Room at the Top

Copyright ©  March, 2002, Kellis

 

 

“Mr. Collins, why do you always make me suck your cock?”

The girl’s mouth was right at the end of the organ, her lips tickling the exposed head as she spoke.  She had already roused it to a full stand while kneeling between his legs in front of his executive chair, her elbows extended over his thighs to hold his lowered britches away from the action.  Her left hand held the shaft depressed while her right massaged the hairy bag of flesh that dangled beneath it.

He gazed down at her in mild astonishment from his partly reclining position slunk forward in the huge chair.  “You never objected before, Sally.”

“I’m not objecting now, sir.”  Her hand worked the shaft’s loose skin absently.  “But you have a nice couch over there that we never use.  I was just curious.”

Her tongue flicked the eye, causing a visible throb, but plainly she expected to have more to say.

“To tell you the truth, Sally, I never thought of that.  You give such wonderful head!”

“Thank you, sir.  I made a study of it, you know.”

“A study?”

“Oh, yes.  When I found out you liked it so much, I read all the books and then I went to see my Aunt Margie.”

“Your, ah, Aunt Margie knows something about cock sucking?”

“I’ll say.  She worked in Hollywood for 20 years.”

“As an actress?”

“Oh, yes.  She made a lot of movies.”

“No kidding!  What’s her full name?”

“Her screen name was Lilly Bangus.  She starred in some real hits, like Backdoor Push, Sucking Up and Calamity Crack.”

“I see.  Real hits, were they?”

“Oh, yes.  My older brother went back to see Sucking Up ten times.”

The man chuckled.  “Guess I would, too, if my aunt was the star.”

“He really had the hots for Aunt Margie!  She has some wonderful notes and clippings, how many different cocks she sucked, what was the biggest, the smallest, how many girl-poppers, the youngest and —”

“Ah, ‘girl-poppers?’”

“Like yours.  The ones the girl could pop without the guy having to pump.  They’re kind of rare in the movies.”

“Now that you mention it …”

“Anyway, Aunt Margie called her husband in and let me practice until I got it right.”

“Very interesting.  Hmm.  Where’s your aunt these days?”

“Oh, I hate to tell you, Mr. Collins.  Aunt Margie isn’t doing so well.”

“How old is she?”

“She won’t say, but I think she’s just a bit over 40.”

“That’s not so old.  What’s her problem?”

“That last husband.  He was a gambler.  A bad gambler.  He took every dime before she got rid of him.  Now she’s reduced to living on residuals.”

The man fell silent, brow knit in concentration.  The woman sighed and peeling back the foreskin, closed her lips just beyond the corona, sealing them so that she could apply suction with the back of her tongue while the rough front swirled round and round the bulbous glans, pausing occasionally to diddle sideways in the sensitive eye.

After awhile he mused, “We need a replacement for Ms. Barnaby.  Did your aunt ever do anything besides act?”

Reluctantly the woman raised her head.  “The latht five yearth —”  She giggled.  “Doing that alwayth maketh my tongue so thick!”

“Take it easy.  How long has she been out of work?”

“Only a couple years.  Actually she still does an odd job here and there.  I was trying to say, her last five years in the movies she worked as an assistant director.”

“Ah, did she!  Now, that’s interesting.”

“She was very good at getting the men to pop when they were supposed to.  That skill is rare in the movies.”

“Other places, too.”

“The problem in the movies is that when they’re shooting film, they want the guys to pop three or four times a day.”

“How did she arrange it?”

“She didn’t tell me everything!  But hearing her talk to her buddies, I think usually it was getting the second stringers to work the guys up in advance.  Of course, that’s pretty tricky, too.”

“Easy to go too far, eh?”

“Sometimes.  Aunt Margie was especially good with the older guys.  She was given an award for adding another three squirts to Peter South.”

“Wow!  I think I may want to see your aunt.”

“For a job here?  We have a hiring freeze, you know.”

“Don’t worry about that, Sally.  Always plenty of room at the top.”

“Oh, yeah.  They made her a producer and she doubled the profits.”

“Did she!  What happened to her?”

“The studio sold out to another that didn’t like her looks.”

He stared then nodded.  “I guess movie stars do run that risk.”

“Especially when they get behind the cam—”

She broke off at a knock on the locked door.  Hastily she backed away and rose to her feet, hand to her hair.  The man sat up, jerked britches and underpants up around his waist, buckled the belt and scooted the big chair up close behind his desk.  She waited, standing at the door.  He nodded.  She unlocked it and pulled it open.

“Hello, Mr. Morgan,” she said.  “Won’t you come in?”  As the other man passed in front of her, she turned back to Collins.  “Sir, would you care to finish this dick-ation later?”

“That’s dictation, Sally; dick-ta­-tion.”

The newcomer chuckled.  “Didn’t reach the tonsils yet, Sally?  No sense in leaving.  And your boss’s hard dick won’t interfere with my question.  Collins, which girl did you send to meet Grafton’s flight?”

“Why, ah, Julia, wasn’t it, Sally?”

“Yes, sir.  Julia.”

“That’s what I gathered.  She’s not gonna make it.”

“What?  That’s terrible!”

“You know it.  She called a few minutes ago.  Her limousine ran into an abutment on the Southwest Expressway.  She’s pretty shook up.”

“Good heavens!  Did the driver have a heart attack?”

“Not in so many words.  I gather it was more of a hard attack.  She was sucking him off for practice.”

Collins nodded.  “She is dedicated!”

“She says she nearly bit it off.”

“Was anyone hurt?”

Morgan chuckled.  “Not so’s you’d notice.  But this is serious, just when we need to sweeten him up.  Old Grafton’s jet will be on the ground in half an hour.  I called Special Services at the airport.  They’re looking for a car and a girl but so far haven’t found either available.  Thought I’d give you a heads up.  You might want to make sure your parachute can open.”

“Thanks, Morgan.  God, life is just full of mean little surprises!”

“Isn’t it!  Nothing more we can do about it but cross our fingers.  Back on your knees, young lady.”

He turned around and marched out of the office.  The woman followed him, locked the door and returned to stand beside Collins.  “What’s next, sir?”

“Did you ever suck Grafton, Sally?”

“Oh, yes, sir.  We all had to.”

“Anything, ah, unusual?”

“Unusual, sir?  Well, he’s not a girl-popper, but I don’t know whether you can call that unusual.”

“You mean he has to jack off while you’re sucking?”

“I think he’s in the habit of it.”

Collins mused, “Well, he is a rather old man.  Must be nearly in his seventies.”

She smiled reminiscently.  “Old, but oh, so rich!”

“That makes a big difference, does it, Sally?”

“He sent me a diamond bracelet once.”

“Yes, that would make a difference.”

“Shall we resume the dick-ation?”

He sighed.  “Will you never learn the right word?”

“It is the right word!”

He chuckled and tilted his head back to study her.  “You want to try the couch?”

“The couch?”

“I assume you really mean you want to do, ah, regular fucking.”

“I don’t know, sir.”

He frowned.  “Why did you mention it, then?  You’d have to take off your panty-hose, at least, and probably your skirt and slip, too, to keep them unwrinkled.  I’d have to undress a lot also.  Time consuming and sweaty.  If we were both about naked, it would be a lot of fun, but …  We both get plenty of that at home, don’t we?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Whereas this way, you never muss your makeup or even spill a drop.”

“No, sir.”

He stared at her.  She returned it unblinkingly.

“Is something bothering you, Sally?”

She shook her head as if recovering from a daydream.  “Will you excuse me a minute, Mr. Collins?  I need to visit the ladies’.”

“Yes, of course.”

When she returned, he announced, “Then it’s decided.  Heads is the winner.”  He pushed back his chair to the wall, raised up and shoved both sets of britches to half-mast.  The woman rounded the desk, sank between his legs, elbows across his thighs, and took her shrunken objective in hands and mouth.

He threw his head back and shut his eyes.  “Don’t worry, Sally.  You’ll stay with me.  If Grafton is so pissed that he shuts us down, I have enough options on Roland Mutual for a vice presidency or at least a seat on the board.  We’ll just slip over there.  You’ll continue sucking my dick every day for the same salary.”

She paused but shortly resumed, the swirling tongue much in evidence.

After a bit he mused aloud, “I wish I could choose who picks up Grafton.  I’d make it a battered old Lincoln and a scurvy whore with clap of the tonsils.  The driver’d be a big mean dude who stops in a garage and reams Grafton’s asshole before they throw him out without a dime.  Teach that old bastard the whole world doesn’t turn for his benefit.

“Whew!  That’s exciting stuff.  Suck it, you dedicated little cocksucker, you!”

 

* * *

 

Two hours later Sally sat in made-up perfection with her portable computer perched on the side of Collins’ desk while he worked on the division budget, substituting trial values in the critical cells of her spreadsheet.  Some of his choices, such as a private washroom for each executive office, were obviously wishful thinking.  Sally made a Wordpad note of the coordinates for those root cells so that when the bottom line alarmed even Collins, she could easily remove them.

The telephone rang.  She lifted the receiver.  “Mr. Collins’ office.”

It rattled lengthily.  Eyes widening, she said, “Hold on.  I’ll tell him.”

With instinctive caution she lowered her voice.  “This is Daisy downstairs.  She says a limousine is stopped in the garage and security says according to the driver it’s old man Grafton.”

Collins blinked.  “‘Stopped,’ you say?”

“Yes, sir, with the engine idling.  The driver says they’re doing business in the back.”

“Ask her how long it’s been down there.”

Sally opened her mouth but Daisy had overheard.  Sally relayed, “About five minutes.”

Collins motioned for her to hang up.

She said, “Thanks, Daisy,” and did so.

“I guess Special Services came through,” Collins mused.  “We’ll work on the budget later, Sally.  Go get your printouts of the Newbury presentation and spread them on my desk.”

“But Newbury was last week!”

“Grafton won’t know that, will he?”

Sally soon returned from the files in the hall and spread the obsolete presentation across his desk before departing to her own desk in front of his office door.

Morgan popped his head in.  “You get the word?”  He squinted at the bold Newbury on the top printout and grinned knowingly.  “You got it.”

“Who did the airport find for him?” Collins asked.

“I don’t know, but obviously they located something.”

The excited buzzing in the main room told Collins when Grafton arrived.  His phone rang.  A moment later Sally stood in his door.  “Mr. Grafton wants you in the main conference room.”

“Thank you, Sally,” he murmured, getting to his feet.  “Is it just me?”

“No, sir.  He’s calling for all the executives.”

“I guess that’s good.”

“I guess,” she agreed, though her eyes regarded him strangely, almost aggressively.  He shrugged and sauntered down the hall.

Morgan caught up with him just before the conference room.  “You heard anything?”

“Not yet,” said Collins.  “But I get the feeling something’s in the wind.”

“Yeah, so do I.  Guess we’re about to find out.”

They entered the room and took adjacent seats at the long table.  Grafton’s wrinkled face and white cookie-duster moustache glowered from the far end.  A strange, matronly woman in a suit sat on his right hand, holding a notepad.  Though quite a handsome female with blonde hair and tasteful makeup, she was obviously older than his usual choice of personal assistant.

“Close the door, Shivell,” the old man said as the fifth and last vice president came through it.  “Take a seat and let’s get down to business.”

He waited until five expectant faces were turned silently to him.  The strange woman checked something in her notebook.

“I don’t mind telling you,” Grafton began, “that I came here today to close this office.  Your bottom line fails to come anywhere near justifying your glowing reports of the past two quarters.  You have recently lost three major contracts, Newbury Products being the latest.  You looked surprised, Morgan.  You didn’t think I’d heard about that yet, did you?

“John Newbury and I go back a long way.  He called me and complained that I let Commestible undercut me.  To my surprise I discovered that indeed I had!”

His listeners exchanged stricken glances.  Melton, the local head VP, sighed audibly.  “But, Mr. Grafton, we held the line on our previous quote.”

“So I understand, but Commestible cut theirs by ten per-cent.”  The old man added sarcastically, “Apparently they noticed the cost of magnetic storage has dropped by half!”

“It has?” exclaimed Porter, Vice President of Procurement.

“And not one of you detected it, obviously.  Do I have to remind you that in between secretarial shoves you guys are supposed to at least read your staff reports?”

They looked at the ceiling, at the lone woman, everywhere but at Grafton.  Her face remained composed.  She scratched something into her notebook.

The old man cleared his throat.  “I said I came here today to close this office and incidentally to fire the lot of you.”  He glared around.  “But I’ve been persuaded to change my mind.”

He put his hand on the woman’s suited arm.  “This is Margaret Holmes.  Gentlemen, meet Grafton Enterprises’ most senior VP.”

They blinked and stared, now with a very different concern.  Melton swallowed and ventured, “Congratulations, Ms. Holmes.”

Her eyes narrowed coldly on him.  “You are?”

Grafton interrupted, his voice suddenly genial, “Margie, these are the heads of your departments in this branch, serving entirely at your pleasure.”  He pointed around the table, specifying each man’s name.  She wrote furiously in her notebook.  Collins gulped.  Had she projected a particularly flinty glare at the sound of his name?

“When they entered that door,” Grafton continued blandly, “they were VPs.  When they leave they will each have the rank of director and each salary will be cut by 25 per-cent.”  He smiled.  “That may thin them out a bit, one way or the other.  Do you have any questions, Margie?”

“Yes, sir.”  She gazed around at her wide-eyed subordinates.  “Which of you has the largest office?”

They all looked at Melton.  Swallowing again, he admitted it.

“You will move into the next available office immediately.”

“Y-yes, sir — uh, I mean, yes, ma’am.”

“I want to inspect your present office later this afternoon.  All of you will please report to me there at eight o’clock tomorrow morning.”

Grafton chuckled in the stunned silence.  “That’s it, gentlemen.  If you people have any questions for management, put them to Margie from now on.”  He stood up.  “Morgan, send that cutie of yours, um, Betty Lou? — to ride with me back to the airport.”

“Yes, sir,” said Morgan as they all stood.

But the woman stared piercingly at one of them.  “I’ll meet with you now in your office, Mr. Collins.”

Faces appalled, the newly demoted shambled from the conference room ahead of the bosses.  “Director!” muttered Morgan, rolling his eyes.  He raised his fist and jerked it downward in the gesture by which children persuade truckers to blow their air horns.

“What are you doing?” asked Collins.

“Testing my rip-cord.”

Collins fell back to wait for the woman.  “This way, Ms. Holmes.”

Sally looked back and forth between them as they passed before her desk.  Pausing at the office door, the senior VP beckoned to the secretary.  “You, too, and lock the door.”

As the girl did so, the woman pushed past him, rounded his desk and stood before his captain’s chair.  He paused at the corner of his desk.

“Sally,” said the woman, “clean off this junk and put it back in the file.”

Collins started.  How had she known it was “junk?”

She hiked up her suit skirt, whipped down her pantyhose and stepped on them with one foot in order to free the other.  She plopped down on the edge of the chair and spread her legs, exposing pubes trimmed in a neat V above bulging labia.  She cocked her head up toward the standing man.  “How much persuasion will you need, Collins?”

He hesitated.  “Does Sally have to be here?”

“Yes.”

He gulped.  “Are you healthy?”

She smirked.  “Healthy enough for Grafton.”  She shook her head.  “Too bad.  Your hesitation has cost your next raise.  Let’s try this.  If in a week’s time you return every bit of that 800 thou’ you sent offshore this year, I won’t notify the police.”  She studied his suddenly whitened face.  “Do you find that persuasive, Collins?”

“Wh-what do you want?”

“What does a woman usually want when she bares her twat?  Come on, Collins.  You can either lick me or lick your fellow convicts.”

He turned his head to stare accusingly at Sally, but the woman in his chair sneered, “You can’t be as dumb as you look, Collins!  Either get on your knees or make a run for it.  Now!”

Half of that embezzled money had been invested in Enron stock on a hot tip from his uncle, from whom no one had heard in months.  Collins slipped around the corner of the desk as the woman smirked and shoved the chair back.  He dropped to his knees on her crumpled pantyhose.  To his surprise her inner lips tasted of bourbon.  She could tolerate whisky in her cunt?  Then he remembered the bourbon-flavored douches of a few years back and decided this one must have been freshly applied.

He licked around the clitoris until it lumped up, then applied his tongue to the smooth skin above it.  His hands slipped under the raised skirt and massaged her cool hips.

“Well!” he heard her declare above him.  “You’re not totally useless.  You do know a little something about licking a split.”

He redoubled his efforts.  Her thighs closed on his ears and her body twisted.  After a while she opened her legs.  Hands on his forehead pushed him back.

“Enough for now, Collins.  Sally, you take my place.”

The woman got up, making room for the secretary, who likewise removed her pantyhose and sank into his seat.  He looked up at the familiar face and something clicked.  “She’s your Aunt Margie, isn’t she!”

Sally grinned.  “I told you she was terrific.”  Her hands came down and parted the hairy labia.  “Right in the middle,” she directed.

Numbly he leaned into the work.  Sally responded immediately.  Legs closed on his head and her body convulsed.  Dimly he heard shrieks.  Strong hands on his shoulders yanked him back.

“Enough!” cried the woman.  She laughed and handed him a Kleenex to wipe his wet face.  “They’ll accuse you of raping us.”

“God damn!” he muttered, falling back against the well of the desk.

His new boss took his arm and helped him up to sit in the guest chair.  Sally was leaning back in the captain’s chair, moaning softly, fingers thrusting between her legs.

“I’d forgot that about her,” said the woman irritably, “no self-control.”  She leaned past him, extended her hand and audibly thumped the girl’s head with a fingernail as if testing a cantaloupe.

“Oh!” cried Sally, eyes suddenly wide.  Hands departed groin to rub her head.

“Sorry, honey,” said the woman sympathetically, “but this is business, not the place to get carried away.  Sit up and satisfy Collins’ curiosity.”

“Curiosity?”  She looked askance at his middle, still fully clothed.

The woman chuckled slightly.  “Forget his hard-on.  He’s burning with curiosity about how all this happened.”

The girl lowered her skirt and straightened up, elbows on the desk and eyes narrowing on Collins.  “You’re a lazy crook, you know.  If I didn’t like your cock so well, I’d’ve ratted you out a long time ago.”

His chin dropped.  “Uh, Sally —”

“But I only told Aunt Margie.  She asked me a lot of questions about this place, about Grafton and his sole-proprietorship.  We talked about everything that goes on.  The other secretaries told me about their bosses and I told Aunt Margie.  She knows all about this place and about Grafton, including some stuff the IRS would like to hear.  So when Julie wrecked this morning, I went to the payphone in the lobby and called my auntie.”

The woman smiled.  Carpe diem is the operative phrase.  Grafton wasn’t much harder to persuade than you, Collins.”  Her eyes twinkled.  “I hear you have a chunk of options in Roland Mutual.  Didn’t you know that Grafton has a 51 per-cent stake there?”

“He … he what?”

“And I don’t think Mr. Grafton will care very much for an employee in either firm with a record of embezzlement, do you?”

He stared at her and took a deep, shuddery breath.  “Wh-what else do you want, Ms. Holmes?”

The woman smiled.  “Oh, I want you to stay right here where you can lick my split whenever it’s convenient.  And Sally’s, of course, after we build a soundproof restroom for you.  How does that suit you?”

“Ah, ah, I th-think I can stand that, but —”

“Good.  And there’s going to be a few other changes, though not just on you.  For example the secretary must approve every formal decision one of you guys makes from now on.  And I must approve any change in secretaries.”

“B-but … they don’t know enough to —”

“Then you’ll just have to call the experts in to answer their questions, won’t you?”

“Ah …  Good god!”

The woman’s face grew serious.  “Grafton charged me with putting this place in the black and I know how to do it.  Attention to detail is always the key, and let me tell you, you guys are really going to bend over and attend to it!”

Sally laughed aloud at his expression.  “You ought to love that, Mr. Collins.  It makes a lot more room at the top.”

 


END
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