Entertaining at Large Ch. 10

Muhammad positively glowed.

'I am only sorry that I shall not be able to share it with my colleagues on the board.'

He held up his hand as I began to interrupt.

'I am, however, confident that the adjustments to the text Susan has made will make it completely acceptable for more general circulation.'

He glanced at the two of us as we shared a look. I was pleased to see Muhammad's gratitude for the time we had spent together making those changes. Charles gave a small nod, confident that any implied criticism in his earlier remarks had not been misinterpreted. He closed his diary with a snap and looked at us both seriously.

'I would ask you both to treat what I am about to say in the utmost confidence.'

He paused until we had both indicated that we agreed.

'I have been thinking for some time that the firm needs to be reorganised. There is too much complacency in too many of the sections. We have just been marking time for too long and that is something we cannot afford to do in the current business environment.'

He took a deep breath before continuing.

'I had been thinking of calling in an outside expert to conduct an analysis. Today I discovered we almost certainly have the skills we need within the company already. I must apologise to both of you for not recognising your abilities earlier. That is something I shall reflect upon.'

I was in a state of shock. I had been grateful for the flattery earlier in the meal. This was something else. I opened my mouth but nothing came out.

'I shall, of course, have to discuss things with my board before moving forwards. Several of them are still overseas so that may take some time. And hence the need for complete confidentiality.'

He paused and picked up his empty coffee cup. The gesture alone was enough for a waiter to appear moments later with fresh cups for each of us. He waited until he was well out of earshot before continuing.

'In the meantime I ask you both to continue as normal. Your department, Susan, has always been exceptionally well run. I shall expect your staff to take well-deserved time off over the next couple of weeks. Next month I shall be convening a senior-level seminar over the course of a few days. I shall expect you both there and, I hope, brimming with ideas.'

He closed with a broad grin, no doubt enjoying the stunned shock which both Muhammad and I shared. Having waited for a minute in case either of us regained the power of speech, be smoothly restarted the conversation by quizzing Muhammad further about cars of all things. We finished our coffees at a leisurely pace; I even managed to join the conversation, extolling the virtues of the bicycle. Both men smiled in that patronising way men do when they have no intention of indulging an eccentric woman's oddities.

I was initially confused when Charles pressed a twenty pound note into the palm of the waiter when he asked for the bill. All became clear when the owner reappeared bearing the faux leather folder which contained the itemised cost of the meal. He smiled greedily as he noted the adjustment for service Charles added and took his gleaming gold card as if receiving the eucharist.

'I doubt the staff will see much of that.'

Charles watched the retreating man with a certain distaste before announcing that he proposed to drive us both home. The winter sky had darkened and the noise of heavy rain had been evident even inside the restaurant. Both Muhammad and I objected, logically pointing out that we had our own transport back at the office. He ignored our comments and motioned us to remain in the doorway as he pulled his coat tighter and ran into the storm. When he pulled up a few minutes later and we dived into the car he announced that arrangements had been made for car and bike to be delivered to our homes. As the warmth from the car's heating system enveloped us both Muhammad and I gave resigned thanks.

It was only when I closed my front door behind me after one of the most comfortable car rides of my life that I allowed the pent up excitement which had been building since the end of the meal to burst out. I danced upstairs to change, whooping as I did so. I flicked on the bedroom light when I was down to my knickers and bra. I hadn't considered to that point that Mr J might be on the look out for a treat. The house opposite, however, was in darkness. I wondered whether he had made contact with James, or was holed up in a rear room devouring the contents of Justin's ledgers.

The temptation to pour a celebratory glass of wine was almost overwhelming as I sat at my kitchen table scanning my phone's contact list for someone – anyone – I could share my news with. I fought back and pushed the boat out by adding a slice of lemon to my fizzy water instead. It was slightly depressing to realise, as I scrolled down my phone, that I couldn't trust a single one of my friends to keep a secret – gossips, blabber-mouths and gossips every last one of them. I was contemplating going down the list again to choose a lucky punter to call over for a celebratory shag when the incoming message tone sounded. It was Matt.

"URGENT need 2 spk 2U asap!!!"

I smiled. With Matt an emergency could be anything from a problem getting himself off as he enjoyed a leisurely afternoon wank to a concern that he did not have enough funds in his bank account to cover the cheque he had paid me for the ill-considered blow job on New Year's Eve. Still, I reasoned knowing what his sexy voice did to me every time we spoke, a long conversation might help me with the current frustrations without me having to deal afterwards with soiled laundry or awkward social situations. I rang as I walked through to the front room to stretch out on my sofa. He picked up immediately.

'Thank goodness. We've got a real problem.'

'What ho, Matt. I've been thinking about you a lot since covered my face with your cum. Mmm.'

I heard him strangle the start of his explanation as he took in what I just said.

'I can hardly wait to see you on the fifteenth. Every time I think of entertaining you and all your randy friends I get so wet.'

There was a short groan at the other end of the line as I drew out the 'o' in "so".

'That's just it. We can't.'

'Of course we can. We're big boys and girls. Or are you telling me that now you've had your prick in my mouth you just want to move on?'

I put a little pout in my voice and tried to sound disappointed.

'No, never. It was wonderful. You were, well, fantastic. It was the highlight of my year. Probably my life.'

His voice was working its magic. I had no idea what he was going on about, but I unbuttoned the top of my jeans and slipped a hand down over the cheap cotton pants I had bought before lunch. They were already damp. I waited for him to continue.

'It just that... Well, it's Yvonne.'

'Is she your girlfriend? She's so lucky to play with your wonderful cock every night.'

I was stroking my pussy gently, enjoying the pressure on the lips and the feeling in my clit as it perked between them.

'No, no. You don't understand. I don't have a girlfriend. Yvonne is Trev's fiancée.'

'Does she want to come to the stag night too? That would be fantastic. You saw how much fun the women had at the Crown the other night. I would love to get naked for her. Do you think she wants to join in? Some girls do, you know?'

I stroked my thumb inside the waistband of the panties and pulled them tighter against my slit.

'It's just that she's made him promise. And he won't stop going on about it.'

'You sound really upset. What is it? I really wanted to have fun with Trev. He's a real hunk. But if he just has to watch.'

I left the sentence hanging. I was still not clear exactly what Matt was worrying about. The fact that every time he spoke the deep hum of his voice went straight to my groin was not helping.

'She said no strippers.'

He blurted out the ultimatum as if it was a declaration of nuclear war. I could hear the disappointment in his voice.

'And what do all your naughty friends say? Do they agree?'

I was playing for time. I had to admit that the prospect of my first gig away from the Crown had excited me. It was only the prospect that it would be called off which made me realise how much. Still, I told myself as I frigged harder, there would be other opportunities. But I definitely didn't want to let it go without a struggle, and I knew that Tracy had already made plans for her share of the fee.

'They're devastated. The boys who were in the pub that night told the others all about you and your friend. We were all really looking forward to it.'

'And you can't persuade Trev?'

I could understand Yvonne's point of view. When Dave fell into the house at four in the morning after his stag night I had been really pissed off myself. The smell of cheap perfume clung to him through the beer fumes and there was lipstick on his body in places lipstick most definitely should not have been. I had almost called my own wedding off there and then. I had put my own anger into perspective when I remembered my maid of honour fucking a male stripper at my hen-do and my rowdy friends goading me to lick his cock clean when they had finished.

'He's adamant. He made her a solemn promise. She said she'd call off the wedding if he broke it.'

Matt sounded as if he might cry. My maternal instincts and my twitching pussy were urging me to invite him over for a little comfort.

'Did she say "strippers" or all women.'

'She said strippers. I think she assumes it will be an all-male gathering.'

A plan, or at least a step forward, was forming in my mind.

'So if a couple of girls turned up and latched on to your party that wouldn't be breaking her rules then?'

'No, I don't think so. In fact I'm certain. Trev said she just kept going on and on about strippers and how they were no better than whores.'

A slight tone of optimism crept into Matt's voice.

'I've never been on a stag night. I'm sure they're lots of fun. I know I'd like to. Do you think the boys would mind if there was a knock on the door and there were two beautiful girls standing there?'

I heard Matt catch his breath.

'Probably not.'

'Probably?'

I tried to sound insulted.

'Sorry. I meant definitely not. Especially if one of them was you.'

'And do you think they'd be able to keep our secret?'

'Oh yes.'

The words came out in a whisper. I had a feeling Matt was doing the same thing with his hands as I was.

'Then expect a surprise on the night. We'll have to do some planning so that you all get what you want without upsetting the groom.'

'Yes.'

'Where are you at the moment, Matt?'

'I'm at home.'

'Are you on your own?'

'Yes. I've been worrying about the fifteenth all day.'

I gave a small sigh.

'Well that's done now. What are you thinking about?'

'Well, you actually. I usually do when I'm alone. I hope you don't mind.'

'Mind? Why should I? It's very flattering. I'm lying here feeling rather lonely.'

There was a long silence. I listened to his unsteady breathing.

'What are you wearing?'

'Well not very much really. Just a thin nightgown. If you were here you could see, well, everything.'

I giggled.

'What colour is it?'

'Black with white lace. Do you like me in black?'

All I heard was a cough.

'The material is stretched over my boobs, I can feel my nipples pressing hard against the material..'

I slipped my hand down inside my panties. The moisture and heat from my pussy was a natural magnet and I slipped my middle finger easily between the folds and pressed down on my clit.

'I wish I was stroking your dick. I loved how hard and hot it felt in my mouth.'

'Really? I think about you sucking me whenever I'm in bed. It was fantastic. The memory always makes me hard.'

'Have you an erection now?'

I pressed down on my slit and my finger slipped instinctively inside. I gasped involuntarily.

'Yes.'

'Are you stroking yourself? You're making me really hot.'

I heard Matt's breathing increase. He was letting out small pants punctuated by grunts and even the odd growl. I put the phone on speaker and laid it on the arm of the sofa beside my head. I now had another hand free to work my clit. My ears were filled with the sound of Matt's growing excitement and the sucking and squelching noises from my over lubricated pussy. I could feel my nipples hard against the flimsy material of the light bra I had put on earlier. I desperately wanted to pinch and squeeze them and arched my back almost in a spasm.

'Matt, I'm almost going to explode. I wish you were here biting my tits. I can almost feel your warms saliva running down between them.'

All I heard at the other end of the line was a short sob. Something about Matt's surrender pushed me over the edge. At what point I had pushed three fingers inside my pussy I do not recall. Now I had bunched them into a firm rod and was shoving them in and out frantically. I could feel the rough waistband of my jeans abrading my arse as I squirmed against the forgiving sofa cushions. I could feel the electric shocks, the spasms and heat coursing through my whole body as a series of mega-orgasms ripped through me. I heard a scream; it had to be mine. My hands were suddenly soaked and my head filled with weird hallucinations. This was something new for me.

I had a picture of myself running naked down office corridors; a man with an old fashioned camera with one of those big round flash attachments you see in thirties movies was pursuing me snapping as he ran. When I looked down all I could see was a large hand and forearm scraping the metal band of a massive, bejewelled wristwatch across my mons whilst a grinning face with a massive beard looked on. Off to one side a fat, sweaty waiter tapped an adding machine and leered as the long, white strip of paper spewed out reaching the floor. I closed my eyes and concentrated on my breathing as the waves of pleasure and pain receded.

'Suzette, Suzette.'

Matt's voice penetrated my physical and mental haze. I had no idea how long he had been speaking. He sounded worried.

'That, my little cherub, was something else.'

I started laughing. Both at the incongruity of the words I had just spoken and the absolute joy that the receding tide of ecstasy was causing me as I returned to something resembling normality. I laughed and laid back stretching out on the sofa to enjoy the last moments of pleasure as the intensity faded.

'Phew, as they say in all the best comic books.'

'I was a bit worried about you.'

I started laughing again.

'I got spunk in my eye.'

Matt didn't sound over concerned about it. But any commiseration I may have been inclined to offer was forestalled by a ring on my doorbell followed by firm knocking.

'Well that was lovely. We must do it again sometime. But there's someone at the door. Gotta go. Text me if you come up with any more naughty ideas.'

I hung up and my phone message alert pinged straightaway. I ignored it and pulled myself upright. Unless Matt had an instaperv app it would just be another ad for an amazing money-off offer from some multi-national or another. I hastily pulled down my T-shirt which had somehow become bunched over my boobs and double checked my hall mirror to make sure my jeans were respectably closed before opening the door. One clothing malfunction a day was quite enough.

'What ho, Simon.'

The night watchman from the office was standing in the drizzle holding my bike. It's length meant he had been unable to get under the porch with it. He didn't look happy.

'I brought your bike. Boss's orders.'

It was easy to tell from his tone that he definitely was not happy so I eschewed the obvious jokes.

'You shouldn't have.'

Was obviously not the thing to say. His expression darkened.

'Just prop it up there and come in for a cuppa. I was just going to make one.'

'I shouldn't. We're run off our feet.'

He pushed by me in case I took his protest seriously as I tried to imagine for a second how it was possible to run a night watchman off his feet. I guessed the mere act of standing up was enough. I tried to recall when I had ever seen him doing anything other than sitting in his little hut near the gate listening to Radio Two and watching sport or porn on his phone. I couldn't.

He grumbled his way into the house carefully stepping off the doormat before dripping rainwater all over my clean carpet as he removed his coat. I smiled at him disingenuously and led the way to the kitchen; I'm not particularly house proud and Simon clearly had no social gumption. I grinned to myself. A few minutes ago I had been ready to jump anything in trousers; that feeling had definitely gone. I checked my face in the distorted reflection in the kettle. I still looked flushed and I made a vain attempt to straighten dishevelled hair.

'You OK?'

'Oh yes, just been shifting furniture. It was harder than I thought.'

'Right.'

He obviously didn't believe me and I didn't expect him to. I searched the cupboards for anything resembling biscuits.

'This really is very kind of you. It could have waited until tomorrow.'

Simon snorted.

'In your dreams. I don't know what you and Mo said to Charlie-boy at dinner time but he's been acting right funny ever since. He's got The Boy delivering Mo's car to his house. Even said he could take a taxi back. Four sugars please.'

He snorted again. I was not sure whether it was at me searching the backs of cupboards for any sugar at all, the thought of The Boy delivering cars or possibly the idea that taxis were an acceptable form of transport for the sober. The Boy was an institution in his own right. He had been with the firm since Charles's father's days, possibly even his grandfather's. He arrived at work every morning riding a bike so old he'd probably had it since he started at the firm. He always wore the same cap and raincoat regardless of the weather and carried his sandwiches and flask of tea in an old gas mask case. Almost certainly the one he had been issued with at the start of the Second World War.

'Can he actually drive?'

'Probably.'

Simon sucked on his teeth.

'He's had a license since they were giving them away without a test. Never seen him behind the wheel though. Still, he's fond of Mo, so I'm sure he'll look after the motor.'

I was learning a lot. First, that it was possible to drink tea with four sugars without immediately going into some sort of diabetic shock. And second, that The Boy had a friendly relationship with Muhammad. I passed the old guy almost every day as I cycled in. I made a point of greeting him whenever I did, but so far had never received a reply. The few times I had any contact with him during working hours his conversation had consisted solely of monosyllabic grunts. Maybe it was another of those men's things. I made a mental note to ask Muhammad about it some time.

I watched Simon silently working his way through the plate of biscuits I had put in front of him. It was a self-absorbing activity and, with an apologetic nod which went unnoticed, I reached for my phone to check who had messaged me. It was Steve.

"RU free Friday nite. Need a woman for dinner at Pump House xx"

Intriguing. My second invitation to our premier eatery in the same day. Must be something in the water. Simon was absorbed with his next confectionary choice so I texted back.

"Not free, but my rates are very reasonable. Intrigued. We'll talk Wednesday after practice :)"

Eventually my guest finished the biscuits and drained his mug with a sated sigh. We both got wet putting the bike in the garage. I shook his hand as we waited for a break in what was now a deluge before he was willing to risk a run to the firm's van.