Charlotte's Free Weekend

© September 2022 PennameWombat

The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

This is my just under the deadline entry for the Literotica 2022 Summer Lovin contest. I hope you enjoy it.

Tags: Anal sex, Bisexual female, Exhibitionism, First Time anal, Lesbian sex, Oral sex, Public Sex, Threeway

*****

Dumped

"FUCK!"

Ben froze. He leaned so his right shoulder just met the solid wall. The exclamation had come through the open door two steps ahead of him.

The door that was his goal.

"Mother FUCKING son of a shit SUCKING bitch...," Ben blinked at not only the words but their intensity. The violence they carried. But it was the growled, wordless, primal sound that followed that touched him the most deeply. It suddenly seemed to verge on a sob as much as the obvious anger.

He licked his lips as he inhaled slowly through his open mouth and held it for a count of two before he released it slowly. The room fell into silence, or the volume had dropped close to that, so he quickly stepped forward. With his right shoulder even with the nearest edge of the door, he spun so he could look into the room.

"Charlo—-."

"GODDAM shitcunt whore-fuc—-," shoulder-length strawberry-blonde hair flew as an angry female face looked up from the open laptop on the table in front of her, "oh, ah, oh GOD! AAHH... SHIT."

Ben jumped back two steps. He fought his flight response as he sidled to his right.

"BEN! WAIT!" The voice had morphed. It wasn't a command. It was a request. A... begged request. He steadied his feet and stepped squarely in the doorway.

"Charlotte. Are you... okay?"

Her bluish-grey eyes that looked at him were wide, but they settled after an instant. The woman whose imperious rule they all admired and feared in unison looked... vulnerable. Was that the word? Shit. Psychology classes had honed a natural ability to read people and it seemed a useful enough trait for a career in sales and marketing. At least until the robots took over.

"Shi...," he said, "no. You're not okay."

She offered a harsh laugh but her expression softened. Her smile wasn't one of joy. But it wasn't one of her sarcastic smiles. He'd learned those in the first week, why he was in the position he was in at this moment.

"No, Ben, I am most definitely not okay," her voice was choppy, "but, surprisingly, it has nothing to do with the August marketing update."

Then her smile did convey amusement.

"That's why you're here. Because I tore Marianne and her team fresh assholes. And she's too lame to face me herself. Sent you, 'cuz your part was the only one I didn't shit all over."

"Uh, um... I—-."

"Stop, Ben," her tone shifted again, to apology, "she did. I'm happy she did. You're really the only one in this entire god-forsaken building I want to see right now."

She nodded at the armless chair on the other side of the table. As usual, the desk at her left arm was strewn with folders and papers and a monitor with the highest resolution available on the market that sat unused among the jetsam that surrounded it.

"Will you sit down? I promise I'm not mad at you. In fact, you're the best reason I have for staying sane right now."

He nodded and let his expression convey his confusion as he stepped into the office and sat down. He set his phone on the table. Charlotte manipulated her mouse for a moment as she gave her laptop screen what he could only describe as a glare. Then her mouth tightened in a grim smile.

"Take a look," she spun the laptop and nudged it backwards so they could both see the screen.

"Oh... shit! Is that your... house? You've been robbed?"

"It is my house... but I'm not sure 'robbed' is the right word," she said as she clicked and different rooms came into view.

He'd never been to her house and couldn't recall any coworkers ever claiming to have been either. It was the sort of ultra-modern design, high, open spaces with lots of glass, that he'd seen in magazines and on television, but only via drive-bys in real life. The design most likely placed her in either of the two areas around the city where such places were common but any available outdoor views were through windows and they showed only swaths of hedges and trees which didn't offer further clues to the location.

She'd regularly hosted events for the staff, but always at hotels or parks or restaurants or once overnight at a nearby mountain resort. Her desk had always been bereft of family or personal photos and beyond the more than a rumor but not quite a confirmed fact she had a husband, any allusions to her personal doings she simply ignored or redirected back on others.

"Uh, huh?"

"Here, scroll down," she grabbed her mobile phone from its position atop a pile of papers on the desk and tapped at the screen before she flipped it and set it down where he could read it. He let his confusion show as he looked at her but she did something between a shrug and a shiver and tapped the table next to the phone. He read.

"Whoa," he said, then grunted. Her only response was a grim laugh.

"Go ahead," she said, "I need to know I'm not overreacting."

It was his turn for a grim laugh. But he obeyed, and used his finger to scroll the messages. At the end he looked up, his mouth moved a bit but he didn't manage words.

"Scuttlebutt around the office says you're not currently in a relationship, Ben," she said and put a finger up to stop him when he started to reply, "I don't pry. It's just that ya'll tend to blab about your personal lives."

"We prefer to call it sharing," he said, "but, yeah. Not for a couple months."

"Dumped via text?"

"Oh, uh... hell, no! But...," she laughed at his pause but waved her hand like a conductor to encourage him to continue, "well, bit tense, but really, we weren't much of a match. Went dutch treat on dinner, few tense moments but we made it to dessert."

"And I take it neither of you saw fit to clean out the other's house."

"Hah! He must be a major league assh..., uh."

"Hole.Yes. No, he's a world class asshole."

"But... your husband..."

"My piece on the side, I guess," she waved her arm in a half-circle, "THIS is really my husband. But not like my side piece wanted for anything. Including sex."

Ben kept silent, simply nodded. She pointed at the screen, the view locked on detritus from a hastily but not fully emptied living room.

"Things have been pretty shit for a while... I'm almost surprised he'd lasted this long," she said as she picked up her phone, "but I thought he'd have the BALLS to face me. Fucking shit-prick bastard. Bet it's that whore with the fake tits and too much botox he thinks I don't know about. And picking Friday the thirteenth!"

Ben's exhale was sharper than he'd wanted it to be. Charlotte smiled at him.

"Have you called the police?"

Her sudden grin was one he recognized. His employment in Charlotte's firm had started in the middle of a drawn-out challenge by a deep-pocketed multinational trying to wrest a major account from them. Her expression matched the one he recalled from the time she'd driven the final nails into their coffin. His own shiver was subconscious. She smiled at it and her face softened.

"That'd be a major waste of time," she said as she worked the mouse and zoomed in on a beautiful glass-fronted wooden cabinet in a corner, full of what looked like glass and porcelain items, "I'll have to go do a detailed inventory, but that look untouched to you?"

He leaned, squinted slightly. "Yeah, it's beautiful. And inside... valuable?"

"More or less, but I know it by heart and it does look untouched. But it's all mine, had it when we got together. What I can see of it my closet also seems untouched, he left the marriage bed too, some other furniture. Guess silicone tits didn't want to fuck him in the bed. So... he can claim taking only his stuff or common property... but really, the cops would just get in my way."

"Oh, shi...," Ben said, "uh, this place..."

She laughed. "Don't worry, ya'll still have jobs. He has ZERO claim on anything here. I'm guessing that's why he cleaned out the house, the prenup's bulletproof and he knows it. Wonder if SHE knows that?"

He nodded, didn't know what else to say. But he'd be a liar if he didn't admit a bit of relief.

"Now," she said after a pause, "go ahead and text Marianne. Tell her that you were successful in convincing me the plan's actually 90% there, not a 'festering pile of maggot-infested fecal matter.' I hadn't yet seen this security footage... but the first texts had arrived just before I walked into the meeting. DON'T tell her that or about any of this. You don't tell anyone. Please. But... one thing I do want you to add. Go ahead, get the first prepped."

She pointed at the laptop screen. He nodded and picked up his phone and rapidly keyed in the 'good news' part of his message, paused and looked at her.

"Add on 'Charlotte adds if you and your team don't get the fuck out of this building in the next five minutes and IGNORE work for the weekend, she WILL tear all of your heads off and shit down your necks.' Verbatim, please."

He shrugged and keyed the remainder in, then read it back at her order, fixed a couple of words he'd tried to soften and pushed send. Charlotte chuckled and turned the laptop to face her then used the mouse and typed something quickly. Ben's phone chirped twice. He looked at it.

"You've told everyone to 'fuck off out of here. ALL of you. Right fucking now. Monday's gonna be lit,'" he read aloud the message that showed the company-wide IM system and flicked over to his texts, "it's from Marianne, 'thank you, owe you', and she added a kissy face icon."

"Oh, building up to the eggplant+pussycat emojis," Charlotte said with a feral grin, he managed an 'um' but not much else, "but the 'fuck off outta here' doesn't apply to you."

"Sure, not a problem," he said with a shrug although her prior comment still rattled around his brain, "no real plans, just video games with some of the housemates. They're as lame as me. Nothing big."

"You still in that giant old shithole house with, what, twenty other guys?"

"Hey, it's a... stately old home, part of the proud history of the city, ow," he said and laughed, "about pushed my tongue through my cheek on that. But there's only six of us. And one of them is a woman. And it's the cheapest way to live here in the city close to trams and clubs and all that shit. Still gives us a guest bedroom."

He liked her expression. The first time it'd approached happy since he'd arrived. But he'd swear in court she was brewing some idea, too, but he couldn't imagine what it'd be.

"Any of your housemates wowsers? Especially the chick?"

He laughed. "Uh, she lives with five guys, gives good as she gets. Shit, I'm probably the wowseriest of any of us. And I'm a raging prevert."

"Why I hired you. Any got steady boys or girls?"

"Um, huh," he hadn't expected these questions, "Mikey does, he and Heather are pretty tight. Sammy brings home guys and girls, says 'why limit yourself?' But, really, most of us just hooking up when we can."

"With the chick?"

"Ah, no, she brings guys home but they mostly freak out, seeing all of us when they take their morning piss, if they didn't run into all of us playing video games and run away the night before. She's brought hotter girls home than I manage, too, sorta the same, bit put out seeing bunch of dicks in the morning. Actually, about the same any of us brings anyone home. Only Mike's Heather has stuck."

"Hold that thought," she said and went to her laptop. She typed, apparently a few responses. Her hard keystrokes convinced him her own responses were no less direct than before. His phone chirped.

'Thank you again. Team going to Purple Parrot,' it read, followed by a martini glass emoji before the final word, 'come?'

'Can't,' he typed, 'virgin needs to be tossed into volcano, that's me.'

It took a few moments for the response. 'Shit... sorry.' A sad face with a teardrop.

'Don't worry, not so bad as it sounds. Pass on my greetings. Have good w/end.'

'U 2!' Frowny face emoji.

"Hah," Charlotte said and she slammed the keyboard with considerable force, "so, where's she going?"

"Huh? She?"

Charlotte pushed her chair back from the table until he could see her left leg crossed over her right, her skirt sat well above the halfway point along her thighs. Thighs that he, and everyone, had always admired, if as quietly as possible. But it wasn't like this skirt was any shorter than she normally wore. Her chair tilted back as she let her arms drop which let her jacket fall open and her gaze seemed to focus on something only she could see through the doorway. She took a slow, deep breath and his eyes bounced from her bare thighs to the clear if slight offering of cleavage as her breasts pushed against her pale blue blouse's thin fabric.

Her sudden head movement caused him to jerk his gaze to meet her eyes. Her broad smile confirmed she knew where his eyes HAD been despite his quick reaction.

"Marianne. I heard your phone," she said in a lilt.

"Uh... Purple Parrot. Well, the team."

"Her excuse. Her team MIGHT even be going there. Or... not. You should definitely jump that. I've got better legs but those bazoombs... wowee, she's got a set! And unlike my soon-to-be-dead ex-husband's bitch, they're real."

"Uh...," he wasn't sure WHICH part of that statement to focus on. Nor what possible response he could make as he focused on the view through the window that made up the wall behind her, a matching twelfth floor in the building across the street. It wasn't that he hadn't had those THOUGHTS... but, he'd been totally discrete, hadn't he? He found the glittering humour in her hazel-blue eyes.

"But it'll have to be after this weekend," she said, as she uncrossed her legs and didn't quite push her thighs together as she seemed to direct his eyes to the view. Her panties seemed to match the dark blue of her skirt. As she leaned forward and put her elbows on her knees as she grinned at him. But when she leaned, her cleavage was in clearer view, she rotated the chair slightly and used her arms to force his attention between the two sights.

"Mine aren't quite Marianne's, but pretty nice, don't you think?"

He looked at her grin. He liked that her mood was improved, but his brain and his suddenly rigid cock sent badly clashing messages.

"They're good. No... not good... uh, shit. Great!"

"Ben," she said softly, "it's 5:01. We're off the clock. I don't want to be alone this weekend."

"Oh..."

"And, let's be honest. You've had plenty of thoughts of pushing your dick between Marianne's tits. Be honest. They're built for that. You're damned good at reading people, but so am I."

"Well... yeah, and... I've noticed. Takes one to know one," if he was going down in flames, make it spectacular!

"Right. And you've stood in the shower and wanked and when you're about to come, you've pictured it's MY face you're about to blow all over."

It wasn't a question. He blinked.

"And I've rubbed a few out imagining that your cock WAS just in front of my face blowing all over me. So. We even?"

"My cock..."

She pushed off her chair and was suddenly on her hands and knees and under the table. She met his legs and pushed his chair backwards before she ran both hands along his thighs to meet at his crotch.

"Oh, ah, Charlotte, uh," he looked at the door.

"They're all gone, ran like cockroaches when the light turns on, the badge monitors," she nodded her head toward her laptop as her hands rubbed the erect cock that was still trapped in his slacks and looked up at him, "until Monday I'm JUST Charlotte. You're Ben. I'm for now just a woman who needs a friend and who also needs a really, really, really thorough fucking. A whole weekend's worth of fucking."

Her eyes held his as her hands found his belt, button and zipper. She pulled his briefs and when his cock sprang free she glanced at it then back up.

"Your house?" He wondered how come that was his question at this instant.

"It's locked and I've changed the codes," she said as she stroked his cock and swirled fingers around the swollen glans, "if he comes back and burns it down, probably better I'm not there, right?"

"My place has the guest room."

"I know all the blood's in this, not your brain, but why...," she sprang and quickly sucked half of his erection into her mouth with a noisy suck. She held her position and rippled her cheeks against the hard flesh. She used her elbows on his legs to keep him still before she pressed against the shaft with her lips as her head rose. She used teeth to lightly scrape the head as she released the cock. He grunted.

"Why would I need the extra room, eh? But... I do have an offer, but I'll save it for when we get to your place."

This time she sucked his entire cock into her mouth. He groaned. But as she pulled back he reached down and grabbed the lapels of her jacket. She felt it and as she wrapped her lips tightly on the shaft, she swirled her tongue around the dark, red cockhead. She shifted her arms to allow him to push the jacket and gravity took over and as it fell she caught it with her right hand. She swung the arm around and he took the offered jacket, folded it in half and laid it on the table. All the while he moaned as her lips and tongue kept at their task.

His hands caressed her neck as she sucked before his right hand pushed between them and down her chest until it found the topmost button on her blouse. With a last hard squeeze and lick she rose to her feet until she could put her mouth on his. He welcomed it. Her hand brushed his hand to encourage it at its plans before it found his cock and used the left-behind saliva to ease its strokes. He undid buttons as and their free hands shared the task of pulling the hem of the blouse free of her skirt.

That done, her hand mimicked his at the buttons of his shirt. He undid the last button and ran his fingers along her abdomen. He'd been impressed by the view when she'd appeared in a running bra at one of the outdoor events and by touch it was no less impressive. He hoped for more time to explore the area, but he impatiently moved to her bra-encased right breast. His fingers ran across the cloth before they found rounded flesh and traced into the valley between. Her skin had the slightest sheen of sweat.

He shifted his hands to remove her blouse but as he did she broke the kiss and whispered.

"No. Unhook me."

He opened his eyes, but both of his hands went under her shirt and around her back. He found the clasp and quickly undid it. She purred as it loosened around her torso and she pulled back slightly.

"I hate wearing these," she quickly ran each bra strap through her arm holes and past the short sleeves before she pulled it off through her open blouse. With a flourish she tossed it over the table to land across her unemployed super-resolution monitor. She looked him in the face, then down.

"Those are freaking awesome," he said before he quickly leaned forward and sucked her left nipple and a chunk of flesh into his mouth.

"Eee, ah," she quickly put one hand on the back of his neck and pressed him tightly against her flesh while her other one left off stroking and focused fingers and thumb around the dark, red cockhead.

"Other one, be fair," she nudged him to her other tit and he obeyed, used his hand to cup the slightly overflowing flesh as he sucked hard and deeply, "ooh, you're good. C'mon, put some SUCK into it!"