Stocking Tops Pt. 05

"I wonder which of those messages is getting through," Lee said, sending a buzz through the auditorium.

He then related the story about when his daughter was three and a half-year-old, taking her to his office on Saturday morning and having her tutored in art and later to his horror hearing the teacher say Vicky no longer fitted in with the class.

"I'd gone too far and admitted this to the tutor who was a young mother herself and she understood and praised me for taking an intense interest in my child. You see, Vicky didn't want to be the best artist in the kindergarten. All she wanted was to lose her frustration of not being able to draw so that what she drew made sense to her...in others words, to meet her aspirations and satisfy her standards, although at that age she wouldn't understand that concept."

"Disclosures like that make my mind reel and give me clarity of vision."

That drew some applause.

"I'm now a popular guy with that pre-school facility. They have what they call a 'gala day' each year and usually raise from $1500 to $3000 dollars with cake stalls, a Punch and Judy show and the Grand Tricycle Circuit in which the little kids are sponsored and earn two bucks for each circuit they compete. Great fun and great to see parents coaxing their kids to keep on going and the kids responding. Three months ago Vicky brought home a note from that same teacher who'd sympathized with me about pushing Vicky too far, too quickly with her drawing. Lee turned to the screen.

The letter from the tutor read:

'Dear Vicky's Daddy

A professionally designed poster from your Advertising Agency for Gala Day please.

Your innovative support will earn you a kiss at the Kissing Booth.

Mrs Bond.'

Lee's poster appeared on screen:

'Bring your junk for sale at the Blewitt Street Kindy Gala Day on Saturday March 30. Then watch other people buy your junk as if buying heirlooms. You'll be amazed. Guys of all ages shave as a Kissing Booth is there for your convenience. Don't forget the mouthwash.

Our kids need local support. Got that?'

"Well, the kindy committee didn't like the word kindergarten being shortened or children being called kids and the illustration of an old toilet bowl. But my fiery pal Mrs Bond who has red hair, apparently told the committee this was the 21st Century, Australians were probably the worst country in the world at shortening names and she understood junk sales were quite effective, and Vicky's dad had said he'd pay to have unsold junk dumped, so there."

"Distribution of the poster, unchanged, was approved. We raised just over $11,000."

"Keep it simply, be innovative. Is my message getting through?"

"Right on Aussie," someone shouted.

"The sales manager of a company until then not a client of ours of ours and a father at Vicky's kindy -- oh, she shortened her own name of Victoria so we let it be -- called on me at the office. The company had a warehouse full of women's dresses, imported in cheap from overseas but the company then found the cut was too large for Australian women who tend to have large busts and, in the main, normal size bums. I thought moving a few dresses should be too much of a problem and asked how many units?"

"Arnold replied, 'Two hundred thousand. Our buyer, no longer employed by us, thought she would be making a killing for us.' Arnold offered me a budget of $20,000. I shook my head and say no, I wanted $180,000 as it had to be done properly to be successful."

"Arnold fainted, well almost and said he'd have to seek approval and would call me back. I never expected to get that call but did. Authorization to spend $180,000 was on the way by courier. I thought, oh crap; what now?"

"I had the authorization stuck on the wall in front of me and for two days looked at it -- not all the time of course because I completed the drink coffee go for a pee cycle. Then Mandy came in to ask if she could shorten her working day to 10:00 to 3:00. Mandy is a great toiler and was then very pregnant. She was puffing and I said her dress was too tight and hello, the creative alarm in my head went off. I emailed Admin that Mandy was authorized to work those reduced hours with no change in pay and I told her to take the next day off on pay to buy better fitting maternity wear. As she left I yelled to our best copy writer, "Shirley, get your butt in here!"

"Shirley is almost fifty and loves the attention I give her. She's been through two husbands and misses their abuse so I'm the substitute. People say I'm not PC but I haven't a clue what they are talking about. I also lie a lot."

Lee turned to the screen and said he'd briefed Shirley about keeping it very simple and explained the company had warehouses in Sydney, Brisbane, Canberra, Melbourne, Adelaide and Perth.

The half-page vertical newspaper ad showed a glamorous model four months into pregnancy wearing one of the dresses. She looked stunning.

'Warehouse Clearance of High Fashion

Great variety of European Dresses styled for early pregnancy.

The client said eighty bucks, the smart-ass advertising agent said forty and they'd sell quicker than baby's delivery.

Rush to one of the warehouses listed below.

Mothers waiting to become grandma: buy a couple now and cross fingers.

$40 cash only.'

"Arnold the sale manager called to say out draft ad was rejected. The warehouses weren't set up as trading centers. I said did he want me to organize that for them or was the company interested enough in clearing that stock and would adjust to suit? He called back and said go ahead."

"Inside two weeks the tills had rattled up sales in excess of seven and a half million dollars. We kept it simple, sold the concept through the great-looking model and Australia had never seen a promotion like this before. All the good elements eh? End of that story."

"I wind up my message about keeping it focused and simple with this currently running campaign of two Merino rams called Herbert and Cecil, old fashion names of long-gone popularity, but they are now household names throughout Australia thanks to our campaign to sell product for Adelaide-based Grasslands Licensed Livestock Remedies."

Turning to the screen Lee said, "This is the company's managing director. She's now a pal of mine because I've helped push her company's sales through the roof. Incidentally note the big boobs and small bum, a characteristic of many Australian younger women."

'Hi, I'm Melba Stolt, managing director of Grasslands Licensed Livestock Remedies in Adelaide, Australia. This is an endorsement of the charming Mr Lee Peach for presentation during his address to the advertising fraternity in Salt Lake City. I emphasize I'm not under duress to appear on this clip. Lee arrived on my doorstep after hearing we'd just fired out multinational ad agency that probably spends more on toilet paper for it's staff than is the annual net income for Lee and James' agency. Lee wooed me, in the business sense, so I invited him to pitch. Everything about their pitch seemed so wrong -- it wasn't about farming, it was theatre. I called my chairman, my dad, who was touring in Europe. He said I'd fucked up with two major advertising companies so why not give the little fellow a go. At least the approach appeared original and I was not to forget Aussie farmers like humor, particularly dry humor. So I went ahead and as successfully business firms love saying, our sales have gone through the roof. Sales are up 367% on the comparative figures for last year, a good year and the graph line is rising acutely. We have jumped from thirteenth to number three spot in companies selling animal remedies in Australia. That's all I need to say. Bye, have a good convention and please be kind to our golden boy."

As the image of Melba, brushing away flies from her face faded, the auditorium boomed with applause.

"How the hell do you get a client to love you," a woman yelled.

"Surprise. It never fails," Lee said.

"So here's the story about two rams. They appear on TV, in newspapers and magazines but not radio, in promoting sales for Grasslands Licensed Livestock Remedies."

The original ad was screened along with the follow-up ad and then:

"We ran into a bit of strife with the Advertising Standards authority following complaints from our competitors with this latest ad but we convinced them that even a koala bear or a kangaroo knows that sheep are not cattle. Here were go..."

The television ad showed a grazier (rancher) having rams unloaded at a bull fair (sale).

Two rams, one wearing a nametag of Cecil and the other Herbert, watched the very robust sheep being unloaded into cattle pens.

Herbert: Doesn't that drongo grazier know sheep are not cattle?

Cecil: He had no option. The stock is doing so well on Grasslands Licensed Livestock Remedies that they step over the sheep pens.

Herbert: You're kidding.

Cecil: Yeah, right mate.

The camera switches on to two couples nearby. One elderly farmer leaning against his battered pickup with his elderly wife beside him says, "You appear to be doing all right Bill."

The camera switches to Bill, of similar age, who is leaning against a shiny new pick-up with his partner, a busty woman of about thirty who is leaning against Bill, stroking his cheek. "I'm swimming in money mate. Herbert and Cecil over there are producing progeny worth a fortune because of above average size and conformation. Using Grasslands Licensed Livestock Remedies gives you all this and more, mate. Rosie here told me this morning she'd pregnant, grinned the eighty-year-old with several teeth missing.

Cecil: I wish Bill wouldn't give out his big secret.

Herbert: Personally I don't give a [bleep] mate; too many of the neighbors are borrowing us to land on their ewes. It's wearing out my pencil. All smart farmers should be changing to Grasslands Licensed Livestock Remedies.'

Lee said, "Well, that's it folk. Keep it focused, keep it simple and remember viewers and readers seem to respond well to humor."

Lee was thanked by Hal.

Hal said, "My wife Frances and I visited Sydney earlier this year where I spoke at the annual advertising awards dinner. I can tell you, it's bottom of the barrel with these guys. Lee and his pal operate from a former warehouse and it's no frills - rickety stairs, widows that won't close and air-con units poked through the walls and a bit of paint slapped here and there. But the electronics are state of the art and bums sit on the chair of the occupant's choice and most people fetch their own coffee and decided what hours they work, which is plenty sometimes when they have to meet deadlines with no extra assistance, because that how things work. A couple of local drunks come in Fridays and join the crew for free beers and other people in the building or across the street drop in because the drinks are free and the Friday afternoon is loud and robust and if the partners have had a good haul of paid accounts that week they take everyone who's there on Friday evening out for a cheap meal. Far from the Ivory Towers of Advertising they are and they find clients who are very comfortable with that. What's more, I reckon their output is huge and makes my outfit look as if we work sitting on one hand. They compete for awards against the big boys, the multinationals, and they walk away with awards. What more can I say than Lee Peach, please don't try to kick my stocking tops if you wish to continue living. Thanks pal, you've delivered some hot stuff here today."

After the applause died and people stood and stretched, waiting for the next speaker, Lee jumped off the stage and held out his hand. Wendy moved quickly from her seat to take his hand and they walked out amid people congratulating Lee.

"You were amazing, simply amazing," Wendy said. "Dad told mom and me he fought strenuously against a desire within his committee to write asking you to change to another topic. He said there would now be some very red faces of those on the committee who thought they knew best."

"I'm glad you told me that. I won't say anything, I just slap him on the back and walk away and he'd think he knows what that's about and has a loud-mouth daughter, as if he didn't know that already."

"Gosh you are rude. You look tired -- come on I'm taking you up for a rest in bed."

" Stop it, Lee, that's a disgusting leer. Lay one finger on me and I'm out of here."

Wendy turned back the bed for him and put a bottle of chilled water and a glass on the bedside table. She then called through the bathroom door -- "I'm off to catch up with mom."

"Come and have a shower with me."

"Lee!"

"Come on, I promise not to bite."

There was no reply until, "Promise not to touch me?"

"Soaping you is okay, isn't it?"

"I suppose so. Turn you back -- I'm coming in."

"You are a very sinful young lady," Lee said, turning and grabbing her kissing her, ignoring her wild kicking and twisting until she calmed and began kissing and then their tongues touched.

"Oh God, is what I feel against my tummy what I think it is?"

"What do you think it is?"

He waited. "Come on, say it."

"The biggest erection I've ever felt against me."

"Ladies like surprises, don't they?"

Lee soaped her and she soaped him, taking rather long with his erection. But it could be said the touching was neither urgent nor particularly erotic. They just stared at one another and drank in what they saw without exchanging a word.

Finally Lee said, "Let's go to bed."

"What for?"

"Let's lay on the top and have a glass of wine."

"This is dangerous territory for me Lee."

"I know but trust me. I'm not going to fuck you until you ask me to lick your stocking stops and I want you to have one drink and think very hard about today. I don't want anything to happen until you are convinced that if it does you'll wake in the morning not feeling particularly guilty. I never commit adultery without going home with some residue of guilt. But I deal with it without pain. I have no wish to leave you tomorrow when I fly off, suffering guilt and pain."

As they sipped wine Wendy sighed and said there was something she wanted to tell Lee.

"Shoot."

"Last year I had sex with one of my brothers in law. The timing was so perfect, he was so lovely and my husband was away on a fishing trip. I welcomed him attempting to score with me and thought I was going to continue to say no but I just melted and helped push him in. I was sad. I had committed adultery and, as you said about yourself, I just dealt with it in my head and came out of it smiling."

"Thank you for sharing but Wendy, I still don't want you sleeping with me tonight unless it's what you really want to do."

"Okay, I'm off now to find mom. Please kiss me."

CHAPTER 5

Once inside the lounge Wendy let down her hair, pulled up her red gown and said, "Lick my stocking tops Lee."

Lee, about to toss his jacket on to a chair turned and almost ejaculated, catching the sight of Wendy's somewhat plumpish thighs tightly held in black nylon against the vivid red of her gown.

He advanced, growing at the back of his throat.

"Don't," Wendy said. "I'm already over-exited...Oooh, there I go," she said, frowning and flushing and shaking. "God, that's never happened to me before.

Lee found the scents of pussy almost intoxicating as he slipped on to his knees in front of her, dragging his chin over her belly and then over the very damp crotch of her panties. He played his fingers behind her knees and licked alternatively inside both legs, moving up towards the stocking tops.

"Oh god, oh god," Wendy whimpered as he licked wetly across her stocking tops and on to flesh, sniffing at pussy very deeply so she could hear.

"Oh god, oh god," she whimpered and jerked into another release. As Lee watched, almost too close to focus, the upper outline of dampness on her pink panties edged out a little more. He pulled aside the panties and had the material ripped from his hands as Wendy, panting, pulled the material even farther to the right to give him wide-open access as she spread her stance and bent her knees, pushing forward and taking two handfuls of his hair. Lee's eyes watered as he said huskily, "What a beautiful pussy,' and she yanked on his hair in ecstasy. Soldiering on he sank his tongue in deeply and mainly tasted honey.

Wendy began screaming, her clit jumped out of its hood, so he rushed her to the bed and sank into her, that act alone throttling her screams. She panted heavily, not far from having a gigantic release he thought, so he cracked into her like an out-of-control piston. He watched her eyes turn up and she breathed raggedly, mouth wide open and her body began slamming back at him. She yelled hugely and then fainted.

They rested and went twice more and fell asleep. In the morning she kissed him deeply but held his hands tightly. "No, big boy. I have no wish to send you home to your wife depleted."

In Los Angeles waiting for the late night flight to Sydney, Lee struggled to ease the images of Wendy from his mind. The sight of her distraught at the airport, being held by her parents, was something he'd probably never forget. For a fleeting moment he'd thought there was justification in a guy having two wives, his choice being Claire and Wendy.

He saw an advanced learning computer suitable for kids six to nine years of age, knowing his almost five-year-old thought like a six or seven-year old so he purchased it. Through a mix of guilt and love he purchased a diamond necklace for Claire, although heavily discounted, pushed him into rather tight financial constraints. Well, that was incentive to go out and find a client with big money to spend.

* * *

At the airport terrible guilt temporarily ripped through Lee as he saw his beautiful and pregnant wife Claire push their darling daughter under the containment rope to allow Vicky to run to her daddy. Claire accepted Vicky was daddy's girl but knew that in time that wheel would turn. A couple of days earlier she'd had a scan and daddy was about to be told the new arrival required a boy's name. There would be a fight over the names, for sure, but no way would she have been happy had she married a yes-dear man. The day was hot, she was hot but determinedly she'd worn stockings and a garter belt. What she really needed was a very good licking.

"Hi darling," she said, kissing him and then nibbling his ear. "Who do you fuck while your were away?"

"Just one of the hostesses."

"Good boy. Had you said no one I'd known, you were lying. I hope I never grow out of the desire to be shafted by you darling. Let's hurry home. The kid's programs will be on TV for Vicky to watch. Mrs Bond at the kindy said Vicky has been tested and has a reading age of eight. The cheeky bitch said it was obvious Vicky took after her father. What's this I feel in your inside jacket pocket?"

"Diamonds."

"Ha, when have you ever bought me diamonds?"

"You could be surprised."

"There you go again darling on that peculiar notion of yours that women love being surprised. I'm telling you that's bullshit."

"Daddy?"

"Yes my little angel?"

"How can I tell that you really are my daddy?"

"Honey," said Claire. "Only his child aged only just five years would be capable of asking a question like that. Believe me."

THE END