tagFirst TimeIntern's First Business Trip

Intern's First Business Trip

bydowd_elwood_p©

*** Front Desk ***

It was so noisy I could hardly think. The lofty hotel lobby had become an echo chamber for the excited chattering of the teenage girls scattered throughout the foyer. I was surprised to see their numbers when we arrived, and I had to abandon my boss in the midst of them in order to check in. Leaning over the front desk, I shouted at the receptionist to be heard over the din, "Are you sure? Could you check again please? It's Walker. Timothy Walker."

I wasn't about to panic yet, but I was starting to get a sinking feeling. Organizing this business trip was my first big assignment for the company, and things were not going well. Already, our flight had been delayed, and my luggage was lost.

I peered nervously back at my boss. Happily, she was occupied talking to an older woman, probably a client, and not stewing about my growingly evident incompetence. The pair, in tailored business suits, looked out of place amongst the bustling mob of young girls, but then again Ms Strickland always seemed to stand out in a crowd. Her sharply defined legs and full, firm body looked more bikini model than executive, but her straight black hair and dark, impassive eyes left no doubt that she was, in fact, a demanding, no nonsense boss.

"Sir, did someone cancel the room?" the receptionist asked.

"I don't see how. Only my boss and I knew the travel arrangements."

"Pardon?" The receptionist squinted her eyes as if that would help her hear better.

"I said, 'NO'."

The receptionist glanced impatiently at the long line behind me and then turned back to her computer.

I looked back again over my shoulder. The other woman had grabbed my boss's arm and was laughing. Were they scoffing at my screw-ups? It was a good thing that my boss, despite her reputation, had been tolerant with me while I was learning the ropes, or at least she had been before today.

I first met Ms Strickland in the company gym. As I was doing bench presses, she walked over and scanned me up and down. She was wearing a tight leotard, and I was afraid that she thought I had been stealing glances at her. She didn't know that I would never do anything that depraved. I had been brought up in a strict Christian family, and although I'm not as religious as I had once been, I have made an effort to remain above moral reproach. In fact, as she stood over me and demanded my name, I had to avert my eyes from her nipples, which were poking up under her work-out suit. I'm embarrassed to admit that I started to get an erection and had to shift my hips on the bench to hide it. Nevertheless, a few days later, she had me assigned as her intern and insisted on me organizing this trip for the two of us. At the time, I thought I had been lucky, but now I felt the opportunity turning against me.

"Eee-yoo," the squeal of a girl standing behind me in line snapped my attention back to the receptionist. "I'm sorry sir, but I only have the one room for you."

"But that can't be right. I made the double reservation myself."

"Yes, sir. That's what we have for you – one room, one double bed."

"Yeah ... no, but when I said 'double', I meant ..." Then I started to doubt myself. What had I booked? Unfortunately, the confirmation message was in my missing luggage.

Eyeing the restless line-up behind me, the receptionist proceeded to process me, swiping credit and key cards through her computer with practised hands.

"Well, you must have another room I could get."

The receptionist chuckled, "No sir." Then noticing my desperate stare, she stiffened her mouth. "Sir, it's the Midwest College Cheerleader Finals this week. There are no rooms available in the whole city."

She slid my cards to me, and I dragged them off the counter. As I turned dejectedly towards my fate, the two girls behind me jostled into my space to ask for a new card for their room, alternately interjecting, "No, you did! ... No, you did!" by way of explanation. Theirs was an eminently more forgivable problem. As I trudged back across the foyer, I could feel my balls tingle anxiously.

*** Lobby ***

The route back was a slalom course of boppy, overly energetic girls who intermittently lurched into my path. Preoccupied by self-pity, I didn't notice a young girl stumbling backwards towards me until her bum squished into my groin. She yelped on contact and spun around immediately. Her friends screamed with equal surprise but then prevented her retreat by continually pushing her back into me. Each time she fell against me, her hair pressed up against my nose, tickling it. The strong smell of her youthful perfume sent a chill down my spine.

Finally, I held her in place and backed myself away, the skin of her arms squishing delicately in my grasp. Turning bright red, she clasped her hands over her mouth in horror. Then she spun around and flailed at her cohorts, who parried and shrieked in defence.

I turned back around and noticed that I had become the centre of attention. My boss, with a scowl, beckoned me curtly to hustle over.

"Accosting young girls, Mr Walker?" the older woman asked as I arrived. She looked to be in her late 50s, thin, attractive and well maintained but with a skin that had been tanned a bit too much and a rough voice that hinted at hard living.

I blushed. "No ma'am. She just fell into me."

"And do girls always fall for you, Mr Walker?" The woman unexpectedly caressed the back of my head and ran her fingers through my hair. I shivered.

"Timothy, this is Mrs Robertson," my boss said, and once I heard the name, I recognized her immediately as the VIP client whom we were targeting on this trip. I had prepared a briefing on my laptop specifically for her.

"Pleased to meet you, ma'am." I wanted to extend my hand, but she had sidled up so close to me that I couldn't move without hitting her.

Mrs Robertson mussed my hair playfully. "My goodness, Beth, you brought a young one this year. I hope for your sake that he's eighteen. Or should I say for our sake?"

"That depends, Doreen."

"On what, Beth? His year of birth?"

"No, on you signing a Letter of Intent this year. I found that our ... uh ... promotional campaign last year did not result in much business for us."

"Oh, Beth, I thought I explained that to you. We just had a bad year; that's all."

"Yes, well, all the same, you'll understand if I get a signature this year before Timothy ... uh ... shows you his PowerPoint."

The woman hummed sceptically.

"I'm twenty, ma'am," I volunteered. I'm not sure I had followed the gist of the conversation, but I wanted to reassure her that she wasn't conducting business with a minor.

"Yes-s-s," Mrs Robertson said, suddenly putting her hand on my behind. "You certainly are." Her hand kneaded and fondled my ass cheek. Behind me, the group of girls raised a hoot at the sight and shoved my recent acquaintance to a skidding stop just behind me. She flailed back into the group.

The back of my neck got hot. What was Mrs Robertson doing?! I glared at my boss to signal my alarm, but she just smiled blankly back at us. She must not have been able to see the groping.

"Ms Strickland." I arched my eyebrows insistently. "I have to speak with you about a problem with the rooms. Maybe we could go over there, so we can talk."

"Oh, nonsense, Timothy," she replied. "I'm sure that you have everything under control. Let's not abandon Mrs Robertson."

"No, Timothy." The woman leaned uncomfortably close to my ear. "You don't want to be impolite, do you?" She curled her hand under my ass cheek and tickled the base of my sac through my pants. My cock leaped. I was mortified. I expected another reaction from the girls behind me, but out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that they had moved off.

"Maybe you can accompany us upstairs, Doreen,'" my boss suggested.

Giving my ass cheek a final cupping, Mrs Robertson murmured her approval loudly. "Well, we're starting early this year," she mused.

*** Elevator ***

Hustling with my boss's luggage, I fell in behind the two women, who caught an elevator before it could leave. In the back of the car was the same group of girls. My entrance prompted a flurry of elbow jabs and muffled sniggers amongst them. I tried not to make eye contact. The fit in the car was a squeeze, and I ended up sandwiched between the two women in the front and the girls in the back.

"What floor are we on, Timothy?" my boss asked.

"Five, ma'am."

My reply sparked a giggle from the back row. "Ma'am," I heard someone whisper mockingly behind me, followed by some snorts. Then I felt a hand on my ass. I swung my head around only to see the girls hamming up disinterested stares at the ceiling and puckering their mouths to keep from grinning.

I shuffled forward out of the way but ran into Mrs Robertson's hand with my leg. She looked over at me with a smile and clenched my thigh. "Beth, I'm delighted with your continued show of interest this year," she said, letting her hand slide towards my crotch. "I might be able to devote the entire week to you. Do you think young Timothy is up for extended negotiations?"

I tried to back away from her hand, but the girls closed the distance. Mrs Robertson traced the outline of my erection on my pants and then clasped firmly onto the bulge. As I jerked my hips back in reaction, two hands behind me each grabbed a cheek. I breathed in sharply.

"Doreen, it would our pleasure to be at your beck and call all week," my boss offered as the elevator slowed to a stop and the doors opened, "just as long as we get your LOI." My boss held the door open for Mrs Robertson to exit. "I have one in my bag. Maybe you could look it over while I unpack."

Mrs Robertson released her grip on me and shuffled to the side of the car. I snapped my head around accusingly at the girls but was met with looks of shocked innocence. Then one of them blew me an air kiss. "That's all right, Beth," Mrs Robertson replied, "I think I better just catch up with you later."

"As you wish," my boss said. "Timothy, let's go."

I hefted her luggage out of the elevator, and together we proceeded down the hall. From behind us, a chorus of girls' voices sang out, "Goo-ood bye, Tim-moth-ee-ee," and then the elevator doors closed on the subsequent giggling.

"Do you know those girls?" Ms Strickland asked.

"No ma'am. I think they're probably just raising heck because they're away from home."

"Did you just say, 'raising heck'?"

"Yes, ma'am. Sorry, ma'am. I'll watch my language. Oh, I think this is the room. Here let me."

*** Room ***

I wrestled my boss's luggage onto a fold-out luggage stand and went around turning on lights.

"It'll do, I suppose," Ms Strickland said inspecting the room. Then she disappeared into the bathroom. "So are you next door or down the hall?" she called out.

"Well, ma'am, that's what I was trying to tell you in the lobby." I could feel my throat closing and my tongue going dry. "I ... uh ... I ... This is the only room they have."

Ms Strickland emerged slowly and deliberately from the bathroom. She looked at me as if I had just said something in a foreign language. Brow furled and stare fixed, she circled around and then stopped in front of me. "I don't think I heard that properly. How many rooms do the TWO of us have?"

"One, ma'am. Or two. Or at least, I booked two. And now there's one. It's because of the cheerleaders. Or maybe I just booked one. But if I did, it was an accident." As I stumbled through my explanation, she advanced towards me, and I retreated in step. "I assure you it was an accident. So now there's only one." My back smacked up against the wall, halting my retreat. "Ma'am?"

"Uh huh. So in this perverted little scheme of yours," she said, leaning in towards my face, "what sleeping arrangements did you have in mind?"

"Oh, ma'am, I ... I never ..." A twinge of fear travelled up my penis. Her face continued to loom towards mine. "Well, you would take the bed of course, and I could sleep in the ... uh ... desk chair or on the floor or ... or in the lobby. I could sleep in the lobby."

The tip of her nose hovered just in front of mine. Her breath broke over my mouth as she spoke. "I get it now. This innocent, bumbling routine of yours is really just an act. You're actually pretty calculating, aren't you Mr Walker?"

"Ma'am, I ... I ..." A sickening feeling clenched my balls.

"Timothy, are you trembling?"

"Yes, ma'am," I stammered.

"Are you afraid of me?"

"Y-y-yes, ma'am."

"Good instinct, Timothy. Now calm down. I'm not going to bite your head off." She backed away and placed a hand gently on my cheek. "Not yet. My goodness, you look like a cornered bunny the way you're quivering."

"Yes, ma'am."

She smiled and then walked over to her luggage to unpack. "Well, don't piss yourself. You don't have a change of clothes. We'll sort out the room problem later. Right now, I need you to pull up the Robertson briefing. The way that she was hesitating on the LOI, I have a feeling that we might actually need to present this year."

I happily left my standing at attention and set up the laptop on the desk.

"By the way, Timothy, the desk clerk didn't say anything about someone ... um ... changing the reservation, did she?"

The screen flickered as it came to life. "Yes she did, actually."

"Oh?" Ms Strickland stopped rifling through her clothes. "And what did you say to that?"

"I told her that it was impossible because only you and I knew we were staying here." I scrolled through the list of files and double-clicked on the Robertson one.

"Yes, of course. Good." She walked around behind me. "Ah, you've got it. I'm going to take a shower now. Would you be a dear and finish unpacking for me?" She kissed my cheek and retired to the bathroom.

The kiss was a bit of shock, but since it was more peck than kiss, I dismissed it. I walked over to her open bag and drew a breath. All I could see was lingerie. I lifted a bra strap with a hooked finger, but it turned out to be a thong that was little more than the strap, so I dropped it. Next, I grabbed for a black satin slip, but it slid through my fingers like liquid.

I next saw a white lace nightie and imagined my boss wearing it, her full breasts filling out the cups, her dark aureoles making shadows in the lace, her ... suddenly the shower turned on. It seemed to be getting warm in the room. I abandoned the lingerie.

Unzipping a side compartment, I found some dresses, and so I went to get some hangers. As I neared the closet, I noticed that the hiss of the spraying water sounded unusually clear. I turned my head to look, and there, through the open door, was the nude form of my boss bending over to remove her panties. When she stood up, her wonderfully round buns formed into two, soft, protruding mounds. She reached over to pull back the shower curtain, and her full breasts drooped defencelessly beneath her chest. Then she turned back and looked into the mirror ... directly at me.

I whirled around immediately. She didn't see me. She didn't see me. She didn't see me. My heart was pounding. I grabbed for a hanger and banged my hand into all of them, sending them clattering to the ground. After a few deep breaths, I regained my composure and carried the tangled pile of hangers over to her luggage.

The first outfit I pulled out was a red strapless dress with a huge V-slit up the side. I didn't know how to hang it up so I put it back. The second dress was made of black lace. It had shoulders, so I was able to get it on a hanger, but as I placed my hand under the dress to shake out the wrinkles, I noticed that I could see my fingers clearly through the material. She'd have to be careful what she wore under it. It must have been just a covering for something else.

I walked the dress and hanger over to the closet and then remembered the open door, so I turned my back to it. However, against the far wall, a floor length mirror reflected the view of the bathroom, so I closed my eyes. The shower stopped, and the shower curtain screeched open. I placed my free hand over my eyes to stop myself from peeking. Then I tried to feel for the metal bar in the closet by holding the hanger out in front of me. I shuffled forward and swiped with the hanger back and forth trying to hook it.

Behind me, Ms Strickland broke into laughter, "Timothy, what in the hell are you doing?!"

"Hanging up your clothes like you asked, ma'am."

"You look like a blind man fencing. Here, give that to me."

I relinquished my 'foil' and uncovered my eyes but was shocked to see her nearly naked body. She had wrapped a small towel around her waist, which barely clung together and exposed one of her upper thighs through the gaping ends. She had also looped a rolled towel around her neck and left it to lie carelessly over the ends of her breasts. Didn't she realize that any swift movement on her part would cause the ends to swing away and expose her? Even now, the soft curves of her breasts were peeking around the sides of the material. I covered my eyes again with my hand.

Ms Strickland clicked the hanger onto the bar. "I was thinking, Timothy, that your clothes will be pretty smelly by tomorrow if your luggage doesn't arrive tonight. ... What are you doing?" She batted at my hand. "Take your hand down."

I did as she asked. "I'm sorry. I just didn't want to see anything that I shouldn't."

"Oh no?" she asked and then stared at me.

"No ma'am." I swallowed.

"Hmmm. All right, then phone down to the desk and arrange to have your clothes laundered. If we have to actually give a presentation tomorrow, I'll need you to look your best."

"Yes, ma'am." I dialled housekeeping and tried to avoid gawking at my boss as her towel and breasts swayed in dangerously inconsistent directions. "Yes, housekeeping, could you pick up some laundry from room 505?"

Bending down to open the dresser drawers, Ms Strickland's towel drifted away from her breasts, which lolled casually into view. I looked away, but my penis began to get firm. "There's nothing in here!" she cried. "One dress?! Is that all you put away?"

I tried to focus on the call. "I'm sorry? When will it be ready? Couldn't I get it sooner than that? I see. I see. Okay."

Shaking her head, Ms Strickland clipped the strapless dress onto a hanger and walked it over to the closet. "So? When will it be ready?"

"She said by dinner tomorrow."

"No, no, no, no!" Ms Strickland stomped across the room towards me, her towel flapping precariously up and down. I stumbled back and almost tripped over the desk chair. "We'll need it first thing in the morning!"

I found myself bracing at the wall again. "I know, ma'am, but she said that they send the laundry out, so they can't control that."

Ms Strickland stood in front of me, her hands on her hips. "You'd be surprised what people can control when they want to." Then she exhaled, and her features softened. "Don't worry. I'll speak to the maid when she comes for your clothes. Maybe some extra money will speed things up."

She shifted to go and then turned back. "By the way," she said, flipping the towel from around her neck and looping it over mine. She squeezed the ends together at my throat and pulled my head down to hers. "What were you doing when I was in the shower?" I wanted to avoid her eyes, but when I looked down, I saw her uncovered nipples, so I just stared back. She had a weird grin.

"Un-un-unpacking, ma'am." I squirmed.

"You hung up one dress. What did you do the rest of the time? I think you were peeking at me."

"No, ma'am, no!" An anxious feeling gripped my balls again. "I wouldn't do that ... except when I saw ... the ... your .... I mean I..."

"I saw you looking at me," she asserted, releasing the towel and standing back to reveal more of herself. Her nipples stared back at me. "What were you planning to do?" I tried to look away, but she grabbed my hands and placed them on her bare breasts. My hands melted into the soft, plump flesh. I was shocked. I couldn't breathe. "Were you planning to sneak into the bathroom and fondle me?"

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