I enter my office about twenty past three. Vanessa is not there, neither is she in the bathroom or the small bedroom adjoining my work space. But at least she has made fresh coffee.
Undoubtedly you're asking yourself how an office worker can afford a bedroom behind his desk. And no, I'm not the kind of work-alcoholic who sleeps at his office. The answer is much more mundane.
Let me explain.
Although I am the mayor shareholder of this company, I'm not its CEO. Instead I've hired a very competent person to do this job. I'm only the simple heir of a rather enormous fortune, amassed by my grandfather and father. To be honest, I've no talent at all for trade or business. An army of advisors and specialists are taking care of these matters for me. Fortunately, at least as far as I know, I have very reliable employees. Because I'm a loyal and generous person, I'm also a very sought-after employer who can afford recruiting only the most talented and motivated.
Because I hate living in idleness, I've appointed myself as director of human resources and general counselor. The function of course is a sham. The real work is done by competent persons. But at least I'm living in the illusion of doing something useful. Now and then I'm asked to sign some papers or to give my advice about this or that, but this is a purely ceremonial affair.
I'm forty-three years old, already twenty years able to make a big party of his life. In my social circle I'm considered a lunatic for refusing to do this. In fact I like to live as simple as possible.
****
Vanessa comes in a couple of minutes after me.
She's an extremely attractive thirty years old lady of Congolese origin. For already more than seven years she's not only my secretary, but also my lover and confidante. She's the only person on this planet who knows everything I think, hope, feel or fear, every motion of my soul in short.
How I met her, I'm a little embarrassed to tell. It's really something out of a movie.
Judge for yourself...
One evening my chauffeur was driving me around in the red-light district. We saw a young, black hooker crossing the street, screaming and terrified, imploring help from bystanders who ignored her, chased by three sinister looking men. In a fit of insanity, I ordered my driver to stop and pulled her aboard. One of the men took out a handgun and fired at the car, while we sped away.
It turned out she was an illegal alien, forced into prostitution by a sex slave ring after they smuggled her into the country with the promise of a nice and cozy job. Well, really the old story we all know. She had no papers, no place to stay, no property, just the scarce clothes on her back. She managed to escape from the room she was held and planned to go to the police. The men who pursued her were supposed to guard her. She had to fight one of them to get out of the house. In the process she had received a couple of stab wounds and five teeth had been knocked out of her mouth.
I took her with me to my house and called a doctor. Later I even paid for the implants, it turned out seven more teeth were beyond repair, and also for the plastic surgery she needed. While she was a protected witness in an investigation to bust the sex slave ring, I hired the best lawyer around to legalize her stay in the country. When all of this was over, I let her stay in a small apartment next to my penthouse.
Looking back I'm amazed about what I've done. I even don't know why. Maybe it was out of some guilt feeling about al that money that had rained out of the sky like manna for me. Now and then this creeps upon me. Another reason is that I had terminated only days before a traumatic relationship with my English girlfriend Lauren. But above all I can't resist dependent woman owing me enough to stay dependent on me. On that account I'm a very conservative male pig.
Vanessa compensated me partially by keeping my house. After a short while she started to sleep with me. She was an enthusiastic and very submissive bed partner. Never had she refused me something, no matter how extravagant my demands were. Later she started as a cleaner in the office. She wanted to earn her keep with me, she said. After I discovered that she was a rather smart lady, even with only little formal education, good at organizing and planning, I asked her to become my personal secretary. In her spare time she took computer and administration courses, surprising me what a fast learner she was. It was my turn to become dependent on her. I'm not doing something without her advice anymore.
At various occasions I've asked her to marry me, only to be turned down in her friendly but firm manner. Her refusal baffles my understanding, but that doesn't stop me asking it again.
****
I smile when I see her. She's the balm on a boring and monotonous day. After all this years she's still the candy my eyes are hooked on. My ebony beauty is five feet tall, perky, perfect tear shaped breasts, the nicest heart shaped ass, and a belly flat as a pool table. She has curly hair reaching just beyond her shoulders, the most sensuous lips and big, dark-brown eyes. They're the one thing that drives me crazy about her.
Vanessa smiles back, kisses me through the air and puts the folder she has in her hands on my desk.
"The agendum for the general assembly of the shareholders. You need to look at it," she says.
I moan.
"It doesn't get any better," she pursues, "The meeting is advanced to Thursday next week."
The general assembly of the shareholders is the only time of the year I'm the chairman and overseer of proceedings, sometimes for four to five agonizing long hours. Then follows the obligate reception and diner party with people I'm absolutely not interested in talking with.
God, I hate this.
Vanessa laughs when she sees my face.
"I will take good care of you when it's over," she promises.
"You might as well do this now," I grunt.
I push the button that locks the double door of the office.
"Let's play a game," I grin, "I'm Bill and you're Monica, only you take care your dress is not stained."
"That's already two or three presidents ago. Can't you imagine another game?" she asks, while she unbuttons the vest of her lady's suit and pulls her blouse out of her skirt.
I also start to undress myself.
"Do you want to do it here or in bed?"
My finger indicates the carpet before my desk.
A moment later she stands only in her expensive underwear, a wine-colored string and fitting bra. Only when I move from behind my desk, she reaches skillfully behind her back and throws the garment away. She sticks out her tongue at me, seizes her breasts and pushes them up. Her sensitive nipples become stiff and are pointing as little fingers towards the ceiling. Swaying her hips, she steps out of her sting very slowly. At last she's naked. Her pussy is completely bald, what makes I have a good view of her thick, slightly protruding vaginal lips and the pink button of her clitoris. She turns her back to me. Now I can feast my eyes on the best part of her anatomy, her big godly heart-shaped ass, smooth as black silk. Then she pulls both her ass cheeks apart for a second, giving me a glimpse of the black ring of her delicious anus I licked, fingered and fucked so many times with endless pleasure.
My cock is stiff as a rock now. I walk to her and kiss her lightly on the lips. Smiling she unfastens my belt. In the same movement she pulls my trousers down and kneels.
"I'm just a simple trainee sir, and I want very good grades," She says with a childish accent and a comical look at her face.
She pinches my testicles and goes slowly with her hand up and down the rigid seven inches of my member. She pushes my Calvin Klein to my ankles. My cock is freed and slaps against her cheek. She opens her lips and travels with her tongue along the border of my gland. She takes me into her mouth and starts to suck slowly. Slurping sounds are filling the room.
"This is just the likes of you aren't it, earning your grades as a cocksucker?" I ask her.
She plants her big, dark eyes into mine. While her gaze holds me captive, she sucks me harder and more intense. Her lips touch my pubic hair. Small shocks travel through my pulsating organ. I will not last long. She feels my orgasm coming and she starts to knead and caress my scrotum. Her head bobs faster up and down. I feel the sperm travel up. I moan and groan while I squirt her waiting mouth full.
"Swallow it all like a big girl," I command.
Her left hand squeezes my testicles, her other hand kneads my softening prick, coaxing the last drop out.
"On your hands and knees sweetie," I tell her.
Vanessa complies. I post myself behind her exquisite ass. I pull the cheeks apart, admiring her moist, slightly open anus. I smell the bitter and sweet aroma and stick my tongue out.
Then one of the two phones on my desk starts ringing.
Vanessa crawls to the desk and picks the horn up, still kneeling down. She listens for a moment and presses the horn against her belly.
"It's a woman... You take it?"
"Who is it?"
Vanessa asks who she has the honor speaking with. Smirking she looks back at me.
"She won't tell me her name. But I recognize the voice from somewhere."
"I'm not taking calls from unknowns," I state.
I'm shedding the rest of my clothes off, some buttfucking is on my mind.
"She's calling your secret number. You must know her very well," Vanessa states in a sharper voice than I'm used from her.
With what seems like a flint of jealousy in her eyes, she pushes the phone horn in my hands.
"Hello?" I ask reluctantly.
I recognize the quiet and shy voice at once.
"Hello... Daddy?"
"Don't call me with that name ever again," I hiss, "You know damn well I'm not your father."
It's Sybil, the girl a thought was my daughter until some years ago. Lauren, her mother and former lover of mine, insisted in her having her family name. But I planned to recognize her legally as my own daughter when she was eighteen, so she could be made the sole inheritor of my fortune. But then my relationship with Lauren broke up. The bitch went to the judge with the results of a DNA-test, supposed to prove that Sybil could in no way be my biological daughter. She asked also to deny me of custody. The judge complied. It's never been clear to me why Lauren had taken this step. I think she wanted to destroy the strong bond between Sybil and me. Lauren has always been very jealous of that. She hated also her daughter because of her beauty. Such a sick bitch is Lauren.
All you can say is that she succeeded. Angry and disappointed I broke all connections with Sybil. This is the first contact in more than five years. I know I have done the girl, who must be nineteen by now, a lot of grief. I wanted revenge and I took revenge on an innocent being. I'm not proud about it. But I'm also someone who's to proud to admit his wrongness. The situation between us has therefore always remained extremely troubled.
On the other side of the line reigns silence for a long time. Then I hear something like a sob.
"I want to talk to you," Sybil says.
"You're already doing that."
She starts crying for real and I feel guilty.
"I'm sorry, please forgive me," I implore her, something I say only very infrequently, " Call me Robert, like everybody else... I lost in you a daughter, and you know what a blow this was to me."
"Mother has thrown me out. She said I had to return to you."
"What's has happened? You two had a row?" I'm trying to sound empathic.
