Discovering Christina

For --C--

*

"Shit! I've got to get over to the CPA's by Monday and sign that damned quarterly estimated tax form." It's funny how the strangest things pop into your mind—even when you're in the process of getting a really good blow job.

Jackie certainly knew what she was doing in that department, and she'd been perfecting her skills on me for the past six months—a little perk I was learning to enjoy from my administrative assistant. I looked down and admired the thick mane of dark brown hair that partially covered Jackie's pretty face as she concentrated on the job at hand.

But suddenly, as if she knew that I'd lost my focus a bit, she looked up at me with those big brown eyes, slowly eased my hard cock out from between her full red lips, and began to lick sensuously along the length of my shaft with her very talented tongue.

"Mmmmmm, you're so good, baby."

"I know it, Mr. D," she purred. "I've been told that many times." And with that, she took just the tip of her tongue and began to lick very lightly on that exquisitely sensitive spot just underneath the head. "Oh, so you like that, do you?" she teased as the head swelled reflexively from the intense sensation.

My knees began to feel weak and I leaned back to steady myself on the edge of my desk, which was cluttered with the remnants of a hard week's work. It was late Friday afternoon, and Jackie and I were enjoying an end-of-week ritual that we'd started about a year after she began working for me.

I reached down and began to run my fingers through her thick hair and used the other hand to caress her cheek. She responded by cupping my balls in her hand and massaging them gently. By this time she had taken me inside her mouth again and was slowly bobbing her head up and down, making my shaft slick and wet with her saliva and bringing me closer and closer to orgasm.

Then, just to tease me a little more, she eased my shaft from her mouth and held the tip a few inches above her outstretched tongue. She allowed three or four drops of precum to drip onto her tongue before taking me back inside. The way she seemed to savor every inch, every taste of me brought me right to the edge. It took all my concentration and effort to hold on just a little longer to these incredible sensations.

Jackie's blouse had somehow managed to come unbuttoned during the course of events, and I watched as she used one hand to lift first one, then the other of her full breasts from her low-cut bra and pinch each nipple in turn. All the while, she never missed a beat with her other hand, which was slowly gliding up and down my shaft as she swirled her soft tongue around the head.

I closed my eyes so I could focus on the wonderful sensation that was building in me. It was an itching, almost burning that started at the base of my cock and began to slowly climb upward with each stroke of Jackie's talented hand. My legs grew stiff and I could feel my balls tighten, signaling that I was very close. My hands tightened their grip on Jackie's hair and I began to pull her toward me, even as I bucked my hips to meet her eager mouth as she took me completely inside over and over again.

I was literally fucking her mouth by this time, wanting nothing more than to explode in her and feel the release from this aching she had created. "I'm cumming!" I hissed between clinched teeth, as I pulled Jackie tight to me and held her there as one, then two, then three jets of cum erupted into her mouth. "Oh fuck, oh fuuuuckkk," I whispered to no one in particular.

As she felt the first burst hit the back of her throat, Jackie began to move her hand up and down my shaft as fast as she could, while keeping the head between her lips. She began to suck and I felt a jolt of electricity shoot from the base of my spine out to the tip of every extremity. She sucked and sucked, and seemed to draw every last bit of the thick, creamy liquid out of my now softening member.

By this time my legs had turned to jelly, and I literally had to hold onto my desk for support. My breathing was rapid and my heart was pounding. I was experiencing yet another of the wonderful orgasms that Jackie knew just how to elicit. "Oh, baby, how do you do that to me every time?" I asked, not expecting an answer.

"Because I know just how to handle Mr. Happy there," she laughed, as she gave it a little kiss, then stood up and began to put her clothing back together.

"What are you doing?" I asked. "Don't you want me to return the favor?"

"Not tonight, Mr. D. Marvin's getting home tonight, and he'll give me all the fun I can handle." Marvin was Jackie's boyfriend of five years. He was a long-haul trucker and was gone sometimes two weeks at a stretch. He lived with Jackie when he was in town and the rest of the time in the sleeper cab of his truck.

"That man's always so horny when he comes in off the road, I'll be walking funny when you see me Monday morning."

"One more thing. Why do you insist on calling me 'Mr. D.'? I've asked you to call me Ross about a dozen times."

"Oh, Mr. D., I think we should keep our relationship strictly business. Don't you?" With that, Jackie ran her tongue exaggeratedly around her lips, gave me a wink, and headed for the door.

I couldn't do anything except sit there on the corner of my desk with my trousers still around my ankles, and laugh. "Okay, sexy, have a great weekend. And tell Marvin hello for me."

"Will do," she said over her shoulder as she headed out the door. I couldn't help but watch as she left. Jackie had the most perfect bottom I'd ever seen, and she loved to show it off in the tight skirts and pants that she always wore in the office.

******* I knew Monday morning would roll around soon enough, but not before I'd endured another long weekend. My hometown of Durham was a small place, population around 15,000, if you counted the few thousand students at the local college. Over the years, seems as if I'd dated most of the eligible women in town, and some like Jackie who weren't exactly eligible.

I'd had my share of fun, but I'd never found a relationship that filled the need inside me that I couldn't quite describe. So, there I was . . . late 40's, never married, and living like a hermit when it came to my social life.

I guess I'm an attractive-enough guy. I'm on the tall side at 6-1 and still weigh the same 175 pounds that I did when I graduated from Midwestern State University 25 years ago. It takes a lot more effort to keep myself even slightly toned these days. My dark brown hair is beginning to get grey around the temples, but that's supposed to make a man look distinguished, right? Right.

I hadn't planned to be living in Durham at nearly 50 years of age. In fact, I hadn't planned on living here at all after I left for college. But things didn't quite work out as I'd expected. My parents were killed in a car wreck a few months before I graduated from Midwestern, and being an only child, it fell to me to try and pick up the pieces of two lives that had ended so unexpectedly.

My father had been a homebuilder in town—he'd been responsible for most of the custom houses that had been built in Durham. And he'd also invested in some commercial real estate, picking up some good buys on several rundown buildings in the downtown area. I'd worked for him as a kid and had picked up enough of the business to be able to keep things going after their death, even though it was incredibly painful at times.

But as I began to get the feel of things, I looked up and realized that five years had passed, then ten, and I'd settled in, perhaps a bit too comfortably, to the slow pace of my small hometown. I even managed to rehab those old downtown buildings my father had taken a chance on, and actually did pretty well on them. I sold two for a nice profit to the oldest bank in town because the chairman of the board decided to do his part to reclaim the downtown area by locating their headquarters there.

The other one I kept for myself. I fixed up the first floor, used part of it for my office and leased out the rest to a little coffee shop that has done surprisingly well. But it's the second floor that I'm really proud of. For some reason, I got this wild hair and decided to turn it into a loft apartment and move into it myself. People still think I'm crazy to live above my business when I could have a really nice house built by one of my crews. But I like the urban feel of it, and the space is just perfect for a single guy like me.

For most of my years in business, I'd financed my projects through United National, the bank that bought the two downtown buildings from me. My father had banked there, and they were really good to me when I was trying to pick up the pieces after my parents' death. Besides, as it turned out, my best friend all through school went to work there after college and rapidly worked his way up to executive vice president. By the time he was 30, he was president and chief operating officer.

His meteoric rise into upper management was not all that surprising. Jeff Masters was a bright, charismatic and very likeable guy. He also married the bank chairman's daughter—a move that probably worked out better from a career standpoint than a personal one.

So, there I was the next Monday morning, walking the two blocks to the bank to talk with Jeff about financing my next project.

******

I'd known Masters ever since the two of us started to first grade at Thomas Jefferson Elementary. He and I got paired up by the teacher to walk together to lunch that first day, and we'd been good friends ever since.

The two of us had a lot of fun over the years, especially when we were in high school. We had our share of double dates and enjoyed a lot of "firsts" together. By the time he was 18, Jeff was a big, strapping kid, probably 6-2, 190, with blonde hair and blue eyes. He lifted a lot of weights and had the physique of an athlete, which he most certainly was. His senior year, he made all-state in football, and also starred in basketball and baseball at Durham High.

With those attributes, Jeff had no trouble attracting women. And I was all too pleased to be there to enjoy some of the action, as well. I called Jeff the "rainmaker" because wherever we went, he'd always manage to hook us up with the two best looking women in the room. I didn't mind at all that Masters got first crack at the best looking one. The "rejects" were real fine, too.

Not that I had a lot of trouble meeting women myself. I was an athlete, too, but concentrated on basketball. Masters and I took turns earning scoring honors during most of the basketball games our senior year. And the women didn't seem to mind my dark brown hair and brown eyes. Together, we were quite a pair. But I never minded Jeff taking the lead, because he seemed to need it so.

After high school, we surprised everyone by going our separate ways. Jeff had a scholarship offer to play football at Southern State, the small college located in Durham. I, on the other hand, couldn't wait to see some new territory and opted to attend Midwestern State University, a much larger school 200 miles away. The year was 1977, before cell phones and internet access. It just wasn't as easy to stay in touch as it is today. Besides, guys are notoriously bad at maintaining long-distance relationships (unless phone sex is involved). We pretty much lost contact after that because Jeff was so involved with football and my trips home were infrequent.

Every now and then my mother would send me a clipping from the home town newspaper that described some of Jeff's exploits—usually football related. But during my senior year, I was surprised to read that Jeff was engaged to Mary Sue Wilson, one of the "good" girls in high school that we never had much interest in. Oh, she was good looking enough, but she had this standoffish air about her. She just seemed a little older and, at least in her mind, more sophisticated than the rest of us.

Mary Sue came by that attitude naturally. She was the daughter of the richest people in Durham. It was old money, too, at least as defined in our little town. Her great grandfather had founded the local bank the same year the town was established, and over the years, it had developed into the dominant financial institution in our part of the state. More recently, they'd expanded with branches in 25 cities spread across two states. As successful as it was, the bank was only the base of the Wilson family's financial empire, which also included large real estate holdings, farming and ranching operations, and insurance.

Because the Durham bank was "home base" for the Wilson financial empire, the family lived in the community. And they tried to maintain a relatively low profile in Durham. I suppose they didn't want people to realize how much money the bank was making. But they lived very well when they were out of town, with homes in Colorado and Arizona, and frequent trips abroad. I always had the idea that Mary Sue would rather live somewhere else—with her more sophisticated friends.

But somehow, she had ended up in Durham, just like my friend Masters, going to Southern State. Perhaps she liked being a big fish in a little pond after all. It was only natural that she and Jeff eventually linked up, with her being the big woman on campus and he the quarterback on the football team.

I was a little hurt that he didn't ask me to be his best man, given we had known each other for so long. But it was true we hadn't been as close during our college years, and one of his football teammates filled that role, along with about six other buddies who paired up with Mary Sue's sorority sister bridesmaids. As it turned out, with my parents' death right before the wedding, I was grateful not to have to worry with being a part of it. It was hard enough just to go.

It was quite the shindig, with Mary Sue's parents sparing no expense to start their only daughter—only child, in fact—out in married life with the biggest wedding the town had ever seen. After a honeymoon in Hawaii, Jeff and Mary Sue moved into the new home that the Wilsons had provided for them, and Masters took his new position at the bank. It looked like he was ready to live the good life.

Despite his rapid rise professionally, Masters soon found that Mary Sue was not that easy to live with. What a surprise! She was used to having things her way and that didn't change with marriage. But he enjoyed his job at the bank and the lifestyle it provided. And he knew that if Mary Sue were out of the picture, he would be, too as far as the bank was concerned. Jeff may have been President and Chief Operating Officer, but now, with both her parents gone, his wife was Chairman and CEO. Enough said.

******

"Can I help you, sir?"

I walked into Masters' reception area at the bank with my nose in some of the drawings I was planning to go over with him and at first didn't see the young woman who was sitting where Jeff's long-time assistant, Shirley, was normally stationed.

"Oh, hi there," I offered, a little flustered at encountering a new face in a bank where I pretty much knew everyone. And a beautiful face it was!

"Are you Mr. Daniels?" she asked in a very businesslike fashion. "Mr. Masters is expecting you." She stood up from her desk and extended her hand. "My name's Christina. I'm going to be working as Mr. Masters' assistant for a few months while Shirley's on medical leave."

"Nice to meet you, Christina," I responded, finally collecting my thoughts and focusing. I shook her hand and smiled. "I'm sure Mr. Masters is grateful to you for filling in like this."

If I knew Masters, he was more than grateful. He was ecstatic. Christina was a beautiful girl, probably no more than 21 or 22. She had shoulder-length blonde hair and big blue eyes. And her smile was just electric. It sort of drew you in and let you know that this is a girl you'd enjoy getting to know.

She was wearing a tight black skirt and white silk blouse, cut perhaps just a little lower in the neckline than one would normally expect to see on an employee at the conservative United National Bank. But it was as if the blouse was just made for Christina. It hugged her full, round breasts and showed just a hint of cleavage. She had full lips that naturally formed into a sensuous pout. Her fingernails were painted a bright red, and as I let my eyes drift a little lower, I could tell her toenails matched by the couple that were visible in her open toed shoes. She probably was just a little over five feet, but appeared taller because of her high heels. They must have been at least four inches . . . once again pushing the limits of the United National dress code. But they certainly did show off her shapely legs, and I doubted Masters would complain about it.

"I see you've met Christina," Jeff said as he walked from his office into the reception area. His voice caused me to look up after I had probably already looked at Christina a little too long.

"Oh, yes," she's very efficient and professional," I stumbled, trying to hide the fact that I'd been thinking of her in quite different terms.

"Come on in, Ross," let's talk some business. And with that we retired to Jeff's office and each took a seat at his small round conference table. I started spreading my drawings out on the table, preparing to go over the new project, when I realized Masters was looking at me with this huge smile on his face. "So you like my new assistant, huh?"

"Was it that obvious?" I responded, a little embarrassed.

"Yeah, quite obvious."

"Well, ignoring for a minute the fact that she's probably young enough to be my daughter, I'm assuming you have the inside track on any hanky panky that might go on."

Masters just shook his head. "Wouldn't I love that. But she's Mary Sue's cousin's daughter. She just graduated from college and needed a job, so I hired her to fill in for Shirley for a few months," he explained. "And Mary Sue would cut my nuts off if I laid one hand on her."

"That's funny," I said, trying to hide a smile, "I thought Mary Sue cut those off a long time ago. I heard she keeps them in a jar on the mantel."

"Fuck you, Daniels. You're not sounding much like a man who came here to borrow money. You'd better start treating your banker with a little more respect."

We spent the next hour going over the plans and drawings for the new commercial development I was planning on the highway just south of town. Durham was growing in that direction, and I was sure that a strip shopping center would do well, given the amount of traffic that would be passing by that location in the coming years.

Apparently Masters agreed. We shook hands on the deal and that was it. We'd known each other long enough that a handshake was enough for the two of us. Of course, a lot more documentation was needed for the bank auditors. "I'll get all the papers together in a few days and get them down to you," he said, as he walked me to his office door.

"Oh, Christina," Masters said as we reached the reception area. "Would you mind taking Mr. Daniels down to the board room and showing him the renovations we just finished? I'd do it but I'm late for an appointment, and I know he'd love to see it."

"I'll be glad to," Christina responded, flashing that wonderful smile again.

"You do have time, don't you, Ross?" Masters asked, already sure of the answer.

"I'll make time," I responded with a wink.

And with that, Christina led me across the bank lobby to the open staircase on the other side. I couldn't help but notice how that skirt just hugged her nice round bottom, which was wonderfully accentuated by those high heels. I tried to be discreet as I followed her up the stairs, but I was definitely not thinking at that moment about the new board room.

Once we entered the room, Christina began pointing out some of the new features that had been included in the renovation, and I was impressed by how articulate and, well, mature she was. But, every now and then she'd say something straight out of her generation's lexicon and I was reminded again of her true age.