Jessicas Ignorance Of Adulthood

"You said you wanted to see me, sir?" Lyle asked as he opened the door.

"Yes, please come in and grab a seat."

Mr. Cunningham took a bottle of his finest liquor along with 2 glasses. He poured one and offered it to his guest, then poured another for himself while lighting a cigar.

"So tell me, Mr. Anderson, how long have you been working with our company now for?" he asked not waiting for a reply.

"Well regardless, we're glad you're here with us today, and I'd like to take this time to thank you personally. We value your work here at this company so I'm pleased to offer you this," he said as he turned away from his view of the city and handed his associate an envelope.

Lyle's heart immediately sank as he saw its contents -- a small fraction of the bonus he received the previous year.

Mr. Cunningham studied his associates reaction and sighed.

"You know that our business isn't what it use to be; with outsourcing being the new trend, record high inflation rates, IRS protocols, and government sanctions, we're not able to be as generous as we once were," he said as he paused to puff on his cigar. "I hope you can understand all of this," he added bleakly as an afterthought.

Lyle was about to voice his protest when Mr. Cunningham continued.

"At the same time I want you to know that I too know the financial burdens of trying to raise a family; what with mortgage payments being subject to record high interest rates, college tuition and gas prices increasing by the year, stocks and liquid assets dropping in value... it's a cut throat world out there to say the least. All the same," Mr. Cunningham continued as he took out 20 thousand dollars in cash and put it on the desk separating the 2 men, "it pains me to see any member of my team not pull through."

"So tell me," he said as he turned around to study the view of the busy city below him, "how old is Jessica now?"

It was a good thing Mr. Cunningham was turned away as Lyle felt his face redden in abrupt frustration and hatred for his counterpart as a little voice whispered to him the true meaning behind his words.

"She turned 18 last week," he said hoping he was able to mask his derision and contempt.

Lyle looked at the money and thought of all the things he could do with it. As painful as it was to leave the money untouched, he pocketed the envelope and got up to leave.

"Don't forget to take the rest of your bonus, Mr. Anderson?" Mr. Cunningham asked hopefully while procuring yet another 20 thousand in cash. "You know... for being such a good sport about it all."

Twenty thousand was painful to reject but forty thousand was impossible. Hoping he wasn't going to spend the rest of his days rotting in hell, he shamefully collected the money.

"Wise decision my friend," Lyle heard a distant voice say as he felt a hand gently pat his back.

***

Jessica was sitting idly on her bed reading a book that was listed as a prerequisite for her AP sociology class, when she heard a knock on the door. Hearing a knock at this time of night was usually an unfavorable sign, as her father would typically want her to help entertain some of the men from his work -- something she had agreed to do reluctantly since she was young. Between the ages of 8 and 11 they mostly just ignored her, too busy with drinking, poker and cigar smoking to give her much notice. But then around the time she turned 13, they started to make comments about the physical progression of her body. She tried wearing baggier clothing to help reduce the frequency of the comments, but after a while they would continue regardless of what she wore. It was at around this time that she officially accepted her breasts and the natural curves of her body as a curse; what with the guys who did nothing but stare, and the other girls who were typically overly spiteful and jealous. Then of course there were the more practical reasons to hate her breasts in particular, as she felt that even simple everyday moving around was in part more burdensome due to their over-enlargement.

"Come in," she said as the present moment came back to her.

Lyle tiptoed inside, briefly surveyed his surroundings, and then cut to the chase.

"Well if it's alright with you," he asked hoping he didn't sound as nervous as he felt, "I was hoping you'd agree to help me entertain an important guest."

Jessica sighed unhappily as she realized that she was right as usual.

"Now I understand that you may find this sort of company in particular to be a bit... unpleasant. So if there's anything I can do to help make things more comfortable for you, well, this would be the time to ask," he informed her nervously while hoping for the best.

"Well lets see," she said as she thought for a moment. "Just off the top of my head... I suppose a thousand dollars could never hurt," she retorted almost half-sarcastically.

"Perfect," he said with a sigh of relief as he pulled out a small wad of cash. Here's the one thousand that you recently requested, and here's another one thousand that you can freely have if you let me have the tiniest say in how we present ourselves for our upcoming endeavor."

Still not understanding what her father was asking of her, she looked at him in both awe, disbelief, and sneaking suspicion -- for years she had accredited him for being a notorious cheapskate.

"Lets be reasonable here," her father pleaded. "Mr. Cunningham is a very important guest. I'd hate for him to get the wrong idea should one of us happen to dress incorrectly."

"I see," she responded dispassionately.

"Well is there something wrong with what I have on now?" she asked naively while gesturing to her jeans and long sleeved turtle neck.

"No, no, of course not. But why don't you humor me? What other outfits can you wear?"

With the one thousand dollars in mind, she stepped into her walk in closet to see what else she had.

"What about this?" she asked as she came out, still trying to pull the shirt upwards to better cover herself. She had picked the shirt she was wearing now as joke, as she had clearly grown out of it and should have thrown it out years ago. It was cut way too low to begin with, and as it was she kept feeling the need to pull it upwards to prevent herself from falling completely out of it.

"It's perfect!" he said positively delighted. "Well alright then. We'll be waiting for you downstairs whenever you're ready."

"Right now?" she asked surprised, "but what if I say something that offends him?"

"Oh I wouldn't worry about that," he replied reassuringly. "Something tells me that Mr. Cunningham will be more than pleased to hear anything you want to say."

"I see. So is there anything in particular I should know about him?" she asked hoping for a glimpse into what she was getting herself into.

"Lets just say that I wouldn't be surprised if he's the kind of man who is used to getting what he wants," he said as he exited her room.

"Now that's a bummer," she said to herself, "and here I was hoping to hear that he'd be a civil human being who believed in basic decency."

***

Jessica took the moment to look in the mirror before leaving to join her father's company. No amount of money is worth wearing something this embarrassing, she half thought to herself as she tried pulling her shirt up to in an almost vain attempt to maintain concealment. Feeling almost naked and overly exposed, she thought about getting into something more suitable, but at the last moment tried reminding herself that this uniform did not define who she was, and that she only had to wear it for a little while.

The first thing she noticed when she saw Mr. Cunningham was her father's absence. She thought it was odd because it was an unprecedented occurrence if you considered all the times they'd entertained guests in the past. Not knowing what to think about it, she sat down at the seat sitting directly across from him at the table, where food and drink had already been served. She wasn't at all hungry and so she studied the figure across from her, hoping she'd be able to do what was expected of her. She had seen him and spoke to him briefly at the various company parties, and she never would have thought twice about him if he wasn't sitting in front of her presently. Clean shaven and plain looking, small in stature, with nothing out of the ordinary about him that would make him remotely noteworthy.

It was then that she noticed the second peculiarity; there was wine in front of her. Of course, alcohol had never been expressly forbidden but at the same time it had never been expressly offered, either. Assuming because it was out of boredom, she felt her arm reach itself out so that she could try a tiny sip. She was surprised by how sweet it tasted, as she felt the tinniest wave of warm, happy nourishment course through her body.

"You certainly don't look like someone who'd be important," she said at last.

"I suppose you might be right," he replied after a brief pause and with out a trace of irritation.

She continued to sip the wine as the silence continued. "Wow," she exclaimed at last. "This is actually pretty good."

"I'm glad you like it," he proclaimed proudly. "I prefer the finest elements in all aspects of my life... including wine."

"Sounds like a delight," she exclaimed enthusiastically as she moved to pour herself some more.

She couldn't tell how much time had passed, but it wasn't long before things started looking a lot better. Being as warm and comfortable as she felt, she hardly even noticed how her shirt was falling too low again. And then all at once it hit her. She was tired. She tried getting up but faltered and sat back down.

"Here let me help you," he said as he moved across to join her. Using his body for support she felt herself stand up properly, but at the same time felt a strange tug of sorts. She looked down to find herself completely bare and uncovered. She instinctually reached down to try and pull up the rest of her shirt but found her arms locked by some unknown force. Feeling unfairly exposed, she turned her head away, flushed with new found shame and embarrassment.

And at that exact moment, something within him snapped. One way or another he needed to have her, and there wasn't a force in the universe that could stop him. While struggling against his hold, he effortlessly pushed her down with his weight so that he was on top of her, and at the same time tore off the thin panty layer she was wearing underneath her skirt. Excited with the new found exposure, he hastily unbuttoned and unzipped himself as her body went wildly frantic, doing everything it physically could to get away. Holding her firmly, he did his best to position himself in front of her opening; warm, moist and inviting. He tried pushing himself experimentally into her but found entrance nearly impossible. Despite her protests he pushed her legs further apart, still to no avail. At long last he tried something else. Using his hands to stretch her wide enough open to gain temporary entrance, he positioned himself behind her and pushed. After much heated effort he finally managed to force the head of his shaft inside her, and in that same moment Jessica began screaming hysterically as she painfully felt herself make way for the enlarged and pulsating entity.

Whimpering and undergoing repeated body-like spasms, she continued to helplessly struggle, clawing and thrashing around in a futile attempt to gain freedom. With only a fraction of himself inside of her and her body still adjusting to his size, he took the moment to let her continue to properly lubricate. Now squealing and and half-consciously begging for release, he slowly pushed himself further inside of her. The further he pushed the louder she frantically screamed, and with one full thrust her vision went dark. For all that it was worth, she deliriously screamed and cried and begged for him to stop as he continued the behavior late into the night.

***

Although she didn't remember falling asleep or getting into bed, Jessica awoke in a daze, as if everything that had happened the previous night was a dream. And she continued to run through the motions of life. She woke up, got dressed, ate, went to school and studied. She didn't know if she felt different, or the same, or what to think or how she should act. She thought about telling someone but ultimately decided against it, as she didn't trust that the community would react properly. Before she knew it a week went by, and then another. She saw her father rarely, and for this she was thankful -- she didn't think she'd be able to hold her composure properly while in front of him.

One evening while lying on her bed studying for an exam, she heard a knock.

"Come in," she said with out thinking twice.

A figure comes inside and sits on the chair next to the door. Feeling as if something was amiss, she looks up to see none other than Mr. Cunningham.

"Oh it's you," she said doing her best to mask her fear and feign disinterest, "surely you're not here because you want to talk about my hopes, dreams or expectations?" she mocked.

"In the future I hope that you'll sound happier when you greet me," he responded casually.

"In your dreams, weirdo," she spat in contempt.

"I'm sorry if you don't like me," he said unable to feel at all guilty. "Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?"

"You can treat me like a human being?" she asked sarcastically.

"But you're a woman!" he replied half-jokingly. "And besides, if I obliged that request then how would you and I ever end up together?"

"Oh you sad, poor, twisted creature. How I and the rest of the world will forever pity you. Your self-loathing makes it impossible for you to even try to form a civil human relationship, so you just bypass all accepted social norms based on the assumption that no self-respecting female will ever give consent to a hideous freak like you."

"And even if you're right," he asked becoming increasingly amused, "how can a guy complain when the plus side is that he gets to have a girl like you?"

She sat there for a moment as if not sure how she should best answer him before she replied, "you may have me on a physical level for the time being, but it won't last long because you'll never have my love or consent, and no matter how many times you try and take me I will always wish and imagine that I'm with someone else. Plus I don't think you'll ever have it in you to satisfy me the way that a real man could."

"Feistiness!" he replied positively delighted. "A lot of men can appreciate that in a woman. Now come over here and be a doll and undress for me? Oh and don't give me that look... we both know that we can do this the easy way or the hard way."

He moved over to her bed and took off her shirt with out struggle.

"And would you look at that!" he said pleasantly pleased with himself as he noticed her bodies arousal.

Jessica looked away in shame and hated herself for responding like how she did just then; with her face flushed, breathing increased, and Warm, electric tingling sensations coursing through her body.

"Here I'll make you a deal," he said as he continued to study her.

"I'll softly touch you here," indicating with a gesture to her firmly erected nipples, "and if you show any sign of displeasure I'll stop immediately and respect your wishes from this point onwards."

"But that's not fair!" she protested in vain. "You're trying to justify your actions based on how my..."

She wasn't afforded the opportunity to finish the sentence as she started moaning involuntarily. Never hating her body more, she gasped as she felt his fingers softly explore the soft texture of her nipples. Almost immediately she felt a warm dampness between her legs, and never felt so humiliated or degraded as she realized she couldn't remember a time when she felt half as wet as she happened to be right then.

"Ohhh," she half whimpered, "please stop," she heard a voice say as she felt him take off the rest of her clothes and shift her body into an awkward position where she felt shamefully exposed.

"Nooo!" she pleaded at last as she started cumming over and over as he pushed himself inside of her. Not only did She squeal and convulse uncontrollably, but what was worse was that she shamefully felt her body betray her as it started moving itself in rhythmical accordance to each and every single one of his thrusts. She didn't know how long she laid there before him, half-sobbing and begging for release, but eventually it ceased, and shortly thereafter Mr. Cunningham got dressed and took his leave.

***