The Proposal Ch. 01

He was still moving in her, kissing her, whispering sweet nothings to her as his hands caressed her. She moaned and purred like the content cat she was, long legs draped across his body. Finally he released her, and she stumbled into the large bathroom, looking at herself in the mirror. Her face was a mess, but the contentment in her eyes was clear. Wow. That was great sex.

She cleaned herself up, trying to calculate her next move. The decision got easier when he wrapped his arms around her from behind, kissing her. His hands moved to her tits, rolling her nipples, and pulling them.

"You are a beautiful woman." His eyes roamed her body, admiring the symmetry in her features, the fire in her big eyes, the swell of her hips, her slender legs reaching down to the floor.

"Thank you. You're pretty easy on the eyes yourself."

He kissed down her back, tonguing her ass, and she moaned. Lifting her up, he turned her and sat her on the counter. Again he slipped between her legs, and she cried out his name, fingers running through his hair, pulling him this and that way to direct her. It was truly skilled in that area, and apparently enjoyed doing it.

Carrying her into the shower, he let her slide to her knees to return the favor, the wet feeling of her mouth a truly divine experience. She was equally talented her, and she knew it. Her mouth moved back and forth, up and down, sliding across his cock in easy motions as she fondled his balls. He groaned and moaned, letting her take him places he had not been in a long, long time.

His fingers ran through her wet hair, the water pouring down on them from the rainspout shower head, his legs buckling, balls churning, the noises from her mouth driving him crazy. Pulling her up, he stopped it before it went to far. "Not like that. I want you again."

"Whatever you want, I'm yours." They kissed, long and hard, then he turned her around. She placed her hands against the wall, bending over, pushing up onto her tipsy-toes. He entered her from behind, and again they were connected, enjoying one another and the heights they took each other to.

"How did your date with Spencer go?" Allison shared the tiny cubicle with Amber, the two of them being students together in the accounting program, and fellow interns here at the accounting firm. So they were fast friends, and shared all their exploits.

"I would not call it a date. He was drunk before I had taken my coat off, and made a complete idiot of himself. I left, found this really cool bar upstairs in the hotel though. Beautiful view of the city." She did not mention her tryst with Jonathan, not really sure why. "But he had the nerve to call me on Sunday, and complain that I left him hanging. Apparently he had big hopes for the night, and a hotel room."

"How classy. Can I have my lipstick back now?" The girls laughed as Amber dug into her purse. It was actually her lipstick, but Allison had been wearing it the night they were out at the bars, and she meet her now boyfriend of almost a year.

Amber found the round tin, and pulled it out, handing it to her friend. Something fluttered out of her purse when she did so, but Allison ignored it laughing with glee at being able to sport her favorite color again. She was not sure why, but Amber had a secret power in selecting and finding lipsticks. Watching her friend suitably distracted, Amber bent down and picked up what she now realized was a check. Her eyes widened, and she stuffed it in her purse, spinning towards her computer to hide her face. She had to get to a phone. A private phone.

He could tell by the ringer that it was the private line that rang straight through, not the one that his secretary Madeline might intercept up at her desk. She served an important function as gatekeeper, but something's had to come straight in. So he picked up the handset, hit the green button labeled "personal", and pulled it to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Should I be offended?"

"I was hoping you would call. Dinner tonight?"

"What?"

"You were in a bit of a hurry Saturday morning, so I didn't have time to talk to you. I would like to talk to you." He did not add that he had known better then to try to stop her. Girls her age were impulsive, and once in motion, he tried not to get in the way. Just let them run their course, and once they are out of steam, you can step in.

"Well…it was that post sex awkwardness! You were talking about breakfast and shit."

"I wanted to stay in bed with you all day." His voice made her cream herself, the thought of what that could have meant breathtaking.

"Pick me up at seven."

She had not been entirely sure what to wear, so after some deliberation with her two roommates, she had decided on a simple black dress, and heels. He arrived right on the dot at seven, so she was obviously not ready. Tammy made small talk with the gentleman in the living room, and she could hear her friend laughing after dropping of the flowers he had brought. The questioning look in her eyes told Amber everything she needed to know, but she just shook her head as a form of response. She would explain later.

Finally she got her earrings in, and they headed downstairs. The car was a BMW 745I, and she commented that she had expected a Lincoln Town car.

"Why?"

"I don't know. That's what old people drive."

"Damn. That's cold."

The place was a small affair downtown, with a name that looked Italian, but could have been French or Cambodian for all she knew. Jonathan was greeted by the Maitre'D like they were long lost brothers, then ushered to a small booth in the back. A bottle of wine was brought, and she watched him sniff the cork, nod to the waiter, and then pour them each a glass, ordering what was probably an appetizer in a language she did not understand.

"What was that?"

"Portuguese."

"You speak Portuguese?"

"Ex-wife is Brazilian."

"Really?"

"No, I just made that up." He smiled, and for a second she was not sure if he was kidding or not. So she let it go, and smiled back. His hands crept across the table, covering hers, and pulling them close to him. Her scent was intoxicating to him, and he kissed her red nails, tasting her skin.

"I did not mean to offend you. But you kinda shot my conversational plan in the foot when you suddenly got in high gear and burst out the door."

"Yeah well…it's not everyday I'm sitting at work, and I realize that the man I got lucky with that weekend slipped me a couple grand."

"Listen…Amber…you are beautiful young woman. You can have any man you want. And you could probably be happy with many of them. That is not what I'm offering."

"What are you laying down?"

"A offer of a different kind. I've been married once, been in a couple of other long term things, and I realize now that I'm not interested in that whole thing. I do want the female companionship, the intimacy, I want somebody to enjoy art and travel with, somebody who shares interest with me, somebody who will sit next to me when Aida comes to town, and who knows what I'm talking about, somebody who is intelligent and conversational, attractive to look at, and who will let me spoil them rotten, and be at my beck and call."

"You're not married, are you? I've been down that road before, and I'm not going back."

"No. I would not ask that of you."

"So…what? And how do you know I have all those qualities."

"I am a good judge of such things. I will pay you to be mine. I don't want any emotional bullshit. I don't want conversations about our feelings, or long term plans. I don't want to hear about headaches, heartaches, or your feelings. I want to buy companionship."

"You want an escort?"

"No. An escort is somebody who goes to dinner with you, and if you tip her really well she'll suck your cock in the back of the limo, then imply you to call her again next time you are in town."

"I take it you have been with one before."

"I try not to remember that period of my life."

"Sorry." She meant it, and he could tell in her eyes. He loved those eyes. He seemed to get lost in the deep green every time, the fire inside attracting him. God, he loved to play with that fire. "So not an escort…a concubine?"

"Why are you so intent on naming it? I want you. I do. I don't want any bullshit. I want you to be exclusively available for my cock, whenever I call. Screw the name."

"Well…if you put it that way…"

"And I love to eat pussy."

"When do we start?"

It was a lot less crass then she had thought. He was his charming self through dinner, and it was as if a layer had been stripped away, and he was more relaxed, finally himself. They laughed a lot, and she finally learned what he did for a living. When they ended up back at her place, it was not something either expected, but that happened because it was meant to happen, they had built that much sexual tension all night long.

She was beautiful in the moonlight falling through the window, her skin flawless when she stepped out of her dress. She let him tease her so long, then used muscles he did not know she had to push him down on the bed, and mounted him. It was his turn to scream as she rocked his world. He felt like he would drown in her ample breasts, and he could not think of a sweeter death.

Falling into the sheets drenched in sweat, barely able to breath he felt her kissing him, giving him what he had given her other night. It was a slow dance, a continuous give and take, a back and forth that left them both wanting more, and her underneath him, her ass pressing up into his crotch, his cock buried deep in her. It was her turn again to cry out as he enjoyed her tightness once more. She was amazed by his stamina, as he was amazed by her athletic abilities and flexibility. It was a beautiful event, one neither would soon forget.

This was important stuff. Really. There would be a test on it at some undetermined point in the future. Professor Soren never announced his tests ahead of time, so you had to go to every class, and be ready to be tested at any given point. She should be reading it. Should be studying it. Should be FOCUSED! But her mind was not in it.

Pushing the book away, she looked around the lobby of the student union building. Around her, other students were struggling with their own academic pursuits, while others rushed from class to class, trying to grab a bite to eat, coming in and out of the rain outside, shaking like wet dogs. She loved college.

She had claimed one of the leather lazy boys as her own, books and such spread around her, laptop on her lap, logged into the schools wireless network. She cast a last glance at the page, but Accounting 220 was not holding her attention today.

Instead she pulled up her bank account again, and stared at the screen. She had never at one point in her life had that much money. Wow. Pulling out her cell phone, she dialed his number again, waiting for his voice to reach through the ether.

"Hello?"

"I got a question."

"Can I just answer it? Every two weeks, direct deposit, check, cash, whatever you want. You can throw out a number, and we'll talk about it. The check I gave you is a signing bonus, and what I would consider a normal payment."

"But it's so much!"

"If you want less then that, if that is what you are more comfortable with, that's fine, too. Whatever you want here, baby."

"Half. But you still have to pay for everything when we go out." She enjoyed that part. She had always been old fashioned that way. If she went out with a man, he should pick up the tab.

"Naturally. We say half, I pay for everything, and I get to take you shopping once a month. We'll shake on it."

"You busy right now?"

"Never to busy for my sweet piece of ass. What are you wearing?"

"A skirt, crop top and heels. You'll like it."

The building was easy enough to find, holding the distinctive jukebox shape, and being the third tallest in a row of office towers that dominated the skyline of uptown. One of several towers that the banks had stomped out of the ground, the restaurant located at its apex was much more famous then Reflections, but lacked its ambiance. She had been to Upstairs before.

But today she pulled around to the ramp that lead underneath the building, rolling to a stop at the security barrier next to the guard shack. The uniformed man leaned out, handing her a green parking pass. He must have been expecting her. "Go down the ramp to the deck marked Zebra, it's the second one down. Then hang a right, and go to the far wall. The spots are marked reserved, and have green spade looking things painted on them. Pick any open one, and hang the tag in your rearview mirror."

She thanked him, then slowly descended into the darkness. His directions were right on, and she spotted Jonathans Beemer at a spot right next to the elevator. Good location, she thought as she waited for the doors to slide apart. She had to walk across the lobby, then ascend another elevator to the thirtieth floor. That would be a bitch if they had a fire drill, she thought.

The doors opened, presenting another lobby. From floor to ceiling this one screamed that you had stepped into a place with money to spend, meant to impress with accents, subtleties, and hidden charms. The receptionist sat behind a wood and steel counter, her headset small and almost invisible in her blond mane. A massive waterfall sat across from the elevator, with bronze letters proclaiming "Enders, Games & Robinson Capital Group, P.A." Wow, he had his name on the wall. Looking deeper into the lobby, she could see a sitting area with large leather couches, a glass wall that allowed you to see down onto the city, and wide spiral staircase that took you further up.

The look the receptionist gave her was one of skepticism when she said that she was there to see Mr. Games. It turned to straight disbelief when she called upstairs, and was told to have the lady please wait, somebody would be down shortly.

The person that came down was an elderly lady, dressed in a purple kind of suit that women of her generation wore to work in offices, and other professional places. She had a massive smile on her face, and somehow Amber just pictured her making the grandkids happy on Christmas morning.

"You must be Amber!" Her way of greeting was a hug, which took the young woman by surprise. "Come, come. So glad to meet you. Mr. Games told me all about you. I'm Madeleine."

"You work with him?"

"I'm his secretary." They headed up the stairs as Amber firmly banished the "dick-tation" image she had envisioned for his slut-retary. So much for that idea. Showed how much she had to learn about him. "I've worked for Mr. Games for almost twenty years now. He always tells me to call him Jonathan, but how would that look after all this time! When he first started at the bank across town, I worked for him, and he took me with him whenever he started moving up. When he started this company with his friends, he brought me over."

"Wow."

"Yeah, I have certain skills he finds essential?"

"Such as?" She had probably been young when they had first started, she imagined, remembering that Jonathan was at least in his forties…

"I can read his hand writing. It's atrocious. His mother always tells me that she wanted him to be a doctor. It would fit so much better." The woman laughed, an infectious loud laughter of a woman who liked to laugh.

They went up four floors, and Madeline pointed out that she liked to use the stairs to help her stay young. Not that she seemed to need it, the woman had the energy of somebody half her age, and talked at a mile a minute about how great Mr. Games was as an employer and a human being, and how glad she was that he had found somebody to make him happy. "As long as you are not a witch in disguise, like his ex-wife. I'll scratch your eyes out." The announcement was followed by more laughter, and Amber was not sure how serious to take it.

They came to the proverbial corner office, with a large outer office, which held Madeleins Desk and a large sitting area. The double doors stood open, and she ushered her chargeling inside, closing the doors behind her.

Amber took the time to look around before approaching him. Two walls were glass, allowing a view down onto the city and other buildings around. She knew that they were mirrored from the outside, but from up here, they looked clear as day. The carpet was thick and firm under her shoes, muffling her steps as she approached him. There were two doors recessed, semi-concealed in one of the real walls, and there was another seating arrangement in one corner. These people liked to hang out. There was a small bar in one corner, along with a long conference table.

His desk was massive, covered in papers, magazines, and spreadsheets. The chair behind it looked huge, but slightly worn. He was standing with his back to her, talking on the phone, the cord wrapped around his shoulder as he looked down on the city.

She snuck up behind him, kissing his neck softly as she wrapped her arms around him. She could see his smile in the reflection in the glass. Slowly she traced her fingers down his body as she slithered around him, kissing his jaw and neck. He turned his head slightly, still talking into the phone as she inhaled his scent, wanting more.

Slowly she sank to her knees, finding him already hard and ready to be released. She slowly pulled down the zipper, reached inside, and giggled with glee at what she found. Her dear friend had missed her, and she could tell by the tear it shed. Licking up the precum, she kissed it gently, then slowly sucked it into the back of her throat.

He almost gasped out loud, leaning his forehead against the glass, his free hand grabbing her hair. She took her time, sliding him back and forth in her mouth, her balls feeling his heavy balls, one finger teasing and sliding across his ass.

When her eyes looked up, she could see that his were screwed shut, his face beet red, breathing barely under control. He was talking about cost overruns, development timelines, something she did not care about right now. All that mattered to her was the feeling between her lips, his fat cock sliding across her teeth as she carefully closed them down, the head in the back of her throat spasming as she swallowed.

To himself he admitted that she was a very skilled cocksucker. The feeling of her tightly pursed lips, the sensation of her teeth dragging across wanting skin, the thing she did with the back of her throat (he had never experienced that, and he loved it!), the feeling of her nails scratching his balls. It combined itself into an experience that he did not want to end, a feeling that was heavenly.

His mind was a very organized, very tightly disciplined place. He was able to shut down just about everything, and focus clearly on tasks at hand that needed to be accomplished. He had great processing power between his ears, enough to grind through most problems that involved numbers and money with ease, and come to a solution that solved whatever problem he was currently facing.

But it was failing him, and failing fast. He had to get off the phone, and he knew it as he felt his cock twitching in her mouth. His legs felt like they might fail him, something he was used to when she used his mouth on him. But it still always took him by surprise.

He slammed the receiver down, crying out as his cock shook in her mouth, shooting wad after wad of hot cum down her throat. She squealed, grabbing his hips, pulling him deeper into her throat, sucking him clean. It was unbelievable, as she licked him clean, and he collapsed into his chair, breathing heavy.

She climbed onto his lap, kissing him long and hard, cuddling up to her man, feeling him. They sat together, kissing and touching one another, until she pushed away, climbing onto the desk. Lying back on her elbows, she spread her legs, flashing him with the lacy white thong she was wearing, putting her heels on his shoulders.