Internal Office Affairs

Warren's secretary wasn't at her desk. It wasn't exactly polite, but I'd known Warren a long time, so I opened the door to his private office and started in without knocking. Jean Deering sat on the edge of Warren's desk. She wasn't taking dictation. She wore a brown and white plaid skirt and a dark brown sweater—her skirt was up around her waist and her sweater had been rolled above her breasts. Warren still had a hand on one of her ripe breasts, with a nipple peeking between two fingers as he lunged back and forth between her legs.

I had often admired Jean's shapely legs. Now I had a chance to admire them fully as I saw the expanse of beautifully formed thighs all the way to her hips. I had once made love with a girl while she sat on a desk and she had wrapped her legs around my waist, her heels thumping my buttocks. Another girl had wanted to raise her legs and rest one on each shoulder. Jean was not like either of those girls—she simply sat with her legs straight out, her knees bent only slightly.

Easy to see that Warren was having a hell of a good time—judging from the way he lunged so eagerly. Jean wasn't moving but her pleasure was apparent in the expression on her face. Her eyes were half closed, a smile of pure contentment on her lips—until she saw me at the door, then her eyes bulged as the smile vanished, her lips formed a small "O," a soundless gasp.

By the expression on my face, I said, "Sorry!" and quickly retreated, trying to silently close the door. Warren hadn't seen me. As I returned to my office, I wondered if Jean would tell him I had accidentally burst in during their little spin-the-secretary game.

International Engineering, Inc. had been organized only a few years before but it had grown by the proverbial leaps and bounds. The idea was a fairly new one—a large international corporation building housing developments in countries all over the world. There were certain inherent problems and certain advantages as with any new type of business but all the bugs were being ironed out and a lot of dollars were being made. Warren and I had joined at such an early stage that we had been boosted to executive positions in a relatively short time. In a few more years we'd be vice presidents. Or, at least, one of us. International Engineering was a streamlined corporation. There were no real jobs and it wasn't burdened with excess personnel.

Unexpected Phone Call

Jean Deering called me at 11:30. I glanced at my watch, remembering I had bumped into her and Warren around 9:00. It had taken her over two hours to either decide to call me or to build up the courage. Before she could say why she had called, I said, "Jean I want to apologize for barging in on you like that. Warren and I have known each other so long, I... well, I should’ve have known better than to just pop a private office. I'm sorry.'"

Her voice was tense. Warren had her in a good position on the edge his desk but I had placed her in awkward position. She knew I was Warren's friend and she knew I was acquainted with his wife. "I want to to you, Roger. I feel I should explain something.''

I said there wasn't any need to plain but she insisted. After some discussion about the how and where, we agreed to meet at a small restaurant almost, half a mile away. We felt no one from International Engineering would go that far from the offices during work hours and we could also have our lunch there.

The meeting was even more awkward than I had expected. Although Jean had asked for the meeting, she seemed to have lost all her courage and couldn’t force herself to say what she'd planned. She was too nervous to eat and I didn’t want to eat with her just sitting there. After we both admitted we didn't have an appetite, we ordered drinks. We spoke some time talking about company business, the weather, a few other forgettable things and then Jean blurted, "I don't know how to work it into a conversation... I'll just say it bluntly."

She paused, shrugged her shoulders and said, "Since you're Warren's close friend, I felt I should explain my relationship with Warren. It's nothing really. That is, nothing serious.” She shrugged again as she studied and toyed with her drink, "Warren and I are great friends. Obviously. But... only that I'm not in love with him. I'm married but I'm bored with my marital sex life. Making love with Warren is a refreshing excitement. That's all."

Her complete honesty surprised me. almost stunned me. I said, 'I admire your honesty. The usual routine would be to say you're deeply in love with each other and found each other irresistible.'

She smiled. "My mother told me to always tell the truth whenever possible.”

Jean is brunette. Cute nose. Sensual mouth above a small chin. Overall, she's very attractive, a nice package. I finished my drink and signaled for two more. She said, "I'm not trying to steal Warren away from his wife. In a way, I'm happily married but..." She shrugged again and I understood that although happily married she needed that occasional bit of refreshing excitement. "There's one other thing I want to make clear. It wasn't Warren's fault if you want to call it fault. I seduced him. Very carefully and very deliberately.”

"Your honesty is showing again. I think it's customary for the woman to blame the man." Our fresh drinks arrived. After the waitress left. I said, "Does Warren know I saw the two of you... together?"

She blushed slightly—the first time she had blushed during this meeting and nodded negatively. We drank the new drinks in silence and then she asked, "I want you to be honest with me... as honest as I've been with you. Do you intend to tell Warren’s wife?”

"No. I wouldn't gain anything by putting a wrench in his marriage."

She seemed relieved. We went back to the office shortly after that. Warren left on a week's vacation the following Saturday and, Tuesday, I went down to Jean's office.

I went at the wrong time. Keller happened to be there. Keller was taking over part of Warren's work during his vacation and had stopped in to pick up some mail and letters that Jean had typed. Although Warren and I had both lived in the same small town and knew each other well, Keller was one of International’s employees who I knew only slightly. We nodded briefly at each other and, to explain my presence, I said, "Jean, did Warren mention where he's going on his vacation? I wanted to call him about something... not important... but I thought you might have the number where he's staying.”

"Yes. He's staying at a hotel near Oceanview. He gave me the number. I have it here somewhere..."

While she fumbled through the papers in a drawer, Keller left the office, frowning. Frowning at the papers in his hand. He didn't like the idea of filling in for Warren. He had paid as much attention to my presence as he had to the filing cabinet in the corner.

After he left, Jean looked up, her expression seemed to say, "Do you really want Warren's phone number... or do you want something else?"

I said, "You were honest with me so I'll be honest with you. As you probably know, I'm not married. You said you became involved with Warren because you needed some occasional refreshing excitement... and you said you had seduced Warren. I wondered..." I grinned. I guess I might have looked a bit sheepish. "I wondered if you could seduce me.”

Her mouth sagged. My approach had surprised her. She blushed. She stammered, "I... I'm not sure...''

"Everybody needs some refreshing excitement now and then,” I confessed.

Browsing for Blueprints

She nodded that she could understand that. As if to change the subject, she said, "Will you excuse me a minute? I have to find some blueprints on Warren's desk."

At Warren's office door, she hesitated. "Maybe you can help me. Mr. Keller wants the prints for the house they've named the Eldorado, but I understand it was named after the prints were made. Do you know what the Eldorado looks like?"

"I think I do."

We went into Warren's office. I started looking through the blueprints on the desk and noticed from the corner of an eye that she closed and locked the door.

We stood side by side for a while, going through the prints. She wasn't wearing a sweater today. She wore a low-cut blouse that hung forward slightly as she bent to look at the prints. When I glanced sideward, I had an excellent view of her breasts—pale and soft and round, cupped by a snowy bra. Her perfume had an expensive, sweet, totally female scent.

"Here it is.” The Eldorado had an expandable attic—easy to identify when you knew what to look for.

“Oh. Thank you. If you hadn’t helped me, I would've had to carry all the prints to Jennings in Engineering and asked him."

"My pleasure."

"You deserve a reward." She stood on her toes and slipped an arm around my neck as she kissed me.

She may have intended to give only a brief kiss but her mouth felt too warm and soft and sensual. I placed a hand at the back of her neck and pressed to keep her from breaking the contact. I slipped my other hand to the small of her back and drew her hips against mine. I kissed her so hard that she began to whimper in a sort of gentle protest. I relaxed the pressure but slid both my hands to her breasts and, in a few minutes, moved both hands up beneath her skirt.

"No... wait... you'll wrinkle my skirt. She unbuttoned and unzipped the side of her skirt, letting it fall to the floor. stepping out of it, picking it up and draping it across Warren's chair. While she still had her back toward me, I slid her panties down her hips.

When she turned around, she was more than ready, she was burning for it, breathing heavily, her hands shaking as she helped me get rid of my clothing. I saw then, realized fully for the first time—extramarital activity for Jean Deering was more than an emotional release or a psychological drive or even refreshing excitement as she had said, it was a necessity. Her sexual craving must be much larger than her husband's ability to satisfy.

She sat on the edge of the desk. I stepped forward between her thighs. She gasped with pleasure as I entered... closed her eyes as we began. She was quiet for awhile—until the tempo reached a frenzy—then she began to moan as she jerked her hips—grunting with her completion as she reached it much sooner than I had expected her to. Since she had already reached her ultimate in physical pleasure, I went on and on, using the beautiful warm clasp of her body to satisfy my own desires until I joined her in that state of complete satisfaction.

Afterwards, when we talked about meeting again, I suggested we meet at a hotel. I told her I knew a good small hotel where none of the International Engineering employees were staying. I pointed out the advantages. If we went to a hotel right after work, we could have an hour or two together. We wouldn't have to worry about someone knocking on the door and interrupting. We'd be able to take everything off and really relax with each other (a gleam came in her eyes when I mentioned the advantage of being able to remove ALL our clothing). Plus, I mentioned briefly, we'd be able to take a shower afterwards.

"How about tomorrow?" I asked.

Naked with Passion

The next day, in the hotel room, nude, Jean Deering was a completely different woman. She had been passionate on Warren's desk but, nude on the expanse of a soft bed, she was on fire. She wanted to try one position after another (I had the impression that her husband was always reluctant to try different positions). She moaned and sighed and groaned. She had three climaxes altogether and I had never seen a woman enjoy herself so much.

We did a repeat performance Thursday and Friday. She was totally sold on the idea of a hotel room—she had seen all the advantages; she agreed it was much better than a few square inches on a desk.

As we lay in bed Friday afternoon, smoking, spending a few minutes together before preparing to leave, I said, "We've always been honest with each other. Honesty must be a habit. I feel I should keep on being as honest as possible so far as we're concerned. I'm in love with you. I know I am. It's more than refreshing excitement. But I'm primarily in love with your body. It's great. And in love with the way you make love. That's great, too. But... although I'd like to have you forever, I don't think I'd make a good husband and I wouldn't feel right breaking up another guy's marriage. Even if we did marry, I don't think it would work because I think you're the kind of woman who needs more than one man. If I couldn't have you completely, I'd rather just have you now and then."

I waited. I didn't know how she'd take all that. When I looked at her, I saw her face held no anger—only a sort of softness. She touched my cheek, her eyes were moist, she said, "You're the most honest man I’ve ever known."

I went on vacation the following Monday. At about 10:00 PM Monday night, I stopped by to see Warren's wife. We had a few drinks together and then we went to bed.

Switching Sides

Patricia was an entirely different type of woman than Jean. She had come from a wealthy family. That may not have been the reason but sex with her was always cool and calculated. Good but still cool. Non offbeat positions. No “vulgar” language. She didn't grunt and groan when she had a climax—she sighed so softly you could barely hear the sound.

As we lay in bed afterwards, she said, "So... you're convinced that Warren is making love to his secretary?"

"Positive. The week before his vacation, I stopped at his office. They had the door locked but, judging from the sounds inside, they weren't playing tiddly winks."

"The private detective hasn't been able to get any evidence so far."

"That's because Jean, his secretary, has always made love with Warren in his office. A private office in a large corporation is just about impossible for a detective to reach. But... Well, I happen to know Jean is also making it with another man at International...”

"That dirty little tramp," Patricia hissed.

"The man told me about it. He bragged and told me a number of details. From what he says, I have a feeling that Jean will have a craving to make love at a hotel rather than in an office. He said Jean really likes the comfort of a hotel bed." I chuckled. "It's ironic. He's given Jean a taste for hotel rooms. Before that, she was content with private offices."

Patricia's face brightened. "Then..."

"Exactly. Jean will probably coax Warren into making love with her at a hotel rather than his office. The private detective will be able to get the master key and take some photographs."

"I don’t want to take it to court,” Patricia reminded me. "I'll only use the evidence to force him to grant me a divorce." She bit her lower lip. "Sometimes I think he doesn't love me at all. Sometimes I think he only married me so he could inherit my father's business and money through me."

"It's hard to tell what a person is thinking. We shouldn't judge him too harshly."

She placed a hand on my arm. "You always think the best of everyone. You're so honest. At least I know YOU love me. You started to love me when you had only hope of spending a few hours with me... you loved me when you had nothing to gain except my love."

"That's all I've ever wanted.'' I kissed her. As we kissed, I slipped a hand between her thighs and pressed gently, probing into her soft warm core. I knew I could arouse her so we'd make it one more time before we fell asleep.

The future looked bright. I had paid the detective $200 to keep my name out of his report. Plus I'd helped him. Now Jean would have a fondness for hotel rooms. The detective would catch Jean and Warren together. He'd get some dandy photographs. Patricia would use the photos to divorce Warren and, after a suitable time, after I'd married her, I'd have her and her money.

Eventually I'd have her father's business. He was a tough old bird but his heart wasn't the best and he wouldn't live much longer. I'd see to it that the right people at International knew Warren’s wife had divorced him because he'd been fooling around with a married woman. The powers at International frowned on that sort of thing. I should get the next vice presidency instead of Warren. They might even coax Warren out of the company altogether.

As I slid into Patricia's beautiful body—my aching hardness sliding once more into moist tight softness—the future looked even brighter as I remembered how Jean had touched my cheek and said, "You're the most honest man I've ever known."

Good girl. In more ways than one. If they shoved Warren out of the company, I'd get her as my secretary.