Marium Aasan Telecom Bitch Ch. 05

MARYUM AASAN, TELECOM BITCH – PART V – THE FOREIGNERS

I had come very close to being fired and, with my probationary period extended indefinitely, any further indiscretion would see me back at the mercy of my parents. It was critical that for the near future, I delivered on work above and beyond the call of duty. Rather than my usual 5-6 pm exit, I started to stay late an extra hour, often asking colleagues for a ride home and picking their brains. I made a strong note of toning down my office related sexual activity for a bit, after all Naila was always there to service my needs. While Haramoon was still an ally, his own position was even more tenuous. I had to find other senior level supporters. But, most immediately, I had to improve my standing in the eyes of the VP.

II

My opportunity for the latter came pretty soon. The VP’s anniversary rolled by and his wife came up from Lahore for the weekend. She had spent much of her life abroad, since their marriage, and was equally at home in local or Western attire. Just prior to 4 pm, she walked in to the office, dressed to kill in designer jeans, a frilly blouse which allowed some cleavage to show, snazzy heels and a leather jacket that framed her figure incredibly well, certainly not the kind of outfit you would ordinarily see in the country. Mr. Jameel took one look at his wife, decided he would finish things early and asked her to chat with the girls while he tidied up.

Sensing my opportunity, notably to score points with the boss, I waited for her to leave his office and repair to the conference room with Amber and Abida. “Sir, this is your first anniversary in Islamabad, why don’t you make it special?” I suggested. “I certainly hope it will be special,” he responded. “Sir, when one of my cousins had his anniversary, we decorated the whole house with flowers and made it appear like the first wedding night,” I explained, “I am sure your wife will like this sort of gesture.” The VP smiled, “it would be nice, but two problems, it will be costly and I have no time to be setting this up.” “Oh no, Sir,” I offered, “some of us were having a discussion and we would like to do this as an anniversary present to you.” “Okay Maryum, that would certainly be nice, what do you want me to do?” he asked. “Just leave us a key and beep my mobile before you leave for dinner; once we are done, I’ll beep you back and you can surprise your wife,” I took him through the process. Mr. Jameel kept a spare key in his office and was happy to hand it over to me.

Thinking fast, I had Imran, my on-again, off-again boyfriend, run over to the nearest bakery and get a suitable cake. By the time, Mr. Jameel was ready to take his wife home; I had an impromptu birthday party and all of the office folks already in the conference room. Needless to say, the VP and his wife were touched by my action and I scored significant points. Sensing that Mrs. Jameel was not taking kindly to Amber, who she thought was acting too friendly to her husband, I dropped a few hints about how Amber was usually lucky to get invited to join him for a meal, while the rest of us rarely had the opportunity. Mrs. Jameel soon built up a healthy distaste for Amber, all the time while my standing rose. I decided against saying anything bad about Abida as overkill was not needed at the time, in any case Amber was the bigger bee in my bonnet.

III

As planned, Imran and I went over to the VP’s house and did a slam bang job using flowers and tinsel to prepare a bridal chamber. We strategically spread rose petals all the way from the front door to the bedroom, suggesting a red carpet. The bedroom lights were disconnected or removed and we placed slow burn candles in many places, lighting them just as we were supposed to exit, having beeped the VP that we were done.

But the heady atmosphere was turning both of us on, and the lack of time meant that we would have to hurry to put the guest room to good use. Figuring that the couple would be at least thirty minutes away, we stripped out of our clothes quickly and jumped into the bed.

“We should have put some flowers and candles in here also,” Imran opined, and to be frank I had to agree with that. We began to kiss with gusto and soon I could feel a real moistening on my patch. Imran looked a bit lost and I inquired what was up. Apparently he could not locate the condoms I had advised him to carry. Figuring I may have one in my bag, I asked him to check there but to no avail.

“I wonder if Mr. Jameel has some in the bedroom,” he blurted out jumping out of bed, “let me go check.” I tried to pull him back but he was out of the guest room and into the master bedroom in no time. It took him a good five minutes to return, but the smile on his face meant that the search was a success. By this time, we had all but forgotten about the anniversary couple and momentarily Imran’s rubberized dick was buried in my pussy.

Just then we heard the front door swing open and Mr. and Mrs. Jameel walk in. The door to the guest room was closed, but the light was on and could be seen from under it. We froze in mid-fuck waiting for them to walk in on us. I could hardly breathe, though Imran’s dick was throbbing and bringing me close to release.

“Oh what a lovely job,” Mrs. Jameel exclaimed, “how did you manage?”

“It was Maryum’s idea, she has been trying to repair her image,” her husband responded, “and I must say I am impressed.”

Oh dear, I had succeeded in improving my standing and now it would all go to naught if he came into our room and saw the action going on. A small squeak left my lips and Imran quickly put his hand over my mouth. He had begun to sweat profusely too while waiting for the inevitable.

“I do need to thank her tomorrow,” she added, “or perhaps you would like to show her a nice time!” I could sense that she was ribbing him.

“Well do you want me to call her over for a three-way?” Mr. Jameel was giggling as he suggested something to his wife that I would have accepted immediately. “Now why in the world was Imran there, bad timing,” I figured, “this could have gone far!”

“Don’t you even think about it,” his wife warned him back, chuckling all the same, “let’s see if you can handle just me first!”

“I imagine you will like the bedroom even better than the lounge,” Mr. Jameel suggested, “but first, let’s get into the mood.”

I had pushed Imran away and, getting off the bed, had sided up close to the door. Imran followed me and we chanced a peek outside. Mr. Jameel was in the process of kissing and undressing his wife. While still standing in the main entrance lobby of the house, he undid and removed her blouse, tossing it onto a sofa. She sat down on an armchair and stuck a leg out to him. Not uttering a word, he undid her trousers and slowly pulled them off. Without an ounce of fat on her, she looked very tasty in a dark corset, slinky panty, lacy stockings and killer heels. She also had beautifully long legs and I was wondering if she would be bared totally while in our sights. I could audibly hear Imran’s heartbeat increasing as the drama unfolded. Mr. Jameel tossed off his shoes and began to undress, while his wife helped undo his belt. There was a squeal of protest when, after discarding his jacket, tie and trousers, he grasped her close and undid the clasps on the back of her corset while giving her a deep kiss. That piece of clothing soon dropped to the ground and his hands moved down to her panty. That was the only garment visibly covering the last vestige of her modesty, other than the stockings and heels still left on her body. Her back was well proportioned and we tensed, waiting for her to be totally nude. Instead of tackling the panty, Mr. Jameel lifted her up and put her over his shoulder. “Put me down,” his wife implored, but he insisted on carrying her into the bedroom, not allowing us to sight more than just the tops her boobs. For a second it looked like he would overbalance her and fall into the room we were in, but he righted himself by standing her up for a moment, alas with her back towards us, but allowing Imran and me a much closer view of her in near nakedness. Playfully he picked her up again and carried her into the main bedroom, unfortunately with her hands covering her breasts. An audible thump told us that they were both on the bed. We did not get to see them threadbare, but what we did see was marvelous.

“Let’s get out of here,” Imran suggested. I, however, had my hands on his cock, which had swollen significantly as he had watched Mrs. Jameel with lust in his eyes. I had to get him back on track. “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me now,” I ordered him instead, turned on by the happenings in the other room. He complied without a word, obviously motivated by the vision of the boss’s wife, and soon had a nice rhythm pounding my cunt. He tensed and came, but I pulled him closer till he brought me over the edge. I had one of the most satisfying climaxes I had ever experienced. Thankfully, Imran managed to stifle my moans with a pillow over my face; any louder and he would have needed to suffocate me.

Quickly dressing, without bothering to clean up, we turned off the light and opened the door slightly. Luckily Mr. Jameel had the bedroom door nearly shut and we were able to slip into the living room undetected. Their clothes were discarded all over the room; hers were exceedingly stylish, his businesslike. By the sounds coming from inside, we could tell they were definitely having a second honeymoon.

Rather than risk discovery, we surmised it was time to leave. Much against my inquisitive nature, I reluctantly willed myself against taking a peek inside the bedroom. The key was in the front door lock. As I opened the door it creaked rather loudly. “Did you hear that?” Mrs. Jameel hissed. It took him a bit of time to get up and check, allowing us to run out, closing the door behind ourselves. He turned the handle and was surprised to see that it opened. “Did I not lock the door?” he inquired of his wife. “Guess we were having a real good time and I forgot,” he surmised as he locked it finally.

Imran and I moved out from behind his car, right in front of the main gate. Not wanting to risk any more noise we had to go over the thankfully low boundary wall. Imran had parked in front of the neighbouring house and luckily Mr. Jameel had not noticed it. Needless to say we were glad to be out in time and with a meaningful sexual episode.

IV

Mr. Jameel was at his desk earlier than most of the staff the next day. I had wondered if he would be late given the tasty dish he was savouring after dinner the night before. However, there appeared to be a certain spring in his step, he smiled a lot more than usual and was chatty with many of the staff. As he came by my station, he unexpectedly gave me a tap on the shoulder, playfully rapped a knuckle on my head and tossed my hair, a series of actions that was certainly noted by the others around my workstation. I figured that I had done a fair bit towards redeeming myself in his eyes. It was important to keep things going in the right direction.

Mrs. Jameel was heading back to Lahore the same day, but stopped by for lunch at the office. She was dressed sharp as ever, this time in a designer shalwar kameez, but wore a distinctly tired look as if she did not get much sleep the night before. Imran, who saw her enter the premises, had a raging hard-on the minute he laid eyes on her. He had after all seen quite a bit of her just a few hours earlier and would replay that episode in his mind thousands of times.

“I am sure you looked really sensational last night,” I complimented Mrs. Jameel, not indicating how much of her I did see, “hope you enjoyed your anniversary.”

“Thank you so much for the lovely set up, it was a real nice surprise,” she professed.

“We have a lot of flowers at the house in Abbotabad and I am used to making things pretty with them, in fact next time please do come over to my home for a weekend,” I made an offer that suggested my sincerity. Looking out the side of my eyes, I noted Amber and Abida stiffen as I spoke and she appeared to accept in principle.

The girls were even more perturbed as on the way out after the team had joined the couple for lunch. Mrs. Jameel happily accepted a kiss on her cheek from me. “Actually Maryum,” she said, “you are the one that deserves one,” and moved to kiss my cheek. Thinking on instinct, I turned my head slightly and our lips connected. She did not realize I had moved and completed the kiss with an audible smooching sound before becoming aware that the situation was a bit changed. She froze for an instant, our lips still in contact, allowing me to return her kiss. However, nothing further was said as she stepped back, waved at me and went into the elevator. She did taste sweet, fresh and juicy, but I doubted that anything would transpire further with her. The moment, however, had been witnessed by many in the office, notably Amber and Abida; it had been a calculated gamble and seemed to be paying off well.

Mr. Jameel asked for the key back when he returned from lunch. I had foresightedly arranged for a duplicate. He had the habit of leaving for Lahore over the weekends and I figured his guest room would be a great place for my trysts.

“Thanks for everything Maryum,” he let me know, “it was a nice thing to do.”

“It was my pleasure, sir,” I replied in a barely disguised lascivious manner, “just let me know if you ever need anything done for you, and I’ll be happy to help,” sizing up to him, letting my breast rub his shoulder for an extended moment, mouthing a silent “Happy Anniversary” and planting a light kiss on his cheek. I pulled away slowly, accidentally-on-purpose letting my left hand brush across his crotch, lingering for just a moment longer than necessary. The VP was surprised, but did not react disapprovingly, instead he directed me out of the office, giving a slight tap on my rear as I left, a smile beginning to form on his lips.

IV

The much delayed privatization of the company finally moved forward. Shortly after the final agreements between the stakeholders, management control was turned over to the new investors, Idiotsalat, an Arabian Peninsula based telecom wannabe. Everyone at PT&WC was on the lookout for the new management, wondering whether their positions would be retained or lost. Mr. Jameel began to spend a great deal of time with the incumbent CEO and senior executives at the HQ. Soon a team of foreign advisors was attached to the existing divisions to monitor and understand the situation prior to a full scale management take over. The new management was a godsend for me, giving me a lease on life at the company.

Munafik Rafiq, the advisor assigned to the Commercial section and thereby the Sales team, was from Malaysia, but had been associated with Idiotsalat in the Arabian Gulf for about a dozen years. He was one of two persons who did not come from an Arab country, this indicated he was pretty good at his job; it also suggested that not being an Emirati he was not on the inside track with the new team. Still he was prone to throw his weight around. Most of the senior managers in the team were quite in awe of the person, the sole exception being Mr. Jameel who treated him with deference, but on an equal footing.

Attached to Munafik was a younger Arab named Ibtesim Qusummak but happy to be known as IQ. Apparently a couple of years in high school in the US had given him the reason to sound as American as possible, while still dressing in strict Arab garb. IQ was the guy sent by the Arabs to shadow Munafik and learn as quickly as possible.

Munafik quickly got down to business, running the department heads ragged with his demands for information. Mr. Jameel, however, appeared to be taking him in stride, and given his own penchant for factual information and relevant details, soon managed a good working relationship. It did help that after months of poor results, Mr. Jameel had turned the Wireless Division into a lean and mean machine that was delivering sizable volumes.

IQ, on the other hand, appeared more interested in the extra-curricular activity that may be on hand in Islamabad. He soon struck up a good rapport with some of the younger managers, and also was unusually friendly with the female staff, including myself. However, it did seem that he was watching for an okay from Munafik before he would take any real liberties.

One day they decided to conduct one-on-one sessions with the office people, with the meetings scheduled for 15 minutes per person. I was assigned a 6 pm slot and was planning to make a real impact. I had brought along a change of clothes and, prior to the meeting, put on tight jeans, a cleavage revealing top and smart heels, much the same outfit as when I had sorted Naseem out. Needless to say both guys appreciated this look as all the other girls had remained in local attire. The other office folk already had me tagged as the company whore and so were not too surprised at the way I was flaunting myself. Deliberately dropping my organizer as I walked in, I bent down so they caught a nice view of my braless boobs. It is likely they probably had serious hard-ons throughout our session. The meeting lasted nearly 45 minutes and, if they did not have other appointments, an invitation to dinner, and perhaps to a bedroom, would have certainly followed.

Mr. Jameel called me into his office the following Monday. “Maryum, you are being reassigned within the Commercial Section,” he advised.

“Why is that, sir?” I wondered, keeping in mind that I had been on his shit list for quite a while, though I had made efforts to patch up things recently.

“The Idiotsalat guys need an Executive Assistant,” he explained, “you were the person we agreed would fit the bill.”

“Really, they asked for me,” I was quite elated.

“Well, yes and no,” he responded, “one of them was keen on Amber, but I explained she was already assigned to me and would not like to move. The other guy liked you and we saw eye to eye.”

“Damn,” I thought, “that bitch has again managed to upstage me,” and that too without knowing she was putting me down! However, still I was the chosen one and was keen to get on with my new bosses.

VI

IQ was simply insatiable. By the second day working with them, I had his interest piqued. Time and again he found reason to be in close proximity to me and to touch my hand, waist or any other part he could manage. I kept his advances at bay for an additional day before deciding to give in rather than risk losing his favours to someone else. I had discovered that Munafik had actually picked me, while IQ had his heart set on Amber. Figuring that Munafik would be impressed by my hard work, I tended towards getting IQ on my side and Amber out of his mind through the use of my physical assets.

Now he had me bent over the armchair in his plush room, in one of the city’s finest hotels, stark naked except for heels and a leather female Bedouin head ornament that covered everything but my eyes. I guess he was fantasizing about fucking one of his back home girls as he incessantly pounded my ass. Although it was difficult to see or even breathe through the contraption, I found it strangely erotic and let him enjoy his fantasy as he liked.

Munafik and IQ had a meeting at the HQ and suggested I attend part of it. After an hour or so, IQ and I were excused as the senior team was moving on to more strategic matters. As it was almost lunch time, IQ suggested we go to a nice restaurant, one which just happened to be in the very hotel he was staying in. I followed him as we took an elevator up and moved down a corridor. “Do you mind if I drop my stuff in my room and pick something up?” he had politely asked and I agreed without a thought.