Pamela Ch. 09: Ladies Doubles

"Yep!" I replied, cursing him under my breath. "How could I forget it?"

"Well, Samantha wondered if I would like to invest in the club which would get me shareholder membership and you associate membership as my other half," she went on. "I understand there's a waiting list but, as an investor, I would be fast-tracked. I thought you might be interested."

"Well, yeah," I replied, "but won't that cost you an arm and a leg?"

"Yes it would under normal circumstances," she retorted, "but there are very few lady shareholders and the board are keen to attract more to increase diversity, you know, like everything else these days. If I did invest, Samantha thinks I could get a one percent shareholding for half the normal investment."

"How much would you be talking about?" I asked. "I mean ..."

"Look, I've been looking for something to do with the money my uncle left me," she interjected, "and Samantha has been very good in making sure I know what I would be letting myself into and she would do all the arranging for me. I just thought that with our new hobby ..."

"You mean pussy hunting?" I put in, smiling.

"Well, yes," she admitted, suddenly sounding embarrassed, "but if you don't think it's a good idea then I'll forget it."

"No, no, no," I rebutted. "I just don't want you to lose your inheritance, nothing more. If you want to invest, then go ahead, I'm fine, honestly."

Pamela was silent for a few moments.

"Samantha also said that as I would be a prospective shareholder," she said at last, "she could get me a complimentary membership for twenty-four hours so I could experience the place with a guest."

"A guest?" I challenged. "Got anyone in mind?"

"I'll have to think about it," she teased, "but in case I can't find anyone else, would you be prepared to go along?"

I laughed.

"Of course I would," I replied, prompting a kiss on my cheek as we pulled up at the first red light. "The things I do for you!"

We arrived at her office not many minutes later than normal and she slid out, straightening her dress and collecting her things.

"See you at one o'clock," she reminded me, not that I was likely to forget. With a wave, I pulled out into the traffic to drive the few minutes across town to my office which, like in most towns, could be done in half the time on foot.

I arrived to find the man on reception at his post so advised him that Pamela would be arriving at lunchtime and that he had my authority to give her access to the lift without my having to come down to escort her.

"Not the blonde from yesterday?" he teased with a knowing smile.

"Sorry, mate, not today," I replied, partially truthful, as I had high and hard hopes for the evening.

"She was a cracker!" he gushed. "An absolute cracker. Made my day!"

"Well, hopefully you'll be seeing far more of her in the future," I advised, his interpretation of my words opening his eyes so wide I thought they were going to pop out. "See you later."

I returned to my office and logged onto the system before going to the kitchen to make tea, returning with my favourite mug to settle down at my desk to go through the emails. My heart jumped a beat when I saw there was one from Hayley.

"Oh no, please," I begged, opening it. "Don't resign before you've started!"

"Frank," I read. "I just want you to know that I'm fine with what might, and what might not happen at your place this evening, provided you are. As Gemma explained to me, these 'gatherings', if I can use such a term, never happened afterwards. To be honest, I'm incredibly excited at the prospect but if you feel it an inappropriate relationship not to happen, if you understand me, then I shall withdraw from this evening without reservation. Please let me know. Hayley x"

I smiled and typed a response.

"Hayley," I read back, "Thank you for your email. I too am incredibly excited at the prospect of you joining our 'gathering' this evening. Don't forget your white tennis gear! Frank"

I hit send, well aware I had a hard on to remember and sat still waiting expectantly on the unlikely event that she would respond, my mug of tea going cold. I closed my eyes. This was just surreal. She wasn't going to respond, was she? Certainly not using the office email as it would leave a trail. I swallowed deeply, trying to remain calm. Then I saw her name in the inbox. My heart beating like a drum, I clicked on it.

"Can you call my mobile? Hayley x" I read, my mouth turning dry. And a kiss.

Her mobile? What was the number? Then I remembered she had called my mobile to advise she was accepting the job. I took my iPhone from my jacket pocket and soon found her number. Breathless, I hit the call button and waited until the call rings ceased.

"Do you want me in the longer pleated tennis skirt," she purred, dispensing with a greeting with utter eroticism pouring from every syllable, "or the shorter straight one that shows off my white knickers if I lean over at the net?"

"Fuck!" I said to myself, trying to pull myself together.

"I think ...," I began, hesitating as sweat beads started to form on my temple, "I think the pleated one might be best as then you can dispense with knickers."

I held my breath.

"You like the idea of me playing tennis without knickers, do you?" she whispered. "Why is that?"

"I mean, well, you know ...," I stammered. "Maybe ..."

"Maybe it would be best if I wear the straight skirt with no knickers then," she put in, "so you'll be able to see a lot more. Would you like that?"

The tension was overwhelming. I raised a false laugh.

"You're dreadful," I accused. "You know that?"

"Why?" she asked, her voice serious. "Don't tell me you don't find me attractive. Other than when you were lusting at Gemma, you spent the entire lunchtime mentally undressing me. Go on, admit it."

I laughed again. Crushed.

"OK, I admit it," I conceded. "Guilty as charged. I'll go quietly, guv."

This time she laughed.

"You're something else," I stated, shaking my head. "I can see there's never going to be a dull moment in this office with you around."

"So?" she said, confusing me again. "Pleated or straight? Which is it to be?"

"I think it would be wise to wear the pleated one," I reflected, before adding, "with knickers, at least to begin with."

"OK, I'll accept your advice," she admitted before laughing again.

"Where are you?" I asked, sensing her conversation wasn't quite decorum in a legal practice as far as I knew. "In the office on your last day?"

"I'm at home," she replied. "I got back last night from Gemma's place and this morning there was a knock at the door about seven thirty. It was a courier with a box of all my effects from the office. My boss must hate me so much. I assume him telling me to take the afternoon off yesterday seemed such a good decision he wanted to avoid seeing me on my last day. Still, I'm not losing any sleep over him."

"So you've got a free day," I observed. "Enjoy it as it'll be crazy from next Monday."

"That's what I'm looking forward to," she acknowledged. "It's been day after day of boredom for so long. Bring on the excitement, I'm ready for it."

"So you'll be at Gemma's place when Pamela and I get there?" I asked. "It should be just after four."

"Yes," she confirmed. "I'll do a little shopping later and go round there in time for afternoon tea."

"So you didn't find time to go shopping yesterday afternoon then?" I teased, speculatively. "I thought that was what you were planning."

"That's right," she admitted with a laugh, "but then you told Gemma that I thought she was sexy, so it was your fault I never made it shopping!"

"I don't know what you're talking about," I claimed, smiling. "Honestly."

"Yeah, right," she retorted before pausing. "No, I'm glad you did. It came out of the blue. New job, new relationship and after I've been shopping today, new outfits for next week."

"Wow!" I cried. "I'll look forward to that."

"Listen, I mustn't keep you," she said. "I was on my way to the shower when I decided to have a little fun after your email response with the comment about tennis gear, and I'm getting cold."

"You mean ...," I began.

"No, I'm not naked," she interjected. "I'm in a black chiffon see-through nightdress ..."

"Oh hell!" I cried, hearing her burst into laughter. "I'll see you just after four."

"You will," she replied. "Bye."

I replaced my phone in my jacket pocket and, my mug of tea having gone cold, went and replaced it before reverting back to my inbox. One item particularly caught my eye as it from Jun Miyazaki, the Asian wife of an existing customer of mine from London. Some years ago, he had moved to the Far East to be closer to his business and it was there that he met Jun and they had married, which surprised some as he was at least thirty years her senior. In fact, the last time I was in the Far East I had met up with both of them for dinner and spent the night back at the hotel playing with my cock with an image in my mind's eye of Jun sitting on it while she played with her huge tits.

In her email, Jun told me that they had both returned to London after a couple of years but then she found out that he had been playing around with other women for some time. One thing led to another and eventually she had successfully sued him for a divorce. Now, she was wondering whether I was likely to be in Town in the near future as she was looking for advice regarding what to do with her settlement which ran into tens of millions of pounds. I blew out my cheeks at the thought. The timing was bad, of course, with my partner Boz having walked out, but opportunity knocks as they say. If I did go I could do the rounds on all of my modest collection of clients in the city and, potentially drum up some new business at the same time, maybe even generating more than enough commission to keep Pamela in designer lingerie for some time.

I emailed Jun back to say I would see what I could do. Half an hour later she emailed me back, suggesting I might stay at their Notting Hill town house, which was now hers as part of her settlement, and bring Pamela with me as they had never met and the two of them might do a little shopping while I was working. Why not? And Pamela and Jun? More Asian pussy? The thought of Jun joining us in the sack almost blew me away. I was about to set off to refresh my mug of tea when a familiar ring-tone sounded on my iPhone.

"Hi, baby," I greeted. "Everything OK?"

"You're not going to believe this," she began, "but I've now had acceptances from all four applicants for the house party next week."

"Including Solita Lynn?" I asked, somewhat redundantly. "Oh sorry, you said all four."

"Yes, but get this," she continued. "The other three have also sent us a video of themselves like Jessica Redmond did."

"Really!" I cried, astonished and thrilled. "That's amazing. You must have typed video rather than photograph in the invitation you sent out. Did you?

"No, I couldn't have done, surely," she replied, her voice sounding uncertain. "Hold on, let me check."

I smiled to myself while I waited. Surely she hadn't? Could she have?

"I did," she admitted when she came back. "That wasn't planned, honest."

"So now we have videos of all four applicants playing with themselves," I summarised, starting to laugh with the reality. "I have to hand it to you, baby, that's wonderful!"

"Yeah, so I don't think it makes sense my coming around to your office at lunchtime to watch Jessica as there isn't time to watch all of them," she went on. "I think we should save them all for tomorrow or whenever we have some us-time."

"I think you're right," I replied, shaking my head with disbelief. "There's one thing, though, all four must really want the job!"

"Yes, they must," confirmed Pamela. "It's going to be tough making a decision."

"Oh, another thing just before you hang up," I put in. "Do you remember Jun Miyazaki, the young Asian girl who married my client Dixon Kuntz, who was years older than her and the guy who made millions out in the Far East?"

"Yes, I remember the name but we never met," replied Pamela. "What of it?"

I told her and the reaction was predictable.

"I'd love to go," she announced. "It's a while since I've been anywhere. Let me know when you've got an idea when it might be. I assume it will be soon."

"Yes," I agreed. "I don't want to lose the chance of her business."

I closed the call and, holding my mug with both hands, sipped my tea and thought again about Jun Miyazaki. She would be around forty by now, maybe even a year or two more. Her marriage to Dixon Kuntz clearly hadn't stopped his roving eye for a pretty girl and Jun was certainly that. At a little over five feet tall, her slim but shapely figure with jaw-dropping tits and gorgeous legs had been obvious attractions but I recalled her face with more than a little admiration. Her piercing eyes and lovely smile with short hair was infectious. She was an absolute cracker and I was already looking forward to the trip to see her.

I pulled myself together and made a couple of calls to clients before doing some paperwork until lunchtime when I thought I would pop out as usual for a sandwich and a newspaper. Then I remembered my unread newspaper of the previous day, or rather, what I had bought at the same time: the issue of 'First Service' tennis monthly with Eugenie Bouchard featured on the cover. I opened my briefcase to get it and placed it on the desk in front of me, my eyes focused on hers as she smiled at the camera, off court, dressed in an all-white outfit of tight skirt and top with an open jacket. She was gorgeous.

On the cover, the banner claimed: 'I need to feel it again!" I groaned, despite knowing she was referring to getting back into the groove of success on court. What I did know was I was more than happy to help her feel my cock and get it into her groove. Oh what a thought.

I was on the point of turning the page when my office phone rang.

"Frank McMahon," I answered, sliding the magazine into the top drawer of my desk.

"Oh hello, Mr McMahon, it's reception here," said the man from the ground floor. "I have Miss Hatch here. She says she knows you aren't expecting her but wondered if you had a few minutes to spare."

"Pamela?" I cried, surprised. "Sure, send her up. Thanks."

I replaced the phone and slipped the magazine into the top drawer of my desk, wondering what she wanted, especially as we had cancelled our illicit viewing plan to watch the video of Jessica Redmond playing with herself. I stood up and made my way out of the wider office to where the lifts were. One opened just as I arrived and the lady herself appeared, smiling. Holding open the office door, I invited her in and listened as she clip-clopped across the hard flooring in her heels before settling herself in a chair opposite my desk.

"Tea?" I suggested.

"No thank you," she replied, looking around. "I was just passing and thought I would pop in before getting back to work."

I mused to myself. There was more to this than meets the eye. She was up to something but I had no idea what.

"It was a surprise hearing from Jun," I observed, making small-talk. "I was ..."

"You're on your own," she interjected with another gaze around the room.

"Well, yes," I replied. "No Boz and no Hayley until Monday."

She smiled.

"Poor you," she said. "Still, you won't be on your own this evening. Six girls and you."

"What are you up to?" I pressed. "You didn't come in just for small talk, I know you too well.

"Maybe, maybe not," she retorted, standing once more. "Anyway, I must get back. I'll see you later outside my office as arranged."

She started to make her way to the door but I caught her hand in mine, stopping her.

"You're up to something," I repeated. "I know it."

"Me?" she purred, smiling as I released her. "I don't know what you are talking about."

With that, she sailed out and I heard the clip-clop of her heels descending the stairs. I shook my head, pulling my jacket on, intending to go for a sandwich and newspaper. Locking the outer office, I too took the stairs down to reception. By now, Pamela was nowhere to be seen.

"Hi," I said to the man, looking out onto the street. "Has she gone?"

"Yes," he replied, nodding. "Miss Hatch left a moment or two ago."

I hesitated.

"When she first arrived," I asked tentatively, "did she say anything other than asking if she could pop up to see me?"

"Well ...," hesitated the man, shaking his head before his eyes opened wider with a smile, "she did ask me if Miss Francis was in the building. I told her that there was no way I would have missed her in a hundred years. She's a real ..."

"Hayley!" I said to myself, understanding. "She's checking up on me!"

I made my excuses and left the building, making for the sandwich shop, wondering what to make of it all.

After lunch I returned to the office to find an email from Pamela that she had approval to take the following week as holiday if it was helpful. I was surprised that she thought about taking the whole week off but, who understands women? Not me, but then I had an idea, particularly if Pamela had really been keeping an eye on Hayley. Why not take Pamela on the trip Hayley and I were taking to see clients the following Tuesday? She could do some shopping or something when Hayley and I were working and Pamela and I could then go on to see Jun on the Wednesday with Hayley coming back to the office by train. Not only that, it made the arrangements more palatable as Hayley and I were booked in a two-bedroom suite at the hotel overnight, a fact I hadn't broached with Pamela yet. How could she complain if she was coming along as well? I clenched my fist in triumph at my own brilliance!

Two problems presented themselves.

Firstly, I needed to check if the following Wednesday was convenient for Jun, and if it was, make arrangements for Hayley to get back to the office ... unless, after another brainwave, she came along with Pamela and I as the reason she was coming on the trip in the first place was to learn the business by meeting clients. Well, Jun was a potential client so that would work. I couldn't exactly ask Jun to have Hayley stay at her place but I could find a suitable hotel nearby for the Wednesday night and we could all travel back on the Thursday. Perfect.

Secondly, assuming it was convenient for Jun, Pamela and I were booked to see my old flame, Sheila Harrison for dinner at the 'Cock in Cider' in Suckerton, just north of our village of Little Pissington, on Wednesday night. In a way, this was easy to resolve but I didn't like rearranging other people, and I was looking forward to seeing Sheila after quite a few years. I mused. Wait a minute! With bringing forward lunch with Gail Lawrence from Sunday to Saturday, Sunday was free. Could Sheila bring it forward?

As almost everything that I did without referring to 'Head Office' went wrong, I decided to call Pamela.

"Hi, this is a surprise," she greeted cheerfully. "You don't normally call me. Is everything alright?"

"Yes, of course," I replied, laughing. "It's just that I've been thinking and ..."

"Dangerous!" she interjected. "Look what happened last time!"

"Yeah, yeah," I retorted, acknowledging my last bright idea had been more than somewhat over-rated, "but listen ..."

I explained my solution to the two problems, though didn't go into my current arrangements for the night with Hayley. She seemed enthusiastic.

"Well, I think I would contact the 'Cock in Cider' first to see if they have a table for Sunday lunch," she suggested. "If they have, reserve it for say one o'clock and if Sheila can't make it you and I can go anyway. If they haven't a table, then it's a non-starter."

"Good thinking, Batman," I acknowledged, "and if they have, contact Sheila to say I have a problem with Wednesday night that I am trying to resolve but one option is to switch to Sunday lunch if she can make it. If she can't then ask her when would be good for her."