"You mean to tell me, she went down on you that quick? She sucked your cock all night?" queried Ed as he adjusted himself in his chair.
"Yeah. All night. Like I said, she loves sucking cock. It really turns her on to have some guy's cock in her mouth. He doesn't even have to be hard; she enjoys a soft dick almost as much as a hard one. She likes a challenge, if you know what mean."
"Hmm, I see. Okay, then what?"
"Back in my motel room, I quickly shit, showered, and shaved. Everything was going smoothly until it came to tying the tie. Try as I might, it just wouldn't come out right. Finally, with a misshaped knot, I almost had the tail shorter than the front. "Fuck it," I cursed. "This will have to do."
The reception area for the Southwest Divisional office of Tylock Industries is very impressive. With high ceilings and marbled walls, the large room is graced with sculptures and Persian rugs. Walking up to the front desk, I was greeted by an absolutely stunning looking woman. The scent of her expensive perfume filled my nostrils and had its intended effect. Prying my eyes from her generous display of cleavage I stammered, "I'm George Zinter. I'm here to see Mr. Ed Bailey."
"Nice to meet you George! I'm Demona!" she said flashing a mouth full of brilliantly white and perfect teeth. Her coiffure was equally perfect, a flowing full main of curly blonde hair. Her green eyes sparkled, set off by her perfectly applied makeup. "We've been expecting you. May I get you a cup of coffee?"
"Uh, sure," I said. The coffee at the Holiday Inn had left a lot to desired and being a coffee junkie, I needed a fix.
"What do you like in it?"
"Just black."
"Okay, I'll be right back. Make yourself comfortable."
She stood and I got a good look at her curvaceous body. She was dressed to kill, in a slinky, low cut dress with a slit up her right thigh. With the grace of a cat, she walked away in her high-heels, with a walk like that of a model on a runway. Her ass cheeks literally quaked with each step. She was obviously a high maintenance sort of girl. I couldn't help but utter a low whistle in appreciation.
I found a seat on one of the sofas and soon she was back, walking towards me. This time her tits quaked with each step, but she didn't spill a drop of coffee. As she leaned over to hand me the coffee, I got an eyeful down her dress and a good view of her unrestrained big tits. She lingered for a moment, obviously enjoying the effect she having on me, before returning behind the twenty-foot wide reception desk.
She picked up the phone, looked towards me and said, "Mr. Bailey will see you now."
I stood as she walked back around the expansive desk. I followed her to the door, where she turned. A frown spread across her face. "That won't do. That won't do at all," she said as she tried to straighten my tie. In a moment, all my hard work that morning was undone. "Here let me help you," she purred.
Demona moved behind me. Reaching around my chest, she began retying my tie, flashing a rock on her finger that was so big that it had to be a fake. All the while I could smell her perfume and felt her massive bosoms pressing into my back. Her tits were hard, unnaturally hard, and I guessed that she had had a silicon job. All too soon, she had accomplished her task. "There, that's better," she said with satisfied smile.
I met with Ed. Middle-aged, he was gregarious and a bit of bad boy, commenting on the good-looking eye candy that was Tylock's silicon-enhanced receptionist. I had to agree, she was indeed a delight to behold. After a pleasant chat, he sent me off to HR, where I was assigned my office, filled out reams of papers, given a handful of corporate credit cards and told that with my position, that I was entitled to a company car.
I had a car, my '66 Mustang GT. It was a great car, a car that turned heads, a screaming machine when I pushed it, and a car that opened a lot of legs for me. I was told that I could go to the Chevrolet dealer or Ford dealer and pick out a full sized four-door sedan. I could have it equipped as I liked, but within certain guidelines.
The frown on my face must have been apparent as the HR dude offered, "We had an upper manager leave us a few weeks ago. He was driving a BMW. It's got some miles on it, but... as I see it, the trade-in value is less than cost of a new Crown Victoria. Financially, it's a wash. I'll have to check with Mr. Bailey and if he says okay, you can have it if you want it."
A BMW? Do I look like an idiot? "Sure, that would be just fine!"
After my first encounter with the wonderful folks in HR, I was escorted to my office. I was introduced to Sandy, my red-headed pool secretary and she showed me where to find pencils and other essentials.
I spent the rest of the morning meeting my coworkers and getting my pencils sharpened. At lunch, I was invited to join Ed Bailey and my Project Manager, Jim Sales. Much to my delight, Demona the receptionist was invited along too. It think I might have mentioned it, but she is a good looking cunt! Walking into the club, all eyes were on her, a fact that Ed obviously relished.
At lunch Ed told me that if I wanted it, the BMW was mine. Then he asked Jim Sales to brief me on the project I was to be assigned to while Ed bantered and flirted with Demona. On the return trip to the office, Ed told me that after Jim was finished briefing me back at the office, to take the afternoon off and look around for a place to live.
My first day at work was great. My biggest dilemma was which car to drive home, my vintage Mustang or the BMW. After locating the dark green BMW in the parking garage, I switched cars, parking the red Mustang in the garage and heading out in the BMW. I must admit, BMW makes a fine driving machine. It didn't take me long to appreciate the outstanding qualities of German engineering at it's best. The Beemer was a thoroughbred stallion, quick and responsive.
I quickly realized that my beloved Mustang was by comparison, a dinosaur. Not the big lumbering kind, but like a Velociraptor. It was still a dinosaur, but a fast, mean, muscle bound SOB of a dinosaur that I would never part with.
When I got back to the motel, I dropped by the front desk to see Kaylee. She was talking to the manager and seeing me she greeted formally, "Good afternoon Mr. Vinter!"
"Hi. Come outside and see what I got."
Kaylee followed me out into the parking lot where I proudly showed off my nearly new 530i.
"Oh wow!" she exclaimed. "They gave you that?"
"Yeah! Cool, huh?"
"Well Mr. Vinter, I can see that you weren't full of it last night. You are indeed an important man. By the way, I love the suit, you look great!"
"Thanks."
I followed her back into the lobby where she reported to the manager that there was indeed trash in the parking lot.
Gruffly he said, "Take care of it, " and then disappeared into the office behind the check-in desk.
I hung around for a minute before Kaylee chastised me. "You can't stay here in the lobby."
"Why not?"
"Okay, you can stay, but I can't talk to you."
"Why not?"
"I've got a job, silly! I can't hang around fraternizing with the guests; it's not very professional. So go take a swim, watch a movie or whatever."
"What time do you get off?"
"Ten."
"Ten?"
"I told you that. Monday through Thursday I work until ten."
"Damn, I was hoping..."
"Shhhh! Look, things usually get a little slow around here after eight. We can talk then. Go do something until eight and then come around. I'll be alone until Pete, the night manager, arrives. "
"Okay, sure babe."
"Don't call me babe, not here...it's not very professional."
