My Mistake

Thanks to Annafaye in particular for pointing out a few 'Britishisms' in the text here. I've updated and corrected it to get rid of these and a few typos I spotted, but the story's the same. I hope people enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. And again, if I've got the American vernacular wrong (do New Yorkers say 'really' or 'real' like they do in the West? Is it called a 'ladies room', etc?) please let me know. As anyone who has read 'Local is as Local Does' will know, I'm very keen to get the 'feel' right.

____________________________

It was my own fault. When my boyfriend dumped me I just couldn't keep two thoughts together for five minutes. I knew that the Solomon account was really important to Mr. Taylor, but I completely forgot to tell him that Solomon had called, wanting to talk urgently. It was hours later when Solomon called again. I put him straight through, only then realizing I'd forgotten to give Mr. Taylor the earlier message.

Ten minutes later, Mr. Taylor comes out of his office with a face like thunder. Normally he would have called me into his office for a chat, but he just leaned over my desk and pretty-well shouted at me. "Lois, that was David Solomon. He said he phoned personally and left a message this morning for me to call him urgently. You know what he's like -- he doesn't ask twice. You gave me no message, Lois. As a result, he's just phoned to say he's transferring his account to Schwarz and co. He's our most important client and you've let him slip away. You're fired! Clear your desk and get out!" Then he stormed back into his office and slammed the door.

And that was that. No "what was the problem, Lois?" No "can you explain, Lois?" Nothing. Four years' loyal service ended, just like that.

I was in tears as I shoved all of my things in a crate and made my way to the elevator. This was the best job I'd ever had. Mr. Taylor was demanding, but we always got on well enough. When I got home I cried for about an hour. No job, no reference, and no chance of getting another job as good as this one.

What could I do? I made my mind up to go to Solomon in the morning and explain. I'd beg, I'd grovel if necessary for them to keep their account with Taylor's. If they did that, then just maybe I could get my job back. I phoned Julie, David Solomon's secretary who I'd spoken to on several occasions, and, miracle of miracles, she was able to find me a 15-minute slot in his diary at 10:30 the next day. My one shot -- I had to make this work.

I dressed smartly and professionally, if a little bit glamorously. My best Dior business suit was a little tight across the hips and around the chest, but I felt that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. A smart white business blouse, my best (and only) Manolo Blahnik patent heels, and some carefully applied makeup completed the outfit. I took a long time over doing my hair, putting it up in a very professional-looking style, and took a cab to Wall Street, rather than take the Subway and get mussed-up.

I sat apprehensively outside David Solomon's office, occasionally glancing at my watch. At 10:36 Julie, who had sat behind her desk the whole time, told me to go in.

I'd met Mr. Solomon before, on two or three occasions. He was tall, with a strong, athletic body. Someone told me he'd been in the rowing team at Harvard, and you could believe it. His chest and shoulders were strong and broad, making him look pretty formidable. His jaw was firm and his mouth rarely smiled when I'd seen him in meetings -- though I now remembered that he had smiled a few times at me when I'd been bringing him coffee and showing him into Mr. Taylor's office. His thick black hair was swept back off his face, emphasizing his high cheekbones and those unfathomable dark-brown eyes. He ushered me to a chair opposite his desk, and treated me to one of his rare smiles.

"So Lois -- it is Lois, isn't it? What can I do for you?"

My throat was dry. I sat down, carefully arranging the flared skirt of my Dior suit. "Mr. Solomon. After yesterday's misunderstanding, I wanted to come here directly and apologize to you in person. I'm so sorry for yesterday's mix-up; it was entirely my fault. My boyfriend dumped me two days ago, and my concentration was completely shot."

"I accept your apology." Again, that rare smile. "So what do you want me to do about it?"

"Mr. Solomon, I'd like you to keep your account with Mr. Taylor. If you can please do that, then Mr. Taylor might take me back on."

"So -- Taylor fired you?"

I nodded. He fixed me with that inscrutable gaze. Then he leaned forward across his desk. "Lois. There's something I need you to do for me. Will you do it?"

"Anything, Mr. Solomon. That job was real important to me."

"Good. Go down the hall, into the ladies' room. Take off your bra, pantyhose and panties and put them in your purse. Then I want you to frig your pussy until you're good and wet. When you're ready, come back to my office. When Julie lets you in, come over to my desk, lift your skirt up, bend over my desk and ask me to fuck you. Can you do that, Lois?"

He said it as if he were dictating a letter or a list of jobs. I was shocked, and for a moment I didn't know what to say.

"Mr. Solomon, I..."

"You did say 'anything'. How important is the job to you now?" Again, that inscrutable look.

My head said "He's toying with you. Don't do it". My heart said "You need the job. It's only a fuck. It's not like you're a virgin." And my pussy said "Actually, he's pretty hot."

"OK, Mr. Solomon. If that's what it takes to get my job back, I'll do it."

He smiled and pressed a button on his phone. "Julie -- postpone my 11 o'clock meeting until this afternoon. Lois here needs to present something to me."

The ladies' room on the executive floor was pretty well-appointed, but I ignored all the colognes and stuff. I went into a cubicle, shut the door and leaned on it. My heart was pounding and my knees felt weak. I wasn't sure I could go through with this. Surely Julie would guess what was going on. Surely everyone would know that Mr. Solomon had fucked this stupid little bitch from Taylor's over his desk. Even if I got the job, they would smirk every time they called me up. But what other choice did I have?

So as Mr. Solomon had asked, I took off my jacket and unbuttoned the blouse. The bra was strapless, so it came off easily and I refastened my clothing, feeling the contact of the crisp cotton against my nipples. I removed my pantyhose and panties. I was a little surprised to find how wet I was already. Perhaps it was the power angle, maybe the fact that he was strong and handsome, but my body was betraying me. At some level or other, I wanted this to happen.

It got worse as I returned to his office. My tight jacket made the cotton blouse rub against my nipples as my breasts bounced. The cool air on my now naked pussy under my skirt felt weird and sexy. But most of all, the thought of what I was about to do made my heart pound and my head reel.

When I got back to his office, Julie was waiting for me. For the first time I noticed she was pregnant. "Hey, when's it due?" I asked, trying to calm myself with some small-talk.

She smiled. "Oh, in about 6 weeks. Do you need any pens for your presentation?"

I was a little flustered. I clearly didn't have any materials with me. Julie would immediately see through this little charade. Then I had an idea. "No -- no thanks, I've got all my materials on a stick." I proudly produced a USB stick from my bag.

Then I thought how ironic that was. In a few minutes it was going to be me on a stick.

"Cool. He's ready for you. Go right in." She smiled -- knowingly, perhaps? I couldn't tell.

As the door closed behind me, the walk across to his desk seemed daunting. He was leaning back in his chair, jacket off, tie loosened, his expression one of amusement. I tried my sexiest walk, stopping across the desk from him. I tried to make eye contact, but couldn't.

"Yes, Lois. What have you got to show me?"

I unbuttoned my jacket, and started fumbling with the buttons of my blouse.

"Take your time, Lois. Don't rush." he said softly.

With my blouse undone, I parted it to show my breasts. They're pretty good, even though I say it myself. My boyfriend before last had paid for some work, and they're a really good shape and size.

"Thank you Lois, very nice. Is that all?"

Is that all? Most guys would have drooled over my titties! But I knew what he wanted. This was it.

I hiked up my skirt around my waist, showing him my neatly trimmed pussy. He showed no reaction, so I moved round to the end of the desk, and just as he had asked, bent forward and put my elbows down onto the desk. "Mr. Solomon. Please fuck me." I said softly, looking down onto the leather surface of the desk.

"Look at me Lois. Ask me again, and ask me nicely."

I looked up, into his big dark eyes. He looked so strong, so powerful, so scary! My throat was so dry I could barely talk. "Mr. Solomon,..."

"Louder."

I tried to keep eye contact, although my voice was wavering. "Mr. Solomon. Would you fuck me, please?"

He smiled and got up from his chair. "I'd be delighted to, Lois." He unfastened his pants and pulled his boxers down. His cock was in proportion to the rest of his body -- long and thick, with a bulbous, circumcised head. It looked pretty impressive from where I was standing bent over with my ass in the air.

He moved round behind me and slipped a finger into my pussy. "Good, Lois. Nice and wet," he said, as if reviewing a letter I'd typed. He opened my thighs wider and pulled my skirt higher up my back.

Then I felt his large cock-head at my entrance, and he immediately started to push. I had to brace myself on the desk. I'm as fond of a big cock as the next girl, but the guy needs to ease it in gently. Mr. Solomon wasn't exactly brutal -- I had one guy with a nine-incher who shoved it in so hard he made me bleed -- but he wasn't going to wait long for me to be ready. I took deep breaths and tried to relax my tight pussy muscles, but the stretch was still a little uncomfortable.

I gasped a bit when the big head popped inside and my pussy entrance shrank back around his shaft. He was certainly big enough to fill me pretty comprehensively, and the first few thrusts were almost painful, opening me up in a way I hadn't experienced for a while. Vinny, my ex, was a bit of a needle-dick. Oh he could use it OK, but sometimes a girl needs a little more meat to chew on. Mr. Solomon was rather too much to bite off in one go.

After a few long thrusts, it sort of became a little easier, as he stretched me and spread my juices around a bit more. "Nice tight cunt," he remarked, almost like he was just making conversation. It made me feel like such a slut, bent over his desk, taking his dick, with him using crude talk to me in a tone of voice that implied he fucked his secretary every day. Maybe he did. I just prayed this got me my job back.

At first, his only touch -- apart from his cock - was his hand in the middle of my back, holding my skirt up. After a while he moved both hands round to cup my titties and play with my nipples. That felt good. They're sensitive -- even more so since the boob-job -- and I started getting into it. Then he moved one hand down to my pussy, cleverly stroking my clit, and angling his thrusts so that the sensations on my g-spot were -- well, sensational. I started moving with him instead of bracing myself for the next thrust, and now he was moving comfortably -- pleasurably -- inside me, I began to push back to meet his thrusts.

He obviously caught on to what I was doing. "So Lois. You like my cock in your tight little cunt, do you?"

"Yes -- yes Mr. Solomon" I gasped.

"So you won't forget me on the phone again, will you?"

"N -- no sir!"

"Good. Now you're going to come for me like a good little slut, aren't you?"

"Y -- yes sir!" I moaned, because he was right. I was a little slut, fucking a stranger for my job, and yes, he was making me come.

Halfway through my orgasm, as my pussy walls undulated around his thick cock and my clit and nipples sparked and throbbed, I felt him let go. I could feel his dick twitching and pulsing inside me, even with everything else in my abdomen was squeezing and churning.

Both of us had managed to come without making too much noise -- a few stifled moans and groans. Eventually he pulled out of me, wiping himself on an expensive, clean handkerchief, and then passing it to me.

He straightened his clothes as I mopped up most of my juices and went to pass the handkerchief back to him. "Keep it," he said. "Now, make an appointment for tomorrow afternoon with Julie. Bring lipstick."

"But Mr. Solomon. I thought..."

"It's too early yet for me to establish whether you deserve your job back. So far your performance has been very satisfactory, but I need to establish whether you have the appropriate commitment. I'll see you tomorrow. Good day."

Back in the ladies' room, I sat there, his cum dribbling down my thighs, still trembling a little. Partly it was the aftermath of a strong orgasm, but mostly I was upset and angry at how he was using me. I felt he didn't really intend to get me my job back. He really was just toying with me. He intended to fuck me until he'd had enough and then discard me. I couldn't go through with it.

But the next afternoon, I dutifully waited, again in Dior suit and Blahniks - and nothing else -- waiting for my appointment. I'd applied a heavy, red lipstick. I had a pretty good idea what was in store.

Once Julie had closed the door behind me, I took the long walk to his desk. He was examining some paperwork on his desk, and I waited for him to look up. I put down my satchel and this time looked him in the eye.

"Yes Lois? What do you want?"

"I want to suck your cock, Mr. Solomon. Can I, please?"

He smiled. He clearly wanted me to anticipate what today was about, and carry on our little charade from yesterday.

"You may. On your knees, miss."

I'd chosen today to not wear a blouse under the jacket and just to button it higher. I unbuttoned and removed it now -- I didn't want semen on my nice Dior suit. Then I dropped to my knees and crawled under his desk. He didn't move, so I just unzipped him. He was already erect, and I licked him up and down, wetting him with my mouth. He was fully shaven, so it was interesting licking his balls and feeling the velvety skin against my lips.

I had a difficult job getting his cock-head into my mouth and behind my teeth. Once there, my jaw soon began to ache with the effort of keeping so much cock in my mouth. But this was for my job, my career. I had to give him the best fucking blow-job he'd ever had.

Normally I can do deep throat on a guy, no problem. Needle-dick Vinny was forever sticking his meat down my throat, balls-deep, and I could tolerate that. Not Mr. Solomon. That big knob on the end wasn't going through my throat, no matter how hard I tried, and it was beginning to feel bruised and sore.

Then he stuck his hands in my hair and moaned "Suck it, slut! Suck my cock you horny bitch!" And then my mouth filled up with cum so fast I nearly choked -- burst after thick, sticky burst of it. I pulled back enough to allow me to gulp it down, then began to cough. He slowly slid his cock out of my mouth as I spluttered and choked, pulling my head back so he could inspect my face.

"Perfect. You look just like the beautiful slut you are!"

From his desk drawer he pulled a small mirror and showed me my face. Lipstick was smeared around my mouth, my mascara had run down my cheeks where his thrusts into my throat had made my eyes water, and his cum was dribbling down my chin. I felt totally humiliated.

"My private bathroom is through there. Go and clean up."

I grabbed my purse and headed for the washroom. It was pretty luxurious, equipped with all sorts of nice toiletries, including a lot of products laced with the cologne I could smell when I went down on him. I gargled with some mouthwash, then drank quite a lot of water from the faucet. I cleaned up my face and removed the splashes of cum from my titties, and reapplied a little make up. I looked at myself in the mirror and thought "You're being used, you stupid little whore, and you know it. He still won't get you that job back, and today he didn't even make you come!"

I returned to his desk to pick up my jacket. He was sitting behind the desk, studying something on his laptop. I was almost about to swear at him, tell him he was an arrogant, brutish fucker who used and manipulated people for his own selfish ends, but then he looked up and completely disarmed me by smiling.

"Beautiful tits, Lois. Really nice. And a very good blowjob. I particularly liked the way you kept trying to get the head of my dick past your throat -- not many women can do that. Here's a little present for you." He passed me a box, about the size of a large paperback, exquisitely gift-wrapped. "Take it home, open it, then follow the instructions inside. I've already made an appointment for tomorrow's interview. I'll be expecting you at 2. See you then."

And he went back to looking at his laptop screen.

In the cab on the way back, I was in turmoil. Another session -- I'd hoped it would be all over by now, and Mr. Taylor would be welcoming me back. I felt sure he must have already hired someone -- he was useless on his own. There would be a line of girls around the block for my old job. Time was running out.

Back at my apartment, I carefully unwrapped the beautiful present - and was shocked by the contents. Inside were an anal douche set, a tube of lubricant and a butt-plug, with instructions on when to use each of them. I was to be in his office at 2pm, douched, lubed up and with the plug inserted for at least an hour. It was clear that Mr. David Solomon had tried two of my holes and was determined to fuck the third before he cast me aside. The instructions were headed 'Your final assignment'. Did that mean he meant to honor his side of the bargain, or just that after this he was done with me?

The butt plug felt weird and really big in my ass as I tried to walk down to the cab rank. Needle-dick Vinny had -- of course -- tried and succeeded to plunder my ass on several occasions. None of them felt particularly good, but it hadn't been so painful or unpleasant that I never wanted to try it again. But David Solomon was bigger than Vinny -- a lot bigger. In fact, the plug was bigger than Vinny, and I felt full in a strange but not entirely unpleasant way as I shimmied down the sidewalk.

Having a large rubber plug up your ass makes you walk a little differently, and I wondered whether anyone noticed. The cab driver seemed typically nonchalant as I got in, though he probably enjoyed the view down my top as I bent to tell him the destination. I'd chosen something a little more revealing this time; the skirt was shorter and a little more flared, the clingy top slightly see-through, low cut and not disguising my nipples that were already hard.

I have to say that this time, I was already fairly aroused. I'd chosen a dark, lined skirt because, having walked around with the butt plug in for nearly half an hour, I was frankly horny as hell and my pussy was leaking juices. As Mr. Solomon had forbidden panties, and had also ordered that my pussy should be fully shaved rather than just trimmed, the juices had nowhere to go. In the back of the cab I had a surreptitious wipe around, praying that the driver didn't choose that moment to glance in his mirror, but by the time I was outside Mr. Solomon's office I could feel the skirt lining wet against my ass cheeks.

Julie gave me an appraising look and half smiled. "He's expecting you. Go right in," she said. If my previous two encounters with Mr. David Solomon had made me nervous, the thought of what I had to do today was almost giving me palpitations.