NOTE: This is possibly fiction. Spelling is English-English and grammar is copyright to the author.
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CHAPTER 1
Winter's chill swept the county somewhere in southern England where the young clerk Annie Forsythe came into the office of the managing director and said, "Mrs Marks has sent me sir."
"Yes?"
"You wanted your filing folders checked for a missing folder, 'The Alpha Project'.
"Yes, I was expecting a senior."
"Goodbye sir."
Clem Olsen watched the kid walk to the door and then asked mildly, "Where are you going?"
"To report back to Mrs Marks sir to say you do not require the services of a keen, athletic woman with excellent eyesight and the ability to focus who can look for a misfiled file in two days. Instead it seems you'd prefer an old frump who'd go through the motions of looking and taking all week and thinking about serving the kids sausages and chips this evening and then doing a lovely piece of steak for herself and her beer-smelling husband."
"I see."
"What do you see Sir Clem?"
"At the risk of breaking politically correct convention, you are pretty, have a great figure and would give me delicious thoughts when I look up and see your throbbing body bent over my filing drawers. For a young person you don't seem to mind I file conventionally because I don't trust blasted computers."
"Throbbing body sir?"
"Oh, it's just something that jumped into my mind Annie. I don't get much of a look at young bodies these days."
Annie's orderly mind kept her focused. "Computers serve their purpose and one can wipe a file and if it wasn't backed up it can be lost forever. I'll find your Alpha Project file if it's in these drawers sir."
"Well, get started before it's time for me to drop into a pub for a few ales before I go home to my wife and her lovely piece of steak and the kids come in whining asking me to help them with their homework."
"Life sucks, doesn't it Sir Clem?"
"Annie, at the risk of being in breach of manger-employee code of conduct and the Sexual Discrimination Act, do you suck?"
"The feedback received praises me no end sir."
"And now I have excellent feedback. Start with the filing Annie -- A through Z."
"Yes sir. I was unaware I would be doing this so am in a modest skirt today but tomorrow when I've going through cabinets C and D on the bottom I shall wear my mini skirt. I'll arrive in my winter coat and boots so no one will be any the wiser. Right sir?"
"You have executive potential Annie and perhaps rising to most prestigious heights with me privately -- my private parts that is."
"As you wish sir. I'd even screw in light bulbs if it meant more money."
Clem tapped his teeth with a pencil as he studied the best thing about his office currently -- Annie standing tall to peer into the top drawer holding A files. Whenever she moved sideways slightly he saw the erotic edge of one of her twin orbs, chest high, protruding just a little. His fingers twitched and that reminded him to give to the upcoming Chorea sancti viti fund-raising appeal.
His fingers also were prepared to clutch at the back of those muscular thighs and the small hard butt that reminded him of the roasted porker, complete with apple in its mouth, on the table when he had dinner with his parents, Lord and Lady Merrilands, last Christmas.
Once again his wife and children hadn't been invited because the kids couldn't handle an 11-course dinner and his wife had been a Jones (they thought it was an equally common-as-muck Smith). Anyway only his wife snivelled for days about the slight because the kids much preferred playing Punch and Judy with their other grandparents Jill and Jack Jones. Now where was he? Oh yes, Annie held a file in one hand and lifted her skirt with the other to scratch her arse. He saw the flesh above her stockings and felt an erection stirring but these days it took a lot more persuasion to activate the flow-on effect than a bit of arse scratching.
Then he stiffened -- er his entire body stiffened. The girl was holding the missing Alfa Project file.
She stalled.
He sweated.
She scratched.
Then with brilliant thinking she placed the file at the back of the Z drawer. This girl really deserved to get something from him, if only a cash bonus.
The factory hooter went at 4:55. Clem's family company Olsen Engineering International produced horse floats for the British market and exported them to 15 other countries. Clem said to Annie that would be all for today. She appeared disappointed.
"Don't you want a quick feel of my titties?"
Clem who'd been a sucker all his life since puberty for any offer from a whore in keeping with family tradition, smirked and said, "Walk them over here babe."
Bending forward Annie pulled his face in between what was exposed and then eased down her bra so he could chew her nipples.
"That's enough, any more you'll be making me lactate," she giggled. She was smart enough to know there would be more to come tomorrow, probably all over her front.
* * *
Alice Forsythe asked her youngest daughter, "Do you make any progress today in finding a husband?"
"Someone else's husband, yes. I think so. I was ready to give my all to Terrence Holt but when he told me our company made a disposable profit of £29 million pounds ($US56m) last year it was goodbye Terrence and I refocused."
"On Sir Clem?" . "Yes, he owns 15.7% of the family company."
"Marriage?"
"No, I'm just thinking of lining my pockets, so to speak, with gold, jewels, a house and a car and then giving him the push, finding a younger guy."
"Good thinking. That's how I got your father but he only had one gold coin, his grandmother's rings and a 12-year-old car. But we were a good match at fucking and that's the solid foundation for a good marriage."
"I though love was the basis of a good marriage?"
"Love means fucking, dear; so many people confuse the situation by calling fucking love. Both love and fuck are four letter words but the word fuck makes most people run for cover."
Next day it was still dark when the 19-year-old left for work on the 7:35 bus, warm in the thick coat and boots and thinking about old Sir Clem, aged thirty-eight, asking her to bend over so he could chew her pussy before inserting -- fingers, nose, dick; whatever. She found it amazing that he'd be interested in her, barely out of university a year too early and without much experience at sex and whose parent's annual income probably equated with what her balding boss spent on filling the gaps in his wine cellar over a year.
On Monday the office manager Mrs Marks had called for volunteers interested in looking for a missing folder in Sir Clem's office. At that all the other staff scattered, and Annie who was picking her nose, was left alone in front of Mrs Marks.
"Off you go to Sir Clem's office suite dear and look for the missing file. It's 2:15 now so I expect to see you by 2:15 in two days, if not sooner, advising me that you found the file. I regret to say with your small and tight-looking butt you are unlikely to interest Sir Clem sexually. The gentry rather like their women to have big fat butts that give them the familiarity of being seated on a horse. However, if you do find the file he might give you a big one -- perhaps fifty pounds.
Annie, who'd been in despair at finding a way to get into Sir Clem's confidence to slip into his arms to enrich herself, couldn't believe her luck. Any parent who chided a child to stop picking their nose ought to shut her or his mouth and stop manipulating their kid's destiny.
* * *
Sir Clem's ugly American Hummer was parked in front of the main office doors on the no parking stripes, forcing his peasants workers to walk on either side of it. Annie complied with office tradition and took out a coin and added to the scours along the paintwork of the vehicle.
She entered the office suite. Sir Clem strode over with the passion of a man about to mount and join the Hunt and said, "Good morning Annie. May I kiss you?"
She nodded and they kissed. He kissed quite okay really so she condescended and said softly, "Play with my titties if you wish."
He fingered between his collar and tie and swallowed. "No, I'll risk a charge of sexual harassment and ask might I play with you arse?"
"Okay."
As soon as she'd removed her coat, Annie stood bovine-like -- feet braced -- while the big boss squeezed and patted her ass cheeks.
He panted, "There's nothing like a piece of good ass before breakfast."
"Throw out you wife and children and perhaps you could have my arse each morning."
Sir Clem moved back to lean on his desk and looked at Annie thoughtfully.
With the inborn cunning rife amongst peasantry, Annie said nothing, and didn't look at him. She just lifted her mini skirt and rubbed her arse to keep his mind on the subject of adultery that would now be flooding his aged brain.
"Annie, please bend over D drawer. I want to concentrate on thinking about your future that is closely linked with your two lower orifices."
What the hell was he on about? Annie wondered and picked her nose, that action putting an unnecessary load on Sir Clem's brain; he tried to eye both arse and now a very mobile tit.
Sir Clem's erection was at full stretch -- well, within an inch -- and to his astonishment it remained with him all morning. Memories of childhood with his nannies, and then with the guys at college and throughout his twenties came tumbling back to him. So encouraged was he to have a sniff of manhood revisit him that he performed a few strokes and with great fondness thought about rowing in the coxless fours on the Thames when in his prime, the young ladies on the bank in university colours chanting 'Clem, Clem, Clem' in time with their individual favourite stroke which was pretty confusing for the oarsmen.
At 1:00 Sir Clem walked to the executive lunchroom like a kid who'd lost something: as soon as Annie had left his erection turned on him and sulked. Annie went to the Great Hall for the third shift of factory-supplied lunch where wretched looking Dickens-like ladies ladled out swill into plates held up in trembling fingers beneath untrusting mournful eyes.
Actually Annie had a nice piece of steak, served with chips, cabbage and turnip, eating only a couple of mouthfuls of steak and four chips because she had a figure to keep. She was involved in lively conversation about films, sex, latest fashion and the weather while upstairs the conversation over the superb luncheon of a nice piece of steak, served with chips, cabbage and turnip was about the financial markets, cricket, women not being like they used to be in the old days and the weather (the company had no female executives apart from Mrs Marks who couldn't stand conversation about the weather so ate her home-cut sandwiches at her desk).
Late afternoon Annie bent her chilled arse over drawers G and H, knowing the boss had one hand well under his desk and was watching her every move. Annie thought she was such a stupid cow: she'd planned to become Sir Clem's sweet bed buddy and thereby improve his fitness and sense of manliness while he heaped her with wealth but she was without strategy apart from occasionally scratching her ass.
