Chapter 58
March, 1990 -- Julie, Joe's other Mistress
Joe Marcolina swiveled around in his leather chair and looked out the large window at City Hall and the Thalian Hall, which were essentially one and the same structure. He was on the phone, waiting for someone to answer.
"Hello. This is Joe Marcolina, from the Bank of Wilmington. I'm calling for Mr. Lambertson, please."
Joe listened for a moment. "Yes, I understand, but we have deadlines too..."
Joe gave the party on the other end his full attention, scowled and said, "Yes, well, Mr. Lambertson owes me a call. He's applied for a substantial loan..."
He listened some more then interrupted them; "Well I require more than just basic information from him. Can I ask you a question? Yes, about when he plans to begin excavation on the Marquis Mall, about obtaining the required permits... that type information. And I would add that I've attempted to reach him five times, not counting this call."
Joe listened to the other party, frowned then rubbed his nose. As the other party talked, he plucked at a nose hair and held it up to the window examining it.
He laughed into the receiver. "Oh... yes, I know, but just who is Lambertson? Does he even exist? He never answers his phone, or returns my calls."
After a moment of conversation Joe grimaced and said, "Yeah, okay. I'll leave my number. But if I don't hear from him by tomorrow morning, I'm tossing all the paper work on the project in the garbage."
When the other party protested that type action, Joe replied, "That's right. He can find another bank. I don't work with ghosts. Sorry, I didn't mean to bring you into my problem zone. Yeah, thank you. Goodbye."
Joe's phone rang the moment he hung up.
"Hello, Marcolina. Oh, hey, Les, yeah, you too.
"Oh, yeah, I was out there last...Wednesday. Shot a 74. Ha, ha! No, I'm not lying!"
"Joe, you got a minute?"
"For you, Les, I got five!"
"Joe, I'm sure you can understand our need to cut corners around here."
"Oh, sure, times are tight."
"We've got us a problem with Mr. Eddie Jones."
"Jonesie? He's a good man, Jonesie."
"Joe, the dumb bastard has dug himself a great big hole, and quite frankly I don't know what to do about it."
"Go on."
Les took a deep breath and said, "It sorta goes like this, Joe. About four months back, Mr. Jones used the company Visa card to pay for a hooker over in Myrtle Beach."
"Yeah, I remember that. We chewed him out and decided to forget about it. It was what... three hundred?"
"Five hundred, Joe, but you're right; we forgave the incident at the time."
"What did he do, use the card again for another hooker?"
"No, not quite. It was the hooker used the card... well, she used the card numbers, and stayed at the Beachcomber from that night until... let's see, last Thursday. Of course, we just received the Visa Statement this morning."
"Jesus! How much has it cost us?"
"$9600, Joe."
"Christ on a crutch! That's a lot of money."
"Yes Sir, that's a lot of money."
"How much does he make a year?"
"$32,800."
"He can't possibly pay us back. He's got family, and you know how that goes."
"I know, Joe. That's why we're talking."
"Fire him. Give him three weeks notice, or is that too much?"
"No, that's about right. We could go four, but under the circumstances...."
"No, make it four. He's a decent guy, and the girl made a fool out of him... and us. No sense in being cheap about it. Oh, and give him a good reference. He didn't rob us, she did. He just let his dick cloud his brain."
When Les failed to reply, Joe said, "We all right on this, Les?"
"Yes, Sir. I'll get working on his termination right away."
"Don't forget the reference letter; I'll be getting a call or two from prospective employers. I want to tell them he's an all right guy."
"Got'cha, Joe."
"Bye, Les."
Joe glanced at his Rolex, and leaped up, and went to his office door. Julie Markrop looked up from her desk, "Yes, sir?"
"Julie, please see to it that I'm not disturbed for the next ... say forty-five minutes, will you?"
"Yes, Mr. Marcolina. Does that include any calls from Mrs. Marcolina?"
"No calls at all. I need to concentrate for the next hour or so."
He closed the door to his office and sat down, recalling the fantasy-meets-reality that occurred almost daily at this time. The previous week, Joe had happened to hear a conversation as he passed by the partially open door of the break room. He had not dared to look in on them, but stood just outside and listened as "Eve" recounted how her date had shown up with an offering of strawberries and whipped cream; and ended up nibbling the berries out of her pussy and belly-button.
Captivated by the husky, sexy, sound of her low voice, and horny as hell from the details, he'd retreated to his office to let his hard-on subside. When it didn't, he masturbated at work for the first time.
The next day, he had almost forgotten about the two women, only to be jolted into a masturbatory frenzy on discovering he could hear them from the safety of his office.
Thereafter, he made it a point to all but hang out a "Do Not Disturb" sign on his office door. And almost every day thereafter, he was stoking himself one-handed, with either his head or the stethoscope pressed against the wall, where a dark spot was now discernible.
His secretary had received explicit instructions to hold all calls and not interrupt him for any reason at this hour each day. He informed her of his 'special' project, he had many 'special' projects and this wasn't an unusual request for him to make.
He got out some hand lotion and a handkerchief, placing them conveniently close at hand on the desk. The first time he had tried this, he'd blown a load all over the bottom of the desk and the carpet. He'd spent twenty very embarrassed minutes removing all traces so the cleaning staff wouldn't notice the stains; thus, the need for a handkerchief.
Four minutes later his cock kicked with a sudden pulse of blood. He heard the two women giggling and talking quietly. He heard the office door shut behind them. With an urgency that caused him to drop the stethoscope he'd borrowed from a medical friend, and customer.
Cursing silently, Joe very carefully placed the stethoscope against the wall, settled back in his chair with his other hand gripping his erection.
"... couldn't believe it when the phone rang and he insisted I answer! Vinnie was just getting ready to go down on me. Well, I didn't realize it at the time, but the whole thing was planned. Somehow, he and Gerry found out I was seeing both of them, and decided to teach me a lesson!"
"No! What happened? Please! I want all the details!"
There was a crackling noise.
"Do you want my other pop-tart? It's raspberry."
"Yum, my favorite!"
Joe waited impatiently through the sounds of rustling wrappers and soda cans being opened.
"Ahhh, that tastes good!"
Joe heard her put the can down. He was still amazed at the clarity of their voices through the thin wall. He made a mental note to never hold an important conversation in his office. Better to walk in the park across the street.
Joe had christened the one drinking, Eve. He didn't know who this woman was. But her voice made him cum like a hormone enraged teenager every afternoon at four, and this despite his weekly meetings with Bernie, and several times a week with his wife, Val, neither of whom was bad in the sack. He knew that she liked wild sex, Diet Coke, junk food and (now filing it away for future reference) raspberry pop-tarts.
And,