Maggie Climbs the Corporate Ladder

This is a patently romantic story, told exclusively through Maggie's eyes; Maggie is an attractive, confident, intelligent, well educated young woman on the first rung of the corporate ladder. She finds herself increasingly attracted to---almost obsessed with---her new boss, a married man ten years her senior. Maggie is not a slut; she enjoys sex and likes men, but has always been very selective. As the story begins, her business, romantic and sexual life are all at a low ebb.

The, 'dirty parts' of the story for over 90% of it, are essentially confined to Maggie's increasingly erotic thoughts and musing as her attraction to Steve intensifies. The real sex is near the end; it is hot, passionate and adventurous, but also intensely romantic.

Maggie Phillips pulled into the parking lot of her company's local office. She had worked for the company for over eleven months; she had become more than a little disillusioned. She had a first class education from an Ivy League university, graduating Magna Cum Laude. She had an MBA from a top Southwestern business school, ranked as one of the best in the nation. She'd gone there to get away from the damned weather in the Northeast. The weather here, where she was now working, wasn't that hot either.

The company had made her a very generous offer to come onboard as a sales representative, selling their extensive line of high tech products. The founder and chairman had won her over immediately. It had seemed like such a neat company when she interviewed a year earlier at the corporate offices. The realities of the company's, 'true' culture had quickly become evident in this, medium sized city, 'outpost'.

Maggie got an MBA for her father. He never pushed her, but she was daddy's girl. He was a businessman and she would become a business woman. Her mother was a moderately successful writer and could easily have lived quite comfortably on what she made writing. Writing was Maggie's true passion. She could have continued to sponge off her parents, they weren't hurting financially, and tried her hand at a writing career. That was not Maggie. She was independent, assertive and confident in her own ability. Ultimately, she knew she wanted a family—a husband and a couple of kids. At the moment her prospects weren't very good in that department.

In college, she had dated regularly; in both college and grad school, she had been sexually active. She was certainly not a slut, but if she did say so herself, she was pretty damned good in bed. She gave Olympic Gold Medal head. She was not afraid to try different things. She liked men and she liked to fuck. Since grad school, her sex life had deteriorated significantly. Here in this dismal city, she had an on and off relationship with a guy that it would have been hard to call a real, 'boyfriend'.

Maggie didn't chase men, men chased her; few of them caught her, however. She was a strong young woman, like her mother must have been, and she found few men strong enough to make her happy. She had, through college, had more male friends than female friends; most of those friends were, 'buddies' not lovers.

She had her share of lovers in college, but had yet to find that man who could be her friend and her lover. Somewhere out there was a man who wouldn't be intimidated by her strength, brains and beauty; there had to be that special someone who you just enjoy being around---want to grow old with. Whoever he was---wherever he was---he also would have to make her melt in the sack. He would have to be that man who couldn't keep his hands off her, nor would she be able to keep her hands off him. Maggie made no apologies for her libidinous nature. She loved sex, hated being without it, but wanted more than a roll in the hay as she thought about her future.

Maggie was a looker; some might even say a 'knock-out'. She turned heads. In heels, she was taller than most men. She hit a golf ball farther and a tennis serve harder than most of them did. She had a quick wit and an irreverent playfulness; she knew that, too often, she intimidated men. As she drove to the office today, she was pretty sure that she didn't have a decent prospect of getting laid this weekend. And certainly, even if she got lucky, it was doubtful to be a great fuck.

She had some work to do in the office, but was here primarily to meet her new boss, the new sales manager. The previous sales manager had been a total jerk. He was sexist and condescending; he hadn't done his job very well, at least from her perspective. His primary job was to help the newer sales reps succeed. The recently departed ass hole had spent most of his time playing golf and schmoozing the senior reps and the Vice President---another completely clueless jerk. He treated the office staff like crap and had seldom, if ever, traveled with her, or many of the other young reps in his short, seven month tenure. He had been promoted, which astounded her; it surprised everyone that worked out of this office.

So who was the new guy? The VP had sent out the traditional memo, 'welcoming him to the team', a few days earlier. He was older than his predecessor; based on the dates listed for major life accomplishments, she guessed he was in his thirties, maybe as old as thirty-five. Thirty-five, that sounded really old to Maggie; hope he doesn't use a walker, she joked with herself.

He had been promoted very quickly from the field; she assumed this reflected the fact that he had not come to work for the company right out of college, had previous experience in the marketplace and that he had done very well in his field position. Maggie was twenty-five, more than half way to twenty-six. Maybe she'd die a spinster; based on her current love life, it was not out of the realm of possibility.

The new guy, she was sure his name was Steve Something, had graduated from a top Southern University noted for its engineering school. She dealt with a lot of engineers in her work; they could be a pretty dull and dry lot. He had an MBA from a respected, Midwestern school; it was one of the top business schools in the nation.

He had served in the military, as a pilot, she recalled and had served in combat. He was married, she remembered. She also had heard that his wife and family---if he had a family---weren't going to make the move with him. This was a little unusual, but not unprecedented, since this rung on the career ladder never lasted more than a year. Maybe Mrs. New Sales Manager had her own career and didn't want to give it up. Maybe they had kids in school.

Maggie checked her makeup in the rear view mirror. She examined her reflection in the mirrored glass at the front of the building. She knew she was at least an eight on the 'hotness' scale, and on her best days, approached the ten range. She had a full head of naturally wavy, dark blond hair---her true color. Her breasts were small, a good 'B' cup, and certainly 'perky'.

She didn't have model looks, but did have wide-set, deep blue eyes, decent cheekbones and a great smile. Her legs were long and tanned and her butt turned heads wherever she went. This was her best business suit and she looked both professional and sexy when she wore it. She'd had her share of passes from the lecherous older reps in the sales force; the VP routinely undressed her with his eyes, as did some of her least enjoyable customers.

Maggie reflected again on the fact that she really didn't like this city. She missed the camaraderie and friendship of college and grad school. Dating was complicated. She wondered why she didn't just end it with the, on again off again, 'boy friend'; he was not great in the sack and was beginning to bore her with his predictability. There was one other girl her age in the sales force, but they had little in common. The office girls were nice and she genuinely liked them, but clearly knew it would not be appropriate to, 'hang out' with them.

She greeted the receptionist at the front desk warmly and made her way to her customer service rep, or at least the woman she, 'shared' with two other reps. This lady had been more helpful to her than anyone else in the place. After exchanging pleasantries and resolving some customer issues, she cautiously asked the older woman---old enough to be her mother, she assumed--- about the new guy.

"So, what's he like?" She asked, almost in a whisper.

"On first impression, he seems very nice." The woman replied. "He took the time to come in early and spend time with all of the office staff. He went around to every desk and introduced himself. He unquestionably got a couple of the younger ones very wet. He paid attention and maintained eye contact. He appears to be exceptionally knowledgeable about our products---knows the technicals inside and out. He's definitely an improvement."

The older woman continued. "He's also a cutie." She stated in a confidential tone. "I'd certainly jump his bones, if I was a few years younger."

They both laughed. Maggie worked her way over to the new guy's secretary. She was also an older woman, probably in her middle or late forties, trim, neat and professional.

"Can I get a few minutes with the, 'boss'?" She inquired.

"Absolutely, Maggie, Steve's been expecting you. He's not on the phone, so just go on in." The secretary told her, adding in a hushed tone. "You're going to like him!"

That was a switch, Maggie thought. The previous one always kept the young sales reps waiting in the reception area as some sort of power play. She walked to the open door and lightly tapped.

"Maggie!" He exclaimed. "It's great to meet you; I'm Steve. Steve Meyers."

And as he spoke, he moved from behind the desk and came over to shake her hand. His movement was smooth and fluid, almost like jungle cat on the prowl, nothing awkward or uncoordinated. This was a very different style from the former jerk; that guy had not shaken her hand the entire time he had been here. He also never came out from behind his desk.

The desk was different. Steve had already gotten rid of the overbearing crap the old manager had and replaced it with less ostentatious, more open and friendly furniture. The art on the wall was different; it was more modern, less clichéd. She wondered if the company paid for the makeover.

There was also a computer terminal behind his desk; there was some sort of spread sheet on the screen. Steve's predecessor couldn't turn on a computer, much less use it. Her new boss guided her toward the long couch which faced the desk; that was new. Previously there had been very uncomfortable, straight back, office chairs where the couch now resided.

"How do you take your coffee?" Steve asked.

Without even thinking, she replied. "Black, I like my coffee black."

"Good choice, I'm ready for a refill. Can I get you a cup?" He asked.

"That would be great." She replied, assuming that he would direct his secretary to scurry to the conference room next door to procure the java, as the prior jerk and the VP would have done.

"Make yourself comfortable. I'll be back in a jiffy." Steve said, moving out the door to get coffee for both of them.

A jiffy? That was a word her dad used. How old was this guy, again? He didn't look that old; even if he was 35, he carried it well. How old is he? Oh, great Maggie, that should be your first question. That'll be impressive. On reflection, she realized that he had the maturity of someone much older in his eyes, but the style and movement of a younger man. Her dad once told her that combat did that to a man.

She guessed that he must be making fresh coffee; he was gone for several minutes. He's not too good to make a new pot of coffee, wow. During the wait, she began to examine the office and gather clues as to who this guy really was. That was a technique that the company had taught her in sales training; find out who the, 'customer' is, so you can find points of common interest.

The art on the walls was eclectic, ranging from black and white photo art---which seemed to be original work---to modern acrylic paintings. She was surprised to note that one painting in particular, one she found quite compelling, appeared to be an original. On closer examination, she noted the signature and recognized the artist, though not this particular work. What was this baby worth? She mused.

There was a picture of him and some other men in military uniform, flight suits, actually; they were standing in front of an angry looking military aircraft with shark teeth painted on the snout. No photos of children, no loving wife pictures. What was that all about?

His degrees were framed and matted on a small wall to the left of his desk, the, 'ego wall' as it was commonly called. Summa Cum Laude, it said. An engineering degree, wow, that could go either way. His commission as an officer in a branch of military service was included in the small cluster of life achievements. A photo of a general pinning an award on him was at one corner.

Her father had served in the military during the Korean war as a Navy Corpsman; her brother had been a Marine, but had not seen combat. This was obviously Army, the aircraft had been some sort of helicopter.

She recognized the general in the photo as pretty famous; he had been in charge of the war in Vietnam for some period of time. The citation framed with the photo indicated that he had been awarded the Silver Star. Impressive, she thought. He was a legitimate war hero. The small cluster of award ribbons, also framed with the other objects, included four rows; she didn't have the faintest idea what they were for, but had no doubt that he had served valorously. She assumed that those 'V' things on more than one stood for 'valor'.

A photo with him standing between two people, lovingly embracing him, was also prominently displayed; those were his parents, she assumed. An only child? Maybe. As she turned to return to the couch, she noted, for the first time, soft music in the background It wasn't the obnoxious piped in office music; it was classical music, Mozart she realized, piano, a concerto. I'm impressed, she thought to herself. Steve returned with two steaming mugs of fresh coffee.

"Sorry it took so long." He said apologetically. "I had to start a new pot."

As he handed her the coffee and gestured for her to sit down, he took a seat at the other end of the couch, not behind his desk---another surprise. He moved with purpose and had that erect carriage that belied his military service. When he sat down, he assumed a relaxed posture, turning toward her with his body, open and friendly. They began to chat.

He asked her the usual questions about her previous life, her family and her college experiences. She never felt as if she was being grilled or evaluated. He paid attention; he maintained eye contact; he seemed genuinely interested. Those eyes; they're blue, but a lighter blue then mine. They're easy to look at, but penetrating at the same time. As she related her life accomplishments and her experiences since coming to work for the company, she took the opportunity to check him out.

Maggie stood about five foot eight inches, just nearing six feet in her, 'intimidator' heels. Steve, she guessed, was just a hair over six feet, maybe six one. His shirt was starched white cotton, straight collar and fit him so well that she assumed it was custom tailored. The tie was more interesting than the other men in the company normally displayed. It was obviously silk; the knot was a perfect Windsor. The shoes were loafers, but high end, not department store,Bally, she thought. The suit pants were obviously wool, and also appeared to be custom tailored.

Steve had blond hair, cut shorter than was the current fashion, but not unattractively so. As she stole glances at his face, she realized that he was quite handsome. His mouth smiled easily, not leering, just comfortable. A hint of tan, but not excessive.

She got back to his eyes. His eyes were more powder blue; 'bedroom eyes' she thought; they had a crinkle at the edges that hinted at playfulness. He had good bone structure, close set ears and a solid, but not too prominent chin. His hands were large, but not out of proportion; he probably wore a size eleven or twelve glove. Large hands meant a large---she caught herself from drifting off into inappropriate thoughts.

Casually, she asked about his wife and kids—if there were little ones. He gave her a brief synopsis, not with any discernible emotion, but the smile had faded, ever so slightly.

"Janet has her own career; she's a lawyer, Harvard, Law Review, all that important stuff." He told her. "She was invited to become a clerk for a U.S. District Judge in North Carolina, an opportunity that would have been impossible to refuse. She won't be joining me on this move. There are no little ones." And at that statement, she noted a hint of sadness which passed quickly.

Steve continued. "So, Maggie, I need to let you get out of here so you can go make the corporation lots of money!" He smiled. "Let's compare calendars, and see how quickly we can schedule travel time together."

They compared calendars and found a good date later the same week, a day on which she worked with her most significant, but also most demanding, customers.

As she rose to leave, he took her hand. "Thank you for coming in to see me; I really enjoyed getting to know you a bit and look forward to working with you on Thursday."

He said the words warmly, with no hint of flirtation, as he walked her to the building's front door. The former manager would have simply, 'dismissed her' when he was done. Nice touch, she thought. The guy's got style. As her customer service rep had commented, he was cute, no he was hot. In any event, he was a nice looking man.

Decent guy, she thought. Nice guy. Cute guy. A huge improvement.

As she drove off to begin her day she was pleased. She mulled over her meeting with Steve. He's smart, he's knowledgeable and he's cute, no not cute, handsome, no, he's hot. She kept coming back to hot. And as she started to fantasize a little too much about Steve, she caught herself, returning her brain to planning her day's activities.

When a manager traveled with a sales rep, it was customary for them to meet someplace that was reasonably convenient for both of them. The former sales manager had often violated the unwritten rule, if he ever traveled at all. With that jerk, it was always what was convenient for him.

Maggie was renting a small apartment about an hour from the office which was conveniently located to her primary customers. She had no idea where Steve lived, or if had even found a house. It was also standard procedure that the sales rep would drive, since he or she knew where they were scheduled to go; the manager would pickup lunch.

It turned out that Steve lived about half way between the office and Maggie's apartment. He offered to meet her at her place and leave his car there. This was a pretty typical arrangement, or at least what should have occurred, but never did with Steve's predecessor.

He told Maggie where he lived; she gave him directions to her apartment complex. She knew enough about the city to realize that his home, and it had to be a house, was in one of the oldest sections of the city, probably on the river and certainly not low rent. Most of those houses were historical properties and easily ran up into the six figures. She thought about driving by his house to check it out; she could envision the embarrassment of him seeing her, somehow, and then having to explain what the hell she was doing stalking him. How the hell can he be living there on a Sales Manager's salary? Maybe, 'Janet', the wife, had money.

Wednesday evening, she wasn't sure if he would come to the door, or she would walk down and meet him. Just in case, she cleaned the small apartment and put out fresh flowers. Early the next morning, as it turned out, she saw him drive up and decided to meet him in the parking lot.