Chapter Five of Seven - Completed

Tony, one of the partners who own the large corporation all of them work for, is coming to Omaha to meet with Jim. How will they ever explain Jill?

Friends Four Life
Gill: A Girl Friend
By Angela Rasch

Chapter Five
A Visitor From the East

I knew something was up when Debbie came to the door at 2:00 in the afternoon.

“Tony’s coming to Omaha,” she said.

One of the partners? Why is he coming back so soon? He was in charge of fifteen offices like mine and made a visit to each office, every six months.

At one time, I had valued our friendship and admired him. About a year ago, I had been told by a trusted source that Tony had used his position, to have sex with at least two National Corporation employees.

Supposedly, he had been able to buy his way out of trouble. Both women allegedly had been paid off and then left the company. Somehow his partners hadn’t found out and/or taken action. He’s a slick, that much I know from personal observation. The rest is an unsubstantiated rumor.

National Corporation is closely held, and not publicly traded. Tony had told me that Jerry, Austin, Karl, and he owned the entire company, each having twenty-five percent of the stock.

At company meetings that were held in Boston, the employees were required to wear a company tie or scarf in the color of their team. The teams consisted of all the people who worked in those divisions that were managed by a particular partner.

Tony’s team color was yellow.

The company had no managing general partner, as they had split the management duties for the company, into four equal parts. Periodically the teams were pitted against one another to create a positive competitive spirit.

A few of the company ties and scarves had a stylized ST embroidered on them. It was some kind of badge of distinction. The home office gave them out. But they wouldn’t tell us the criteria for earning the ST designation. A person’s title didn’t seem to matter.

Tony had laughed one time when I had asked him how I could get one. “I seriously doubt you’ll ever be awarded a ST tie,” he had said.

As I was accustomed to winning I had been taken aback by his attitude. I assumed the ST stood for superlative: largest, biggest, best, or most. Our office performed admirably, but somehow no one in my division had been awarded an ST tie.

Every now and again, I saw a new ST tie or scarf on someone from either the home office or some other division. They weren’t awarded in public, so it was a mystery to me, and everyone I asked.

Perhaps I’ll be awarded a tie for the Taste of France. If so, I’ll refuse the honor. I don’t want an award for initiating a sexist idea.

“Tony wants to meet with you and your doctor to talk about your prognosis,” Debbie said. “The home office is impressed with how you’ve handled things, from your sickbed. They don’t want to lose you, to some virus.”

Debbie had taken us to a coffee shop. She was having a Latte. I was drinking Evian.

“How’s the office doing?” I asked, feeling guilty that I hadn’t thought about it in weeks.

“I made a pact with Sarah and Anne that we’d never talk about work, with you,” she said. “Your obsession with work was a big part of your shortcomings.”

Why had she chosen the word “obsession?” I had bathed with a bar of Obsession soap that morning. When Obsession is used sparingly it is a truly wonderful scent. When overused, it has an obnoxious odor somewhat like kerosene.

I smell okay, which is a big personal issue. I had once used scents to feel sexy. But I had changed during my stay in the motel, to where my top priority was to smell clean. If I could have found a perfume that smelled like bedding just taken off a clothesline, it would have been my favorite. Nina Ricci’s L’Air du Temps used sparingly was close. “Blue” by Ralph Lauren also seemed to almost meet that description.

“I can tell you this much,” she said. “The office is meeting, or exceeding, every goal that you had established.”

I was a goal setter: long-term, short-term, interim, individual, and office. The goals I had established were far above the goals set by the home office. With what Debbie is telling me, I can’t imagine why Tony is making the trip to see me. He could have easily taken the doctor’s report by phone.

He and I can’t possibly meet face-to-face without him noticing some of the changes. How will he react? I like what has happened to me, but I’m not at all confident Tony will understand.

“Do you think we could use a room, in the hospital where I had my nose fixed?” I had conceived the early stages of a plan that involved a dark hospital room and a short visit, because of my “extremely frail” condition. We needed to buy time to create a strategy, for Jill, to gradually integrate into National Corporation.

“That won’t be necessary,” Debbie said. “We’ve got an idea. Jim will supposedly be in the hospital. Jill will be Tony’s date.”

“What!”

“You know how Tony is with women.”

I nodded. Evidently, Debbie has heard some of the same gossip I have about Tony’s philandering. I had never discussed the rumors with anyone in our office. My sources were two other divisional managers.

“We need you to get him in a compromising position,” Debbie said. “We’ll create an opportunity for him to be his awful self — with your cousin - Jill.”

“You’re crazy,” I said, gently. “He’ll know who I am in a second and have all of us fired. He knows that the four of us are close. He’ll assume a conspiracy. Why don’t I meet him, at the airport, dressed as I am today?” I was wearing a white embroidered, marine-stripped skirt and navy linen ruffle pullover blouse. It was something I found the day before. I just had to wear it immediately. “I’ll explain everything to him.”

“The man’s a pig. He won’t be the least bit compassionate.”

I was shocked by Debbie’s abrupt condemnation. “He doesn’t have to be compassionate, he just needs to be prudent,” I said. “National Corporation needs us more than we need them. The non-competes we entered into when we sold to them will expire, in four months. If he doesn’t like what he sees, and makes a problem -- we can leave and start over. Our clients will follow.”

“Yes, we can make it without National Corporation’s support. But there are bigger considerations.” She looked away and seemed to be composing herself. What was coming apparently would not be easy for her to say. “Tony needs to be stopped. You can do it.”

Me? Stop Tony? “Do you want me to go to the other partners?” I asked.

“We don’t trust them -- any more than we do Tony. Something isn’t right, we need to get him, and you can do it.”

I assumed there were reasons that I didn’t know yet why my friends wanted me to pull this scam. Looking into her eyes I found the confidence I needed, to consider her ideas.

During the ordeals with creating and then selling our business, I had been the “main man.” Every decision had followed my lead. Things were very different after the last few weeks. I could never be like that again. I had bonded with them. We were a true team, and we would reach a consensus before acting. I was willing to follow any lead that made sense.

“He won’t know you,” Debbie said. “You’ve lost thirty-five pounds. With the proper padding and foundation assistance, you have a lovely figure. Your new hair color is all woman. The way you carry yourself is entirely different and your voice matches the rest of you.”

I could see by her eyes that she was telling the truth. There wasn’t a twitch in sight.

“Two things,” she said. “First, your teeth have to be fixed.”

“My teeth?” Although they weren’t the whitest, I had a nice set of teeth.

“You have very distinctive teeth, Jill. We need to make them ‘un-distinctive.’ They need to be capped. Also, we think you need glasses.”

“I have perfect vision.”

“That’s just it. We want you to be a ‘perfect vision’ for Tony.” Debbie grinned.

Obviously, she’s relishing the idea of using me as bait for Tony, much more than I am. To Debbie, it’s natural for a woman to entice a man into a position she wants him to be in. But it’s almost impossible for me to imagine myself having feminine wiles.

She went on with their plan. “Tony is arriving on a late afternoon flight. Sarah and I will pick him up at the airport. We’ll tell him he can’t see you until the next morning because of hospital rules. We’ll take him to the hotel. Plans and reservations will have been made in advance for him to go out on the town with Anne, Sarah, and me. Jill would be brought along for the evening as she supposedly is living with Sarah until she can find her own place. You will be introduced as Jim’s cousin, who is just starting with National Corporation. The evening will be something of a company orientation for ‘her’ – er – you.”

“Sounds risky.”

“It won’t be. Tony will have plenty to drink and ample opportunity to hit on you. You will be served up like a blue-plate special. He’ll think you’re young, single, and impressed by his position. Sarah and Anne will beg off early. You and I will go to Tony’s room, with him. I’ll get a phone call that supposedly is from home -- informing me of some minor catastrophe involving my daughter. I’ll leave you alone with Tony.”

“Alone? I don’t like the sound of that.”

“The room will be bugged and equipped with a camera to catch Tony’s every move. I’ll be next door waiting until he makes an offer a good girl would refuse, and BOOM. . .. We’ll have him on film sexually harassing a new employee. We will then have options.” Debbie said. “We’ll teach him a lesson and solve our current dilemma.”

I don’t really know what Debbie has in mind as options. Judging from what she’s pulled on me I have great faith that the options will be good for us and bad for Tony. Amazingly enough, the “teach him a lesson” part sounds like a great idea to me, even though I’m not sure what transgressions we’re talking about. Am I becoming part of the women’s club? It seems so --- and what we’re planning seems so right.

“Why me?” I asked. “Why don’t one of you, who have the right plumbing, set the trap?”

“Your plumbing,” Debbie said, blushing, “will never become an issue. There are valid reasons that it would be impossible for Anne to do it, believe me. It would be a stretch for Tony to believe that Sarah and I suddenly want him. We’ve sent him plenty of signals -- that we don’t.”

I knew that Debbie wouldn’t tell me more about Anne, and I had seen Sarah and Debbie almost snub Tony, in the past.

“We need legal advice to avoid our deception being ruled entrapment,” I said. “You should bring in the best. Rebecca’s the best, by far.”

“I agree. We need her help.”

“Be honest with me, Debbie. Has everything we’ve been through together, over the past few weeks, been about settling some sort of score, with Tony? Was it him that said something terrible to Anne the night of the Taste of France?”

“I’m not at liberty to say what happened to Anne. We did what we needed to do to give you a chance to find your place in life. The process honestly had nothing to do with Tony -- until now. His coming back to Omaha so soon is purely coincidental and is as much a surprise to us as it is to you. We thought our process with you would have been finished long before his next visit. I wish I could be more open with you. I’ve probably told you more than I should have, as it is.”

Debbie didn’t ask for my trust. I just gave it to her.

***

My mouth was fixed with “Chiclets.” I became a dazzling Scarlett Johansson.

Debbie was right as usual. The clear-glass eyeglasses were a good touch, in that they softened my face, and gave me an entirely new image.

We spent hours shopping for the perfect outfit. Everything was new from the skin out. Even though I would stop Tony’s advances long before he got to my undergarments, I would be more confident if my lingerie was sexy. It would definitely be a silk-stocking evening.

The skirt we picked stopped just above ankle length. It was a Dolce & Gabbana -- a steal at $949. Its movement gave me the look of a young girl. It was lined with pure silk that rustled as I walked.

Anne said that the French word for that sound was froufrou.

The skirt featured a sultry slit seam on the left side with two flowers on the hip. There was a row of vertical buttons that added the ultimate feminine touch. With the skirt, we selected a Natasha naked v-neck cashmere sweater, with long sleeves. It suggested I was a bit younger than we all knew me to be.

My jewelry was a plain gold chain and small gold button earrings. I had found black Brazilian boots with six-inch uppers and a one-inch heel. They were glove-soft and looked a little like granny boots -- but had a more stylish square toe.

I wanted to wear a long enbeetah bias skirt with zebra print, done on a burnout velvet. With it, I could have worn a chocolate brown top that would have stopped traffic. It was decided I should be more demure.

I was close to ready.

***

“You have to take off your wedding ring, for your night, with Tony.” Debbie said.

It was the day before Tony was scheduled to arrive. We were having a double mocha treat at Crossroad’s and were sitting across from each other, at a small round table.

I was okay with everything that we had planned, up until that point. The week before, I had my ring downsized because of my weight loss. The fifteen minutes it was in the jeweler’s hands was the first and only time I had taken it off since our wedding ceremony, other than washing.

As Debbie spoke, Jackie’s face floated in my mind. I miss her. I miss our kids. I miss our home and my dog Champ.

Tears pooled in my eyes as I worked the band around my finger. Taking off my wedding ring seemed to be a very serious betrayal of our vows.

Debbie reached across the table. She sensed what I was thinking and gave my hand a squeeze.

“Soon, Jill. Soon everything will be taken care of. You’ve come so far.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know if I can do this. After my date with John, I thought a lot about what might have happened if the evening had gone on. I’m not so sure.... I’ve never thought of myself as homosexual or bi-sexual. But Debbie - I was attracted to John that night.” Tears betrayed my fear of what I had found out about myself. My confession had been painful. But it was a relief to have finally told someone.

“Are you afraid you might be a latent homosexual?”

“I’m a man who loves wearing women’s clothing. What do you think?”

“Jill, your lovely outfit will only help you catch a man, if you want it to. What you wear isn’t a factor in sexual preference. Despite what you’ve seen on TV, most women dress to impress other women, or to make themselves feel better. They’re rarely dressed to seduce a man.”

She’s right. How silly of me to mix those thoughts in my mind. My heart raced and my head spun as I tried to think of anything I knew about myself that was rock solid.

“I’m really scared,” I said. “I don’t know if I can stand to find out who I really am. I don’t want to be an effeminate homosexual and I don’t think I’m homophobic. I love Jackie. I want our marriage to go on and on. Is there some other way? I just don’t know.”

“You’ve been through a lot. Jackie knew you would be challenged. She knew you would have to experience certain things, to move forward, to a life that would work for your family.”

I tried to compose myself. They’re counting on me. Whatever I am -- I am. It’s time to face up to whatever that is.

Debbie took an envelope from her purse. For a moment, I thought it was the same letter from Jackie I had read weeks ago. Those few weeks now seemed like a lifetime.

The envelope was addressed to Jill: My Husband.

Dear Jill:

I’m so proud of you. You are amazing.

I have been impressed by everything your friends and you have accomplished, over the years. What you are doing now is mind-boggling.

We have a future. I look forward to sharing the rest of my life with you.

They’ve told me about Tony. I know how you’ve felt about his lack of moral fiber and I think what you are doing is great.

Jill — you do whatever you have to — to teach that man a lesson.

My work at the Woman’s Resource Closet has shown me the damage people like him inflict on others. He has to be stopped.

If you have to — well, just do what you have to.

I love you and will love you even more no matter what this involves.

I Love You.

I miss you.

Jackie

P.S. The kids have been told that your illness has made some drastic changes in you. They are prepared for a much different Daddy when you come home. They’ve seen recent pictures of you and have been told that the treatment for your virus has changed you into a woman. They think it will be cool to have two moms. They’ve never seen you so happy as in those pictures. Hurry home when you’re ready.

I had read online of men on hormones becoming emotionally unstable. I wasn’t on hormones and I didn’t think I was unstable. I was just happy, and my body was reacting in a normal way for a woman. I cried tears of joy, relief, and love.

I slipped off my ring. “Debbie, please give this to Jackie. Tell her I will be home soon, to have her place it back on my finger.”

Debbie wrapped my ring in a napkin and put it in her purse.

I got up from the table and then walked to the ladies’ room to fix my face. The click of my heels on the ceramic tile floor of the food court assured me I was going in the right direction.

***

They did a great job at the salon the afternoon, before our night with Tony. With the right hairstyle and youthful make-up, I looked like someone who might predict the weather, on the local news.

The only bump in the evening was the unexplained absence of Anne.

Tony asked me several times where she was, and I truthfully had no idea. Sarah said Anne was ill, which must have come on suddenly.

I was into my role, and my girlish desires were bubbling to the surface. I allowed my feigned emotions to show completely. My competitive drive was muted, so Tony had the floor all to himself.

I was one of the girls -- and a perfect target for Tony. I did my best to stay as far away from him, as possible.

Even so, Tony seemed to be attracted to me. He flirted incessantly.

Everything went like clockwork.

Sarah left citing an early morning.

Debbie made it seem perfectly natural for the three of us to end the evening in Tony’s room.

It was as if I was the star in a Debbie Nobisky production of “The Life and Times of Jill.” I was that movie character that you only know enough about, to allow the plot to move forward -- like the girl next door, in the horror movie, that opens the door everyone knows she shouldn’t.

Tony had ordered liver pate and wine from room service, so his spacious suite reeked of cold meat and fermented grapes.

The bulge in Tony’s pants and the number of times he had found reasons to touch my arms and shoulders, indicated that Tony considered me to be attractive.

Even though I knew of his track record with women, I was somewhat flattered by the impact I was having on his libido. My fingers were clumsy -- trying to hold my glass, as my heart was telling me to flee -- by pumping excess amounts of blood to my thighs. I covered for my nervousness by concentrating on projecting the image of an ultra-cool girl who had seen it all. That image was something I thought a young woman would try to assume.

When the pre-set call came in for Debbie, giving her an excuse to leave, I started to have second thoughts. Will I really know what to do? Can I send all the subtle messages needed to keep him sexually started? Can I do it? The plan is for me to pretend to be leaving with Debbie so that Tony can talk me into staying, sealing the validity of my role.

For a moment, I wasn’t pretending as I moved toward the door. I’m afraid of Tony. He isn’t a big man. When he and I had played racquetball at the home office court we were about equal athletes. With my weight loss, he outweighs me by about fifty pounds.

Before I could get out of the room, Tony begged me to stay, for one more drink.

Game on!

He said that we had “something” to discuss.

I had a pretty good idea what that something would be. My legs refused to carry me back toward him and away from Debbie, who was standing with me, at the door.

“Have another drink, Jill,” Debbie said. “You’ll be okay. We all trust Tony.”

It must have killed her to say that.

Her lie jolted me out of my terror. As soon as I moved back into the room, Debbie hastily said her goodbyes and then left.

Debbie had been to Rebecca’s office several times, without me, for conferences about our strategies. With Rebecca’s help, we had made improvements to our original plan.

Even though I hadn’t had the chance to personally meet with Rebecca, I agreed with what she had suggested.

We couldn’t afford any doubt as to Tony’s intent. Debbie had researched the details of the sexual harassment law.

I had to trade sexual favors for advancement with the company, in order for the case to have sufficient gravity. That would involve more than kissing or heavy petting.

Debbie and Sarah were actually in the next room, with a key to the adjoining doors.

Sarah had brought a stun gun, so all I had to do to bring her into the room was shout, if things got out of hand. I hoped Tony’s “thing” would soon be in my hand and the whole ordeal would be over. Our plan was for me to follow his instructions, which we assumed would be for me to give him a handjob.

I wasn’t totally sure I could touch his penis when the time came for him to come.

Under no circumstances would Debbie or Sarah come in -- unless I called for them.

If need be, I would take all night to implicate him.

Once we had the incident on tape, we would get him to voluntarily resign or change his ways, and I would have good leverage for corporate acceptance as Jill.

Once Tony and I were alone, he wasted no time making me a stiff drink. Judging by his crotch, my drink wasn’t the only stiff thing. We sat on the couch, and he immediately placed his arm around me -- causing his body’s heat to invade my space.

“Jill, you’re just starting on a brand-new exciting career with National Corporation. Tell me about your personal ambitions. Where do you want to be --five to ten years from now?”

I described the kind of career someone like faux Jill would want, carefully keeping my stated aspirations within realistic parameters, for the average employee.

As I talked, Tony played with my hair. “Is your sweater cashmere?” He asked. “It’s very soft.” He was fondling my shoulder and fingering my bra-strap.

I pretended not to notice.

“Jill, you’ve got to start thinking bigger. Someone with your personality and obvious talent can go a lot further than you think.”

Talent? He knows nothing about “Jill” other than what he can see in front of him. All doubts as to Tony’s reputation were fading with each stroke of his hand. He seemed determined to have his way with me. When will we start playing Let’s Make a Deal?

“Jill, do you know anything about office politics? Do you know what it means to attach yourself to the right coattails?”

Here we go. I know what he’s getting at. I had laughed over beers when one of the guys had used the old bromide, It’s not who you know - it’s who you gnaw. “Should I attach myself to your coattails, Mr. Warran?” I smiled, hoping I was being alluring.

Tony answered -- by probing my ear with his tongue.

No doubt he’s searching for my talent. Much to my surprise and dismay, I was becoming aroused.

He pulled in his tongue and gave me an unctuous smile. “Jeez, Jill. Call me Tony. I allow everyone who works under me, to call me Tony.”

Works under him? Is that phrase loaded, or what?

“It’s hot in here,” he said. “Do you mind if I get comfortable.” He got up to remove his jacket. In doing so he stuck his crotch as close to my face as he could.

I could smell the aroma of his manhood. The time was coming when I would have to touch him.

He turned off the lamps that were on both ends of the couch. “Jill,” he said, as he sat down. “I’ve been thinking about creating a new position in Boston. You might be just the person. Of course, there would be a large raise, in store for you. You would be my personal assistant. Your private office would be adjoining to mine. It would be an office suite, for my sweet.”

I giggled in forced appreciation, of his lame joke. “I don’t know. I sort of have a significant friend here. I’m not sure that I’d like to leave Omaha.”

“You’d love Boston. I could be your boyfriend, Jill. Would you like that? We could go to the Boston Pops and Celtic games. Boston is a great town. If you’re with the right person.”

It was clear Tony thought he was Mr. Right for me.

“My home life has been lousy lately,” he said. “Our kids are away to college and my wife has let herself go. I think she’s having an affair with the man who does our lawn. She’s not like you, Jill.”

I’ll bet she isn’t!

“Jill, do you believe in love at first sight?” Somehow his hand had found its way under my skirt. He rubbed my thigh.

Aaahhhh. I’m thankful I decided on silk stockings. I wonder if the friction between his fingers and my skin is as soft and tingly for him as it is for me.

He plucked my glasses off my face. His eyes showed no sign of recognition. I giggled again as I remembered the old doggerel.
Men don’t make passes,
At girls, who wear glasses.

Tony must have thought I was giggling because he was tickling me through my sweater. He looked at me and grinned.

Men are so egocentric.

I was in his arms.

His kisses weren’t as passionate as John’s had been, but they were oddly sweet.

I could tell he was trying to give me pleasure.

His hands were all over my body, and his caressing wasn’t all that hard to stand. He was gentle, yet firm. He was very firm, as I could tell by the hardness pushing against my thigh.

I was happy that I had taken the precaution of wearing a gaff. From self-exploration, I knew the breasts he fondled felt real, right down to the erect nipples.

“Mr. Warran -- Tony -- please stop. You’re rushing things. I’m a woman of virtue. Tony, I’m not stupid. What would happen if I moved to Boston and you got tired of me?”

“That just wouldn’t happen. I’m going to have to pull some strings to get you the assistant’s job. I won’t be able to just dump you. What would people say? You and I seem to have something special between us. This could become something permanent.”

“I’m new to working in business, Tony. Are you saying all I have to do is have sex with you and my career is set?”

“It’s that simple, Jill.”

It had been easy. All I had to do was whack him off, and we had him.

He gently pulled me from the couch to the king-sized bed common to the executive suites Tony always rented. The bed was a four-poster, an early American style that was sometimes called a cannonball bed. He tugged at my sweater, trying to get it over my head.

His desire to see me naked set aside my interest in identifying the furniture.

“You first.” I dodged out of his arms. Undoing his belt, I pulled it from his pants. I fumbled like someone who had never undressed a man before, even though I had undressed one, at least once a day for thirty-five years. I slid off his tie and loosened his shirt buttons. Reaching down, I untied and removed his ever-present wingtips. His foot powder had a pleasant aroma.

We maintained eye contact. He smiled like he was possessed, as I slipped off his pants.

My hands brushed his penis. Ewww. It had already created a damp spot on his boxers. Can I really take his penis in my hand and do — that?

He helped me take off his shirt. Tony looked simple-minded in his black socks, wife-beater undershirt, and boxers. . .with a raging hard-on.

I was still fully dressed and intent on staying that way. As I peeled off his socks, I thought briefly about sucking his toes. I had seen a woman do that in a movie. I wasn’t quite sure about the toes, so I did something to him I loved having done to me. I removed his undershirt and placed my head on his chest. “I love a man’s chest. You have such a nice body.”

He didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to. His cock flinched - - a good sign.

I outlined his nipples with my manicured fingernails, licking his entire chest from just above his navel to his neck. The small, tight curls of my girlish hairstyle framed my vision and lightly brushed his skin. I gradually centered on his nipples, chewing -- and then sucking.

He tasted faintly metallic and smelled of Right Guard. Not bad, but rather pedestrian.

All the while, I watched his eyes to monitor his satisfaction. The light coming from the partially open door to the bathroom allowed me to see him.

He didn’t blink.

I was being turned on by his adulation. I wanted to be considered lovable.

Finally, I took off his boxers.

Tony isn’t hung like a horse. Men like to drink beer and say, “Gawd. That sum-bitch’s hung like a horse.” It’s a heterosexual thing. Even though he isn’t in the equine arena, he’s no slouch. Tony’s erect cock was about nine inches long and about the diameter of a fifty-cent piece.

Tony held my right hand, squeezing it gently as I munched on his titties. He slowly guided it down.

I shouldn’t have worried so much. I know what to do. It was very smooth, warm, and familiar. Glancing down at my hand wrapped around him, I saw long, painted nails, on an exotic woman’s hand.

The power that was “him” pulsated, in appreciation of my touch.

Tony moved my face to his and then kissed me, playing with my tongue.

I moaned partly to fulfill the role I was playing and partly from lust. My body is stirred. Yes, I want to make sure we have good evidence on film, but there is electricity. As I immersed myself into the role, I found it easier and easier to grind my body into his.

Tony throbbed in my hand. Very pleasant. He’s aroused by my femininity. He’s accepted me as a woman -- and I lust for more of his intense approval.

I could sense my power. My fingertips paid special tribute to his knob. From years of zealous practice with instant feedback, I knew how to jerk him off. I appreciate the tantalizing value of a slow stroke. I’m thankful I had been using lotion, on my hands.

Even though Tony, with all his casting couch experience, was taking economic advantage of Jill, it was really Jill -- who was at the helm.

Tony stopped kissing me.

I don’t want him to. I’m enjoying the contact. Have I done something wrong? Am I losing control? What do I need to do to get him to kiss me again?

He pushed my head down to his chest.

Ah. He wants me to suck on his tits some more. I readily complied.

With something else in mind, he pushed my head further south. He wasn’t using a great deal of strength – but insistently directed me to where he wanted me to go.

I want to pleasure him, but I have my limits.

I looked into what had been a smiling face.

He had adopted the look of someone who was in absolute command. He wasn’t frowning. But I knew who the boss was.

“Jill, I think we’ve already developed a special connection. One of the reasons I’m leaving my wife is her aversion to oral sex. You don’t have a problem with oral sex. Do you?”

There it is -- an addendum to my work contract. Paragraph 8. Section A. Sub-Section 2. To gnaw me is to love me: Should the party of the first part (you) want the pre-stated home office job offered by the party of the second part (me). The party of the first part (you) shall let your lips do your talking and your tongue start a-licking.

Jackie’s letter. . . . What Tony wants me to do must be the “do what you have to” she had written about. Offer made / offer accepted. We would have a valid contract, as soon as I paid the consideration.

There’s no question what I have to do. If I had proved anything to myself during my journey from Jim to Jill, it was that I was adaptable. The plan had just changed.

Every story I had read that included oral sex mentioned the taste of the pre-come. The reports were right. It was salty. Peanuts! Popcorn! Penis!

I licked his lengthy log like a love lollipop, twisting it with my tongue. How will I ever get that entire thing in my mouth without gagging?

He didn’t seem to mind the time I spent lingualing him.

I attended to his balls, buffing them with my mouth. He’s a clean man and tastes fresh.

I expected him to close his eyes and fantasize. It’s said that turkeys fantasize they’re with swans when they’re having sex with their mates.

Tony obviously was thinking about me. He didn’t close his eyes for even a second.

I was proud of the pleasure I was giving him. Proud that he wanted to be with me. I wasn’t at all conflicted about what I had to do. I had signed on as the woman for the job. My job description had just been changed to cocksucker. Cocksucker. That word has been used so much it seems to have lost its original meaning. I was about to graphically define the term.

I sucked the tip of him into my mouth. He let out a groan that started just inches above my head, vibrating deep in his chest.

Could it be that his wife really won’t give him a blowjob? Hopefully, he’ll discharge quickly and I’ll be done.

On the other hand, I dreaded the idea of his come squirting into my mouth. My tongue danced around his cock’s head, as I lightly scraped my teeth over its ultra-smooth skin. I tried different pressure and varied the cadence of my mouth’s strokes.

His reactions told me that he loved everything I did.

I loved everything I did. I was lickerish, as I greedily supped. I found the spot just to the rear of his scrotum and massaged his prostate first with my nose, then lips, and then finally with my fingers.

My mission was to give him as much pleasure as possible. I had crossed the line. This man had picked me as his woman and had actually hinted at marriage. Ever since John had let me know that I was someone special, I had ached to be a good woman.

I want to know what it means to please a man. I’m going to give Tony wonderful fellatio.

I wasn’t competing with anyone. I was merely trying to be a good woman. I had gone into the evening looking to help right a wrong -- and then had gone down a path I hadn’t seen coming.

I found the ridges on his penis and introduced myself to every contour and vein, as I took the time to make sure he was enjoying himself. Every time I sensed Tony’s oncoming orgasm I eased off. I wanted the moment to last - - for both of us. I lifted my head to get into a position, to take more of him.

He understood and helped. He was fucking my face, even though I was on top. His thrusts were insistent as he poked at the roots of my tongue while banging the roof of my mouth.

I sucked, licked, and nibbled. My world centered on his cock and his pleasure. I played with both of his little titties with my fingernails -- rolling them, pinching them, and loving how hard they got.

It was lucky for us that my broken nose had been fixed. It would have been impossible for me to get enough air had the operation not opened my nasal passages. Breathing through my mouth would have been impossible anyway, as it had much better things to do.

I reached under him and grabbed both of his cheeks -- massaging him and pulling him further toward me. I strained my neck to “Deepthroat” his entire length. I took my eyes off his face long enough to glimpse, in the mirror, his pole sliding in and out, wet with my saliva. The sight of his balls bobbing so close to my nose added to my fervor.

His back arched, and he was still for a second or two. His eyes squeezed shut. His cock shook. I knew what was "come-ing" and started to pull away. I wasn’t going to swallow his juices.

But Tony had other ideas.

He cupped my head with both of his hands and kept me impaled on his staff. I tried desperately to break free. I scratched at his chest with the fingernails of my left hand while I tried to dislodge his hands from my head with my right.

My fingernails had drawn blood on his chest.

As his come shot into my mouth, his eyes opened wide, and he looked down at my left hand.

As spurt after spurt jetted into my mouth, I could see a peculiar look spread across his face.

He knows!

I had no choice but to swallow his hateful semen. I could no longer look at him.

He finally released my head. With my eyes closed, I rolled off him onto my back. I closed my eyes and privately celebrated. It didn’t matter what he knew.

We had him.

I had pleasured my man.

He was moving around, but I paid no attention. No matter what he did it would be over in a moment. I would call out for Debbie, and we would let Tony know he was closed for business.

I opened my exhausted jaws to shout. Nothing came out.

Tony had grabbed me. He was holding a damp rag over my nose and mouth. I struggled but he had leverage; size. . .strength. . .rag. . .chloroform. . .. “Mmmph. . ..”

(In Part Six we realize that the attempt to teach Tony a lesson went wrong, wrong, wrong. Jill finds herself at his mercy. It appears Tony has none.)

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Thanks to Gabi for the review and help.

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Stories available through Doppler Press on Amazon:
Shannon’s Course
Peaches
Sky
The Novitiate
Ma Cherie Amour
Molly
Texas Two-Step
All Those Things You Always Pined For
Uncivil
Swifter, Higher, Stronger
Basketball Is Life
Baseball Annie
The Girl Who Saved Aunt T’s
Her
She Like Me
How You Play the Game
Hair Soup
Perfectionists
Imperfect Futures
The Handshake That Hides the Snake