This chapter can stand by itself, but you'll get more out of this story by reading Chapters 1 and 2.
Dedicated to David. It's my spin on his kinks.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, merchandise, companies, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. All characters in sexual situations are 18 years or older.
Chapter Three
I was leaning against the back wall of the conference room in my best suit and tie watching my boss, Meghan Keller, wrap up a sales presentation to the Weston Corporation. It was mid-afternoon, and she was knocking it out of the park, seamlessly delivering a compelling sales pitch for our company's financial accounting software.
Meghan was my boss but she was more. For two years I secretly lusted after her (as well as Miss Allison). Meghan was thirty-five, the youngest Senior VP ever at Pelham & Associates, one of the leading providers of software solutions to Fortune 500 companies (did that sound like a PBS commercial?). She was beautiful and brilliant.
Of course she was unattainable to me. All beautiful woman under the age of sixty were unattainable to me. I didn't consider myself unattractive, but the passage of time, at age fifty-eight, was not overly kind to me, giving me more girth around my waistline and less hair on top of my head. Meghan, like Miss Allison, was way out of my league. But there was something more that made Meghan unattainable. She was a lesbian. And she had a partner. But hey, there were no rules to lusting after a woman and Meghan was definitely worthy of my lust-filled thoughts. Like Miss Allison, she was taller than average with the long legs and full breasts, sharp as a tack with a wicked sense of humor.
So I was watching Meghan present to an august collection of Weston Corporation executives, including the CEO, CFO and CIO, and I was daydreaming in the back, the bright sun shining on my face. I knew the presentation inside and out so I didn't have to pay close attention. For fuck's sake, I spent two weeks of my life holed up in a windowless conference room preparing it.
I was daydreaming because up until the day before I had exactly zero women in my life -- none. And now I had two. I'd been divorced for what felt like forever and the infrequent sex I was lucky enough to have was completely unmemorable. Then yesterday I got home from a business trip to Cleveland and my next-door neighbor Allison, who was taking care of my cat Lord Vader, confronted me with a hard copy of a sex survey I took that disclosed every single one of my depraved submissive BDSM fantasies in the most graphic of detail.
It was as embarrassing and as turned on as I've been in my life when Allison told me that she was assuming control of my life. Allison became Miss Allison to me.
I was ripe for the taking, especially by a woman as insanely gorgeous as Miss Allison. She was the prom queen of the local high school and aged into a sexy and curvaceous middle-aged woman. When I got to the office that morning Miss Allison had already sent the first two pages of the survey to Meghan. I didn't know how Miss Allison knew Meghan or why she sent Meghan the survey. My strong suspicion was that Miss Allison wanted to embarrass me in front of my boss because humiliation was one of the recurring themes in the survey.
Meghan's reaction to receiving a part of my highly explicit sex survey was not what I expected. Instead of kicking me out of her office she actually went in the exact opposite direction, offering to take the lead on the presentation. On the ride over to meeting Meghan played her cards close to the vest, not raising the survey. I certainly wasn't going to bring it up so it was just stilted small talk for the twenty-minute ride, avoiding the 600-pound gorilla in the room. Maybe she wanted to keep me on edge. Maybe she was just thinking about the presentation.
I started to pay attention again when I saw the closing slide on the big screen and watched Meghan finish up. My eyes scanned the room. Everyone was paying attention. No one was on their phone. For a thirty-minute presentation that was good. Very good.
". . . and in summary, we believe we can provide the best-in-class software system for your financial accounting needs. Our marketing manager, David Elliott, standing there in the back, will handle the Q&A."
Eyes in the conference room turned to the back as Meghan pointed me out. I waved to the group, familiar with most of them. I was the point of contact for the sale and spent countless hours interfacing with the client's IT team, helping determine their specifications and fielding their questions. The Q&A session would give us valuable clues as to whether they were leaning towards a 'buy" decision.
Right before I ambled up to the front to handle the questions the executive assistant who made the arrangements poked her head inside the conference room to snatch the CEO away for an unscheduled call. We were due for a break anyway, so the CEO told us to take fifteen minutes and then reconvene. I was glad I had the extra time to review my notes and visit the restroom one last time.
Everyone had gotten out of their chairs and filed out to the hallway to a long table set up with coffee and pastries. I grabbed a cup of hot coffee and a croissant and went over to Meghan, who was standing by herself drinking her coffee and surveying the crowd.
"You did great boss," I told her. We clinked coffee cups.
"You put together a solid presentation," she said, giving me the credit I was due.
"You know we've won this," she said, saying what was really on her mind.
"I think so," I said, not quite as sure as her.
"Don't fuck up the Q&A," she said in jest but really meaning it.
"I've got it," I said.
"I hope so," she replied, not exactly instilling great confidence in me.
She looked at me critically and then tugged on my tie.
"Why don't you check it in the bathroom before we get back together?"
I wanted to go anyway and her question really sounded like an order.
Then she stopped me before I left her. "Oh David?"
"Uh huh?"
"Question 14," she said cryptically.
"And?"
"That's it," she said.
"OK," I said. It must have been the survey, but I didn't remember what question 14 was and she wasn't going to tell me. Puzzled, I gobbled up the rest of my croissant and headed for the restroom.
* * *
I had to walk down a long hallway before getting to the men's room. It served the executive suite and was tastefully appointed with Carrera marble tiles for the counters and floor and high-end fixtures and faucets. There were fresh cut flowers between each sink and linen towels in lieu of paper ones.
I walked over to the bank of sinks and chose the one farthest from the door to check my tie. Meghan was right. My tie was crooked. I looked in the mirror, fussing with the knot until it looked just right. I heard a click at the door and didn't look back assuming someone else from the meeting came in. I went to the urinals for a quick whiz before going back to the meeting. But then I heard the unmistakable sound of women's high heels on the tile floor that caused me to snap my head back and look at who it was.
Holy shit.
