Here's a short story for you. There's no sex scene. As is often the case with me, my story shouldn't be taken seriously, just a few words put together to make people smile.
Edited by JonB1969.
Your votes and comments are welcome.
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Martha was getting ready for the awards ceremony organized by her employer Hendricks, Emerson, Lake & Palmer. There are no Hendricks or Palmer among the partners in the firm, but HELP sure looks catchy when you look in the Yellow pages under solicitors. However, they have a Hendricks working in the mailroom, and a Palmer who does the ground maintenance.
Every year, once the final audits are received, HELP awards certificates and bonuses to their best employees. Martha has been working there for the last 15 years, five as a bookkeeping clerk, then the last 10 years as the PA to the president, Jack Emerson himself.
Let me give you a little bit information about us. 45 years old, 5'10", B cups, and close cropped blond hair. As for my wife, she is 42 years old, 5'9", C+ cups and shoulder-length auburn hair. Lets just say that she is the looker in the family.
We have been married for the last 18 years and we can't have children. Well, I could spread my seed but Martha has a uterine defect.
Anyway, Martha was getting ready upstairs. She had her hair and nails done this afternoon and now was putting a last touch to her make-up and her gown. I have been ready for an hour, having only to shave and put on my tuxedo.
Martha finally came downstairs. She knew I would be sipping a brandy in the living room while waiting for her and that I would have a perfect view of her descent among the throng of Martha's worshipers (that's me).
She was a vision of dreams. Her dress was stopping just beneath her knees, showing off her perfect calves. Starting mid-tights, the dress was hugging her body so closely that it seems to be painted on her. She had a deep neck opening in the front and, when she turned around to show me the whole thing, almost her whole back was exposed. I swear I could almost see the start of her butt crack. And she was obviously wearing no underwear. Despite my uneasiness with this dress, I was now sporting a hard-on.
"So Honey," asked Martha. "How do I look?"
Many words went through my mind: 'slutty', 'whorish', but none that I could really say out-loud. But I had to be honest with my reaction-slash-erection.
"Sweetheart," I said. "You look like a million bucks."
She was beaming at the compliment. She came to me and placed a chaste kiss on my cheek.
"You are so sweet," she simply said.
And that was as effusive as she had been with me over the last couple of years. Yes, I am that dense. Two years before I realized that I wasn't registering anymore in the affective life of my wife. I swear she shows more affection toward our dog than toward me.
We heard somebody outside honking a horn. The limo was here. There's a lot of drinking in these gatherings so the firm was paying for limo service, or a room at the hotel where the evening was held.
Normally there is a bit of mingling before the formal dinner and the award ceremony starts just before dessert is served. We were a bit late and arrived only 30 minutes from the start of the dinner. We were not 10 seconds in the ballroom that Brad Lake was on Martha complimenting her, both laughing and giggling, totally ignoring me. Without a glance toward me, Lake grabbed Martha and dragged her toward the back of the ballroom.
They disappeared out of sight when they reached some flap doors at the end of the ballroom. I was about to follow them when Jack Emerson grabbed my arm.
"How nice to see you again Burt," he loudly told me.
I tried to disengage myself but he was having none of it. Emerson started to drag me toward the main VIP table, near the slightly raised dais where the awards would be delivered.
"Come sit with us," he said. "Martha and you are sitting at my table."
There was no resisting him, unless I was willing to be very rude in front of all the employees and many important clients. I quit pulling back when I saw a few employees disappearing through the same flap doors, including the young Pete, their IT guy with his hard rim glasses, pocket protector, pens and all. Pete was the son of a college friend. I had Martha give a good word to her employer to help him get this job a few months ago. I felt better knowing that he would keep an eye on Martha.
Ten minutes later, I was at the VIP table, engaged in conversation with Mrs. Emerson when Jack Emerson got up and walked toward the end of the ballroom. Like a perfect choreography, he went through the flap doors and Brad Lake came out.
Many of you will know what Lake had on his face... Yes, the famous smirk that is so very telling. A smirk he kept on his face only for me. It disappeared as he sat and excused himself to the boss' wife for his absence. His smirk reappeared when he turned toward me.
"So Burt," he said. "Martha looks stunning this evening. How is your evening so far?"
"It started with a bang, Brad!" I lied. I turned toward him and lowered my voice. "Not five minutes before we came in Martha gave me one of her expert blow-jobs."
The smirk left Lake's face.
"As a matter of fact," I continued, "I will have to remind her to brush her teeth later. I wouldn't want to kiss her and have to swallow all my little swimmers she probably still has swarming in her mouth." I gave Lake a wink.
It took a few seconds for the implication of my words to register then Lake turned around and barfed all over the floor near the table.
I started to pat Lake gently on the back.
"It's alright buddy!" I said loudly. "Let it all go and you will feel better."
A few dozen people were turned toward us, many with surprise written all over their face and quite a few with a disgusted look. With my thumb to my lips, I mimicked somebody drinking to the assembled crowd. Lake would probably receive a few disapproving looks during the evening.
