I think it is so cute."

A voice in Eric's head cried out, "Trap!" But a woozy rhapsody from his groin lustily sang, "Jump." Like a chivalrous knight in a fairy tale bowing to a princess, Eric sank to one knee as he courteously took Maria's foot in his hands. He caressed Maria's slipper. The twinkling pink and blue sequins dazzled. Eric bowed his head to examine Maria's anklet, a chain of linked gold-plated hearts. A bubble gum pink, heart-shaped charm hung from the chain. Eric leaned it closer; the insignia reminded Eric of a child's valentine. "It says, 'You are all mine.'"

"Don't you think that's the cutest thing? One more thing, the girls say that stockings and garters are sexier than panty hose. What do you think?" Maria uncrossed her legs and spread them. The Maria's dress rode up over the tops of her stockings. Eric dropped to both knees in front of his desk, looking directly into Maria's fleshy white thighs. She was not wearing panties. Deep in the shadowy cleft between Maria's plump thighs Eric could make out dense, curly, black hair. Eric smelled pussy. His mouth watered; restraint melted; common sense boiled away.

"Read what it says on the garter, boss." Maria's pussy smelled familiar and novel at once; how would it taste? Maria spread her legs wider, and scooted toward Eric's face. He was now between her knees. The warmth of Maria's thighs enveloped Eric; her musky odor drugged him. A command was embroidered in red script on the pink garter. He whispered, "It says 'Eat me. Eat me. Eat me.'"

A nebulous impression of a long lost wonderland wafted across Eric's cloudy mind.

Maria lifted one leg up to the side propping a heel up on the edge of the desk and pushed her crotch still closer into Eric's face. As her legs spread, her dress rode up, fully revealing the carefully trimmed thatch adorning her cunt. Maria's fingers reached down and spread her nether lips apart. Her slit opened like a pink flower before Eric's face. "So, go ahead boss, do what the sign says. Eat."

Control had blown away to a far horizon. Eric did what Gina had taught him so well. He leaned forward, slipped his face under the hem of Maria's dress, and wet the open lips of Maria's pussy with his tongue. With one long slow lick from hole to clit, Eric studied the taste of Maria. Hints of coffee and dark chocolate, floral overtones reminiscent of island breezes, a slight tang of urine—it was an epicurean delight. Maria sprawled back across Eric's desk. Eric dove into the trough, pressed his nose onto Maria's clit, and slipped his tongue into Maria's heating hole. Eric abandoned his post in defense social norms and charged, deploying all the tongue-fucking skills Gina had so carefully drilled into him.

Eric didn't hear his office door open. His tongue was deep in Maria's cunt, his attention deeper. Hot flesh tightly wrapped his head. Blood coursing through Maria's thighs throbbed in his ears. Eric was lost in his happy place. He happily swam in Maria's watery cave, when, as if from an impossibly distant surface, he heard the faint echo of a voice.

Eric thought, "Leave me be. I like it here. This pussy is sweet, what an alluring new flavor. Maria, am I doing it right? Let me pleasure you. Do you enjoy my tongue half as much as I adore serving your pussy? See how good I am; my Gina taught me all the secrets of pleasing women. My tongue is well trained and strong, isn't it sweet girl? You'll see; I can go on for hours. Gina's cunt sucker will amaze you."