Harry's Protégé Ch. 03

Three days after arriving home from Europe, Sierra Bycroft drove along the waterfront and recognized Harry by his rear-end half a second before seeing his face side-on to confirm it was him.

This was unexpected. She slowed her sexy red steed, looking into the mirror.

Lip gloss was good but oh, her crazy hair was a mess. She also cursed knowing she was bra-less - uplift would catch his eye. Their initial meeting wasn't supposed to be like this; it wasn't according to plan.

Sierra decided to avoid the meeting, to quietly U-turn and drive away. She'd intended her master plan to become operational when he'd predictably enter her office to greet her later this morning. She'd have her dress front unbuttoned and perhaps hook a leg in light-gauge fishnet over her desk.

She winced, thinking that in all the time she'd spent on the aircraft planning for re-engagement, this first-meeting aspect was full of holes - totally inadequate.

Hmmm if she over-did the flashing hints of breasts and leg at him, he'd suspect she was up to something as to him she usually presented herself as a person of total indifference. If she wanted to be permitted to capture his dick and have her tits mangled to hold his attention and induce him to really befriend her then her total seduction would have to fall within his parameters, not hers.

Try to be clever darling, she urged, ready to turn and head back the way she'd come but then, realizing Harry had spotted her.

Sierra reluctantly nosed the car in by him and adjusted speed to match his jogging gait, looking ahead occasionally to avoid parked vehicles.

After a reasonably affable chat she drove off, amazed that it had been so easy, he agreeing to admit her into his home although then belatedly attempting to withdraw the invitation He'd agreeing to tutor her about preparing the monthly accounts summary and she manipulated it so she could stay the night at his apartment although perhaps he'd thought he'd canceled that invitation

Within ten minutes she'd achieved what she'd earlier estimated could take up to three weeks to accomplish. Either she was brilliant or he was on a high, induced by jogging which had switched off the defense system he used to moderate his behavior.

Sierra was painfully aware he thought her too irresponsible and too promiscuous for his tastes - not saying as much as a word but over the years during her rebellious outbreaks and her disinclination to follow office procedures, his disapproval had shown.

When they'd sat together in the newsroom he'd practically prepared to bolt whenever she forgot herself and talked above a whisper on the phone to girlfriends in exciting detail about her latest sexual liaisons. Whenever her comments became too hot he would hurry away from her.

Initially she'd rejected any thought of taking him to bed. But that changed when father raised the possibility of it - yes, her father - during one of those seemingly obligatory conversations fathers feel compelled to have with their sexually over-active unmarried daughters.

Duncan had unloaded it well.

He'd said he was worried about her reputation of being something of a hell-raiser, reminding her only by sheer luck had the police officer confronting the couple in that indecent behavior in the public place had recognized the female was Duncan's drunken daughter.

Sierra presented to have no recall about that incident.

Duncan reminded her of the allegation was she was being screwed over the trunk of the guy's car outside the 24/7 café. The officer was a member of the same golf club as Duncan and several times had seen Sierra collecting him from the bar after playing golf.

Sierra said no one believed all the things that cops claimed.

Duncan said Arnold was as straight as they come.

"Oh come off this witch-hunt dad; you were a disaster for your parents when you were young. They've told me about many of your appalling escapades."

"Yes young woman, but you are now thirty-two. I was married and gaining respectability by the time I was thirty. You should be married by now. I've already hinted there's a man I approve in the wings."

Oh shyte he was thinking Harry!

She knew not to tell her father she had a plan to roll Harry out of her existence in due course but her mouth ran ahead of her brain but at least her outburst diverted her father,

"While I was away I slept most of my nights alone, I needed to work on my comprehensive strategic plan."

"What plan? Go on."

"I am aware I'm being taught a lesson - that control of the newspaper will not pass to me until I demonstrate maturity and prove to the board I can run the operation competently."

"But stupidly the board has made that difficult for me by sticking Harry in the boss editor's chair. I figure I have two options - try to roll him with the possibility of failure or to systematically learn from him and then convince the board to move him sideways or better still make him deputy CEO to widen his experience and I can leapfrog him when I succeed you."

Her father beamed.

"Thank God for that. Sierra I was beginning to wonder if you were in danger of screwing away your brain with your orgasms."

"That's foul daddy and apologize now you foul-mouth bastard."

Without waiting for a response, Sierra leant over and squeezed his arm and kissed his ear, then outlined her plan although omitting her contingency plan for having sex with Harry - hopefully until either his eyes dropped out or he became her slave.

She didn't much care which way it went.

Daddy then sent Sierra's mind spinning like crazy.

"You know, I really approve of Harry becoming my son-in-law, so do it soon, baby."

She sat stunned until he growled for her to say something.

"What about mommy?"

"I don't really know except she sees him as being a very nice man who stands head and shoulders above your usual sidekicks."

"That's not difficult, he's six-three."

"Don't be a smart-ass. Your mother also thinks your award-winning Single Best Personality Interview eighteen months ago had the influence of his writing style all over it."

"Doesn't mummy go on at times? I think she should find a job rather than fill her mind with garbage like that."

"Did he?"

Sierra sucked in air. She had to make him bail out of this.

"Daddy, when we were in the newsroom, by design we were seated as a duo to operate as a team - he made suggestions about my articles as I wrote then because I invited suggestions, but never did he solicit my help, even for the feminine point of view, because he considers himself so superior, erroneously I might add."

"Hmmm," her father responded and changed the subject, asking did Sierra want to join him and her mother on a summer holiday. They were thinking the Greek Islands.

All in all that had been an interesting ride home and now it was time to put stage one of her action plan into effect.

Sierra knew with her academic business studies and work experience during university semesters, she ought to pick up the company's specific financial reporting procedures for the editorial department quickly. It would substantially involve verifying figures, aligning them to the actual figures for the similar period for last year and providing the budget forecasts for yet another comparison and having any discrepancies noted and researched by the accounts department.

Then it was only a matter of writing a summary that made sense to the directors, most of whom would dwell on bottom line results.

Then Harry could become her plaything but that posed a bigger problem than picking up on financial reporting.

She had doubts about coming on strongly and taking him to bed too quickly. If she did that he'd really think she was a slut.

She'd just have to wait and see what eventuated but then the nude image of Harry sporting a huge erection popped into her mind.

She shook with excitement. "Yes!" she yelled triumphantly, gripping the steering wheel tightly; he probably hasn't had sex for at least four very long weeks.

Her nipples tightened, as did her midriff. She emitted a very long sigh and then looking out the side window swore - though she'd been driving carefully she'd sailed past the entrance to her apartment block, now some 200 yards back.

"What's that boo-boo compared with a month without sex," she giggled aloud. Rarely did she feel so happy because life for her was mostly a bore.

Sierra called up Harry in the foyer of his apartment block at 8:30 absolutely amazed she was thirty minutes early. She couldn't recall being early for anyone, ever. Oh boy, did she have some surprises for Harry in dressing up her body so beautifully.

Amazingly this was also her first seduction - even as an 18-year-old all she had to do was to flutter her eyelids, give a couple of heavy sighs after two wet kisses and - bingo!

Nowadays if it were a new date she only had to say a corny 'Take me' and he wouldn't be the dickhead type who'd ask 'Where to?'

Well why complicate it? Or if wanting hot action with someone she'd begin with previously, tonguing a wet 'Fuck me' whisper into his ear was a guarantee of full-on action.

But this one, this one was different. Although Harry was years overdue for it from her, he'd require to be seduced the old-fashion way with feminine guile layered on thickly.

Wondering how thick his dick might be made her squirm and she realized preparing for seduction had made her really excited.

Play it cool, darling, she told herself sensuously, because if she attempt to out-pace him she'd end up in bed alone with only her fingers for company. She squirmed again and heard his voice sound metallic over the totally inadequate inter-com speaker, "Yes?"

"It's me."

"And who's me?"

The bastard, Harry was making her spit it out, but he sounded unsure - of course, he knew she was never early!

"It's Sierra darling."

Damn that 'darling' just slipped out; she was already halfway towards full arousal. She smiled; the speaker was so lousy he'd not hear her response clearly.

"So it's darling now, you must want something?"

Oh gawd, he was on to her.

The panic rose and she glanced back at the entrance. She was hugely tempted to do a runner but to fail now what hope was there of success if she couldn't complete an easy part of the master plan?

"Come on you fool, open the door."

Harry didn't reply, the electronic lock clicked and she entered and walked to the elevator, her confidence returning. As she rode up to the seventh, Sierra looked into the mirror to attend to her hair, face and adjust the way her top was sitting thinking she looked gorgeous and could easily fall for her herself.

At thirty-two Sierra was entering her prime. Her face was a little wider than it used to be in her early twenties; her lips were fuller and her breasts certainly were larger but, dammit, so were her hips.

'I could eat you', she mouthed at the mirror then blew herself kisses, pleased her green eyes appeared to be glowing. Well she was sexually excited.

Back to Mr Stiff.

She giggled, taking the wrong meaning when she meant conservative. She had the plan: say a bright 'Hi' and comment what a lovely apartment and fabulous views. Easy. All she had to do was to knock on the door of 7-11 and her rehearsed greeting would flow but she'd have to be aware of not being thrown by unexpected responses or gestures from him.

The elevator doors opened and Harry was standing there, smiling.

Drat he was supposed to be in apartment eleven.

It didn't matter; she only had to ad lib.

Oh gawd, he was wearing dark suit pants, a white shirt over which was a muted floral waistcoat - she just loved men wearing waistcoats, the modern kind like he was wearing.

Harry held out his hand, probably a gallant gesture to assist her to step from the elevator, but she stupidly shook it and said hi again, which prompted him to repeat his greeting.

"Lovely foyer," she enthused.

There was no foyer, it was just a spartan spot in the hallway of plain grey walls broken by the finger-marked stainless steel surrounds of the elevator doors, now closed, a wall-mounted fire extinguisher and a 'Smoking is Forbidden in Public Areas of this Building' notice.

The carpet was stained.

"It's a bit austere," he said, looking a little surprised. "But it's home."

"I draw. Perhaps I could sketch something for this wall opposite the elevator doors or go whacky with graffiti."

That was meant as a joke and he smiled hugely and revealing great teeth. She imagined her nipples showing interest in those teeth.

"I was saying let me take your carry-bag."

"Oh sorry, my mind was on teeth - er tea."

"You'd like a drink of tea?"

"No, I hate tea...er...I meant golf tees."

He looked astonished. "You play golf?"

Saved!

"Oh yes, I often play nine holes with my mother and occasionally a full round with my father and his buddies if they are a player short."

Impressed, and taking her carry-bag and almost dropping it because of the weight, he asked: "So you have a handicap?"

"Yes twelve."

He looked, er, stunned. He must play golf.

"What's your handicap - golf I mean?"

"Eighteen," he said weakly.

They shared an outside interest besides sex, at least hopefully sex. Sierra was delighted and that showed on her face. Hooking her arm into Harry's and chuckling she said, "Fancy that, all these years of working together and we didn't know we shared an outside interest like golf. I wonder what other recreational and social interests we have in common?"

Harry turned to stare at her.

"You should remember - we've often talked about music, theatre, film and concerts, fitness, food, favorite drinks, holidays and even clubbing."

"Did we?" Sierra murmured, then biting her wretched tongue.

"Of course I understand your indifference because of your consuming interest."

"My consuming interest?" she asked, without thinking.

"Sex."

Sierra's knees almost gave out but he tightened his arm hooked through hers to steady her.

"Have you been drinking?" he asked, smiling and looking deeply into her eyes. "God, your eyes are beautiful."

She swallowed and he pushed her through the open door of Apartment Eleven and she felt his hand lightly run down her right butt. Her butt!

This guy had her off-balance. What's going on here?

"Nice apartment; very tidy for a man," she blurted and attempting to recover said, "Where's the gorgeous views. Oh gawd," she said, seeing only the architecturally uninspiring buildings out the window. "Don't answer - I don't know what's happening here. I think I psyched myself up so much because I was coming here that I'm over expecting."

"Over expecting, exactly what are you expecting?"

Sierra maintained a practiced array of special smiles for new men. She dragged out 'ice-breaker' and beamed it at Harry. Exhibiting a touch of vulnerability, she said, "I'd appreciate a stiff drink to settle me down, do you have Scotch?"

Ten minutes later they moved to the table, Harry topping up their drinks. He removed his waistcoat so she removed her jacket, fully revealing a multi-textured tight cotton top of coral color that vaguely looked like bare skin.

Her breasts were beautifully supported in a new bra, revealing the slight upward curl at the nipples. She gave the impression she was looking elsewhere but caught the sight of his tongue moving across his top lip.

She smiled, knowing at last something had gone to plan.

That was followed by another planned action dropping into place perfectly.

Harry held a chair out for Sierra and then physics took effect; he bent over her in the movement required to push her and the chair closer to the table, resulting in him sampling her perfume at near-maximum intake - a French fragrance obscenely referred to as 'Plug Me' by Jenni, her best girlfriend, who'd recommended it.

"Lovely," murmured Harry, which triggered a romantic quality smile from Sierra although hidden from Harry, his nose was now almost in her hair.

As her eyes closed briefly, she pictured him - tall fair and handsome, as Jenni had called him when having coffee with her and Sierra had pointed him out in the distance.

Sierra had shocked Jenni when denying they were "at it like rabbits" and her friend sighed and asked could she have him. Jenni was told to help herself.

With Harry sniffing her hair as if he were a bull about to mount her, that bovine thought diverted Sierra for a moment and almost turning her smile into a giggle. The thoughts some people have, she chided, then admitting he was almost handsome - a good strong jaw, splendid teeth but the lips were a little thin yet not cruel.

His face had too many freckles for her liking, the brown eyes were not at all sexy and his eyebrows looked clipped instead of displaying playboy ruggedness. The hair she couldn't fault; basically fair with some darker brown streaks, plenty of it and almost always looking neat but over the years when she'd seen the fringe tumble and before he could flick it back he'd looked so boyish that momentarily she'd become interested in him, very momentarily.

The body, oh boy - too tall for her but perhaps in five inch heels she could cancel out that objection and in bed - if that was their destiny - height didn't matter, did it?

"What doesn't matter?"

Oh gawd, she was horrified. Obviously she'd said that aloud. What else had escaped her mouth?

"Ah, it doesn't matter if whisky makes me sweat, does it?"

"What would you be doing to make you sweat?" Harry asked curiously.

"Ah jogging in the morning?"

"Of course. Now let's hit these figures."

A little over two hours later they were finished.

"Now you know procedures, this monthly reporting task will be no problem for you - you're great with figures and you have a great figure, if you don't mind me saying so."

Did she mind? Was he keen to see more? Sierra wanted to oblige but alas, that kind of jump forward could knock their budding relationship back a century.

This guy truly was a dinosaur, she mused. He was completely ignorant of the fact that some women love excessive sex and love being brutally frank in talking about such passions. How he'd ever managed to get laid was beyond comprehension.

Sierra yawned in despair and the twerp misinterpreted, saying she better go to bed as she was tired. Sierra groaned.

Harry showed her into the bedroom and pointed out they shared the bathroom.

"That's fine - this layout is pretty standard, replicates mine actually. "You'll have to sleep there one night and see for yourself."

That wasn't a slip and Sierra had knowingly released it, but he just smiled and made no comment.

Harry made the predictable gesture, "Ladies have first use of the bathroom."

"Thank you, kind sir."

And that was it, or so she thought.

Sierra emerged and called out, "The bathroom's free" and from his bedroom Harry replied "Right", sounding if he were in front of his computer if it's possible to identify a reply from such a location.

She giggled at her wit, and decided it was the humor of a half-wit, and perhaps that was being generous.

"Want anything?"

Sierra was hungry, so replied, "A salad sandwich would be great - vegetarian."

"Can do."

In her bedroom she took off her top and designer black linen double-ruffle skirt, removed her eyebrow extensions, unpinned her hair and started the ninety-six brushstrokes.

"Ready," he called and bored with the brushing Sierra said "I'm coming," dropped the brush and went to join him.

Well, he reacted as if he'd been almost electrocuted - eyes bulging and gasping "Jesus!"

"What is it?" Sierra cried in alarm.

"Y-you."

"Okay, okay," she soothed, realizing what the fuss was about. He's one of those guys who get it on more seeing a half-naked woman than one with it all bared. Oh yeah, her tits would be larger than that last time he'd seen them and her hips would look wider if his recall was that good.