Love, Honour and Obey

By the time Suzanne finally returned Ruth was dressed and had her make-up fixed and I just had time to sluice myself down in the bathroom. I felt as though the guilt was radiating from me but ironically it was Suzanne who was offering profuse apologies for taking so long.

"I'm so sorry..."

"No problem, Chris has kept me amused, you just give him a subject and he can give tongue to it."

We took a cab home and it was clear that Suzanne felt that I had made a good impression. I hoped that my reward would come in bed but she pleaded tiredness after a long day and I contented myself with spooning up against her naked back. I found it hard to drop off and my mind kept returning to thoughts of Ruth. Eventually, I got up to get a drink of water and when I returned it was to find that Suzanne was asleep on her back having sprawled herself across the whole bed. For a few moments I contemplated her naked form in the half light and I was filled with a warmth that only true love can bring.

Without thinking I bent between her legs and slowly began to lick. I suppose it was a form of catharsis, a way to try and rid myself of the guilt I felt over Ruth. The familiarity of the unruly nest of curls was oddly comforting and, as I gently ministered to her she rested a sleepy hand on the back of my head. My tongue was sore and so I stopped every now again only to resume with the same gossamer touch. I made no attempt to push inside and simply contented myself with caressing her labia. At some point she began to leach moisture, almost like a fine perspiration, and I collected it on my tongue and swallowed it as though it was precious ambrosia. Time seemed to stand still but the dawn chorus had started when she finally shivered into a deep, lazy, orgasm that barely disturbed her sleep.

The next morning we travelled into the office together. Suzanne had connected me with a major advertiser who was going to run an expensive campaign in the magazine. I had done some work for them previously and now they were paying for my advice on the lay out and positioning of the new ads.

Suzanne kissed me goodbye outside her office and I made my way up to the next floor to the board room. The clients were already there and we exchanged pleasantries whilst we awaited the arrival of the magazine's advertising manager. I was a little taken aback, therefore, when Gillian came into the room.

"I'm sorry to keep you gentleman. Unfortunately Dana has phoned in sick but I'm sure that I can cover all of the issues."

I had met Gillian on a number of occasions but this was the first time since she and Suzanne had become potential rivals. I must admit that this made me a little uneasy but, in the event, she was the consummate professional. In fact I would have to say that she did a remarkable job for someone filling in at such short notice and the clients were clearly impressed. This was helped, in part, by her sheer presence.

The magazine Christmas party had had a film star fancy dress theme and, with a clever application of lipstick and a little judicious padding, Suzanne had made a more than creditable job of impersonating Angelina Jolie in Lara Croft mode; but Gillian had outdone everyone as Renee Zellweger's Bridget Jones.

Suzanne bears a strong resemblance to Angelina but with Gillian the resemblance to Renee is almost uncanny. She has the same blonde hair framing a face in which her chipmunk cheeks almost cause her eyes to close when she smiles, which she does a lot of the time, showing her perfect teeth. In reality Gillian is some pounds heavier than the film character but she always wears expensive tailored clothes which serve to show off her body to its advantage.

During the course of the meeting she had flirted playfully when it suited her purposes and the clients were putty in her hands. I wondered, not without a little jealousy, if Suzanne adopted similar tactics if the need arose but we had agreed, from the outset, that, because of the ethical considerations, I would have no direct dealings with her on matters pertaining to my work for the magazine. I had, therefore, never seen her in action.

As the secretary ushered us from the board room at the close of the meeting Gillian called me back.

"Chris, could you spare me a couple of moments?"

I told my colleagues that I would catch up with them later and sat down again. Gillian came round to my side of the table and took the seat next to me.

"I understand that your meeting with Gillian went well."

I said nothing and waited for her to continue.

"I've decided to ask Suzanne to step aside."

She must have seen the instinctive flash of anger in my eyes.

"Hear me out. Claudette's husband is running for mayor next year and I know that she is going to resign so that she can support his campaign. That means that there will be a vacancy for an editor in Paris and Ruth has always made it clear that she wants the European titles to be run by Europeans."

I suddenly felt very uneasy. The prospect of Suzanne working abroad had never occurred to me.

"So why don't you stand aside and wait for the Paris vacancy?"

She looked at me as she appeared to ponder this for a moment and I felt as if she was looking into my mind.

"I suppose I could...Paris is generally considered to be the most prestigious of the European titles...wouldn't you like Suzanne to have it?"

The honest answer was no. Unlike Suzanne I could not speak French nor did I have any great love for the French as a people. The idea of relocating held absolutely no appeal and I knew that if I was engaged in a long distance relationship I would be eaten up with jealousy.

Gillian smiled, as though I had expressed these thoughts out loud, and then spoke again without waiting for my answer.

"Well, I suppose I could be induced ...why don't you try and tempt me...I understand that you have wonderful powers of oral persuasion."

I wondered if I had heard correctly but the look of the wicked amusement in her eyes left no room for doubt. I felt a tight knot in my stomach. I am as guilty as the next man of bragging about my sexual prowess amongst friends but I wondered just what Suzanne had disclosed about our love life and to whom.

I remained frozen for the next few seconds until Gillian grew impatient.

"The door is over there. Either go through it or lock it. It's up to you, Paris or London?"

As she said it she parted her legs and allowed her short skirt to ride up. Her legs were nicely tanned and she had eschewed pantyhose but I was stunned to see that she was not wearing panties either. The thought, that she had been like that throughout the whole meeting just feet away from me, was guiltily arousing.

Yet again I faced a moral dilemma. If I did what Gillian so obviously wanted Suzanne would get the London job but would she want the Paris job even more were she to become aware of the possibility? In the end my selfishness got the better of me. I got up slowly, walked to the door, and slipped the lock.

When I turned back to her she was smiling broadly.

"Let's just hope that you're as good as I hear you are."

"How do I know you'll keep your word?"

"You don't. You'll just have to trust me."

It was galling. Given a choice Gillian was almost certain to go for the more prestigious of the two jobs but I could not take the chance. I tried to muster as much dignity as I could before going down to my knees but Gillian was struck by a new idea.

"Wait!" She got up from the chair and unfastened her skirt allowing it to fall to the floor. Then, with a grace that her size belied, she eased herself up onto the boardroom table.

"I'll be able to picture this moment when Suzanne hosts her first editorial board meeting."

She leaned back, taking her weight on her forearms and opened her legs wide and I appreciated, for the first time, just how voluptuous she was. She had the toned thighs of a woman who exercised regularly but the deep creases which formed the plateau of her pudenda suggested that she would never quite convert all her body fat to muscle. Likewise, now that she had propped herself up, her clothes could no longer fully disguise the hint of plumpness around her waist.

I am not normally drawn to larger women but seeing Gillian like that I began to see what the attraction might be.

"Come on, I haven't got all day."

In keeping with her general physique her sex itself seemed larger than life. At some point she had had a Brazilian but she was allowing the hair to grow back in and her pubis was dressed with a fine haze of blonde hair that caught the overhead lights. Her long labia were already swollen and were slightly parted to reveal a glistening coral interior.

I readied myself and bowed down between her legs catching the, by now familiar, scent of a woman who had been aroused for a long time. I was left to wonder just how premeditated all this had been. Was she so sure of herself? Did she know, every time she caught my eye during the meeting, that at the end of it she would have that same face down in between her thighs?

I drew nearer and it quickly became clear that she was going to wring every ounce out of the situation.

"Kiss it...gently."

I did as she asked pecking tiny kisses across her whole mound.

"Good boy...now lick...keep it gentle."

I guessed that she wanted me to focus my attention on her labia and so I licked along each one in turn using just the tip of my tongue.

"That's nice...keep doing that."

I continued, running my tongue over the slick folds of flesh, feeling them yield at my passing, and then swelling once more as though in contentment. No further orders came for some minutes and I kept to my task with only the occasional "Oh Yes!" from Gillian to punctuate the stillness in the room.

"...use your lips"

I turned my head so that I could take each of her labia, in turn, between my lips and then, having stretched them very slightly, I used my tongue to arouse them once more. She seemed to like this and she cast her eyes heavenwards as she surrendered to the stimulation.

I was stooped awkwardly and my neck was beginning to ache but despite her apparent hurry earlier on she was certainly intent on taking a more leisurely approach now.

"...inside...slowly..."

I was pleased to be able to change my position, if only slightly, as I braced my tongue and pushed gently but firmly against her inner lips.

"...more...all the way..."

I pressed more deeply and was rewarded with a rivulet of moisture which oozed from her to dribble down my chin.

"...eat me..."

Keeping my tongue in place I opened my mouth wide and clamped myself to her. I could do little more than wiggle my tongue slightly but this seemed to have the desired effect as my mouth quickly became filled with the taste of her.

She kept me like that for some minutes but my discomfort quickly grew. My jaw began to protest and I could feel beads of sweat forming at my temples. In part this was due to the mild claustrophobia induced by valley of her powerful thighs in which I was forced to labour.

"...you know what to do..."

I took this as an instruction to finish her off and I was pleased to be able to close my mouth as I used my tongue to seek out her clitoris.

"...there!...that's it!...not too quickly!"

The tiny pleasure dome had already shed it's fleshy cloak and, following her instructions, I licked slowly. I worked patiently, sensing that she was inevitably approaching the point of no return, and then I froze. Behind me someone was trying the door.

"Don't stop!"

She pressed a hand to my head and held me with her thighs just to reinforce the message.

I increased the tempo, desperate to get free, and she immediately started to respond to the faster, more positive, movement of my tongue.

"...Yesss!...More!...Do it!"

With each exhortation she squeezed my head more tightly until, finally, the dam broke. Her ample body began to rock with the rhythm of her convulsions.

"Don't move!...Suck it!"

There was little choice my mouth was being squeezed hermetically to her sex and it was swallow or drown. She was flooding moisture and I drank it all. Off I the distance, in another world it seemed, I heard the door again but whoever it was gave up and the loudest sound in the room was Gillian's panting as she finally started to recover.

"Suzanne's a very lucky woman. If you and she ever decide to call it a day you can always look me up..."

Her mischievous smile did little to dissipate the anger I was feeling but at least I had the satisfaction of knowing that Suzanne's future was secured.

"...There's a mens room just outside."

I grasped this invitation to escape and headed for the door half hoping that whoever had tried to get in earlier might come back and catch Gillian whilst she was dressing. With this image in mind I went to clean myself up.

Chapter 4

Suzanne got the London job.

Everything in the garden should have been rosy. Our love life was still not back on track but I put that down to the worrying number of hours that she worked in the days immediately following her appointment as she tried to put her personal stamp on things. To some degree matters were worse. She would come to the house expecting me to 'relax' her but then she would not spend the night. Her shared flat was far more convenient for the office and facilitated her very early starts.

I still believed that if we were only to be married everything would get back to the way it once was and to this end I kept pressing her to ask her mother over for a holiday so that at least one hurdle would be cleared. Suzanne promised that she would try but nothing materialized.

It was two weeks after her appointment that things really nosedived. It was announced that Gillian was transferring to the Paris office and it did not take long for Suzanne to put the pieces together. She was absolutely livid and it appeared that, wilfully or not, I had badly underestimated her desire for the Paris editorship.

As a result things took an unexpected turn. Suzanne knew that she had nearly a year before Claudette resigned and Gillian ascended to the throne. She determined that, in those months, she was going to make such a success of the London edition that her New York bosses would have little option other than to offer her Paris when the time came.

She threw herself into it with an almost superhuman energy and I found myself dragged along on her coat tails. My contributions to the magazine had been well received and I was getting sounded out by a couple of rival publications. My personal loyalty was never in doubt but Suzanne pushed even more work my way and I began to feel that the particular ambience that I brought to my work contributed, in some measure, to the magazine's rapidly increasing circulation figures.

Unfortunately, it meant that I was working long into the night and I had little energy left for my personal life and, physically, I was of little use to Suzanne. By the time the February edition went to press we had gone a fortnight where we had only seen one another at the office and it had been weeks before that since we had last shared a bed.

I finally took a stand when I simply fell asleep over the computer at two in the afternoon and did not wake until ten in the evening. When I awoke I could not even remember what day it was and I decided enough was enough. I did not need the punishing work schedule and Suzanne and I deserved some time to ourselves.

I decided that I was going to her flat. I could not remember the last time that I had made love to her, properly, as a man but that was going to change. I took a shower and found myself coming to an erection that still stood proud as I struggled into a fresh pair of trousers.

There was half chance that she was still working, dinners with clients having become the norm, and so I looked out the spare key which I eventually found, long abandoned, at the back of a kitchen drawer.

Having taken this positive decision I felt as though a burden had been lifted and my spirits were raised further when I drew up in the car and saw that the lights in the flat were on.

I was about to ring the doorbell when I thought why should I? I was her fiancé after all. I unlocked the door and then crept along the hall ready to surprise her.

I was brought up short by a long drawn out groan and it was certainly not the sound of someone in pain. I stood there feeling like an intruder. In my state of tunnel vision I just had not given thought to the prospect that Suzanne might not yet be home.

"Please...let me come...it's been more than an hour."

It was Gwen's voice and as I heard the words my heart began to hammer and, to my shame, it was much a matter of arousal as of guilt. Gwen, one of the flat mates, was Suzanne's friend from University, a vivacious Irish redhead who was as universally popular in her own way as Suzanne was in hers.

I felt a little better knowing it was Gwen, I knew that she would see the funny side. Had it been Irene I would not have been so sure. Irene actually owned the flat that they shared. She was in her early thirties and taught at a private girl's school. We got along but we were never going to be bosom buddies. I sometimes got the impression that she resented me because I was going to break up their cosy domestic arrangement

I started to back down the hall and I had taken just a single step when I was brought to a halt.

"Stop!...Don't you dare!...Take your hand away."

The new voice was Irene's and I was halted as much by the natural tone of authority as by what she had said. In the next few seconds my imagination painted a number of lurid pictures and I found myself waiting for something else to be said but there was nothing but a tantalizing silence.

The door to the living room was just three feet away and it was temptingly ajar. My conscience was telling me to leave immediately but it was slowly being overwhelmed by my naturally voyeuristic instincts. I told myself that one quick peek would do no harm and, having made my decision, I took a stealthy step forward and put my eye to the gap between the door and the frame.

What I saw caused me to take a sharp intake of breath. Gwen was completely naked. She was sitting in an armchair with her legs spread and draped over the arms allowing me an almost gynecological view. Her sex, with its neatly trimmed bush of red hair, was an angry pink and the fingers of her hand, where they rested on her thigh, glistened with moisture. In fact, her whole body glowed with a fine sheen of perspiration and her normally immaculate hair hung somewhat limply. Her chest was heaving and her nipples appeared to be almost painfully erect with the surrounding redness suggesting that they had been subject to some vigourous attention. Overall, she appeared exhausted.

"Get up."

"Please...let me rest."

"Don't be silly. We're just getting started. Now don't make me tell you again."

Gwen winced as she brought her legs together and, as she slowly got to her feet, it was clear that her muscles were badly cramped. She stood unsteadily with an arm across her chest and her hand covering her sex.

I had not taken a breath since taking in the scene and I now found myself trying to breathe slowly and deliberately. As I continued to watch Irene stepped into view. She was fully dressed in her usual simple and conservative mode. In typical male fashion I had often wondered how she would appear when naked even though she was not my type. She made good use of the schools expensive gym facilities and she obviously had a hard body. I had joked about this with Suzanne and, for a while, I had nicknamed her Demi referring to the character in the film "GI Jane". The impression was reinforced as she had, for some while, worn her brunette hair in a short, almost severe style.