A Night to Remember Ch. 01

The elevator doors opened to the penthouse foyer. It was as big as Jack's living room at his home. Stepping out, he was greeted by an abstract sculpture of what appeared to be a man and woman entwined in love's embrace. It was only about two feet high, but it sat on a square marble pedestal that brought it to eye level; not surprising given his boss's reputation. Only two chairs, one on either side of the ornate double-door entrance, were the only other objects in the foyer.

As he approached the entrance, talking, laughing, music and other sounds wafted through the doors, all indicative of a party going on. It was the reason for Jack's visit, and he felt as out of place as this sculpture would be in a church. He had just been promoted to the position of Vice President of Accounting, and his boss, Peter, the owner of the company and host of this party, insisted he come to celebrate his advancement.

Jack was by no means a party animal, preferring to live a quiet life way out in the suburbs with his Susie homemaker wife, Sally. She, too, had encouraged him to attend, refusing to drive into town to join him because she was hosting a gathering of ladies from some neighborhood beautification committee, which was the real reason she didn't want him home. It seemed her life was all about home and neighborhood improvements and he was just in the way most of the time; not a very warm and loving marriage.

So, here he was.

As he raised his fist to knock on the door, it was suddenly opened by a beautiful black-haired woman in a matching cocktail dress that showed off her very large breasts. She was laughing drunkenly and wiggling to get free of a man who had his hands all over her, one lifting up her ultra short hem exposing a well-rounded, thonged ass cheek. The couple made it to the elevator, hit a button, and just as the doors closed, Jack saw the man paw her tits and mash his mouth to hers.

If he hadn't felt out of place before, he certainly did now.

With the entrance now open, Jack stepped in without waiting for someone to admit him. All he could see was a lot of people. All of the men were dressed in coats and ties, but the women . . . most were wearing cocktail dresses similar to the woman who had just nearly run him over; all very stylish and extremely revealing—as though it was a contest. This was way out of Jack's league. These were the in-crowd. So, what was he doing here?

Jack didn't know Peter very well. Prior to his promotion, he had been the assistant vice president of accounting, so all of the boss's contact with the accounting department had been through Jack's now-retired predecessor, the previous vice president. But Jack had heard that the boss was something of a playboy, lived in a fancy penthouse downtown, drove expensive cars, and basically just lived the good life. Now, Jack was witnessing first hand just how accurate was that hearsay.

Making his way into the cavernous living area, the source of the music was revealed as a jazz combo set up and playing in one corner. In the opposite corner was the bar, but Jack felt he should first seek and greet the boss before securing a scotch and water to get him through the evening. He wondered what the minimum amount of time was he could get away with staying.

Peter was sitting on the arm of an overstuffed easy chair, drink in one hand, which was occupied by a beautiful brunette with another low cut dress. He was obviously spying down her top. Her legs were crossed to reveal a generous amount of thigh. They were talking to a group of other men and women all similarly attired. As he approached, Jack noticed Peter's other hand was resting on the woman's shoulder lightly massaging her skin, occasionally slipping under the spaghetti strap. The woman didn't seem to mind, and Jack wondered if she was his wife. As far as he knew, Peter was married.

Jack maintained his position a couple of feet away so he wouldn't interrupt the conversation that was going on. A moment later, Peter turned and spotted Jack. He arose to greet his vice president with a warm handshake and smile.

"Glad you could make it, Jack."

"Thanks, but I feel a little out of place here."

"Oh, don't worry about it. You'll fit in just fine. Get yourself a drink and mingle." Peter leaned in, winked and whispered, "There are a quite a few attractive young ladies here for the taking."

Nervously, Jack mumbled, "Oh, I'm married. I couldn't—"

"So, am I. But no one will tell," Peter assured, patting Jack on the back.

"Oh, is that your wife?" he asked, nodding to the woman in the chair.

"No, no, she's around somewhere," Peter said with a wave of his hand in no particular direction. "You go enjoy yourself. We'll talk later."

Taking that as dismissal, Jack was only too happy to head for the bar. Along the way, there didn't appear to be too many "attractive young ladies here for the taking." It seemed they were all already taken. Every woman seemed to be paired with a man, many of whom were being quite friendly with their partner: hands strategically placed on female bodies, on shoulders, around waists hovering above asses, on legs if seated. He wondered how many of these lucky guys would get fucked tonight. Certainly not him. Not here, and definitely not at home.

Jack liked to look at women as much as the next guy. The problem was, when they heard he was an accountant, they automatically assumed he was the most boring person in the room. His wife even thought that about him. It made him wonder how they ever got together, or why they stayed married, except that he earned a respectable salary, which enabled her to engage in her pet projects. They rarely did anything together, except on those frequent occasions that they had friends over. Sally liked to entertain. He liked to have fun and could be a fun guy, but nobody gave him the chance. On one occasion, he'd even omitted any reference to his occupation, but nothing came of it, and he later learned it was because someone said he just looked like an accountant. Jack couldn't understand that. He didn't think he was bad looking. He only wore glasses while at work.

That was why on the rare occasions, such as this, that he attended a party or gathering, he simply staked out a place near the bar and watched the people—mostly the women. Such was the case tonight. Once he'd been served his scotch and water, he merely stepped aside. He had to admit that as much as he had dreaded coming to this party, there was the greatest concentration of hot women that he had ever before seen in one place at one time.

But before he could begin his scan, his eyes beheld a group of three women in the corner of the dining area, all blonde, all dressed to kill, except the one in the center seemed more elegant and refined than not only her two companions, but all of the women he had seen here so far. She was unquestionably the most beautiful woman here; she was without a doubt the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Jack was mesmerized. He could not tear his eyes away.

And in that, Jack noticed in her expression what he believed to be boredom. Well, he could certainly relate to that. If he hadn't had her to please his eyes he would be going out of his mind. Maybe she just wasn't interested in the discussion with the two other ladies.

A moment later, a young man approached the group. There was discussion, to which Jack's girl shook her head, as though not interested in what he was saying. One of the other girls was all smiles and nods, and finally, she got up and walked off with the guy.

The conversation between the remaining two ladies resumed, with the other doing most of the talking. Jack's girl merely nodded politely, but still appeared apathetic. Then, another man stepped up, more discussion, again Jack's girl shook her head, and this time, the other girl got up and left.

Finally, yet another man hovered in on Jack's girl, and like his predecessors, he struck out. Jack was certain they were bombarding her with clever one-liners, but she just wasn't having any of it. Maybe what she needed was someone more sedate; someone such as an accountant. Or was that way too far in the opposite direction. But even if he got that far, what was his plan? Just to talk? About what? It's not like he was the most clever person in the room.

Jack shook his head. He couldn't believe he was even entertaining such thoughts. He had never attempted to pick up a woman; didn't even know how. He glanced at her again. Still, what harm would there be in a little talk?

Gulping the remainder of his drink, Jack stepped over to the bar for a refill. While waiting, he glimpsed the bartender's name badge. Joe. Carrie's Party Planners. From this position, with the other people at the bar, he couldn't see the woman. With a full glass, he said, "Thanks, Joe," then moved out of the way, but when he glanced into the dining room, she was gone. Craning his neck to see the entrance, there was no indication that anyone had just departed. Maybe she just went to the ladies room.

Before he could go off and search, another attractive woman approached him. Although she was not wearing the requisite low-cut cocktail dress, her business suit did not stand in the way of showing her beauty.

"Jack?"

"Yes?"

"I'm Chelsea, Peter's executive assistant. Nice to meet you," she offered, extending her hand.

Jack had to shift his drink to shake her hand.

"Sorry, I missed you this afternoon, but I had to attend to this party."

"Okay," Jack answered hesitantly, not sure what was her purpose.

"I won't take up your time at the party, but you'll need to spend a few minutes tomorrow morning with me and Debi, Peter's other assistant, to go over some protocol. And you'll also need to visit Human Resources before the end of the day to sign your new contract and whatever else they might require."

"Oh, okay, sure," Jack agreed. "What time?"

Chelsea smirked. "You're a vice president now. The only thing that's not done at your convenience is something that needs to be at Peter's convenience. Debi and I and HR will work around your schedule."

With raised eyebrows to show he was impressed, Jack said, "Then I'll see you first thing."

"Very good. Enjoy the party." And with that, she pranced off.

The blonde had not returned to the dining room, nor did Jack see her anywhere else. He decided to roam around, maybe use the bathroom. Sally would have enjoyed this penthouse and its decor, although, he was glad she had not met him. He encountered a bathroom near the entrance.

Opening the door, which pulled outward, he was treated to the sight of a man sitting on the toilet seat, pants around his ankles. But he wasn't taking a dump because his cock was being assaulted by a woman on her knees, bent over, sliding her mouth up and down his hardened shaft. The man's head was thrown back against the toilet tank and his eyes were shut tight in ecstasy.

The woman looked up—the first of the two women to leave that was sitting with "his" girl—and saw Jack, smiled as best she could with her mouth stuffed, Then changed to a slow, sensuous tempo as though she was putting on a show for him. He watched her heavily painted red lips glide up and down the saliva glistening rod.

Jack felt his own penis start to respond, which didn't take much these days. He also felt awkward standing here watching, but somehow, he couldn't tear his eyes away, and he momentarily envisioned himself in the other man's position.

That is, until the man opened his eyes. "You mind?" the guy had the presence of mind to ask.

"That's what locks are for," Jack shot back, shaking the reverie from his head, then closed the door to the sound of a latch clicking.

Jack was somewhat in shock, although he shouldn't have been. He should have expected it with everything he'd seen so far at this party. But that feeling was eclipsed by the fact that he really had to use the bathroom by now. He entered a hallway, which he assumed led to bedrooms and, hopefully, another bathroom. He did pass a couple of bedrooms. In the first, to his surprise, the persons within were clothed and doing nothing but talking.

But in the second bedroom, he was treated to another steamy sex show. This being the penthouse, most of the outside walls were floor to ceiling windows. There was a nude couple; the woman was standing spread-eagled, hands braced against the glass, the man's left arm was around her waist holding her up. His right hand was grasping her right thigh and Jack could see his long, hard, glistening penis pistoning in and out of her dripping cunt. Jack's urge to urinate momentarily subsided as his cock grew down the side of his leg. In the window, he could see the reflection of the woman's face—the second of the two women to leave sitting with "his" girl. He had never seen such complete rapture before. A moment later, the couple's duet of moaning crescendoed as their orgasms consumed them. The man came inside the woman's pussy, and his continued thrusts forced his semen out and down her leg. This was more than Jack could take so he hurried on.

Finally, he found himself in what had to be the master bedroom, given its immense size and huge bed. There were actually two bathrooms—his and hers?—but the doors to both were closed. Just as he turned to leave, one door opened . . . and she emerged.

Jack froze, again forgetting how bad he had to take a leak. All he could do was stare in awe at her beauty. Then she smiled . . . and it was so breathtaking he damn near pissed on himself. Finally, to her questioning look, he managed to say, "I'm sorry. All of the other bathrooms were occupied."

"Did you check the one behind the kitchen?" She spoke with an accent, French, he thought.

"I didn't know there was one there. I, I've never been here before."

"No, I didn't think I recognized you when you were watching me from the bar."

Jack felt his face redden and get warm. He was also suddenly reminded how bad he needed to urinate, but it was too difficult to pull himself away. "I'm sorry. It's just that you're so, so . . . beautiful . . . I've never seen anyone so . . . uh, I'm sorry, do you come to these parties often." The incredible vision had him tongue-tied.

"Yes, I'm afraid so."

"You don't look like you're enjoying this one," Jack noted.

"Nor most of them."

Jack understood. Looking around, he said, "Yeah, if you're like me, you're way out of place here."

"Yes, I know what you mean. So, why did you come?"

He was amazed that she seemed in no hurry to leave. He was only too happy to continue talking with her, but he didn't know how long he could hold it in. "Peter . . . you know Peter? He's my boss. I was just promoted to Vice President of Ac . . . well, I just became a vice president. He insisted I come . . . by the way, my name is Jack," he said extending his hand.

"Catherine," she replied, accepting it.

"You're French." It was intended as a question, but didn't come out that way, so nervous was he.

"Yes, a lot of people notice that," she answered with another smile.

Sensing she was toying with him, Jack said, "I wasn't certain of the accent. I've never known a real French person. Do you work for Peter? He seems to employ a number of foreigners. One of his assistants, Debi, is British."

"No, I don't work for him."

Jack was running out of small talk, something he was not very good at anyway. And the fact that he had to go so bad wasn't helping his thought processes. "If you don't mind, I really have to go," he said, gesturing to the bathroom.

"Oh, please," Catherine said, stepping aside.

Rushing in, he forced himself to pee as fast as he could, hoping he could finish, wash and get out before she got too far. But to his utter astonishment, she was still in the same place when he returned. "I feel like a new man," he said with a chuckle.

Catherine's mouth again formed her bewitching smile. "You seem very genuine, Jack."

"Thank you. As I said, I don't fit in with these kinds of people. "Uh," he stammered, "present company excluded. But I must say, you don't seem to belong here either. I mean, I've heard Peter's parties get wild."

"Yes, they do," she confirmed. "It's still early yet."

"I don't know." Jack told her about the couple when he arrived. "And when I was looking for the bathroom, there was a couple in one and she was bl—, uh, she was—"

"Giving him a blow job?" Catherine finished for him.

He was shocked that such an elegant woman would say such a thing. "Yes. And in one of the spare bedrooms, they were doing it against the glass window!" Now, that he could think straight, Jack also noticed more about Catherine than he had before. Her beautiful face aside, she had perfectly round breasts that were just the right size for her average frame, not too big or too small. Her short dress hinted at a pair of the shapeliest legs. Even her feet were exquisite in sandal-type moderate height heels. He had noticed many women—even here tonight—who wore open shoes, beautiful women with the ugliest feet. But not Catherine; her entire body had that pampered look.

"As the evening wears on, I'm afraid you'll see more of that and many other things, some of which will be fairly blatant."

"Pardon me for asking, but what brings you to such a party, and then for so many times?"

"There was a time when they were fun and fresh. But it's gotten to be the same old people doing the same old things." Catherine shrugged, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. Her dress rose, substantiating Jack's belief about her legs. "I guess I keep hoping it will get back to the way it was. At least this time, there's you."

Jack hoped his expression didn't reveal the amazement he felt about her statement. And there was something about her that made him want to come clean with her. "Perhaps you haven't been able to tell, but I'm an accountant."

"No, I couldn't," Catherine responded, confused. "Why does that matter?"

"Most people find me the most boring person at a party."

"Because you are an accountant?"

"The profession has a reputation. People think it's boring work so the person who does it must also be boring. Haven't you heard any of the jokes? If an accountant's wife cannot sleep, what does she say? 'Darling, could you tell me about your work.' Or, what does an accountant use for birth control? His personality. And my personal favorite, a patient goes to her doctor for a complete physical exam. The doctor says, 'I have some very grave news for you. You only have six months to live.' The patient asks, 'Oh doctor, what should I do?' The doctor replies, 'Marry an accountant.' 'Will that make me live longer?' the patient asks. 'No,' the doctor says, 'but it will seem longer.'"

Catherine was actually laughing heartily. "I'm sorry, but those are funny. More importantly, I am not the least bit bored," Catherine revealed. "I have been enjoying our conversation. You are a very charming and handsome man. And funny."

So touched was Jack, he didn't know what to say. No one had ever said that about him. Absent-mindedly, he sipped his drink, which was now mostly melted ice.

"Looks like you're ready for a refill," Catherine noted.

Jack held up his glass as though he had to look at to know it was nearly empty. "Yes. Can I get you something?"

"Yes. But not here."

"What do you mean?"

"Let's go somewhere."

"You mean, like to a lounge?"

"That would be nice." She seemed to hesitate, and then added, "If you want to."

Shredding his accountant mentality, in which he had to analyze everything, Jack was so mesmerized by this beautiful woman that without thinking, he said, "Of course. I guess we should first tell Peter goodbye."