Author's notes: Warning! This is a cuckold story, albeit a different kind of cuckold story, one with no humiliation of the husband and one which shows character growth in the end. I have attempted to write an erotic story, rather than a pornographic one. This is not a Whack off story, but it does have a lot of sex in the last part.
#When I first submitted to Literotica, my goal was to improve my writing skills to the point I could one day sell stories. Thanks to your constructive comments, I have reached that goal, but with minor success. I invite your criticisms and suggestions, anything that will help increase that success. Thanks-thecarolinadreamer
#My sincere thanks to "Oscar", who provided the Spanish phrases and encouragement along the way. All characters are over eighteen and the entire story is fictional. Any similarity to actual persons is coincidental.
*****
"Hey, Ben, you seen the new gal in the office yet?" Ben hadn't seen Larry, the would-be cock-hound, this excited since the last clerk had been hired.
"Not yet. How does she look—pretty?"
"Not too bad for an older lady. Hair is almost auburn, wears it shoulder length, probably in her late thirties, shape you'd dream about," he used both hands to outline a shapely female body, "and EYES—man you should see those eyes. Brown, but not just any brown. Man! Those things sparkle when she smiles and the skin around them sort of wrinkles up and you wish you could just sit and stare all day." Larry was talking so fast others in the area were beginning to notice.
"Calm down. You sound liked you did when Mary Beth Harley, the Homecoming Queen, agreed to let you take her to the prom." Ben remembered how sure Larry was that he'd finally get a little bit. He had gotten so excited—just about like he was now, so he'd probably get the same results as he got back then.
Ben and his date had been parked less than two car lengths behind Larry and Mary Beth. It was a hot night, the windows were down and he clearly heard Mary Beth tell Larry to stop. Of course Larry was too full of himself to listen, and the next sound Ben heard was a loud slap and a demand to be taken home. Larry's old Ford convertible tore up the grass getting out of there. Later, when Larry bragged about 'doing' Mary Beth three times, Ben had just played along.
"Yeah, and I bet I could make her squeal, just like I did Mary Beth."
"No doubt," Ben could hardly suppress his smile. "You ask her yet?"
"Man, you don't know this chick," Larry shook his head and continued, "She acts like she's Royalty or something. I couldn't get more than two words out of her when I introduced myself." He indicated the other men in the lab with a wave of his hand. "I wanted to get the jump on these other stiff dicked studs but..."
"What were the two words?" This from a workbench a couple rows over. "Fuck you?"
"No Man, you'd never hear that word out of this chick's mouth. Man, I'm telling you, she's high class—Government Inspected Grade-A-Meat." Larry looked around the room, trying to catch each man's eyes. "You guys gotta see this gal. I'm telling you; she acts like a dick wouldn't melt in her mouth."
"You men better stop worrying about which mouth your dicks would melt in and concentrate on keeping food in yours." No one had heard Mr. Johnson, the Section Foreman, walk up.
"You've seen her, haven't you, Boss?" Larry just didn't know when to shut up. "Tell them; tell them how fine she is."
Mr. Johnson just shook his head before calling the section together. "You men just as well get the news straight before you start hearing rumors; this company has been sold to a Spanish family. That 'hot chick' you just heard Larry rave about is none other than Mrs. Geronimo, the wife of one the owners. Her first name is Irene, but I don't recommend you use it unless she asks you to."
"At this moment, Oscar Geronimo, her husband, is over in the main office getting to know every detail of the operation from that angle. Mrs. Geronimo's job is to learn what happens down here in the trenches. It's to our advantage to see that she likes what she sees."
"Sheet, Boss," the unknown voice piped up, "what's not to like about us?"
"Okay—it's your asses. I can retire anytime. Get back to work. All except you, Jones; you come with me." Surprised, Ben followed him over to the main supervisor's office, wondering how he'd screwed up.
Entering the office area, he tried to spot this new angel/devil that was supposed to have appeared on the scene. She wasn't sitting with the rest of the clerks; maybe she had an office to herself.
After getting both of them a cup of coffee, Mr. Johnson got right down to business. "Ben," he said, "you are going to be a major factor in the success or failure of this company under the new owners. You know the operation as well as anyone, so until further notice you will be Mrs. Geronimo's personal guide and assistant. You'll work for her and answer to no one else, but you damn sure better keep her happy. Show her what she wants to see, and take her where she wants to go. To paraphrase the old saw, when Mrs. Geronimo ain't happy, ain't nobody happy."
With that said, he led Ben into the great lady's office. She was sitting with her back to the door, studying what appeared to be a report. Ben did a double take when she turned for the introduction. This woman was everything Larry had claimed and then some. She rose to meet him with a reserved, yet somehow friendly smile, and when she did, Ben understood what Larry meant about her eyes; they made an otherwise attractive woman, absolutely gorgeous.
"Please call me Irene," she said, and the sound of her voice made Ben think of the Angel Choir scene in a movie he once saw. If he wasn't in love he was at least in lust.
The next three weeks were like rush week at college. Ben and Irene put in twelve hour days, pausing only for a bite from the canteen when Irene felt the need to eat. She told Ben to speak up if he got hungry, but he wasn't about to admit she could do anything he couldn't do. Finally, at the end of a long Saturday, the rat race ended.
"You have done a great job, Ben." Irene gave him that million dollar smile. "You deserve a reward." Over the last weeks Ben had begun to think she really liked him. More than once, as they sat close together going over papers, their thighs touched and when Ben rubbed against hers just a little more than necessary, she hadn't flinched. In fact, she had begun coming out of her shell and even started laughing and joking a bit.
"Do you know a good place to eat; a place with good food, where a girl can get a decent wine, and maybe dance a bit?" Irene asked. They had finally quit work at mid-afternoon Saturday.
"If you don't mind country music and call steak so tender it falls apart in your mouth good food, O Henry's can't be beat."
"Suena bien, think we can get reservations for around eight?"
Ben chuckled. "Lady," he said, "they wouldn't know what a reservation was if one hit them in the face. You just get there at eight, you'll get a seat."
"Genial! I'll meet you there at eight, my friend. I suppose a causal dress will be fine. I can't wait to get out of this business suit and into something that makes me feel like a woman."
"Just don't get too formal. When I say country, I mean country—boots wide belt buckles and all."
*****
Irene breathed a sigh of relief as they parted. Things had gone better than hoped for. The plant could remain mostly as it was and still make a profit. She had really been impressed with Ben. He would remain her right hand man as long as she and Oscar remained in this country, and when she left, she fully expected Ben to play a major role in continuing operations.
She remembered the day Ben had first been introduced to her. She recalled thinking, "Uauu, esto si es un hombre!" If I decide to make Oscar's fantasy about seeing me with another man to come true, I'm looking this fellow up.
The following weeks did nothing to dissuade her opinion. Ben was hard working, dependable, yet he was full of fun. Best of all, he didn't push on her. She was quite reserved by nature, notwithstanding her persona as a slave driver on the job. Gradually Ben had wormed his way into her confidence; now she would even flirt a little when nobody else was around.
She smiled when she thought about how sparks seemed to fly, for her at least, the first time they touched—really touched. They had been sitting close together, going over some figures, when she twisted in her chair, causing her leg to rub against Ben's; the next thing she knew, his hand was resting on top of her leg with his fingers extending down to her inner thigh. She'd jumped in surprise, but Ben didn't move his hand, and for some reason, she didn't push it away. They just continued to sit, legs pressed together, Ben's fingers gently stroking her inner thigh, while they checked the report for errors. Anyone walking into the office would just see two people, hard at work. From that point things had advanced to the point where she looked forward to the times when Ben touched her body, and Ben had touched her often, albeit seemingly innocent.
Finally, last night things went further than ever before. They were walking to their cars in the dimly lit parking lot. Ben was lightly guiding her around the potholes when she stepped in one. Except for Ben's quick reaction, she'd have sprawled flat on her face. "Ay, que me caigo" she muttered, but Ben's strong arms stopped her fall before she even skinned a knee.
