My Father's Second Wife Ch. 02

We all sat and considered the problem, although Margo was the only one with the resources to solve anything.

Then, to everyone's surprise, Tina spoke, "There is something that Mr. Grant likes to do that would get him 'good and sweaty,' as you said."

Margo slowly turned to look at Tina. My perverted mind immediately leapt to the conclusion that Tina was asking to fuck my dad. Margo seemed apprehensive.

Margo spoke softly to Tina, "Are you sure you want to do that? You know how big he is."

Oh, I totally guessed right! But I didn't know what Margo was so concerned about. I knew girls in high school, no bigger than Tina, that rode some pretty fat sticks, and lived to brag about it.

Margo twisted her head to one side, indicating that she didn't think this was a good idea, but since everyone was out of ideas, it looked like Tina's won by default.

She said to Tina, "OK, if that's what you want to do, I'll help you get ready. You go get clean, and I'll be in a bit."

Tina did a little hop of excitement, and scampered out of the room, happy to be of service.

I pondered the phrase "help you get ready." That seemed a weird thing to say. What's to get ready? Maybe I misread what was going on.

Margo went back to work. After several minutes, she looked up at me and asked, "Are you ready for your first job?"

I threw my shoulders back and said, "I'm ready as I'll ever be."

"Good," Margo replied. "You get to inform your dad,"—she caught herself and coughed to cover it—"sorry, Mr. Grant, of the change in schedule. Tell him the two o'clock is still on, the Kyrgyzstan meeting has been moved to eight at the Four Seasons, and I'm working on filling in the rest."

She handed me an electronic tablet, displaying the new schedule, complete with a big red "TBD" between 3:00 and 5:30, and pointed me towards the massive parquet doors that led into my dad's private office. I stood frozen.

"Time is money," Margo sang, tapping the imaginary watch on her wrist.

I took a deep breath and put one foot in front of the other.

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Before I knew it, I was sticking my head through the doorway and quietly calling "Excuse me, may I come in?"

My father looked up from something he was reading. He was wearing one of his fabulous suits, Armani, possibly. I don't know much about suits, except that my dad has excellent taste in them.

His face broke into a huge grin, then he attempted to contain himself and look businesslike and serious.

"Yes, please come in," he said, his voice a little lower than normal.

I walked briskly across the room, clutching the tablet to my chest. In my own yellow suit, I looked the part.

My dad leaned back in his chair and relished the moment. When I got to his desk, he said, "I don't think we've been introduced." OK, that's silly, but I can play his game.

"My name is Charlotte, sir," I said. "I'm the new intern."

"I'm pleased to meet you Charlotte, what have you got for me?" he asked.

I told him about the change in flights, the change in meeting time, and the rest.

He asked me, "What's the schedule after 3:00 look like now?"

"Ms. Lane is working on that," I replied, smartly sidestepping the issue.

Father contemplated all of this for a moment and then threw me a curve ball. He asked, "Why couldn't our jet pick them up?"

Shit! I didn't know what to say to that. I felt a cold sweat creep across my skin. Without thinking, I lied, "Something to do with the weather," I said, leaving the sentence unfinished.

Silence. And then, blessedly, he smiled and said, "Thank you very much Charlotte. I hope to see you around, and I hope you stay with us after your internship ends."

I bowed forward slightly and said, "You're very welcome, sir. I hope to be here a long time too," and walked briskly out of the room.

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When I got back to Margo, she was patiently waiting for my return. "How did he take it?" was her question.

I told her he took in all in stride, save one minor mishap. "He asked me why we didn't have the jet pick them up," I said, painfully.

"And what did you tell him," asked Margo, who now sounded like she does when she talks to Tina.

"I lied and told him it was weather," I said, wincing.

Margo took a long, audible, breath in through her nose, filling her lungs, before finally exhaling. She was trying to remain calm.

"You remember what the only rule is, right?" she asked. I nodded I did.

"The corollary is that you never, ever, do what Mr. Grant hates. And one thing Mr. Grant hates, more than anything, is being lied too," she said, stabbing her finger into the desk to make her point.

I swallowed. This hit me harder than Margo could have possibly guessed. I thought back to all the times I'd lied to my dad. I'd lied about where I was going at night, about drinking, about smoking, about fucking. I'd lied about my grades, and that car crash I claimed was a hit and run. Now I discover this is what my dad hates more than anything? Fuck. No wonder we never got along.

Not knowing what I was going through, Margo continued. "It's sweet what you did, but you don't have to cover for Tina. Tina's a big girl," Margo was stopped by the absurdity of the statement. She started again, saying, "Tina's an adult, and Mr. Grant is a really smart guy. He knows people make mistakes. He's not going to fire Tina, or even give her any grief. Repeatedly making mistakes is a sign of incompetence, but even the most brilliant screw up occasionally, and Mr. Grant knows that."

I parried by asking, "But didn't you lie to him when you had me tell him that you were 'working on something' to fill in his afternoon?"

Margo said, "Not at all, that was one hundred percent true. I just glossed over the details."

She sat back down at her desk, and then looked up at me again, saying, "If you wanted to lie, you could have told him you didn't know. That's completely believable, you being so new to the office. The best lie has a kernel of truth."

"OK," she pronounced. "Let's go check on Tina and get you to your first meeting." Margo got up and walked to the back of the office. I followed.

The mysterious entrance at the back of her office turned out to be a short passageway, no more than 3 feet wide, that lead to a door, the exact width of the passage. There were sliding panels on one side, possibly storage. Margo reached out her hand to the door handle, grabbed it, and then froze. She just held onto the handle for several seconds. I didn't know if she had changed or mind, or had a stroke, or what. Then I saw a tiny LED light on the lock turned from yellow to green. Margo pushed down on the handle, the door opened, and we went through.

Walking again, Margo held up her bracelet for me to see, saying, "Wireless ID chip embedded in my bracelet. It gives us access to all the executive suites and offices. You'll get one. IT can attach it to just about anything you want: your keychain, watch, cell phone, jewelry, whatever."

She leaned in closer to me, and whispering in my ear, said, "Diane had it attached to her clit ring." She smirked, terribly amused to tell me this. "She's never been locked out of the office!"

The other side of the door connected to a short hall, which opened out into an office area with various cubicles and workspaces. Light from floor to ceiling windows poured in. There were, maybe, a dozen people working back here, and clearly room for more.

I spotted Tina emerging from the rest room, which prompted Margo to say, "Perfect timing."

Margo led Tina and I into a break room. There were tables and chairs, a refrigerator, sink, counter space, cabinets, coffee machine, espresso machine, and even a small stove.

Tina walked over to the counter and bent forward. She was leaning on the counter with her hands, presenting us with her stick figure butt. Margo folded up the hem of her shift to expose her ass. I was surprised to see Tina wasn't wearing any panties. I then remember where I was, and made a mental note to stop being surprised by that.

Tina was skinny. Her butt was a boy's butt, flat and angular. You could see her hip bones, like the fins of an old car, sticking up on either side. You could count her vertebrae going up from the point where her ass cheeks would have met, if her ass cheeks were big enough to touch each other.

Margo opened a drawer and reached in to pulled something out. When I saw what she had in her hand, my only thought was "Holy Fuck!"

Margo and Tina both turned to look at me. I guess I must have said that out loud.

Margo was holding a large, black and white, striped anal plug. It looked like it was, maybe, six inches long and two inches at its widest. I guessed it was made of soft plastic or silicone, with a rectangular base. I looked at the butt plug. I looked at Tina's little rosebud. I concluded that was never going to happen.

All the pieces to the puzzle then fell into place, and I said, "Oh my God, Tina, you're going to let my dad fuck you in the ass?" with more volume than was needed, or appropriate.

Margo opened a tube of lubricant, and calmly said, "Did you think a blowjob or lazy screw was going to do it? For your dad, that's like a cup of coffee. Tina has to wear him out."

Tina's eyebrows were knitted, the look of a pleading question on her face. Maybe Tina didn't understand what she had volunteered for after all? Margo understood her confusion, and answered her unspoken question.

"Yes, Charlotte is Mr. Grant's daughter," she said. Then making a point to look directly at me, she said, "She's not supposed to advertise that fact, but she's getting better."

I had mixed emotions. I felt bad I'd let it slip that the boss was my dad. I feared Tina would never be able to sit again. I was confused why Tina was so concerned that I was the boss' daughter, but did not seem to be worried that said boss was going to shove his meat poll up her tiny bottom.

Margo smeared a liberal amount of lube on the plug and walked around to stand right next to Tina's hips. Margo steadied her hips by clamping them between her free hand and her own hip. Margo began to insert the plug into Tina's asshole.

Tina flinched a little when it first touched her rear entrance. Margo began to slowly twist it, left and then right, ever so gently pushing forward, a little more with each twist. Nothing seemed to happen for almost a minute, except that Margo was creating a big indentation in her backside.

Then, all at once, Tina's sphincter finally accepted the intruder. The tip was suddenly inside her, along with about a quarter of its length. I thought I heard a little gasp from Tina. Margo stopped and let Tina adjust to her new friend.

"How are you doing?" Margo asked her.

"I'm OK," Tina replied.

Margo then started to slowly twist the bulbous shape again, each time working the plug just a little further into her bowels.

Margo was making good progress, having gotten more than half its length in, when a man came into the break room. I think it was the same one I saw Margo talking to when I first showed up this morning.

The man surveyed the scene: Tina's bare ass, Margo working a butt plug into it, and me in my role as official bystander. Then, for reasons that didn't align with anything I thought I knew about the male brain, this guy decided I was most interesting thing in the room.

"Hi, I'm Brian," he said, sauntering over. "You must be the new intern."

"Charlotte," I said, and we shook hands.

Tina was starting to wiggle her butt around, uncomfortably, as Margo started to get to the wide part of the plug. Brian was still ignoring that and looking at me.

"Hey, some of the gang and I could meet up after work," said Brian, as if the idea just came to him. "I could introduce you to everyone." I've heard that tone before; I was suspicious that the only name Brian wanted me to know was the nickname he'd given his dick. Guys like that always had names for their dicks.

I was still too distracted by what was happening to Tina, just a few feet away, to make any social decisions. I was struggling to assemble a reply, when Margo saved me.

"Not tonight, Brian," Margo said flatly.

Brian took the hint and, still talking to me, said, "Well, maybe later this week then?"

I wasn't sure if Brian expected a specific commitment from me now, or if that was just a vague suggestion.

I was trying to decide when, again, Margo interceded, "Aren't you supposed to be preparing for the two o'clock meeting?" Margo asked, not even looking at Brian. She was now twisting and pumping the plug in and out of Tina's asshole. It seemed almost inconceivable a few minutes ago, but Margo had gotten her ass to accept almost three quarters of the plug. Of course, as she got closer to the widest part, it was going to get a lot more difficult.

Brian put his hand up in a kind of "you got me" gesture, refilled his coffee cup, mouthed "Later" to me, and left the room, only once glancing at the debauchery over at the counter.

Tina was now clearly uncomfortable. She was shifting her hips, clutching the edge of the counter, and occasionally lifting a foot off the ground. Margo would slowing twist it in as far as it would go, hold it there for a moment, and when Tina couldn't take it anymore, backed it out to let her relax, before going in again.

As if none of that was going on, Margo started to idly talk about Brian. "Brian can be a tool, and he's a hound dog," she said. "He will 'woo you until he beds you'—his words, not mine."

"So I shouldn't fuck him, in other words," I said.

"Fuck him if you want, or not, that's your decision," she said. Tina was now making little mewling noises. Margo leaned down and talked softly to her, "You're doing fine, we're almost there. Just breath and relax. The more you can relax, the easier this will go."

She returned to talking to me, saying, "I'm just saying that Brian is best when kept at arm's length. Oh, if you decide not to fuck him, you should probably know that you and Diane will be the only ones in the office who haven't. Oh, and maybe Peter, but I'm not sure about that."

The comment about Peter made Tina laugh, but was cut off by another slow thrust from Margo.

Margo stopped and held the butt plug still. She spoke to Tina again, saying, "You're almost there, baby. Big breath and we're home free."

Tina took a big breath and blew it out as hard as she could. Margo performed one more slow twist, and it slipped past the wide end of the plug and was sucked into her rectum. The base and stem of the plug was now all that was visible.

Margo let go of her grip and twisted the base so it was vertically aligned with her ass crack. She affectionately patted Tina's cheeks as Tina stood up, her shift falling back down over her ass.

Margo said, "Well done. Let that settle in for awhile. Remember to pull it out, just past the widest part, and back in again, a few times before we get back. If you have trouble getting it back in, find a chair and sit on it."

Tina nodded that she understood. Margo kissed her on her cheek, turned to me, and said, "Let's move, or we're going to be late." I followed Margo, at a trot, to my first meeting.

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We got at the conference room with two minutes to spare. Surprisingly, we were the first to arrive. It was a spacious room, with a large oval table—wood, of course—in the center. There were about sixteen padded swivel chairs around it, and another dozen plain ones lined up against one long wall. A media center was at the far end of the room. The third wall was all glass, with a sweeping, although not particularly scenic, view of the more industrial part of the city.

Margo led me to the far end of the table, and sat me in the first chair lined up against the wall. "Observe and learn, my young protégé," she said, and then began setting out prepared packages of documents on the table.

While she was doing this, I asked her, "Is Tina going to be all right?" I was genuinely concerned for her safety.

"Tina will be fine," Margo said, confidently. We heard the sound of people approaching. She quickly added, "I'll tell you all about Tina a little later."

At that moment, my father entered into the room, followed by two older businessmen in brown suits that looked drab compared to father's. Following them were two women I'd never met, and Brian. Brian nodded his head and smiled at me, like we were old friends, or something.

Margo snapped to attention. Father took a seat at my end of the table, only then did Margo sat down opposite him and prepare to take notes. Brian sat on father's side, but with a couple of seats between them, and the rest of the group sat down opposite to Brian.

I soon learned that the four people I didn't know were from a company pitching a manufacturing management system. There were names and terms I didn't understand, but I was surprised about what I did know and that I could follow the general gist of the discussion. In a nutshell, the group was claiming that their system improved yields by identifying failures during the manufacturing process, rather than waiting until the end. Cool idea, really.

I don't know if it was nerves, the number of people in the room, or the season, but the room felt warm. I unconsciously started to unbutton my jacket to get some air. Margo somehow caught my attention, and indicated "no," with a shake of her head that was so subtle, no one else noticed. I panicked as I realized my mistake: my top was sheer, and I wasn't wearing a bra, slip, or any other kind of underwear. Hoping no one would notice, I very slowly began to button up my jacket again. No one did, and I sighed with relief. Margo gave me a little wink.

The meeting went on for some time, and then they started talking about yield rates. I'd only taken one semester of statistics, but one set of numbers they keep using just didn't seem right to me. As I was trying to figure out what was wrong, I must have been scowling, because Margo noticed and came over and sat beside me.

"What is it, sweetie?" she asked.

I was still pondering the problem. I paused as I worked it out, and finally said, "The numbers they're using aren't meaningful. They're subtracting the failure ratio during manufacturing from the total production failure ratio, but that's nonsense. The two ratios mean different things, and you can't just subtract one from the other."

Margo considered this for a moment. I half expected her to dismiss me, with an "Oh hun, the big boys know what they're doing," sort of comment. She surprised me when she didn't. She patted my knee, got up, came up behind father, and whispered something into his ear.

Margo then returned to her seat. Father began scrutinizing the charts and tables in front of him. A half minute later, he crooked his at finger Brian, who came over next to him. He leaned over, and they had a short, inaudible conversion. Brian then returned to his seat and resumed the discussion. Within a few minutes, Brian got on the subject of yield ratios, and began questioning some of their numbers. There were some awkward silences.

Father broke the lull by saying, "Well, this is a very interesting approach, and we have a lot to think about. Give us a few days to review this, and we'll talk again." He rose, everyone else rose, he shook some hands, and left, Brian in tow.

I waited while Margo talked with the group about scheduling the next meeting, sending over more material, and general well wishes and goodbyes. When we were the last ones remaining Margo said, "Let's go get Tina."

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We retraced our path from the conference room to the executive offices. Margo excused herself and ducked into the rest room. I timidly explored the offices. About five minutes later, Margo reappeared.

Margo and I found Tina in her cubicle typing on her computer. It was somewhat awkward, because she was trying to do it standing. "Gee, I wonder why?" I asked myself, sarcastically.