Ascending Lauren Ch. 22

"You did well," he remarked, handing her one. "Let's get the discussions written up and presented to the board by Wednesday."

Leaning over to clink a toast, Lauren nodded appreciatively. "Thank you. I'll have a draft to you by Monday afternoon." Knowing she had employed a little flirting to soften up a couple of the owners, she added, "I hope I didn't cross any boundaries."

"Nonsense. All's fair in love and war. And make no mistake. Big business is war. Besides," Jones chuckled, "I think those lines were crossed with Detrevrup and Polymer Thermoset, don't you?"

Lauren knew full well he was aware of exactly how she got Stretch Madison and Angel Tagliatelle to sign contract extensions. Several more miles and sips went by before summoning the courage to ask what was really on her mind.

"So, while we're on the subject, have I proven myself worthy of Jose's Operations vacancy?"

Jones took another drink and smacked his lips. "Hmm, great wine. I didn't know we were on the subject."

"That's not an answer."

Stephan poured them both another glass and looked at his junior matter-of-factly. "Honestly? Yes, you have the chops. You're smart, engaged, and take ownership of everything you touch. And yet, any VP at my table needs to have discretion."

"I don't?"

"Did you during the audit prep?"

Lauren looked surprised. "Audit prep? What's that have to do with anything?"

Jones fixed her with an amused stare. "At the Hotel Majestic. More specifically, the garage of the Hotel Majestic."

She suddenly remembered the tryst with the Turkish salesman in his rental...and the mature couple that had happened by. For just a few seconds, the older gentlemen had paused and leered.

"You," her mouth fell open. "It was you."

"What can I say? They have a great duck on Thursdays. Although the special on level P2 looked better. But the point is not my palette nor what you do on your own time. It's your discretion. Do what you want but do it behind closed doors. I could have easily been someone you work with, especially those in the rank and file who would love to get dirt on their boss. People have blackmailed others for less."

Lauren stared out the window. "Your right," she admitted, "it won't happen again."

"It mustn't."

"I promise, I'll be more careful."

Emptying the bottle of red wine into his glass, the old man leaned over and placed a hand on his sexy manager's knee, fingers lightly caressing it through dark nylon. The sudden touch startled her, forcing her eyes away from the scenery outside to his boney knuckles. He nodded towards the front of the limo.

"You could start by proving your understanding now."

At first, she wasn't quite sure what that meant. Following her boss's gaze to Jules who was busy expertly navigating traffic, it took a minute for the meaning to sink in. As it became clear, Lauren leaned over to a panel housing a switch that read 'Partition Up' and pressed it. Almost immediately a soundproof screen began to rise from the floorboard, separating the rear seating from the front. This was followed by the driver's voice.

"Everything okay, sir?"

"Yes, yes, fine," Stephan barked back, never taking his eyes off the darkness between Lauren's knees. "Take the long way back to the office, please."

"Of course, sir."

Hoo boy, that's really discrete Hoss, she thought rolling her eyes. There was no doubt the old man wanted to play a little; the problem was...his wife.

"Why, Mr. Jones, you're married. I don't mess with married men."

"That's very noble of you, my lady. But do most married men sign your paycheck? Besides, she hasn't touched me in years."

Can I call 'em or what?

Setting her drink down, Lauren returned his stare and slowly began to separate her knees until the tight skirt and hosiery stopped any further widening. Unzipping the side provided a little additional room, just enough to lift her ass from the cushion and wiggle the material up to her waist. While her boss ogled the exposed nylon and panty-covered crotch, she proceeded to rub it for several minutes until a wet spot appeared in the cotton briefs and the aroma of her juices filled the car.

"Let me see it," Stephan sat forward, eyeballs bulging. "Show me." For over half a year, the chief executive had watched the gamy woman waddle around the office in professional yet sexy clothing, wondering what she looked like naked. And now here her beaver was nearly exposed in front of him.

Using one hand to pull the hosiery away, Lauren used the other to ease the panties to one side, causing her labia to present a very visible and shiny cameltoe.

"It's beautiful," the CEO gasped, unsurprised to see the smooth lips. She always struck him as a slut.

Glancing at the driver, Lauren could see through the one-way screen that he was still engrossed in battling other drivers, completely oblivious to what was happening in the back.

You want discretion, huh? 

"Come here," the office manager beckoned.

Jones struggled a bit but was eventually able to slide to the floorboard, his old kneecaps trembling with discomfort. Lauren placed her hand on the back of his head and guided it between her legs. Nose inches from her aromatic treasure, he sniffed the hosiery, noting the wetness now seeping through the nylon and seeping onto the seat. Arching her back, the soaked material barely touched his face, glazing it with warm and sticky juices. Stephan's tongue darted out, making contact with the fine fabric, lapping up the sweet acidic liquid as if it was life-giving. And maybe it was. The notion of her boss paying homage to her pussy, his tongue pressing the nylon into her slit, was so hot on so many levels.

"Sit down," Lauren commanded, managing to find her voice.

The senior executive pulled back, a bit surprised. He was not used to others giving him orders. Wiping a glistening chin on the sleeve of his suitcoat, the CEO was about to scold her when she planted both feet on the edge of the cushions and splayed her legs wide. With the panties still pulled aside beneath the tight hose, Lauren caressed her hairless slit over the material, gyrating her hips to the movement.

"Mmm," came the moans, mouth slightly parted.

With two fingers, she spread the thin lips, exposing the pink of a very wet butterfly.

"Goddamn," Stephan uttered, rubbing the erection that was pressing against suit pants that just seemed too small now. For a man with little eroticism in his life, seeing that pussy hiding behind dark hosiery made it even more erotic.

Slipping a hand beneath the material, the nylon snapped back to contour around Lauren's poised knuckles. As an astonished Jones watched and tightened his grip around his polyester bulge, he saw the outline of her middle finger disappear into a very bald cunt. Then in went the index.

"Will I be your next VP?" Lauren asked pointedly.

When the old man didn't answer, a foot brushed his crotch. "Take it out."

Stephan looked hesitantly at the one-way. Although he knew Jules couldn't see anything beyond his own reflection, nor would the driver disclose anything he saw, it always felt very awkward. With a pervy, self-indulged grin, he unbuckled and unzipped, then raised his stinky fat ass to drop trousers and briefs to rather formidable cankles below.

Returning his smile, Lauren caressed his erection, allowing the nylon to graze the wrinkled shaft. Jones stared at her pussy while she masturbated and plied his cock with her foot. The mesh felt like fine linen, causing the stiff dick to bounce on its own. Soon, precum began to leak.

"Am I the next VP?"

"P-P-Perhaps."

"Not good enough, Stephan."

"Then perhaps you'd care to seal the deal in a way I know you must be very good at, Mrs. Miller?"

Lauren stopped fingering herself and smirked. The next step had been inevitable. And he was right, it wouldn't be the first negotiation brokered with her mouth. With the sexiest of pouts, she slid to her knees, skirt falling back into place. Looking down at the hard but crinkled dick surrounded by a forest of unkept pubic hair and liver spots, she steeled herself, remembering the rather foul odor associated with another geriatric blowjob, that damned nosey Harvey, the concierge. Drawing her hair back, she descended on her boss's dick, first licking the dollop of clear fluid oozing from the head, then lowering her lips around it, tongue swirling against the aging skin.

The texture was that of old leather, but thankfully, unlike with Harvey, there was little odor, probably a testament to the CEO's meticulous hygiene. Up and down her boss' shaft she went, deciding it wasn't as unpleasant as anticipated. For a man in his seventies, his cock wasn't terrible; not at all like her doorman. Although now only five inches, she could tell it once had stood much longer and wider in its day. For the briefest of moments - just a tiny one, mind you - Lauren wondered what it would be like to ride the old bastard.

"That's it, Miller, suck it. Suck it hard. That's a good VP."

Alternating his gaze between the back of the woman's head and that of Jules up front driving, was the ultimate in power trips for the very powerful man. One employee driving and the other on her knees sucking him off. Life was good.

"Mmmmffff."

Hoping for a quick finish, Lauren increased the pace, bobbing with earnest and deep-throating as much as possible. His grunts increased as flabby hips began thrusting at her face and the quiet of the limo filled with voracious slurps, swallows, and heavy breathing. As with all men, Jones was lost in the skills she had perfected over the last few months. Several times, his pelvis lunged forward greedily, and the brunette readied herself, only to have him sink back into the seat, groaning in disappointment. His struggle to get off was obvious, a theme she was beginning to see for men his age. For the next several miles, mouth and cock danced, her lips building his cock to a climax time and time again, only for him to stall at the cliff. It soon became clear he, like the others, was going to need more to get him to jump.

Use your head and words, her friend Amy whispered somewhere from afar.

At a crossroads, Lauren began thinking of her next move, which on the surface, was only logical. Unfortunately, this having been a work-related day trip - with her boss no less - bringing a condom had not crossed her mind. Now what?

Pregnancy wasn't a concern, of course. Early menopause had taken care of that, and it was likely the decrepit old coot was shooting blanks anyway. Plus, given his age, any deliberating STDs would have surely killed him off by now.

Determined to put the final seal on the upcoming VP job, she slithered along the old man's withered legs and tugged her skirt up once again. Without hesitation, Lauren poked a hole in her leggings and ripped them open. Sacrificing a pair of hose was well worth the payoff. Straddling his plump waist, she moved a roll of fat out of the way and guided his saliva-coated dick passed soaked panties and into her waiting hole. A low guttural moan came from the CEO's open mouth as he looked into her eyes. Wrapping hands around his neck, she began fucking him, increasing the pace while giving him the best cowgirl he would ever experience. Burying his bald head into her chest, she pressed flush cheeks against the car window behind him, her fiery eyes watching the traffic go by while crashing her hips into his, over and over and over again. Occasionally a motorist would look over and hold her gaze as if they could see through the smoky glass and know what she was doing.

Laser-focused now, Lauren humped the mature penis with wild abandon, making sure it impaled her fully and deeply with every downstroke. One time she almost thought she had him cumming, only to be interrupted by the intercom.

"Sir, we're a couple of minutes from the office."

Huffing and puffing, sweating from mutual exertion, both junior and senior executives glanced toward the screen, cheek to cheek now.

"For God's sake, Jules, go around the block until I tell you to stop."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

Lauren was relentless, slamming into the old man repeatedly. She'd pull up until the tip of his dick was barely in, then plunge again, causing Stephan to bellow. Putting her forehead against his, the two stared into their very souls.

"Do you like my pussy, Mr. Jones?"

The look told it all. It was the one most men gave her.

"Better than your wife's old dried-up cunt?"

"A...a thousand times yes!"

"Then fuck me, fuck your hot willing company whore. There's a lot more of this waiting when our offices are on the same floor, Stephan. Pussy on tap."

"Whore..." he managed to wheeze, wide-eyed.

"Yes, your own...personal...whore."

"OH, SHIT MILLER!"

The pair continued to labor together, and although Lauren did most of the work, she was impressed by how much stamina he actually had. Outside the luxury car, the bustling streets of downtown Miami were oblivious to the morning and groaning within, as a rising corporate manager literally fucked her way to the top. Slowly, the passion grew in the CEO's expression and his mouth opened in small gasps, like a fish trying to breathe out of water.

"I'm...I'm."

"Yes, Stephan, yes! Give it to me," Lauren whispered, their skin slapping together, echoing throughout the cabin. "Fill me with what your wife no longer wants."

Eyes widening, the pot-marked face went limp, as if years of deeply repressed feelings were suddenly released.

"GRRRRRRRRRR AHHHHHH GAAHHHHHH!"

With rapid wheezing and almost dangerous hyperventilation, Stephan Jones came hard. Lauren could feel a surprising amount of hot semen pumped directly into her unprotected pussy. Like a good lover, she held him tight until her muscles milked the last drop from his. Confident he was drained, the foxy negotiator pivoted off him and back to her seat across the aisle, pulling her cotton panties into place, assuring they would soak up most of the evidence. Minutes later, torn hosiery in her purse, she was smiling, all put back together and ready to face the rest of the workday.

"Was that discrete enough?"

The question was met by a thoroughly blank look as Jules pulled up in front of Rekrap headquarters.

"Well?"

"His retirement party is next month," Jones replied, finding himself and tightening his tie. "I'll make the announcement after the dinner."

A burst of sunlight and warm air displaced the darkness and air conditioning of the backseat as the driver opened the large door curbside. Assisting Lauren in getting out with an extended hand, he asked if the trip has been fruitful.

With a wink and a nod, the beautiful minx simply smirked. "Thank you, Jules. And yes, it was most profitable indeed."

+++++

Corey turned off the vacuum and cocked his head to one side, listening. He could have sworn he'd heard his phone ringing. Having just got home from work, the evening's chores included dusting and cleaning, which he was committed to. Sunday at noon, and the open house, would be there before he knew it.

Then came the ringtone again. Following the sound to the kitchen, he snatched up the device and answered. It was Caroline.

"Hi Daddy," she said cheerfully, unaware that her fling with Zane was no longer a secret.

"Hi Cee," her father responded slowly, trying to unsee Lauren twirling his daughter's panties around a finger while questioning the biker.

"So, you ready?"

Corey's mind took him to a darker place than he would have liked. Snapping out of it, he told her he was always glad to hear from her. "As ready as ever, I guess. The realtor is coming in tomorrow to help stage a few things. But yeah."

"When are you moving the family heirlooms?"

"After the house sells. No sense in paying for storage before we have to."

"Makes sense. Well, whenever you move, me and DeAndre will fly in and help."

"DeAndre?"

"A guy I've been seeing. He's an ironworker. His company was building a new wing on the school I work at. Saw me eating a sandwich in the outside break area a few weeks ago and asked me out."

Corey searched his memory banks. "What about, eh, Bernard?"

"Nah, he's history, the jerk."

"Ah. Okay. Well, you don't have to come all the way here, you know." He purposefully didn't mention that Zane would also be helping. What an awkward situation that would be.

"Nonsense, I know you aren't as spry as you used to be, and DeAndre's a giant. Seriously, he's like a freak of nature. Popeye arms and everything."

Corey was afraid to ask what 'everything' meant. "Um..."

"Plus, he's never seen an ocean. Can you imagine that? Never seen an ocean? So, it's settled. We'll fly in, rent a car, load your U-Haul and drive down there with you. That way we can help unload and then hang out on the beach with you and Mom for a few days."

"Eh, sure, Sweetie, whatever you want. You're the boss."

Caroline had to smile at that one. Yes, Father, we all know the women in your life are the boss. During the day you're the big shot, but behind closed doors, we all know who calls the shots."

"Great! Let's hope it sells quickly. I can't wait for you to meet DeAndre."

"Me either."

As the two were wrapping up their conversation, Corey felt his phone buzzing against his cheek. It was Lauren video-calling.

"I have to go, Cee, it's Mom."

"Okay, bye Daddy!"

Selecting the Hang up and Answer option, he was met with a blurred view of a wooden roof and spinning ceiling fan. Loud Latin pop music was playing in the background. Suddenly Lauren's face came into focus, staring down into the frame.

"Hi babe!"

Corey wiggled his fingers at his phone. She sounded a little tipsy. "Hey."

The video was herky-jerky at best. One second there was a view of the setting sun from around her pool, the next a view of the tiki bar with people milling around. Now her forehead.

"You'll never believe what I just won at the residents' happy hour!"

Recalling that every Thursday, management threw the event from five to seven on the rooftop of the luxury apartment building, he shook his head. "Another coozy?"

"No silly!" Lauren rolled her eyes. "LOOK!"

A pair of what might have been sporting or concert tickets were shaking in her hand, but no way he could read the wording. "For what?"

"Winter Death! Can you believe it?"

Corey's eyes widened. WD was one of their very favorite hair metal bands from years gone past. For the most part, Lauren was a Duran Duran girl, but every chick had a hair band they loved and this was hers.

"Shut up, really? When?"

"Tomorrow night at the Palatial Palace. Sadistic Beaver is the warmup."

His face fell. He was really hoping it was after he moved next week. "Oh man, that stinks."

It was so not fair! And at such a small venue too. In their heyday, the bare-chested leather-clad group of five filled arenas with their melodic metal. But sadly, over the years, as interest in the genre declined, and new material was nonexistent, the band's relevancy was relegated to that of a supporting act on the classic rock tours. Still, Winter Death flat-out rocked. He wasn't quite sure who the opener was; probably one of those neo-metal bands that toured the country these days trying to keep the music alive.

"You should go, though," Corey urged.

"I don't know about that. There is absolutely no one here that likes that kind of music."

"C'mon, you can't pass up free tics. Besides, you look great in leather."

Lauren smiled. That she did. And she had a closet full of gear that would make any rock groupie jealous. Black leathers, that thick grommet belt, thigh-high boots. Everything to make a statement at a heavy metal show.

But exactly what would that statement be?[