High Rise Exhibitionist Ch. 45

My cell phone buzzed as I drove to work, indicating a text message. Not being one to text and drive, I waited until I pulled to a stop in the parking lot to open the message. It was from Staci. She typed, "Thanks for an incredible time. Here's a little something to keep you interested." Staci had attached a photo taken after I'd left. She was again naked and on all fours, but her cell phone camera was focused on her reflection in a mirrored closet door showing that beautiful emerald green jewel decorating her sphincter. I saved the photo in the folder that contained the dozens of other images I'd taken the night before. I replied with an emoji of a smiley face winking at her and a text message, "You've piqued my interest once again.

When I entered the lobby, Janice greeted me, "Everything okay, Allen?"

I smiled as I approached her receptionist desk and said, "It may be time for me to start car shopping. Unfortunately, the damn thing wouldn't start this morning."

"I've got your phone messages here," she said.

I grabbed the stack of messages, headed for my desk, and dove in. I was on the third call when Fran tapped me on the shoulder. I turned toward her, and she gave me the sign to call her. I shook my head and watched as she slowly walked back toward her office. She was wearing a gray pinstriped skirt and matching jacket. The skirt had a modest slit in the middle of the back that drew my attention to her dark stockings and black stilettos. I wondered what her somewhat conservative outfit hid below.

I got halfway through my calls and decided to take a break and give Fran a call, dialing her extension and waiting for her to answer. "Can you hold for one moment," she said.

"Yes, that would be fine, Mr. Richman," I heard her say.

Apparently, I called her at the most inopportune time; Kevin Richman was in her office when I called.

"Nice timing," she said once she was alone in her office.

"Sorry about that; if I'd known Kevin was in your office, I'd have waited until he left," I answered.

"No need to apologize. You had no way of knowing he was here," she replied.

"Thanks, Hun," I said.

"So, you got here late today?" she asked.

I decided to keep my reason for being late to myself, so I continued my fib, "Damn car wouldn't start."

She giggled and answered, "I hope you don't have the same problem with your cock tonight."

"Trust me, that hod-rod is a finely tuned machine," I quickly shot back.

She laughed at my snappy come back.

"So, what was Kevin doing in your office?" I asked.

"He wants me to have lunch with him today," Fran replied.

Oh shit, if Richman tells her he's going to promote that sassy little tart from accounting to be Marge's permanent replacement, it could ruin the atmosphere tonight at happy hour, I thought.

"Did he say why?" I asked.

"No, but I have to assume it has something to do with who he will promote," Fran answered.

"Hopefully, we'll have something to celebrate tonight," I remarked.

"We'll see; either way, I'm still looking forward to a ride on your hot rod," she replied.

"I like the way you think," I answered.

"I should get going; I wanna touch up my make-up and perfume before lunch," she said.

"Call me when you get back," I said.

"You'll be the first," she answered before disconnecting our call.

I returned to the remaining stack of messages. I noticed Fran was standing just inside the lobby a short while later. I gave her a good luck thumbs-up sign just as Richman appeared from his office. She smiled to acknowledge my sign. It was eleven-forty-five as they walked out of view.

I finished my phone calls, went outside, grabbed a hot dog and Coke for lunch, and as one-thirty approached, wondered if perhaps Fran and Kevin had made a stop at some out-of-the-way motel to seal the deal. After all, if he were going to promote the accounting tart, it wouldn't take this long to inform Fran she was being demoted from her temporary position.

A little after two, I heard Janice's voice, "Mr. Richman, I have some phone messages for you."

"Thanks. Can you hold my calls for a little while longer," he replied.

I glanced toward the lobby just in time to watch Richman and Fran disappear into his private office.

I went back to work, knowing that Fran would fill me in on all the details of their lunch when she could.

She reappeared just before three, and as she slowly walked toward my desk, she broke into a huge smile. I knew instantly that she was our permanent office manager. She paused for a moment at my desk and softly said, "Can I see you in my office?"

"Sure, give me a minute," I replied. I finished the email I was typing, clicked send, and then headed to her office.

She was seated behind her desk and had removed her suit jacket hanging it over the back of her chair.

"What's up?" I asked.

"Come in and close the door," Fran replied.

She sounded serious, and when she asked me to sit down, I got a little worried.

As I settled into the chair and smiled at her, she began.

"First, I'm officially Marge's replacement. Kevin told me during lunch that it wasn't even close. I'm much more experienced than the other girl he was considering."

"That's great, congratulations," I said.

"We spent a considerable amount of time reviewing my responsibilities and duties as office manager," she explained.

"It's good to understand what's expected of you upfront. Is he still planning on having you accompany him to out-of-town conferences?" I asked.

Fran smiled and then explained, "No, he is creating a new position as his administrative assistant and promoting Amy Johnston to fill that job."

"Let me guess, Amy is the sexy little tart from accounting?" I asked.

"She is," she replied.

So, Richman was getting the best of both options, Fran would handle the managerial functions of the office, and Amy would become his occasional sexy toy.

"Pretty smart; he's avoiding any complications from human resources," I remarked.

"Yes, but that's not everything. On the way back to the office, Kevin told me that he'll want a weekly report from me to be hand-delivered to his office every Friday after lunch. He actually said he wants me to suck him off during those meetings." She explained.

"What an asshole," I answered.

"I enjoy sucking his cock. It gets very hard and is just big enough to tickle my tonsils, and his thick, creamy cum load tastes very good," she admitted.

"He's still an asshole. He'll have Amy to fuck whenever he wants and count on a weekly blowjob from you." I said.

She smiled and then answered, "The perks of being the big boss."

"So, you sucked him off today?" I asked.

"I did; it sealed the deal," she replied.

I didn't want the thought of Fran on her knees sucking Richman's cock to be on my mind for the rest of the day, so I asked, "Are you gonna suck me off later?"

She giggled and then said, "When I give Kevin head, it's for the purpose of getting him off as quickly as possible; later tonight, I'll be making love to your cock."

"I'm looking forward to our date tonight," I replied as I stood up.

"Me too," she answered with a sexy grin on her lips.

I returned to my desk, thinking about her. Fran's been through some tough times lately. Her abusive husband left her with bruises and a meaningless marriage, and Kevin had used her body for his own pleasure, not caring if she was properly satisfied. She has gone through some turbulent time waiting to see if she'd earned the promotion to take over for Marge. Hopefully, tonight would turn the page to a less stressful period in her life, and I was happy to be the man who'd help her celebrate the change.

About five of five, she appeared in the walkway from her office. She walked with the precision of a runway model, placing one foot directly in front of the other, her tight pinstriped skirt drawn tightly against each thigh as she stepped. As she approached my desk, she smiled broadly at me and paused to softly whisper, "I'll meet you at the Crown."

I smiled in agreement and then watched as she walked toward the lobby. The short split in the back of Fran's skirt drew my attention to her shapely, sexy calves.

I waited until five and then joined the frenzied rush of employees anxious to get their weekends started. Her vehicle was gone when I slipped into the driver's seat and started my car. Traffic was heavy, and it seemed to take longer than usual to arrive at the Crown Plaza. As I pulled into the lot, quite a few cars were parked right outside the main entrance, but I noticed Fran's car parked away from the crowd. I pulled up next to her with my driver's door facing hers.

She was looking up at the visor mirror, applying mascara to her lashes. I pressed the down button on my window, and as she finished opened her window. "I was worried your car wouldn't start," she remarked.

"No, I bought a new battery this morning; traffic was horrible," I replied.

"Gave me time to touch up my eyes," she replied.

"You're ready?" I asked.

She closed her window and lifted a tiny bottle toward her neck, giving a small spritz of perfume on the soft flesh.

I closed and locked my car, then moved to open hers. She smiled as I offered my hand to assist her from the seat.

"You look incredible," I remarked as she straightened up.

Her enhanced eyelashes framed crystal blue eyes, and the rich burgundy shade of lip gloss sparkled even in the fading light of day. Fran moved forward, barely inches from me, and I savored the fragrance of her lavender-scented perfume.

"I love your perfume," I remarked.

"It makes me feel so sexy," she admitted. Fran wrapped her arms around my neck, and she gave me a brief but very passionate kiss.

"A perfect complement to everything else that makes you sexy," I replied as I offered her my arm.

She snuggled in next to me as we walked across the lot and through the large double glass doors to the lobby of the Crown Plaza. The Tiki Lounge is just off the lobby, a cozy place that features two and four-person tables and a good number of barstools along the bar.

For Friday night happy hour, they put out a small buffet of hors d'oeuvres on a couple of folding tables and bring in a DJ for those who want to dance. As we walked deeper into the place, Fran said, "I see a table for two over there."

I helped Fran with her chair and, as I sat down across the round table from her, said, "We should celebrate your promotion."

She grinned and replied, "What did you have in mind?"

Just then, a young waitress approached and, without introducing herself, said, "What can I get you?"

"I'd like a bottle of champagne to start," I replied.

"No problem. Would you like a full bottle or a Demi?" she asked.

"I think a Demi will do," I answered, knowing a Demi held about half of what a whole bottle holds.

"Very good; I'll be back shortly," she said as she turned to leave.

Fran smiled and said, "Champagne on an empty stomach always makes me giddy."

"Let me get us some snacks," I offered.

The buffet wasn't anything spectacular, but it was free. I filled a plate with an assortment of meats and cheeses, several pieces of fresh fruit, and a few Swedish meatballs and then returned to our table. Fran had removed her suit jacket and hung it over the back of her chair. For the first time, I admired her silk blouse, white with ruffles that covered the buttons. She had undone the top two buttons revealing only a hint of soft cleavage.

"It's not much, but hopefully, it'll take the edge off your appetite," I remarked as I placed the plate on the table.

Our waitress returned, carrying a bucket filled with ice and the Demi. After setting the bucket down, she picked up the bottle, popped the cork, then filled our tulip glasses. She returned the half-empty bottle to the ice bucket and, as she turned to leave, said, "Enjoy."

I lifted my glass and said, "A toast to a successful career as Harper's office manager."

She clinked my glass and then added, "I'd toast to a night of passion and lust that we'll both remember for a very long time."

We sipped champagne for the next hour or so, snacked on hors d'oeuvres, and flirted incessantly. She has a unique way of incorporating sipping and snacking with flirting, using her lips and tongue to entice the food or drink into her mouth, and causing me to watch every move closely.

Friday night at the Tiki Lounge apparently has a reputation as a meat market. By the time we finished our bottle of champagne and ordered a second round of drinks, the place was mobbed. Dozens of single women fending off hundreds of horny men looking for a quick night of pleasure. I was happy to be able to concentrate on the lovely minx that I'd arrived with.

The DJ began playing tunes, and the rather small dance floor filled quickly. I'm not much of a dancer, but memories that last a long time should include some dancing. "Wanna dance?" I asked.

She smiled widely at me and was on her feet, gyrating to the beat before my butt lifted off the chair. We moved to the edge of the dance floor, and Fran began spinning around, moving her hips one way as her shoulders moved the other. I plodded around her but watched every stripper move she made.

I lasted two tunes before I pleaded with her for a break.

Returning to our table, she quickly finished her Manhattan and then said, "I need to use the ladies' room. Can you order me another drink?"

I watched as she made her way through the crowd and noticed one guy stop her for a brief conversation. She smiled at him but ducked into the short hall to the ladies' room. Our drinks arrived just as Fran reappeared, her hair was brushed out a little, and as she approached, I noticed the third button of her blouse was open. She sat down, took a relatively healthy sip of her Manhattan, smiled, and asked, "Am I a MILF?"

"Why do you ask?" I replied.

She explained, "That twenty-something guy told me I move pretty good for a MILF."

"Technically, I suppose you could be considered a MILF. You are a mother, and it's obvious that dude would love to fuck you." I answered.

She took another sip of her drink as I asked, "Did he come on to you?"

"I didn't give him a chance; after he called me a MILF, I told him he had no shot," Fran replied and then added, "Hell, he's probably only a year or two older than my daughters."

I smiled at her and watched as she lifted the cherry from her drink. She was clearly feeling the effects of the alcohol because rather than munching on the fruit, she lowered it to the top of her cleavage. "Do you wanna fuck these soft MILF tits?"

"I believe I do," I replied, watching her transfer some moisture from the cherry to her soft cleavage.

She smiled and lifted the garnish to her lips, slowly running the cherry over her smooth, shimmering lips before extending her tongue to lick it. "I bet you wanna have my soft lips wrapped around your big, hard cock?" she asked just before using her teeth to remove the fruit from the toothpick.

As she chewed the cherry, I replied, "You already know the answer to that question."

Fran lifted her drink to her lips and finished it with one healthy gulp. "I'd like another," she said.

"You better go easy on those Manhattans," I remarked.

She giggled and then said, "But we're celebrating."

I didn't reply, knowing that if she consumed much more, our celebration might be interrupted later if she passed out on me. Fortunately, the DJ supplied me with an excuse not to order a third round as he announced, "Here's a couple of tunes for those who like to dance cheek to cheek."

I stood up and offered her my hand as I said, "Dance with me."

We moved onto the dance floor, which wasn't nearly as crowded as before, and as I gathered her in my arms, she kind of melted against my body. I wrapped my free hand around her waist and drew her hips firmly against mine as we slowly moved in circles between the other couples.

I was the first to speak, "Your perfume intoxicates me."

She cooed softly in my ear.

I moved my hand up her back until I reached the fabric of her bra beneath her silk blouse and pressed her tits against my chest.

"Oh, that feels so good," Fran whispered.

We redefined the term cheek to cheek, her thigh pressed against my crotch, and I pulled her tits against my chest. We took turns nuzzling our lips into each other's ears or gently kissing the other's neck. I suppose our dance style could be called foreplay in motion.

"My nipples are so hard, and you're making me very wet," she said before sighing softly against my ear.

I didn't need to tell her that my cock was rising; she could feel it against her thigh. The DJ blended the end of one tune into the next, allowing us to continue our dance floor foreplay for another three or four minutes.

As the second tune ended, she placed both hands around my neck, looked me in the eyes, and said, "Take this MILF home and fuck her."

I placed my arm around her waist, resting my hand on her hip, and walked her back to our table. "Sit here while I pay our tab," I said. Fran kind of flopped down on the chair, a sign that she was feeling the effects of her drinks.

"Is she going to be okay?" our waitress asked as she slid my credit card across the bar.

"She'll be fine," I replied as I turned and headed back.

"Let's get you some fresh air," I suggested as I helped her stand and slip her suit jacket on.

"My head is spinning," she remarked as we exited the lounge.

"One too many Manhattans, I suspect," I answered.

I held on to her as we walked toward the double glass doors. Once the cooler outdoor air hit her, Fran seemed to perk up a bit. "It was pretty stuffy in there," she remarked.

"Yes, I agree," I answered but knew it was the alcohol that made her feel that way.

We reached the safety of my car, but before I could open the door, she leaned against it and said, "I need a kiss."

I cupped her cheeks in my hands and leaned forward, softly kissing her lips, but she wanted more and opened her mouth so I could probe inside with my tongue. "Hmmm." she softly moaned as our kiss intensified.

She grabbed my hand and drew it to her chest, pressing my palm beneath her jacket and against one soft tit. I gently caressed it through her blouse and lacy bra as I kissed her deeply, passionately on the mouth.

"I want you," she said when we finally broke our kiss.

I moved both hands to her hips, pulled her away from the car door, and opened it. I helped her sit, then reached in and buckled the seat belt around her waist and across her chest.

As I slipped into the driver's seat, I glanced at Fran, her head was back against the headrest, and her eyes were closed. "Are you okay, hun?" I asked.

"My head's still spinning," she replied.

"If you feel like your gonna be sick, let me know," I remarked.

During the drive to my place, I kept one eye on her. If she was going to throw up, I could at least pull over and get her out of the car.

She remained silent during the drive, her head against the headrest and her eyes closed. At one point, when I was stopped at a red light, I reached over and placed my hand on hers. She turned her hand over and gave mine a gentle squeeze.

I turned into the lot at Kurtz House, shifted into park, and turned the key. She opened her eyes, lifted her head, and said, "Oh good, I'm sure I'll feel better once we're inside and alone."

I jumped out, rounded the car, and opened her door. Fran's skirt had slid to mid-thigh, exposing the tops of her stockings. Now I usually take time to enjoy this luscious view of her shapely legs, but in her current half inebriated state, I figured it was more important to get her into the privacy of my apartment as soon as possible.

"Give me your hand," I said, helping her from the car.

I closed the door with my free hand and pressed the lock button on my key fob, then held onto her as we approached the entry door.