tagMatureMulti-tasking Momma

Multi-tasking Momma

byBarb36D©

I had been out of work for over a year, and reached the end of my rope looking for the perfect job. The bills were stacking up and I was increasingly impatient to find any position, short of selling my fifty-plus-year-old self. Not that I couldn't have turned a good dollar, had I chosen that path. My healthy frame still supported a voluptuous and newly fit 34DD-26-36 body capable of twisting many a man's head. Fact is, my marriage was still intact after thirty-some years (even after a short series of swinging sessions), and the idea of screwing around on my husband no longer appealed to me.

Lowering my expectations, I invested in a few power suits, dusted off my secretarial skills and set my sights on up-and- coming corporate opportunities. After several typically bland interviews, I finally got a call back from a downtown accounting firm. The young corporation consisted of mostly male, mostly white, 30-year-old yuppies. They were nice, good-natured and comparatively harmless, so the environment was friendly enough.

After breezing through two preliminary interrogations, Rick Wilson, a senior accountant, conducted what was to be my final interview. I half-expected meeting a be-speckled, malnourished, nerdy type that could only relate to ledger entries. I couldn't have been more wrong in my assumptions. Tall Rick was a total stud, dark features with coal-black hair, smoldering bedroom eyes, and a gym-enhanced physique that put most men in their mid-thirties to shame. His exceptional good looks actually made me quite nervous.

"Please don't take this the wrong way, but we are looking to add some maturity to the group," he smiled, letting his eyes observe my anxious body language.

"In that case, I think you've found the right girl, I mean PERSON," I corrected myself, stiffened my back and returned his smile.

He went on to discuss that the job would entail some overtime and occasional out-of-town customer audits. I was to be the recording secretary for his group, working hand in hand with his two assistants, Matt and Barry.

"They're young and fresh, but I think you can handle them," Rick laughed, with an evil twinkle in his eye.

"I'm sure we'll get along just fine," I answered, finally breathing the sigh of relief that comes from knowing somebody wanted to hire me.

"Great! I'll take you back to HR and we'll look forward to seeing you Monday," he said, standing up to shake my hand.

"Thanks so much Mr. Wilson. I look forward to being part of the team," I chirped and felt his long thumb massage the webbing between my thumb and forefinger as we shook hands.

"Call me Rick, Barbara. Mr. Wilson is way too formal, okay?" He said, holding on for my answer.

"Rick, it is then... and you can call me Barb," I said, growing more comfortable with his warm hand in mine. As he showed me to the door, I couldn't help but notice how wet I was. I'd perspired in interviews before, but never between my thighs.

Bright and early the following Monday morning, there I was dressed in my dark blue power suit, hair gathered tightly into a bun and ready to meet the other two members of Rick's team. Matt and Barry were like two peas in a pod, both in their late 20's, both my height in my heels. They were moderately attractive, but what really set them off was their biting wit and use of suggestive language. Dressed in ties and shirt sleeves, they ushered me into a shared work area.

"So Barb, you're going to whip us into shape?" Started Barry, when Matt chimed in.

"Yeah, she's gonna use the big whip on us Bro," Matt smirked and high-fived his compatriot.

"Hey, if that's what it takes, then..." I winked and gave them a generous smile.

"Whoa Man, I think she might be serious," Matt stated, as the two undressed me with their eyes.

I knew right then there would be no trouble controlling these two harmless oversexed guppies. As long the work got done, I was willing to play along with whatever they could dish out. Even the obvious throat-clearing, when I took off my jacket didn't get to me.

"Okay you guys, we need to get past this, if we are ever to get any work done. Yes, I'm a woman; old enough to be your mother; and yes, I do have an ample figure – big tits and hips. I'm also quite married, so keep any naughty ideas to yourselves. Fun is fun and I'm no prude, by any stretch of your vivid imaginations. However, if either of you think I would ever do anything to jeopardize this job you're nuts. Is that clear?"

They sheepishly nodded, shrugged their shoulders and reluctantly returned their eyes to their sockets.

"Good; now let's see if we can get down to work," I said, tapping Matt's cheek, as I brushed past him to my chair.

From then on, the three of us got along famously. When we worked, we worked hard. When it was time to play, we laughed, told off-color jokes and traded harmless sexual innuendos. As the weeks rolled into months, the three of us became inseparable buddies. Our boss (Rick) was happy with our timely work and tried his best to relate to us on the job and informally.

"Rick is cool to work for, but with his title and shit – just makes it hard for him to get much closer," Matt suggested to Barry and I, in one of our saner moments.

"I agree. He's one hell of a boss. Too bad he can't loosen up a bit. What do you think Barb?" Barry asked.

"Oh, I think he's as loose as he can be around us. God help me, if he was any looser," I started.

"You mean you would jump his bones?" Asked Matt.

"In a fucking heartbeat! God, he's such a hunk!" I half-joked, rolling my eyes.

"Hey, what the hell are WE - chopped liver?" Barry barked.

"Nah, I think of you two more as my Teenie Weenie Twins," I laughed and spread my thumb and forefinger apart to estimate their short comings.

"Is that so? Just wait 'til next week. We'll show you some real salamis," Barry countered.

"Speak for yourself, asshole. She's gonna have to deal with a nice, thick summer sausage from this boy," Matt proudly announced.

The following week was to be our first out-of-town audit in Chicago. The three day job meant our whole team would be flying in from Minneapolis, staying over in a hotel and working long hours.

"You guys are so full of it. Push come to shove, neither of you have the balls to handle a real woman," I shrugged and shoved my chest out for impact.

The three of us had a nice long laugh, before diving back into our spreadsheets. Hearing someone down the hall at the water cooler, it never dawned on me that a person could have eavesdropped on our raunchy conversation. I put it out of my brain, as we transferred documentation forms from our desktops to portable laptops.

I sat next to Rick on the plane, as our team made its way from Minneapolis to Chicago. He explained how I would act as a liaison, delivering data between him and Matt and Barry. They would do the actual number crunching, and I would report back to him. Once in the air, we opened our laptops to synchronize our data. I don't know why I hadn't noticed until now, but these laptops bear an uncanny resemblance to my husband's PC at home. "Oh my God Rick, I've brought Donny's (my husband) laptop by mistake," I shrieked, instantly feeling like a complete dufus.

"Don't worry Barb. Matt and Barry have the same spreadsheets; just copy the files and we'll all be on the same page," Rick reassured me. He was right of course. Once I linked up with Barry our spreadsheets were identical, so I didn't feel quite like slitting my wrists.

"You know Barb. You owe us big time for this," Matt chided.

"Yeah, no more teenie weenie jokes, right?" Barry added.

"Okay, OKAY! Perhaps comparing to you to hors d'oeuvres was a bit cruel," I shrugged and smiled.

Touching down at O'Hare, we soon found our way to the Hyatt Regency and settled into our rooms. Barry and Matt shared a room. I had my own room, while Rick checked into his executive penthouse suite. I was pleased to finally relax by myself, after dealing with three accountants all day. The flight and frustration with the mixed up laptops left me tired and ready for the sack. The two single, horny guys tried to coax me out to take in the town.

"Come on Barb. Barry thinks he's "in love" with some hot little maid he just made eye contact with in the lobby... says she's really cute with huge tits. We'll make it a fun foursome," offered Matt.

"You guys are on your own. I'm headed for the sack," I yawned and shut the door.

I made a brief call to my hubby to let him know I had ended up with his laptop by mistake. He smirked and made some off-color remark about me finding his hidden computer porn. Tired as I was, I laughed off his comment and told him I was settling in for the evening.

6:00 a.m. digitally rolled over, as I awoke to the sound of my alarm. Refreshed from the extra sleep, I readied myself for the long day ahead. Pulling on a white satin blouse and squirming into my black skirt, I was nearly ready. Throwing on a red fitted jacket and stepping into a pair of matching patent leather pumps, I grabbed my purse and headed to the elevator for an early breakfast. Rick was already at the breakfast counter, as I approached to make my order.

"Well, I see at least two of us made it through the night," Rick smiled.

"Any news from Fric and Frac?" I asked, flashing a fresh morning smile to my handsome boss.

"No. They're supposed to meet us at the client's offices at 8 o'clock. I'm sure they'll show. They've never failed in the past," Rick stated and sipped his coffee.

We ate our breakfast and chatted about our families. Rick's wife apparently was a type-A personality, with a business of her own. He referred to their relationship as being "modern." I got the feeling they saw very little of each other. Rick also mentioned that his recently divorced father lived in Chicago, and how he hoped to find some free time to visit him while we were in town. We chatted more about his parents; more specifically his dad, who had always been a major influence in his life.

The morning flew by. As Rick had predicted, Barry and Matt showed up at the appointed time and we started the audit at 9:00 a.m. sharp. Rick did the high profile hob-knobbing with department heads, while I collected and shuffled data to and from the number crunchers. Like a fine tuned machine, our team was on pace to complete the audit within the allotted time, when Rick stumbled on an untraceable company error.

"Sorry guys, but this could take a few extra hours, unless you want to make a long day of it tomorrow?" Rick confronted us with the bad news. We all agreed to put in the extra time now rather than later. Sack lunches, high-carb snacks and more sack dinners kept us stoked until around 8:00 p.m. By then, we were all ready to crash and burn.

"Let's call it a day, what d'ya say? Martini time for this guy!" Rick exhaled.

"That's sounds like just what the doctor ordered," I agreed, closing down my (husband's) laptop.

Our weary foursome trudged back to the Hyatt. Barry and Matt made their typical excuses and were soon off to save Chicago's female population from virginity. Riding the elevator together to my floor, Rick asked if he could go over our last spreadsheet.

"Here, it's all yours. I'm headed for the hot tub," I said, handing him the laptop.

Once in my room, I stripped off my pantyhose, and threw off my jacket and blouse. Releasing the tight bun in my hair, I felt what was left of my nervous energy burn away. Flopping down on the bed, the day got the best of me and I dozed off. I must have been out for 30 minutes or so, when the phone rang. "Barb, I thought you were doing the hot tub thing?" Rick asked.

"Actually, I was on my way to do just that. Is there something you need?" I replied, shoving my feet back into my pumps.

"Those last entries you jotted down before we left... but hey, that's okay, it can wait 'til tomorrow."

"No problem boss, I'll run them up to you on my way to the tub," I offered.

"That would be great – you're a peach! See ya soon," he said and hung up.

I brushed out my shoulder-length hair and put my red jacket back on, without the blouse. Grabbing my swim bag, I headed back to the elevator. Observing my less-than-formal appearance in the mirrored elevator, I double-checked my jacket buttons and smoothed down my skirt. "I'll just be in and out, he'll never notice," I reasoned and keyed in the code to admit me to the restricted penthouse floor. Stepping out of the elevator, I noticed the door to his suite was open.

"Is that you Barb? Come on in. I'll be right there," Rick yelled from the bedroom. Glancing around the opulent suite, it was painfully obvious where the company preferred to spend their money. "I made Martinis and there are glasses by the bar. Go ahead and help yourself," he added, then emerged from the bedroom, wearing only a short towel around his trim waist. Still drying his hair with another towel, he went ahead and poured us each a Martini. "Wow, I hardly recognize you with your hair down–very nice," he noted, while I fumbled through my purse for the entry notes he had requested.

"Here, try this. You certainly deserve it after today," he noted, handing me the stiff drink.

"Thanks and here are those entries." I handed him my hand written notes and took a sip of the strong Martini.

"Oh yeah, thanks."

The alcohol shot straight to my brain, as I watched his muscular, half-naked body pace back and forth. After pretending to scan my notes, he sauntered to the front door and shut it. "Actually, I wanted your opinion on something else Barb," he started.

"Sure, what's that?" I asked, taking another long sip.

"Well, it's really not work-related," he continued cautiously and downed his drink.

I imitated him and swallowed the rest of my cocktail. He motioned for us to sit and refilled our glasses. "I was wondering what you thought about stag movies?" He blurted out.

"You mean porn movies?" I clarified, cautiously sipping my new Martini.

"Yeah; how do you feel about them?" He asked.

"I suppose I can take 'em or leave 'em. That's a strange question. I mean, if you've seen one... you've seen them all," I answered honestly. "Why do you ask?" I wondered, taking a seat on a long leather couch.

"How do you feel about them, generally speaking. What about the women in them, what's your take on them?" He followed up, crossing his hairy legs across from me.

"I just always figured they were crack whores, wayward girls lacking any self-esteem, or bitches out to make a fast buck," I figured and took another healthy shot of the stiff drink.

"Hmm, I agree. I mean that's pretty much what I always thought. So, you don't think they actually enjoy having sex like that on screen?" Rick prodded.

"Well it always looked so demeaning to me. I can't imagine–well perhaps... hell, I don't know," I said, wondering where all of this was leading.

The eerie silence that followed told me Rick was working up the nerve to accomplish something. Staring back into his dark sexy eyes, I downed what was left of my second Martini. Without a word, he got up and went into the bedroom. I took several deep breaths to somehow clear my foggy brain from too much alcohol. It didn't work. "If you don't mind Barb, show me how those latest entries relate to production," he asked, returning with the laptop and setting it up on a small round table.

Climbing to my feet, I almost collapsed from the alcohol buzz. Pulling myself together, I ambled to the table and sat down to face the laptop, while he stood behind me. Why he suddenly shifted back to work mode was beyond me, as I focused on finding the spreadsheet he was referring to. Opening the document, I began to enter the recent data and felt his warm hands on my shoulders. Any other time, I would have jumped out of my skin at the unexpected touch of another man's hands running inside the collar of my jacket. The Martinis had sufficiently numbed me, as he began massaging my neck and shoulders.

Concentrating on the spreadsheet became increasingly difficult. I pointed out a particular array and asked if those were the figures he wanted. That's when his fingers went to work unbuttoning my jacket.

"This is the only figure I'm interested in," he said and reached inside my bra.

"Ah Rick, I don't think this is where we want to go," I said and pulled his hand away to re-button my blazer.

"What about this sexy woman. Perhaps she'd be interested," he said, reaching over my shoulder to double-click one of the desktop icons. I watched in horror as up popped a homemade sex video of hubby had taken of us back in the 1990's. Apparently my husband's laptop had hidden treasures I thought he had trashed years ago.

"Oh my God! He promised he had dumped that stuff!" I screamed and jumped to my feet.

"He must have thought it was worth saving for some reason," Rick smirked and ran his hands over my shoulders and down my arms.

"Well, I'm sure he never expected to share it, never mind have my boss see it!" I stood shocked, as the movie with audio played on. Frozen in place, I watched an x-rated video of myself I'd never actually seen. There I was, almost a decade younger, dressed in nothing more than a black bustier, garter belt and hose kneeling in front of my hubby's 8-inch hardon. Anticipating what was soon to follow on screen, I slammed the laptop shut.

"That doesn't seem to be your average crack whore, does it?" He whispered in my ear and kissed my neck. "She's really quite beautiful," he added and undid the side zipper of my skirt.

"Rick, I can't do this," I shook my head away from his seduction. The combination of his touch mixing with the alcohol was so enticing, it made it extra hard to pull away from his grasp.

"Hmmm, looks as though the lady in that movie is more than willing," he said, reaching up to fondle my tits, while I yanked my zipper back up.

"That was then. This is now, and I just can't!" I exclaimed, grabbed up the laptop and bolted for the door.

My head was swimming with mixed emotions and alcohol, as I stumbled into the elevator. "God damn, another few minutes and I would have let him take me. He's such a stud!" I said to myself, taking deep breaths.

Back in my room, I wondered what my boss must think of me. It must have been a total eye-opener to find his matronly secretary was some kind of a sex-crazed old lady. How would this affect our working relationship? Could there ever again be a professional decorum between us? Should I have just let him fuck me? After all, there was a major part of me that wanted him to do just that.

Flopping down on my king-sized bed, I restarted the laptop and found the private file in question. Lying back against the headboard, I watched it play. I've never been into watching porn movies, but then I've never starred in one either. The digital unedited images of myself and hubby going at each other was actually quite erotic and started turning me on. Letting one hand nonchalantly find its way inside my blazer and bra, the other hiked up my skirt. Grabbing and tugging on my full tits, I parted my pussy lips and flat-fingered my clit hard and fast. I glared at the screen to watch my husband's hard cock racing back and forth inside my wet pussy. It wasn't long before I worked myself up to a frenzied orgasm in the process.

My mind skipped from visions of my husband to the fantasy of my boss fucking me, back and forth until I imagined them both doing me simultaneously. The pounding of my heart accelerated and became so overwhelming I scarcely noticed the beating on my door.

"Come on you sexy broad, time for a swim!" Matt hollered, as the door banging continued.

"W-what the hell are you two drunks up to?" I yelled, frantically fixing my clothes, before cracking the door open.

"Hey Baby, we're having a party and thought you should j-join us for a little skinny-dippin'," stammered Barry, sporting nothing more than a tight pair of Speedos and a towel.

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