A Simple Business Arrangement

Dr. Dunhaven chuckled amiably at the shared witticism, as he stood, assessing appreciatively, Ms. McCarthy, the receptionist and office manager at this, his Canadian base – this large, up-scale specialists' clinic in Toronto. He was impressed with her – Geraldine – and her vivacious, business-like manner. As office manager, she was very efficient, and virtually ran the shop. At fifty-three, Boswell Dunhaven – pronounced dun-ǝ-vǝn, like Donovan with a 'U', as he was always quick to point out – a consulting neurologist / neuro-surgeon, was a full eighteen years older than Geraldine. Still, he was ever-intrigued by her understated allure, and found himself very attracted to her. He, a high-strung, hyper, type-A personality, who visited the clinic from New York for a few days every 4 to 6 weeks, was always very personable with Geraldine, indeed, made an obvious effort to slow down when he was chatting with her in the front office. With a depth of focus verging on OCD, the good doctor did his best, with Ms. McCarthy, in the unfamiliar waters of social interaction.

Dr. Dunhaven had, from early on, insisted that she call him Boz – "It's 'Boz' to my close friends." Which she found cute. Giving him a thousand-watt smile, she had replied, "And you can call me Geri." From that, in those small ways, they began to cultivate a relationship.

Geri admired and respected Dr. Dunhaven, finding him articulate and intelligent, if rather reserved. Still, it seemed he tried to chat her up whenever he got a moment. As they established something of a friendship – at least it was more than a simple acquaintanceship – Geri could see that Boz had finally begun to relax for a bit, as they enjoyed their little chats.

One day, after many months of brief visits, in the course of a conversation, Boz queried, "You're married, aren't you?"

Surprised by the inquiry Geraldine responded, "Yes. Eight years."

In an apparent non-sequitur, he went on, "I'd like to buy you a drink after work, and make a proposition." Puzzled, her eyebrows rose as she looked into his face for clues. After a moment, he went on, "regarding a simple business arrangement, which I hope you'll consider."

He said, matter-of-factly, that he hoped she'd show up. "I'm staying, as usual, at the Hilton across the street. I'll be waiting in the lounge at five-thirty. I do hope to see you there." Despite her further questioning looks he'd say nothing – gave her absolutely no details – except to pat her on the hand and murmur, with an almost patronizing tease, "Wait until after work." Then he left her to her job.

Geri puzzled over the cryptic invitation all afternoon, until, by quitting time, her curiosity had the better of her. Besides, she rationalized, her husband, Paul, was out of town on one of his very frequent business trips; he was a chief engineer in a successful systems controls tech firm, and spent a lot of time traveling – troubleshooting as well as sales and follow-up. So, after work, Geri wandered into the lounge and found Dr. Dunhaven waiting. He ordered a drink for her, chatting amicably until it arrived. They toasted the day, then, after a pregnant pause, she asked, "So, Boz?"

He leaned toward her conspiratorially and got right to the point. "What I'm looking for," he began nonchalantly, "is a no-strings-attached sexual relationship. And I'd like it to be with you." He said this just as if he were looking for a tennis partner.

Trying, unsuccessfully, to hide her shock, she sputtered, "But, as you are well-aware, I'm married."

"That," he explained, "is a big part of your appeal. Less chance of undue emotional attachment." Boz eyed her silently for a moment, before going on. "I'd be willing to pay you $500 for an after-work romp in my hotel room."

"What? Now?"

"No, next time I'm in town. I always stay in the same room. 2401." He finished his drink and stood up. "Just think about it. Okay?" Then, with a "Good-night," he turned and headed for the elevators.

It was some five weeks later before he was in town again. "Have you given my proposal some thought?" he asked after dispensing with the small talk and greetings.

"Oh yes, I've thought about it," Geri whispered, looking around unnecessarily, to ensure no one was listening. "I'm just not sure how you can discuss it so casually – what you want me to do. To become."

"Well, if you feel like discussing it further, come up to my room after work, for a drink. Just a drink, if that's all you want. You have my word."

As he tipped his head, and turned on his heel, Geri heard herself breathe, "Okay." She knew it was probably a bad idea, but, for some reason, she felt – no, knew she could trust him.

Consequently, shortly after work, she found herself, sitting across from her doctor friend, in his room, drinking from his mini-bar, and discussing everything under the sun – except the elephant in the room – the possibility of their having sex. Eventually, after several drinks, following a brief pause in the conversation, Geri raised her eyebrows and asked, "So...?"

In a low, non-threatening voice, Boz reiterated all he had said earlier, then went quiet, leaving the ball in her court, as it were.

"Oh, what the hell?" she finally conceded, rationalizing to herself that, with Paul being out of town so much, it was highly unlikely that he was remaining a hundred percent faithful. "I mean, at age 43," she argued convincingly to herself, "he is almost always horny. I somehow doubt that he remains completely celibate during his extended business trips." And then to bolster her confidence in her decision, she added, still silently, "Besides, if something were to happen, he'll never find out, anyway." Snapping out of her inner dialogue, Geri rose abruptly from her seat. "Okay, then. Let's get at 'er!"

If he was more than a little amazed at the sudden decision, Boz was very pleased with the outcome, and didn't betray any surprise. He simply stepped forward, gathering Geri into a brief embrace, and murmuring, "Wonderful!" Smoothly, cautiously, he began to undress her, peeling open her blouse and flipping her bra down with a surprisingly delicate touch. He leaned in tentatively and lightly tongued her exposed nipples, each in turn. When she responded by gathering her bosom to make her buds more easily accessible, he took that as a positive sign, and proceeded to suck and lick her breasts in earnest. Shimmying her shoulders, Geri shook her blouse loose down her arms, then pulled her arms free of her bra, before wrapping her arms around his head, and holding him gently at her breasts.

With an unhurried, almost laconic gentleness, Boz's hands dropped to loosen her skirt-waist. Geri assisted his efforts by wriggling her hips, purring from his continuing lingual attention at her tits. As she shook her skirt off over her knees to puddle at her ankles, Boz's hand returned to her waist to gradually, delicately pull her panties down off her bum. At that, he began to draw his tongue into her cleavage, between her breasts, down off her chest, across her tummy, and into the trimmed forest standing guard above her sacred grotto. Holding still, his nose in her bush, he inhaled deeply, savouring her redolence, while his hands crept back up her body to fasten onto her nipples once more. After a moment of anticipatory silence, Boz began stroking his tongue the length of her nether lips, lapping up the gathering moisture. Feathering the tip of his talented tongue the length of her blossoming pussy several times, he paused once again, before commencing to poke and swirl around Geri's stiffening clitoris.

She felt her herself jolt, her spine vibrating as a burning heat crept outward from her very core. Her chest heaving, her head thrown back, Geri fought to retain control. But the crackling, sparkling stimulation grew inexorably, threatening to overwhelm her senses completely. Slowly, her focus narrowed, blotting out everything but the tongue splitting her labia and stroking across her clitoris, and the fingers that persistently tweaked and twiddled her sensitive nipples.

Still, the onset of her first orgasm truly surprised her. Her quivering legs, slowly transforming into rubber, could no longer support her. As she began to collapse, in slow motion, Boz backed her to the edge of the bed then eased her down to sitting. Smoothly, Boz moved between her knees, his hands resting on her shoulders, his crotch in front of her face, waiting patiently for her to recover. Gathering herself slowly, indeed, emerging from a trance, Geri raised her eyes for a moment, to meet Boz's, before lowering them as she lifted her hands to fumble with his trousers.

Geri worked at Boz's fly front with increasing eagerness, until she revealed his member. It flopped out, limply hanging like a large moray eel, poised at the mouth of a crevice, waiting for passing prey; then, it visibly began to thicken and stiffen, even as she watched. This cock was, by and far, the largest Geri had ever seen. Even semi-turgid it hung out from his body, and bobbed. As she watched – stared – while pushing his trousers down over his knees, it rose and stiffened until it stood out, stiff and bouncing at about 60 degrees – "Eight?" she wondered, "nine? ten, maybe, inches." It was, in any case, a very impressive woodie!

Geri was not big on giving head – never had been; but his rising truncheon virtually begged for attention. She felt compelled to taste it. With a sultriness she wouldn't ever have recognized in herself, she leaned in to brush the serpent with her open mouth. Lips following tongue up and down the sides and top, she established a sensuous rhythm. Notwithstanding, it wasn't long before she pulled back and paused, briefly, to study the beast, then, rounding her lips into a perfect 'O', she slipped her glistening mouth over the plum, and pushed gently onto his erection.

She felt the veined surface ripple over her lips and along the inside of her mouth, almost tickling her. Her sensitive mouth immediately detected the telltale signs of arousal: rising temperature, vibration, twitching, increasing stiffness. Growing impatient on its own accord, the rampant cock began to thrust itself roughly, convulsively into Geri's mouth, smacking hard against her lips. Finally, Boz announced that he was getting dangerously close to cumming – that if she didn't stop he would lose it. In response, Geri redoubled her efforts.

Boz came noisily, filling her mouth with his cum, causing her to gag and cough, and pull back to catch a breath, before pushing herself back onto his juddering cock with an unfamiliar urgency. As Boz's tool began to deflate, Geri busied herself sucking and licking his spilt offering. The effect was, of course, that he began to rise once again.

"I want to feel the inside of your pussy, too," he murmured, almost pleadingly, as he leaned down to kiss the top of her head. Without uttering another word, they moved to missionary position. Geri lying back and shuffling up the bed as Boz kicked off his pants and briefs, and crawled up over her.

Geri had grave concerns about his size, and protested and complained as he placed himself firmly against her opening. However, her wet and puffy labia parted easily, opening up like the Red Sea before Moses, swallowing his impatient manhood whole; and the instant his cockhead was fully inserted the complaints transformed into the whimpered sighs of arousal. As clichéd as it sounds, he was soon touching, in his inexorable push, erogenous places she didn't even know she had.

Breaking his ingress for a beat, Boz withdrew slightly before pushing in again, setting a very subtle push-and-pull rhythm as he reached very slowly further into Geri's now-welcoming vagina. Her arousal unexpectedly spiked. She came again, suddenly exploding in a wild frenzy of bucking and twisting, thrusting her hips convulsively against him, as a keening wail rose from her chest.

Letting her catch her breath, for a moment, and recapture her reality, Boz rolled off her, onto his back on the bed beside her. Having not yet come himself, this time around, his erection stood up proud, vibrating from time to time. Geri gave it a few affectionate strokes, noting that her hand could not quite close around it, before she, with a mixture of hunger and trepidation, swung her leg across Boz's supine body, and rising as high on her knees as she could get, positioned her dripping pussy directly above him.

Carefully lowering herself onto the proffered cock, Geri was struck by such an intensity of sensation that she completely lost control; She began bouncing up and down wildly, as wave after wave of orgasmic pleasure washed over her, sweeping away her awareness, and leaving in its place a sparkling field of pure ecstasy. In the midst of this climax – perhaps among her many climaxes, she felt Boz thrust up into her with extra gusto, if that were possible. She even felt, at the edges of her awareness, the spurting of his semen, as he came deep within her quivering womb. Geri continued to bounce feverishly until all of her energy reserves were gone. Then she collapsed, a sticky, panting, quivering mass onto his chest, and into his arms.

They lay there, for a long time – motionless, except for the gentle quakes that rippled, on occasion, across one of them and into the other. It was amazing! That afternoon, in two hours, he got it up and came in her four times – and each time he'd given her multiple climaxes – and they were powerful orgasms. Geri was embarrassed by her complete loss of control, but, at the same time, she was pleased with the intensity of her response – and the response she'd imbued in her partner; furthermore, she was proud of the fact that she could take and handle his enormous penis, without undue difficulty or pain. In her reverie, she tried not to compare Boz to Paul, her husband, but the truth was that Paul rarely came more than once per session, and even more rarely gave her more than one orgasm.

As afternoon faded into evening, Geri was reluctant to go home to an empty house, as Paul was out of town – again. Still, she felt that she was already poised at the edge of a slippery slope and she didn't want to get in too deep too fast.

Furthermore, there was the money to consider – the $500 which she had collected right up front. "Isn't that the way the pros do it?" she'd thought at the time. "So, what does that make me?" Geri mused in retrospect. She certainly had a lot to think about.

Although she was still glowing and tingling, she worried, also, that her hubby would notice that she was loose and stretched when he got home – two days hence.

The next day, her husband still being away, there was time for much protest and regret. When they got a private moment at the office, Geri told Boz, in a tone that brooked no discussion, that they had to talk. "Meet me in the lounge of your hotel, right after work."

Boz was already seated when she got there, and summoned the waitress to order drinks. They made inane small-talk until their beverages arrived, then Boz said, not beating around the bush in response to Geri's impenetrable look, "Is there a problem?"

"You've made me a prostitute!"

"No, no," he smiled beneficently, "More a very exclusive call girl."

"That's just a euphemism for an up-scale whore!" The harsh truth was, she admitted to herself, that what she'd done was, indeed, simply prostitution. Still, even in that cold light, she couldn't actually think of herself as a whore. She was not a slut or a slattern, she told herself; she was more like a geisha – whose role it is to provide comfort and relaxation and release to her clients – or, in this case, her client. Perhaps she could live with that.

Boz said he'd rather think of it as a friends-with-benefits relationship – the money being more of an honorarium. Then he went on to answer an unasked question; explaining why he preferred her over a professional. "I could, I suppose, simply hire a call-girl – a professional escort, as they say. I have, in the past, but..." Here, he stopped, and looked her in the eyes. Geri thought she could detect a true affection, glittering in his vivid blues. "But," he went on, "it's so much more satisfying having sex with someone you know and like, than with a stranger, no matter who she might be. It's more personal, more like making love." He shrugged, before adding, "And I dare say it's safer."

Geri admitted that she enjoyed his company, and was thrilled by the naughtiness. But, keeping it all a business arrangement, meant that the personal aspect stayed at arms-length; it, if not precluded, then discouraged any silly eventualities, such as falling 'in love'. "And," she added, silently, to herself, "the cash won't go amiss, either." Notwithstanding, she was very non-committal about any further trysts. The next couple days at the clinic, before Boz returned home, Geri eyed him self-consciously, but barely spoke beyond simple greetings. For his part, Boz respected her reticence.

Meanwhile, at home, after work, she was tense and uneasy. For while she thought she'd physically recovered, she couldn't relax as she and hubby made love the next few times following his return, calming, eventually, when he made no mention of feeling any difference in her.

The next time Geri saw Boz, the following month, they chatted as usual – not addressing the elephant in the room, until, late in the afternoon, as he left the reception area for his final consultation. Stopping briefly before her desk, Boz nodded and asked quietly, "After work?"

She smiled, nonchalantly, and murmured, "We'll see."

Her quiet response belied the sudden excitement that sparked inside her. Visions of their sex the previous month sent shivers down her back. Memories of the tremendous orgasms warmed her gut and tingled her brain. During the rest of her shift, she actually caught herself zoning out, a goofy smile – an anticipatory grin – playing across her lips. No, there was really no question.

Boz answered the door of his suite wearing a hotel robe over his undershirt and trousers. Geri had shed much of her clothing by the time she'd reached the bed, and was tearing at his pants as she flopped, giggling, onto the mattress.

It was much the same as last time – active, energetic sex – just as thrilling, just as novel. In some alcove of her mind, she vaguely, silently debated the morality and propriety of what she was doing, but ultimately allowed herself to be convinced that it wasn't really the same as having an affair; it was simply a business arrangement – she was just moonlighting – working a second, part-time job, that she enjoyed, and, as it turned out, she was very good at. Indeed, they rendezvoused a second time later that same week.

This time, however, she took no chances regarding her recovery time, and used Preparation-H to shrink and tighten her distended, puffy vagina, before going home to Paul. From then on, it became a more or less regular affair – an ongoing arrangement – once a month or so. Geri made up cover stories and explanations for when her husband was not travelling, and things progressed smoothly. In fact, a routine quickly developed: they started off each rendezvous with a drink, and a room-service meal – ostensibly to legitimize the trysts, but, more aptly, to quell the initial urgency.

So it was that, on subsequent assignations, once the dinner meeting aspect of the evening was concluded, at some non-verbal signal, they surrendered themselves to the vibrant lust that filled the room, undressing one another with all the fervor of their very first time.

Geri continued to be astonished by the orgasmic pinnacles they achieved – the peaks they surmounted – levels of arousal she'd never before experienced. Subconsciously, she wondered if she was becoming obsessed with the heights to which he'd taken her; to which he took her repeatedly. Although she refused to entertain the thought that she was in danger of becoming addicted, deep down she suspected she might be.