Mixing Business With Pleasure 6

Mixing Business with Pleasure

Is it ever a good idea?

soppingwetpanties

Dedicated to L.K.

She now wants to, and in this story she does.

Also a shout out to S.

A true friend is hard to find.

They provided the inspiration for this work.

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.

* * *

At age forty-two, Karen discovered a deep well of desire within her, all traceable to her latent submissive tendencies.

She drank deeply from that well with the help of her best friend Ally and her two newest friends, a married couple, Carlo and Mirabelle.

She was divorced for many years and her four children were old enough to function independently, though two of them were still living with her.

She lived in a modest suburban house and worked as a sales representative at a national greeting card company headquartered in her home town.

Her introduction to domination and submission is chronicled in "No Turning Back."

This is a continuation of her story, told through her eyes.

It's not necessary to read "No Turning Back," but it does give you the back story on how Karen discovered she was a submissive (and is a pretty good story to boot!).

Enjoy!

* * *

Somewhere in the South -- Present Day

It was a hot and muggy Friday afternoon, a typical one for a town in the southern part of Georgia. High, wispy clouds and a bright sun led me to one inescapable conclusion -- pool time. We were wrapping up another end of the week meeting, rehashing our sales goals and identifying new prospective clients for our team to pursue. My butt was starting to hurt in the uncomfortable conference room chair.

I took the job as a sales person because it was the only offer I got after six months of looking. I spent the previous twenty years as a stay at home mom, and my re-entry into the workplace gave me limited options. I was actually a teacher by trade and had no formal training in sales. I always struggled to meet my sales goals, but somehow I limped along the past two years with mediocre performance reviews.

My best friend Ally and I were trying to pay attention to our new sales manager, a lithesome flaming redhead, with a fiery temper to match, but our eyes kept wandering to the conference room window, and the freedom of the outside.

Juliet Andrews, our new sales director, was droning on, and I heard nothing but snippets of her presentation as my mind faded in and out. She was a turnaround specialist, most recently as sales director for a major pharmaceutical company. She had written a book about turning around a sales department, and her legendary tactics were widely employed by sales directors. Of course, as I found out, all of her tricks of the trade weren't revealed in her book, which therefore made her in high demand for her entire career.

She wanted to move closer to home to be with her immediate family so she relocated to our town. Our sales department had been dragging of late, and the company felt fortunate to have such a qualified person step in to re-energize that function. The people in the sales department were a fun loving group, and maybe I hadn't given it my all with the distractions of my newly found sex life and Juliet's lax predecessor, Dan Hogan.

" ... and in the West Region, we expect an uptick in volume due to ...".

I was jarred when a coffee cup slammed against the conference room table.

"Karen!" Juliet was staring at me, her eyes burning. "What planet are you on?"

I had to pull it together, and quickly.

"umm ... Earth?" I replied, trying not to sound like a smartass. All eyes in the conference room were trained on me, not unlike a flock of sheep, watching one of their own get carved out of the herd by a hungry coyote.

"Then tell me what I just said."

"Well ... umm ... the West Region ...". My voice faltered. I hadn't heard much of what she had said for the past half hour. It was time to get my drink on, and whatever else Ally had planned for the weekend. It was not the time to get grilled by my new boss in front of my colleagues.

"And?"

She was leaning forward on the conference room table. For some unexplained reason I was looking at her impressive breasts, partially exposed as her blouse drooped down. My mind was drawing a blank.

"And ... I don't know. I'm sorry Ms. Andrews, I may have missed what you just said."

Ms. Andrews ... Ms. Juliet Andrews ... took the place of Dan Hogan, who recently accepted a transfer, and a "promotion," to head our regional office in St. Louis. In truth, what I heard, was that he was sent out to the hinterlands when he lost control of the sales department. She was an attractive woman in her 30's, wavy red hair, and a lean physique with attention getting breasts. The male contingent in our group was already joking behind her back that her hills were alive ... and jiggling, with the sound of music.

Of course none of that salacious talk ever reached her ears. That would have meant castration ... or worse. And no one called her Julie. No one. Juliet was as hard ass as they came, making even me wish that Dan was still our boss.

"Fall asleep in my meeting again and it'll be reflected on your next performance review. Is that clear Ms. Barnett?"

"Crystal," I replied. I felt like I was ten inches tall.

Then she announced to the group, "Because of Ms. Barnett's short attention span, we'll go over the sales goals again."

It was 4:45, and there was a collective groan in the conference room. Eyes shooting daggers were aimed at me. I tried to curl up in the fetal position in my chair. I don't think I would have won a popularity contest at that point.

We went through the entire power point deck once again, and thirty minutes after our usual quitting time the interminable meeting finally came to an end. I raced for my cubicle to collect my things and escape. Ally collared me there.

"My place in thirty minutes?" she asked.

"Wouldn't miss it," I replied, shoving the handouts from the meeting into my tote. I intended to study them over the weekend so I wouldn't be caught flat footed again by the dragon lady.

"Good," said Ally with her trademark smirk. "You're going to need the cold water to put out the flames set by Ms. Julie fucking Andrews."

I took her barb without a rejoinder. She had to sit through the extended meeting along with everyone else so it was a well-deserved poke.

* * *

It was our usual routine that summer for me to go to Ally's place on Friday afternoon to enjoy a swim in the oversized pool that was in the center of her apartment complex. I'd been hanging out with Ally almost every day, despite the fact that she was more than ten years my junior.

We bonded instantly at work, and that bond become unbreakable after she introduced me to the BDSM club where she was a member. It was there that I got my first taste of domination and submission, and much to my surprise, I discovered that I had an unquenchable thirst for submission. Ally dabbled in it, mostly as a bottom, because it was fun. For me, it was a lifestyle. Ally helped me challenge my preconceived notions about the roles of men and women, and embrace my submissive side. I was never turning back to my former life, as a divorcee in a sexless, and quite frankly, humdrum existence.

I parked in my usual spot in one of the guest parking spaces and stepped out of my car onto the sun baked asphalt. The air was shimmering over the sizzling black surface. I reached into the back seat to retrieve my tote, which had in it my new bikini that her roommate Sam had scored for me, along with a twelve pack of Ally's favorite brand of beer. I trudged through a sea of cars in the parking lot and located the walkway that led to the pool. The shade of the buildings offered welcome relief from the searing sun, that is until I arrived at the expansive lawn surrounding an Olympic size pool. I opened the gate to the pool area and saw that Ally had already staked out a few chaise lounges near the deep end. It was still in the low 90's outside, and the humidity wasn't that far off from the temperature.

"Hey girlfriend," I heard her shout across the pool. She was sitting up on her chaise and waving at me. She of course looked amazing, wearing a skimpy white bikini that left nothing to the imagination. Her full, rounded breasts were practically spilling out of her top, and the thong for the bottom took all the guesswork out of her perfectly rounded ass. My adventures with Carlo and Mirabelle, a couple I met at the club and continued to see, taught me that in the right circumstances I could find a woman attractive to me, and Ally's racy swim suit stirred the still waters in the black part of my soul.

"Hi!" I managed to say back, making a conscious effort to suppress the dark thoughts I was about to harbor about my best friend.

There were at least a dozen people lounging around the pool, and several in it. Most were paired off in couples, and the ones out of the pool were drinking and engaged in intimate conversation. It was a youngish crowd, and I'd learned that hanging out with Ally meant that I would always be the oldest person there. It didn't bother me as much anymore, as embracing my submissive side actually helped with my self-confidence.

Ally patted the lounge chair next to her. I pulled a beach towel out of my canvas tote and draped it over the back. I grabbed the twelve pack by the cutout and handed it to her.

"Ohhhh," she squealed when she saw it. "My favorite." She ripped open the cardboard carton and immediately popped open one of the ice cold cans.

"Mmmmm ...," she purred, draining half the can on her first draw. She surprised me by grabbing my arm and pulling me close to her, kissing me full on the lips. My lips instinctively parted, and I could taste her peachy lip balm and the hops from her beer. It was a quick kiss that neither of us treated as anything sexual. It was just Ally being Ally.

"Hey, I've got to change," I said to her, pointing to the bikini in my bag. The price tag was still attached to it.

She reached under her chaise and then threw her apartment key to me. I caught it with both hands.

"Use my apartment. Take your time. I've got twelve friends to entertain me here," she said jokingly, pointing to the carton of beer.

I picked up my tote and left the pool area. I'd been to Ally's place a number of times and knew the circuitous route to her third floor apartment. I trudged up the stairs and verified the apartment number before unlocking the door. Ally shared the two bedroom apartment with Sam, a perky redhead who was a salesperson in one of the high end fashion departments at Nordstrom. Sam was one of my best buddies, having scored for me the bikini I was about to wear as well as a number of pairs of designer shoes at a deep discount.

Sam was also an occasional social friend, and at least once (maybe twice) Sam was in the audience when I was on stage at the club with Carlo and Mirabelle, so she saw me naked and doing things that she definitely couldn't repeat to her mother.

The apartment was dark so I turned on the light and padded across the carpeted living room to the door of Ally's room. I pushed the door open and felt for the light switch. I pressed the rocker switch and saw Sam laying in Ally's bed, knees up, with a vibrator buried in her pussy.

"Shit!" Sam shouted at me, pulling the sheet over her. "What are you doing here?"

"I came up here to change," I answered. "The better question is what are you doing here?"

"I live here."

"Not in Ally's bedroom."

She realized I was right.

"I was ... borrowing ... Ally's vibrator."

"That's a pretty intimate thing to borrow," I said, noticing that the drawer to her nightstand was open.

"She's used it on me before ...". Her voice trailed off. I'm sure the last thing she wanted to do was explain it to me. I guess Ally and Sam were more than roommates.

"I'll use your bedroom to change," I offered. I was already halfway out the door, with my hand on the handle to close it.

My body was buzzing. Did everything with Ally revolve around sex? It seemed so. Sam was so cute, and her shaved pussy was so wet I could see the gloss on her pubic area. I went without for so long, and now it seemed like everywhere I turned there was something naughty going on.

I changed into my new bikini. It was snug, and I felt like I was in my twenties again. Maybe a bit of a roll around my waist, but my boobs were still worth looking at and my legs weren't bad. In my old life, I would have never dreamed of wearing it in public. But that was my old life. I just didn't care as much about what other people thought about me. And that made me feel good.

I put on my flip flops and made my way back to the pool. Ally was fully reclined on her chaise, and there were two empty beer cans laying on their side next to her. She sat up when she heard me sit next to her, and put on her sunglasses.

"What took you so long? That was a two beer wardrobe change."

"I ran into Sam in your bedroom."

Ally slipped off her sunglasses so I could see her bright blue eyes. "Oh shit! I forgot to tell you that Sam was still in the apartment."

I rolled my eyeballs. "Uhh ... she was in your bed ... with one of your toys."

"No shit," she said as if she was surprised.

"It was ... uhh ... in use when I saw her."

"I'm so sorry ...".

"Don't be," I replied, cutting off her apology. "I think Sam saw me at least once in the club ... you know ... probably Carlo was fucking me up the ass or something like that." It seemed perfectly natural to talk to Ally like this. She's the one that introduced me to Carlo and Mirabelle ... and the club.

Ally relaxed. I'm sure she figured it was more embarrassing for Sam than it was for me.

"Speaking of the club," said Ally, grabbing another beer and putting her sunglasses back on, "there's a special night once a year, and you might be interested in it."

I took a beer out of the box and popped the tab. It was an IPA, hoppy and citrusy, but refreshing on a hot, muggy day. I loved it when Ally and I could talk about sex. I went years without it, and now I couldn't stop thinking about it.

"Tell me."

"We recruit about a dozen people, half women and half men, to be the 'entertainment' at our club's costume party."

"I can imagine what you mean by entertainment."

"Right," she confirmed. "They're all subs ... and they wear a hood and a harness. The usual limits apply, but everything else is fair game."

"When is it?"

"Couple weeks. I'll forward you the invite."

I'd played at the club a number of times as Ally's guest. My membership was pending. I knew the usual limits were blood, scat, permanent markings, and that was about it. I knew that anal sex was definitely on the table because Carlo's big, fat cock was in my ass more than once at the club.

"I'm in," I said without hesitation. "I'm ...".

"I already put your name in," said Ally, cutting me off.

* * *

One Week Later

Juliet was hell on wheels at work. We missed our bi-weekly sales target, and for some reason I bore the brunt of her ire. I didn't understand why it was me, maybe because I was one of the newer hires or maybe it was because she had figured out that I didn't like her. I did have a hard time not wearing my emotions on my sleeve. In any event, I was struggling, and with two boys at home to support I really needed to keep my job.

During our Friday afternoon meeting Juliet singled me out for my underachieving sales performance. I didn't appreciate it, and we traded sharp words right before the end of the meeting. As the meeting concluded, and everyone was picking up their things, she said, "Barnett ... my office ... now."

Fuck. Exactly what I didn't need.

I followed her to her office. It was Dan's old office, but she had redecorated it. Gone was the plain office furniture, and in its place were more elegant furnishings, complementary to the sharp clothes she wore to work. She was wearing a tailored business suit with a blazer and matching skirt. Her hair and make-up was perfect. Even during this tense moment, I couldn't help noticing how attractive she looked.

Before I sat down she fired the first salvo.

"I don't appreciate your attitude, Karen."

That was a nice way to kick the meeting off.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Andrews, I apologize if ..."

"You don't like me, do you?"

"I do ... I ...".

"Cut the bullshit Karen. It's obvious from your indifference in our meetings and your body language. I'm sensing it now ...".

We experienced a painful silence while I tried to rescue this situation.

"Well, Ms. Andrews, I get the distinct sense that you've got it in for me and I don't know why."

"I've told you. I don't like your attitude. And it doesn't help that you've missed your sales goal this period. That hasn't helped the team or the company."

"It's a tough economy right now, and I think ...".

"We're all in the same boat, Karen. Your friend Ally hasn't had any issues reaching her sales goal."

"Ally's been here a lot longer than me," I argued.

"Maybe Ally's a better salesperson."

That hurt, but it was probably true. Ally could sell a pair of shoes to a snake.

"Look Karen," she said, trying to sound a bit more conciliatory. "I want you to succeed. But you have to trust me, and trust my methods. We'll get through this. But it has to be my way. Capiche?"

She came around her desk to stand right next to me ... uncomfortably close. She put her hand on my shoulder. "We're good?"

"We're good."

We definitely weren't good. I saw my job slipping through my fingers.

For a moment, I thought I saw her looking down the front of my dress. Then she looked at me, into my eyes, like it was a window into my soul.

"You want to please me, don't you Karen?"

The tone of her voice stirred something deep within me. It unnerved me.

"I do ... Ms. Andrews. I really do."

"Good ... now get out of my office."

* * *

"So how'd it go with the bitch master?" asked Ally. She was already sitting at the bar, drinking a beer and eating the free peanuts.

I sat next to her and ordered a glass of white wine. "Terrible. I think I have one foot out the door."

"She seems like she has it in for you." She flipped a peanut into her mouth.

"She doesn't for you," I complained. "When she scolded me about not meeting my sales goal she was kind enough to point out that you didn't have any problems meeting yours."

"Well, I can't apologize for that. Can I help it if I'm a natural salesperson?" She curled her fingers and looked at her manicured nails as if she was congratulating herself.

"Fuck you Ally," I said, in jest, but maybe not. "I'm drowning here."

"Don't worry girlfriend. It'll all work out."

Ally was the eternal optimist. Me? Not so much.

* * *

I was at Carlo and Mirabelle's house. I had a standing invitation for Saturday night dinner at their house, and then playtime if the kids weren't in the house. On this particular Saturday their two youngest were at their grandparent's house, which left the three of us to our own devices. Carlo was in charge of the devices.

Mirabelle was an excellent cook and prepared one of Carlo's favorites,

cacio e pepe,

a pasta with pecorino and romano cheese and black pepper, a dish with simple ingredients, but difficult to execute. It was accompanied with a fabulous Brunello from Carlo's home town, Montalcino, a picturesque town in Tuscany that I visited on my honeymoon.