Mrs. Hardison Ch. 02

Her heavy breathing turns to panting and then to short, sharp intakes of breath. "Oh God Ed ... oh God!" she screams out as she pushes herself as hard down on me as she can. I pick up my pace and her breasts are bouncing from my thrusts. Her gaze latches on to me once more; her legs wrap around my ass and spur me along.

"That is it," she whispers; "give it to me Eddie." She draws herself to me and starts breathing into my ear. I feel myself tightening up and make three more sharp thrusts before I explode inside her. "Good morning," I gasp. She's still grinding her hips against me and grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

"Good morning," she smiles in a satisfied superior way. Even when I initiate sex she still manages to take control. This woman has no quit in her. "One day I am going to make you my own," I promise her. "I welcome the challenge Mr. Duarte," she purrs in delight.

The things which follow are typically normal yet new and special. We work out, shower, grab breakfast and then start working again. We both need to accomplish much before Monday gets here. We start out in the normal position; she on the sofa cross-legged while I'm on the floor at her feet but somewhere in the process she glides down beside me so we are working together in silence.

I can guess what is going through her mind; she's glad to see me working on the project she's entrusted me with and I know she wants to be proud of me. There is also the comfort of sharing your workspace with someone with the same interests. Finally she's felt lonely until now and she's soaking up my presence so close to her.

While I'm running some numbers I sneak a hand onto Gloria's knee and rub a finger along her kneecap. She doesn't acknowledge me but that's not a denial either. "I want to go out," I tell her. She doesn't respond in any meaningful manner for a bit. "Where?" is her curt reply.

"I don't know," I say. Gloria gives an exasperated mutter. "We are going to wander the streets?" she mocks me. "Now that's a great idea," I grin. "When was the last time you walked around this neighborhood? You have parks, little specialty shops a few blocks over, and the architecture here is exceptional."

"Have you been internet searching this instead of working?" she accuses me, but there is a smile on her lips. "I can do both," I tease her. "I'm good with my hands." Gloria put her computer up and stands. "Very well Mr. Duarte, I accept your proposal. Let's get dressed," she allows. "Also, if you can catch me you can have me," and she is off like a shot.

This time I catch her right inside the door which is faster than my previous attempt. "Good Mr. Duarte, but not good enough," she breathes. She lets me hold onto her ass cheeks and rub my hands over them a few seconds before forcing her way free. Gloria and I strip down and start getting dressed, each stealing glances at each other, because there is something about a scantily clad form that draws the eye to it.

She's dressed in a nice pants suit while I'm in a t-shirt and jeans which leaves each of us a bit upset with the other. I'm not dressed for her upscale neighborhood and she's not dressed to have fun yet somehow we make a couple. "I'm not sure this is a good idea; I don't know what to do," she worries when we step outside. "Let's not do this."

I grab her by the arm and keep her going down the street while she struggles against me. "Trust me," I say calmly. "You have nothing to be ashamed of. We are two people out enjoying a sunny day." I know I'm dragging her out of her comfort zone; that's the point. She can be so strong and I'm going to remind her of that.

She is too self-possessed to glance around but she incrementally relaxes when no one reacts to us. We get some ice cream cones and I can tell she loves it. I can't imagine she's done anything close to this in fifteen years. The park looks good and she looks even better with the sun glancing off her hair and this subtle pleasure playing across her face.

"Take me home," she directs me. The walk back is done in silence but once she gets back she turns to me. "What did that accomplish?" Emotionally she's pushing me away again. "Don't be a bitch," I say and immediately regret. Her face hardens. "Upset because things didn't work out as you planned?" she mocks me.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say that. Sometimes it is one step forward, two steps back with us," I explain. She's clearly still angry but she manages a curt nod. "I accept your apology," she states with no visible emotion. I reach forward to hold her and she pulls away. "No." She heads upstairs and I give her space because I don't know what to do.

I sit down and start working again. I hear her coming in but keep my nose to the grindstone. "Eddie, if you are going to stay with me you have to do things my way," she tells me. "Okay," I respond immediately. She studies me then nods and leaves. When Gloria gets back she resumes her seat on the sofa like nothing has happened.

I'm beginning to think I totally fucked things up when she starts running her hands through my hair again. I put my hand up, she lets me run my fingers over hers, and we linger for a second or two before she resumes work. "If you get the project in by Wednesday I'd like to celebrate," she says out of the blue.

"What do you have in mind?" I reply. "I could cook you dinner," she answers, which stuns me. I didn't think she knew how to cook. "That sounds great. What are we having?" I inquire. "Steak strips, rice and vegetables," she responds. I look up at her.

"That sounds great; when do you want me to show up?" "Seven," she fires off. I am really beginning to think she doesn't know what she's doing. "What do I owe you for dinner last night? I know you are on a restricted budget." "Can't I provide dinner for my girl?" I ask her. Gloria arches an eyebrow.

"If you want to have financial equality in our relationship so be it," is her answer. Another woman might respect that decision but to Mrs. Hardison it is a test; nothing more and nothing less. "I expect to be eating steak on Wednesday," she challenges me. "Sleep is overrated," I tell her. She starts to think I'm joking then she sees the determination in my eyes.

We are sitting around the table eating some Italian takeout when something I've been meaning to ask her comes back to the forefront of my mind. "Do you really like anal sex?" Not the best dinner conversation but suddenly I want to know. I'm not sure what kind of reaction I'll get.

"Oh God yes," she exclaims excitedly. "Ever since college I've loved it," she adds with a pleasurable sigh. This is not at all what I was looking for. She looks at me with a sly grin. "This is not what you expected me to say?" "Maybe not with such enthusiasm," I admit.

"Am I too experienced for you?" she questions. "I would say you are more experienced, but I'm looking forward to catching up," I promise her. "Who says I'll ever let you catch up?" she says. "I will never know unless I try," I respond.

"Ambition becomes you Mr. Duarte," she smiles. "What can I say; I'm highly motivated," I shoot right back. Gloria loves ambition and she loves being desired so it is a win-win for her and I can see that excitement in her eyes. I wonder if this was what it was like with her husband all those years ago. I can't see her with just any man.

After that foray into the erotic the rest of dinner is mundane, domestic talk. When we finish I convince Gloria to put work aside and watch some Masterpiece Theater. I have my arm around her in no time and she has a hand on my thigh. When I get back with some wine from the kitchen she's moved to the far side of the sofa with her feet up and I want to groan.

She gets her wine and I get mine and I've positioned myself on the opposite side of the sofa with my feet touching hers. I am watching the show when I feel her feet going soul to soul with mine. I don't think much about it until she starts to push my legs back. I counter and soon an all-out foot war is going on. Now I know she wasn't pulling back when she chose to sit where she sat, she was setting me up for this contest.

"Let's put our wines down before something bad happens," she suggests. I nod but when I put my down she launches a surprise attack. My legs are pushed up and back and I'm struggling to get back down to the midpoint. Gloria's legs are turning out to be too strong and I finally have to give up.

"You cheated," I accuse her. "No Mr. Duarte, I showed initiative and planning," she laughs. "You relied on raw talent alone." "How come with me it is cheating and with you it is initiative?" I grouse. "Because I'm the Boss," she grins. I've had enough so I grab her legs and yank her toward me. I dive between her legs and land on top of her.

"No," she laughs playfully so I risk ignoring her and press her down. She taps me on the chest making mock protests and when I try to kiss her she swings her head from side to side avoiding me. I sneak down onto her neck and starts sucking. First she squawks but those protests turn into moans.

"Tell me you're sorry," I taunt her. "Never!" she shouts. We find ourselves dry humping when she grabs my head and looks deep into my eyes. "What are we going to do when you get tired of sex with me?" "I don't know; I don't plan fifty years in advance," I tease. I can tell by her expression that she likes that answer because we are kissing passionately in seconds.

"We are going upstairs," she informs me. For a fraction of a second I feel like resisting but then I'd be a fool to deny what I want so I'm pulling her up and dragging her to the bedroom instead. We roll around on the bed groping and pawing one another. "I want you to be on top," I smile because I've beaten her to the punch and she knows it.

Now she can get what she wants, or she can spite me in a fit of control. This time I've trumped her and passion trumps intellect. I have her naked in under thirty seconds. "Condom," she reminds me. As she mounts me I grab a double-handful of her breast and I love the heaviness of them in my hands.

Gloria is so enthusiastic that she is literally bouncing on me pushing her toward climax. "I told you I had to be in charge," she gasps. "I'm showing initiative and planning," I pant. "Fuck you," she cries out between sharp intakes of breath.

"Isn't that the point," I taunt her. She responds by grinding down even harder. "Who is fucking who?" she demands. "You are fucking me," I confess. "Damn right," she grins triumphantly. "You are mine; all mine." "I'm going to make you mine," I reply. I love the look in her eyes when I say that.

(Wednesday) At ten o'clock sharp I upload the first version of my project to the system and let Leslie know. She tells me I've done a good job and that she wants an update on my progress toward the Beta. I ask her if I ever get a day off. "Yes," she laughs. "It is called Christmas."

At 10:15 I get a message from a Mr. Hamid Rashid over in Legal telling me to come over and see him at eleven. I have to go through the corporate directory to find out who he is. The guy is the coordinator for Internal Processes, which translates over as a manager. Why does a man two pay grades above me want to see a peon like me? Since he wants to see me at eleven so I show up five minutes early.

I am hardly expecting anything pleasant so I'm a bit surprised when I get ushered right into his office. He stands up, smiles at me and shakes my hand. "A moment please," he tells me as he points to a chair for me to sit in. He taps his headpiece and makes a call.

"Mr. Duarte is here," is all he says. He nods once, smiles warmly to me again. "You are to go to Ms. Cook's office. My assistant will show you the way." With that I am dismissed. His assistant, some closed-off guy named Edward, takes me away. I'd ask him who Ms. Cook is but he's treating me like a leper.

Oh. My. God. Ms. Cook is Ms. Joyce Cook, Director of Legal Affairs for the corporation. I'm feeling horribly guilty and I don't know what I've done wrong yet. Edward leaves me with Ms. Cook's assistant, a stern looking willowy woman named Katherine Wilson. "So Katherine, what am I here for?" I grin. She stops working and looks up at me over a finely-wired pair of glasses. Her grey hair still has streaks of auburn in it, and her pale thin lips are drawn in a tight line.

"Do we know one another?" she inquires. "No." "Then you may call me Mrs. Wilson," she corrects me. "So Mrs. Wilson, do you know why I am here?" I start over.

"No. I keep to my own business and don't pry into the affairs of others," she informs me. I nod. "Fair enough." I feel like I've walked into some B-grade movie Gestapo flick where no one knows anything. Mrs. Wilson looks over at me after a minute, no doubt getting instructions over her earpiece. "You may go in now," she instructs. I do as commanded.

Were as Mrs. Hardison's office is Spartan, Ms. Cook's office is luxurious filled with pictures, awards and citations. Her seats are plush and comfortable-looking. Ms. Cook's gaze captures me the moment I step in. The door makes an ominous click when it shuts so I suck it up and walk forward.

"Very punctual Mr. Duarte," she compliments me. "I know your time is very valuable," I respond; after all I don't know what else to say. "I understand you've been doing very significant work for the company. That is a lot of responsibility for someone only with us for one year," she says. "Have a seat."

I take a seat and Ms. Cook comes around the table and leans against it in front of me. Now she's a very attractive woman, her just-past-shoulder length hair is blonde going to grey. She has a pale complexion virtually free of blemishes, nice breasts, a pleasant if not thin waist and full womanly hips. Her skirt is shorter than I would have expected, mid-thigh, but it shows off her luxurious thighs and strong calves.

She catches me looking her over and I blush which causes a wicked grin to crease her lips. She crosses her legs in a successful bid to look even sexier. "Earth to Mr. Duarte," she smiles. I gulp. "Yes Ms. Cook, what can I do for you?" I say quietly.

"You can answer some questions," she informs me. She shifts around reaching for a folder on her desk allowing me a glimpse of her nice largish ass. Were Gloria is firm and tight, Joyce is plush and curvaceous. While I'm thinking that, she slides a picture over to me. It shows me and Gloria walking down the street.

"Ah ..." I don't know what else to say. "How do you explain this?" she asks politely. "It is Mrs. Hardison and I going down a street in her neighborhood on our way to get some ice cream," I explain.

She slides a few more photographs my way. They show me going into Gloria's place at night and leaving in the morning. I have a sinking feeling but I don't know where this is going. "What are we to make of these?" she persisted. "I'm not sure where you are going with this," I tell her. She licks her lips.

"I think an inappropriate relationship is going on here," she states with some sympathy. "I ... um, how so?" I respond. "Are you really that dense?" she asks. "No, but I'm not sure what business this is of yours," I reply. "So we are seeing each other. If you think she's been doing me any favors, you are mistaken." The idea of Mrs. Hardison doing anyone any favor is nuts, but that seems a stupid thing to say right now.

"Let me put this in perspective for you, Mr. Duarte," she says as she pulls out two more papers. "These are two sexual harassment complaints filed against you that are still pending." I look them over. They are from two of my female co-workers that I had a few good nights with, but it was totally consensual.

"Why am I not fired yet?" I inquire. "Because there is a way out of this for you; it is possible for these problems to be dealt with in house, say Sensitivity Training, but you need to do something for me," is her friendly reply. I wait for the other shoe to drop.

"You can file a sexual harassment complaint against Gloria Hardison," she offers. "I ... what ... why?" I stammer. "She's the one with the power and authority in your relationship, Mr. Duarte. She's in a position to take advantage of you, or provide you with favors," she explains.

"No," I answer. "Why?" "She's not taking advantage of me and she's certainly not doing me any favors," I respond. "Your loyalty is commendable but ill-founded. We both know she had no loyalty to you and if you don't do something to save yourself she will certainly let go down alone," she says.

"I wouldn't do that to her," I persist. "You can't believe others haven't come before you, do you? Don't let her make a fool of you and throw your career away." She is right; I am totally blown away. I am about to be barbecued. "I need to think about it," I tell her.

"You really care about her, I can see that. Don't wait too long because once word of this gets out you are finished and there is nothing else I can do for you," she warns me. "You may go." Normally I wouldn't mind watching her walk around her desk, but I am desperate to get out of there. I get back to my desk, throw myself into my work but my heart isn't in it.

(Wednesday night) I walk in and I know she's setting stuff on fire in the kitchen. I set down my overnight bag and walk into see what I can do. Gloria has totally lost control of the situation; the steak has caught fire, the vegetables are blackened, and I have no doubt the rice has turned to mush. "Here, let me help you with that," I offer. She looks at me defiantly but the oven fan is starting to lose the battle against the smoke.

I step up and take over without further comment. I am right; dinner is a total loss. "This isn't fair," she complains. "You can do this; why can't I?" "Rich people go out to eat at five star restaurants; poor people learn to cook on hot plates," I explain. "How about that soup and salad place; they deliver?" I add.

Gloria hangs her head in defeat for about half a second. "I am going to cook one meal every weekend," she insists and I hug her for it. She's a bit stiff because she hates to lose out or to fail in a commitment but she sees I'm not holding it against her. She gently pulls away and places our orders then helps me clean up the kitchen while we wait

We are sitting down on the floor, food around us and backs to the sofa with one of her legs lying over mine when I feel the need to open up to her. "I was called to Joyce Cook's office today," I begin. Gloria stops eating but she doesn't look my way.

"What did she want?" Gloria asks softly. "She wanted me to file a sexual harassment complaint against you," I answer. "Oh," followed a few seconds later by, "what else did she say?" "Remember those two women in your department I had affairs with? They have filed complaints against me," I continue.

"What are you going to do?" she whispers. It is almost tragic. "What do you mean?" I ask. "I am going to face the music. What else can I do?" "Mr. Duarte you are throwing your career away. There is nothing I can do to help you and these harassment complaints are going to haunt your forever," she informs me.

"Gloria, if I make that complaint you won't make President. That is your plan and I'm not going to sink it," I tell her. Now she turns and looks at me. "Please think about this," she cautions me. "Okay," I say. I'm not sure how much there is to think about.

(Thursday morning) I show up early and work my ass off until 8:50 when I clean up my station and go over to legal. I walk over to Mrs. Wilson's desk where she gives me an icy stare I return with hostility. "I need to see Ms. Cook," I tell her. "She's busy. You need to make an appointment," she responds.

"I need to see her now," I insist. "She will let you know when she needs to see you," she glares. "That won't be necessary. You can relay my message for me," I say before taking in a deep breath. "Tell her she can stick her deal up her fucking ass!" I shout loud enough for the whole floor to hear. Mrs. Wilson pales and all the work around us stops. "Are you sure you have that or do I need to repeat myself?" I snap. Mrs. Wilson shakes her head still in disbelief before I turn and leave.