The intercom on Sam's phone buzzed, immediately followed by Jenna's stern voice barking, "Sam. In my office. NOW!"
Sam gulped as his heart sank in fear of his boss' harsh words. But he found his deep and commanding voice at the ready, as he pushed the button and replied, "Yes, Jenna. I will be right there." He straightened his tie, made a half-hearted attempt at running his fingers through his medium-length brown hair, and fearfully made his way down the hall.
Jenna was 18 years his senior, though she still exuded immense sexual heat. She was 5'7", dark brown hair and eyes, long, muscular legs, and C-cups that almost always demanded to be noticed through her professional attire.
Sam had many a-time imagined bringing Jenna to
his
office and forcing her over his desk, hiking her just-too-short skirt above her waist, ripping her panties off, and thrusting his 9" cock deep into her repeatedly until she came under him. And he often held this vision in his head as he was doing similar acts to many of the female office staff. The females Sam commanded in his office were always willing to comply, as he stood a healthy 6'1", rock solid, shaved chest, and trimmed nether regions.
But this was not one of those times. This was Sam going to Jenna's office. And she sounded pissed. Really pissed. Sam tried to redirect his thoughts about what could've set Jenna off, but he came up empty. And try as he might, he could not keep his mind from wondering what she was wearing today.
He knocked firmly but softly on her door, and heard the abrupt, "Enter!" come from within. He opened Jenna's door and closed it behind him, noticing Jenna standing to the right of her desk, facing him, a stern look upon her face. Sam quickly took in her full appearance. He hoped she didn't notice. She wore a too-short-but-not-inappropriate straight black skirt, black stockings, 4" black heels. At the top was a white button-down blouse, crisp, with the top two buttons undone. Also, not inappropriate; however, Sam could make out what appeared to be a black bra underneath. He felt his cock stir and willed it to not make a showing at this meeting.
Sam's glance at Jenna took less than a second, and it simultaneously occurred with her ordering him to "Sit!", motioning to the chair in front of her desk. Sam strode across her office and deposited himself in her chair, both internally arguing with his non-listening cock and wondering what Jenna's problem was.
They were in the same advertising firm, and Sam was heading up the large beer account, getting ready for the Super Bowl roll-out. He was very proud of this campaign, and he knew it was in the bag. So
that
couldn't be her problem. In fact, the more he considered the campaign and his pride, the less his cock responded and the more
cocky
he became. There was nothing to set Jenna off; therefore, no need to be fearful. He was very detailed at his job, which is why he was in line to become partner. He glanced up at Jenna with confidence and looked unfearingly into her eyes.
She glared down at him. "Anything go wrong in the mock-ups, Sam?" an eyebrow raised.
"No," came the immediate answer.
So THIS was it?
he wondered. Absolutely nothing to fear. He went over them and knew them solidly. Was she just testing his convictions in order to determine if she were going to vote for him as partner? Jenna was the youngest ever-female or male-to become partner in the firm, and she would be voting soon on the next candidate.
"Really," eyebrow still raised.
"Y-yes," Sam said, trying to retain his conviction but getting an increasing sense of trepidation at her firmness. She appeared to know something he didn't, and that made him very uneasy.
"Take a look at the storyboard in front of you, Sam," she hissed, pointing to the layout on her desk.
He immediately leaned forward and scanned the familiar ad. He saw nothing wrong with it.
"Do you see a problem with it,
Sam
?" she asked, nearly spitting out his name.
Sitting back in his chair, looking up at her, he licked his lips and replied, "No, Jenna," hoping his voice sounded like hers.
"Really." She paused, watching him squirm in his seat, before revealing the flaw. "How do you spell beer,
Sam
?"
"B-E-E-R", he replied quickly, pulse racing.
Fuck, I know there's nothing wrong! Is there?
He dared not look again, but Jenna pointed to the storyboard, demanding his eyes follow her finger.
"And how is it spelled here,
Sam
?"
The way she kept emphasizing his name was unnerving. It was like she were scolding a child. He could feel his blood start to boil with rage-how dare she talk to him this way? But then he focused on the storyboard, and there, in four-color print, was the word "bear" instead of "beer".
