Family Business

Emma peered over Dan's shoulder at a computer screen containing the columns of numbers that would ultimately decide whether or not she would keep her job as a third grade teacher. The election results began trickling in a half hour after the polls closed. Now, in the depressing quietness of the Board of Education office two hours after the voting ended, it was becoming painfully obvious the school district levy was doomed for defeat.

In just her second year of teaching, Emma did not have nearly enough seniority to protect her from the massive cuts that were certain to happen. Friends and family warned her that no job was safe in the current economic conditions. But having grown up in times of prosperity, as part of a family that owned a large, successful trucking company, Emma was not used to suffering.

Her fingers involuntarily tightened on the shoulders of the assistant superintendent as the numbers got worse.

"Sorry, kid," Dan said compassionately. "Doesn't look good."

"I know," Emma answered. "I know."

The twenty four year old woman would be dearly missed by the people she worked with. Her fellow teachers—mostly female—would miss her outgoing personality and willingness to help anytime she was needed. Her male co-workers would miss one of the sexiest teachers ever hired by the district. She easily had the best combination of looks and personality among the classroom teachers. Known for her tomboyish playfulness, every guy who ever met her wanted her.

Part of her charm was the fact she was pretty without being unapproachable; she had a great body without flaunting it; and, she would flirt with anybody.

Emma normally wore her dark blonde hair in a ponytail, but not pulled off her forehead. The result was a windblown effect. Slightly disheveled. Exceedingly cute.

Her eyes were dark and penetrating. She had high cheekbones that went will with her full, curved lips, turned up at the ends in a permanent smile.

The election was Tuesday. On Friday, Emma received official notification her contract would not be renewed.

###

"Hi, Dad. How are you?" Emma said.

"I'm good Emma. How about you?"

Emma's father Tom lived on his cell phone as part of his job. About the only person he'd interrupt a call for was his daughter. Luckily, this time she called when he wasn't busy.

"Well, I've been better, Dad. They finally announced the cuts yesterday at school. I'm out of a job after this school year, I'm afraid."

The wavering in her voice was unmistakable.

Tom grimaced. "Oh, honey. I'm sorry. Is there anything I can do?"

Emma was convinced her father would not hear her cry. "I don't know. Any districts that would be hiring should be done by now. But I guess I'll put my resume in as many places as I can."

Tom hesitated, for which Emma was grateful. It allowed her to gain a little composure. Then he said, "I know we've talked about this before, and I don't want to sound patronizing, but you know I always have a slot waiting for you if you want it."

"I know, Dad," Emma said. "And I never wanted to take advantage of you. But if I don't have a job by mid-June, I might...well, I might take you up on that offer."

Tom knew it was difficult for his daughter to say that. She'd gone to college with a purpose—get a degree in education and teach. Not live off her father's success.

"Emma, I need an assistant fleet manager. Dwight would be a good guy to work for, I think, and I can probably come darn close to paying you what you make now," Tom said. "Please keep it in mind. OK, hon?"

"OK, Dad. Thanks. It's a relief to know something's there, but let me try to teach first. Deal?"

"Deal."

The next month for Emma consisted of wrapping things up at school and receiving thank-you letters from other districts for applying. But no job offers. So it was with great apprehension that she approached her father one day and finally agreed to join the trucking company.

"I have to tell you, Emma," he said. "You won't be dealing with the college-educated people you're used to. Some of these guys are rough. I wouldn't even want to mess with the few women I've got working there. Everyone will know you are my daughter. But that won't stop them. You have to make me a promise."

"What's that, Dad?" she asked.

"Anything bordering on harassment has to be reported. Immediately. Got it?"

"Yep."

"They aren't used to having anybody around that looks like you, hon. I expect some crude remarks, at the very least," he said. "Can you handle it?"

"You forgot that I took karate at school?" Emma asked, posing in a less then formidable defensive position with arms raised and feet spread.

Tom tried not to laugh. "Yeah. Try that one time and see what happens."

"I can handle it, Dad. Besides, I could use some sexual harassment."

Tom scowled at her. "That's not funny, Emma."

Emma poked her father in the ribs and they settled on a start date and starting salary.

###

It was no accident that Emma turned out to be a pretty young woman. Tom had the confident good looks of a Fortune 500 CEO, not just the president of a trucking company. His very light brown hair went well with his tanned complexion. At forty four, he still ran 5k races in times competitive with runners half his age.

He met Emma's mother, Jean, in college. Jean was the most beautiful non-cheerleader he knew. Her wild side, combined with short blonde hair and a marvelous body, made her irresistible. A year younger than Tom, Jean had been on the verge of social rebellion since junior high. Somehow, he managed to tame her...except in bed. They had Emma when Jean was nineteen, but survived and thrived through it all. To this day they were known to have sex anywhere, anytime.

Emma took on more of her father's business-like manner, but she still had enough of her mother in her to get into occasional trouble.

Her first couple months on the job were mainly trouble-free, with only the occasional rude remark or insinuation of what one of the drivers would like to do to her. It was summer and, despite the heat, Emma was careful not to wear anything too revealing. Nevertheless, it was impossible to hide the fact she had a faultless body and she got used to the gawking.

Emma did not work directly with her father on most days. So it was somewhat unusual when she got to work one day and Tom called her into his office. He didn't have to tell her to sit—she loved the old, saggy couch along the wall opposite his desk. The rest of the office was forgettable, with bookcases overstuffed with manuals, paper piled up in every corner, and his wooden desk all but covered with junk.

"What's up, Dad?"

Tom had a more serious look on his face than normal. "I got a call yesterday from a guy I've been trying to do a deal with for almost two years now," Tom said. "He owns a chain of furniture stores. Big ones. He's one of the few retailers actually expanding right now. His stuff is affordable, much cheaper than most places and people are starting to pay attention to that now, as you can imagine."

Emma nodded and allowed him to go on.

"He needs help with shipping. He's outgrown his own fleet so he finally called me and said, 'Let's talk.' I want you to go with me, Emma," Tom said.

"And do what?"

"I want you to go in your role as assistant fleet manager. You've been here long enough to explain our system by now, right?" Tom asked.

Emma's eyes widened, but answered, "Yeah. I guess. It's not rocket science."

Tom grinned. "Here's the catch, though. I think I know this guy well enough to know that if he knew you were my daughter he'd hold it against me in some way. On the other hand, I think he'd appreciate the fact I had a young woman in that role. My dealings with him in the past make me believe he'd listen to you. Alright, I'll be honest. I think he likes young women...a lot."

"How old is he?" Emma asked.

"Probably in his sixties. Maybe early sixties."

Emma looked surprised. "You want me to impress this dirty old man."

She said it with a straight face and Tom was concerned. "Emma, if you don't want to do this...."

Emma laughed. "Of course I'll do it...for you. I won't call you Dad. I won't call him Gramps. I just think it's highly unlikely he won't get the relationship."

"He'll never hear your last name," Tom assured her. "He won't care. And if you can answer one or two of his questions without my help he'll absolutely love you."

Emma thought for a second before saying what was on her mind, then said it anyway. "I won't have sex with him."

Tom laughed. "You two can work that out on your own. I want a signed contract. Period."

###

Walter Bryce lived through good times and bad in his sixty three years of existence. The considerable time he spent without money prepared him for the present—the good times. He earned his fortune through hard work, wise business decisions, good people, and a hard-headedness he was not ashamed of.

Walter did his own TV commercials because the old guy was more affable than any character actor they could find. People related to him.

His employees, on the other hand, may tell you about his strict adherence to policy. The first rule being: Walter's always right. He could be demanding, but never cruel. He rarely raised his voice, primarily because everybody followed the first rule.

Walter was country folk. Age brought its privileges. Men did the heavy work. Women were nice to have around.

The highest ranking woman in the Walter Bryce organizational chart was an accounting clerk. His philosophy was that unless she had experienced the exact same life he had, she couldn't understand. College degrees meant nothing to him.

It was this man Tom and Emma went to see about a contract.

In keeping with Walter's unconventional ways, his office was at the back of his largest store. Not in a separate building or rented space, but at the back of his largest store. At least Tom and Emma were greeted by a receptionist before being led back to the boss' office.

It was what Emma expected: a large, but not gigantic, workspace filled with the most expensive pieces he had for sale. Or perhaps out of stock merchandise that didn't make it to the wholesaler's. Walter, himself, sat behind a desk that had no relationship at all to the other furniture. Wall coverings consisted of nothing but pictures of Walter and apparently famous people on the golf course, or at a restaurant. Emma couldn't make any of them out from her seat on the couch.

Tom introduced her only as 'Emma, my assistant fleet manager'. Walter didn't ask questions, nor offer to shake her hand. She had promised herself not to be offended by him.

Emma wore a skirt and sweater, at her father's request. Tom didn't think Walter was ready for a young female to talk business to him in a modern business suit. The long, tan legs extending below her skirt as Emma sat on the couch was more the look Tom was after.

The conversation was social for the first five minutes, mainly between the two men. Then it turned to the business at hand.

"Tom, I need to move more furniture than I have trucks to do it," Walter said, leaning back in his rickety chair. "This is not the time to be incurring more debt. In fact, the banks laugh at me when I tell them how many trucks I need to buy. It's in my best interest to outsource this stuff."

"Volume is no problem for us, Walt. Give us a number and we'll make it work," Tom said confidently. "You won't get better rates from anybody else out there. And if the quantity is as high as you make it sound, we'll throw in some incentives that I can guarantee nobody else in the industry can match."

Walter glanced at Emma. "Is he lying to me, Emma?"

She was taken aback for an instant, certain she was out of the conversation. "No, sir," she replied. "First, that isn't how we do business. Secondly, we plan on being around for a while. If Tom says he'll do something over the long term, he'll do it. And you know the benefits of spreading the costs out over a longer term. You'd do it on this couch if I was a customer, right?"

She pounded the cushion with authority.

Walter gave her a long look, the grin on his face growing by the second. Then he glanced back at Tom. "Smart woman. You got a good one."

Tom knew his daughter was fuming inside at the connotation of Walter's comment. But her confident expression never changed.

"So, do you want to see a draft of my contract?" Tom asked the old man.

"Let's have a look," Walter said, his eyes bouncing back and forth from Tom to Emma, and Emma's legs.

Nearly half an hour passed while the men dissected every clause of the contract. Attorneys would eventually become involved, Emma assumed, but Walter truly did seem to understand the bulk of the content and asked relevant questions. This was no amateur her father was dealing with.

At the end, Walter indicated his initial approval of the language.

"What would it take for you to sign this, Walter?" Tom asked, sounding a little too much like a car salesman for Emma's taste.

Walter leaned forward and folded his hands on top of the desk. His eyes were squarely planted on Emma. After what seemed to her to be an eternity, Walter slowly pushed back his chair and stood. He walked in front of the desk more deliberately than his age alone would have dictated. Again, he stared at Emma.

"I assume you brought this pretty young thing to amuse me," Walter said. "Maybe even entertain me."

"Walter, that's not...," Tom began to say. He was silenced by a single raised hand by the old man.

"She's very beautiful. A man would willingly sign any contract to be with her," Walter continued. He sensed a growing tension in Emma's face. "Relax, Emma. Let me finish."

Walter approached the couch and lightly touched Emma's knee. She did not flinch.

"Sex has become a spectator sport for me, for the most part. I'm not a young man any more." Walter's hand slid up Emma's leg, but never reached the bottom of her skirt.

"But I still love women. I still love how they can please a man with their body and their hands...and their mouth." Walter squeezed Emma's leg one time and withdrew his hand.

"I'll make you an offer, Tom," Walter said, turning to the other man.

"What's that?"

"I'll sign your contract," Walter said, followed by a prolonged pause. "If you two have sex. The way a man and woman are supposed to have sex—slow and erotic. Let me watch."

It was impossible to distinguish which of the two was more shocked, Tom or Emma. Neither spoke for several seconds.

"But...we're...I mean we can't...," Tom stuttered.

"Isn't it great being the boss?" Walter asked. "You have total control over your employees. If I was your age...and Emma worked for me...well..."

"But this is different," Tom said.

"It's OK, Tom."

Both men spun their heads in Emma's direction.

"It's OK. The contract is too important," Emma said almost in a whisper.

"No, Emma. It's not right," Tom insisted. The look of anxiety on his face was one Emma had never seen before.

"Listen to her, Tom," Walter urged. "She wants it. Don't deny us both this pleasure. You'll regret it the rest of your life."

That was the point, Tom thought to himself. He'd regret it the rest of his life. Fucking his own daughter for the sake of a lousy contract.

"No," he said out loud.

"Yes," Emma rebutted while beginning to stand. She walked in front of her father. "I want you to do it."

Walter gazed at Tom with a look of total satisfaction. He held the trump card. His signature was the most valuable thing in the room.

"Well?" Walter asked Tom.

Before Tom could answer, Emma moved closer to him, leaned up and kissed him. It was a simple meeting of lips at first, but quickly became much more. While the kiss continued, Walter backed up to a nearby chair and sat down.

Emma knew she had to be the aggressor and could, at any minute, lose her father's involvement in Walter's demand. She had to take that chance. Emma stepped away from Tom and took hold of the bottom of her sweater. In one unhurried motion, she pulled the sweater over her head and took it off.

She now had the full, undivided attention of both men. The bra she wore under the v-neck sweater did little to hide Emma's generous breasts. Her skin was flawless, smooth and tan. The fullness of her breasts was evident with the nipples straining against the thin fabric. She allowed them to stare for a moment.

If Tom was going to stop her, it was going to be now, Emma determined. She reached for the skirt's zipper. Emma's and Tom's eyes met. He said nothing...and the only sound in the room was the zipper being pulled down. A second later, the skirt was on the floor and Emma was stepping out of it, along with her shoes.

Walter examined the young woman as if seeing a new lamp design for the first time. Emma's hair, full and wispy instead of in the normal ponytail, hung across her shoulders. Her back was straight and strong, accentuating her large breasts. Her tiny waist and flat stomach led down to curvy hips and a small, round ass. Emma's panties gave way to long, firm legs.

This was the sexiest woman Walter had seen half naked...ever. He never took his eyes off her and said, "Finish the job, Tom."

Emma's father was beyond the point of refusing. Anything he did now that wasn't what Walter wanted would end their relationship forever. But what about his relationship with Emma?

Tom moved forward and Emma turned her back to him. She faced Walter. Tom's hands trembled as he reached for the hook holding Emma's bra together. It sprung open and he held the two straps for a second. Finally, he pulled the bra off Emma's shoulders, down her arms and away from her body.

Walter grinned in what was becoming a familiar smile to Emma. He stared at her bare chest, then moved his eyes to her panties before once again looking at her breasts. When his eyes met Tom's, the next step was understood.

Tom put his thumbs inside the back of Emma's panties. The underwear slid down her legs as Tom kneeled behind her, carefully removing the panties from around her ankles.

Long before Tom could stand back up, Walter was surveying the thin patch of light brown hair surrounding Emma's pussy. It was neatly cut, shaven to fit inside a bikini whose outline could barely be seen on Emma's auburn body.

"Turn around, honey," Walter said. "Let Tom see you."

Emma rotated half way and faced her father. Tom struggled mightily to not look down, but the temptation was too great and he quickly scanned the front of her naked body. Walter made one cursory inspection of Emma's entire frame, then locked in on what he really wanted to see...her luscious, tight ass.

"Absolutely gorgeous. Magnificent," Walter exclaimed. "Now let's have some fun. Come here, Emma."

Happy to not have to deal with her Dad right away, Emma turned and walked over to Walter's chair.

"I may not be able to give you what you need, but I can still sample the wares," Walter said. "Sit on my lap."

Emma began to move so that she would be sitting sideways to him. Walter said, "No. No. Face me, honey. I want those tits facing me."

She straddled his legs and put her knees on the chair, gently settling her ass on top of Walter's legs. Instantly, his large hands were on her chest, caressing each breast tenderly. He pushed them up, squeezed his fingers tightly around each tit, them let them go.

Emma watched as Walter pulled her closer, intent on putting a tit inside his mouth. Her nipples were always sensitive, and when his tongue first contacted her right breast, Emma's entire body tightened.

"It's alright. I won't hurt you," Walter said. Immediately, he had his mouth around nearly all of her breast. He licked her and sucked on her tit, jabbing at the nipple with his tongue and otherwise beginning to drive Emma crazy. He no longer needed to pull her forward. Emma gladly pressed her tit farther into his mouth, as long as he continued to suck and bite on her nipple.