I had been working at Loesser Bros. Ltd for over seven years and had worked my way up to floor manager when I was promoted suddenly to account vice president. I couldn't figure why exactly I was promoted. I didn't think I had done anything particularly spectacular, but I had held the floor men to their jobs and managed the sales reps well in the past year. I received a tremendous bonus, almost four times my previous annual salary, and was moved into a new office with a vice president named Marguerite Seldon.
Marguerite, as she asked me to call her the day after we met (I'd asked her to call me Martin as soon as we shook hands), was an unmarried (at least, unringed) lady of perhaps thirty-five. She was beautiful auburn hair; deep blue commanding eyes; a fantastic figure, as trim as her somewhat tall build (she was 5' 10") would allow. The curve of her breasts and hips was most attractive, and she made certain (I was sure) that I appreciated her figure and her stockbroking abilities, which were as outstanding as her personality.
Marguerite was very outgoing, perhaps that was what attracted and kept the clients, for she and I made a great team, bringing in commissions like grocery coupons. I soon became as attractive to clients as was Marguerite, although her clients were mostly men, while mine were mostly women. I must say that Marguerite's private (very private) remarks about our clients were occasionally caustic and very much apropos.
"Well, Martin my boy," said she about one large, very large, client, "was that trip to the moon, or over the moon?" "To the moon" was our office code for an unpleasant time.
"Not quite, Marguerite. She wanted to be put into some penny stocks that I know are worthless, and I flat-out refused. 'Sides, she wouldn't have fit. But I tried to interest her in Vanneman's new issue, which you pointed out to me, and she waffled so altogether, maybe it wasn't completely worthless, but I didn't close today."
That was a sad admission, but I'd closed six in two days of that week already, and we had been generally in a fairly happy mood.
"You should have spread some honey on her waffle, then, Mart'," was her rejoinder. I started to chuckle, then thought better of it.
"Never mind, Mart'.: she went on, "Oh, hell, do you mind my calling you Mart'?" Her mild profanity took me slightly aback.
"No, not at all. But I don't think you'd like anyone to call you 'Maggie,'" I grinned.
"True, I'd hate it. I had too many unpleasant nicknames unpleasant to me, anyway as a youngster. Other than names, I think we get along well for two completely unattached orphans, don't you?"
"Uhm... Marguerite, how did you know . . .?"
"That you were an orphan with no close relatives...or ties? Perhaps we orphans can 'feel' each other, after we work together for a time. Our secretary, Sally, is an orphan, too. What I started to ask . . . ."
"Yes?" I was fascinated by what I thought I saw in her eyes an interest in me as a person, not as a brokerage team partner. I got the impression that Marguerite was very attracted to me. I know that during the six weeks we'd worked together I had found her more and more attractive, and I was only awaiting the proper time and place to come on strongly to her I realized that I'd fallen for her! Her next statement surprised and excited me. Something in my lower belly churned excitingly.
"I want you to come to dinner at my place, and be introduced to . . . I am always a little hesitant about my hobby...I hope you won't laugh at me...."
"I promise I won't, I've had some funny... some odd hobbies...myself." Lately, masturbating and trying to cum when I thought of Marguerite, back at my apartment!
"Yes, well, I take my...particular...hobby quite seriously. I collect...dolls, you might say. You will find yourself quite...involved, I'd say. I haven't known anyone...well, one other...most people would laugh at me . . . who I'd ask to regard my hobby as closely as you."
I'd very seldom in the time I'd known her heard Marguerite hesitate and ramble as much as she did this day. I didn't care...any chance to be alone with her....
"Marguerite, I'm honored indeed. I would very much like to learn about your hobby, and I must tell you ...I feel something between us more than just office-partners' interest, if you follow me."
"Why, yes, I believe I do. I find you very attractive, Marty." There was a grin on her lips, a spark of mischief in her eye. "Do you... consent...?" I thought that an odd way to phrase it, but I said,
"Surely, with pleasure. When?"
"How about this coming week-end? We have four days off. It will give you a chance to become... better acquainted...with my dolls."
Well, that was agreed, and I felt an odd sense of relief. The invitation and the tone in which it was delivered was as sincere as I'd ever heard. From that moment I began wanting to be near Marguerite more and more urgently. As I thought of the coming four-day week-end, I thought my masculinity would assert itself, but only a tremor in my lower belly indicated any sexual arousal. I somehow seemed more content when I was around Marguerite the rest of the short week. I could have sworn that she smelled different, too.
Luckily, only two more days and it was Thursday the firm was closed every week-end anyway Friday of that week and the Monday following were extra "up-date" days necessitated by some computer programming.
Thursday, after lunch, I thought I saw some indication that Marguerite was perhaps "suffering" from similar anticipation, for I noticed on several occasions her nipples tautly erected against her tight sweater when she looked at me. Once by chance I noticed that her chair seat was, to my astonished eyes, slightly damp, and on that occasion she walked quite quickly to the door, moving slightly sideways, saying over her shoulder,
"Ladies room, back at once."
I had a client on the phone at the moment, so I could make no remark, but I was slightly distracted, sufficiently so that the client asked me if I were all right. I snapped back to reality and was closing the deal when Marguerite came back. She had on another skirt. As I put the phone down, she gave me a great wide smile which lit up those penetrating blue eyes and she chuckled,
"Sorry, Marty. I know that was distracting, but I was thinking the same thoughts you were! I can hardly wait for tonight. You'll...really come over, won't you." My belly contracted in a pleasurable spasm. I didn't notice that was a statement, not a question. I quickly replied,
"Good Lord, yes! But I thought you meant tomor . . . Fri . . . I hadn't thought . . . ."
"Makes...no difference to me, but have you anything else on for the week-end? You've consented to come...? Yes? Then come over tonight. You have the address, right?" She'd used that word "consent" again, which sounded slightly odd in context, but I let it slide.
I took the sweaty, much-creased piece of paper from my wallet I'd probably looked at it fifty times so far in two days, and I gulped in embarrassment.
"Uhm, Marguerite, I had it written down, but this piece of paper won't do me any good. I've looked at your address so much that I've sweated and erased it out of existence!"
"O K, we'll do this another way. Look at me, Marty! Now Marguerite Seldon, 12234 Drosten Way, North Harbor. You've got it now, don't you?"
Well, I certainly did. I had never before had someone's personality impressed on my mind like that. I regarded Marguerite differently; she was a forceful and much more powerful woman than I had earlier realised. A feeling of general well-being came over me and I just accepted that Marguerite was somehow a superior person. Now I wanted to be there as soon as possible!
Where I got that idea I don't know, but it made all the remaining time at work Thursday seem to go excruciatingly slowly. I left the office shortly after Marguerite, as early as possible, with instructions to Sally that I was not to be disturbed all week-end.
Sally smiled and nodded as though she thoroughly understood. I gathered with nothing said that Marguerite had given her the exact same instructions, and I knew that Sally could put two and two together.
"Going to join us...uh...I mean, see the dolls, Martin? You'll love uh...them. See you soon," said Sally, looking a bit wistful.
I thought for a second that the way she phrased that was odd, but thought no more about it, then. She was certainly good-looking and I had considered her as a prospect for some interesting fun every time I had seen her before I had met Marguerite. I wondered for a moment how Sally knew about the dolls...and was that just a slip when she said "join us?" Just the same, I thought, Sally didn't have to assume that she'd see me before Tuesday.
I got to Marguerite's she'd asked me not to drive my car, no parking available she said, so I used mass transportation on a handy bus which stopped at the nearest corner at quarter to seven. I had showered and dressed as though for a night out, yet I had a strange feeling that we would not leave the apartment all week-end.
Marguerite's "place" was not after all leased, as I had expected. She owned the entire building, and occupied the three bottom floors and the basement!
She opened the inner door to her home "dressed" only in a loosely held shawl which she dropped at once to reveal her entire gorgeous body.
I should have had a raging erection, but I felt only great desire to please Marguerite. The look with which she regarded me made my mind quiver, and I thought to myself, This is the most beautiful woman you will ever know, and she is your mistress.
I could not have kept myself from saying what I next said, in gasps of fevered adoration.
"Marguerite, I... I just now realised that I want to be yours . . . if you'll have me. You must be the most beautiful woman I've ever known!"
