Winner Takes All

Alice was late for her job interview. Her alarm clock hadn't gone off, and here she was, in an elevator dragging a comb through her tangled brown hair. She hadn't even had time to shower, so grabbed a small bottle of perfume from her purse and unbuttoned her blouse. She gave herself a couple of quick sprays to freshen up, realising it might have been a good idea to have worn a bra. Just her luck the interview panel would include some dried up old grandma. She was so busy trying not to get any perfume on her shirt, she didn't hear the doors open, and the man waiting to enter the lift had a few moments to observe her ablutions.

"Need some help?"

The tall, well built man in jeans and a dark green t-shirt stood observing her state of undress with unashamed interest. He looked to be in his early fifties, a short salt and pepper beard, hair a similar colour. His deep voice resonated through the elevator and she jumped, her blouse falling open. She hurriedly snatched at the shirt, buttoning it quickly.

"Pervert," she thought, noticing the amused grin on his face.

"Sorry-I'm running late for an appointment," she said quickly, tucking in her shirt.

"Then I won't delay you any further," he said pleasantly and stepped into the lift. The doors closed behind him and Alice noticed he still had a big grin on his face.

They stood facing the doors together as she made one last check of her outfit.

"Important appointment, I take it?" he asked.

"Very. A job interview, here at the Arts Centre. I'm not usually as disorganised as this," she explained.

"I understand completely, I'm running a little late myself." he glanced in her direction, and seemed a little disappointed that she was now respectably dressed.

"Do you work here?" she asked.

"Yes, though only part time these days."

Maintenance and cleaning, that sort of thing, she guessed by his attire. He must be a bit older than he looked if he only had a part time job. You could see that he had been an attractive man in his younger days, one of those 'thirty years married' guys with four kids and fourteen grandchildren. She'd probably given the poor bastard the thrill of his week by flashing him. Idly, Alice wondered as she always did when she met a big, tall man, if his impressive size extended to every part of his anatomy?

"What do you think your chances are?" he asked, shaking her out of her thoughts.

"Pretty good I should think. It's an office manager's job, fairly boring sort of work, but a foot in the door as far as making useful contacts is concerned. It's really the kind of job I could do with my eyes closed, you know, spend most of the day on Ebay or Literotica and nobody would even notice." she joked.

He gave an amused chuckle and she smiled back.

She held out her hand "I'm Alice."

He took her hand in his, his large palm and long fingers enveloping her small hand completely. "And I'm ...Charlie."

"Well- good to meet you Charlie," she smiled back as the doors opened, and they both exited, heading in opposite directions.

"Good luck," he grinned, and she noticed him give her a final once over glance, his gaze coming back to rest firmly on her breasts.

"In your dreams, old man," she thought, scathingly, but gave him a cheery wave and hurried to the interview room.

She spent twenty minutes filling out various forms, and was ushered into a small side room. Two interview panel members were seated, a blonde woman with a permanently pained expression, and a tall thin man with Einstein hair. Alice introduced herself and began to answer their questions. She heard the door behind her open and a third person entered the room. She turned to smile at the last member of the panel as he sat and was shocked to see the tall man from the lift smiling back at her, his eyes twinkling. He was now dressed in a dark, well cut suit, and a pale gold tie.

"Oh god," she thought with horror. "What the hell did I say to him?"

Then a second thought, "Oh shit, he saw my tits!"

The other two panel members spoke first, asking questions that she was barely able to concentrate on, but she managed to trot out respectable responses. When it got to 'Charlie' or 'Charles Lawson' according to the nametag on the desk, he made her wait for what seemed an eternity while he noted something down.

Abruptly he asked, "So Ms Francis. Organisation. How are your skills in that department?"

"Org-organisation?" she stuttered.

"Yes- planning, timekeeping, that sort of thing."

She was almost sure she saw a twitch of amusement at the corners of his mouth.

"My organisational skills are usually exemplary, and on the odd occasion when I have a human failing in that area, I do everything I can to make up for it."

"I'm glad to hear it- I would demand nothing less."

"You should also know that we have a dress code, and expect staff to be attired..." he hesitated for effect, "appropriately."

He looked directly at her braless chest as he spoke.

"Of course," she said, her voice shaking slightly.

"You're computer literate, I take it?" he asked, a slight frown creasing his brow. "Familiar with all the usual applications? Word, Excel, how to use the internet?"

She could swear on the last word, there was a mocking tone in his voice.

"Yes, of course," she replied, coldly.

"Bastard!" Alice fumed. There was no doubt now he was teasing her.

This time he held her gaze for a few moments, flashing her a devilish smile

"Well, kiss this job goodbye," she thought.

"We do, of course, have a strict internet user policy. We wouldn't want anyone accessing anything too...exciting."

He was grinning directly at her now and she could feel the heat of her embarrassment turning her face a deep shade of lobster.

"Well', he said "I think we have all the information we need to make a decision. Thank you, Miss Francis, we'll be in touch."

He looked down at his paper again, making notes. She had been 'dismissed'. She thanked the other panel members and strode from the room, holding her head high despite the heavy disappointment in her stomach.

"Their loss," she mumbled as she punched the elevator button.

But all the way home she berated herself for her uncharacteristic lateness, disorganisation and frankly, big mouth. She was just coming in the door when her cell phone rang, the 'Thunderbirds' theme blasting her out of her depression.

"Hello?"

"Miss Francis?"

There it was again, that deep voice, that almost mocking tone.

"Mr. Lawson," she said, forcing her voice to be calm and steady, while bracing herself for the inevitable rejection.

"Please, it's Charles. On behalf of the panel I'm pleased to be able to offer you the position with us. Congratulations."

She sucked in her breath and exclaimed,"Really? Are you sure?"

She immediately cursed herself for sounding so grateful.

His deep chuckle rumbled down the phone.

"Yes. I'm sure. My colleagues and I were most impressed with your qualifications and experience. Your interview was also...memorable."

"Thank you," she said, relief flooding over her.

Let the pompous ass be amused, she thought, I got the job!

"You're welcome. See you on Monday."

She spent her first week learning the ropes and meeting the rest of the staff. She had also managed to learn more about Charles, mostly from Anna, the cheerful young receptionist and font of all knowledge and gossip as far as the staff were concerned. Charles was 54, and only worked part time at the Arts Centre due to his commitments elsewhere, on the board of directors of several companies, and charitable organizations. He was divorced with two adult children and a gorgeous beachfront home. He's was also a very wealthy man, something of local celebrity and philanthropist. She saw him around the Centre over the next few weeks, always aware when his large imposing frame came into view. He dominated any room he was in the moment he appeared, and people flocked to get his attention. But he usually seemed to make the effort to wave or say hello to her as they passed, and when on occasion he didn't, she was surprised to find that it annoyed her.

Three weeks into the job, an expensive looking envelope arrived on Alice's desk. It was an invitation to Charles' 55th birthday party, to be held at an exclusive hotel. She felt flattered, and a twinge of triumph at his interest in her until she discovered several other colleagues had also been invited. Apparently he included the staff in his birthday celebrations every year.

Regardless, Alice was determined to make an impression and she scoured the city for the perfect 'knock 'em dead dress, finally settling on a scarlet red, plunging neckline number that showed off her curves.

On the night of the party, she arrived at the hotel ballroom over half an hour late, so she could be sure to have a decent audience as she made an entrance.

Alice took a deep breath and walked into the ballroom looking around at the humming crowd. A group of women in pastels and pearls looked disdainfully at her as she walked past. Suddenly her dress seemed too tight, too short, too low cut and too, too red. She had an uncharacteristic attack of self doubt- maybe she had overdone it?

A small group of people, including Charles, turned in her direction as her equally red stiletto heels drummed across the floor. Several of the men in the group stood open mouthed. One looked like he was actually drooling.

"Fuck it," she thought "Game on, girl."

"Good evening," she said, nodding to the group.

"Well, don't you look fantastic!" said Anna, looking her up and down with admiration.

"Thanks, you look pretty good yourself," Alice smiled gratefully.

She turned to face Charles.

"Happy Birthday," she said, struggling to keep her voice even, extending her hand. His blue eyes twinkled at her and swept quickly up and down her body, giving her the once over.

"I believe a kiss is traditional," he said.

She stepped toward him, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. Her lips brushed against him, and she felt the coarseness of his beard on her neck. He smelled of good soap, expensive cologne and a faint hint of cigars. Momentarily they looked into each others eyes and she saw the twinkle darken into something else.

She moved back but found her arm held at the wrist by Charles's strong grip.

"It's my party and the first dance with every woman belongs to me," he announced loudly, leading her to the dance floor.

"You look absolutely stunning," he said as they moved together.

"Thank you- you're very kind."

He gave her a pained look.

"Ah, kind, a word used to describe nice fatherly gentlemen, not to be regarded as potential suitors. So, Miss Francis, there must be some lucky man in the picture?"

"No," she said, 'No one in particular."

He looked at her quizzically.

"I find that hard to understand. There's no one who's captured your heart?"

"Captured? Never! I've met lots of men I could live with, but never one I couldn't live without."

He laughed, shaking his head and pulled her close against him, holding her firmly as they danced. She relaxed a little and nestled in slightly against his shoulder, the way his arms enfolded her body he was practically hugging her.

"Think of something interesting to say, dammit," she scolded herself.

"This music's ......nice."

"Nice? Nice!" he admonished in a mock serious tone.

"This is a masterpiece of the 18th Century. Do you know much about classical music?"

"Not much," she admitted. "Just what I've heard in elevators and on TV ads for cars."

"You have something of a history with elevators don't you?" he teased, and laughed as she glanced down at the floor, embarrassed at the memory of their first meeting.

"I think you need taking in hand where music is concerned, and I've decided to make it my special project to educate you. There's a concert next week here at the centre, and I need a companion."

Alice thought for a moment, and made a decision.

"Alright."

Why the hell not, she thought. Give this dirty old rich guy a thrill and have some fun. She pressed against him more closely and smiled to herself. Yes, she could definitely have some fun with Charles.

Alice spent several hours that Saturday afternoon trying on different outfits, as usual only to go back to the first one she had tried on. A simple fitting black skirt, with a soft white shirt, medium black heels and pearl jewelry. Classic and simple, nothing too tarty. Except...the clingy skirt did look so much better without underwear. Alice thought with a devilish smile, she'd have to figure out how to discreetly let Charles discover she wasn't wearing any.

She arrived at the theatre about five minutes late, and headed to the foyer. As she entered through the doors, she saw him standing by the chamber doors, with his back to her, talking to another man. Charles was in a dark navy suit, with a silver-grey tie. He glanced over in her direction, his eyes widened slightly and he broke into a huge grin.

"Hello there," she said.

"Well. Don't you look- deceptively conservative."

He smiled, taking her hand in his ushering her through the doors into the theatre.

There was a backlog of people trying to find their seats and at one point she was forced to move backwards, 'accidentally' straight into Charles, her rear end brushing against his hand. She pressed her body against him for a few moments and heard him breathe in sharply realising he must have felt her distinct lack of underwear. She grinned to herself.

"Two can play teasing games, my friend," Alice thought triumphantly.

During the performance, she could feel him glancing at her, so she returned his gaze, looking demurely up at him through her eyelashes.

He reached his hand across and rested it on her knee. As the concert progressed, she placed her purse on her lap, and discreetly slid his hand up her skirt, to the juncture of her thighs. She felt the tip of his long finger rub gently against the soft skin. Smiling broadly she looked over at him, spreading her legs a little further. His eyes were closed as he listened to the music, his finger gently stroking just millimeters away from her aching pussy. She closed her eyes, willing him to go just a little further, but he remained in control, teasing, tickling but not letting her have what she wanted. She was so wet now she knew she must be drenching the seat underneath her, but he steadfastly refused to move his finger any closer.

"Bastard!" she fumed.

She fought an urge to push herself forward. She wanted to win, to make him want to touch her.

The concert came to an end, and she opened eyes, watching him as he looked straight ahead at the orchestra, applauding with the rest of the audience. As they filed out of the theatre, her legs slightly shaky, the anticipation of sex making her thoughts a blur.

He leaned down, whispering close into her ear.

"Let's have a drink at a little bar I know, not far from here."

"Ok," she agreed reluctantly, a little miffed that he didn't seem in any hurry to take her home and tear her clothes off.

They walked to the bar, making small talk about the concert and people at work. The bar was dimly lit, with the last few stragglers of the evening as they ordered a glass of wine each, sitting opposite each other in a quiet corner.

"So," he asked suddenly, setting down his glass.

"Are you seduced?'

"Excuse me?" she choked on her wine, caught off guard.

"The concert. Did I convince you of the merits of 'real' music?"

"I'm prepared to concede that there may be more to this classical thing than I thought," she said smiling.

He punched the air with his fist- "Yes- another convert!"

"I didn't say that," she laughed. "I don't think one concert is going to convince me completely."

He looked at her for a moment, and said, "Well, in that case I think we should do this again."

"Alright", she agreed "But my kind of music this time. There's a jazz concert next week. I'll get tickets."

"You're on!" he grinned and held out hand to seal the deal. She slipped her small hand into his and felt her stomach tighten at the warmth of his touch.

They finished their drinks and he drove her home. They pulled up outside her apartment, and he got out and opened her door, walking her to her front doorstep.

She turned to face him at the top of the steps.

"Well thanks for a great night, I enjoyed myself."

"I could tell," he said, tracing across her lips with the same finger that had been stroking her in the theatre, his deep voice softening.

"Are you going to invite me in for 'coffee'?"

She looked up at him, his confident manner and almost arrogant smile suddenly irritating her.

"No, I don't think so. Goodnight then." She said quickly and stuck out her hand.

An amused grin crinkled the corners of his mouth, and he took her small hand in his, his long fingers enclosing hers. He brought her hand up to his lips and softly kissed it.

"Goodnight, dear lady, Sleep well."

She turned and quickly walked up the stairs, the butterflies still churning in her stomach. Once inside, Alice sat down on the bed, and cursed her stubbornness. Though she wanted to teach him a lesson, she was now regretting not inviting him in. Her pussy ached, and she grabbed her vibrator from the beside cabinet and held the throbbing device against her clit, then plunged it in and out of her dripping cunt, bringing herself to a quick orgasm, imagining the feel of his thick finger inside her.

A few nights later, they met at the jazz club. She wore jeans cut to fit, a tight white tee that hugged her figure and a black leather jacket, with black leather boots and silver jewelry.

She was there first this time, and was able to watch him for a few moments, until he spotted her waiting by the doors.

He wore well fitting jeans and a dark green tee with a brown leather coat. He looked like a casually dressed university professor, she thought. He wasn't what you'd call good looking, but his size and confidence definitely attracted women. She'd noticed them at work, fawning over him, hanging on his every word and laughing too loudly at his jokes. She'd also noticed how pissed off she felt when he laughed back at them.

"Hello again," he smile, and bent quickly to kiss her cheek.

They danced and sang along to the words every so often they caught each other's eye, and grinned. As they left the club in a crush of taxi-cab seeking people, he put an arm around her back, shepherding her to the safety of the clear sidewalk. She felt small tingles down her spine at his touch.

"Drink?" he asked cheerfully.

"Actually, no," she said, enjoying the look of sudden disappointment on his face. "How about ice cream instead?"

"I'm in!" he laughed.

They walked a couple of blocks to the ice cream parlour, and sat at the long counter.

"Could I have one triple scoop strawberry and two spoons please?" Alice asked the server. Charles nodded his approval.

The ice cream came, and they sat close together to eat, chatting about the concert and things in general.

A couple of times while she was talking she noticed he was looking at her thoughtfully, as if he was trying to make his mind up about something.

They finished the ice cream, and he drove her home again, once again finding themselves on her doorstep.

"Well thanks again, goodnight," she said, leaned in, intending to kiss him on the cheek. He moved, very slightly and her kiss landed firmly on his mouth. They stood there for a moment, eyes closed, breathing softly. She felt his lips against hers.

"Come on. Open your mouth. Kiss me properly. I know you want to!" she silently begged him.

She opened her eyes to find him looking at her with twinkling eyes.

"Coffee?" she said softly, pressing her breasts against his broad chest.