Facing The Consequences

Seconds later her body stiffened over him and her sex grew distinctly warmer as she started to come but at the same time she pulled back on his shaft retracting his foreskin almost painfully.

He held himself still. He did not want to come, at least not like this, but as she shuddered though her own climax she almost grunted with effort as she started to pump him mercilessly.

He tried to resist but, in the end, his body betrayed him. He heard her shout almost triumphantly as he erupted and he could feel the warm gobbets as they spattered his stomach.

She remained on his face as she slowly recovered and then slowly dismounted.

"Thank you darling."

She kissed him gently on the forehead but the fact was he felt cheated. She left him to go to the bathroom and then returned with a towel which he used to clean himself up as best he could. He had decided that, after dinner, they would make love again on his terms when he was rudely reminded how it had all started.

"It's too late for the bank now. Call them first thing and let me know how you get on."

Chapter 3

That night he did not sleep well. He could not shake the notion that Susan had been aware of his discomfort and used it to her own advantage. The following morning he went into the office early and asked his secretary to arrange a meeting at the bank.

Unbeknownst to his wife the account was no longer being dealt with by the local branch. The increased levels of borrowing determined that the account was now on a cautionary list and it was being handled directly by the area office. They agreed to see him at short notice and he considered his strategy during the short drive across town.

After a short wait he was ushered into the office of Dimitra Chakos, his account handler. His bank had recently taken over the Cyprus Popular Bank and Chakos was one of the acquired staff who was being fast tracked.

He resented having his account administered by a foreigner and, but for his straightened circumstances, he would have taken his business elsewhere. Chakos was a large, matronly, woman somewhere in her mid thirties. Her face was pretty, in a Mediterranean way, and it was this, amongst other things, that had lead him to initially underestimate her.

In trying to renegotiate his overdraft he had bull-shitted her about the current state of the market and the prospects for his business. She had listened patiently and then produced figures of her own. She had turned out to be frighteningly perceptive and she tore his business plan to shreds. Only later did he find out that she was a Harvard economics graduate and a UK qualified accountant.

In the light of her analysis he should have been turned down flat but two things worked in his favour. Her brother, as it turned out, was a passionate football supporter and a little judicious corporate hospitality, courtesy of his former Club, helped to oil the wheels. The second thing was his personal charm. A little flattery went a long way and Dimitra had proved as susceptible as many others in the past.

"Dimitra, you are looking as lovely as ever."

She tried to maintain a serious demeanour but she could not stop herself from flicking the hair from her face.

"You asked for a meeting?"

"That's right. There was a little misunderstanding yesterday. One of the company cheques bounced."

She said nothing but, instead, consulted a folder in front of her on the desk. After a long pause she answered.

"The cheque was the third to breach the new overdraft limit. We gave the benefit of the doubt on the first two but we couldn't sanction the third."

"Dimitra, you know what this business is like. It was just bad timing. There are funds being credited, probably in the account today."

"Then we don't have a problem. The cheque was dishonoured on a representation basis. Just tell the beneficiary to pay it in again"

Now he was caught in a bind. There were no funds being credited at present and he could not ask the garage to represent the cheque. He tried a different tactic.

"It's a minor difficulty. What I really wanted to talk about was new developments. I have something big in the pipeline."

He made it a double entendre and it raised the vestige of a smile from her but she was quickly serious once more.

"I can't do anything more for you on the basis of promises. We agreed that the new limit was the line in the sand; if the account is not put in funds by the end of the week the bank will call the loan and there is nothing I can do about it."

He sensed that she was genuinely sad at having to impart the news as she got up from her seat and crossed to the window. The time had come for the last throw of the dice. He got up and stood behind her. She was wearing a simple well-cut black dress, which helped to disguise her fuller figure, and he took hold of her shoulders.

"Dimitra, surely there's something you can do?"

She stiffened under his hands but she did not move away.

"A woman as beautiful as you...those gray suits must be putty in your hands."

She turned her face towards him.

"I can't...."

"Of course you can..."

He touched her lips to silence any further protest and then he kissed her.

For a few seconds there was no response and he feared that he had badly misjudged but then her mouth opened to accept him and he knew all would be well. He reached over her to draw the blinds and then eased her down on to the guest sofa which filled the window bay.

With his lips still joined to hers he started to unfasten the buttons on her dress safe in the knowledge that the door would remain locked and the "Engaged" sign illuminated until released by the switch on her desk.

She was returning his kisses with a passion and he felt his gorge rise but he was committed and had to keep up the pretence.

Her dress was free and, with reluctance, he looked down at her body. He was surprised to find that she was wearing expensive, almost daring, underwear which seemed completely at odds with her otherwise conservative attire.

There was no disguising the fact that she was a big woman but her olive complexion somehow made her less unattractive.

"So beautiful..."

With distaste he ran his hands slowly down her body and then slipped them into the waistband of her pantyhose. She was eager now and she lifted herself a little so that he could slip them down her legs.

Desperation had driven him to this but it made things no easier. She was pulling at his tie, wanting him to undress, and only then did he understand that he could not play all his cards at once; he had to keep her on his side and that meant leaving her needing more.

He gently pushed her hands away and she looked puzzled until he kissed her again whilst deftly unfastening her bra. Her breasts were heavy and it was clear that they would one day lose their fight with gravity but for now her dark nipples still thrust proudly skyward.

The areolae were large and heavily dimpled and for a few seconds, as he began to feast on them, he managed to forget who he was with but they must have been particularly sensitive because she began to groan and writhe beneath him.

He knew now what he had to do but the thought unnerved him and he continued to lavish attention on her breasts.

"Take your clothes off..."

Her voice was husky, expectant, and he could put things off no longer. He began to move downwards, kissing as he went, onto the heavy expanse of her belly. He caught the smell of a musky body lotion which was obviously doing its job as, despite her size, her body was mercifully free of stretch marks.

He found himself lingering at her navel which was a deep set cave that tempted his tongue and, for a brief moment, he began to understand the fascination that Rubenesque women held for some men.

"Please..."

There was no further talk of him getting undressed. He suspected that not many men had travelled this way and she was squirming in anticipation. From her navel a dark downy line marked the track and he followed it with his tongue until he reached the border of her prettily brocaded panties.

She had her own hands under her hips, raising herself slightly, and he could see that she was desperately resisting the temptation to remove them herself.

He had now slid to the floor and was sideways on to her, which made for an awkward position, but she brought her legs together and lifted them. It was obvious what she wanted and words were unnecessary. He stroked upwards along her thighs and slid his fingers into her panties then, turning his hands slightly outwards, he began to pull them slowly down her legs.

Almost at once he caught the ripe smell of her and he felt a tiny hint of queasiness but worse was to come. As her panties were removed she moved round on the sofa so that she was almost sitting upright. She placed one foot on the floor and cocked her leg so that the other foot was resting on the seat of the sofa. He found himself kneeling between her legs with nothing left to the imagination.

This brazen attitude caused him to reevaluate her seeming modesty and had him wondering if he could go through with it.

She had shapely calves but her thighs were as daunting as the rest of her body and there, seated right at the very heart, was her ripe, heated, sex. In common with other Mediterranean women she obviously waged a battle with dark body hair and she clearly went to some trouble. Her pubis was dressed with a thick growth but it had recently been shaved into a neat triangle leaving a shaded boundary where it was just starting to grow back in.

At the centre all the hair had been removed from the area around her labia, which were themselves discrete, but the dark framing made for a wanton display which was emphasized by the sunshine streaming in at the window.

He wanted it over with as soon as possible but everything now depended on him making her feel wanted. With a great effort of will he moved closer and placed a delicate kiss on the spread of her inner thigh.

"Mmmm..."

The yielding softness was in stark contrast to Susan's toned legs and the comparison brought with it a pang of guilt but he told himself that he was doing this for their mutual benefit.

He moved ever inwards, taking his time and kissing as he went. By the time that he reached the deep crease that marked the top of her leg she was groaning in anticipation. Her skin was clammy now and as he licked gently, plucking up courage to cross the divide, the taste was peaty.

He drew nearer still nuzzling the crinkly outer fringes of her pubis as he went and this excited her even more. He had not wanted to dwell here but it was so much to her liking that he was left with no choice.

She had started to lubricate and it had been soaked up by the dark pelt which was damp beneath his nose and mouth. The sensation was distasteful but he licked for as long as he could bear it before moving on to his final goal.

She gave an audible gasp as his tongue made a first gentle sweep along the length of her sex which parted in welcome. He quickly found himself licking deeper in a warm, moist, interior.

Perhaps unreasonably, he had expected her taste to be strong but, in reality, it was little different to any other in his experience and her natural scent was no more or less exotic.

He continued to lick slowly, drawing her out, and he felt the tension increasing in her body. He knew that, were he to seek out her clitoris, he could take her over the edge but, much as he would have loved to do it, he kept his discipline.

She was moaning and muttering the odd word in Greek, which meant nothing to him, but he grew resentful when she began to stroke his head in a clear show of endearment.

He could take no more. He adjusted his position and latched on to her clitoris, which was surprising modest, and he began to flick it rapidly with his tongue. She immediately drew in a sharp breath through gritted teeth and, within seconds, her body began to judder.

She squeezed her eyes closed trying to stifle her own cries as the pleasure mounted culminating in a final surge of release that drained her body of energy leaving her slumped helplessly on the sofa.

He thought he had done enough but he needed to make sure. Despite her half-hearted protests he lapped at her sex cleaning up the residue of her climax but it became obvious that she had not completed her descent.

Her taste had all but disappeared but then she started to well up once more. Almost immediately she shifted and he supposed that she was going to get up lest she appeared greedy but he was sadly wrong. She lowered her foot to the floor but kept her legs open. She rubbed at her thigh quickly to ease the stiffness but then she relaxed more deeply on the sofa and waited expectantly.

He had kept his station and now he resumed his ministrations. She had grown bold and now held her sex open for him laying bare her clitoris. Taking a deep breath he began to lick it as gently as he could and he felt it still slowly pulsing with excitement.

"You wonderful man..."

He wished that she would keep quiet but she continued to encourage him as he slowly carried her upwards once more.

He thought that she would come quickly this second time but she now showed more self-control and seemed determined to savour the experience. After a few minutes he was beginning to flag and he was desperate for some fresh air but then he was caught unawares as her thighs closed about his head and he was kept in a painful vice as her orgasm finally took hold.

He felt awful, both physically and mentally, but the more so when he had to submit to a kiss. He told her that time was pressing, that he needed no relief and was happy simply to bring her pleasure. She called him a darling and kissed him fully on the lips. He knew then that she would want him again.

Chapter 4

He left her office safe in the knowledge that the garage cheque would now be honoured and that he had secured the few days grace that he needed. She had smiled broadly as she noted the date of their next appointment in the diary but, if all went well, it was an appointment he was determined not to keep.

He returned to his own office and, having fired up his laptop, he nervously checked his inbox. It took a moment to scan through the clutter but then he found the e-mail he had hoped to find and he rubbed his hands together. The first bid was in and he applauded his own cleverness.

The recent floods in Pakistan had had a two fold effect. Their two main paper mills were temporarily out of commission at a time when, because of the new UN initiative, the demand for paper product was at its highest. In collaboration with a number of aid agencies the UN had recently evaluated a rigid, low cost, temporary structure for housing refugees.

It had the benefit that the materials could be produced locally, in volume, at low cost and construction was simple.

The new structure, made from treated card, would not last as long as a traditional tent but it was more wind resistant and thermally much superior. The only drawback was the high grade of wood pulp needed for production. Pakistan relied on New Zealand for its wood pulp imports but the ongoing stevedores dispute in that country had temporarily halted supplies.

In truth, he had picked up all of this information at a recent trade conference but he saw the opportunity. The only other major supplier of graded pulp was FinnSullu and he now held options to buy all that they could produce in the next six months.

None of this was illegal. FinnSullu knew the situation as well as he did but by contracting with him they achieved an attractive fixed profit and, if he reneged, they had a charge over his company shares which, even at their reduced trading price, would still more than cover their losses.

The risk was all his. He was leveraged many times beyond his means and, technically, he was trading whilst insolvent, which was an offence, but if the gamble paid off he was made.

The first bid was attractive but he knew there would be others.

He found it hard to concentrate for the remainder of the morning and he took an early lunch. He went to the gym and, after a rigourous workout, he treated himself to a sauna. He could not be bothered to go back to the office and decided that he would drop into his golf club and see if anyone was available for a round.

He arrived home to collect his clubs to find that the drive was crowded with cars. Only then did he remember the launch party. He felt mildly resentful at the intrusion but Pam was Susan's best friend of long standing.

Her new venture was a female version of the traditional lads mag and he thought that it was doomed to failure. He knew that Susan had offered to sink some money into the project but Pam had refused preferring to confine herself to venture capital. That had not stopped Susan from helping in any way she could and that included the loan of the house and the judicious invitation of a couple of prominent media personalities.

He hoped to be able to sneak in, change, and sneak back out again but, once inside, curiosity got the better of him. The event was taking place in the basement, which had been recently stripped of plaster pending a damp proof treatment, and he could hear the sound of a pounding dance track and raucous female laughter.

Susan had spoken to him about it but he had to rack his brains to remember what she had said. He approached the stairs to the basement and the musty smell hit him immediately making him wonder why on earth she might think it would make a good venue.

As soon as he started down the steps he could see exactly why. The basement was large, stretching beyond the width and length of the house and they had been told that the previous owner was a serious wine buff. As his eyes accustomed themselves to the eerie lighting he saw that it had been decorated in the style of a medieval dungeon.

The buffet was set out on rough hewn trestle tables ranged round the walls which themselves had been dressed with hanging chains. Also in evidence were three large wine casks from which the guests were helping themselves. The strange lighting was a result of a large brazier set in the centre of the room.. The coals were artificial and the lighting electric but the effect in the low ceilinged space was unarguably effective.

When he reached the bottom of the stairs he could see to the end of the large space and he gave a smile. The female guests, wine glasses in hands, were milling around various instruments of torture. There was a rack, a pillory and an iron maiden each of which held captive a well oiled male model wearing nothing more than an abbreviated thong..

Hanging over the tableau was a banner bearing the new magazines tagline "Putting men back in their place."

"Darling!.." Susan spotted him and came across "...this is a surprise."

She looked stunning in a tight black cocktail dress that he could not remember having seen before.

"I just dropped by to pick up my clubs. Looks like you're having fun."

"It's going very well, but I'm afraid it's girls only."

Only then did he notice. Apart from the three "torture victims" he was the only man in the room.

"No problem, I'm on my way."

"No, stay, have a glass of wine.

He turned to find Pam at his shoulder proffering a glass. She too looked resplendent in an abbreviated red dress which showed off her impressive body to an immodest degree.

He had never been able to put his finger on what it was about Pam that still irritated him after all this time. Possibly it was because she had known Susan for so much longer and he got the sense that she felt that her best friend could have done a lot better for herself.

"No, I'll leave you to it."

Pam touched his shoulder and gave a mock pout.