Executive Privilege Ch 01 1

"Ohhh fffff, right there, baby." Wendy's manicured nails dug into the sheets as she lifted her back off the bed. Her long legs wrapped around Jon's lean build, locking her ankles behind his back as she pulled him closer. His tongue explored her freshly shaved lips with more vigor while his fingers circled her nub, every movement drew desperate gasps from her lips.

She lay writhing under him, her long blonde hair fanned out across the pillow as her full breasts swayed to the rhythm of each movement. Two years of marriage had done nothing to diminish their physical chemistry, even if their demanding careers often left them too exhausted for moments like this.

"Ahhh yes, don't stop, baby." Her hands drifted to her chest, fingers ghosting over her sensitive nipples. Her curves were her best asset, the things people noticed first about her. Her tongue slid from her mouth as she rolled the sensitive peak between her fingers. She just wished it wasn't the only thing they noticed. She tried wearing baggy clothes, and different bras, but nothing seemed to work. They were always there, always the only thing people saw. The marketing firm where they worked had quickly discovered the analytical brilliance of Jon and within a few years made him an account manager. As for Wendy, her marketing insight was lost beneath several appreciative looks and double-innuendos. Her innate creativity and intuition about the market were overlooked by the corporate pecking order as she fought her way not to be classified as just another pretty face with a great figure.

"Uhhhnnng." The sound escaped her throat. The pleasure continued to build, as her body battled with her her mind for attention. It was one of those few moments when her figure felt like a gift and not an obstacle. She wanted to get lost in Jon's eager attention and forget the frustrations of feeling typecast, silence the voice that whispered she'd never be more than what others saw when they looked at her. Yet another moan filled the air. Wendy refused to let herself be torn from this moment, to allow her body to be desired instead of hiding under the hope of being seen as something more.

Wendy's ocean-blue eyes fluttered shut as her body was racked with pleasure. She ran her fingers through Jon's shaggy hair, tugging him deeper. His runner's build might lack the imposing presence she'd been drawn to in past relationships, but he made up for it in stamina. Those early morning runs were paying off in ways he'd never thought possible.

"Don't stop, Jon," she whimpered, her voice shaking with her need. Her thighs quivered on either side of his face as she tugged him closer, her fingers in his hair tightening with urgency. She rotated her hips into him, her pleas becoming desperate as she chased her release.

The pressure built in her like a volcano ready to erupt. "Oh God, baby," she moaned, her voice rising with each word. "Just like that. ohhhh, fuuuuck!"

Her walls clamped down around his fingers as he greedily savored every drop of her release. Wendy's orgasm rocked the bedroom, causing the walls to quake. Mercilessly, Jon's hungry tongue continued pressing against her core until she pushed his lips off her now over-sensitive lips.

"No more, no more," she pleaded happily, fighting to regain her breath. Jon wiped his mouth with his forearm, his tender kisses peppering up her body before stopping at her neck. The tip of his length brushed against her clit, and she flinched from the overwhelming feeling, still hypersensitive from her intense orgasm. "Mmm baby." She pulled his lips to hers, savoring the faint, familiar taste left behind. "You are so good at that. You know how sensitive I get afterward."

She felt bad, she didn't want to deny him. She knew he was just as pent up as she was. She could feel it in the way his cock pulsed against her slick entrance. Her fingers found his sensitive sac, squeezing and teasing it with a soft touch. "We can keep going. I don't mind." She felt his sharp intake of breath as he nudged his hips forward causing her to squirm.

He pushed forward, feeling her walls relax around his shaft. Her orgasm had passed and her fiery grip had already started to cool. "No, it's fine." The subtle disappointment in his voice wasn't lost on Wendy. "It's not the same when you're not really into it."

He pressed a soft kiss to her lips before rolling onto his back. She bit the inside of her cheek, her own disappointment washing over her. She half wished Jon would just take her anyway, despite her body's reaction. Although, she certainly didn't mind the chill of the ceiling fan against her drenched skin, and the way it gave her overheated body instant relief.

"You know." Jon rolled to his side, brushing damp strands of hair from her face with tender familiarity. "You could always return the favor."

Her cheeks flushed at Jon's words. Wendy ran her fingers over the sprinkling of hair on his chest, buying time. "You know that isn't really my thing." She pressed a gentle kiss to his shoulder, trying to softening the rejection. "But tomorrow after work, I promise I'll make it up to you. I'll even initiate so we don't end up like this again."

The sincerity in her voice even surprised herself. She really wanted it to be different this time, to be the kind of wife who could match his dedication both in and out of the bedroom. Her limited experiences in college had left her wary - the unpleasant taste, the way her throat would constrict, fighting against her own reflexes. That one attempt with Jon early in their marriage had ended particularly badly, with her nearly getting sick after he finished unexpectedly in her mouth. Since then, they seemed to silently agree on not having her give him oral. He said it was no big deal to him; still, sometimes she saw that longing in his eyes when she'd decline.

Her fingers drummed on his chest: four quick taps, a childhood habit surfacing as she began to feel anxious. The rhythm steadied her racing thoughts, yet she detested the fact that the old compulsion returned. She'd thought she'd left it behind with her modeling career, but here it was again, rearing its ugly head every time she felt guilty.

"I'll hold you to that." He pressed a kiss to her head. "It's probably for the best anyway. Marcus wants me to review those reports before tomorrow's meeting." She watched his silhouette move across their bedroom, illuminated by the warm glow of his desk lamp filtering in from their home office.

"It must be nice having an executive see your worth." She bit the inside of her lip. She hadn't meant for her voice to have such an edge to it. Jon was great at his job; she wasn't questioning that. She just hated how easily the recognition seemed to come his way. She was just as hard-working, just as smart, but Jon was Marcus's golden boy.

"You're brilliant, Wendy." He leaned against the bedroom door, putting on his glasses. "Besides, at least you don't have to stress about the quarterly numbers."

Wendy's fingers tightened in her hair, pulling it into a ponytail as she tried forcing frustration aside; she knew that he didn't mean to be patronizing. "Thanks, babe." It came out more forced than she intended, but Jon didn't seem to notice as he admired her nude form... predictable. "I don't know how I got so lucky to find a guy like you."

"I could say the same thing." He blew her and kiss then turned and walked to the office.

Wendy reached for her silk nightie, the cold material clinging to her still-warm skin. The soft, cotton sheets were inviting as she settled back and watched the rhythmic sway of Jon's monitor light dance gently across their wall. She had her own presentation to finish, but for now, she allowed herself to drift in the quiet aftermath of their intimacy.

***

Jon watched out of the corner of his eye as Wendy dabbed at her lipstick in the visor mirror. She didn't wear much makeup, just enough to accent her natural beauty. Despite having been together for the last four years she still managed to take his breath away whenever he looked at her. He put his hand on her leg, the fabric of her navy blue maxi dress riding up just past her ankle.

"Do you think this neckline is too low?" She put her lipstick back in her clutch, adjusting the dress. She cursed her large chest. No matter what she wore, it always seemed to draw attention before anything else.

"You look beautiful," Jon said, squinting his eyes against the glare of the rising sun to turn and admire his wife. His blue button-down brought out the warmth in his brown eyes behind his thick-rimmed glasses; his striped tie was perfectly knotted at his throat. Always put-together, always proper.

"Thanks." Wendy shifted in her seat, nude heels clicking against the floorboard. "Though I'm starting to regret these shoes. The elevator better be working today."

"Relax, you're trying too hard. A big project will come your way soon." Jon's fingers tickled her knee. "You keep this up you're going to make me nervous."

"Right, your big analysis." She forced a smile. "You'll knock it out of the park. Marcus believes in you."

The modest three-story office building of Buckeye Branding Company came into view. Its brick façade was unremarkable among the other downtown Columbus businesses. Jon circled the crowded lot twice before finding a spot near the back.

"At least we're getting our steps in," he joked, but Wendy was already thinking about her aching feet.

Nervous energy buzzed through the office as they entered. The fourth quarter earning report was always one of the most tense meetings of the year. It was typically the one that would determine their end-of-year bonuses and set the tone for the new year. Jon spent most of the night working on the projections for some of their larger clients. No one in the office could see the numbers quite the way he could. He understood market shifts and projection analytics like very few. Numbers told him this was going to be another successful year, perhaps not buy a new house and plan an expensive vacation successful, but successful enough that he wasn't worried.

The fresh aroma of coffee pulled him from his reverie. He gave Wendy a quick kiss at the end of the hallway and then made his way to his office at the far end, while Wendy made her way to the cubicles with the other marketing specialists.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite beauty queen!" Ava called across the office as Wendy set her bag down.

Wendy's shoulders stiffened. "Model, actually. Not a pageant girl." Her tone was light and playful. Ava was one of her favorite people in the office. "And it was one magazine spread that left me feeling--"

"Now that's something I'd love to see." Michael's voice materialized behind her out of nowhere. His presence filled her cubicle, his expensive suit straining against his bulk. But not even the starched material, nor the designer label, could fully mask the way his shirt bunched at his waist, or how his tie accentuated the thick fold of skin around his chin. Sweat beaded on his hairline, despite the aggressive air conditioning of the office, and his thinning hair clung to his forehead. "I bet you were quite the centerfold."

Ava gagged. "Gross, Michael. It's too early for your creeper vibes."

Wendy laughed, but Michael's gaze made her bite it back. Something in the way he looked at her crawled under her skin. She waited until his footsteps retreated toward the break room before muttering, "Maybe if he spent less time harassing women and more time at the gym, he'd have better luck dating."

A sharp intake of breath from Ava told her she'd spoken too loudly. Wendy's stomach dropped as she caught Michael's frame stiffen in the doorway.

"Don't worry about me, sweetheart." His eyes raked over her figure with deliberate slowness. His tongue slid across his lips. "Some of us don't need luck when we have... other advantages." He adjusted his belt, making sure the women caught his inference without hitting them over the head with it.

"Gross." Ava shuddered as they gathered their notebooks. "I don't need that image in my head this morning." She held her hands wide apart, raising her eyebrows suggestively. "I can only imagine the type of women that find him attractive."

"Stop!" Wendy swatted her arm playfully. "You're terrible."

"That guy gives me the creeps. You'd think after three marriages he'd learn how to talk to women."

"I guess there's a reason they all ended in divorce."

Marcus's authoritative tone cut through the playful banter. "Conference room in five, everyone." He barely broke his pace as he passed. "We still need to get through the quarterly numbers if we are going to get out in time for the party tonight."

"Oh shit." Wendy gathered her things and started heading toward the conference room. "I totally forgot that was today."

"Please tell me you at least got your gift. Who'd you draw?"

Wendy groaned. "Jon. And after last night..."

"What happened last night?" Ava appeared at her side, clutching her notebook to her chest.

"It wasn't anything serious." Wendy hushed her voice, her face a shade redder. "I may have finished a little early. Like before he even got started." Ava's laughter made her bury her face in her hands.

"You're a one and done kind of girl too, huh?" Ava asked through her giggles. "When it happens with David I usually let him finish in my mouth. He loves it."

"Yeah, that's not really my thing." Wendy's face grew hotter; she immediately regretted starting this conversation.

"Girl!" Ava's eyes lit up with mischief. "This is perfect. Write him a sexy IOU. Tell him he gets one night where you'll do anything he wants, no questions asked." Her eyes locked with Wendy's "And you can't say no. It will make him feel more confident and get you out of your comfort zone you prude." She bumped Wendy with her hip. "Besides with Michael making comments like that all the time, you need to get used to working on your gag reflex."

"Ava!" Wendy glanced around the hallway. "I'm not a prude. I just know what I like and what I don't." She lowered her voice already feeling uncomfortable about having this type of conversation in the office. "Besides, if I wrote a note like that I would get fired."

"By who? Michael?" Ava waved her hand dismissively. "Please. And Marcus would never let him touch his golden boy's wife. Besides, it's Jon we're talking about. He'll read the first line, turn bright red, and stuff it in his shirt pocket before anyone notices."

Wendy laughed despite herself. "You're probably right. He still blushes when he sees me in my bra and panties."

Ava gave Wendy a playful once-over. "With boobs like that, I'd blush too."

They were still giggling as they entered the conference room, too caught up in their conversation to notice Michael standing just outside the door. His expression darkened as he absorbed every word. So that's what they thought of him, was it? He was just some gross divorcee that they couldn't look at without gagging. His fingers absently toyed with the Secret Santa assignments in his pocket. He'd show them who would be laughing soon enough.

***

Wendy leaned against the back wall of the conference room, fidgeting uncomfortably in her heels as the quarterly meeting wore on. Her conversation with Ava replayed in her head as the sound of chairs sliding across the tile floor bounced off the walls. A dozen chairs surrounded the heavy oak table, each occupied by department heads and project leaders, positions that felt increasingly out of reach.

Michael Reynolds occupied one end of the table with all the magnetism of a fifty-something man in his natural habitat. He learned long ago that power reigned over appearance and it gave him the assurance he needed to thrive. His salt-and-pepper hair and expanding waistband were worn like badges of honor for a man that knew his power stemmed far beyond from any appeal of flesh.

"The OSU account." He clicked to the next slide, his voice lowering with the slope of the graph. "We see a projected decline of about twelve percent. They've struggle in recent years, especially against their rivals, Michigan. Brand engagement is down across the board."

Wendy snapped awake from her fog. She had noticed the same trend in social media engagement and had gone as far as to mention it to Jon last night while he worked. But he simply dismissed it, scarcely glancing at her from his spreadsheets. Now Michael was confirming it, giving her an unrecognized sense of validation.

Others might have gotten drawn into a lengthy argument, but Jon's voice cut clean through her recollection. "My analysis shows something rather different." He put on his reading glasses and pulled up his own slides. "Considering the admissions rates, as well as population density and how far traditionally markets have stood the test of time."

"No, you're flat-out wrong," Michael interjected, commanding the space again leaving no place for argument. "Some of us know this market long enough to know the means of loyalty. While your... numbers," he hypnotized the term, making a display that such a concept could indeed be of zero interest, "may indeed be acoustically thorough, they fail to perceive a fundamental human aspect. The passion. The culture." His hand swept the air at time intervals serving up as if he were the quarterback chasing his chance of winning, with a deliberate measure for each gesture to command attention. "By all means, go ahead and explain sports marketing to someone who has been in this business since you were practicing long division.

The dismissive tone caused Wendy's stomach to clench. Her eyes met Michael's for a moment, a smirk forming on his lips when she didn't immediately look away. She crossed her arms over her chest, trying to shield herself from his knowing smirk. She'd seen that kind of casual dismissiveness before, in photographers who could reshape a room's energy with a single word, in directors who commanded without raising their voice. Jon's data-driven certainty suddenly felt naive in comparison.

"Numbers don't lie." Jon spoke with the same academic certainty that usually reassured her. He launched into a detailed analysis of demographic shifts and market penetration rates, his hands sketching graphs in the air. Wendy watched the room's eyes glaze over, even as her own mind caught the patterns he was missing. He didn't understand the emotional resonance of losing to a bitter rival, the wounded pride of longtime fans, the complex psychology that statistics couldn't capture. The same intuitive understanding that Michael had voiced minutes earlier, though the way he looked at her made her wish she didn't share his insight.

"Tell that to their season ticket holders." Michael's laugh was thunderous and Wendy found herself smirking despite herself. He was right. If Jon had listened to her last night then he wouldn't be getting embarrassed. Michael's fingers drummed against the table as Jon launched into a detailed analysis of demographic trends, and for a moment Wendy imagined herself at the table delivering the same speech but with similar data as Michael's. Was her analysis really better than Jon's? As good as the Director of marketing?

Another authoritative shout by Michael brought her back into the meeting. She watched the color rise in Michael's neck, his jaw clench in a way that made it seem like he was ready to fight to the death on this issue.

"The seasonal fluctuations show a clear correlation-" Jon began, but Michael cut him off with a wave.

"Tell me, Wendy," Michael's voice cut through the air, making her jump. Every head in the room turned to her. She was parched. People who didn't have a seat at the table typically didn't speak during these meetings.

"When creating social media content, do you read the reports on demographics first or take a pulse of the comments section?"