Alphia Corporation

Meanwhile, across town, Tom and Nancy Owens were sitting down to their breakfast.

"You have a meeting with the ladies this afternoon, don't you?" Nancy Owens asked her husband as they sat together in their favorite trendy morning coffee shop they breakfasted in each morning.

"Yeah," Tom said. "I don't usually attend, but Karen told me that there was some big thing that all the ... non-employed junior executive spouses needed to discuss. Mrs. Bishop is going to be there to lead the meeting this time, I think."

"Hmm," Nancy said, blowing the steam off the huge mug of tea with which she started her day. "That's a little unusual. You usually skip them. Why are you going today?"

"Thank you," Tom Owens said to the young woman who brought them their breakfast. Eggs and toast for Tom; oatmeal for his wife. He shook his head. He couldn't eat that stuff but Nancy didn't seem to mind.

"Um, well, because Karen asked me to make sure to attend. She said something about the ladies need to make sure they all look after one another," he shrugged. "Not really certain what that has to do with me, but I figure that I might learn something that will help you so I said sure."

Nancy nodded and they each attended to their respective breakfasts, lost in thought.

"You want to go out to the club again tonight?" Tom asked. "I got a crew coming over to help pour the concrete for the pool, but I made sure that Scott and his guys will be at the house by about 10 this morning. I should have the whole thing done by early afternoon so I can get back to the studio."

Tom was a well-known sculptor in metalwork. Through his art he had connections with many in the art and music community. They were both big fans of jazz, and there was a new club that had opened a few weeks ago. They had been there the other evening and had had a good time.

Nancy paused and looked at her husband over her mug of tea. "Aaahh, I have a ... sales meeting this evening with Mr. Borges, so ... maybe the second set."

Tom looked away. "Fuck," he muttered under his breach. "Sorry, I forgot that he moved up the Friday evening ... meeting."

He took a deep breath. "Fine. Second set starts around 9 or so. We can get

dinner there or after, I suppose." He rubbed his face.

"Hey," Nancy said after a moment, taking her husband's hand in hers. "I'm going to be fine."

"Oh, I know. You're tough. I just fucking hate your evening 'meetings' with Mr. Borges," Tom said. "This is really difficult. It just is. You doing what you ... do, all those beautiful women prancing around me all the time and me not getting even a taste ..."

Nancy started to pull all the pieces of a scowl together. She put her lips in a thin line and her brow started to furrow.

After seven years of marriage, Tom knew how to read the signs. "Whoa, whoa there, honey. I know you are doing the heavy lifting here. All I'm saying is that I really don't like sharing you, and ... well, you want to know why I avoid the ladies' meetings?"

There was a pause as Nancy tried to decide whether to put the pieces of the scowl away or double down. Before she could respond, Tom answered his own question.

"Because I am neither a woman nor a eunuch. You and the other wives are just absolutely beautiful, and I know that all the other junior executive guys are getting laid by all the other wives. I know they are. And I'm not. And I know the agreement that we reached together at the start of this, but asking me to go to these meetings, chat with the other ... you know ... 'working women' and just sit there and be a potted plant? No thank you."

Nancy's face softened. She sighed. "You know that I do not enjoy The Arrangement ...". She stopped as Tom cut in.

"I've seen you have an orgasm with Mr. Borges," Tom Owens said angrily. "I've seen you."

Nancy sighed again. "I know, but that's just my body," she said. "It's not my heart. And you know why we are doing this. You wanted enough money to open your own gallery and concentrate on your art. I want to make enough money to open my own business."

She sipped her coffee with a stern look. "If I have to spread my legs a few times ...", and Tom snorted at the term 'few' which she ignored, "then that is not all that different from what other women are doing, and for far less in return."

"A couple more years, and then we are free," Nancy said, putting her hand on her husband's when he did not immediately respond. "I will try to ... loosen up with your freedom with the other ladies. The problem is, if you sleep with them, then ...".

"Then their husbands will expect you to reciprocate," Tom said, finishing the sentence he had heard before. "So the fuck what? You are already fucking other men. What will a few more dicks inside you really mean?"

This time all the pieces of the scowl fell into place. "Because it is different for a woman in business, Tom. You know this. I have explained it to you. If I have sex with my colleagues, then I give up my control at meetings. I won't be able to face them, person to person and expect their attention and their confidence."

"Jesus Christ," Tom muttered. "You know, you are not the only one whose got problems. I should be dealing with the junior executive men. They reach out to me to go to ballgames or hit the links and I always say no, because you asked me to. And I stay away so I don't get tempted by the other wives and it is fucking hard to do!"

Tom pushed his breakfast away angrily.

"I have no friends in The Arrangement. My friends that I have outside of the goddamned Arrangement I can't talk to about our goddamned marriage. You think this is easy? I don't like sharing you, but you want to know what?" Tom said, standing up. He leaned down to his wife and spoke quietly in her ear so as not to make too much of a scene. "I think I'd rather you fuck all your colleagues if that's what it takes for me to actually have a life."

"But Tom ...", Nancy called out with a stricken look on her face as Tom walked off.

He glanced back at his wife. He almost ran back to the table when he saw the tears standing in her eyes but he steeled himself, shook his head and walked out of the restaurant.

======

Sam, being a somewhat eager cuckold and still shocked at the fact of it, was hard as a rock on his drive to the office. He had difficulty even thinking about work related issues.

Of course it did not help either than his first task that morning was to find Steve Borges and give him the two remote controls to the garage door to he and Carrie's home. It was clever the way that Alphia Corporation had systemized the whoring out of their own employees and spouses. Every little step seemed to have been thought out well.

He parked the car in his usual spot, glanced at his phone to see no further messages from his wife, scrolled through the spam in his email and walked towards the elevator. Here, at Alphia Corp, he was senior staff level.

Junior Executive.

It was an elite position and here he had authority over just about anyone in the company.

If he ever left Alphia, he would land on his feet with a very well-paying salaried job immediately. His future was secured. And yet ... the Arrangement was not a liability, Sam realized ... it was a bonus. He felt inflamed with ... sensation overload ... everything seemed brighter, somehow, because sexual excitement was so high.

Walking into Alphia Corp and nodding at the guards at the security desk, being waved past all the metal detectors and guards that were now seemingly required by virtue of presentment of his Executive pass. He could sense the eyes of several briefly visitors on him as he breezed through the security.

"There goes someone important," he could feel them thinking. It made him feel good in some small way. He hopped into the elevator and punched the button for the 8th floor to the Senior Executive suites ... and felt a rush of a combination of anxiety and excitement so intense he felt ill. The package of garage door openers were still in his hand.

The doors opened and he headed down the hall to the corner office where some of the most senior of the executive suits were located. Steve Borges was there, chatting with his secretary and hanging his Armani jacket up on a coat rack. Mr. Borges' strong arms and shoulders were clear through the expensive shirt.

"Mr. Borges?" Sam said, to attract his attention, hating the fact that he felt like he had to have permission to cross the invisible barrier between the hallway and the entrance to the office suite without permission.

Borges turned his head to see who was there and a broad smile broke across his handsome face. "Sam! Great to see you."

He turned towards his office itself which was one of several rooms off the entry area. There were several young people, mostly female and attractive, working different secretarial related tasks.

Sam followed Mr. Borges into the office. He did not close the door but the rooms were sufficiently large and plush that confidential conversations were easy to achieve.

"Carrie give you something this morning?" Borges asked to fill the momentary silence.

"Um, yeah," Sam said, handing the envelope over to Mr. Borges. Mr. Borges, secure and happy at his position as dominant male in this intimate exchange, smiled as he dumped the contents out onto his hand.

Sam flushed and made a noise and involuntary movement when he saw that he had forgotten to remove Carrie's private note to him.

"Hmm," Borges said, seeing the note. He glanced at Sam with amusement and waited until Sam subsided, red-faced. Borges, enjoying looking at Sam as he worked hard to submit to the moment, eventually turned to Carrie's note.

"Haha," he chuckled, and handed it back to Sam.

"Hey, Natalie!" Mr. Borges said loudly, looking past Sam. "Natalie, I need you."

Moments later a pretty, athletic young woman in a pencil skirt and blouse walked briskly into the room. "Yes?"

Mr. Borges tossed one of the remote controls to her. "Here, catch."

Natalie caught it easily out of the air with a slender arm. She glanced at it, frowned at it as she turned it over in her hand and looked at Mr. Borges with one eyebrow raised.

"Run this up to Mr. Jones' office, right now."

She nodded, her auburn hair bouncing delightfully and then walked quickly out of the office.

Sam's eyes were drawn to the remaining garage door opener in Mr. Borges' hand.

"I'm keeping one for myself," Borges explained, his eyes glittering with pleasure as Sam struggled for composure. "I don't usually, but Carrie is such a good fuck that I wanted to make sure I had access to her whenever I want."

Sam gaped.

"I'm giving this one away today, though, but I'll get it back soon enough."

"Wha ---, Who?" Sam stammered. Borges gave him an amused, pitying look. "We own Carrie's pussy now. We never tell the juniors who gets the junior executive slutwife that day," he explained. "Besides, we trade you sluts around all the time."

Sam was stunned, and he stood there just holding Carrie's note.

"Go on, get the fuck out, I've got work to do," Borges growled and Sam fled, red faced and horny.

As he was entering the elevator to go down to his offices on the fourth floor the chime of Carrie's incoming message sounded and he quickly fished his phone out of his pocket and thumbed open the picture. There, on the screen was his lovely wife, beaming at the camera with that devilish look in her eye and Sam knew so well. She was sitting in the driver's seat of her minivan, dressed casually in her sweatshirt, the children in their car seats behind her. The black bow in her hair was clear and so incredibly slutty, although in a secret message that could only be deciphered by her loving husband.

"Jesus Christ," he muttered in awe of his wife. A few people glanced at him but he ignored them. He tried to put his thinking in a chat back to Carrie but he could not find the words. Finally, as he sat down behind his desk, he shot her a text: "FUCK!?"

It seemed the only word to concisely describe his thinking and emotional state.

"Hopefully!?" Came Carrie's immediate response.

Sam just shook his head and stopped trying to match his wife's quick wit and instead put his mind to the myriad challenging and interesting tasks before him. He really enjoyed the intellectual stimulation of the job now. Now he was involved in strategy and management, not just tactical responses and workflow issues. It was much more fun and interesting, and important to the company. Decisions he made could conceivably cost or make the company millions of dollars in a given year.

He was grateful for the responsibility and opportunity.

The morning sped along with meetings, a telephone conference with his coding team and dozens of emails. He lost himself in the intricate and interesting work. It was much more challenging and enjoyable to be part of the strategic thinking on these projects rather than being the boots on the ground, so to speak, banging away on the computer, wrestling with one coding challenge after another.

The phone on his desk chirped, distracting him. "Mr. Stevenson? Your lunch meeting with the Chairman is in 15 minutes," his secretary said, "you told me to remind you at 11:45."

"Oh, right. Thank you, Susan," Sam said, his heart in his throat and his temporarily forgotten sexual tension immediately exploding in his brain. He dithered for a few moments but then got himself together and headed to the elevators.

As Sam approached the Chairman's executive suites on the ninth floor he saw first the large desk behind which Carol, the Chairman's long term executive secretary sat. He had met her that one time, a week or so ago now, when he and Gary had been briefed on the London trip. She was a handsome woman, elegant and tall in her mid-50s. She stood as she saw Sam approach.

"Mr. Stevenson, your timing is excellent. Mr. Jones is waiting for you," Carol said to Sam.

Sam followed Carol into the carpeted vestibule and waited as she knocked on the heavy, dark oak door. Everything was gleaming brass and old, fine wood. It just reeked of moneyed luxury.

"Enter," Mr. Jones' baritone carried through the door.

Carol opened the door and Sam saw the Chairman's office for the second time. He felt his pulse quicken as he recalled the first time in the executive office. He and Gary were told of the assignment of the weekend before and how he learned that Carrie was going to be part of the Alphia Corp team, assigned to tend to the pleasures and whims of the Senior Executives on the trip - Mr. Borges and Mr. Parsons - and also to seduce the seller's team.

Sam remembered how shocked he had been. Events of that weekend had certainly born out both his worries and his fantasies and set Carrie, and set them down the path they were both travelling.

The Chairman was standing near the center of the room, glancing at his watch. "Thank you, Carol," he said.

"Yes sir, shall I move your 1:00 pm to 1:30 to give you time for your ... meeting with Mr. Stevenson?" She inquired professionally, but her eyes slid over to Sam to give him a knowing look and half-smile.

The Chairman smiled at the exchange and at Sam's discomfiture to learn that Carol knew about The Arrangement and Sam's role in it. "And also make sure that John knows that Caroline Stevenson is now officially a corporate whore. Your husband deserves to experience the exquisite Carrie sometime soon."

"Yes sir, he will be very happy to hear that," Carol said, turning to the door. "Will there be anything else, sir?"

Sam's mouth fell open at the casual, but accurate, description of Carrie's status in the company.

"No, that will be all ... unless Brad drops by with the report requested by the Board on the potential acquisition. If he does, please show him in. Hold all my calls though, Carol. Thank you."

Carol nodded and then turned and left the room, pulling the heavy door closed behind her and then Sam was alone in the room with the Chairman.

There followed an awkward silence that the Chairman allowed to build.

"The first evening when I break in a new junior executive hotwife is always so exquisitely pleasant." The Chairman paused a moment and then gave Sam a half-smile, acknowledging Sam's discomfiture. "And my first evening with your lovely wife was no exception," the Chairman continued.

There was a pause as the Chairman gazed calmly at Sam. After a moment, Sam nodded and then blushed as Chairman Jones smiled at the acknowledgment of his dominant position.

He smiled again at Sam and then glanced up at a knock. The door to the Chairman's Executive Suite opened and Brad Simpson strode confidently in. Sam knew Brad only vaguely. He was a Senior Executive of a fairly recent vintage. Sam recalled that Brad and Mary Simpson had introduced Gary and Karen to The Arrangement in much the same way that Gary and Karen had invited Sam and Carrie.

Brad had been promoted shortly thereafter and had therefore been a senior executive for only a few years.

"Brad," the Chairman said, "thank you for coming by for this meeting. I want to put Sam here onto that technical problem you've been having, and I figured to use this meeting as an opportunity to help make your introductions."

Brad Simpson nodded and shook Sam's hand as he sat in one of the other chairs facing the Chairman's desk.

Brad Simpson was a good-looking fit guy about 6' tall. He had light brown, almost blonde hair. Sam always assumed that he'd been an athlete because he moved with a confident, athletic grace.

"Sam, it's good to meet you and I am very glad to have you on board," he said, "people have been telling me you are just the tech genius we need at the executive level. I've got this problem with ...".

He trailed off as he caught the Chairman's look.

"Oh sorry," he said. "I was interrupting. My apologies."

The Chairman nodded. "We were discussing my first evening with Carrie," he said.

Brad's eyes went wide. "This is THAT meeting?" He looked surprised and pleased. "Oh fantastic! This will be fun! I'll just sit tight and wait to talk shop once you've finished."

The Chairman nodded. "As I was just saying, the first evening with a lovely young wife is always pleasant and entertaining, but each unique in its own way, just as each lady is unique in her slutty loveliness."

Sam glanced at Brad who smiled at him in commiseration. "We've all been through it," he said to Sam. "It's mostly fun."

Sam nodded, surprised but pleased that another of the men also enjoyed the cuckold nature of The Arrangement, too.

"For some ladies, like Karen Burroughs, the delicious moment when after supper and back at my apartment I told her to strip so the men I'd invited could all fuck her," the Chairman said.

He looked at Sam. "As I told Carrie last night, Karen talked a good game at dinner - after blowing me on the ride over, of course - but it was at the moment when she had several sets of male eyes upon her that was the moment of the evening," the Chairman said, his eyes alight with the pleasant memory.

"She had never been in such a predicament. There were four men she had never met or even been introduced to eagerly disrobing so as to take her after she was naked. At my instruction she dropped her dress. She looked at me with big eyes when I told her to keep going. The other guys, Roberto and Stan and a couple of Roberto's friends were all primed and ready for her. She removed her bra and exposed herself but when she had to remove her thong ... ahh, that was wonderful!"

He paused in pleasant recollection.

"She is so poised and confident, but at that moment she was vulnerable and anxious it was almost painfully delicious," the Chairman said and paused, savoring the memory again.

"And ... what happened?" Brad Simpson asked as the momentary pause extended.