The Yellow Pages Girl Pt. 02

The second part of YPG. With grateful thanks to Foxtrot52 for her input and beta reading. Looking forward to your feedback and comments!

If you haven't done so already, please read Part 1... this will all make more sense if you do. Enjoy! :)

31st March 1995

It was the weekend of the annual Sales Conference. All the sales staff, from telesales to field sales, plus all the middle and senior management, would be in attendance at the massive venue in Birmingham.

The event was intended to be enjoyable -- a chance for everyone to let their hair down, with a little semi-serious business thrown in. Starting on the Friday evening, there would be a meal, followed by awards for the year's top performers. Then live music and dancing until the small hours, with plenty of free drinks to help ensure a lively evening. The next day would comprise a couple of keynote presentations and a couple of breakout workshops, but the organisers recognised that most of the delegates would either be severely hungover, or half asleep, or both.

I arrived at the hotel around 4pm, as I'd received a request to meet my new boss for a chat. Having checked in, I deposited my luggage in the assigned twin room, noticing that there was already a pile of assorted bags and cases in one corner. The company didn't extend to the luxury of single rooms for lower-tier employees at events like this. I then headed down to the public lounge area. Spotting a young woman sitting on her own, a Compaq laptop computer opened on the table in front of her, I strolled up and tentatively asked, "Excuse me, are you Gemma, by any chance?"

The young woman looked up and said, "Yes, that's me. Charlotte?" She half stood to offer her hand, which I shook.

"Please, have a seat. Would you like a coffee?"

"Yes, thanks, I'm gasping. It's been a long drive, with the Friday traffic."

Gemma caught the eye of a waiter and requested coffee for two. We chatted about the state of the roads, the endless roadworks and various other things, until the coffee arrived. Then Gemma closed her computer and looked up at me.

"How's it all going then? Work-wise?"

"Not too bad. A lot of businesses still feeling the pinch, so they tend to be reluctant to spend as much as they used to, to be honest."

"Hmm, OK. Let me tell you where I'm at. Basically, I've been given a temporary promotion to area manager. There's been a bit of shuffling round to cover some maternity leave, so I've got about 9 to 12 months to prove myself, and hopefully get the promotion confirmed. You're on my team, so I'm keen to see you succeed.

"At the moment, you're a bit below target, like a couple of others. I want to try and help fix that. You'll earn more money, with commission and bonuses, and so will I. So you could end up a lot better off if we can close more deals.

"So, what I want to do, is come out with you on the road for a week or so. We'll re-visit some prospects, see a few new ones, do some deals and hopefully bump up the revenue. Does that sound good?"

My initial reaction was one of slight dread. I'd never really liked being closely observed and monitored but couldn't help feeling that a bit of help wouldn't go amiss either. Besides, this Gemma seemed very pleasant. She hadn't got the arrogant air about her that most of the established, mainly male, managers had.

I studied the young woman in front of me and guessed she was about my age, maybe a year or so older. Quite a pretty face, with nice, deep brown eyes, framed by dark brown, almost black hair, cut in a bob. She looked like she had a fuller figure than me, with quite an impressive bust straining the buttons of her blouse, a gap revealing a hint of black bra underneath.

I quickly decided, particularly as this seemed to be a done deal, it would be best to be, or at least appear, positive. "You know what... that would really make a nice change... to have a bit of company, someone to talk to, and bounce things off. All the driving and nights in hotels on your own does get a bit dull."

Which was quite true. Apart from my rather lovely interlude with John and a couple of other very forgettable one-night stands, my social and sexual diary was pretty vacant.

"Fantastic," replied Gemma, a smile breaking out across her face. "Hopefully, it won't be all work. We can maybe go out on the town a bit, have a laugh too. Sometimes, when you mix in a bit of fun, work becomes all the better."

The prospect of a few girlie nights out cheered me up. "That would be lovely, honestly. It's impossible for a girl on her own to go out anywhere, it just wouldn't be safe. Are you single too, Gemma?"

"Yeah, footloose and fancy-free, that's me... hey, that rhymes! I should be a poet!"

"And you know it," I added. We both laughed as we finished our coffees.

"Anyway," Gemma stated, "we'll wrap it up now. I want to go and have a lovely soak in the bath and get all spruced up for tonight. Might even get lucky later on!" she added with a grin and a wink.

"We'll get together on Sunday and work out an itinerary for the week, line up a whole lot of prospects, then hit the road Monday morning. What room are you in, Charlotte?"

I'm hopeless at remembering room numbers, so I delved in my handbag and fished out the key card in its little folder. "618," I read. Gemma laughed and said, "Oh, brilliant, they've put us in the same room!"

With that, we headed for the lifts and made our way to the room. Having agreed which bed was whose, we unpacked what we needed and started to sort out clothes for the evening. The event wasn't formal, but it was an opportunity for the women to glam up in party dresses and look their best.

"I'm going to pull rank and claim the bath first," declared Gemma. "How about you nip down to the bar and get us a couple of drinks? I want to get in the mood for tonight! I'll have a large white wine. You get whatever you want; put them on the room tab."

"Sounds like a plan," I said, quietly thinking that I was going to enjoy having a boss like Gemma.

By the time I returned with the drinks, Gemma was clearly in the bath, judging from the splashing sounds the other side of the door. "Room service!" I called out through the door.

"Can I have it in here, please?" Gemma shouted back. Door's not locked!"

I gingerly opened the door, clutching the glass of white wine, which immediately sheened with condensation from the steamy room. Gemma was wallowing in a foot-deep bath, a thick blanket of suds completely covering her, except for her head, shoulders and the tops of her substantial breasts.

"Complimentary bubble bath!" she exclaimed, with a beaming grin. As I handed her the wine, Gemma reached up and turned slightly; as she did so, her boobs surfaced from under the water, partially covered with suds, her skin shiny with wetness. I couldn't help but notice that hers were at least twice the size of mine and felt a rush of emotions... some surprise at Gemma's bravado, mixed with a brief moment of envy at the size of her breasts; some slight discomfort at the fact that Gemma seemed quite relaxed to be seen naked in front of me, when we'd only met minutes before. Feeling slightly disturbed, I left Gemma to her bathing in peace.

It was a while later, when Gemma finally emerged from the bathroom, with a large bath sheet wrapped round her body and another, smaller one wrapped round her head like a turban. "Your turn," she said. "I've started running a fresh bath for you. I even left you some of the bubble bath."

At this point, she loosened the towel from round her body, so she could complete drying herself off. Glancing round at me, she said, "Look, I hope you don't mind, but if we're going to be sharing rooms for a while, you might as well understand that I'm not bothered about being naked in front of you. It will save awkwardness if we just get that out of the way, eh?

"Besides, we've both got the same bits, after all," she added, having completely removed the towel, which she was using to pat herself dry with.

I couldn't help but stare at Gemma's breasts. No longer camouflaged by the bath suds, and now fully out in the open, they could only be described as impressive, verging on spectacular. I've always liked my own boobs, their size and shape... but Gemma's were in a different league. The size of honeydew melons, they swayed from side to side as she towelled the various parts of her body. I also couldn't help but notice, how her nipples crinkled to hardness, in response to the cooler air in the bedroom.

I've never been attracted to other women sexually but had to admit that Gemma's breasts were quite fascinating. I found myself wondering if they would feel the same as mine, or whether they'd be softer. I quickly pushed that line of thought out of my mind.

As far as I could remember, I'd only ever been seen naked in front of other females in the showers at school, so I wasn't entirely comfortable with the prospect of prancing around with no clothes on in front of my new boss. I'm just not wired up that way. I mumbled, "Sure, OK," mentally admitting that Gemma did have a point, but shyly, still only stripped to my bra and panties, before disappearing into the bathroom.

By the time I'd bathed and washed my hair, when I came out into the room, Gemma was already dressed in her finery, ready for the evening. Forgoing the usual 'little black number', she had elected to wear a short, sequinned dress in a sea green. But the most eye-catching feature of the dress, was the plunging neckline. Gemma had obviously chosen a push-up or underwired bra, because her ample breasts were almost fully on display, with an enviable cleavage, looking for all the world, like a medieval serving wench.

"Good grief, Gemma! I know you said we've got the same bits as each other, but... just not the same amount, by the look of things!"

"Well, I don't know about you, but I'm planning on getting some horizontal action later on tonight, so I thought I might as well put the goods on show," she said, with a giggle.

"I think that sends out a pretty clear 'fuck me' message, to be honest with you. But if you've got it, flaunt it, as the saying goes..."

"Well, my puss is in urgent need of some attention. I've not been with anyone for two or three weeks, so tonight is party night!"

I dressed in a slightly more restrained, but still sexy, long black dress, which showed a teasing glimpse of my more modest cleavage. But the notable feature of this dress, was the slash which extended halfway up my thigh. So, when I walked in my high heels, onlookers would be treated to a repeated 'now you see it, now you don't' sexy glimpse of stockinged leg.

When we were both satisfied with our makeup and hair, we headed down to the thronging reception area, where waiting staff were circulating, serving glasses of Buck's Fizz to the increasingly noisy groups of delegates.

Unsurprisingly, Gemma was attracting quite some attention from the men in the room, some of whom were staring quite openly - almost open-mouthed, at her 'goods' so openly on display. As we were sipping our drinks, Gemma turned to me and taking my elbow, leaned in a little closer, so as to be heard over the general hubbub.

"By the way, before we get too drunk, can we get things sorted for tonight?"

"How do you mean?" I asked, a little puzzled.

"I mean room-wise. Shall we just say, if you get off with anyone, you'll take them back to our room. If I pull someone, I'll go back to his room. It could get complicated otherwise! Is that a deal?"

At this event, like so many similar ones, there was a general understanding that unwritten 'conference rules apply'. Meaning that whatever happened that night, didn't ever get discussed afterwards. No gossip, no recriminations, no taletelling.

I nodded my agreement. Casting my eye around the room, there certainly appeared to be an abundance of eligible men, but equally, some competition from other, quite provocatively dressed women. I chuckled inwardly, wondering how many of these people would wake up in their own rooms in the morning...

With a fine meal polished off and the various awards announced, the band started to play, resulting in a mass exodus from tables to the dance floor. All evening, copious amounts of wine had been delivered to the tables, and the free bar was doing a roaring trade. So, by the time the music started, almost everyone in the room was inebriated to one extent or another. Inhibitions were cast to the wind and before long, various couples were alternately cavorting to the faster numbers and groping each other during the slower ones.

Gemma was certainly in demand. No sooner had she sat down after dancing, to catch her breath and gulp a drink, than she was asked to dance by yet another testosterone and alcohol-fuelled male.

I had hooked up with Ben, a good-looking guy from telesales. He was tall and slim and had a mane of bushy, dark hair. What really surprised me though, was that he was an excellent, accomplished dancer. He had an amazing sense of rhythm, putting in some impressive routines to rock and disco numbers; but when a slower ballad was played, he literally whisked me round the floor in his arms.

I'm not a great dancer, but he led me like a proper gentleman, his hand holding mine, his other on the small of my back, sending subtle signals. It felt effortless to follow his lead and it felt good when he pulled me close to him, the scent of his masculine aftershave filling my nostrils.

After some time, we went back to a table to rest a moment and get a drink.

"Would you like to get some air, Charlotte?" he asked, looking deep into my eyes.

"Yeah, that would be nice... it's very warm and noisy in here!"

Picking up our drinks, we strolled outside to the patio area, the air pleasantly cooler. The cacophony of music was suddenly attenuated as the door closed behind us. We found a bench and sat down.

"Wow, that's been quite an evening," Ben remarked. "Have you enjoyed yourself?"

"Yes, it's been good, but... I hope it's not over yet," I said quietly, looking up at him. I meant it. He seemed a really nice guy and my moistening slit was telling me that I wanted to get to know him a whole lot better.

Ben took the hint and kissed me, tenderly at first, then more forcefully and a moment later, his hand cupped one of my boobs in his hand, gently massaging it as our tongues intertwined. My nipples are very sensitive, and his touch was sending electric shocks down between my legs.

When we surfaced for air, slightly breathlessly I asked, "I just have to ask you, when did you learn to dance like that? You were amazing!"

Ben laughed. "I'm actually a competition ballroom dancer. That kind of dancing isn't really my thing, but ballroom gives you the fundamentals. We're competing in Blackpool in a couple of months."

His kisses had really turned me on. I could feel my wetness gathering, certain it must be seeping into the gusset of my flimsy panties. I decided to lay out my cards for him. I'd hooked him, and certainly wasn't planning on spending the night on my own.

Placing my hand on his thigh, but trying to appear a little coy, I softly murmured in his ear, "Well Ben, if your horizontal moves are as good as your dance ones, you'd better come to Room 618 when this finishes!" With that, I leaned in for another passionate kiss. This time, Ben's hand was deliciously exploring my thigh through the slit in my dress.

Had we not been in such a public place, I'd have been tempted to unzip him and sit on his lap, then slide his shaft into my hungry pussy, right there and then.

After kissing and fondling a while longer, we made our way back into the noisy main room, which was in darkness, except for the flashing lights around the stage and dance floor. I eventually spotted Gemma, who was seated at a table, snogging some guy, who seemed to be trying to locate her tonsils with his tongue, whilst trying to simultaneously free her boobs with one hand and venture up her dress with the other.

"You two should get a room, Gemma!" I shouted over the din of music and raised voices.

Gemma extricated herself from under the young man, tugging on the front of her dress, to ensure that her melons were still where they were supposed to be, at least for now.

"Come and sit down... see you've got yourself a fella then, Char," Gemma slurred, clearly quite drunk. "What's 'is name then?"

Ben and I sat down at a couple of spare chairs.

"This is Ben. Ben, this is Gemma, my... roommate."

"This is Andy," slurred Gemma. "Let's hope Andy is a bit 'andy," she said raucously, laughing hysterically at her own joke, squeezing the bulge in front of Andy's trousers, before going back to playing tonsil hockey with him.

"See you in the morning, Gemma. Just remember the room arrangements!" I shouted, to make myself heard over the noise.

With that, Ben and I headed back to the dance floor, for him to glide me around for the final, slow number of the night, before making our way to Room 618.

~~~~~~

I squinted as a ray of sunshine stabbed through a chink in the curtains, hitting me in the eyes like a laser beam. Groggily, I turned to look at my watch on the bedside cabinet. 'Five to nine,' registered in my brain. 'Thank goodness it's Sunday.' I was contemplating rolling over and going back to sleep, then remembered that breakfast was only served till 10am, so I reluctantly dragged myself into a sitting position.

Glancing over at the other bed, I saw Gemma's prone form, still peacefully sleeping. Most of the other attendees had gone back to their homes and families on Saturday afternoon, to spend the remainder of the weekend with them, but as we were heading out on the road first thing on Monday, we'd booked an additional couple of nights.

I reached over the gap to the other bed and gently shook Gemma. "Wakey, wakey," I called softly. "We should go down to breakfast."

Gemma opened one eye. "Wassa time?" she mumbled sleepily.

"Nearly nine. And I'm hungry."

Gemma stretched, her arms raised above her head, fingers locked. The quilt slid down a little and those bloody tits made another appearance. "OK, I'm awake. Make us a coffee, while I nip to the loo?" With that, she slid out from under the quilt and padded, completely naked, to the bathroom.

I busied myself with making us two strong coffees and handed one to Gemma when she emerged from the bathroom. Glancing down at Gemma's chest, I couldn't help but notice a number of love bites on her breasts, blackening and tinged with yellow. I giggled and pointed. "I guess Andy was still hungry then?"

Gemma looked down at the evidence from Friday night, then hoisted one of her big tits up, to examine it more closely. "Yep, he certainly had an appetite... maybe I'll tell you about it later."

During Saturday afternoon and evening, neither of us had mentioned the previous night, as was the custom. Besides, Gemma had a colossal hangover and didn't feel very talkative. Following a meal Saturday night, we'd decided to have a reasonably early night and recover from the excesses.

After having breakfast and more coffee, we were both feeling much more human. "I've an idea," said Gemma. "I know we've got some work to do later, but why don't we go into Birmingham for a few hours, have a stroll round the shops and see the sights? It looks like it will be a nice day." I thought that sounded a lovely idea and happily agreed.

A while later, we were strolling past Gas Street Basin, where we saw a number of brightly painted boats moored up, curls of smoke rising from their black chimneys. Gemma opened her backpack and carefully extracted an Olympus camera. "Wow, what have you got there?" I asked.

"It's the latest digital model," explained Gemma. "I borrowed it from the equipment store. I told them I wanted to try to encourage customers to have adverts with photos. These cameras cost a small fortune, but it's amazing... watch!" With that, she switched the camera on, then framed a shot of the boats in the basin. The shutter clicked, and instantly, the image of the photo appeared on the little screen. "No film, you see... you can take all the pictures you like, and they get stored in a memory."