It's a Cruel Business

(OOC: Looking for a female with decent writing skills to play my boss as laid out below. Char name and details of her appearance are up to you. PM FIRST to discuss the role. Thank you. )

This company was going down the tubes. Well at least the St. Louis branch was anyways. We used to be number 2 in sales and catching San Fran for number 1. Now we were 7th out of nine and falling fast. There were six of us in sales. We rocked and rolled clients, made a lot of money for ourselves and the company. Then last spring old man Sweigert from Chicago came in and got all steamed about our expense accounts and fired Jimmy. Jimmy Fransen our maanager, we all loved him. We loved him because he let us go out and sell. That's why the expense accounts were as high as they were. We wined and dined clients. Got them laid once in a while. If you're moving 100 thousand in kitchen wares to some newly opening restaurant, a little booze and pussy usually makes the ink flow onto the contract quicker.

The new branch manager should have been Wayne Bradshaw. He knew the industry in and out and could size up any client in 90 seconds tops. What's more, he understood the big picture. Heck, I would have been a good choice myself if I'd have been there longer than four months. Not that I really wanted the job, I enjoyed selling too much. Instead, old George Sweigert from Chicago promoted the senior accountant to be our boss. We hated her. Well, to be honest, I myself didn't hate her. Oh, I hated her as the choice to replace Jimmy, but it was nothing personal. Some of the other guys took it very personal though. Wayne quit within a month, leaving me, Doug Oates as top man on the board. Sales were dropping though. It was getting tougher and tougher to close deals, like that Korean Barbecue place I had in the palm of my hand but couldn't get the schmooze money approved to close it. My accounts were slowly swirling down the toilet like everyone else's.

Sweigert wanted a bean counter and he got a damn good one. I'll give credit where it is due, the broad was a damn fine accountant, but she knew nothing about sales. She was about 40ish (I guessed about ten years older than me) and single, didn't look like she got out much anyway, and had worked for the company for like 14 years or something. She was prim, prompt, plain, prudent and dedicated. She was a perfect accountant and a model employee, but she had no idea what she was doing as a branch manager. She ran it the only way she knew how - by counting money - every last godforsaken penny. She probably never thought about being manager, but when the boss offers you a big promotion it's hard to say no. She had no idea when she took the job that Sweigert had put her in a no-win situation. Now, six months into the job it was starting to sink in that she was in over her head. She was told to keep expenses under control so she loyally did as she was instructed, but then she couldn't understand why the sales staff hated that. She had no idea how to ingratiate herself with the boys who moved the product. It was a rock and a hard place for her. Cut expenses and piss off sales or loosen the purse strings so we can sell and fear the wrath of head office in Chicago. She was putting in a lot of hours. She was the last one to leave almost every night, behind the closed door of her office pouring over numbers. The stress was taking its toll as she was looking more and more haggered and careworn by the day. The poor lonely maid.

It was October. The days were getting short. It was already pretty dark outside our fifth storey suites. I was the last guy in the sales office. The manager was the only other person still here, behind her closed office door as usual, pouring over those mountains of numbers.

(OOC: my char, Doug Oates, blonde, blue-eyed clean cut and charming salesman about 30)

Rebecca Tate had treated her promotion with guarded excitement. She knew she had a lot to learn, and she knew there would be resentment among the sales staff. What she didn't know was that she was being set up by management to take the fall for cost cutting. She had consulted the best resources and everyone told her the same thing: hire young, energetic sales staffers and train them well. Three months ago she had filled five positions in Peoria and Des Moines, even went down and sat in on the interviews herself. She had high hopes that these kids would come through for her.

At the office, however, the tension never seemed to let up however. Every day she encountered hostility and self-doubt. The only one who seemed remotely loyal was Doug Oates, but she couldn't lean on him too much lest she alienate him from the rest of the staff. She had confided her worries to him a few times, but there seemed to be an understanding between them that there communications should not be seen as preferential in any way.

She stood up from her desk with a sigh, walking towards the window. The fading afternoon light seemed to announce her despair. She was 41 years old. She needed to develop her social life, get more exercise, read interesting books, travel, maybe fall in love. She looked at the muted colors of her blouse and skirt and remembered how she'd deliberately toned down her wardrobe so she'd be taken seriously. In her mind she could see that vivacious, beautiful, sexy young woman who had join this company now fifteen years ago. How did this happen?

It was Friday afternoon, actually evening, getting close to 6:00. There had been a retirement party that afternoon and she was pretty sure everyone left for home but her. But there she was, waiting for the sales figures to come in, hoping for some miracle. The numbers she'd seen were pretty flat, but she was waiting for the newhires who were taking longer.

She could see her face reflecting faintly off the window glass. Her skin was smooth and taught, her mouth still curled easily into that wry smile. She reached up, undid that horrid bun, and let her hair fall youthfully free around her face. She smiled at her reflected beauty, but then realized the only reason she did that was that no one else was at the office and could see her.

She walked back to the desk and pulled her resume out of the file drawer. She would do that when she hit rough spots, just dream. But she knew she should starting looking.

Suddenly her computer beeped with incoming emails. There they were, Des Moines and Peoria. She opened one and then the other so that the bad news hit her like a rock. "Damn!" she shouted, loud enough to be heard several offices away.

I was just shutting down my station and getting ready to leave when I heard her muffled frustration through the thick oak door.

"Damn!"

An emotional outburst from her like that was unusual. I stood up and pulled my light grey suit jacket on over my shoulders, then straightened my ice blue tie. Then I grabbed my laptop and headed for the exit. As I stopped to turn out the main bank of lights I looked back at the manager's door again. The reception was empty. Rod's desk was the messiest. Jerry's was the neatest. Mine was somewhere in between, but resembled more of Jerry's. The office was oddly quiet. I took in a breath and decided.

Returning to my desk I put the laptop back down and then approached the big oak door. I gave it three quick raps and then twisted the knob to poke my head in.

"Hey, Rebecca. Mind if I come in?" I asked then stepped in fully and let the door click shut. She sat behind the desk, staring at the monitor. The screen's glow reflected back into her face. Her hair was down. I'd only seen her do that a couple of times before and never like this. It wasn't really disheveled but it did have a bit of a 'fuck it' attitude to it.

"I was just heading out," I said as I leaned back against the door. Casually I stuck my hand in my pocket. "Is everything all right? Wanna talk?"

Rebecca stiffened, startled, when she heard the knock at the door. She relaxed somewhat when she saw it was Doug. "Oh, Doug, I had no idea anyone was here!"

Then she saw his eyes focus on her hair, and she instinctively brought her hand up to it, touching it, as if to cover some private place. Then she quickly answered, partly to draw attention away from her appearance.

"I was just hoping for a miracle from the new sales reps, but they just don't have the experience for that. The quarterly report isn't going to look good at all."

Doug didn't respond immediately, and Rebecca realized she hadn't answered his question at all. She had worked very hard to keep her private feelings out of the workplace, but it was Friday afternoon and everyone was long gone. She let out a sigh.

"Sure, come on in. I was going to close up as soon as I got the news, good or bad."

Doug walked over and sat in the chair to the side of the desk. She looked at him as she contemplated what she could say. She really couldn't complain about George even though she thought he knew that's how she felt. None of the others had figured that out, they thought she was in George's pocket. But she guessed Doug knew.

She saw Doug's eyes train briefly on the resume on the desk. "Don't get any ideas, Doug, it's too early for that. Besides, if I left they'd promote you, and you don't want that now. You should be content waiting until I've taken the blame for everything unpleasant."

She watched his response and thought he appreciated her candor. When he still didn't answer, she gave him a more penetrating look.

"Ok, so yea, I feel overwhelmed by this job." Rebecca suddenly felt awkward, fidgeting with her hands. "Doug, would you be honest with me, what do think? Not just about how Í'm performing, but how it's all affecting me?"

I sat myself and was about to say something when she spoke up about the documents on her desk.

"Ok, so yea, I feel overwhelmed by this job. Doug, would you be honest with me, what do think? Not just about how Í'm performing, but how it's all affecting me?"

Wow! I'd never seen her so candid, so open and vulnerable. She had always been a vault of burgeoning stress. Not only that, but her comment was like a pre-emptive strike, as if she had detected a salvo of criticism on its way and she was bracing herself for it. Something inside her was either changing or breaking down.

"Hey," I began in a soft tone. "I know you're in a no-win situation. You've never run a sales staff before until Sweigert promoted you. That's not your fault." Leaned forward in the chair, resting my elbows on my knees. "You're just running things the way the old man tells you to. And quite frankly I think the old man's lost his fuckin' marbles." The staff could often be heard with foul language amongst themselves in the office but it had to be the first time I'd ever cursed directly to her face. I stood up and took a step towards her. I thought the fabric of her blouse betrayed a tremble and there was both expectation and trepidation in her eyes.

"I don't blame you for looking elsewhere," I told her. "You've been with the same company for like fourteen years or however long. I've been a few places. I've seen a lot of shit. We could all work here the next fourteen years or Sweigert could be interviewing our replacements as we speak." I leaned back casually against her desk. "There's a time for loyalty and a time to look out for number one. You can't let it get to you."

For me it was that simple. For her it may not have been. I didn't know the details of her personal life other than I had deduced that she was hopelessly single. Maybe she had a sick mother to take care of. Perhaps she had some expensive medication that she kept secret. All I knew was that no boyfriends ever met her for lunch or called for her at reception and she had no kids, or at least she never mentioned any and had no pictures on her desk.

"You know what the guys do when we feel the need to talk like this?" I posed. "We do it over a drink. Get you a brandy?"

I always kept some in my bottom drawer. I nodded towards the door to indicating that I would go get it.

Rebecca recoiled at Doug's provocation. First the language, using the word "fucking" in front of her, then the move closer to her, then the offer of a drink. This felt so inappropriate--he was her employee after all. She drew back from him, crossing her arms in front of her.

"Well I...I don't think..."

At home, Rebecca lived a simple life. There were no great demands on her time or energy, she just liked things simple. She kept her apartment clean, got plenty of sleep, ate a healthy breakfast, things like that. She felt guarded, on edge, around anything that might disrupt her comforts.

But oh how she wanted that drink. He was absolutely right: nothing would relieve her burdens more quickly and completely than rush of alcoholic buzz to her brain. She had thought of this before, of going out for a drink on her own, or trying to get some friend to go with her. But each time she would talk herself down from it. What if someone took advantage of her? What if someone she knew saw her? What if she had a hangover the next day?

Rebecca thought of the image reflected in the window. For no other reason than the desire to succeed, she had shaped her entire being into her image of a responsible corporate woman. But now her respect for that image had been shattered. What was the point of her guarded demeanor in a corporation that would destroy her?

She lowered her hands to her lap, again fidgeting with her fingers. Then she let out a sign and looked up at Doug.

"Ordinarily, Doug, I wouldn't feel comfortable drinking at work. I would worry about how this looks for you and for me. But I guess I'm beginning to feel I've giving this company too much of myself."

She paused briefly, thinking to herself how it might feel to say "this fucking company." How liberating that would be. She felt herself suddenly wanting to possess that same irreverence, that same entitlement.

"So yeah, I'd like that drink, Doug."

She had always been so alienated from the sales staff. Much of that was on the staff just resenting her, but some of it was on Rebecca herself resisting staff culture. This was evident in how she had bristled at my offering. Of course the more she resisted, the more she was resented. It was a vicious cycle that I was trying to break. I just wanted to try to include her in our ways, to show her that it was okay to be among us once in a while. That's what the f-word and the drink was for.

I returned to her office with the bottle and a couple of glasses from the kitchen. She was still sitting stoicly in her swivel chair in the glow of her monitor. It caught the shape of her face, her cheekbones and the tip of her nose. Contrary to the cold front she usually displayed, her features were actually endearingly feminine. I shut the door gently behind me and approached her desk to set everything out and pour two shots.

"You see, the others don't care about all the hours you put in," I said as I handed her drink across the desk. "They don't want to and they have their own bull to deal with." I nodded 'cheers' to her and took a sip. "Me, at least I understand everything that you do. I may not agree with everything that you do, but I understand it. As a salesman I don't have to, but as a businessman I do." Holding my glass of brandy casually near my hip in one hand I pulled back my suit jacket to put my other in my hip pocket. "You're honest and you're diligent and you care about the operation," I told her and sipped again.

Rebecca was ghostly in the pale aura of her emails and figures. She was so tired. Not just from a long day or a tough week, she was worn down from months of stress. I could see it in her eyelids and the posture of her neck. My tone was already a casual one, but it became more caring.

"The trouble is the operation doesn't care about you. Chicago doesn't give a shit about you," I said as I looked her in the eye. "They say 'make the numbers do this'. You give them their numbers and say 'but it took me sixty hours to do that this week, dragging my ass out of bed for shitty muffin and coffee breakfast at the drive-thru on the way in every morning'. They say 'wonderful, keep up the good work'. They don't care. Sweigert takes advantage of honest diligent folks like you."

I swirled what was left of my drink, gulped it down and placed the empty on the desk with a soft clunk.

Edit: site froze and caused a double-post.

"Doug I never understood why you didn't resent me like the others. You even applied for this job, and you would have been good at it. Anyway I noticed pretty quickly that at some level I could trust you. And I think you know there have been times I have wanted desperately to lean on you, but I knew you needed to keep your distance."

She swirled the glass slightly and took her first sip. The brandy burned in her throat and she felt herself relax just anticipating its effects.

"I'm guessing it goes something like this. You'd like to get ahead just like anyone. But maybe you sensed this job would be trouble. And maybe more than others, you value your quality of life, resentment is unpleasant for you. Maybe you can appreciate that I'm trying. I don't know. Maybe there's something I'm not seeing."

Seeing Doug's glass empty, she took another sip, a larger one. Ordinarily, if she drank at all, she would be slowly sipping a glass of red wine.

"Look I hear what you're saying about nobody caring about the hours I put in. I didn't at first, but I do now. I also realize that it was something of a crutch. I'm an accountant, and that's what accountants do. The other stuff--motivation, camaraderie, empathy, you know, the stuff that happens when you drink together--that doesn't come natural for me."

She saw her glass had a small amount in it and felt obliged to quickly finish it. She set the glass back down on the desk. For a brief moment she felt the weight of her burdens, the hopelessness, the feeling that nothing she had done mattered. A tear welled in her eye, and she wiped it with her finger and sniffled.

"Sorry, Doug, I didn't mean for that to happen."

Rebecca sensed that the alcohol had begun its work on her inhibitions. She looked at Doug, wondering how much she could trust him. As far as she could tell, he wasn't at all bothered seeing her cry. For a moment their eyes met. There was something mysterious about his gaze, it almost seemed admiring. She certainly didn't sense any disrespect. She let out a deep sigh.

"All the people I've been around in my life have been pretty simple emotionally. Small-town upbringing, family of church-goers, you get the picture. It's not that I cling to that or anything, but it's what I bring to the table. I have this feeling that if you told me everything that goes on in sales, I'd be in for a shock or two."

She thought she saw on his face a look of amusement, and smiled at him.

"Yes, I know, it's a little ridiculous, and maybe pathetic."

Then her tone became more serious. "But it wouldn't really bother me. I care about my guys in sales, more than I care about George. Hell, more than I care about myself. There's so much at stake for them. It just seems like there ought to be a way for me to fit in, even with all of my handicaps."

She had really been holding a lot in. Once she opened up to talk it seemed therapeutic for her to assess everything out loud to me, even confiding her conservative upbringing. I was also surprised at how quickly she had polished off her drink.

"It just seems like there ought to be a way for me to fit in, even with all of my handicaps."

I gave her a warm sympathetic smile as I refilled my glass from the bottle. She looked up at me emotionally slit open and exposed, with a trace of self-sarcasm in her lips. It was a sad smile, but an honest one. Her hair, that uncommitted hue between blonde and brunette gathered upon the shoulders of her blouse. Originally appeared grey but I now noticed was actually a dark shade of iris or plum and had a very subtle and intricate embossed floral pattern in the threading.

"Focus a little less on the details," I advised. "Trust us with them. Manage the big picture more."

Her glass was sat empty before her. I walked around the desk to refill it, then set the bottle down. I took a sip of my own drink before putting that down too. There was a silent moment between us before I reached over the desk and clicked off the monitor.

"Work day is over," I said.

I stood up straight and inhaled before I crossed that boundary. Her tension called out to me, not only her emotional but her physical. Moving behind her chair, I pulled her hair back out of the way and rested my hands on her shoulders. I pressed my thumbs into the the flesh at the base of her neck and rolled my finger tips back and forth over the muscles in the tops of her shoulders.

Rebecca watched Doug refill the glasses, then she instinctively took a sip. There was a long silence, then Doug abruptly got up, turned her monitor off, and walked behind her chair. Perplexed, she followed him with her eyes. When he touched her hair, she twisted around to she what was happening, giving him a half-startled look. Then she felt his thumbs work into the flesh of her shoulders.

She sighed, relaxing somewhat. But this was so uncharacteristic--something she never imagined Doug doing, or anyone at the office for that matter. A thousand things raced through her mind: being discovered by someone, her work relationship with Doug, his relationship with the staff. Or maybe, for all those reasons, this was exactly what she needed--to put herself above all that shouldn't matter. She was sure Doug could feel her nervousness and felt she had to say something.

"Doug, is this really ok?"

The smooth fabric moved and shifted under my hands. Her tender flesh plied just beneath. At first I felt a heavy alleviation in her tissues but she quickly caught her freefall into total relaxation and craned her neck around to talk.

"Doug, is this really ok?"

Rebecca needed to be touched. She needed the touch that had long been denied her, or that she had denied herself, just as her denial was preventing her from deciding because she knew that she would just decide yes. She yearned for a man to take her burden from her and deal with it, to make her decision for her.

"Of course it is," I told her tenderly. "If it wasn't, you wouldn't be asking me. You would just say 'no'."

With a finger tip to her temple I guided her head back forward and stroked my fingers into her hair. Starting from her hairline, my finger tips found her scalp and dragged back, hand over hand, gently pulling her locks into line. Her head bobbed lightly with the motions each time my fingers found a tangle.

"Does that feel better?"

He was completely right of course. Rebecca had already decided not to resist. But she had wanted him to know that this was not an easy thing, that she was vulnerable, that she wanted to be able to trust him. She let out a deep breath, relaxed her muscles, and yielded to his comforting grasp.

"You're really good at this, Doug."

He was masterful in his technique. She felt herself release--her inhibitions, her need for control--and with that the release of a thousand stresses. Why had she not thought of massage before. There was this quickie massage place on Broad Street that she passed everyday on her way to and from work, only a few blocks away. She could do this anytime she wanted, even every day. She wondered if it would give her a better perspective on her life if she granted herself that kind of indulgence.

Her mind began darting from thought to thought. She would try to relax and concentrate on the blissful sensations. Then some random thing would jump in, like the way her mom used to scowl at what she'd wear to school if it was even the slightest bit provocative. Or the boy from her hometown who visited her a few years ago and left without ever contacting her again. Then she'd think of work, mostly about what it would be like after this happened, this massage, this new emotional channel that had opened up with Doug. Then he would do something new, find some new tense muscle, and she'd realize how her mind had been wandering. Was this normal, she wondered?

The light outside the window was fading, giving the room a subdued glow. Rebecca was really enjoying this. She wanted to turn around and give Doug an approving smile, but thought he'd just as soon she rather let herself drift farther and farther toward the peaceful place where he was leading her.

My hands moved back to her shoulders, rolling and kneading the muscles at the base of her neck. She was back on the path to loosening up. Then I moved my thumbs lower and dug them in along the edge of her shoulder blades. I pressed in, then moved an inch or so down and pressed in again, repeating until I was almost at the tips of her scapulae, then worked my way back up. When I had finished with her shoulders I then held her forehead with the tips of my fingers while my other thumb and finger rubbed up the back of her neck, stopping under the base of her skull. I held her there a moment, then rubbed down and back up and repeated.

The silence was calming. The bustle of the work day was long gone and only the hum of both the building's ventilation above and the traffic below could be heard.

With her neck in the grip of my thumb and forefinger she certainly seemed much more loose. Looking down at the top of her head I could see the small tip of her nose, and below that the small but inviting welts in her blouse that were her hidden breasts. Slowly and evenly they gently rose and fell as she breathed.

My fingers found her scalp again and I stroked her hair back like I had before, but this time after a couple of strokes I tilted her head back and looked straight down into her eyes. Then I traced my finger along her nose, over her lips and to her chin. What I was about to do next would either cause sparks, or get me fired. I leaned down over her and kissed her softly on the mouth.

It all happened so quickly. Rebecca's mind was a million miles away when suddenly Doug's movements slowed, then his hands moved smoothly over her face, then she met his gaze, then he leaned over her, then his lips brushed softly against hers. He had kissed her.

"Doug?" Emerging from deep relaxation, Rebecca's mind struggled to make sense of this. She pulled away from him, surprised and perplexed by what had happened. Their eyes met again. She studied his face, looking for clues to explain what he had done.

She could see desire in his eyes, the deep and unrelenting gaze on her, his urges penetrating her like a fine mist, following every crevice of skin to her most private places. She was sure no man had ever looked at her with such certainty, and the pleasure he imagined thrilled and also frightened her. She had never really thought of Doug physically, and now his body stood above her, all of its needs directed at her, all of its mysteries there for her to reveal. Yes, she was afraid, but she knew that what he wanted from her she needed also.

At the same time, he seemed to be asking her permission. Doug had taken a huge risk with that kiss, though she felt pretty sure he knew that it was what happened next that really mattered. Another kiss, and they could both be fired. But she knew something of all that went on with the sales staff, all the dark secrets their lives held. If she transgressed, she would become part of that world, more beholden to its secrets than to "old man Sweigert," as they said.

But what worried her most was the wince of rejection on his face. She had pulled away from him just as he had taken this risk. She felt the weight of her upbringing, she felt herself captive to her prudishness, her inexperience, her awkwardness, her fears. She needed to act quickly to subdue her instincts.

"Doug? You know, it could be...." Rebecca realized she had so many conflicting emotions that she had no idea what to say to him. But she needed to blurt something out.

"You know, Doug, if that were to happen again, it would change everything. It would have to be completely secret. We'd have to worry about every look we gave each other, every word we spoke. No one could know. I get the idea you're used to that kind of thing but this is new for me. This is all just out of my comfort zone."

Rebecca stopped abruptly, feeling she'd said too much already. She was practically trembling with anxiety. She stood up, turning to look at him, watching for some comforting sign that she had not ruined everything.

She pulled back. It wasn't exactly fireworks but there was definitely a spark. I could see it in her eyes and in the rise and fall of her breasts. Not that she was breathing heavily, but the tempo had quickened, like horses tugging at tightly held reins, ready to burst into a brisk canter at the first command. I certainly hadn't been fired.

"You know, Doug, if that were to happen again, it would change everything. It would have to be completely secret. We'd have to worry about every look we gave each other, every word we spoke. No one could know. I get the idea you're used to that kind of thing but this is new for me. This is all just out of my comfort zone."

The fact that Rebecca was actually contemplating the logistics of it all out loud confirmed how badly she wanted to let go and just give in to her suppressed passion, even if she was continuing to suppress it. She was talking too much and not feeling. She was afraid of feeling things that she figured (for whatever reason) she shouldn't be feeling - probably even ashamed of feeling. She was afraid of admitting some sort of vulnerability to herself. The talking was her defense system, her brain trying to take over a situation that was governed by the heart by rationalizing things. As if carnal want could be rationalized.

"It's okay," I said calmly and strolled over to the window. It was quite dark, dark enough that the semi-lit office reflected our own images back at us off the glass until I got close enough to cut a shadow to see outside to the building across the street. The grey drudgery out there. A concrete building gridded with windows. It had totally different stylings to the masonry and sconces than ours, but damned if any of us could even be bothered to tell one from the other. I gave the cord a pull and the curtains slowly shut. Then I walked to the door.

"Shall we close up?" I asked.

Rebecca felt a sudden agony. The fact was that even though technically nothing had happened, emotionally she had already crossed that threshold. She knew the aching inside her wouldn't go away.

"Uh...sure, it's getting really late."

Doug was facing the window, his back to her. She felt horrible for stopping him. Why couldn't he look at her so that she knew it was ok? No wonder there were no men in her life, she thought, if it was always this difficult. Suddenly she hated herself for letting her guard down even slightly. She felt safe being the stoic, emotionless accountant. She didn't need this drama in her life.

She dragged her briefcase from under the desk, stuffing her laptop inside. Her eyes welled with tears, but she fought off the hurt and anger and stood up, turning towards Doug at the window.

"That felt real good, Doug. The massage, and also the kiss. It's not something that happens to me very often."

She threw her coat over her arm and her purse over her shoulder. Doug still hadn't answered. Now the tears came back, and she fought them off again.

"I just want you to know I enjoyed it."

"That felt real good, Doug. The massage, and also the kiss. It's not something that happens to me very often. I just want you to know I enjoyed it."

There was a trace of a tremble in her voice and perhaps even a sniffle. With an easy understanding stride I stepped her way and slowly removed the folded coat from her arm and briefcase from her hand. Placing them neatly at the foot of the small couch I returned to her and took her face in my hands. My thumb wiped the wet from the cornerr of her eye. Her irises glistened softly with emotion.

Leaning in I kissed her once more, deeply, but when it came time to break it off, instead I shifted into a higher gear and penetrated her mouth with my tongue. Slowly I probed, tasting her palate and gums as my palms pressed into her back, sweetly crushing her against me. As our mouths separated and our chests parted the tension between could be felt radiating upwards and away. My hands slid around her ribs to cup her breasts as I gazed down into her eyes with caring authority, sweet and total control.

Doug’s kiss was devastating. Rebecca knew now that there was no going back, her life was on a new course now, defined by this moment. The gods she once worshipped were now slain, and in its place the goddess inside her was awakening.

He now grasped her breasts with his hands. As he did this he gazed deep into her eyes. She wanted him so desperately now, but she wondered, did her eyes convey that? She knew there were demons still fighting inside her. She reached her hand up and touched his cheek.

“Doug I want this from you, I need this. And if I do or say anything that leads you to believe otherwise, please, please ignore it.”

She didn't have to tell me. I had already known how much she wanted it, how much her body ached, to be touched, to experience some sort of evidence that she was desired. I was determined to prove to her just how desirable she was.

We kissed again, deeper and wetter, but softer. When we broke off, I had taken her wrist and unbuttoned the neat cuff. The other wrist followed. Slowly I tugged the bow of her blouse collar loose. The first button exposed, I unfastened it, then the next. With each button I could feel the heat and tension escape her body. Soon her blouse was parted to reveal her bra. I reached in and caressed the fabric, then palmed her soft tits. Taking her close against me for another kiss, my hands slipped around behind her to unclasp her and in the return motion slid under the loose cups to fondle her breasts. Her taut nipples were hot in my palms.

My next kiss was just under her jaw. Then suckled softly on the side of her neck and collar bone. Backing her gently against the door I bent down and took her nipple in my mouth, lapping over it with my tongue before tugging it sweetly between my teeth. It was starting to get pretty warm in that suit.