tagRomanceGwendolyn's Quiet Confession

Gwendolyn's Quiet Confession


"Well, shit, this meeting's gone to hell in a hurry," I thought as I listened to the wise-assed young buyer in the Bandorette Corporation conference room. He was about twenty five, and was known to the sales department in my company as the "Pink Prick"; "Pink" referred to the pasty complexion under the thin, wispy beard he wore to hide it, and "Prick" for his treatment of suppliers. He was short, soft, and overweight and wore his position like he wore his custom made suits, well fitted, and comfortably, and reveled in his power to send me back to re-quote this job.

The little asshole knew I couldn't give him what he was asking for, at least not if my company was going to stay in business, and he also knew I couldn't just tell him to get fucked and then leave the meeting. I'm forty-five, and I was designing my company's products when he was still sucking his mother's tit; now this babyfaced kid was telling me that our designs were not technologically competitive, and not commercially priced. He smiled sadistically as he made me endure his tirade for another half-hour, and then ended the meeting. He and I were alone by the time I had finished packing my briefcase, and he closed the door to the conference room.

"If you want this business, you'll have to play my game. I'm not going to let some dumb-shit supplier keep me from meeting my cost targets; if you won't do this, there are other companies who will, so don't fuck around with me. Of course, if your company could... shall we say, show it's gratitude for my award of business, I could maybe meet my goals in another way. Come back on Monday, and we'll talk."

A couple of drinks on the plane home did little to relieve my anger, and walking into the empty house did less. Since Pat left, the house had been only a place to sleep, and tonight, I didn't feel tired enough to sleep in the king-sized bed alone. I also hadn't gotten over her enough to find anyone else to share the king. I was still pretty fit at five ten and a hundred and sixty pounds, but I was finding it hard to fit my silvering hair and the crow's feet at my eyes back into the dating scene. All the women I knew were married or attached anyway. I finally sacked out on the couch to an old western, and didn't wake until morning. It was Friday, and I had to think of some way to convince the Prick that Blandorette needed my products as much as we needed their order.

I walked into the building about eight, and went to Harry's office to explain what had happened. As I expected, Harry fumed when I told him the "Prick's" cost targets, and blew up when I told him about the request for a payoff.

"Hell, no, we're not going to pay off the little son of a bitch. Fuck him. If we do, he'll just ask for more on the next program. See what you can do with our design and cost, and get it ready for Monday. If we give him something, even a percent or two, maybe we have a chance."

I walked back to my office, hoping that next week this door would still say "Cliff Marston, VP Technical Sales", and asked Gwendolyn to come in.

Gwendolyn Shaeffer was my assistant. She had worked in accounting, processing credits, until about six months ago, when my former assistant decided to get herself pregnant and quit. Gwendolyn asked for the job, as soon as she knew it was open, and she interviewed really well. I had her transferred to my department, and she immediately went to work correcting all the accounting errors that marketing made, and to taking care of all the financial analysis we had to do.

Gwendolyn was a very different girl, but I liked her for her little quirks. That day, she was dressed in baggy pants and a loose, heavy sweater that made her hips look a little wide but otherwise effectively hid any figure she might have had. Her brown hair was long, but slicked back tightly and rolled up in a bun, and the black rimmed glasses did nothing for her face. Some makeup probably would have helped, but Gwendolyn seemed to prefer the natural look, and her pale nose shined up at me as we talked. She was, all in all, just another plain woman in her late twenties, but she knew everything about costing, and I respected her skills and hard work. I also liked her attitude of "take me as I am, and don't try to change me". I had grown to like her as a person, too. She was always mature and intelligent, but could be witty and humorous when the time was right. We had become accustomed to working together in the last six months, and sometimes it seemed like she knew what I needed before I did.

"Well, Gwendolyn, we'll probably have to work the weekend to finish what I have on my plate for Monday. Is that going to be a problem for you?"

"No, not really, sir. I don't have any plans, so it's all right. What are we going to be doing?"

"Well, we have to figure out design modifications and a pricing strategy that will please Blandorette, and hopefully allow us to make some money in the process. I can handle the engineering stuff; I need you to do the financials, and get the presentation ready."

By about noon, I had begun to appreciate Gwendolyn's skills even more. She had revised my costing detail, finding a couple of errors in the process, and the proposal was looking more favorable. By the end of the day, we had a real start, and the design changes I was proposing would help more.

"Will you be needing me tomorrow, sir?" she asked as we finished for the night.

"Yes, and probably Sunday also. We're getting there, but we still have a lot to figure out, and I have to leave Sunday night."

"That's fine; I'll see you tomorrow then."

Working all day Saturday didn't get us finished, and on Sunday, Gwendolyn discovered some component costs that didn't look right.

"Damnit, we can't get new costs until tomorrow, and the meeting's tomorrow afternoon. Gwendolyn, you'll have bring your laptop and come with me. We'll call Monday morning from the hotel, get the new costs, and update the proposal there. Plan on spending Monday night, also, because we'll be done too late to catch a flight back. Can you call and make reservations for yourself while I finish up here?"

We caught a cab and made a mad dash to the airport, and by seven that night, we were in the air. We checked into the hotel at ten, and agreed to meet at seven for breakfast.

After breakfast, we went to my room, and started calling component suppliers. As they called back with new costs, Gwendolyn changed our proposal, and by noon, we were done. It didn't look as good as I had hoped, but the costs were significantly lower than before, and I was sure some of our designs were better than our competitor's. After a stop at a quickie printing service, we made it to the meeting with fifteen minutes to spare.

I made the presentation while Gwendolyn flipped the charts. I wished we had had time to talk about her dress, because, although she wore the so-called business casual attire, she still looked like her normal sloppy casual, and I could see the Prick staring at her from time to time. I finished the presentation and asked the Prick for his comments.

"I can see you've put in a lot or work on this, but it's still not going to be enough. If you remember our conversation last week, I said I will meet my goals... one way or another. Apparently you didn't understand what I meant."

I felt the back of my neck get hot as I instantly came to the boiling point, and knew if I didn't get out for a while, I was going to blow.

"Would you excuse me for a moment. I, ah, have to take a walk. Gwendolyn, why don't you go over the financials with him again. Maybe we missed something in our presentation."

I walked out, went to the men's room, and talked to myself for a full five minutes before I cooled off. I splashed some water on my face, just to finish the job, and walked back to the conference room. I had decided to tell him that it was apparent we would never get this order on a profitable basis, thank him for his time, and get the hell out. When I opened the door, I forgot all about my speech.

He was bending over Gwendolyn, and she was pushing her hands against his chest, and saying, "No, I can't do that. Please stop."

He said "What the hell do you mean, you can't?" just about the same time I yanked his fat, pasty ass off her. I was boiling mad again, and this time I wasn't going to let this asshole get the better of me.

"I want to talk to your manager, and I mean NOW!. If you can't arrange that, I want to talk to the Personnel Director. You're not going to get away with doing this to one of my employees. Now get him in here, asshole."

There was fear in his eyes and sweat in his thin beard as he made a quick call, and his manager soon entered the room. "What seems to be the trouble here?", he asked.

I started to speak, but Gwendolyn cut me off. "This man asked me to go out with him tonight, and wouldn't take no for an answer."

"Well, that hardly seems like a major problem to me. Maybe he just misunderstood -"

"He said if I sucked his cock, he would give us the order we've been trying to get. That's a big problem for me, buster, and it's also against the law. I'm going to sue him, you, and your company for this." The Prick's manager turned pale as Gwendolyn stormed out the door, and I quickly followed.

I caught up with her at the rental car. "Gwendolyn, I'm sorry this had to happen. I should have warned you, the guy's a total jerk."

"It's all right; nothing happened, and he's in big trouble now. Maybe we won't have to deal with him anymore. Guess I screwed up the account though, didn't I?"

"Doesn't matter, we would have lost it anyway. He was really fishing for a payoff, not a lower cost. Let's head back to the hotel and try to forget about this."

We ate dinner in the hotel restaurant, and then relaxed a while in the bar, me drinking my manhattan, and she a rum punch. Gwendolyn didn't talk much; she seemed preoccupied with something - the Pink Prick's advance, I assumed. When I asked her if she wanted a second drink, she said, "No thank you, sir, I'll just be going up to bed now."

We agreed on breakfast, and as she walked away, I ordered a second manhattan. The bourbon was smooth, and helped wash away some of the anger I felt, but I stopped at two. Hangovers get worse as you get older, and I didn't need one now, on top of everything else. I paid the check, and went up to bed.

I stepped into my room and turned on the light, or rather, made the attempt. The light switch didn't work. I tried the bath light. Again, either the switch was bad, or the light was burnt out. I stumbled through the room to the bed and tried the lamp. No light. I cursed, "Goddammed cheap ass hotel -"


A cool, slender fingertip pressed against my lips as an arm came out of the dark and wrapped around my waist, scaring the hell out of me. "ARGH."


This time full lips found mine, and the other arm slipped around my neck. The kiss was wonderfully wet, and awakened feelings I'd kept hidden since Pat. I wasn't sure I wanted this, not so soon.

"Miss, I'm afraid you have the wrong room. I don't know how you got in here, but you have to leave, right now."

A soft voice whispered in my ear, the hot breath sending chilling tingles from my neck to my cock.

"I don't have the wrong room, sir. You need this, and I need you, so just be quiet and enjoy."

The arms released me, and momentarily a match flared. I saw a female form in silhouette against the wall as a candle flamed to life. The silhouette walked around the bed, and soon another candle sputtered, then flickered it's dancing light into the darkness. The silhouette walked back to me, and I could just make out the filmy negligee hugging her very female curves.

Gwendolyn... is that you?"

The arms circled my neck, and drew me to her open mouth. As the lucious lips nibbled at mine, and the wet tongue teased it's way to find mine, I tried to talk again. Gwendolyn, we can't -"

"Shhhh." There was a long pause, and then the whisper was on my neck again. "Please call me Gwen, just for tonight, sir."

Before I could reply, the warm lips found me again, and with gentle sucking kisses, took away my last bit of resistance. Small, graceful hands pressed against my chest, then rubbed, then snaked around my neck again, holding me to her face. The lips kissed to my jaw, down to my chin, and then began slow, nibbling, kisses on my neck. My arms reached out to hold her against me, gently, as if she were a fragile, glass sculpture. I felt lush curves under the thin nylon, and stroked from the slender shoulders to the swell of her hips. A tiny moan formed against my neck, and then slipped out, almost unheard, as a hot rush of breath turned my neck to a mass of tingling nerves. "Oh, Cliff, I've wanted this for so long."

She kissed me again as her slender fingers carefully undid the buttons of my shirt, pulled it from my pants, and stripped it over my shoulders. Her soft lips dropped to my chest and kissed down to my right nipple. The lips closed gently over it, and kissed softly. Her lips then moved to the left, and kissed that nipple, gently closing on it, and then kissing again. The feeling was not one I'm used to, and generated a shiver down my spine that shot immediately to my crotch. She laid her head on my shoulder as she embraced me, and her long soft hair blanketed my chest. I smelled strawberries as the sweet scent wafted from the fine, brown, tresses.

Her hands fumbled with my belt buckle, then figured it out, and as the change in my pocket jingled, my slacks fell around my shoes. The soft, searching hands slipped down my belly, the nails gently raking through the coarse hair, and touched my cock through my cotton shorts. The hands made a tentative stroke, and then rubbed my length as she crushed her body against mine. Her soft breasts pressed into my chest as she kissed and nibbled my neck again, and the silky nylon separating us felt exquisitely cool and slippery as her body rubbed against me. I felt her small thumbs hook the waistband of my shorts, and slip them down over my hard cock. She let them go, and they joined the pile at my feet. Her nails raked their way back up my thighs, sending little chills ahead of them, and when she encircled my erect member with her slim hand, a low groan forced it's way through my lips.

She lead me, shuffling because of the pants at my ankles, to the bed, laid back, and stretched out her small body in the yellow glow of the candles. The negligee was deep purple, and the panels that covered her breasts and mound gleamed the shimmering texture of satin. The rest of the gown was transparent, and her smooth body glowed through in the weak, flickering light, the soft shoulders, fragile and sensitive, the narrow waist and soft belly giving way to sensuous, lush hips that were made for loving. Legs long in proportion to her stature were smooth and pale white; she had the round thighs that I adore on women, and slender calves that ended in small feet with painted nails. I should have undressed her at that moment, but my muscles never received the command. I was awestruck at the sight of her face. Expertly applied makeup had brought life and a sultry essence to the plain Gwen I had known. Her black glasses were gone, baring large, dark brown eyes with long, fluttering lashes, and their depths steamed with passion. Lipstick painted her lips the color of lust, and the sensual mouth smiled at me from the mattress. Gwen had transformed from a sloppy, plain looking girl into a passionate, sensual woman. Her arms reached out to me, and she whispered again.

"Cliff, don't say anything. Just make love to me... please."

I kicked off my shoes and socks, and sat on the edge of the bed, shaking like a teenage boy on his first date. I leaned to kiss her waiting, parted lips, and stroked her soft shoulder. I let my hand slide down the satin to her breast, and squeezed gently, feeling the soft mound yield to my touch, only to swell away from the grasp to rise elsewhere. Gwen purred, quietly, and kissed back softly. I discovered the tie strings on the front of the gown, and pulled; the front of the gown fell away, and I slipped it to her shoulders. As I raised to look at her, Gwen shrugged off the filmy garment, rolled to her side, and tossed it away. She rolled back to face me, and I stopped breathing as my eyes devoured the enchanting sight. Her breasts were average, I suppose, but stood proudly from her chest, and the large nipples were dark, erect, wrinkled nubbins begging to be touched. Her smooth belly was accented by a tiny patch of dark brown silk, and her lips were visible through the fine down. She beckoned, and I stretched out beside her, took her in my arms and crushed her against me. I couldn't feel enough of her at once; my hands fondled her breasts, now her hips, now the slim waist, and finally came back to her breasts. She held my neck and pulled me to her, her lips devouring mine in passion, and her tongue made me tingle as it searched every part of my mouth.

I broke her kiss, and moved to her ripe breast, nuzzling the side as I kissed, then nibbling circles around the nipple on the soft, bumpy skin of her aureole, and it puckered at my caress. I touched the hard nipple with my tongue, eliciting a moan, and then closed my lips around it, savoring the sweet taste and exotic texture of her. She moaned again, and plunged her hand between us, searching for and finding my hard cock. Her hand slipped down to cradle my balls, the fingers explored each one and the sack with soft, gentle movements that were heaven, then circled the base of my member and squeezed gently. God, this woman was full of passion. It felt like I would cum with only a few strokes, and she seemed to sense this, as she only touched, not stroking my length, or rubbing, but just touching to maintain my arousal at a fever level.

I kissed the other breast and marveled at her smooth skin as my hand caressed her from breast to belly, stopping for a moment to stroke the tiny, furry mound before slipping between her soft thighs. Her thighs instantly parted, and her sigh spoke of desire and lust. As I stroked her soft, swelling lips, she opened herself more, and I felt her hand on mine, urging my fingers inside her, urging me to enter her warm, wet passage. As my finger slipped in, she cried a small cry of ecstasy, and lifted her hips to meet my hand. I felt the oily wetness coating her thick inner lips, and as I slipped my finger out, the beautiful petals came with it, clasping my finger in a passive embrace. They were beautiful, engorged, and pink, and formed a portal to her sex that invited me in. I nibbled on her nipple as I slipped back inside the soft, wet lips, stroking their length, and finding her large clit extended from it's hood, I gently rubbed around it in slow circles. Her soft fingers tightened on my cock, then started to slowly slip up my length to the head. She tickled the underside, then squeezed softly, and slipped down again, her soft hand stretching the skin and making me thrust against her. I rubbed across the tip of her clit, she arched off the bed and whimpered a moan, and as I caressed it again, she cried out.

"Oh, Cliff, yesssssss... Oh, God, yessssssss."

She was stroking my cock quickly now, squeezing gently and pulling the skin up and down. She pulled my face to hers, and kissed me deeply, the feel of her kiss soon melding with the soft music of her "ahhh's" and "ummmm's" buzzing through my head. The feel of her, the sound of her passion, and her caresses overpowered my senses, and I began thrusting into her hand, unconscious of the movement but very conscious of the feeling. My low groan slipped into her mouth and was answered by her own soft "ummmm". Her hips bucked against my touch, and she broke the kiss to whisper urgently between the panting of her breath.

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