Interior Motives

It's funny how things can change in the blink of an eye. One minute you're up there flying high. The next you're struggling to survive. Was it really only a few short months ago that Mike and Helen Grube thought they had it made?

They were living the American dream. It just didn't get any better than this. They were enjoying a rich life brought about by successful career choices, the trappings of that success manifesting itself with the expensive designer clothes, the flash cars and the large house in the suburbs.

But now it seemed that their dream life was crumbling, their recent problems were mounting and they were fast approaching a crisis point.

It had all started so well. Fresh from leaving college, Mike had entered the corporate world and starting at the bottom as a Junior Accounts Executive, had worked his way slowly up the corporate ladder before securing a position at Worldwide International Holdings. A few years in, and with hard work and long hours, he'd finally made it onto the hallowed sixth floor.

Getting to this level gave you access to the big accounts and an opportunity to earn some serious money. But for Mike, for some reason, it hadn't. His once promising career had ground to a halt. All corporate offices with a large workforce have an amount of political maneuvering going on, but sadly Mike had been unprepared for the depths to which his colleagues were willing to go. Trying to rely just on hard work and honesty had made him almost anonymous, and he'd heard whispers that he could be on his way out if he didn't bring in some big business soon.

And his story of woe was almost the same for his wife Helen. After graduating top of her class, she left college to start work at one of the biggest names in interior design. She too had started at the bottom of the ladder but had risen quickly as her work showed she had real flair, combining a vivid imagination with an exacting eye for detail.

After landing several big commissions for her employer she soon became unhappy that all her hard work and determination had not been acknowledged, as others above her took credit for her work. Her salary didn't improve much either. This feeling of being undervalued by her employer gave her the impetus and encouragement to be bold enough to get out and start her own company.

It had been tough at first, far tougher than she could ever have imagined. Her previous employer tried to undermine her work and undercut her fees at every opportunity, but eventually she had established herself and the business had slowly grown.

But times were harder now due to a downturn in the economy. People were cutting out unnecessary costs and it seemed that interior makeovers were a luxury that one could afford to do without. She had already lost two commissions in the last week and now, coming to the end of her phone call, she was resigned to losing a third.

"Shit," she murmured softly as she finally ended the call. Her hand came up to cup the side of her face as she stared glumly off into space for a moment, reflecting on this terrible news.

She finally lifted her head and turned to her assistant, Fiona. "That was the Eriksons, they've just canceled their design."

"Oh Christ," Fiona exclaimed, knowing instantly what that meant.

"I'm sorry Fiona, you know this is the last thing I ..."

"It's okay Helen, I understand, truly I do," Fiona interrupted with a weak smile. "Don't worry about me. Just promise you'll call me as soon as you need some help again."

"Of course I will Fiona. That goes without saying. It's just that I'm so, so sorry that it's come to this. And thank you so much for being so understanding," Helen said, as the tears welled in her eyes.

After hugging Fiona at the door as she left, Helen retreated to the kitchen and made herself a cup of herbal tea. It was her go to drink when feeling stressed. She'd long ago found that drinking anything stronger just made you feel worse after the initial euphoric lift had faded.

Helen truly did feel awful about letting Fiona go. Being with her since the early days, she was more a friend than employee now and Helen felt she was letting her down. But what else could she do? She'd already been paid by the Bakers and the work she was finishing off for them was just a couple of little extras that she'd thrown in for free. They'd been so easy to work with and had paid her immediately, which wasn't always the case.

As she sipped her tea she reflected on where this latest devastating news left her and Mike.

>

>

>

They had met shortly after Helen left college. Although Mike was older than Helen by almost ten years, the attraction had been instantaneous. After a two year courtship they had tied the knot. Where had the years gone? Mike was fast approaching his fortieth birthday whilst she had just turned thirty. They'd had no family, always putting it off until they had more stability and money. Fat chance of that now, she thought bitterly.

In the early years it hadn't been so bad. With each promotion, Mike's salary increased quite significantly. Added to that, her business expanded as her reputation grew. With a sizable joint income they wanted to make their money work for them. Having taken professional advice they decided that there was nothing safer then property to invest in.

Initially they bought cheap houses to flip, each one achieving a small profit, which they banked away. Eventually they took the plunge and began to trade upwards each time, sinking all that profit into the next house until they had ended up with their latest home. It was a colonial style house in dire need of complete renovation. Sadly for the Grubes' it had become a money pit nightmare. Even essential work was nowhere near completed and with their savings almost non existent and the property mortgaged to the hilt, they were in virtual crisis.

And if that wasn't bad enough, it was now almost a certainty that their money was going to run out soon. With Helen's commissions canceled and her business on the verge of closure, her input was gone. And with Mike's career having dramatically stalled and his present salary unable to cover all their outgoings, they now stood to lose everything they had worked so hard for.

On a personal level too the pressures had piled up. The stress they both felt led to constant little arguments; and sex, which had once been a regular and welcome feature of their relationship; had faded away to nothing.

This frustrated both of them but mainly Helen. She'd always thought of herself as highly sexed. She'd always enjoyed being intimate and was mightily frustrated now that Mike seemed to have no interest in her, a point she made to him later that day when he returned home from work and they fell into yet another argument.

"We have no life Mike," she snapped, "and you don't even make love to me anymore."

"I know, I know, but with all the problems we've got with my work and your work and the house, I just... I haven't got ... I'm just so weary," he concluded weakly.

"Uummpphh," Helen snorted, "you didn't look weary the other day when I saw you flirting with your new secretary. Chloe is it?"

"Okay, enough, that was harmless. She was distraught because her boyfriend had just dumped her," he replied.

"And anyway, she hugged me first," he added.

"Yeah sure! You didn't seem to be too bothered about her rubbing her big breasts against your chest though," she retorted bitchily.

"Couldn't say I noticed," he replied sheepishly. "Anyway, changing the subject ... I do have some good news. WE ... WE have been invited to the next work's function that's held exclusively for the senior executives and their partners. This is the one I've heard others talk about. Even George Benson, the CEO attends this one, so it's obviously a big deal. And as we've not been invited before, maybe this is a sign things might be looking up for a change."

"Wonderful," Helen retorted, "just what we need during our financial crisis, a night out schmoozing, drinking and trying to be sociable. I don't feel much like being sociable and certainly not with a roomful of suits!"

"Oh come on Helen, firstly it's a free do and secondly maybe us being invited is a sign that upper management have noticed me at last," he said. "I can't imagine it could be anything else."

>

>

>

The night of the function arrived and Helen had made every effort to look glamorous, not that she needed to try that hard. As she slipped on her 4" heels, she took a moment and stood back to scrutinize herself in the mirror. A frown appeared on her beautiful face. She moved back closer to the mirror, to peer intently at the little wrinkles that were starting to appear at the corner of her eyes. At this stage it was nothing a little makeup wouldn't mask.

"Oh well, it'll have to do," she murmured to herself, with a faint smile. As usual she was doing herself a disservice. Without makeup, she was a very attractive woman, but when she made the effort to impress, she was stunning. Facially blessed with high cheekbones, she had luminous blue eyes and a wide mouth with thick heart shaped lips that gave her an unusual pout when she parted them. Which was most of the time as she smiled often, even when under severe stress. Her natural ginger hair was long and cut in such a way that made her look much younger than her thirty years.

She stood back to look at her dress, turning slightly to look over her shoulder. "Not too bad," she murmured to herself. She turned, to look over her other shoulder, smoothing the silky, satin fabric down over her body as she did so. "Yeah, not bad at all."

Her dress for tonight was a Valentino. It was red, with a round neck, lace panels and long lace sleeves. It clung to her body, highlighting her ample 36D breasts together with her full and curvaceous ass. It was a modest length for Helen, nearly reaching her knee, thus revealing a lot less thigh then she normally would. She was quite comfortable wearing skirts and dresses that exposed more of her legs. Apart from shapely and slender calves she had fabulous thighs and seemingly liked to flaunt them, a fact that she hotly denied when teased about it by Mike.

"You look nice," Mike said, his sudden appearance making her jump, as he breezed quickly into the bedroom.

"Come on, come on, it's time to go, we don't want to be late," he barked irritably at her, already out of the bedroom as she turned to speak to him.

Helen frowned at his disappearing back. You look nice. NICE! Is that all he could say after she'd spent the best part of two hours primping and preening herself to look good for him; for an event SHE didn't even want to go to? Taking a final look at herself in the mirror, and satisfied with what she saw, she picked up her purse and followed him downstairs.

>

>

>

When they entered the Function Room at the hotel, Helen was aware of eyes turning to look at her. She flushed slightly as she made herself look around the room. It was busy. A lot busier than Mike had intimated it would be.

"You'd better get me a drink," she whispered to Mike, "in fact you'd better make it two," she added with a nervous giggle.

"Nervous?" Mike asked, amused at his wife's discomfort. He knew functions like this always made her edgy at first. She wasn't good with a crowd of people she didn't know. But it was nothing a few drinks wouldn't overcome.

"Just a bit" she replied.

But as the evening progressed, so Helen relaxed. The generous alcoholic drinks certainly helped her in that respect. She soon found herself to be the center of some attention, which she actually began to enjoy, even going so far as to flirt with some of Mike's work colleagues. Mike had wandered off to network, or so he put it. He'd just returned to her side as George Benson made his entrance into the room.

> > >

George was the CEO of Worldwide International Holdings and he had arrived late; as he usually did; although this time he had a reasonable excuse, not that he ever needed to give one.

It had been a rough day of high pressure meetings and he'd needed relief, which always meant something sexual. He had just fucked a beautiful girl from the escort agency. It wasn't the best fuck he'd ever had, but it had taken the edge off his tension. It would have to do for the time being.

As he usually did at these company functions, George idly scanned the room to see if there was anyone there that might be worthy of his special attentions. He saw some of the wives looking expectantly at him. He nodded his acknowledgement, as he gave each one a thin smile. He'd already sampled their wares. There was no denying it, they were all attractive, plus they were all pretty decent in bed, but tonight he was after fresh meat.

As he looked around a second time, he was suddenly aware of a group across the other side of the room. It seemed to be mostly men but suddenly, as another man approached, they all moved to one side to reveal an attractive woman standing in their midst.

He turned to his aide, who as usual was hovering at his side. He motioned across the room. "Stanley, who's that man over there? The one that's standing next to the ginger haired woman?"

Stanley peered over to where George had indicated.

"That would be Mike Grube, one of your Account Executives from the sixth floor," he answered.

"I've not seen him before," George said thoughtfully, as he continued to look.

"No sir, you won't have," Stanley replied, "this is the first time he's been invited to one of these functions, even though he moved up to the sixth floor some time ago."

"So, who's that woman with him?"

"That would be his wife, Helen. I've never met her and it was only recently that I saw a picture of her," Stanley replied.

George smiled to himself. Stanley knew how much he hated these tedious events, so he always arranged for someone to be present that he thought might pique his interest. And tonight that someone would be Helen Grube. He'd also just given his excuse as to why the Grubes' had not been previously invited.

"Very good Stanley," George said, as he took another look across the room, drinking in the sight before him. It never failed to amaze him how much the female form turned him on. He knew what he liked; which was pretty much everything. But if he had to be pushed on the subject, his idea of female perfection was well defined.

Her legs would have slender but shapely calves. Her thighs would be curvaceous and toned. Her butt would be rounded and full. And her breasts would be big and firm. Looks came a distant second. Even if the woman was moderately attractive, as long as she had a great body he'd try and fuck it.

Sadly for Helen Grube, she fulfilled all of his requirements and then some.

He cocked his head to one side as he perused his subject. He considered himself an expert when it came to women's attire and measurements. From where he stood he could make out that her shapely legs, sheathed in sheer stockings, exactly matched his requirements. Not only that, they were stunningly enhanced by her stilettos that he judged to have at least a 4" heel.

Her red dress, which was revealing a hint of her firm and shapely thighs, was mouth-wateringly clingy. It was not particularly revealing but even at this distance he could see the curve of her hips, the flatness of her stomach, the swell of her rounded butt and the bulge of her large breasts, which he surmised were probably at least a C cup, maybe bigger.

She was slender, but statuesque, probably at least 5'7" tall and was most definitely attractive with her long ginger hair. She had a pleasant, happy look about her. Her smile was wide, almost a laugh, showing a lot of white teeth. She was very nice ... very nice indeed!

> > >

Across the room from George, Mike Grube nudged his wife. "That's the big boss ... George Benson ... over there, he's just come in."

Helen looked over. "What, that's him? He's very attractive ... for an older man," she said, with a smirk.

"Well if he comes over, please be nice to him, my career could do with a boost," Mike said, laughing nervously, and ignoring his wife's flirtatious remark.

"What do you mean?" Helen asked cheekily, "surely it's not up to me to get your career back on track, is it?"

Mike sighed. "All I meant is that in today's corporate world, companies look at all aspects of the executive's life ... including partners ... to see if they are the right types to be worthy of advancement."

"Yeah, sure," Helen laughed. She was teasing him, but it was almost no fun. He was so tense and easy to wind up, it was almost unfair. "Can you get me another drink darling?" she asked, wiggling her empty glass in front of him.

As Mike walked off to the bar, Helen was again the focus of attention as the men closed quickly around her. She was laughing at their feeble attempts to chat her up, when she was aware of a presence and a change of mood among her hopeful suitors. It was then she realized that George Benson had walked over to join them.

"Excuse me gentlemen," George said as he brushed past her admirers, who parted like the waters of the Red Sea at his approach. He held out his hand, which Helen felt compelled to take.

"Care to dance my dear," he added seductively, and not waiting for an answer, he swept her out onto the dance floor where a slow number was playing. He pulled her close, squishing her breasts against his surprisingly firm chest. It was far too close for a first meeting; but Helen, mindful of what her husband had said, let it slide.

"I hope you don't mind, but I thought you needed rescuing," George said, as they circled around the dance floor, moving easily together to the music.

"No, not at all," Helen laughed. For George it was a dazzling sight to behold. Her full red lips were so perfect, so right for kissing, so right for sliding his cock between. Right on cue he felt it begin to rise. Dropping his hand from her back, he slid it lower until it was resting at the top of her ass. He pulled her closer.

"I'm George Benson, the CEO of the company."

"Yes I know who you are Mr Benson," she replied.

"Please, please call me George."

"Okay ... George," she said, smiling brightly.

"So tell me Helen, why have I not seen you before at one of these tedious functions?"

"Well, this is our first invitation..." she paused before continuing, "but tell me, how do you know my name?"

"I take it upon myself to know everyone's name," George replied, with a smile, "especially the women ... and in particular ... the beautiful ones."

The way he said it sent a shiver coursing through Helen's body. She closed her eyes briefly, trying to ride out the unsettling sensation, as her heart began to beat just a little bit faster.

"My, my George, I do believe you're flirting with me," Helen smiled coyly, quickly recovering her poise.

"Not at all my dear, I'm way better at flirting than that." He smiled at her. "I'm merely stating a fact. You are extremely beautiful."

"Well thank you kind sir," she drawled in a faux southern accent, throwing in a small curtsy to him as she spoke.

"My pleasure," he replied with a grin. "So Helen what do you do for a living? I assume you work?"

"Yes I do, I have my own interior design business," she answered proudly.

"Really, so how's that going?" George asked, his interest peaked.

"Very well," she lied, "in fact it's going VERY well. We have a number of interesting commissions we're working on at the moment."

George swung Helen through a series of complicated dance moves that took her by surprise. It briefly killed the conversation and left her a trifle breathless. As they settled back down he pulled her tighter to him and smiled. He was loving how she fit against his body.

And whilst she was slender she still had fleshy curves in all the right places. In particular he already liked the feel of her breasts against his chest; he'd upgraded her potential C cup to a D cup; and pleasingly he was convinced he could feel her erect nipples pressing against his chest.