Author's Notes:
This is a story about a woman who knows what she wants, and she will do anything, use everything, and hold back nothing to get it. Strong, confident women are not always well-liked. They are often thought to be pushy, manipulative, and just plain bitches. Fair warning: this character lives up to the stereotype. She survives and flourishes in a dog-eat-dog corporate hellscape. If you do not like strong women, confident women equal to the task of the male-dominated, cannibalistic corporate world, then this story is not for you.
All characters are fictitious, and all are over eighteen. I hope you enjoy this work. Please vote and comment. That is how we learn.
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This was Janet's second job and a real step up. She had only been out of college for two years, and it was her dream job, at least at this stage in her career. It was with a prestigious finance firm and was more than just getting coffee for the handsy associates and bosses. There was a boatload of training, putting her on the fast track to promotions. Mrs. Abernathy in HR had told her that the sky was the limit, and especially for women, the glass ceiling had been broken as there were three women on the board and five female vice presidents. It involved her moving to The Big City and well away from the comfort and support of her kith and kin, but it excited her because, finally, she was on her own.
The firm was so big that it was housed in three dedicated office buildings in the city. After finding a modest efficiency apartment at a surprisingly reasonable price, she took her mandatory two-month training at the main building. It was the original location of the firm's founding and known simply as Headquarters. The apartment was very efficient, consisting of one large room in a large house with a kitchenette, bed, and a separate small bathroom. The shower was phone booth size, and one could almost sit on the toilet and brush one's teeth at the sink simultaneously.
Of course, she excelled in her training. That was just the way Janet did things. There was no halfway or slacking in her makeup. Everything she did, whether it was sports, she lettered in soccer, volleyball, and track, or academics, Janet missed salutatorian by two-tenths of a point, even though she blew or licked the pussy of every professor or coach in her last semester. Abigail Silverstein, the salutatorian, had evidently blown or licked the pussy of every professor, coach, and graduate assistant in her senior year. Brian Beasly, the valedictorian, had blown or licked the pussy or had been a receiver for, depending on their preferences, every professor, coach, graduate assistant, dean, and Janet-believed janitor on the campus for all four years. Janet determined that that would never happen to her again, being caught lacking in going all out.
After two months of training, she was transferred to Office Building Two with a stack of recommendations from her trainers, and she heard her name was mentioned at a managers' meeting.
Apparently, the company president, Steven Hursh, had stated, "Well, if you think she is that good, let's give her to Office Building Two and see what she is made of."
Office Building Two was a step up. All the other trainees were sent to Office Building Three, where their training would continue, and they would be given little responsibility. Being sent to Office Building Two meant she would get meaningful assignments and be expected to produce. When Deborah Lindsey of HR gave Janet her final briefing, Deborah was excited, praising and encouraging Janet's work. Deborah excitedly told Janet where she was assigned and what would be expected of her. Janet was excited as well. As HR detailed the assignment, Janet could feel herself moistening down there. She had worked so hard for this, and it was beginning to come true. By the time Deborah finished, Janet's skimpy thong was awash with her fluids, an errant drop or two tickling her inner thighs as gravity caused it to journey down while she stood there.
Deborah dismissed Janet to go home early that day when the meeting concluded as a further reward. Janet was happy with that because she didn't want to sit down in the skirt she had on, afraid her fluids would leave a noticeable wet spot.
Janet was told to leave by the executive exit, and as she met some executives, they knew who she was and stopped her to chat and congratulate her. Like all the other low-level players, the others in her class left by the front entrance at the end of the day. Her vibrator egg inserted in her pussy full blast could not have excited her more. By the time she managed this gauntlet of excited congratulations, drops of her pussy nectar were running down past her knees. When Steven Hursh stopped her and chatted with her like she was already an executive, it left her panting, and a new flood of her sweet juices flooded her thong, running almost in rivulets down her legs. At the exit door, she stopped her hand on the crash bar, trying to catch her breath. The totality of all that had happened today struck her like a lightning bolt, and she looked down and saw drops of her love juice on her highly polished shoes.
She whispered, "Holy shit," and exited the building.
The cool breeze driven down the street between the skyscrapers tingled her wet legs and excited her so that what she wanted to do was pull her skirt up, yank her thong off, and enjoy the erotic pleasure of it. She hadn't dated in some time. The hard work she had been doing kept her mind safely off sex, but freed now, all she wanted was a big stiff cock and a male with the energy and desire to use that cock on her, over and over again. Her college sex life had been incredible. Beautiful, she had no problem getting dates, and her large breasts and hairless pussy, given readily and easily, kept them coming back. It wasn't necessarily that she was an easy lay. That would imply that the male was hunting for her. No, it was the other way around. She was the huntress, and males were easy prey. She remembered what her roommate at college had said when they were freshmen after Janet, studying Bio 101, had made the offhand comment that it would be nice to have a dick.
"If you have one of these, Janet," her roommate said, pulling her dress up and rubbing her pussy, "You can get all of those," pointing to the picture of a cock, "You want."
Janet stopped at a McDonalds next door to the building. Not to get a Big Mac or coffee but to use the bathroom and remove her soaked thong. As she sat there, she absentmindedly rubbed her clit and moaned. Janet brought the wet thong to her nose and inhaled her musky scent. Oh, she loved the smell of pussy almost as much as she liked the taste of cum. Luxuriating in the sheer eroticism of her scent, her clit being rubbed, and the incredibly sexual feelings she had, she used all of her inner strength to refrain from making herself cum. Janet knew the pleasure and power of not giving in to instant gratification. Sighing, she wiped her pussy, thighs, and legs with toilet paper drying them the best she could, stood, adjusted her hem, and exited the stall. There was no one in the restroom with her, and she tossed her soaked thong into the waste bin.
She whispered, looking her image in the mirror in the eyes, the mantra she had developed, "Do anything to get ahead. Use what you have. Don't hold back like you did in college, Bitch."
In the big city, one doesn't need a car. The costs of parking a vehicle is almost as much as human housing. So, Janet took the bus being careful to pull her skirt up so that she didn't sit on it to prevent a wet spot, and put her naked pussy on the cool faux leather seats. She smiled at the naughty sensations, remembering it being a part of the training and requirements of the slaves in
The Story of O
. Janet wasn't all hot to be a slave, although she had been tied up and fucked a few times. Professor Richardson, the fucking professor of her nemesis chemistry, liked it that way. His wife wouldn't do it, he told her, and well, Janet had to get an A, and her B needed to be corrected any way she could. As she stood to exit the bus, she looked at a big wet spot on the seat and smiled, a tingle in her pussy making her moan.
She decided to go to a restaurant in her neighborhood after the bus ride as a reward. It was an Italian restaurant, her favorite, and she could smell the garlic a half block away. All that wiping at McDonald's was for naught now as she felt the slick wetness on her thighs unimpeded by some nasty thong trying to guard her modesty. She relished the feeling as the female greeter escorted her to a booth. The greeter was tall and thin with large Italian boobs. Her ass swayed back and forth, and Janet imagined her between her legs licking her desperately needy pussy.
Again, Janet adjusted her skirt to sit directly on the Naugahyde seat, its cool, naughty sensations reviving a flood of her woman syrup, and in the time between the greeter leaving and her waiter arriving, she stealthily tasted herself. This taste of pussy again opened the floodgates of her sex, and as she sucked discretely on her fingers, the waiter appeared. To say he was handsome would be to say that Halle Berry was pretty. He was tall and muscled. His tight Black T-shirt with the restaurant logo was skin tight and showed all his rippling muscles, even the six-pack on his stomach. A white towel tucked in his waistband partially covered his black pants.
Used to the early crowd being grandmas and grandpas, he looked startled and pleasantly surprised by the sight of a beautiful woman for a change.
"Buon pomeriggo (
Good afternoon
). My name is Anthony, and I have the pleasure of serving you today. Can I get you something to drink to start," he said in an Italian accent.
Was it an authentic Italian accent or fake? Janet had no idea and didn't care.
"Do you have Soave, Anthony?" she asked, smirking.
