Wrong Turn, Right Hallway Pt. 03

Wrong Turn, Right Hallway

A Wade Wilson Story

by The Preve

Based on the character and story created by Wade Wilson, and illustration by Lechono

The Author wishes to thank Wade Wilson for his permission in writing this story (and no, it's not that Wade Wilson :D).

Part Three

The Executive Suite:

Part Two

Odetta Welles, chief quantitative analyst, arrived at J&B, just before noon. Nicki's text mentioned a "special" in the Executive Suite.

The Nut Cracker catch someone interesting?

Typically this kind of mischief was Anne's territory. It was uncharacteristic for Nicki to be obtuse. She was usually straightforward.

The Lobby Desk smiled when Odetta entered.

"Oh, Ms. Welles. Happy to see you today."

"Hi, Miles. Just here to do some work. Anybody else here 'sides Security?"

"Maintenance of course, plus the Cleaning Crew, and Ms. Parilla and Ms. Wallace."

The Lobby Desk looked at Odetta with a smile and cocked eyebrow.

"Ah hmm, well, I'm going to have to speak with them about the housing market soon."

Lobby Desk couldn't care less about housing. Odetta was just making small talk. She was waiting for others. She'd head straight to the elevator otherwise.

It's the Executive Suite, he figured. He didn't know exactly what went on up there. Rumors abounded. It wasn't just about entertaining clients, at least not the standard entertainment.

The Lobby Desk was no fool. He put some things together, based on recent happenings.

A streaker in the building, yet the dogs are called off. Ms. Parilla, and I know those whispers about her, and the Nutcracker upstairs. And now Ms. Welles is here, lingering in the lobby. She rarely comes in on Saturdays. Who else is coming?

His answer came shortly.

Two more women entered the lobby. Ms. Cooper and Ms. Moore, the Lobby Desk smiled.

Tilde Cooper was Vice President of Public Relations. Samantha Moore was her personal assistant. Among other duties, said the rumors.

Ms. Cooper was forty, and epitomized the classic body-sculpted, man-eating milf, from her pixie cut flaming red hair, to her ice cold face with its sculpted eyebrows, to the form-fitting business suit, emphasizing a body rivaling Ms. Wallace's.

"I heard they were gym pals, among others," thought the Lobby Desk.

Ms. Cooper's ivory pale skin stood as near counterpart to Ms. Welles' Sudanese dark, and equally flawless, ebony.

Situated somewhere between was Ms. Cooper's assistant, Samantha Moore, 25. Her hair was glossy black, like Odetta's, cut short but not pixie style. Her skin was olive, possibly Mediterranean.

She was shorter, just slightly, than Ms. Cooper, more slender in build but athletic. Her clothes were casual, with a touch of goth. A black T-shirt, Death from the Sandman logo in front, light blue jeans, white athletic shoes, black chain collar around her neck, and kohl lines around her silver eyes completed the rebellious ensemble.

"And there's my favorite quant," Tilde said with a soft smile.

"Tilde, Sam," Odetta smiled back.

"So that's three. Anyone else coming?" Tilde asked.

"Double R texted her eta is two minutes. The Old Lady's coming in tomorrow. The rest say they're busy with other projects."

"I guess it's just us four, then," Tilde said.

"This conference better be worth it," grumbled Samantha, "I'm missing a Black Rose concert for this."

"From what I heard Nicki say, it is," smirked Tilde.

The Lobby Desk missed nothing. Euphemisms were common when talking about the Executive Suite. Even in the informal atmosphere of J&B, plausible deniability was a must.

The fourth arrived a few minutes later. Rosemary "Double R" Robinson, Assistant Legal Counsel. She was thirty-three, curvy voluptuous, with mocha skin, curly dark brown hair with red and black highlights, and eyes of light amber. She was one of the Firm's sharpest lawyers, and the hottest.

"Hail, hail, the gang's all here," she smiled.

"Cliche," Odetta quipped back.

"So I guess this is all for today's conference?" RR asked.

"Pretty much. We'll get the other girls up to speed on Monday," smirked Tilde.

"Well, four it is, I guess. Let's get this over with, later Miles," Odetta nodded.

"Later Miles," RR, Sam, and Tilde singsonged, passing the desk.

The Lobby Desk smiled back. Damn! I wish I were the subject of this "conference," he whistled, then went back to work. He didn't log them in.

The women entered the elevator. Tilde pressed the button for the Executive Suite. They didn't expect much, evinced by the neutral, disinterested expressions on their faces.

Anne and Nicki were generally good about these conferences, and their subjects, but disappointments happened. As it stood, the past year had been exceptionally busy, even grueling, for the Firm.

Stress levels were high. Steam needed venting. Business conferences in the Executive Suite offered more creative pathways, than most.

The carnal bacchanal greeting their eyes, upon the elevator doors opening, presented as a prime example.

It wasn't the first time a few of these women walked into a fuck session, by accident or otherwise. The view impressed, more than usual, especially Tilde. She was an oil lover, like Nicki.

Three gleaming nude bodies, shiny with oil, sweat, and cum, throbbed and gyrated on the glass table.

The quartet recognized Anne and Nicki of course. The young man sandwiched between looked vaguely familiar, but his head was turned away, and the two women partially obscured his body.

Anne glanced up, smiled, then whispered in the young man's ear.

"So, this is the subject, I take it?" Odetta smirked.

"Details in a second Odie," Anne smirked back.

She whispered to Nicki. The two women untangled from the young man, and rose off the table.

Standing up, after such an extended period in their positions, was easy for Anne and Nicki. Years of yoga, exercise, and stretching for flexibility, brought good results for both. The young man required a few moments, though.

"Hi girls," Nicki greeted, and began to stretch. Her pussy was wet, and her hard body gleamed.

Anne shone with oil and sweat, and her body was flushed pink. The ladies noted her hard nipples, and the cum running from her wet pussy.

"Well, looks like you two are in a good session," smiled RR.

Samantha's pussy felt a little damp. She loved nude bodies, female and male. The two women's lustful display excited her, and the young man who'd caused it made her curious.

"So who's the guy?"

"This one's going to be a shock," smiled Anne.

She turned to the table, "You can stand up now."

The young man got off the table, and stood with some difficulty. He faced the women, his head slightly lowered. His eyes were off to the side, gazing at the windows, and a faint blush tinted his face. The young man was most obviously embarrassed.

The four's reactions, on viewing him fully, varied.

Odetta and RR were jaw-dropped. Tilde's eyebrow was cocked higher than usual. Sam's face wore a humored smirk.

"The office boy, Anne?" Tilde asked.

"Uh huh," Anne chuckled back.

"Whoa!" Odetta gawped, "I barely knew this guy existed. His cock . . ."

"Yes, his cock," chuckled Anne, "And that's not all. Turn around young Wade."

The office boy turned without a word.

"Holy fuck!" RR goggled, "That's one fine ass!"

"Mm . . . Mm . . . Mm!" Odetta agreed.

"Oh man," chorused Sam.

"We had this package working here for how long?" asked Tilde.

"Two years," Nicki replied.

"Right under our noses and we never knew." Few things surprised Sam. This revelation, of formerly hidden attributes by a person, cute yes, but barely noticeable otherwise, disturbed her mildly. I wonder who else I know has a secret?

"How did you find this one out?" Tilde asked.

"By accident," Anne replied, "Young Wade, here, was streaking on the fourth floor and I bumped into him."

"Streaking?" smirked Sam.

"That little shit Robert Wentworth coerced him into this stunt, and then stole his clothes," smiled Nicki, "Unfortunate for Wade, fortunate for us."

"Maybe not so unfortunate," smiled Sam.

Wade, standing still and quiet, agreed. He couldn't lie to himself and say he didn't feel some embarrassment. There was a lot of awkwardness and insecurity about himself. He doubted those feelings would ever go away, but new thoughts and feelings complicated things.

Two hot milfs, his own bosses, had just fucked him; the good kind of fuck, not Robert's.

Four other women, three milfs and a girl just a few years older than him, were here, talking about parts of his body, he'd always considered liabilities than assets.

He'd never been admired, always ignored. He didn't know how to respond, except to do as Ms. Parilla told him.

Wade knew these four. He'd seen them in the building, or they used him for errands from time to time.

Ms. Cooper, with her statuesque body, near perfect face, and scarlet red hair. Her cold emerald eyes assessed everything around her, and found much wanting. He'd been less than a worm to her. Now he was the focus of her attention.

"Turn him around so he can face me," Tilde said.

"Wade," Anne commanded.

The young man obeyed.

"Remarkable! Magnificent!" thought Tilde.

Most men and women left little impression on Tilde. She kept high standards few could meet. This young man, by all accounts, should fall well below her standards.

His wide brown eyes and soft featured face evoked cute. She hated cute. Tilde preferred the chiseled male model style.

His body certainly wasn't cut. It was skinny by her standards, even if toned.

Tilde, though, was experienced enough to know attributes, normally unattractive to her, could work if put together right. Young Wade provided a prime example.

A "skinny" body, evoking a certain lithesome build, a cute face more magnetic than cloying, matched with a near perfect ass, and a cock and balls set as perfect a Priapus as she'd ever seen, brought out a bloom of desire rarely felt by the redhead.

I'm actually jealous Anne and Nicki got their hands on him before I could.

She swore that privilege would be rectified before the day was out. Along with knowing how his cock would feel in her pussy, and his cum taste on her tongue.

Samantha Moore scared Wade. Rock chicks never really attracted him. She was closest in age to him, mid-twenties to his nineteen.

She'd probably bully the crap out of me in high school.

She looked like she wanted to bully him now. Samantha Moore had dismissed him like the others, but not so much from his low status or age. The vibe she gave was disinterest, and a part of him was glad for that.

Sam looked at this nude young college boy. Wade's assessment was partially correct. She disliked straight laced nerds. Too dull, too timid, and too judgmental in some cases.

She figured her dislike was a product of her upbringing; too many of Wade's type (at least clothed) in her small Milwaukee suburb, in school, and home, including her father and older brothers. She was the rebel in her family, exasperating them, including her mother and two older sisters. She hadn't spoken with any of them since graduating high school.

Wade, the office boy, with his light blue, short sleeve Studio 91 shirt, blue denim pants, and sneakers (also blue, "Blue! Blue! Blue! What is it with this guy?") he wore every day, with no variance, emitted such and aura of dullness as to be invisible to her. More fool me.

Sam was really anxious to know how his body would feel under her hands, but made sure not to display it.

Ms. Welles was the tallest and most intimidating. She was also the chief quant in the Firm. She was taller than Ms. Parilla, not by far, but the way she carried herself made her seem that way.

She dressed conservatively and, with her glasses, reminded Wade of a few no nonsense teachers from high school. She had an IQ of 185, so he heard. She never flaunted it, but Ms. Welles was the smartest in the building. Everyone knew it, especially Wade.

Next to Ms. Parilla, Ms. Welles' beauty equally stunned. Her skin like polished dark mahogany. Her hair, close cropped, like a cap of black ink. She reminded Wade, very much, of Grace Jones. The cool assessment on her face, once again made Wade feel like a misbehaving student.

Odetta assessed and calculated. The boy was well put together, that was obvious. He wasn't an Adonis by any means, nor cut like the Statue of David. The cute boy-next-door image he exuded came right out of Norman Rockwell.

She didn't see many like him back in Baltimore. The boys were cute, yes, but many not quite the next door types. The brains that got her out of West Baltimore, and into the better schools, contained a lot of survival instincts.

The better schools may have contained more next door boys, but only on the surface. It mattered not the color or background, many wanted something or another from her, not all of it brains.

Many boys had expectations, or made assumptions based on her background, and acted on them, or tried, to their regret and often painful. Predatory behavior knew no color, and Odetta honed ways to deal with that.

"I guess I'm calling the kettle black," she thought, looking at Wade. She'd barely noticed him on the floor. He seemed like a nice enough kid. Even as he stood in the suite, nude "nice kid" radiated from him like a halo.

"This kid is the genuine article," she thought. The question was whether his "nice" would hold after she and the others fucked his brains out.

Ms. Robinson, the lawyer, was the curviest woman in the room. "The curviest woman ever," thought Wade.

He'd heard people called her Double R. Robert snarked, "Double D."

Wade rarely saw her. His fetch and carry duties kept him on different floors. Besides, Robert was on the legal floor often, and where Robert was, Wade wasn't.

Ms. Robinson was supposed to be the best. Office scuttlebutt tapped her to take over as Chief Legal Counsel when the current one retired.

She dressed conservatively like the others, excluding Ms. Moore, but the curves shone through.

Ms. Robinson was extraordinarily put together, all her curves just right. Her curly, reddish-brown hair, with black highlights, beautiful round face, pillow lipped, amber eyed, skin like mocha coffee, drew Wade's admiring eyes.

She looked back with an intense interest, and a hungry but mischievous lick of her tongue, that brought a familiar blush to his face.

"Mmm, mmm," thought Double R, "To think we missed a boy this fine in the building."

She'd never noticed Wade. That spoiled little shit, Wentworth, worked on the legal floor most often. He was handsome, but gave her the creeps. She'd dealt with more than her share of toxic frats in Harvard and Yale law. Encounters, sidesteps, dodges, and sparring with the Robert Wentworths often made her question her choice of law, rather than the family business.

Her family ran one of the oldest, most successful funeral parlors in Atlanta. The Robinsons were an institution, prominent in the city, and one of the small group of black families to acquire and hold long term wealth.

Going into law was a break with tradition, but other Robinsons had gone in different directions before. The list included a well-known actor, several politicians, and a Tuskegee Airman.

She doubted her family would approve of her plans for young Wade.

I guess the frat boys, and some colleagues, looked at me the same way. Good thing this is the Executive Suite. What happens in the Executive Suite, stays in the Executive Suite. "So girls, how do you want to do this?"

"Or him," chuckled Samantha.

"Well, I don't want to start on the table, at least until the Cleanup Crew deals with it first. You know I like to start my fucks on clean surfaces," Odetta said.

"You did notify the crew, didn't you?" asked Tilde.

"I put them on standby," Nicki said. "I told them they'd probably be busy today . . . and tomorrow." She winked at Wade, who blushed a self-conscious pink.

"You can't tell me you're embarrassed after what we just did?" smiled Anne.

"I . . . um . . . can't help it, Ms. Parilla. I . . . don't really . . . uh . . . know how to . . . uh . . . deal with this . . ."

"Wow, you are a shy one," laughed Double R.

Wade blushed again, a mild smile on his face.

Naked, in a penthouse, just fucked by two hot milfs, and four more showed up. They're going to fuck me. It's so crazy. I'm going to wake up in the dorm with creamed sheets.

"Why don't we take him in the shower, and let the Cleanup Crew reset the table while we do it?" Samantha suggested.

"Good idea," Anne agreed.

Tilde smiled at her assistant. Sam's suggestion was about more than taking young Wade, obviously. She'd had reservations, initially, about taking aboard the young rebel. Instinct told her she wouldn't regret it. Sam's performance, in the office, and elsewhere, proved her right.

Here's hoping young Wade doesn't take too much of her attention.

How is everyone going to fit in the shower? The question flashed through Wade's brain for a split second before, "Geep!"

Anne, once again, had his cock in her hand.

"Come along, Young Wade. I'm sure you want to get clean for what's coming."

Anne led the very tense, and hard, young office boy up the stairs.

Nicki took her iPhone, typed a few messages, and followed, along with the rest.

The suite was quiet for a few minutes. The elevator doors opened. The people, five in all, who walked out, went immediately to work.

A person viewing them would first think, Crime scene cleanup, or decontamination squad. The next thought would be, Special forces assault team.

Such thoughts wouldn't be far from the truth. The employees of the agency involved were heavily recruited from those professions.

Such training as they represented was repurposed by the Agency, for tasks such as the one currently being performed: discreet cleanups and sanitation for very wealthy clientele.

Employees were very closely vetted, and carefully trained. They were to be quick, efficient, and thorough, plus quiet, and concealed when possible. It couldn't always be helped.

Crime scene cleanup (post evidence gathering by the appropriate law enforcement organizations) and freelance work for various clandestine agencies, were also included among the tasks offered by the Agency.

The best money, though, came from rich and powerful corporations like Jansonn and Berkshire . . . along with the people who ran them.

The Agency kept strict rules: no cleaning, or tampering, with evidence of a crime. If new evidence is discovered in the course of the cleaning, it is to be turned over to the authorities immediately (exceptions were given to clandestine agencies, as such activities were related to national security. Besides, the founders and director of the Agency were former operatives, and somewhat biased).

Any request by clients to the Agency and/or its members to conceal, or tamper with, evidence of a crime would be refused and reported immediately to the authorities.

Employees were trained to ignore all activities in the designated area, unless an active crime was in progress.

As it stood, the five individuals exemplified the Agency's professionalism.

They swarmed through the suite, in their filter masks, decon suits, and carrying cleaning equipment.