Melissa Smith Jones Ch 05

Chapter Four ended up with Melissa devastated when Nigel left with her English colleague and friend Sylvia. Following some offhand remark Sylvia once made Melissa decided to drown her sorrows with gratuitous sex with Stan and Jules, the two men she met from the airplane between London and New York. We join Melissa as she wakes up in a hotel bedroom somewhere in Manhattan.

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I was the first to wake up the next morning. I was in an unknown bed in a nondescript New York hotel, and not a particularly nice hotel at that. The bed sunk in the middle where I was, so the two men naturally rolled into my body as the night went on. I idly wondered how many women had given themselves to men on this very bed over the years? Well, add one more to what had to be a sizeable total.

My body was a mess and my nether regions ached. I noticed that since I was in the middle of the bed there was a fee-fi-fo-fum bloody Englishman on either side of me.

Blinking away my typical early morning fuzz, I remembered the two men were Stan and Jules, and yes, I had had sex with both of them. It was kind of like shampooing one's hair. Fuck, rest, repeat. I was pretty damn active last night. Well, at least I got that out of my system.

Sylvia and I had told Nigel he had to choose and he had three days to decide between Sylvia and me. He could fuck us all he wanted during those three days, but then he had to choose. I don't know if he accepted that, or believed that even, but Geoff, Jane, Sylvia, Nigel and I had gone to dinner. Geoff took Jane home of course, and it was decision time for Nigel. He chose Sylvia for his first romp, thereby destroying my soul.

Meantime I was lying there naked, in between the two nice random men Sylvia and I had picked up from the airplane. Worse, I had submissively let them fuck the bejesus out of me the night before. They both enjoyed my pussy, Stan had me give him a blowjob, and Jules had enjoyed my ass. Now I had to get out of bed without waking them.

Stan had me pinned to the mattress with his arm right over my boobs. Jules had his leg over one of mine, thereby keeping my legs apart. The maneuvers were delicate, but I managed to become unpinned and un-entwined, and I slithered straight down and off the bed. I left the two sleeping beauties there and went to the bathroom.

I had nothing. All my toiletries and spare clothes were in my suitcases which were at home, where Nigel was presumably giving Sylvia a good morning fuck. I had a tiny bar of crappy hotel soap, and tiny vial of equally crappy hotel shampoo. Nice hotels give out nice shampoo. Crappy hotels give out crappy shampoo. It's all just chemistry anyway, and it will do the job. I nevertheless passed on washing my hair.

I took a nice long, hot shower washing all the men's cum and cooties from my body. I had to get away from there; I had some serious thinking to do. I dried off and slipped on my yellow dress. I did not even have a bra nor panties, nor a brush for my hair, nor make-up or lipstick, so dressing was fast and easy. I did not look my best.

I looked in the mirror. I looked fucked. Literally. I looked as if someone (or more accurately someones) had fucked me to New Haven and back. I slipped out of the room without waking my two newest lovers and I checked my phone. I had ten unread messages. Six from Jane, three from Sylvia, and one from Nigel.

I sent a text to work announcing I would be late and I headed to Saks Fifth Avenue. I had myself made up at the Chanel stand and I bought a lipstick and some rouge in exchange. I also got a spray bottle of Chanel No. 5. I went to the ladies' room and applied it in all the usual places including under my boobs.

I went to a hair salon and had my hair washed, combed out, and brushed nicely. Michelle was my hairdresser. She gives the best head massage in New York while she washes a girl's hair.

"Rough night?" Michelle asked.

"Yes," I replied. "Why do you ask?"

"You've got some dried up sticky stuff in your hair. Don't worry, I can get it out. If I didn't know better, I'd say it was...uh..."

"Dried up cum?" I helped her out.

She just looked at me. Her expression was worth the cost of the hair wash and blow dry.

"You should have seen the rest of my body before I showered," I said.

Michelle giggled nervously. She washed my hair with a nice shampoo. I really enjoyed the head massage I got while she washed my hair. This is the good life, I thought. She got the dried cum out of my hair, too, thank goodness.

I went to Zara and bought some clothes suitable for work and wore them out of the store. I still needed to get a bra and panties. That could wait. I went to a nice coffee shop not too far away and got a small breakfast and the one essential in my life: good coffee. Ah, the coffee felt good.

I read Jane's texts first. She had heard Nigel went home with Sylvia and was frantically trying to reach me to keep me from going off the deep end. I idly thought: which was deeper, the Hudson or the East River? Jane is such a good friend.

I read Sylvia's texts. She was trying to be sweet in her victory, reassuring me, and hoping I was okay, but the insincerity of her texts shone through. Still, I appreciated her effort. In her place, I would have done exactly the same thing. I was thinking: She had fucked Nigel in my own bed. I felt nauseated.

I could not bring myself to read Nigel's text. I got a coffee refill. I sat in that coffee shop a long time. I had a lot to work out in my head. I tried to decide, as a distraction, who was better in bed. Was it Stan, or was in Jules? Stan had the bigger cock, but Jules had exquisite technique. Stan had great abs, but Jules had muscular, strong legs. Both men were a little inadequate in the chest hair department. They both had hopelessly sexy English accents.

Which man had enjoyed fucking me more? That was easy. It was Jules. I had the feeling Stan was wishing I were Sylvia and even pretending I actually was Sylvia. I decided nobody needed to know how I had freaked out and let two quasi-random men from the airplane fuck me half the night. If I told even one of Sylvia, Jane, or Geoff, they would all instantly know and shortly thereafter so too would Nigel. Possibly even the 214 million Facebook users in the US would all know, too!

Nigel, just like the act of reading his text, could wait. Right now, I had to pull myself together and face work. I would be seeing Sylvia, knowing she had spent the night and morning in bed with my true love Nigel. There was also the issue of Mr. Sarrasin, since Mr. Rogers in London had probably told him how easily he had been able to seduce me and to fuck me silly. Mr. Sarrasin might get jealous and want similar treatment from yours truly. I hoped not! I was all fucked out.

There was a woman at the table next to me in the coffee shop. I leaned over and asked her if I could ask a favor? She looked suspicious (this is New York) but she sized me up and said okay. I gave her my phone and asked her to read Nigel's text silently for me, because I was afraid to read it. The woman understood, thank goodness, and there was no need for me to explain myself. She read Nigel's text. She asked if I were okay?

"I'm doing okay right now, but only barely," I told her. "I have to go to work and last through the day. Do you think I can handle reading the text and still go to work?"

"I'm not sure. I don't really know you, so I don't know what would upset you," she replied.

"Breaking up with me by text would upset me," I said.

"Then you're in the clear. It's a loving text, a little off color. The man likes sex, I assume," she said.

I smiled. She smiled back. I thanked her profusely, and we exchanged names and addresses. I gathered my wits, screwed my courage to the sticking place, and headed off to work. I texted Sylvia I was on my way to work and proposed meeting her somewhere so we could enter the building together.

We met at the Starbucks on the corner. In midtown New York there is always a Starbucks on the corner. I got there first and I watched her enter nervously. I knew she had been well fucked, and she looked it, too. Only another woman can tell. Of course I too had been well fucked, but by our airplane lovers with English accents, not by the man I love.

I waved to Sylvia, using my best false smile, and she smiled back in return. She picked up a tea (who gets tea in Starbucks? Only the British I suppose) and came to my table. "How was last night?" I asked, immediately addressing the elephant in our lives.

"Do you really want to know?" she asked.

"No," I said.

"Nigel sent you a text," Sylvia said.

"I know. I got it but I have not read it yet. Maybe I'll read it later, when I'm stronger," I said.

"Maybe our plan of having him choose one of us this way is not optimal?" she said.

"There is no good solution. This is as good as any," I said.

"Where did you sleep last night? Nobody seems to know," Sylvia said.

"Around," I said vaguely, chuckling to myself at my double entendre. Nobody had to know I had group sex after Nigel chose Sylvia, least of all Nigel and Sylvia!

"Well, you get him tonight," Sylvia said.

"I know," I said. "Let's go to work."

Sylvia and I tried hard to put Nigel out of our minds so we could work together, and we largely succeeded. At one point in the late afternoon a messenger girl came to my office to say Mr. Sarrasin would like to see us both. I knew that would happen. He needed to greet Sylvia first of all, and then there would be that wild card of what, if anything, had Mr. Rogers told him?

It occurred to me belatedly that I had never gone to a lingerie store and I was without a bra and without panties. Damn it! I told Sylvia I had to run out for a minute and I quickly went and got both a bra and panties. I paid extra and got a nice underwire lace bra and matching lace panties.

The brand was La Perla, an Italian brand, and it cost a pretty penny. But I only have two breasts and one pussy so WTF I might as well buy quality. The bra made my boobs look spectacular. The panties were sexy. I got massively checked out just walking back from the store to my building.

I picked up Sylvia and we headed to Mr. Sarrasin's office, and he was waiting for us. "Hello Melissa," he said. "This must be Ms. Williams. I have heard much about you. Mr. Rogers has told me of your talents."

Sylvia looked at me. We both knew he meant her blowjobs.

Mr. Sarrasin added, "He also told me he was quite impressed with you, Melissa."

Sylvia smirked at me. We also knew that meant Rogers had told Mr. Sarrasin he had fucked me.

"He assured me we here in New York would also enjoy these talents, of course," Mr. Sarrasin added. "Melissa, I would like to speak to Ms. Williams alone, please."

I exchanged looks with Sylvia one last time, and left Mr. Sarrasin's office, waiting in the anteroom with his secretary, a lovely and comely woman I knew as Olivia.

Twenty minutes later Sylvia emerged from Sarrasin's office. Her lipstick was smeared, her hair was a mess, and she was wiping her lips. "I need a drink," she said.

Olivia piped up that the boss wanted to see me too, in around a half hour to 45 minutes. "I guess he needs some time to recover," Sylvia said. "I have significant oral talent." Olivia giggled knowingly. I guessed Mr. Sarrasin enjoyed her charms too, probably on a regular basis.

"I guess you do," I said.

"You know what he'll want from you, right?" Sylvia said.

"Let's go get you a drink. There's an Irish style pub just a block from here," I replied.

Sylvia had a stout and I had a rum and Coke. I gave Sylvia a sip of my drink.

"You know, Melissa, you're right. Coke does help change the cum taste in a girl's mouth. When in America, do as the Americans do, right?" Sylvia said.

After the rum and coke, I just drank straight rum. I knew what was coming with Mr. Sarrasin, and I needed some liquid courage to deal with it.

When I entered Mr. Sarrasin's office he was all smiles. "As you know Melissa I was a little worried your sartorial habits might make us look bad over in England, but I heard from Jim Rogers that you were perfect. Thank you for making me proud."

I smiled nervously.

"The work you and Ms. Williams did is truly outstanding. What you did in a week would take normal people at least a year. Jim recommends we give both you and Ms. Williams a raise," Mr. Sarrasin said.

"That would be wonderful, Sir. I may have some extra expenses soon. I'm thinking of moving to a nicer apartment," I said. I still had my own apartment in the Bronx, even if I had moved in with Nigel. If he chose Sylvia, though, as seemed likely, I'd be moving out and I could not face going back to my Bronx postage stamp of an apartment with my tail between my legs.

"It seems as if everything is working out. You know, Jim told me he checked to see if you were wearing panties," Mr. Sarrasin said.

"Yes. He was very thorough," I said, a bit sarcastically.

"Are you wearing them now?" he asked.

"Yes. Yes, I am. They're nice ones, too, Mr. Sarrasin," I said.

"Call me Frank. Lift up your skirt and show me your panties, please," he said.

"I'd prefer not to," I said.

"You're not wearing any, are you?"

"Yes, yes I am. I told you I was," I said.

"Well then, show me. Given your history Melissa you know it's prudent for me to check," he said.

I sighed. I quickly lifted my skirt to show him my panties and then I let it drop just as quickly.

"Remember when you were not wearing panties and you lifted your skirt for me?" he asked. I nodded. "I'd like you to do that again." I nodded.

I slipped off my fancy new panties and I raised my skirt. I showed Mr. Sarrasin my pussy and my ass. "Have you humiliated me enough yet, Mr. Sarrasin?" I asked.

"Melissa, you have me wrong. Your body is a paragon of beauty. I find it inspirational," he said.

"I can see that," I said, as I looked at the quite large bulge in his pants.

"Melissa, this is an unusual request and you should feel free to say no, but I'd like to see your nude body. I'm thinking of a bigger raise even than Frank recommended," he said.

"You want me to flash you for a nice raise?" I said. I wished I were wearing a wire!

"Yes. Not so much flash. I want to let your naked body make my eyes dance," he said. I imagined his eyes doing the jitterbug.

"Okay, but no touching," I said. I slowly removed all of my clothes. I brazenly stood in front of him, stark naked.

Mr. Sarrasin came over to me, took my hand, and he pulled my body against his and he kissed me. I had never kissed a boss before. I had not even kissed Mr. Rogers back in London. I had fucked him but we had not kissed, neither before nor after. How strange, I thought.

A good kiss is a wonderful, sexy thing. Mr. Sarrasin's kisses were even better than 'good.' I melted. My naked body fell against his clothed body. I could smell his after shave. It smelled good. His hands caressed my boobs. His hands were gentle, erotic. He tweaked my nipples perfectly. Not so hard as to be hurtful but just hard enough to feel intense.

Mr. Sarrasin stepped away from me. He undressed amazingly fast and he led me over to his couch. We sat on it and continued to kiss.

"Is this what you do with all the girls to whom you give a raise? Have them strip naked and kiss them?" I asked. "This had better be a damn good raise."

"Spread your legs my pretty one and it will be," he said.

The blatant way he was turning me into a whore, 'sleeping' with the boss for a raise, really turned me on. It should have grossed me out. It was grounds for Mr. Sarrasin himself to be fired. You can't do things like that anymore. Yet here I was naked with him and hopelessly aroused. I wanted it as much as he did, maybe more. My pussy was wet. Probably it was very wet. Maybe it was even soaking wet.

I lay down on the couch but with my legs together. He stood, towering over me. He towers over me even when we're both standing, since I am a "petite" woman. Hell, if it were not for my large boobs, I could shop for clothes in the pre-teen section. I actually do shop there since I can find much shorter skirts in the pre-teen section. My hips are sometimes a problem, but not always.

Just then however clothes were irrelevant. We were both as naked as the days we were born, assuming Mr. Sarrasin was born wearing dress shoes, a reasonable assumption if you know Mr. Sarrasin. And I'm willing to bet too that he was not born with such a large and throbbing erection, hee hee.

I had become giddy. I was realizing there were aspects to my sexual personality that I was still discovering. I had enjoyed bondage with Mike and a little with Nigel much more than I had thought I would/ Being extorted for sex by my two bosses, first by Mr. Rogers in London, and now by Mr. Sarrasin in New York, I was finding to be arousing in the extreme.

This was not normal. Most girls would be grossed out, nauseated, and psychically scarred for a long time, possibly for life. I had of course read all about the entire #MeToo movement. I felt as if I were betraying my sex just by lying there, waiting in eager anticipation for the next move. Yet, nevertheless, here we were. Mr. Sarrasin was extorting the most intimate possible sex from me, and I was there lying on the couch, nude, happily waiting for it.

I was at least careful to maintain a mien of disgust, reluctance, and being forced into sex. I had to do that for my self-respect. Besides, it would not have been nearly as erotic if I had just said, "Sure, I'd love to fuck you," to my boss. He too was enjoying the extortion of sex aspects, I'm sure.

That's why my legs were closed. I was not going to let this be too easy for Mr. Sarrasin. He smiled at me as I stared at his long cock, trying to look scared or nervous at the very least.

"How much of a raise?" I asked. This underlined the whorish aspect of the whole affair, and made my spine shiver as I said this.

"Jim suggested a 2% raise. I'll up it to 3%," Sarrasin said.

"No deal. 5% for me, and 5% for Sylvia, or I'm out of here, and you can keep my clothes," I said.

"You'd leave naked? I don't believe you!" he said.

"Watch me. I'll march out right in front of Olivia and Sylvia and then everyone else as I walk naked to the street. Everyone will know your cheap and tawdry antics, Frank," I said, calling him Frank for the first time.

This enraged Mr. Sarrasin. His whole demeanor changed. The expression on his face put the fear of God in me. He picked me up off the couch as if I were just another couch pillow. He bent me over the side of the couch so that my pussy was exposed. It was a similar position to what Mr. Rogers had used in London and he roughly spread my legs. This all took place in around two seconds.

He plunged into me with the force of a battering ram. It would have hurt like hell if I had not already been as wet as the Hudson River. He kept battering me as if I were a punching bag for his cock, and he slapped my ass, hard, as he fucked the living daylights out of me.

My first climax came in around 30 seconds, so fast I could barely catch my breath. He would not have known I had climaxed, he was so absorbed in his punishing sex, had not I squirted for only the second time in my life. (The first time I squirted was my first fuck with Nigel in the deep water at the beach, where a beachful of people could partially see us fucking if they had bothered to look.) I did squirt however and it startled Frank; he had not been expecting it.

He resumed punishing me with his powerful cock and that is when my moans began. They began softly but they built as I gradually lost control of myself. I was biting the couch as I buried my face in the couch pillows as he battered my ass with his cock and his vicious hands. He kept going and going and going. What was he, the Eveready fucking bunny?