Must You Solve Everything With Sex Ch 02

For technical reasons, I had to change the title. This is part two of my story called "Must you Solve Everything with Sex?"

*****

Charlie woke up, turned the lights on, and started to get dressed. I struggled to keep sleeping, but he made no effort to be quiet. He finally got out of our bedroom, but he didn't turn the lights out, neither did he close the door. I heard him calling the girls to wake up. I was almost dreaming again when he came back and called them louder. I got up. It was my time to manage the offspring. Charlie wouldn't be of much help early in the morning anyway, especially with Candice's hair.

Charlie was ever a step ahead every morning, since the girls relied solely on me for the dress up and eat ritual. There was always some problem: a shoe missing, a sudden distaste for a certain color, or something. As Charlie ate breakfast, I was between the bathroom and their bedroom. As he got ready to go, we ate breakfast. As I tried to organize everything for their school, they clung to their father prematurely missing him.

I left the girls at school, and finally got to work. I had nearly forgotten the great contract I brought them the day before, but it was the first thing I heard about as I arrived. Everybody dimmed important to congratulate me.

Danica was there and smiled at me with a very naughty look. I was just getting my first coffee when my boss brought the news.

"Lisa, the boys want to talk to you," she saw me pouring the coffee and was strangely considerate giving me the time I needed to finish it before going to see the boys.

These were Jonathan J. Klippel and Arthur Silverman. We called them that as a joke since they were both far older than anyone in the building - perhaps in the US. They were the real bosses there. They responded only to the owners, who lived far in our central office, in Chicago.

I enjoyed talking to them wearing something that would make them drool, since they were dirty old men - like any rich dick. That day, however, having just had sex both with my husband and another man, I was feeling sexy no matter what I put on. I had a simple light-yellow dress. It made justice to what was underneath it, but it was not very tight. It went down to my knees, up my neck, with no sleeves. The real treat was my hair. It had been natural for years, no attempt to "contain" it. It went every which way, perfectly curly, and the boys loved it. They thought it gave me a regal quality. I agreed.

They were sitting on a couch and had two chairs in front of them. Fabiana went straight to one of them. Jonathan offered me a cigar while congratulating me for the successful deal as I sat on the other chair. He knew I didn't smoke. Hardly anyone did, but they kept the symbolic gesture from who knows when.

"Thank you, Mr. Klippel," I smiled.

"Come on, sweetheart! Call me Jonathan," he said, his eyes enjoying my hair.

"Yes, Mr... Jonathan," I gave him a gentle smile and he laughed, deeply pleased.

I always played this game. He was a bit younger than Silverman and usually mistook that fact with being more alive than his partner. They were both way over the hill. Only a professional and dedicated hooker would see their wallet through such a decay of the human body. Maybe one of Hugh Hefner's girls?

I crossed my legs to emphasize my thighs opposite to Fabiana's, and waited. I was actually a bit nervous. I knew Worthington's account was important, but I didn't believe it would merit an audience with the boys. There had to be more to it. Silverman, annoyed with Jonathan's flirting, came to it.

"Mrs. Thompson, we called you here today not only to give our appreciation but to make you an offer,"

"I'm all ears, Sir," said I, telling the truth!

"We've been watching you very closely for some time now, although I doubt you were aware of it," he said, actually taking a quick look at my tits. Funny old misogynist. Both Fabiana and I moved ourselves on our chairs.

"Not, really, Mr. Silverman," I said, containing a disrespectful laugh.

"Come on, old man, you make it sound as if we were spying on her," Jonathan hit him friendly on the back and tried to relax us all.

"What's really happened is that some people took an interest on you back in Chicago. They were thinking of transferring you," I smiled and tried to say something, but I really didn't find words.

"We know it's an important decision..." Jonathan continued, but waited for a response right there.

"Jonathan, Mr. Silverman," I began, "I'm actually very flattered. It means a lot to me, as our firm does. I'm glad I've been lucky this last few months," I could feel Fabiana sinking on her chair. "There are, however, some concerns. I have Charlie and the girls. They both love their school..."

"Of course, of course," Silverman intervened, "we are not saying you'd have to move right away," he tried to laugh. "We are actually resisting those northeastern dicks who are trying to steal our golden egg chicken," I managed to find some flattering in there.

"But we really can't resist them forever, and there is a special case they've been wondering if you could handle. Think of it as a trial, for them, for you, and for Chicago," Silverman concluded.

XXXXXXXXXX

Charlie took the news pretty well. It seemed to him they were recognizing my efforts, which I pretty damn well deserved. My daughters were less satisfied with the idea, but for now I'd only be gone for a week. I had no intention to be moved permanently. There was every reason to believe it wouldn't be a good idea for the girls.

The flight took some time, but it was ok, minus the discomfort of so tight seats. At the airport they had a fine limousine driver waiting for me. He held a paper with my name on it right in front of his robust chest.

He was checking me out as I paraded through the lounge. At first he didn't seem to realize I was coming directly to him, being the person whose name he had on his hands. Perhaps he was not expecting a fellow African American. I, on the other hand, had my eyes on those chocolate lips. He was so tall my forehead only reached his chin. That's probably meaningless if you've forgotten I'm 5 ft. 9.

His strong hand shook mine. I tried to be discrete, although I felt like giggling as a high school bimbo. I cursed the long flight for my appearance, even though there was no mirror around where I could really check how I looked.

He showed me to the back seat. It's funny, but I was somehow disappointed by that predictable fact. Even so, I found Chicago very promising.

"Have you lived here long?" I had to start the conversation somehow if I was to keep that driver on my back pocket.

"All my life, Mrs. Thompson," he cordially responded.

"Please, call me Lisa," I said, preparing the obvious question. "And you are?"

"Forest Williams, madam," he smiled by the mirror.

"What must I do for you to relax?" I looked straight at his eyes. "Lisa!"

"Lisa, right," he smiled again.

"Yours is a very fine name!" I flirted, "It sounds strong."

"You like strength?" His eyes were very inappropriate.

"Very much," my eyes were no better.

"That's nice to hear," he spoke, with a soft voice.

Yup, that trip would surely not go to waste, no matter what happened at the firm. I laid back, posing for his pleasure.

When we arrived he opened the door for me. I leaned farther and kept my butt high as I got out of the car, just to be sure he knew I would not forget our little conversation.

Danica was right, I was too rash to mix sex with anything. I'm pretty ok with it being just a bit a fun on my day, but I'm also very aware that that's not true for most people. Since I had just breached my barrier of having sex to get ahead at work, I found it much safer to already have a cock at my disposal outside any business transaction I would make in Chicago. If anything gave me any ideas I could take it out of my system just calling Forest. And it was the cherry on that cake that he happened to be a big strong brother.

Jonathan and Silverman sent me to know those "northeastern dicks", but the first colleague I met there was a cunt. She sized me up the moment I got out of the elevator and she clearly meant me to think she was not impressed. I responded walking like a model and lifting my head high as if I would ignore her completely. She was too thin, her hair of a red too dull, her glasses too big. I would not be bothered by the likes of her.

I went to the door and would walk right through her if she hadn't put her hand up.

"Mrs. Thompson?" she said, stressing her disapproval of being my chaperone.

"Yes?" I replied matter-of-factly.

"I'm miss O'Neil. I'm here to welcome you," she completed in an unwelcome tone.

"Oh, I thought you were just standing there, waiting for the elevator," I replied in kind.

"We actually have a lot to do here," she tried to dismiss my provocation, but couldn't. "No one just stands around. Maybe you do things differently in Denver. Would you come in?"

I replied with an ugly face behind her back. A better comeback would have to wait.

She opened the door, but went in first. She was at least 10 years older than me. A redhead blue eyed gal with no manners. She shook her skinny butt a lot. She surely wanted me to notice how firm her ass was, but I obviously credited it to some garment underneath her dress. It was quite obvious that no one had fucked her in awhile. It explained her stuck up attitude. She definitely needed someone to stick something up her. Still calling herself "miss" seemed like such an obvious attempt to deny her age, but it called attention to the absence of any ring on her finger.

Their office didn't impress me much. They were about the same size as ours, but it was messier and, at the same time, lifeless. It caught my attention that there was only one black person working there, and the vast majority of the employees were men. For some reason I expected more equality in Chicago. Well, this was just one office, after all, not the whole city. But it was yet another bad impression.

That O'Neil bitch finally presented me to someone important. Our meeting was right there, among everybody else, on our feet.

"Mrs. Thompson, yes?" fired away the perfect stranger.

"Yes, sir," I replied, caught between thoughts.

"I'm Jack Willis, creative director, among other things. I understand Silverman already explained you why we called you here," said Jack as I tried to avoid staring at him too intently.

"Yes, but he didn't give me any specifics, sir," I tried to sound a jack-of-all-trades, since O'Neil was still beside me.

"That's all right," he continued. "The situation is very simple. We'd like you to evaluate the interest we may have in getting the contract from a certain company. Should you judge it's in our best interest, conquer them for us. We obviously expect you to close the deal within the week if you find it profitable and necessary. You'll be working with Miss O'Neil. She knows the whole city like no one else, and she will be much useful to you, I'm sure,"

"Of course, Tom," she responded, with no effort to sound much convincing.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

O'Neil made my life harder right from the first day. She "misplaced" files, seemed to forget almost anything that would be important or that would save time, and had always the most disapproving face she could maintain for hours on end. She seemed to take a special taste on seeing me buzzing around and getting annoyed by her petty games. My butt danced up and down as a provocation, all eyes on me every time I left my desk.

I left the building pretty late. They offered me a drive home, but it was not Forest. That was disappointing, as the other driver had no appeal nor an answer about Forest's whereabouts. I called his phone, but he didn't answer. I thought about giving the pool a try, but I feared another disappointment. What if I went down there and found no one willing and able?

I called home. Listening to my daughters moan about the distance and talk about their day really made me hate O'Neil and Jack Willis. After hanging up, I thought the night would be off with a bath and TV. Fortunately, I left the window completely open while I undressed, as I was used doing back home.

It was part of a screening process that had become second nature to me. As I let my dress drop, I still had to open its bottom, revealing first my back to anyone who'd look through my window. From behind, one can see I have big breasts, but can only hope they really are as beautiful as they seem. One hopes I'll turn around before closing the window. Opening the bottom of the dress reveals just a glimpse of my butt cheeks. It delineates the curvature of my body making my waist seem even thinner and my hips even larger. Then comes the natural movement of leaning, butt up high, as I guide the dress down, lightly swinging my ass to ease the flow of the fabric.

By then, I'd hope any jealous woman had already closed her window, leaving the show to lesbians and men eager to enjoy themselves. This beginning gives them time to discover me.

As I said, this little pleasure has become instinctive to me, so I didn't quite think about it as I got ready for my bath. Later I understood it was during this routine that the man across the street discovered me. For a few minutes, I walked around the room just in my underwear, oblivious to his gaze.

I only wore thongs. I like to feel sexy anytime, but I also consider them the only comfortable panties there are. They were white, and looking at them realized the fact that Forest would not be ripping them apart tonight.

My bra matched them, although I always bought them separate. My breasts were too big to fit in bras sold in sets. The fabric was firm underneath, but from the nipples up the bra was softer and translucent. One could see the tips, but you had to look harder to be sure. Were they revealing enough for my stalker to see them up and down, as I organized the room and the coming bath? I put the dress carefully away, opened my suitcase looking for a comfortable nightgown, put the watch here, the cell there... Little things, as I mindlessly paraded my dark body through the room.

I finally went to the bathroom. There wasn't much space, so I had to close the door a bit, leaving just a few inches through which he must have seen me taking the bra, then the panties off.

There was a bathtub, but it was very small. Still, I had to cleanse myself from O'Neil and the long day of work. I enjoyed the bath for sometime, but I could not fit perfectly in the tub. I either stretched my legs far out or had to sit so straight my tits were completely above the water, shinning with soap.

I finally got out. I put string panties again and a simple light yellow nightgown. Besides covering my breasts, it loosely went down to my waist, smoothly caressing the top of my butt cheeks. I cupped my hair in my hands and gently scrunched upward, in order to dry it neatly. It's a long process, so I just sat on the bed and watched TV. Only then did I realize the fact that I had left the windows open and lights on whilst I was parading around the room naked putting on quite the show for anyone looking at my room.

I tried to look discretely to a mirror to my left. In the reflection of the mirror I could see the man in the building across from gawking at me. He seemed pretty close, so I tried not to make any sudden moves, and avoided laughing.

I looked for something sexy on TV. The adult channels could not be accessed, and I didn't break the mood by calling the lobby. I found the next best thing, music videos from J- Lo rubbing every man in town.

I came closer to the end of the bed, and rested my feet on the ground. I slowly opened my thighs. I wouldn't normally suck my fingers to prepare them, but I thought it would make clear to there stranger that he was about to get lucky prying on other people's intimacy. I licked them as if I had a beautiful cock at my disposal. Only then did I put two fingers inside my mouth and sucked them as tenderly as I would a cock.

I found my other hand getting ahead of myself, already pulling up my nightgown. I rubbed myself over my panties, feeling how hot and moist my pussy was already. Only when I touch myself do I realize how much heat comes out of my horny cunt. Then my wet fingers came underneath my panties and met my electrified clit, eager for some action.

I looked at the screen and imagined Jennifer's dancers voraciously coming down on me. I even imagined her watching it, jealously. I could feel my pussy responding to my imaginary lovers. It was so real I had to lie back on the bed. I had nearly forgotten my perverted real observer. I was feeling my own juices covering my cunt and soon wetting all over, inviting any cock.

That brought the voyeur to my memory. I looked at the mirror found the distinct silhouette of him masturbating. I couldn't see his cock nor his face, so I began to imagine whatever and whomever I wanted to feel inside of me.

I could provoke myself no longer, so in came my two fingers, while my other hand liberated my boobs from that gown and massaged them, first with a soft touch, then a hard grab, then softer again. I finally squeezed one breast until only my nipple remained between my fingers. I grabbed my cunt hard and fiercely shook my fingers inside of me, rubbing my clit with my thumb. I pressed my nipple hard enough for it to hurt. Then I let it escape through the pressure.

I moved myself back enough to firm my feet on the mattress again. Like that, I lifted my ass as far as I could. Still touching and rubbing me, I got my nipple to my mouth and licked it, stretching my tongue. I knew he would see what I was doing even from that far away.

I was about to cum, but I didn't want the show to end without a bang. I got on my knees, my back to the window. I took the gown completely out, pulled the thong down and rested my face on the mattress. My butt was completely naked, directly turned towards that horny bastard who was me making me so hot all alone in my room.

I remembered Joseph's thick cock, the one that got me there in the first place, and stuck three fingers inside of me, as side by side as I could. I then pulled only the labia, each side with one finger. That left my clit completely vulnerable. I wished the man across the street would be close enough to see the light pink against my black skin. I wished he could smell the fierce arousal I felt, hearing the moans I let out uncontrollably.

Pulling like that, I relentlessly rubbed my clit with the other hand, which soon made me burst, squirting like hell. I made everything I could to keep rubbing myself forever. When I had to stop, it was only because I fell down trembling, laughing, screaming. Electrified from time to time, my ass just rested there, defenseless.

As the heat receded, I thought about covering myself, but I was still enjoying the idea that anyone opening their window would be greeted with sight of my shapely backside.

I had, however, screamed too loud. The bellboy knocked. I came up and found my peeper's window closed. I also found out I had wet the window, the wall and the floor. I opened the door showing only my satisfied face, one shoulder, and my shin and foot, insinuating my completely naked body. The moment he asked if everything was ok, I could see it hitting him, the scent of a powerful orgasm claiming my whole room.