Alan in the Office Ch. 03

Elle came, not too loud -- let us not wake Chad. "Oh. Oh. Ohhh..."

She came again, a little louder. "Oh, fuck me, oh that's nice, ahhh..."

Her cumming accompanied a continuous litany. "Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck omigod..."

Her last orgasmic spasm finally triggered my overdue eruption. We grunted together as I squirted a never-ending stream of adventurous sperm into her uterus. Overflow!

We gasped, and cleaned, and dressed, and drove on.

Chad did not wake till we were crossing the Bay Bridge at Treasure Island.

"Oh man, we're here already? Wow, I just missed everything. Far out!"

I dropped the pair downtown -- they could catch city Muni busses to get home -- and got into my Financial District office as though returning from a late lunch.

It was an ordinary afternoon. Another boring cross-platform integration meeting. Veronica sat next to me at the conference table again. She was nodding off again. I fingered her vulva again to keep her awake. Just another day.

-----

Sylvie put Operation Watertight phase II into action.

Bribery produced a good-enough corpse in El Paso, of all places. She apparently was a call girl who overdosed. The poor victim was shipped on ice to Minneapolis to be 'discovered' in a cheap motel room.

Another bribe had the body identified as Andrea. This was back before DNA tests, so only forged medical records and a little more cash were needed.

Andrea's 'death' was a national Page Nine sensation for about six hours, then was lost in the shuffle of the news cycle's usual atrocities. (Do not get me started on what the Reagan administration was doing then.)

Our friends on Grant Avenue said Andrea was the buzz of Chinatown for a few days. Then the PLA-vs-tongs war took other turns, and she was mostly forgotten.

Sylvie relocated STUDIO S to Miami Beach a few weeks later. That was an easy move; just Sylvie, and Signe, and Andrea's designs to date, and a few bales of dresses and such stuff. And she found secure ID and location for Andrea, whose new name was Alicia Martinez.

Sylvie called me to report on the move.

"We had a couple minor glitches but we're pretty well moved-in now," she sang. "A couple weeks more, and we'll be back in full swing."

"Any people problems there? Any gang problems?" I wanted to know.

"Oh, I had no trouble recruiting new assembly and graphics and marketing teams. The Miami area has a pretty good talent pool. And we haven't come to the attention of the Cuban mafiya. I don't think they'll bother us.

"We have some big advantages being here over the Bay Area. We have great Haitian and Dominican seamstresses, and we can setup larger production runs pretty cost-effectively around the Caribbean. High-quality fabrics cost less here. We can job-out accessories cheap to local ateliers, don't have to make it all ourselves.

"Of course, we also have the fucking heat and humidity, and we can look forward to hurricanes. And there's all those batshit-crazy Cuban counter-revolutionary commando wannabees who're gonna overthrow Castro next week. Yeah, right.

"Andrea (we call her Alicia now) and Signe and I sure miss the Bay Area vibe and weather and culture, they're all totally different here, and we sure do miss YOU guys. But we'll survive and thrive here, I'm sure of it."

My turn. "Moira and I are tied up with Gnosis for the next few weeks but we'll fly out to see you some weekend. Don't worry, we'll give you some warning so you can clean up your act, hide all the dancing boys," I teased.

"What, you'd make me give them up? Miguel will be devastated! But hey, when you get here, I'll see if I can have some Havana cigars for you. Can you be bribed?"

"Easily, baby. You know I'm cheap. A good cigar, a glass of rum, a hot woman or three, and the latest workstation, that's all I need," I laughed.

"Done! Just bring your own woman along for the fun. See ya soon!"

-----

Life went on. Moira and I had friends over to our condo most nights, for fun and frolic. We flew to Miami about once a month to check on business and for more fun and frolic. This was long before MIAMI VICE; the scene there was still being invented, a heady mix of sex, drugs, mambo and salsa, money, guns, and fantasy.

Moira and I were still rising functionaries at Gnosis. We kept finding new ways for (other people's) money to make money. We were stars, but in a small galaxy.

Not that it was not fun. We were well paid, richly bonused, got perks, all that stuff. And the work was interesting -- well, as interesting as other people's money can be. Moira and I do not worship money. We just love how it lubricates life's frictions.

Were we bored with the Bay Area, tempted by the Miami scene? Maybe a little. Our monthly visits sure were spicy. But oh shit, the weather! And the lunatics!

I was at home and on the phone to Sylvie. She asked if I had thought about moving east. I told her:

"Look babe, I'm a California boy, born and raised. Yeah, I've been all over, in many different environments around the country and the world. But here in USA, the truth is: The West is the best. To me, the area east of the Rockies is just about fucking uninhabitable. Yet people live there anyway. Go figure."

"You're kind of cutting yourself off from a lot, aren't you?" Sylvie laughed.

"Sturgeon's Law: ninety-five percent of everything is crap. I'll apply that to geography as well as to literature, politics, and food. Maybe sex, too. I'm happy with the best five percent, not the rest of the crud."

"Are you becoming an elitist pig, Alan? Not that I won't love you anyway, dipshit," Sylvie giggled.

"I'll be sure to send you sweet valentines, right as the next hurricane blows you away, babe."

"Always the sweet-talker, Alan! That's cool. I'll keep a storm shelter warm and cozy for you. Sweet dreams!"

I hung up the phone and turned back to the slurpy scene in our condo's mirrored living room. Nobody was in the wide hanging swing. I had expected that.

My Celtic beauty Moira lay back on the biggest plush couch with Xenia's dark wiry Greek pussy feeding her face and Suzanne's busy Belizean mouth buried in my wife's auburn crotch.

Xenia gasped under the Moira's tongue-lashing; her nearly prehensile feet twitched madly. Suzy's chocolate weight-lifter's arms wrapped firmly around Moira's thighs. Her amazing athletic ass poked high in the air.

That ass looked mighty inviting to me. I joined the fun.

First, I had to ensure Suzanne's sultry slot was in a prime state of fuckable readiness. I gently stroked and probed between her tremendous thighs. Yes, wet; but wet enough?

Try the tongue test. My lingual probe was successful, both as a taste treat, and for generating a happy response: Suzy dripped even more, and groaned, and spread.

This was quite encouraging. I was already naked and hard. Yes, I had stroked myself to stiffness. My potential fluffers *were* occupied, after all.

I tongued Suzanne even more, savoring her smoky juicy flavors and the exquisite softness of her labia and vagina. She shuddered in appreciation. My tongue explored further, and found her clitoris, and abused it till she yelled into Moira's muff.

I was ready. I moved behind Suzanne. I brushed my dickhead around her puffed-out labia, playing with the soft folds, teasing her portal, feinting in and out just a bit. Her butt vibrated, surely a demand for more.

And more is what she got. I eased into her, sliding slowly, directly, inexorably deep. I pushed into her cervix. Suzy squawked happily. I grunted, and stayed in place, keeping her filled.

Then I started moving. Long slow deep strokes, mixed with short fast shallow pokes, with occasional near-pullouts and quick deep thrusts, and then prolonged pounding.

And more pounding. And finally cum, sweat, and tears, with accompanying bellowing.

Suzanne rolled away from between Moira's thighs. Not one to waste an opportunity, Xenia moved into a 69 atop Moira. Their slurping and groaning continued unabated. Suzy rolled on top of me for a 69 of our own. I tasted our mixed juices. I felt her mouth working miracles on my well-used cock. I felt my excitement rise again.

Life was GOOD here! No, I do not think we shall move to Miami.

-----

NEXT: Stay tuned for the further adventures of Alan In The Office.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I have yet to finish reading, editing, and adapting Ron's notes about Alan's adventures, and stories told by others of his friends. Expect more posted accounts. Your feedback is more than welcome.