The Biker and the Beauties Ch. 01

Chapter 1. Lust in London

The setting sun threw surreal and ever changing shadows across the naked woman in front of me, and painted the pale flesh in a myriad of rainbow hues. She lay before me on the boardroom table of one the richest banks in the City of London, glistening with the sweat of our combined exertions, her pale blonde hair fanned out about her head. Her breasts heaved and quivered in time with her laboured breathing; and her hands fluttered and clenched either side as she slowly descended from the plateau of her orgasm.

I looked out across the smooth and sinuous curves that contrasted so with the harsh lines of the boardroom furniture, out into the deepening gloom of the London spring evening, and thought back on the strange set of events that had led me to my current situation. It had all started a month earlier when I got fired, and my life seemed to be in ruins.

I should, at this point, introduce myself and explain how I came to be in such a position. Until recently I had been a highly successful fund manager at one of the leading investment banks in the city. I was relatively young for my position, only 36, tall and fit, the latter due to the proximity of the best-equipped gyms and a diet consisting mainly of coffee and stress. The banking crisis had actually brought me this success if not the wealth that went with it. Ah the irony. During the boom I had resisted the urge to seek fast profits in risky investments. Instead, I had vetted my deals most carefully; going ahead with only those I felt in my gut were safe for my clients.

As a result my performance was deemed only 'satisfactory' compared with my colleagues and so my bonuses were small in comparison, although they did make me very well off as against the average man in the street. Then came the banking crisis and the credit crunch. As my colleagues' losses mounted, the long-term wisdom of my strategy became apparent. My clients were happy to discover that their investments were safe and they, unlike so many others, did not find themselves burdened with unexpected debts.

Word spread, and I found myself managing billions in new business, just as my employers announced a suspension of bonuses for the year. All my hard work and integrity availed me naught, save the responsibility of a huge new list of clients and their investments. But I was not unduly perturbed, next year I was sure to be rewarded when the bonuses returned. I should have known better. That is when they hired that bastard Frenchman, Pierre, as my new boss. He came from Paris tasked with 'cleaning up' the rogue traders.

What happened next; set me on my course with destiny. He soon identified me as the most successful trader, with the biggest client list and the largest level of investments. At this point I was looking after over 25 billion pounds worth of investments, a huge amount; and Pierre saw his opportunity. He falsified fake deals and got me fired. I was led ignominiously from the trading floor and expelled onto the street by security. His victory was apparently complete but he had underestimated his enemy.

I had researched my new boss when his appointment had been announced and I had discovered a worrying trail of ruthless ambition on the backs of broken colleagues. My defence was secure before he had even arrived and identified me as the enemy. Even as he enacted his plot against me I was gathering evidence of his own misconduct, and when he struck, there was not one scrap of privileged information to which I did not have access to a secure copy.

This is the point at which the bank for which I worked compounded their error in hiring the arrogant fool, by backing him when I presented the evidence of his misconduct. They took his side and declared my contract, not terminated, but null and void. I would receive not a single penny of the bonuses that I was due. My entire portfolio was to be transferred to the Frenchman. This is when I, in turn, struck.

Phone calls were placed, emails were sent, meetings were had, and agreements were made. I waited for the hammer to fall; I did not have to wait long. I received an urgent summons to return to my erstwhile employers and explain myself. I arrived late in the day, relaxed and smiling, in my scruffy leathers, hands darkened with grime from days of working on my bike in preparation of a planned trip around the world. Heads turned in my direction and I could faintly discern a muted whispering. My attire alone would not cause such interest, I knew, the rumours about what I had done had already begun. I was directed to the board room where I was asked to explain myself in front of the senior figures of the bank.

I was escorted up by one of junior execs; an attractive young woman in a pencil slim grey suit, 3 inch heels and a sheer blouse that peeked from beneath her tailored jacket. I knew this girl by sight and reputation, she was known as an ice queen, totally resistant to the advances of the young Turks around the office. Some even assumed her to be a lipstick lesbian, although she showed no sign of being attracted to her own sex. This time it seemed to be different however. I caught her giving me covert glances when she thought I wasn't looking, and did her hand linger a moment on my leather sleeve when she ushered me into the boardroom?

Dire warnings were given in that room, threats of legal action were made; the words 'breach of contract' were uttered in ominous tones. I smiled at the last. "What contract?" said I. There were mutterings. There was consternation. Surely I realised that there were harsh penalties for those who breached their confidential agreements, even after being fired. That's when I reminded them that my contract hadn't just been terminated; it had been rendered null and void. On the one side; I would receive no promised bonuses; on the other, those onerous termination clauses no longer applied. I was a free agent. I innocently asked, "What idiot came up with that idea?" The answer I well knew; it was my despised Frenchman.

There was silence in the boardroom as the true meaning of my words sunk in; the true depth of my revenge was appreciated. I reminded these men of power of my years of faithful service, of my warnings about the interloper, and that they had made their choice. Now they would have to live with the consequences. I thanked the board members for their time, turned on my heel and exited the room.

The young woman who has escorted me up was still sitting at her outside, as if waiting for me. I couldn't place it but there was something different about her, she seemed somehow slimmer than she had on our journey up, the jacket looser. It was when she stood up that I saw the cause the subtle alteration of movement, the asymmetrical jiggle that indicated the absence of a bra.

"You will be leaving now?" she asked.

"No," was my reply. "I have to see someone on the trading floor first, assuming the lazy bastard hasn't left already." It was already after 7pm; meeting with the board had taken longer than expected. "I'd be grateful if you could turn a blind eye," I struggled to remember her name from emails that I had received. "Julia, isn't it?"

"Well, I should escort you straight out of the building, but I suppose I can make an exception in this case."

We travelled in silence to the main trading floor. By chance, we were the only occupants of our elevator as we descended towards our destination. She had positioned herself in my eye line and began fiddling absently with her jacket. This caused it to pull away from her and gave me a perfect view into the shadowed recesses. Her blouse was completely sheer, of the type that office girls commonly wore in the summer over camisoles or lacy bras. No such garment was evident, however, and instead I was gifted a perfect view of the entire curve of her breast, surmounted by a rosy nipple, quite erect, its aureole tight and puckered about it.

Any questions I might have had at this unexpected and unprecedented behaviour were silenced by our arrival on the trading floor. Stepping from the lift, I scanned the floor for my target. Aha, there he was, surrounded by a group of his cronies; perfect. I strode forward, a sudden, and wholly feigned, anger crossing my countenance.

"Hey Pierre, you French bastard!" I shouted across the floor. He turned, and seeing my expression, a sneer of victory appeared upon his own.

"You are in trouble now," he crowed. "The FSA will 'ave your 'ide for what you 'ave tried to pull. You think you can steal my clients..."

"Your clients?!" I roared, stepping up to him and grabbing him by the lapels of his thousand pound suit. "They were mine, you thieving bastard. You stole them and planned to unload the toxic debt from your clients onto mine."

"You 'ave no proof," he hissed.

"Actually," I replied, my tone suddenly softening. "I do." I released his lapels and smoothed them flat again with the backs of my hands. Although he was unaware of it, the action had rubbed grease and engine grime firmly into the expensive wool of his suit, totally ruining it.

"You 'ave used privileged information to make deals with our competitors," he sneered. "You are finished."

"All the information I used was up here," I replied tapping my forehead. "Nothing from your systems, and there's not one single thing you can do about it because you rendered my contract null and void. No tie-in clauses, no confidentiality clauses, no termination clauses, nothing! You tried to ruin me, you arrogant little shit. But I have the last laugh. I told my clients about your plans for their money and they have pulled out... all of them! They have placed their investments elsewhere. Well done Pierre, go will go down in banking history as the guy to lose his firm over 25 billion in his first month on the job!"

Pierre want absolutely white with shock. There was muttering from the traders in the group around me. It was apparent that much of the strange movements that they had seen acted out upon their screens was being finally explained.

"Bu... but you are not working for anyone," Pierre stuttered. "You would not 'ave made a penny."

I grinned, shark-like in response, and said "It's called a finder's fee, moron." I leaned in towards him and whispered in his ear, the words for him alone, "One percent of total, that's 250 million, 150 after tax." I stood back to watch his face, which I could read like a book. It was priceless.

I would not expect to earn such a stupendous figure in a lifetime of bonuses.

The only way I could have pulled it off was a direct result of Pierre's own machinations.

I was set up for life because of what he had done.

And he was ruined, utterly, totally.

It would not be long before security came to drag him away, and he didn't have an out.

Already dangerously pale, his face went even whiter, his eyes rolled up in his head, and he fainted right at my feet.

"Checkmate!"

A hand touched me lightly at the elbow; it was my pretty young escort. "If you would follow me now." She drew me back in the direction of the lifts. I followed her happily. My triumph here was complete and she gave me a graceful exit. She summoned a lift and then turned to me, "That was quite, exhilarating, seeing those arrogant pricks put in their place. I hate them all, they are so full of themselves, and there's not a real man among them."

"A real man?"

"Yes, one that smells of oil, not eau-de-cologne; one not afraid to back down form a real fight, whatever the cost; one who knows how to use his hands for more than just pinching a woman's arse." We were alone in the lift once more, but ascending, not heading down. Julia had moved forward and somehow her jacket has come undone. Her breasts pressed into my chest, covered only by the thinnest, sheerest layer of material imaginable. She ran her hands up and down the creases of my old leathers, encircling my torso and then descending to my arse.

The lift dinged. The doors opened once more upon the uppermost lobby outside the boardroom. Julia pulled me into the lobby and then aside into a meeting room. "Wait here," she whispered. "I'll check on the boardroom." She buttoned her jacket and made to leave the room.

"Julia!" I said in a commanding tone. I had finally realised what drove this girl. In a testosterone fuelled world of drive and ambition, in which she had to be correspondingly hard and ambitious to compete, she yearned to take a submissive role. The irony was, while she was surrounded by dominant male stereotypes, she distained them all. What she sought was much simpler and more visceral than any of the city boys could provide. "Julia," I continued in a slightly softer tone as she paused by the door. "If they have gone, I do not want to see that grey suit of yours again, understand?"

Her eyes opened wide at the implication, and then her gaze dropped shyly away. "Of course," she replied, before silently leaving the room. A few moments passed in nervous silence before the door opened once more. Julia stood in the doorway dressed only in her blouse, an equally sheer white thong, and her 3 inch stilettos.

I regarded her for a moment, drinking in the sight of her partially clad body. She was slim, but not overly so, her body was toned from the gym; with a clear pale complexion. Her legs were long and slender, ascending in graceful lines and leaving a wide gap at their apex, where her pubis was barely covered by the scrap of white material that she wore there. I could clearly her outer lips, well defined, and devoid of hair, surmounted by a small blonde triangle, a shade darker than the hair on her head.

Her hips narrowed to a slender waist, apparent beneath the gauzy veil of her blouse. This was held away from her body by the thrust of her breasts. These were small but firm, standing proudly away from her ribcage, with absolutely no sign of sag. They were topped by small pinkish nipples surrounded by perfectly circular aureoles. The position she found herself in; barely clad, standing in the offices upon which her livelihood depended, in front of a man doing his best to remove her remaining clothes with the power of his eyes alone; was one that she obviously found exciting, for her nipples were slowly growing to erectness beneath my lustful gaze.

"They have gone." The words, drew my eyes from the contemplation of her breasts, up her long slender neck, to her face, normally pale, but flushed now with excitement. I would describe her face as somewhat elfin, despite her height of 5'8." She had a small, straight nose; full lips that were just a shade too wide; finely arched golden blonde eyebrows and eyes the colour of glacial ice, the palest of blues that were lit by sparkling flecks.

"Cleaners? Security?"

"No to the first; to the second, perhaps, later."

Ah the hint of danger, the possibility of getting caught, delicious. I moved forward then, grasping her shoulders firmly, and leaning into to a passionate kiss. There was a moment's resistance on her part, perhaps real, perhaps feigned; I would never know, for it was swept away by the passion of her response. She leant into me and returned my kiss as though it would be her last. Her arms enfolded my waist and her hands clutched at my leathers.

We broke for air and I released her. "The boardroom, now." I stated simply.

"Yes," she breathed, turning to go.

"Wait!"

She stopped. I pointed at her blouse, stained with grime, where I had held her. "That is ruined."

She made to remove it but I stopped her; grabbing the blouse by the open collar, I tore the flimsy material completely in two and flung the pieces either side of her.

She gasped and instinctively crossed her arms over her suddenly exposed breasts. I took her arms by the wrists and gently but firmly pulled them away from her chest. "Do not hide from me. I know you know."

She said nothing, but nodded, and walked meekly towards the boardroom, head down but arms resolutely at her sides.

The boardroom was eerily silent after the noisy anger of my earlier meeting. No hum of computers competed with the silence, just the faint susurration of the air conditioner. She turned and stood before the heavy wooden table that dominated the room, her hands bearing her weight as she leant backwards. I moved towards her again.

"I want to feel your hands on me," she said softly. "I want your filthy hands all over me, I want to be filthy, I need it." Even as she uttered the words, a blush of shame for her presumption heated her face and brought colour to her pale breasts. I grinned. I had been right about this girl.

I took her shoulders in my hand and appraised her, as though she were a statue, or perhaps some slave girl on sale in some long forgotten market. I moved one hand to her jaw, and moved her face from side to side, examining her intently. Then, moving down, I grasped her breasts, and kneaded their firmness, alternately squeezing and stroking them. I was careful to leave her nipples untouched, however, as I wished to taste them later.

I then knelt before her, running my hands down her abdomen, leaving streaks of black in their wake, until my hands rested on her hips. I laced my fingers through the waistband of her panties and pulled suddenly, sharply, tearing them from her in a single violent move. She gasped again with shock, but the pearly exudations of her pretty cunt belied the innocent sound. I bent forward, pressing my nose to her mons, the short crinkly hairs tickling my nose, and inhaled deeply.

The perfume of her musk filled my nostrils, and I dipped my tongue into her ready quim. She gasped again and her hands came round to press my head further into her dripping pussy. My own hands reached behind her and grasped the cheeks of her arse, bringing her even more firmly onto my tongue. I ground my face into her cunt, lapping at the juices that were now flowing so copiously from her inner passage.

I suckled and nipped at her inner lips, drawing them into my hungry mouth and eliciting gasps and moans whenever I bit the sensitive flesh. Then I extended a rigid tongue as deeply as I could into her slick channel, spearing her sex repeatedly with small movements of my head. With each thrust she let out a high pitched moan as her excitement increased. Finally I changed my target and focussed directly on her clit, sucking it into my mouth and running my tongue directly over its hypersensitive surface.

"Oh my God, yes," she cried, her hands pressing at me, clutching at my hair as she came for the first time that night. Her legs clamped hard onto either side of my head and she fought to still my movement. However, I mercilessly bore down on her clit with my tongue, driving her to further heights as she came; turning please to pain and then back to even greater pleasure.

Finally I ceased my ministrations and pulled back. I stood up and backed away, hands falling to the fasteners of my armoured leather leggings. Opening them, my semi erect cock strained as the cotton of the shorts that I wore beneath the leathers. The girl, Julia, was recovering from her orgasm and watching my actions with a look of rapt concentration.

"Come here," I ordered. "Take this out and give it the attention it deserves."

She slid from the table and knelt before me, hands stroking up the leather encasing my legs, towards the open fly. She pulled and tugged at the cotton until she was finally able to release my cock from its confines. She licked her lips at the already apparent size, even in its semi-aroused state and began to stroke it with her perfectly manicured hands. Soon it rose to full length and rigidity under the attention and she responded by pulling the foreskin back and laving the exposed head with her tongue.

Gradually her confidence increased and she began to take more of me into her small mouth, her lips delicate and soft against the shaft of my cock, and her tongue swirling and rubbing against the underside. Her jaws worked, opening wider as she bobbed her head up and down on my cock. I let her continue for a few minutes before taking control by placing my hands either side of her head. I threaded my fingers through her pale blonde hair, firmly grasped her scalp, and began to pump my cock into her mouth.