Quite an Uplifting Speech

She didn't stay bored for long and it was well after midday before we ventured outside and went to an amazing Southern Indian curry place she frequented when in town. It was vegetarian, and it was only then I recalled her having the veggie option the night before at dinner.

The food was sensational, the best vegetarian I'd ever had, and I mentioned it. She regarded me over her dhosa. "I'm a good girl. I don't smoke, I only drink in moderation, and I never eat meat."

"Apart from at breakfast."

"I didn't technically eat it, but I gave it a lovely suck."

I had to agree. "You certainly did, Ms. Chandra."

As the meal came to a conclusion, I couldn't wait to race her back to the hotel, but when I suggested that it seemed she had other ideas.

"Hey -- I'm forty, you know. Need a little breather! How about a bottle of wine somewhere? Then maybe some dinner at the hotel later to refuel for a long, hard session. And at some stage, I will need to find a pharmacy as I'm afraid there is a bit of an emergency connected with our nocturnal activities."

My heart sank. Surely she didn't need a morning-after pill. "Shit, if you'd said, I have condoms."

"Good, because you'll need them later where you're going. I never do ass without them. But I also need lube. I can do normal size ok up the back way, but that fucking thing? No way without something to oil the wheels." She took a final bite of food. "Because, Mr. Big-dick, I haven't even started with you yet. I've been a sweet girl so far. Tonight, I get really rude and nasty!"

I felt like getting rude and nasty right away, but the lady wanted wine, so I found a nice little wine bar I had been to before in Shepherd Market and we settled in with a bottle of Merlot.

So far she had seemed reticent to talk about herself so I decided on a little gentle probing and asked what brought her to London.

"Oh, just meetings. The usual boring stuff. How the new office is going, what plans we have made for what is coming. Contingency plans, possible furloughs. You know - the boring shit we execs get wrapped up in. Nothing very exciting."

From the look on her face, I guessed that wasn't half the story. When she gazed off over my shoulder in a thousand-yard stare, her eyes glazed over, I took her hand. "Hey, everything ok?"

"Yeah, fine."

I wasn't convinced and I said so. There was a long silence, then it all came out in a rush.

"Sorry, sorry. It's just... oh fuck, James. It's why I was so shitty last night. Usually, I'm a party animal, but I got some bad news yesterday." She took a sip of wine and brushed away a tear. "I was supposed to start a new job here in London soon, but it was decided at the board meeting to put it on hold with all the uncertainty at the moment. I was so looking forward to coming to work here. I was in New York for three years before I went back to Mumbai and let's just say I made a mistake going back. I jumped at the chance of the London job and now it's been taken from me. Not to put too fine a point on it, I am fucked off royally and I could cry my fucking eyes out, which is what I did most of yesterday. At least it was until I fucked my brains out, then I felt a bit better."

I squeezed her hand. "Oh shit, so sorry to hear that, Indira. Don't worry, it will only be temporary. Hang on in there and this will be over before we know it."

She sniffed back a tear. "Thanks but don't try and bullshit me, James. Madeleine says hopefully just a few months." She closed her eyes. "Yeah, like you fucking believe that Indira, eh?" Her smile was a little lop-sided. "Best think of something to cheer me up, hey?"

My heart ached for her as I tapped at my phone for a moment and held it up, my task a success. "Found you a chemist, if nothing else."

And was I glad I found her that chemist? In the end, we skipped dinner and had another bottle of wine before we hightailed it back to room 714. I had never done anal before and she was a seasoned expert. I loved the way she slathered the lube liberally over my erection and her puckered hole. I helped her by slipping a finger inside and it whetted my appetite for the real thing. We took it gently as she got use to my size and the last few inches felt incredible as those beautiful firm buttocks pressed back against my hips. She was so tight I could barely move in her, and it was blissful to lie there buried in that hot, sticky, dark orifice as I squeezed her gorgeous breasts as she slid her vibe up the front way.

She craned her neck to kiss me and her words came out as little grunts. "God, I fucking love d.p.! Been a long time!"

Her orgasm shook her body as I slowly upped the ante and her hand was a blur as she hammered home her vibrator, my left hand wrapped around her, fingering her fat little clit. Her mouth opened in a perfect 'O' and she let go of her vibe and buried her head deep into a pillow, her cries muffled, her slim body trembling in my arms.

She lay still for a moment then pulled off me, grinning. "Think my first poo tomorrow may be uncomfortable! Right you -- on your back. I think I have a fitting reward for that very fine ass fuck and I'm going to show you just what a naughty girl I can be."

It was fifteen minutes of sheer, unadulterated bliss as her talented mouth got to work on me. Every time I got close, she took me down a little, teasing and nibbling before going feral again. After a few minutes, she picked up the tube she had availed herself of in the chemist and slathered it on her long forefinger.

"Not quite your size, but I'll still be gentle."

It was mind-blowing to feel her sticky finger wriggle up inside me as her mouth closed over me once more. Five more times she took me to the brink, tongue lapping, finger probing and finally I could take no more. She sensed it too and pulled me out, rubbing the head against her cheek, her tongue still flickering on the shaft.

Her cries as I came were almost as loud as mine as a spurt of cum shot across her lovely face, followed quickly by a second. My final ejaculation was into her open mouth and despite having come so hard just moments before, her left hand went back down and her fingers went in deep. She held her wet fingers to my mouth and as she sucked me clean, I did the same to her.

With my cock still in her mouth, she held her phone up and took a selfie. Then she took me by the hand and walked over to the bedroom mirror, cum dripping from her chin. She then proceeded to give me a demonstration at her prowess in cum-swapping as she lapped and licked at her reflection in the mirror, her face to the glass, slurping and dribbling my jizz before she ensured every drop was swallowed. She promised me one day I would get to see her do it with another woman, not just her reflection.

Once more, by the time we fell asleep, I was utterly drained and in awe of this incredible woman who was simply the most complete, generous and giving lover I had ever known.

She was also the dirtiest, nastiest and foul-mouthed lover I'd ever had. To me, that all added up to sheer perfection.

Next morning, we made tender love, a complete antithesis to the mayhem of the previous two nights. When it was time to go, we stood at the room door and she held her phone up to me. It was the selfie from the night before. Glazed lips made a perfect circle around the head of my cock, and the two parallel streaks of cum on her face ran from the corner of her mouth, across her prominent cheek bone.

"I wish I could let you have a copy. It will go in my private collection. Only special people go in there, James."

"I'm proud to be in there, Indira. And don't worry, that vision is now engraved on my soul."

She hugged me with such intensity, I could barely breathe. "I'll contact you when I'm back and I'll wear my green saree, I promise."

I had told her in the wine bar I had seen her promo pic on the website and thought the saree looked amazing.

"Can't wait." I helped her down to the waiting taxi and we hugged once more as the driver saw to her luggage. She got in the back and wound the window down.

"See you soon, yeah?

As the taxi whisked her away, we both knew that was a lie.

I was halfway home on the bus when I burst out laughing. She may have cleaned all my mess from her face the previous night, but she forgot the mirror.

Two

Once home, my euphoria didn't last long as reality crashed back in and things got worse with each passing day.

Back at the office, we began to make plans to work from home and in the last week before the first full lockdown, our evenings in the pub were tempered by the knowledge that there would not be many more.

Despite knowing it was coming, we sat in stunned silence at 6 o'clock on Friday, 20th March 2020, as the announcement was made. Pubs and restaurants would close later that evening. We had a few hours left but no-one felt like going for it. After that, London became a ghost town and unfortunately, the chance of a repeat performance of my weekend of debauchery with Indira was reduced to zero. I never heard another peep from her and wondered if she really would have contacted me had the pandemic not precluded her from travelling.

As a single guy, my nocturnal activities returned to solo flights and it wasn't until the middle of the year when some restrictions were lifted, I was able to hook up again with a few friends with benefits for some no-strings fun. I managed to 'bubble up' with a girl in my neighbourhood named Laura. We'd had a brief fling a year or two before and it worked for us both and it felt nice to be back in the saddle. She was no Indira, but then again few women were. She hadn't exactly spoiled it for the rest, but she was a very hard act to follow.

My little reverie over, I glanced at my watch. Still an hour and a quarter until Madeleine's speech. I opened a couple of spreadsheets and pretended to be interested in them, but probably wasn't fooling anyone.

Then I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. They were not banned in the office, but we had to be discrete and ringtones were certainly frowned upon. I slipped it from my pocket and groaned silently as I saw the number was withheld.

I walked out into the corridor and answered it with an air of reluctance. It would probably be a cold-caller, but even after all this time, if there was the remotest chance it was Indira Chandra, I wasn't prepared to risk missing her.

As always with an unknown number, I merely mumbled a disinterested 'hello.' The caller asked if she was speaking to Mr. James Mitchell and my heart almost stopped as I replied in the affirmative. One thing was certain - it wasn't Indira, but I knew that voice very well indeed and I was utterly stunned to hear it. She didn't have to say the next three words - I was already in no doubt as to who had called me.

"Madeleine Colton here."

I barely knew how to respond. In real life, I had only ever seen her from a distance or in conference rooms. I couldn't believe that she knew anyone as far down the food chain as me. I tried to calm my nerves, my mind racing faster than my heart, wondering what the hell she wanted.

All things considered, I managed to construct a fairly coherent sentence. "Oh, erm, hi Ms. Colton. A little unexpected if I may say so. How can I help you?"

Her warm Yorkshire accent was laced with barely concealed amusement. "Don't sound so alarmed, Mr. Mitchell. I would be grateful if you could pop up to the Top Floor at two o'clock please? Just something I'd like to discuss with you if you don't mind."

Now I was utterly flabbergasted. "Erm, yes, ok. How do I-"

She cut me off. "You can only get up here using the elevator on the right of the bank of three. Don't worry, I'll be watching. Just step inside and you'll be whisked up here in no time. See you at two, Mr. Mitchell."

The line went dead and I went back to my desk in a state of shock, wondering if the story of me and Indira had finally reached her and I was about to be thrown out on my ear.

I tried to recall how many times I had seen her. Maybe six or seven? And most of those were from the back of a room full of dozens or hundreds of people hanging on her every word. But I had also seen her on television and in newspapers countless times. On news bulletins, chat shows, reality programmes and morning tv. Her smile and soft accent made her compelling viewing and she could have recited her supermarket shopping list and still had people eating out of her hand.

She was in her early fifties but could have passed for late thirties. Her private life remained private but it was in the common domain that she had seen off two husbands along the way. Starting with the company aged eighteen, straight from school and with few qualifications, she took a business degree in her own time, got a first with honours and never looked back. Within five years she was running a section; within ten, a vice-president.

When the company foundered in the late nineties, she became CEO and dragged it, kicking and screaming into the new Millennium. Now it was regularly on the FTSE 100 list and she was one of the richest women in the United Kingdom. She was not in the same wealth bracket as Bezos, Branson or Zuckerberg, but no-one in the company would have traded her for any of those three.

The list of letters after her name was longer than most alphabets, but the most important and impressive three letters were the first on that list.

CBE

That meant that she was a Commander of the Most Excellent Order of the British Empire. There were few higher civil accolades, one being a Damehood, and if rumours were true it would not be long before we could call our CEO Dame Madeleine. Someone once worked out that she had more honorary degrees than our entire department of fifteen had real ones.

That was Madeleine Colton in a nutshell - and I just been summoned to her penthouse on the top floor.

Hell, it wasn't just the top floor. It was The Top Floor, in capital letters. That is always how it was referred to -- those three words always capitalised whether spoken or written.

And in five minutes, I would take the elevator on the right of the bank of three and be welcomed into her inner sanctum.

At least I hoped I would be welcomed.

At five minutes to two, I walked out onto the mezzanine floor that overlooked the vast atrium and the reception area. It was a stunning sight, with waterfalls and living walls, sculptures and huge murals. I had missed it so much when working from home and it never failed to inspire me and make me proud to work for the company.

Except that day, I barely gave it a second look as I headed for the elevators at the end of the curved walkway. A few colleagues milled around waiting and I didn't want any awkward questions, so I leaned on the rail for a moment, looking down at the ground floor, still much quieter than before the pandemic, but getting back to normal.

When all was clear, I summoned the car on the right and stepped inside with a confidence I didn't feel. There were no words of welcome, just a lurch in my stomach as the plexiglass car took off and I gazed at the rapidly retreating atrium as I was whisked into the stratosphere.

I took a trembling breath as the door opened and found myself in a small, round vestibule with porthole windows on each side and an open door in front of me.

And leaning on the door frame was the tall, elegant figure of Madeleine Colton, an enigmatic smile on her lips. I just had time to take in that she was wearing a dressing gown when she spoke.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Mitchell. Thank you for your prompt arrival. I do trust I have not dragged you away from any important work?"

Her soft, lilting voice immediately put me at ease. "No, not at all Ms. Colton. Just counting down the minutes until your speech."

She narrowed her eyes and gave me a mock frown. "Should you really be admitting that to your CEO, Mr. Mitchell?"

Realising she was toying with me, I decided to play along. "Ah, sorry -- you are correct. I've just analysed some important data our CEO required for her address this afternoon. I have it with me."

Her laugh was genuine. "Nice try, Mr. Mitchell. Nice try. Oh well, at least you have a cover story for being up here! And don't look so worried. I am not about to fire you. I leave all that vulgar stuff to the lower floors. Now come inside, young man and find out why you are really here."

Cover story? Why I was really there? I followed her through the door with my head spinning. I was only five paces into the room when I stopped dead in my tracks. It was like nowhere I had ever been before. Semi-circular, with the straight wall to my right lined with racks of trophies and photos of Madeleine with the great and good of politics, industry and media. In pride of place in the centre was a huge picture of her receiving her CBE from Her Majesty the Queen at Buckingham Palace.

The curved wall afforded breath-taking views of South London away over Madeleine's shoulder, and to my left, the Thames as it snaked its way to the sea, winding around the southern edge of the Isle of Dogs before it passed the City Airport and Greenwich. To the south, the Crystal Palace transmitter was visible, a few hundred yards from my flat, and in the far distance, the Dartford Crossing was just discernible through the haze.

As I gazed in wonder, Madeleine cleared her throat. "Erm, Mr. Mitchell -- impressive as it is, I didn't invite you up here to gawp at the view."

I turned back to her and she leaned against the rear of a huge, carved wooden desk that housed flat screens and computer gear. I thought back to the tiny spare room I had worked in for over a year. I wouldn't have been able to fit that desk in my living room, never mind the spare room.

As I attempted to apologise, she cut me off and went on. "Right, now I have your attention, time is of the essence and it is time to find out why I summoned you. It may seem a little strange to you, Mr. Mitchell, but despite my advanced years and my experience in these matters, I still get a little... stressed when I am about to give one of my speeches. Today is no different and in fact, given the length of time since I last spoke to a live audience, I am feeling more than a little apprehensive. That brings me neatly to why you are here."

Now I was completely non-plussed. I tried to interject. "I... I don't understand, Ms. Colton."

"Cast your mind back to the last meeting we had before lockdown, Mr. Mitchell. The one now referred to as 'The Park Lane Bash,' I believe?" She didn't wait for any confirmation from me. "Now a little bird tells me that at the end of said meeting, you entered into what can only be described as a 'meaningful relationship' with a senior member of staff from one of our overseas offices. Is that correct?"

Oh shit. This was it. I was finally about to be reprimanded or worse for my weekend with Indira. I just hoped she wasn't in trouble too.

I thought honesty was the only option. "Yes. Ms. Chandra from the Mumbai office. I apologise if I overstepped any lines, Ms. Colton."

She held up a hand. "I am not here to judge, Mr. Mitchell. It was, from what I gather, a rather steamy, prolonged and somewhat debauched tryst between two consenting adults. In fact, on her way to the airport in the taxi, Ms. Chandra eulogised to me about her two nights of bliss with a certain Mr. James Mitchell." Her hand slipped into her dressing gown pocket and she went on. "You know how we executive types like pithy summaries. We like things distilled into as few words as possible so we don't waste time on the minutiae and just get the bigger picture."

As her hand withdrew from the pocket, there was a glint of blue cellophane between her fingers. "So I pressed Ms. Chandra for an executive summary of you and I liked what I heard. The words she uttered to me are the reason you are here now. You are to be my stress relief ahead of my big keynote speech." A glance at her watch. "In less than an hour from now. Would you like to hear those words, Mr. Mitchell?"