Beetlesmith's Ch. 17

She had been struggling through all this, but as I continued to tick off each of her likes and dislikes, she gradually stopped resisting and went limp against my hand.

As I continued to finger fuck her, I pressed a slickened thumb to her asshole, and said, "And I know you only like it in the ass when you're really hot, and only with a guy you know well. How well do you know me Peaches? Well enough to want me up the ass?"

She closed her eyes to the erotic bliss my fingers were instilling, and only shook her head in answer.

"Well we can change that. Would you like to know me better?"

She slowly nodded her head.

"Well, I like everything, Peaches. So let's go from there."

By this time she was so very close to coming. I could feel her arousal boiling just below the surface. Just a few more strokes with my fingers would set her off.

I stopped my finger play. Candice whined loudly in disappointment.

Standing in front of her again, I said, "You have your particular tastes and so do I. One of them is that I don't let bitches coming unless they do a better job at sucking my cock. Now, open your mouth wide...Wider!"

I slid in quickly, making her gag, but I didn't advance myself further until she fought off the reflex. I pushed in a little further, reinitiating her gag reflex. Coughing a large amount of saliva around my cock, it dripped thickly off her chin before it fell to the floor. She tried to back away as she continued to cough, but I grabbed her on either side of her head, just around her ears, and held her steady.

"Part of your problem is you're trying to suck. Don't suck when a guy is throating you, especially me. I'm too big for that. Just relax your jaw, open your mouth wide, and let me slide it in."

I pulled her closer to me by the hair, inching in further. When she stopped gagging this time, I began slowly pumping.

"That's it, baby, you got it. See how easy it is when you relax and let the guy fuck your mouth?"

It was right at that moment, when I had Candice's head tightly gripped between my two hands, sliding my cock as far down her throat as I dare go, that there was a sharp rap at my door.

For some inexplicable reason, instead of staying quiet, I answered, "I'm busy...," but before I could finish telling whoever it was to fuck off, the door burst open.

Beatrice Croynski—Beatrice the crone—stopped dead in her tracks. With her gaunt form frozen in the doorway, mouth agape, eyes bulging out of her head in shock—she looked every bit like a mercat, surprised by a hungry jackal.

I should have guessed she would be making a call on me sometime today, given what had happened earlier with Parker and Justin. As the top executive on the floor since taking over for Kendall, she would have had to come to me with her complaints about the junior executives, whether she talk with Jack first, or not. I kicked myself for being so careless with the door lock.

Seconds were ticking by and Beatrice had yet to say something, or even move. It would only be a matter of time before the rest of the staff looked past Beatrice and see me face-fucking Candice.

"Goddamn it, Beatrice," I said quietly, but forcefully, "You can come in and help me get this slut off, or take your bony ass out of here; either way, close the fucking door!"

Without saying anything, she quickly and quietly backed away, closing the door behind her.

On hearing Beatrice's name, Candice began choking on my cock out of shock and fear, and quickly backed away from me.

Well, you can kiss that blowjob goodbye, Henry.

She literally stood in the middle of the office, shivering.

After zipping myself up, I went over and wrapped my arms around her, hoping to comfort her.

When we touched, I understood why she was shivering. Two, diametrically opposed thoughts rattled around in her head, like two marbles ricocheting off a washing machine tub set on spin. On one hand, she desired to continue with what we started and taking things further by moving over to the couch. On the other hand, she feared for Beatrice's reprisals and for her job. On the other, although the damage may already be done, it would be better if she stopped and resume her post at her desk. Her shivering was just the physical manifestation of those two warring desires.

Finally, in a fit of rationalization that exceeded the talents of even the most incorrigible sophist, she said, "Maybe she didn't recognize me. I mean, my back was to her, so she really couldn't see my face. Who's to say who was in here with you? If it comes up, you could tell her it was your wife."

I joked, "Oh, I'm sure she thought you were my wife. Except for your flaming red hair, huge tits, and that beautifully pear-shaped ass of yours, you and Karen could be twins. Isn't denial the first stage of grief?"

Realizing the stupidity of her last statement, she started hitting the other four stages in rapid succession, "Shit! Why does this always happen to me? Every time I drop my guard I get fucked, first with Kendall and now you. That bitch is going to fire me, I know it. You will give me a good recommendation, won't you?"

"No one's going to fire you."

"Yes she is. You don't know her. She fired someone last year just because she was making personal phone calls on company time. What do you think she's going to do to someone caught blowing the boss at the office?"

"Trust me. I won't let it come to that. Now, I want you to pull your pants up, take a big girl pill, and take the rest of the day off."

"What if she..."

"Just do what I say. By the end of the day I'll have any problems squared away."

"Even if I'm not fired, she's still going to make life hell for me at the office..."

I kissed her deeply before she could go on, and pushed those feelings of bliss and tranquility into her.

I think I pushed a little too hard, because her fears were quickly replaced by those overriding feelings of arousal, even more intense than before. The smoky allure of unabashed sex flooded her mind. A mischievous gleam sparked from her eyes as she put her hand on my crotch.

Then, with the unmistakable tenor of little girl disappointment in her voice, she said, "Oh no fair, you put him away. Peaches so much wanted him to fill me with his yummy, hot cum."

Her little mock disappointment made me laugh. Taking her hand from my crotch, I kissed it, then her lips, before commanding, "Do as I say. It's best we don't do this at the office, anyway." On the back of one of my business cards, I wrote the address of the motel I was meeting Jackie and Cecilia later. Handing it to her, I continued, "I'm meeting a couple of friends there after work, why don't you stop by. I'm sure they'll love to meet you."

She didn't say anything, but I could tell she had qualms about doing group stuff, and even bigger qualms about what I might do if she declined my offer.

"No strings, Candice," I said, reassuringly, "Come by the motel or not, it's your choice. And whatever you decide, I'll see you tomorrow for work."

I didn't know whether she'd show up or not. I knew my mental abilities were getting acute, but I wasn't sure how long my commands would last throughout the day without me being in direct contact with the prey. This was going to be a good test of my powers, and either way, whether she showed or not, the invitation was flattering to her.

Just doing our part to bolster office morale.

********

It was the end of the workday, and most of the office executives and staff had left.

Given what had occurred earlier with Beatrice, I decided to hang around a bit and wait for that inevitable phone call or visit from Jack. I didn't think he was actually going to do anything drastic, but I was sure he would mention something about being more discreet with office affairs.

It was close to five-thirty and still no Jack. I started to pack my briefcase, thinking he either ignored Beatrice's complaint and wasn't going to bother me with the lecture, or was saving his perfunctory diatribe about my behavior for tomorrow. Either way, I felt I waited around long enough. I wanted to get over to the motel to meet Jackie, Cecilia, and hopefully Candice before they thought I blew them off.

I just about had things packed, when there was a hard rap at my office door.

Shit, too late.

"Come in, Jack."

I was still putting papers in my briefcase when I heard her voice, "No, not Mr. Avery."

Looking up, she was standing in the doorway in exactly the same manner as she had earlier, and still with that same, 'cat that swallowed the sour mouse,' look on her face.

"Ms. Croynski, what a pleasant surprise. I was expecting someone of higher authority to lay down the law for me."

"If you're implying I would rat you out to Mr. Avery, then you don't know me half as well as you think. I can handle my own problems."

Now that is a surprise.

"Really? What about that Tanner fellow? You had Jack fire him quick enough."

"That was different. He made unwanted advances on one of my girls. Whatever was going on in here earlier didn't look unwanted."

"Okay, so what can I do for you?"

"I did not appreciate the tone of voice you took with me earlier, nor do I condone your behavior with my gir...with my staff."

"You have every right to be angry, and I apologize on both those counts, Ms. Croynski. I can assure you, neither will happen again."

I thought my overt humility might appease her, but she continued to take a hard tack, "Mr. Henry, I have no say in what you senior executives do, but I will demand that you refrain from doing whatever it is you do with my secretarial staff at the office. It's not just the fraternization, although I would expect better from you as a married man, but it's also the ill feelings that would spread throughout the office staff if word of this would get out. And believe me, these types of things always become public..."

'Expect better from a married man'...'These things always become public'...Why you snotty, condescending, old bitch, was that a veiled threat you just made?

I interrupted her diatribe, "Ms. Croynski, I've always held you in the highest regard, but you had better clarify that last statement."

She either ignored my ire, or didn't recognize it, because she continued without missing a beat, "The feelings of unfair privilege and...how should I say it? And sexual nepotism granted to a few because they're sleeping with the boss, will only destroy office morale. If word of this got out, pretty soon half the secretaries will be banging the executives for raises and promotions, and the other half that wouldn't degrade themselves by sleeping around, would just stop working hard because what would be the point."

Banging the executives?

I was taken aback and more than little amused by her coarse language. She was right, I didn't know her as well as I thought.

I couldn't help but smile, and said, "You're mistaken if you believe what happened earlier was cash for gash."

"This isn't funny, Mr. Henry. What else am I supposed to think? I know about the raise you gave her."

"Now hold on a second. I gave her that raise on the first day I took over this department, because Kendall was grossly underpaying her, and you know that! I just brought her up to the same scale as every other office manager in the company. That was all."

She lowered her eyes to the floor in a show of humility at having been caught propagating a lie.

"Now, what you saw today was completely spontaneous, and had nothing to do with influencing office policy, politics, or garnering favoritism from me. And I can assure you, it won't happen again at the office."

"All right, Mr. Henry, if you say so. I was going to fire Miss Brody, but if what you say is true, I don't have to do anything so drastic. May I ask, are you going to...," she almost choked on the words, and continued in a more genteel direction, "Are you going to continue seeing her...Outside the office, then?"

"That's none of your business."

"Fair enough, Mr. Henry, but the logistics of the secretarial pool is. I think it best if you had a different office manager. I'll have Miss Brody transferred to a different department. Mrs. Stratford can take over here."

Goddamn this pedantic, officious bitch!

It would've been easier for me to agree to her demands. However, what Beatrice Croynski was demanding wasn't fair and it wasn't right, not to me and certainly not to Candice. As such, I felt obligated to stay as long as it took to straighten the old bitch out.

Holding my anger in check, I tried reasoning with her, "I think a sideways promotion for Candice is also pretty drastic. I don't see the need to have her transferred out..."

"I'm just trying to make sure that appearances remain professional on our floor. That, and making sure the other staff doesn't see your favoritism for your office manager; and it will become evident in time. You can't hide something like this for long. I don't need the added headache of a mutinous staff when they realize Miss Brody..."

"Is that all you're trying to do, 'keep up appearances?' Aren't you really just punishing the young woman for an error in moral judgment? An error I'm just as guilty of, if not more so?"

"No, Mr. Henry, I'm only thinking about the future morale of my staff," I must have given her a look that she perceived as disbelief, because she continued more forcefully, "Mr. Henry, please don't question my authority in this matter."

"I'm not questioning your authority, only your judgment."

"You think I'm being too harsh on Miss Brody?"

"I think you should trust me, and give her a second chance."

She stared at me for a long moment with only slightly subdued suspicion. Finally, she dropped the sourpuss look, and said, "Alright Mr. Henry, you, among all the other executives, have always treated me kindly and with a great deal of respect. I'll look the other way for now and allow Miss Brody to stay at her present station. But please, don't make a fool out of me and continue to flaunt your behavior at the office; and please, whatever you do, don't let the other staff find out."

I smiled, "Thank you, Ms. Croynski. And a word of advice: the next time you knock, wait for an answer before barging in. It will keep other embarrassments like the one earlier from happening."

Then, she did something totally out of character. She giggled.

"What's so funny?"

She giggled again, while saying, "Nothing, Mr. Henry."

"Okay, now you have to tell me."

"No I can't, Mr. Henry."

"Come on, Ms. Croynski, you would have to agree that after today, there are few secrets and even fewer surprises remaining between us."

She blushed before answering, "I just remembered the look on your face when I opened the door to your office..." She couldn't finish her thought. Instead, she broke out in unrestrained laughter.

I watched in amusement. With her hand politely covering her mouth, she continued to laugh wildly, and even though her mirth came at my expense, I didn't mind. I couldn't help but like her.

As her laughter died down, I said, "You are just full of surprises Ms. Croynski. You're not the hardened bi..." I stopped myself from going further, not wanting to ruin the good mood that had just been garnered between us.

"Bitch? Is that what you were going to say Mr. Henry?"

I nodded my head, reluctantly, "Yes, and please forgive my coarseness. I'm coming to realize you're not the hardened person everyone takes you for."

She was about to say something, but thought better of it. Instead, she lowered her eyes to the floor while crossing her arms in front of her. It was her typical defense posture, used, I suspect, to keep her from revealing too much of herself. It also had the effect of stifling the dialogue that almost caused her to slip up by revealing something of herself in the first place.

After staring at the floor for some time, she finally said, "Well, good night, Mr. Henry," and then turned to go.

I should have just taken my small victory and let her leave, but something about her and our whole conversation was nagging at me.

"Beatrice, before you go, there's a question that's always bothered me, and that maybe you can answer." My informality at using her first name put her off guard for a moment, and I continued before she could object to it, "I see it a lot, mostly in women such as yourself, highly intelligent and accomplished women who are at the top of their profession, but who, for some inexplicable reason, go out of their way to make themselves as unattractive as possible. It's as if you feel people won't take you seriously, or see your intelligence if you dress attractively."

"What do you mean?"

"That people still don't see your intelligence, or your accomplishments, or respect you the way you think they should. They still don't respect you for the consummate professional that you are. As you said earlier, I am one of the few in the company that does respect you for the work you do around here. In fact, I have to believe that if you had just a few more years of business schooling, you would be a top flight executive in your own right. But most people don't see that. They just see this dull, rigidly bureaucratic, crabby-bag of a woman, who probably got and keeps her position only because management couldn't find another person stubborn, mean and joyless enough to do it."

She couldn't hide the hurt she felt, "I...I can't help how people think of me. Isn't it enough for them that I do a good job?"

"No, not really," I said under my breath. "Maybe it was that way when we were just entering the business, but not anymore." Before she could answer or react, I slid her glasses off, "First, may I?"

I held them folded in my hand as I studied her face.

Her eyes were watery, and she sniffed back a tear. I still couldn't believe how powerfully my words affected her.

"I'm sorry I was so blunt with you, Beatrice. My intention wasn't to make you feel bad. Unlike most people, I have the deepest regard for you, but I can see past that stoic, outer shell of yours. I can see past the persona you try to project to the rest of the world. And I can see the softer woman you try to hide underneath."

"Please, Mr. Henry, may I have my glasses back."

I asked rhetorically, "About these glasses, Beatrice, are they some heirloom handed down from your great-grandmother that you're forced to wear out of family honor? These things went out of style with the Nixon Administration, if they ever were in style to begin with."

"I don't really care about style..."

"That's obvious, but their shape is totally wrong for your face."

"What do you mean?"

I ran my hands down from her temples to her jaw line and chin, outlining the shape of her face, while saying, "You have a very feminine, triangular-shaped face, and it looks odd having these hideously inverted triangular, cats-eye glasses on a triangular face; it's all too geometric. It makes you look like some weird, Picasso nightmare. You know what would look good on you, those new, frameless eyeglasses."

"I've seen those. They are smart looking," she said, excitedly. She paused for a moment and stared at me intensely, before asking, "Do you really think I have feminine features?"

Only if you consider a lamp post in anyway feminine.

"Of course. You're not a man, are you? You see, Beatrice, I tend to notice those little things about people, whether they're girls or boys."

She laughed at my small joke before clarifying herself, "It's just that I've been told I don't have the facial features and curviness of a woman."

Whoever told you that was dead on accurate. You have all the soft, womanly curviness of a straight razor. Popeye's girlfriend, Olive Oyl, is more voluptuous, and probably not nearly as high maintenance.