The Dirty Sheets

At last, there it was, right in front of him, Wayland Industries. As he pulled into his assigned parking spot, he noticed a brand-new sign with his name on it, sharp and clear. He couldn't help but wonder, in his agitated state, if it would still be there tomorrow.

At last, at his desk, he plopped down in his chair and gripped the arms tightly, waiting. He was fighting with a vision where he was being awkwardly introduced to Wilma over and over when he was aware of someone standing in front of him.

"Great, you're here. Jump up and come with me to meet Lisa. She's here and anxious to meet you." A big smile from Jimmy, his boss. "Listen, let me give you a little info about her before we go. She's a good looker, a really good looker, but don't let that fool you. And she looks younger than you'd expect for a VP. That's because she is young. But she has a bachelor's of IE from Stanford and an MBA from Harvard. She is one ... sharp ... cookie. Fair, but she knows what the hell she's doing. Plus, and you may have to get used to it a little, she doesn't mind at all telling it just like it is. Did you meet Angelo yet?:

"Yeah, last Tuesday, I think. I like him."

"Well, he calls her the Beautiful Bitch, so when he refers to BB, you'll know what he means." He raised his eyebrows and smiled. "If you're ready, let's go."

"Doesn't bitch sort of contradict beautiful?"

"You'll have to decide that for yourself."

Jimmy led him through the office, and Eric couldn't help but think about what he'd just heard. She did look young; maybe in her 20s or maybe in her 30s, it was hard to tell. The "good looker" part he was already very aware of, as much as that bothered him. And the "telling it like it is" part as well. Had she been doing that on the island? He hoped so, desperately. Despite fighting it, a picture of her standing there completely naked flashed through his head. That surely didn't help determine her age. And it didn't help with the image of her as the BB either. She was beautiful naked and, he realized, he had never seen her in street clothes, only in the bikini and ... without the bikini. Not the way he or anyone else typically meets their boss's boss, for sure.

Far too quickly, they were at her office, and he noted the secretary's desk was vacant. Jimmy just ignored that and knocked on the doorframe of the big office.

"Got a minute, Lisa?"

"Come in, come in," said a familiar voice, and he could hear a chair rolling on one of those plastic carpet protectors.

And there she was, black skirt to just above her knees, bright red blouse mostly covered by the very proper black business jacket, her beautiful face beaming at him, her dark hair down around her shoulders—no ponytail here. That face, just as pretty as the face he had pictured those thousand times in his mind, and she was heading right for him, her smile not hard to read, at least for him. The way his heart was pounding, Eric was afraid he might be having a stroke, or maybe a heart attack. He knew either could be fatal. Her hand came toward him, and he automatically responded.

"You have to be Eric," she exclaimed, vigorously pumping his hand, the same hand that had held his cock, that had dipped into her pussy and brought her juices to his mouth. He nearly groaned aloud.

"So good to meet you . . . ," he managed to get out, fumbling a little but sounding reasonably normal, but he paused at her name.

"I'm just plain old, Lisa, so call me that," she rescued him, her smile broadening, even more so than he thought was necessary. She certainly was not "plain old Wilma or Lisa or whatever." But was she toying with him again with that smile? She still had hold of his hand, a little too long perhaps, but then she let go. "Looking forward to working with you too," she added. "I have to apologize, but I'm pretty well tied up this morning, so I can't get to know you a little better, as Jimmy knows I like to do." She nodded at Jimmy. "But I'll catch you later." A subtle wink. "I do like to know who I'm working with." A quick lick to her upper lip. A little jolt, but Eric was feeling so much better already, and he began to appreciate what Jimmy had said about her being very sharp.

She was helping him to relax and feel more comfortable with the warmth of her smile and by treating him as she would treat ... any new employee ... almost.

She stuck out her hand again. "See you at ten o'clock," she said, still smiling, and as he took her hand to shake it, there were only two fingers there -- those special two for sure. He shook them, and rather than just letting go, he let them slide through his hand. Just a very small change in her eyes, but it made him feel so much better. He was amazed at the simple way she did that. He wasn't sure the Harvard Business School taught things like that—probably not. Whatever it was, he hoped that, somehow, it could continue.

"See you then." He and Jimmy retreated from the office.

The ten o'clock meeting was uneventful except for what resulted from the fact that they sat at a round table. Eric took his seat and the rest filed in until there was only one seat left ... for Lisa, which was right beside Eric, of course. She came through the door, moving fast and apologizing for being late. He glanced at the clock on the wall. It was about 30 seconds past ten o'clock. He made a note that she obviously valued punctuality and, his mind jumped quickly to next Saturday when he was to meet her on WH2 at ten o'clock where, and he couldn't stop himself, she'd be naked. Looking around, he saw the changes in posture and even facial expressions when she'd entered the room, everyone almost snapping to attention, as if a general had just entered. As she moved across the room, all eyes followed her; there were nervous coughs, and a quick arranging of papers and pens were at the ready. He wondered if he'd be seeing the BB in action?

She was just sitting down next to him, and he couldn't look because he was sure her clothing wouldn't be there. Add to that the fact that the breeze from her sitting down had enveloped him in the gentle aroma of that cologne he had first really noticed when his face was buried against her neck, and he was sucking there. Silly as it seemed, that had been the left side of her neck, and now he was sitting to her right. It helped a little that what he was looking at was not where he'd been. He knew he was going to have trouble concentrating on the meeting content. He decided that he was really pathetic and vowed to improve, not sure just how that was going to happen.

"Have all of you met Eric?" she began, gesturing his direction.

A murmuring of yeses and smiles aimed at him.

"Good. Then let's get started."

Thank goodness he was just a listener today, and she did most of the talking so he could just sit and watch her, study her, devour her from reasonably close range. He couldn't believe that she had actually gotten better-looking in just two days. He hoped the others at the meeting didn't notice how he was looking at her. Most were very busy writing and snapping "Yes, ma'am's" at her requests, suggestions, and outright orders. By the time the hour was up, he could have painted her portrait, knowing intimately each strand of hair, each pore in her face, each twinkle he saw in her eyes, even the very slight misalignment of one of her teeth. As the meeting ended and his first taste of the BB part of her was over, they spoke politely and separated.

This was only Monday, but Saturday couldn't be too far away.

Eric was enjoying the new job. He was learning a good bit and staying late in the evenings trying to get a little ahead of things, and it was working. On Thursday, he had gotten a message that Lisa had five minutes available, and she wanted to meet with him for their "get acquainted" time that she had with all of the new employees that fell under her domain. Surprisingly, he had not been nervous and even survived the smell of her cologne which was a very faint aroma but still nearly overwhelming to him. They chatted briefly, and he gave her his best big smile, which she returned. No signs of the BB appeared. And no mention about Saturday, at least verbally, but she did look at the large calendar she used as a desk mat and tapped her finger on this Saturday's square and smiled again. It was all he needed, though, despite his myriad doubts, and when she put her hand forward to shake as he was ready to leave, he brazenly ignored it and put two fingers in his mouth and drew them out slowly, then shook her hand. A slight nod of the head from her along with an extended licking of her lips that had his heart beginning to pound, and he was quickly back to his desk and working away again.

He wondered what might lie ahead but couldn't clear his mind of how beautiful she was and the question of why she seemed interested in him. In that frazzled brain of his, it just didn't make sense. Still, it was happening.

Eric, of course, had been doing a lot of thinking during the week, almost all after he had gotten home from work. It was very dangerous thinking, and he wondered if he had inherited his penchant for overthinking things from his birth mother. He decided she had not done much good thinking when she had gotten so drunk at the fraternity party, then chastised himself as he realized that he didn't know her at all and had no right to judge her about lots of things. But this thing with Wilma, or Lisa. He had a predilection for always trying to look ahead and have a clear map in his head of where things were going. He was having a lot of trouble doing that now. And that was making his thoughts go in circles, coming around to crash into each other over and over until he would pace and pace some more and have trouble sleeping as well. It was never-ending as the week progressed and that Saturday that had seemed so close on Monday seemed to be getting no closer. So many questions that needed answers.

She was his boss, actually his boss's boss, and where did that leave him? He wanted to call her up, ask her out on a date, take her to a restaurant where 90% of the males would be envious of him. He wanted those everyday things, and somehow, he couldn't picture them happening. He hadn't read all of the Wayland Industries handbook yet, but he had searched out the section on Intercompany Romantic Relationships and found that they weren't prohibited, as long as they weren't disruptive to company business and a few other intricacies as well.

Then there were those mornings when he looked in the mirror and thought that, after the males at the restaurant were envious, they would laugh and quickly say, "What the hell is she doing with that guy?" And that thought was repeated in his brain, over and over. It seemed that every time he remembered what had happened and the feelings that she created, both physically and mentally, and then thought of that beautiful face, he always ended with that thought. "What the hell is she doing with that guy?" His mind wasn't letting him enjoy reality. He was trying to deal with the trash heap his brain had become and wasn't having a lot of success.

Saturday finally arrived, and he was up early, showered, and getting dressed if pulling on some swimming trunks and an old Ohio State t-shirt could be called getting dressed. At last, he decided to leave, and the hour-long drive to the island was nauseatingly tedious, with his mind attacking him mercilessly.

She wouldn't be there at all.

She'd be there but only to tell him this was foolish and she wouldn't be coming back again.

She'd be there and torment him fiendishly, then leave him a beaten and frustrated hulk.

Thank goodness he finally pulled into the parking lot before he decided to race his car into a light pole to end the anguish.

He stuffed his wallet into one pocket of his trunks and the electronic key thingy into the other, throwing his towel over his shoulder. At the gate, he swiped his card and went inside only to have a gorgeous, topless redhead who was not watching what she was doing plow head-on into him, her enormous boobs nearly knocking him off his feet. She apologized with a face nearly as red as her hair as he took one last long look before moving on. Maybe this was an omen that today would be okay after all. Being knocked nearly senseless was one thing but having it done by enormous hooters made it seem okay. Feeble, but it was the best he could do.

Remembering that first meeting at the round table with the BB, he was 15 minutes early, so he stopped by the concession stand and optimistically bought the usual two bottles of water, along with the Reese's Peanut Butter Cup two-pack that he knew would be soft and soggy before long, messy but still very tasty, then headed to the WI2 gate. There he slipped his trunks and t-shirt off and went in, moving carefully to the spot where they had settled in last week. Fortunately, it was vacant. He spread his towel, sat down, and waited with bated breath, not knowing at all what to expect after all his mind's ravings. He opened one bottle of water, and as he raised it to his mouth and was drinking, there she was. At work, she was, as Jimmy had said, "a looker." Here, walking toward him naked, she was breathtaking.

"Oh god, I'm so thirsty," she said, taking the bottle right from his mouth and putting it to hers.

As he watched her drink, his whole body relaxed. She certainly had a knack for making him feel better.

After a long swallow, she exclaimed, "Good!" She was looking at him, from head to toe. "Almost as good as you look right now," she added.

He could feel the erection beginning, and she could see it.

"Bad boy," she quipped as she sat down beside him on his towel, her body rubbing against his. "I wouldn't have you any other way."

He turned his body sideways so what was happening wouldn't be so obvious to anyone passing by.

She kissed him on the cheek. "You notice I didn't spread my towel or anything else yet?"

Anything else? What else might she be spreading? Now he was having thoughts that he hadn't had all week, and he could feel the low burn beginning in his body. She certainly was not the BB here.

"Let's just head on to WI3. More private," she added with a grin, quickly reaching over and lightly tapping his erection.

"Good plan," he answered, groaning.

Why had he been worrying for all those days?

He jumped up and reached for her arm, missing it, and, of course, bumped her right nipple. She looked at him and then down at herself. "They don't match now," she murmured.

"Why do they have to match? This way, you're unique."

"And weird-looking," she added, twisting, so her other breast was toward him.

So, he bumped that one to her broad smile. "You know how to take care of me, don't you?"

"Well, we certainly don't need weirdness today." He laughed.

He picked up his towel, draping it carefully over his arm, so it mostly hid his privates, and tossed his bathing trunks and shirt over his shoulder. She carefully wound her fingers through his, and they headed for WI3.

Cards were swiped, and they were inside, and it was obvious that she was intent on being on the ocean side this time for some reason. She picked the enclosure, set her bag by the outside wall, and went inside with her towel, pulling him along with her.

"Someone might see us," he suggested, gesturing to the wide-open space in front of them leading down to the ocean.

"That's why we're on Whitworth Island, to see and be seen," she answered, punching him in the ribs. "Plus, I like the ocean, the color, and the sounds. It just seems appropriate for what sometimes happens on Whitworth." It was her turn to send a big smile in his direction.

Very quickly, it looked like they were going to be seen as a couple was coming out of the ocean and seemed to be heading right for them. And that's exactly where they were headed.

"We're just a couple of shelters down," the slightly older man said, gesturing to his right. "Care to join us?"

Eric felt her arm go around his waist, her fingers pressing into him. "Thanks," she said, smiling at the man, "but I think we'll just hang out here and have our own fun." It seemed that everything she said just turned his furnace up one more notch.

Now it was the woman's turn. "By all means," she said, smiling broadly, looking from Eric to Wilma. "Fun. That's why we're here, isn't it?" She winked at Wilma.

Wilma smiled in return as the couple went off their way. Eric felt a pat on his butt. They spread towels and lay down, both on their backs, watching the puffy clouds drifting lazily in the gentle morning breeze.

"Do you look for animals and things in the clouds?"

"I guess I don't spend much time looking at the clouds," he answered.

"It's kind of fun, on a day like this. Just let your imagination loose. No worries. Nothing clogging up your life for a few minutes."

He was sure that, as a VP and also the BB, she had lots of things that "clogged up her life." He hoped he didn't become one of them.

"Don't know that I've had many days like this," he replied, looking from the clouds to her.

She caught his eye and smiled. "Me either," she said.

He couldn't believe how that simple "me either" made him feel so much better; He had nothing in his life to compare it to. Nothing. He had never been with anyone like Wilma. Stanford and Harvard, and she was lying beside him, naked. He'd pinched himself many times, searching for reality. What she'd just said made it a reality, even if he still couldn't keep himself from wondering.

"Not quite as hot today," she said, changing the conversation slightly.

"We'll have to see about that," he replied, grinning.

He watched her face, saw her eyes smile at him as she rolled on her side toward him, and began playing with the short and very light-colored hair on his chest, then to that fascinating scar and little bump under the end of it. It was just so very relaxing to be here, to be together, so very comfortable with each other.

Wilma took a deep breath, a more serious look on her face.

Eric saw it and wondered -- it was his nature to wonder.

"I know that look," she suggested, "and you need to get rid of it."

He smiled and nodded. She said it, and it sounded easy. But he was who he was, and it wasn't that easy.

"Have you read all of the Wayland Industries handbook?" A little laugh and a shaking of his head. "What we are doing is not technically against the handbook at all, as long as it doesn't interfere with or disrupt the functioning of the company."

Now his eyes were wide, and he was very interested. If she was checking it too, that was very important.

"So?" he questioned.

"So," she replied. "Are you going to ask me for a date?"

He looked thoughtful for a second, snapping his thumbnail over his teeth.

"How about dinner tonight and sex this morning?"

"How about sex this morning and sex again after dinner tonight?"

They quickly took care of the first part of the date, oblivious to the fact that someone might be watching from the ocean. No one was, but it didn't matter.

They went their separate ways mid-afternoon, and Eric's mind was whirring. What Wilma had told him about the company policy had reassured him in that area, but not the one that kept popping up, like a cork when a tiny fish was tugging on the line. If only it were a tiny fish and not his brain that was doing it, he'd feel much better.

He'd gotten her address in a part of town he didn't usually frequent. Not surprising, as an unmarried VP was probably not hurting for money. That was something else that was a little awkward. Her degrees outstripped his. Her position outstripped his. And the way she looked, her exceptionally pretty face outstripped his by, well, by a long, long way. It just ate at him -- it was all so unusual. He tried not to let his thoughts interfere with reality, but it was difficult, the thoughts sometimes becoming more real than he'd like.