The Boss

This is a continuation of the Martyn's storyline from my previous contribution called Charlie's Ex. You don't have to read the previous story, but there are references to it. I have tried to provide enough context that this story stands on its own.

I am sincerely trying to improve both my writing technique and character development. I would appreciate any comments or suggestions you might wish to share for this or any story I submit.

Thank you.

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I.

My boss is a bitch.

As a project manager Margot makes hard calls and tough decisions daily to keep things on-time and within budget. And she is good at it. If you're pulling your weight, she'll leave you alone. You're not going to get a lot of pats on the back, but we're all big boys out there and all we really want is a paycheck at the end of the week.

But if you should fuck something up, she will drop a ton of bricks on your head. I've seen her fire guys on the spot if they weren't meeting the schedule. Once, I saw her grab a piece of rebar and chase a big idiot off the job site. He thought it was a good idea to get up in her face to intimidate her.

But the worst part about her is that she is gorgeous. Not skinny model gorgeous, but like a pinup model from the 1940's. Like something you would see painted on the nose of a B-17 Flying Fortress.

She has raven black hair, dark olive skin, ample breasts, generous hips, a perfect ass, and long legs. It is hard to focus on work when she visits the job site.

She knows the effect that she has on the guys, but she never uses her feminine charms to make things happen. If anything, she dresses down at work. Somehow, she still exudes raw, erotic energy. Regardless, everyone that works for her long enough respects her skills in a role not often filled by a woman.

New guys, especially the cocky college kids working a summer job, will sometimes try to make some moves on her. It's always good for a laugh when one of the old-timers convinces a kid that she has a thing for young bucks. Watching them get shot down as they make their play is priceless.

It's obvious why she is so tempting to them. On those long, hot, summer days, I fantasize about her walking towards me, hips swaying as if she is on a fashion show runway. She glows with golden morning sunlight. She tosses her hard hat aside and shakes out her long, wavy, black hair in slow motion.

Of course she's wearing a thin, white cotton blouse, unbuttoned enough to reveal her substantial cleavage. I am mesmerized watching her tits bounce and jiggle evocatively with each step. It's so hot she will grab a convenient water hose and drench the front of her shirt to cool off. A fundamental law of sexual fantasies dictates that she forgot to wear a bra to work this day. Her large, dark nipples poke out as if to tear through her shirt.

I know it's a safety violation, but, in my daydream, she's wearing a tight denim skirt so short it barely covers her privates. For some reason she turns and bends to pick up a hammer. Setting her feet wide but keeping her long legs straight as she bends, she presents her ass in the most tantalizing way. A black thong rides deep into her butt crack, revealing the tinted darker skin around her asshole.

Maybe it's me, but the whole look is completed by the steel-toe Red Wing construction boots. If I could afford one, I would have to ask a therapist about the construction boots.

It's something to daydream about while I munch on my baloney sandwich and Flaming Hot Cheetos.

We're all so intimidated by Margot that we know next to nothing about her personal life. Is she married? Boyfriend? Girlfriend? We try to get a handle on her age. By consensus the guys in the crew think she's about 35. None of us is willing to bring it up with her. And then we put our lunch boxes back into our respective trucks and get back to work.

II.

I was having a hard time getting over my encounter with Cara, Charlie's ex-girlfriend. It felt so right to make love with her, but all she wanted was a sexual release and I was in the right place at the right time. Normally I'm ok with that, but I really hoped for more from her. However, she did not want to see me again. I reminded her of Charlie.

I bring that up to explain why I was drinking alone in a very upscale hotel bar. My local watering hole got shut down by the city for a rodent infestation, so I needed somewhere else to be. I heard this place had a good happy hour and a taco bar. I had not tried the taco bar yet, but the drinks were good and cheap, right up my alley.

The place was getting crowded, with an interesting assortment of young ladies, alone and in small groups. At my usual haunt, I go out in the same t-shirt and dirty jeans that I wore at work. At this place I thought it best if I cleaned up. I swore a dark grey Henley shirt with tight, blue, slim fit chinos. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and confirmed this outfit really accentuates my golden tan, muscular chest, and narrow waist.

The subtle glances and outright stares that I got from several of the women should have cheered me up, but I was not feeling it. I politely declined a few offers from some very attractive ladies with the excuse that I was waiting for someone. Soon enough the message got out and I was grateful to be left alone.

I was so engrossed in staring into my drink that I didn't notice the person who sat on the barstool next to me. It wasn't until I felt a delicate hand on my forearm that I realized that the woman was trying to get my attention. I turned, ready to make my usual excuse.

"Margot?" Shocked as I was, I could not help but notice the sexy red cocktail dress and matching high heels. Her hair, spilling elegantly over her shoulders, gave me the clue that she was meeting someone. The bountiful cleavage she displayed suggested that it was someone really special.

"Why are you here?" Her dark eyes flared. "Did you follow me?"

"I'm just blowing off some steam after work. Maybe get a taco."

She looked me over, as if to see if my posture would confirm the story. "I've never seen you here before."

"So, you come here a lot?"

"None of your business."

"I had no idea you were here," I said. "I'm trying to drown out the world. The last thing I want to see is you."

She seemed almost offended. "Bullshit," she snapped. "I know how the crew watch me. Especially you."

"Why especially me?"

"Because you know that you might have a chance to fuck me."

I drew back. I knew no such thing.

"Look at you," she said. "You're like a shy cowboy."

"I'm not that shy," I said. "I talk to my share of women."

"Talk? Is that all?"

"No, of course not. But I'm not on the hunt all the time. I want to talk with a woman who interests me. Maybe I like to develop a connection before I fuck them senseless."

She laughed, maybe a little too loud. "Pretty confident, Cowboy," she paused, "I'll talk to you while I'm waiting."

"Date?" I asked.

"Again, none of your business."

"I want to know how much effort I should put into this conversation."

"Dazzle me with your sparkling wit."

"Then don't be surprised if you ditch your date and end up in bed with me."

She laughed again, leaning into me, and pressing her breasts into my arm. I could smell the alcohol on her breath. I didn't know her tolerances, but I guessed that she was at least a couple drinks in based on her relaxed tongue. At work she was notorious for being spare with her words.

I had downed a couple of drinks, but at my size it was just enough to take the edge off.

"Maybe you're not a shy cowboy. Maybe you just don't fuck where you work."

"I'd be lying if I said I've never had thoughts about some of the guys in the crew."

"Any naughty thoughts about me?" she asked, trailing a finger down my bicep. I'd say she sounded a little coy if I didn't know better.

This time I laughed. "Believe it or not, I've never thought about fucking you. Mostly I imagine what you would look like in a wet shirt and a short skirt. Wearing your Red Wings."

"My work boots?"

I nodded my head sheepishly.

"You may want to talk to a therapist about that."

The next hour was spent in witty banter back and forth, in which I bared my soul but learned nothing personal about Margot. She even got me to spill the details about how I fucked my best friend's ex-girlfriend while he slept only a room away. And how Cara said "Thanks, but no thanks."

We both downed a couple more drinks in that time, vodka tonic for me and scotch on the rocks for her.

"So how was it?" she asked, leaning on me harder, revealing even more of her bewitching tits.

"What?"

"Fucking Cara."

"That's a little personal. I wasn't supposed to tell anyone, but you'll never meet Charlie, or Cara for that matter."

"She was your secret love, Martyn. Did the fantasy live up to the reality?"

"I never really fantasized about getting with her either. I guess I don't really think that way. I kind of put her up on a pedestal. Like she was too good for me."

"So, she was a big letdown?" she asked, sounding almost hopeful.

"Worse. She was amazing. The best sex I've ever had."

"I need the details Martyn. We're too deep into the story to hold back now."

I was just drunk enough that this logic made sense, so I gave her a complete play-by-play. She seemed especially intrigued by my kink about licking and tongue-fucking her asshole.

"Did she give your asshole a good lick and tongue-fuck?"

"No," I said, recoiling. "I would never ask her, or anyone, to put their tongue in my sweaty, hairy butthole. Why would any woman want to do that?"

"Ask nicely and maybe we'll see." Suddenly our playful discussion seemed to be going somewhere. I was already semi-hard just being next to her. Now I was really getting stiff, struggling to find room to grow in my tight pants.

"A lot of people think it's weird, but I know the charge I get out of licking a beautiful woman's ass, but what's in it for the woman to lick mine?" I honestly felt my chest tighten just thinking about it, remembering Cara's tight bottom.

Margot locked eyes with me and, without looking, placed her hand on my upper thigh, right where my boner was forced to snake down my leg.

"That hairy, sweaty asshole is a sexual magnet to an appreciative woman. The thought is intoxicating. I'm getting turned on just thinking about it."

"And the pubes aren't a turn-off?"

"If I told you that I was all natural downstairs, would that turn you off?"

I got a shiver of excitement thinking about her pussy and asshole framed by a thick, dark thatch. I blushed, imagining her glistening pubic hair, damp and matted by a mixture of saliva, sweat, and pussy secretions.

"That's what I thought." She laughed again, watching my face get redder and redder.

III.

It was clear we were going to have sex somewhere. I couldn't take her back to my place. It's tiny, messy, and not particularly romantic. In fact, it is the opposite of romantic.

I suggested Margot's place and she deliberately acted as if I had not said anything. If I wasn't going to get basic personal details from her, it was certain that I would not learn where she lived.

"Go get us a room," she said.

I was ashamed to admit it, but the rates for the cheapest rooms were almost the cost of my monthly rent. "You know how much I make. What makes you think I can afford a room at this hotel?"

"Right. Don't you have a credit card or something?"

I'm no bum, and I'm damn skilled at carpentry and finish work, so I never go without work. But that doesn't mean I have fancy hotel money, or a credit card for that matter. "No. Maybe you should pay me more."

"Not likely. You get the going rate like everyone else," she said. "Your bonus is getting to fuck me senseless. And that is a limited time offer.

"Do this," she continued. "I'll stay back here. You go to the guy at the front desk and tell him to give you the friends and family discount. Then point to me. He'll take care of us."

It worked. I don't know why it worked, but ten minutes later we were checking into a room on the 8th floor. I knew there was no point in trying to get her to explain what happened.

My boner was rock hard, and it ordered me to stop asking her stupid questions. Between her and my dick, I had two bosses in the room. I was way down in the chain of command.

Margot stepped into the restroom and left me to sit nervously on the bed. In a few minutes I heard the shower run and I wondered if I should take another one. Can't hurt, especially if this went where I was hoping it would go. I got another excited chill just thinking about it.

While I waited, there came a knock on the door. "Room service."

As I opened the door, I was ready to protest that we had not ordered anything. Before I could explain, a petite young woman rolled her cart into the room and announced. "Champagne, sir. Courtesy of the General Manager. Also, a plate of cheese, crackers, and fruit to keep your energy up."

I stood there dumbfounded. She was quick and efficient in arranging the platter of food and the champagne bucket on the desk. In moments she had popped the cork on the champagne and poured us two tall flutes of the sparkling drink.

I scrambled to pull out my wallet for a tip, but she held her hand up and waved me off. "No need sir. It has all been taken care of." With that, she rolled the cart out. As she turned to close the door, she gave me a knowing smile and a quick wink. "Enjoy your evening, sir."

More questions. Why bother asking Margot to answer any of them? I popped a couple of grapes in my mouth and slowly chewed, wondering what kind of trouble I was getting into.

In about ten minutes Margot came out of the restroom wrapped in a towel. She was breathtaking. Where Cara was athletic and muscular, Margot was all big tits, soft curves, and long legs. I realized, even without her high heels, she was only a few inches shorter than me. My boner stiffened to imagine what was waiting for me behind that towel.

"You're up, Cowboy." She gestured towards the restroom, not really giving me a choice.

I scrubbed myself top to bottom, not wanting to do anything to turn her off. I stepped out of the shower, wrapped in my own towel, to find her reclined seductively against a pile of pillows on the bed. The pose reminded me of an old fashioned, pulp detective magazine. It would not have surprised me to see her aiming a snub nose.22 caliber at my heart.

Long, loosely curled, black hair framed her oval face. Dark brown eyes peered out, as if defying me to resist her. Full lips, tinted a deep maroon, completed an exotic, Mediterranean appearance. I guessed Italian or Spanish heritage, but I knew I'd never get confirmation from her.

Her large, soft breasts overflowed a red push-up bra. The large dark nipples were hinted at behind the elaborate lacework. Her smooth belly had the slightest soft bulge on her abdomen. She was all erotic curves and inviting sexuality.

High-waisted, red, thong panties covered most of a wild jungle of thick, black bush. About an inch of her pubes peeked above the top of the lacy triangle of fabric in the front. The narrow thong fabric between her legs did little to conceal the extended unshaven trail of pubes.

Posed as she was, Margot was like the model of feminine perfection from a different era. It was an era that I wanted to see make a comeback.

She carefully observed me from top to bottom, as if I was livestock she might purchase for the right price. Smiling, she scanned across my hard, flat chest and down my taut belly. I had a hint of abs, nothing too showy because I rarely work out. Swinging a hammer all day was exercise enough.

My cock stiffened from the leering attention, tenting the towel I wore around my waist.

"Lose the towel, Cowboy," she said. I let it drop. It hung off my erection for a moment before falling to the floor.

I do a bit of manscaping around the edges, but the rest of my pubes are a tangled mess. My boner thrust out from the tousled reddish-brown hair like a rocket leaving the launchpad. Margot did a lascivious lick along her bottom lip, as if pondering an angle of attack.

I walked over to the desk and took the other glass of champagne. While I stood there, she got off the bed and walked up to press in close behind me. I felt the heat of her body and the soft pillows of her breasts push into my back.

One hand slid around to my abdomen and up across my pecs. She playfully ran her fingers through the hair on my chest. I stood motionless, enjoying the playful way she wound and unwound my chest hair around her fingers.

After a few moments, she raked her fingernails down my abdomen. I stopped her inches from my pulsing erection.

"What's wrong, Cowboy?"

"I'm not usually the one to say this, but I'm not in a hurry."

"How chivalrous of you. Is that some sort of cowboy code? How to treat a proper lady?"

"Maybe. Or maybe you're a big mystery. I want to figure out what's going on here."

She took a couple of steps back and flashed an amused smirk at me as I turned around. "You can try, but I doubt you're a good enough detective to figure me out."

"You're probably right." So, I pulled her towards me and gazed deep into those dark eyes. Her arms wrapped around my back in a strong, controlling embrace. We both leaned in for a long, passionate kiss. The kiss lingered while my hands slowly began to explore her curves. She smelled faintly of the tea tree scented body wash in the shower. Her skin was soft and smooth.

She broke away from the kiss to catch her breath. Her breasts, mashed against my chest, were all natural. She leaned in and we continued kissing. Our hands began to roam more freely. Everything outside of this moment faded away and I was focused solely on tasting her lips, feeling her skin, and breathing in her delicate scent.

I brought my hand up to her neck, guiding her chin up so that I could kiss her throat and take an ear lobe between my lips. My other hand worked the clasp of her bra and released it. She pulled back enough to shrug the straps off her shoulders and let it drop to the floor. Her breasts, free of the restraining bra, hung loose and flattened slightly into a pillowy tear drop shape. Large dark nipples captured my attention. I leaned down to flick my tongue across a nipple, but she pulled me back in to continue teasing and nipping at her neck.

She brought a hand up and wrapped her long fingers around my swollen member. With a firm grip at the base, she slowly stroked me. Her other hand entwined itself in the curls of my hair and she pushed and pulled my head about, sending me to the places that she wanted to get attention.

I was so lost in her touch and taste that I could have stayed standing there for an eternity. Margot, however, had more direct plans. She broke our embrace and took my hand, guiding me to the bed. She threw the comforter back with a flourish and turned to me. She gave me another leering smile and then pushed me backwards onto the bed. Moving like a cat, she climbed onto the bed next to me. Immediately we were intertwined in another long, probing kiss.

We nuzzled and tickled each other in a playful exploration game. I'm embarrassingly ticklish and always have been. She found this to be a delightful way to torture me. I enjoyed watching a silly side of her personality come out, so I didn't put up much of a fight when she rolled me onto my back. Straddling my thighs to keep me from escaping, she tickled and teased me like a mischievous demon, probing my abdomen, behind my knees and pretty much everywhere to see what made me react.

My pleas for her to stop were largely ignored until I finally bucked her off and rolled on top of her. She tried to wrestle free until I pinned her arms to her sides and put my lips to a nipple. Holding firmly to her wrist, I licked and sucked, feeling it firm up between my lips.