Corporate Whores

Thanks to Costermonger, Hale1 and Findegil for their editing.

*****

"Well, that's a very interesting offer," I said. "I'm afraid the job just isn't for me."

Tom Jackson wasn't happy about the decision. I decided I'd just have to live, somehow, with his unhappiness.

"This isn't making me very happy, Adams," he said. "Everyone I've ever offered a partnership to has taken me up on the offer."

"Well, I apologize for the unhappiness," I said. "Of course, making you happy is one of the primary goals of my life."

"It should be," he said. "Your future promotions are dependent on it. Several of our senior partners are very eager to see you advance in this firm."

"I'm pleased to hear it," I said. "I really have very little ambition, though. I'm perfectly content with being an associate."

"How does your wife feel about that?" he asked. "Does she know the opportunities you'd have, the benefits that the two of you would enjoy when you make junior partner, and then full partner?"

"I have no idea," I said. "I've never asked her. She has very little interest in my work."

"Does she have any interest in a penthouse apartment in the Dover building?" he asked. "Does she have any interest in you earning high six figures?"

"I'm not sure," I told him. "She's never mentioned being unhappy with our present income or address."

"Why don't you speak with her this weekend?" he said. "I'm sure you might see things differently if you mention the compensation package we're offering."

I agreed to speak with my wife and he went away and left me alone. I finished the case file I was working on and took the rest of the afternoon off. I played golf with my high school football coach and had a nice dinner with my father-in-law. We discussed the case I was working on and he hugged me as we parted.

Marci wouldn't be back until late in the evening so I went to the gym for a couple of hours. By the time I went home and showered, it was time to pick her up from the airport. Her flight was late, so I sat in the bar and had a beer. I kept an eye on the arrival time screen and strolled down to the gate when it said her flight had arrived.

She wasn't alone when she came through the door from the plane. She's never alone. There was some guy in a uniform trailing along, trying to talk to her. She wasn't paying the slightest attention to him.

Those long legs flashed in the high slit of her skirt and that mane of golden hair bounced around the face of an angel. She's been my girl since we were sophomores in high school. She could have anyone, and I mean that. That face goes with a body out of a young man's fever dreams, big firm tits, a tiny waist and a swell to a woman's hips. Her ass is something to feed that fever and she just exudes an air of sexuality that makes men act like fools around her. I've seen men run into things, watching her. If you add a mind like a steel trap, Marci is the total package.

Marci knows she's hot, she can't help it, but I'm lucky enough to be the one guy she's hot for. She saw me waiting, and her face lit up in a beautiful smile, white teeth flashing in the dark tan of her skin. She moved faster and the uniform was nearly trotting to keep up. She threw herself into my arms and I picked her up and swung her around. One of her heels nicked the uniform on the thigh and he gave a yelp. I set her down and she gave me a kiss that made my knees weak. She looked around and noticed the uniform.

"Oh, baby, this is Captain Sparks. He was our copilot. He has so many fascinating stories to tell. He makes it feel as if you were right there in the cockpit with him during all those missions he flew when he was in the Air Force." Her voice was low, husky and sounded like canned sex. She knew what that did to me, the little minx. "Captain, this is my husband, Zane." His face fell at the mention of "husband."

"Wow, fighter pilot?" I asked.

"Yeah, I flew Hornets," he said.

"Air Force guy, huh?" I asked.

"Yep, that's where I got my wings," he said.

"Huh, well, I guess that just shows you what we civilians know," I said.

He frowned. "I guess," he gave a nervous laugh. "What do you know?"

"I never knew the Air Force had aircraft carriers," I said.

He stuttered around for a minute. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"Well, those Hornets are carrier based," I said.

His face went crimson. He blustered around for a second and decided he had business elsewhere. Marci let him get ten feet away before she went into gales of laughter. "You're a mean man, baby," she said, and gave me another one of those kisses. "Take me home. I've been three days in the desert and I'm as horny as a goat. I'm going to turn you into a marshmallow tonight."

By midnight I was roasting over a fire and ready for my graham crackers and chocolate bar. I drifted in a pleasant haze with two big breasts crushed against my chest, her nipples scraping against my skin in a very delicious sensation.

"Miss me?" she asked.

"Every second," I told her. "Hey, Marci, how do you feel about a penthouse apartment in the Dover building?"

"I don't know," she said. "It's kind of an old building. Which way does it face?"

I pondered. "I'm not sure, they haven't told me yet. I can also earn 'high six figures'."

"Hmm," she murmured. "Is that what you want?"

"No, not really," I said. "I was just offered a junior partnership at Abbot and Reims. They thought I should mention it to you."

"Well, congratulations," she said. "Who do I have to fuck?"

"Everyone, I think," I said. "The senior partners are very interested in promoting me. I actually think they're more interested in you than in me."

That amazing body slid against mine and I could feel the moisture of her pussy against my thigh. "Well, no problem then," she said. "Maybe one of them has a giant cock. I've always wanted a giant cock. What do you think?"

"No, I've never cared much for cocks, giant or otherwise," I said. "Well, I like mine pretty well, but just mine. It's kind of a giant, you know."

She giggled, fondled the sleepy giant and it did things to me. "Looks like my marshmallow man just found out he can go again!" He had, and he did.

"I'm supposed to let them know what you think about the apartment and the huge checks," I told her.

"I'm more interested in the huge cocks," she said. "Feel them up or something, Zane. Let me know what you find out." She giggled a little. It was a cute giggle, but inappropriate.

I shivered. "I don't much care for feeling up 60-year-old men," I said. I cupped one of those spectacular mounds on her chest. "Really, I don't care much for feeling up men at all, no matter what their age is. If it's all the same, I'll just feel these babies up."

She giggled again and slapped my hand away. "No touchy until I say! How am I going to know if Mr. Big Executive has a foot-long dong unless you cooperate a little?" It wasn't long before she gave me the word and I sunk my fingers into those spectacular mounds while she rode me to glory. It was better than being in the cockpit of one of those Hornets.

Monday, one of the senior partners summoned me to his office. Zach Hebron was a handsome older gentleman with iron gray hair and a deep-water tan.

"Zane, come in, son, grab a chair." He was all smiles and handshakes. "Jackson told me he made you an offer," he said. He was beaming like a lighthouse. "Congratulations, you've been working hard and you deserve it."

"Well, I haven't exactly accepted. Thanks for the congratulations, but they're a bit premature." I just thought I should mention it.

"He said you were going to speak with your wife about it," he said. "How did that go?"

"She seemed to consider the matter carefully," I said. "She asked which way the apartment faced."

He rubbed his hands together, gleefully. "Oh, it will have a river view," he said. "I'm sure she'll love it. Did she say anything else?"

"Well, she did mention that she was very interested in giant dongs," I said. "Do you think any of the senior partners have giant dongs? I'm supposed to find out."

He patted his crotch in what I'm sure was supposed to be a suggestive manner. "Well, I just happen to be pretty well endowed, myself," he smirked. "Damn, Zane, this is going better than I even hoped. Your wife is one of the hottest women on the planet. I know we'll be able to work this out so that everyone is happy."

I nodded. "Well, keeping everyone happy has always been my top priority," I said.

"Good man," he said. "You know your advancement and continued employment with Abbot and Reims depends on keeping us happy. You have your priorities in order, Zane. Tell me: is your wife as good as she looks?"

"Better," I said. "She's always kept me happy."

"I'll just bet she has," he said with another of those smirks. "What does she like?"

"Everything," I said. "Well, she's never cared much for anal."

"She will, oh, she will," he promised. "She'll come with you to the Christmas party, right? That would mean a lot to the people responsible for voting on adding you as partner."

"I'm sure she'd be delighted," I said. "Marci loves parties."

He let me go back to my office and Tom Jackson took me to lunch. He wanted me to sign some papers, including a lease on the apartment, but I told him I'd like for Marci to take a look at the papers and the apartment before I signed anything. "She's kind of picky about apartments," I said. "She wouldn't like me just signing a lease without her getting a look at it."

He was very understanding and gave me a key. I took the rest of the afternoon off and played golf. Marci called on my cell while I was on the tenth tee, and we made arrangements to go out for dinner.

The valet took my keys and gave me a look. I guess he wasn't used to cars like mine. I hoped he wouldn't scratch it. Marci was inside waiting for me at the bar. There were two guys on each side of her and another couple hovering around like vultures. She jumped up when she saw me come in and took me to our table, leaving her erstwhile drinking buddies disconsolate.

The waiter brought our food and we talked about our days. Marci thought she was about ready to move on her case. "I hope you can wrap it up by Christmas," I told her. "We've been invited to the Christmas party at the office. All the big shots were really hoping we could come."

She wiggled like a puppy. "You know I love parties, baby," she said. "I hope you accepted for us."

"I wanted to ask you first," I said. "I didn't know whether you'd be ready or not."

"I think it will be perfect," she said.

I mentioned that I had the key to the apartment so we could go look at it and she could hardly let me finish my meal. I wanted a piece of cheesecake and a cup of coffee. She tapped her fingernails impatiently on the table and glared at me so fiercely that I could hardly enjoy the dessert. It was very good, but her impatience made me scald my tongue on the coffee a little.

We drove down to the Dover building and the doorman let us in. I told him we had a key and that we were supposed to look at an apartment. We wanted to see if it suited us. He was a bit snooty, mentioning that all the apartments in the building were first class.

Marci mentioned that he had a scuff on one shoe. "Better get some polish on that," she said. "Vintage shoes like that must be hard to find."

His face turned very red and he hurried away, probably to take care of the shoe problem.

"You're a mean girl, baby," I teased her, once the doorman was safely out of sight. She laughed and hugged my arm. We got on the elevator and the key fit the penthouse level slot. It seemed like it took only a second for us to arrive, but it may have been longer. Marci had attacked me in the elevator, and making out with a smoking hot woman always makes the time fly. She was pulling her skirt back down when the elevator came to a stop.

We went down the hall and let ourselves in. The apartment was spacious; it had large rooms and glass all along the outside wall. It was facing the river, as promised. Marci gave it a walkthrough and I went the other way. We met in the kitchen. She tapped her heel on the floor.

"Laminate," she said. "Can you believe it?" She looked disgusted.

"I hear you can drop a bowling ball on it and not damage it," I said, trying to look on the bright side.

She gave me a funny look. "Why would we want to drop a bowling ball on our kitchen floor?" Then the corners of her mouth turned up, and I knew what was coming. "Want to try out the bed?" she asked.

"I'm not really all that tired," I said. "I just had that cup of coffee. My tongue still hurts."

"Aww, poor baby, I've got just the thing for it," she said. She dragged me off to the bedroom and gave me my tongue treatment. It turns out that pussy juice is the ideal treatment for scalded tongues. Mine felt 100 percent better. So did other parts.

"The bed has a squeak," she said, as we rode the elevator back down.

The snooty doorman was back at his post, but no civilities were exchanged. Marci chattered like a magpie all the way home and we had a little nightcap and went to bed. She was up ahead of me the next morning and had coffee ready. I got a cup, resolving not to be rushed in its consumption, though I had enjoyed the previous day's treatment, and I asked her about the apartment.

"Yes, go ahead and sign the lease," she said. "I'll make sure it can be sublet."

I went to work and Jackson called me in just before lunch. "What did you and your wife think of the apartment?" he asked.

"She seemed to like it," I said. "The view of the river was very nice. Maybe once they get the fish kill cleaned up it would be a nice place to take a walk."

He didn't seem to have a response to that. "Well, tell her to dress nice for the Christmas party," he said. "She's never been to one before and I'm sure all the senior partners are really looking forward to meeting her. You know, Zane, many of the associates have very attractive wives, as well. Would you like to see some pictures? One of the perks of being a partner, you know." He gave me a wink.

I've always been partial to looking at pictures of attractive women, ever since I found my Dad's stash of Playboys in the garage when I was a kid. "Sure, I'll give them a look," I said.

"I'll email you the file," he said. "Don't look at them when there's anyone with you. We're very discreet about this."

"Well, that's good," I said. "There wouldn't happen to be any pictures of Marci on there?"

"No, not yet," he said. "Would you like pictures? We could arrange for some at the Christmas party."

"Yes, I think I'd like that," I told him.

"You're doing the right thing for your career," he assured me. "With the downturn in the economy, it wouldn't be a good time to be looking for a new position."

"Yes, I know," I said. "There are a lot of people unemployed. I'm very thankful to have my position."

"Good man," he said. "It's great to have up-and-comers like you around who have their heads screwed on straight."

I ambled back to my desk, the image of screw-on heads occupying my thoughts. I didn't have a client that afternoon, so I pulled up the images from the file Jackson sent me. They were quite... explicit. I had no idea that the men of the firm had such attractive wives! Joel Thomas' wife was a stunner! She was a gorgeous redhead. I've always been partial to Titian hair. She had it all going on, right down to that little orange tuft above what looked like a delightful pussy.

Clarence Jenkins' wife was just spectacular. Talk about brown sugar! Those little nipples looked just like Hershey's Kisses and her ass was just amazing. I wondered if Marci would mind me spending a little time becoming better acquainted with those gorgeous babes. While she was investigating foot-long dongs, you know. I decided I should ask her.

I flagged the two pictures and sent her the file. My note read, "Hey, baby, I just got invited to inspect the merchandise. I was wondering, while you're having your fun at the Christmas Party, would you mind if I took one of these lovelies for a spin?"

It wouldn't do to just... do it. Marci would have my balls on a platter if I snuck around on her. I waited for thirty minutes for a reply, but I got nothing. Hopefully, that was a good sign. Then it came. "Why are you sending me pictures of women? Do you think I'm a lesbian? I guess I'll just have to prove I'm not when I get home. Cocks, Zane, it's giant cocks I want to see. How do you expect me to know who I should latch onto at the Christmas party if you won't send me cock pictures?"

I stuck my head out the door and looked around. No one seemed headed my way, so I went back into my office, shut the door and got my phone out. I unzipped my pants and whipped it out. The little guy was already about half at attention from his efforts to salute the gorgeous redhead and the beautiful Mrs. Jenkins, so a couple of strokes brought him to full rigidity. I snapped a couple of pictures and sent them to Marci.

It took about two minutes to get my reply. "Now that's what's up!! What a beautiful cock. How big do you think it is? There's nothing to tell how big it is. Don't you have a banana or something, for scale?"

I chuckled to myself. She didn't recognize the little soldier. "I think it's about ten inches," I replied. "Sorry, no bananas about, all I have is a stapler. I don't think anyone is going to let me near their junk with a stapler."

"Darn," she sent back. "I guess I'll just have to measure him when I get home. Have a ruler handy."

Damn, that was one smart woman. I wondered how she knew. I looked at the pictures again. Maybe she recognized the white boxers with the black Playboy bunnies on them. She bought them for me in Arizona last year. I'd completely forgotten. I wondered if Zach Hebron would mind flopping out his "endowment" next to a stapler. I picked up my stapler and headed for his office. I changed my mind before I got to the door.

Maybe his word would just be enough for Marci. She could go after him at the party and if he was a liar, she could try someone else. Surely, among the seven of them, there would be one at least above average.

She wasn't home when I got there and I scurried around the house like a squirrel, hiding every ruler in the house. She breezed in just after five, threw her briefcase on the couch and grabbed me by the hand.

"I spent a bunch of time outside today," she said. "I'm all sweaty. Take a shower with me."

The shower led to... other things and by the time I emptied myself the third time into that tight little pussy, there was no way she was going to get him back up to measure. I was safe. Tomorrow she would have forgotten all about it.

It was Saturday and she woke me up with one of her world-class blowjobs. We took another shower and that led to me fucking her from behind as she leaned against the wall and cried out her pleasure. She had to go in to work for an hour. I asked her what was so important and she told me she had a file to organize and a bunch of people to identify.

I sat down at my computer and looked at my file of attractive women. Damn, that redhead was hot! I thought I should remember to remind Marci that I wanted to play with her. She really hadn't said no the day before, so I was optimistic.

My optimism proved to be ill founded. "Just look at that slut," she said when she got back. We were looking through the pictures. "Her pussy looks like the Holland Tunnel. How many Christmas parties do you suppose she's been to?"

"Well, it looks like several," I said, looking at the poses. "These weren't all taken at the same time. She's in different rooms."

"Good eye," she said.

"Well, if you can recognize Playboy boxers, I can..." I trailed off. Shit, now I'd reminded her about the measuring thing. She didn't seem to notice. Whew, that was a close one.