Norma's Panties is a portrait of the modern American woman as it has rarely been painted before, a portrait that skillfully highlights the intricate psychological features of a contemporary twenty-six year old career girl involved in a desperate struggle for a rewarding position in a man's world.
Norma Peterson, the subject of this work, is an attractive young woman with excellent business credentials, but a well-hidden secret, which if revealed can ruin her career. Her secret is that, because of deep-rooted psychological drives, she is compelled to expose her panties to young boys in order to find sexual gratification.
In spite of her intense sexuality, Norma Peterson appears cold and formal in the office. She channels her energy toward one goal - that of the vice-presidency - and competes fiercely with a male executive, Nick Saxby, to attain it. Her brusque manner rapidly succeeds in alienating, not only her rival, but many of the company's other employees as well.
Norma Peterson is thus a paradox. On the one hand she is possessed by a salacious desire to expose her panties to young boys, and on the other hand manifests a rigid intractable personality in the office.
Having posed this paradox, author Van Heller goes one step farther to point out what is behind it. In a poignant flash-back he portrays Norma Peterson as a thirteen year old tomboy at the helm of a boy's neighborhood touch football team. As quarterback and the only girl player, Norma engineers the one touchdown of the game, but in doing so, incurs the wrath of her young male opponents. In just a few swift moments, young Norma's childhood world is destroyed. The young boys have crudely pointed out to her that she is a woman and not just one of the gang.
The incident, of course, leaves a deep psychological scar, and from this point on, Norma seeks revenge on the one hand by exposing her panties to youngsters, teasing and tantalizing them but never allowing them to gain control over her. On the other hand, her injured pride manifests itself by her need to succeed in the male domain of the business world, and to do this she must appear to be tough-minded and ruthless.
Thus, the seemingly incompatible aspects of her personality derive from one single source - the need to avenge herself against the male sex.
But as in any great work of art since the time of Aeschylus, vengeance breeds vengeance, and once her secret is inadvertently discovered, the office workers led by Nick Saxby knock the high-handed Norma Peterson off her pedestal by means of a cunning scheme.
Mr. Van Heller has provided us with not only a fast-moving piece of entertainment, but a lucid analysis of complex psychological problems relevant to today's high-pressure society and, indeed, valid since the very beginnings of civilization.
-The Publishers
Chapter One
There were good reasons why the people at Cunningham Manufacturing Co. hated Norma Peterson, the new female marketing analyst. Immediately after the tall, aristocratic-looking brunette had assumed her post she began to make life unbearable for her underlings. Her first victim was the marketing department's head secretary, twenty year old Flo Jones, a buxom, shapely young blonde who had been working for Cunningham since graduating from high school.
Early one morning the newly installed female executive had called Flo into her office and abruptly informed her that her desk was about to be relocated.
"There's been far too much chatting between you and the other secretaries, Miss Jones. As of tomorrow morning your desk will be moved closer to my office so I can keep an eye on you."
Flo could hardly believe her ears. Here was this newcomer - a woman at that! - talking to her as though she were some sort of misbehaving school child. Flo, who never let herself be pushed around by anyone, nearly blew a gasket.
"Miss Peterson, you may be my boss, but you're certainly not going to tell me where I can sit and where I can't sit," she retorted angrily, her fair cheeks flushing bright red.
But the new executive merely peered through her black-frame glasses and said in a cool commanding tone of voice: "Miss Jones, you'll do exactly what I say without asking any questions."
And that was the end of the incident. Flo, boiling with rage, retreated to her desk and began pulling drawers open and banging them closed, slamming her stapler on the desk top and shuffling papers with a seething helpless fury. From that moment on, the volatile young blonde vowed she was going to get back at Norma Peterson no matter what happened.
Feelings of vengeful hatred spread throughout the entire office when, during the second week of Miss Peterson's high-handed rule, a yellow form was distributed to all secretaries and clerical workers in the department. This form required that each worker fill in what he had done during the day and how much time he had spent doing it. There was no disguising who was behind all this, and the reaction among the office underlings was so violent that half of them threatened to quit on the spot.
Miss Peterson's antics didn't stop there, though. She also managed to alienate some of the other executives and even Cunningham's two top industrial salesmen, Don Richardson and Benny Smith. She did this by firing off memos criticizing their sales performance based on their weekly and supposedly confidential reports to the president, Arthur Cunningham.
In short, Norma Peterson, the high-powered business executive with a master's degree from a prestigious Eastern university, had managed to turn the whole office against her in a matter of weeks.
But while everyone had his pet gripe against the tactless career girl, the person most directly affected by her presence was Nick Saxby, the other analyst in the department and the person who nominally shared power with her.
Saxby, a handsome thirty year old bachelor, had a carefree easy way of handling things. He got along well with all the salesmen and the Cunningham clients he came in contact with, but as far as paper work and organization were concerned, he just didn't give a damn. He knew customers were often more satisfied with cheerful explanations of what went wrong than with long wordy letters they wouldn't read anyway.
Under the surface, though, Saxby was more than a free and easy playboy. For more than a year his eye had been on the post of marketing vice-president, which had been left vacant, and up to now the field had been clear. To his dismay, Saxby was beginning to realize that his only competition was going to come from a woman - a tough, icy career girl who already was giving him a run for his money. Norma Peterson, in fact, was threatening to grind him under her high-heeled shoes, figuratively speaking. She put in long grueling hours of work, made detailed marketing reports on new products, and prodded everyone under her to push themselves to the limit of their endurance. She was one hard-ass bitch, all right, Saxby thought to himself, but the funny thing was he could sense something intense and physical beneath that career girl act of hers.
It just didn't add up that a woman as attractive as Norma Peterson could be such a grind. Hell, she had the lushly curvaceous body of a movie star, the haughty polished manners of a European princess - and here she was burying her nose in papers for long hours every day when she could be out having a good time.
The clothes she wore didn't make sense either. As far as colors went they were usually conservative - something dark or tweedy that matched up with the way she wore her hair - tied back in an austere chestnut bun that went with her dark-frame glasses. But the conservatism stopped there, for the hem length of her dresses reached no lower than six inches above the knee. It was as though she purposely wore them this short to tease the hell out of the men in the office in some sort of perverse way. Sure she acted cold and stiff, but every time she bent down to pick something up and her dress flared out she became the center of attention. The men would stop what they were doing and crane their necks to get an eyeful of her lacy garter straps and the trim of her white nylon panties.
Nick could swear she did it on purpose, though the other guys thought he was crazy. His intuition told him that beneath her frigid manners was a real woman, a real sex siren just waiting to be let out. If only he could crack through the surface he was sure he could get the upper hand on her and put her in her place. But how? That was the problem . . . though not an unsolvable one for just by chance, Saxby's stronger ally in the office struggle had come across a rather unusual incident involving Norma Peterson.
It was the thought of this incident which caused the smile on Flo Jones's face as she traipsed up the stairs to the second floor of the Cunningham building early one Friday morning in the fall. What she had seen was nearly making her burst inside with glee. She had to tell someone, and that someone, of course, would be Nick Saxby. He would be dying to hear the news about the high and mighty Miss Peterson, the same Miss Peterson who was always so prim and proper in the office, but who had a secret life that up until now no one had known about.
Unfortunately, the young secretary was forced to contain her glee, for when she arrived at ten minutes to nine, Saxby was not yet in his office, and from past experience she knew he wouldn't show up for another half hour. Norma Peterson, on the other hand, was already hard at work, sitting at her desk and scribbling away on the rough draft report she was supposed to present to Cunningham later on that day.
Flo purposely avoided saying hello to her and headed toward the coat rack by the coffee machine where the other secretaries and the office boy had gathered. Sliding her bulky fur coat down off her shoulders she could see Davey Wilson ogling her breasts the same way he did every morning. God, he was a horny little bastard, she thought.
"What are you lookin' at, carrot face?" she sneered playfully.
"That's a nice coat you got, Flo," he snickered. "Does it shrink in the wash?"
The other girls giggled as the voluptuous blonde elbowed the slim redheaded teenager out of the way to hang her coat up and then bent down to insert her plastic cup below the spout of the coffee machine. She had more important things on her mind than Davey Wilson this morning, though Davey didn't bother to take his eyes off her.
He was accustomed to the rough-and-tumble way she talked, and in spite of it the youth could feel himself getting turned on every time she came within three feet of him.
Like now, for example, he had the distinct impression she was bending over the coffee machine an extra long time just to drive him crazy. His eyes wandered down to the hem of her tantalizingly short skirt beneath which he could see her black garter straps and the dark tight-clinging stockings which sheathed her fully contoured thighs.
Damn, he wanted to fuck her, he thought to himself. Half the guys in the office had done it already, but not him. She treated him like he was in the second grade, even though he was nineteen years old. He didn't know who was worse - Miss Peterson or her. One of these days, though, he was going to get inside her panties even it if killed him.
The object of the young office boy's lewd daydream, however, was suddenly summoned by Miss Peterson.
"Miss Jones, would you please come here," Norma called out from her desk. It wasn't a question, it was an order - it was always an order with this dame, the head secretary mused in disgust.
Flo stirred the sugar in her coffee, sighed deeply, and strutted slowly and defiantly toward her female boss, who was waiting impatiently.
"Please type this before ten, Miss Jones. I have a meeting with Mr. Cunningham and I need a final draft of my report, and try not to have any mistakes in it."
"Yes, Miss Peterson," Flo answered with polite sarcasm. She glanced at the clock on the wall and noted it was not even nine yet. Slavedriver, she thought to herself. But she wasn't going to last long . . . not when her secret was let out of the bag.
More than anything Flo wanted to confront this snotty bitch with a certain little piece of private information just to see how she would react, but she knew it wasn't time yet. No, she would just have to wait and act humble in front of Miss Peterson for the time being.
Obediently she settled into her typing chair and began to hammer out the report. But Miss Peterson wasn't satisfied to have just one person working before nine in the morning. Instead, she immediately called Davey Wilson into her office. Poor Davey, Flo thought to herself, he's going to get chewed out again. And she was right.
"Y-yes, Miss Peterson," the freckle faced redhead stammered.
"Davey, I received a call from Mr. Beeler, the purchasing agent at Stern Chemical Company. He said that he hasn't received the marketing analysis on the new Cunningham valve yet. Is that correct?"
"G-gee, I don't know, Miss Peterson. I mean he should have."
"Should isn't good enough, Davey," Norma scolded him. "I thought I requested that you deliver it to him by hand on Wednesday. Now suppose you tell me what happened."
The carrot-faced teenager blushed in embarrassment. His job, which was the lowest and least remunerative in the company involved not only carrying messages to executives in different parts of the office building, but driving all over Philadelphia in his own car to drop off reports and other documents that couldn't be sent through the mail for various reasons.
Generally he did his job without question, but the delivery to Stern Chemical had taken over three hours and involved fighting the worst traffic jam he had ever seen. Miss Peterson had handed him the envelope at four in the afternoon and by seven he was still stuck in traffic. In the end he had decided to turn around and go home and just drop the envelope off in the mail, hoping it would get to Mr. Beeler this morning.
He should have known better, though, than try to put one over on this snooty bitch. Miss Peterson was the type who kept an eagle eye out on everything, and now she had the goods on him.
"Well?" she demanded.
"L-look, Miss Peterson, I was on the road till past seven o'clock. There wasn't nothin' I could do, so I just put it in the mail," he explained to her.
"Davey, I'm disappointed in you, I really am. With that kind of attitude you're going to be a messenger boy the rest of your life. The next time something like this happens, I'm going straight to Mr. Cunningham. Do you understand?"
"Y-yes," the office boy stammered hopelessly. His embarrassment was compounded by the fact that Miss Peterson had chewed him out loudly enough for everyone in the office to hear. He retreated from her cubicle like a dog with his tail between his legs.
Flo glanced quickly over at Nick Saxby, who had just staggered into the neighboring office, to see if the good-looking marketing analyst had taken in the latest example of Norma Peterson's high-handed behavior, but Nick was in a world of his own, being afflicted by his usual Friday morning hangover. His eyes were puffy and red, the top two buttons of his shirt were undone, his tie yanked down and his suitcoat slung over his shoulder. Wearily he flopped down on the chair behind his desk, lit a cigarette and shook his head to revive himself. Flo defiantly stopped typing and entered his office.
"You better sober up quick," she warned him. "That bitch already has me typing up a long report for Cunningham."
"Thanks, Flo," Nick mumbled. "You're a good kid."
"Well?" Flo said. "Well what?"
"Well, don't you have something you want me to type?"
Nick glanced up at her absently and smiled in a crazy way. Flo was always looking out for his best interests, and that was a good thing. Without a guardian like her he stood the chance of being eaten alive by that high-powered brain, Norma Peterson, who was struggling to take his promotion away from him.
Think, think, Nick chided himself. He knew he had to make a good impression with Cunningham this morning, even though his brain was barely functioning.
"You're right, Flo," he said finally. "I've got to get that report done, don't I? Come in here and take some dictation."
Flo gave him a quick conspiratorial smile, retrieved her steno pad from her desk and re-entered his office. Nick leaned back in his chair, crossed his legs and began tapping a pencil against his teeth. Flo was dying to tell him the good news, but checked herself, knowing that Nick had to concentrate on business at the moment.
"How's this?" Nick said. "The new Cunningham valve is a triumph of modern technology. It combines the best features of modern science with the reliability of old-fashioned craftsmanship."
He closed his eyes, straining to think, but the only images that came to his mind were those of the previous night - lewd visions of Tanya, the tall, oriental-looking ad agency model he had seduced, her lithe firm thighs scissoring open in sensual invitation on his big circular bed, the animal agility of her athletic body beneath his as he rode her up and down in the wild untamed rhythm of their fucking.
"Yes?" Flo interrupted. "What else?" Nick's mind drifted farther off into outer space, still reeling with the liquor he had consumed the night before. God, he thought, how could he possibly concentrate on an industrial valve at a time like this? He began tapping the pencil furiously against his teeth, only to be interrupted by a voice from the neighboring office.
"Miss Jones," Norma Peterson called. "I would appreciate that report by ten, thank you."
Flo turned to Nick, waiting for him to say something. She wanted him to tell Norma Peterson to drop dead, but instead he closed his eyes and squeezed his forehead.
"It's no use, Flo baby," he admitted. "She's one up on me again. I can't think of a damn thing. You better go type her report."
"You better come up with something, Nick," Flo warned him. "Cunningham's going to blow his top."
"Don't worry about it. I'll dig up some kind of bullshit." He gave her a confident wink, leaned back in his swivel chair and propped his feet up on the desk.
"Miss Jones?" Norma Peterson called out again.
"Yes, Miss Peterson," Flo said curtly. "I'll type that report right away." And with that, she headed back to her desk, her secret still bursting to be let out.
At two minutes to ten Norma Peterson was hovering over the young secretary waiting for her to finish the last page and making her so nervous that she made three mistakes in the final paragraph.
"That will do,' Miss Jones," the new marketing analyst said with crisp efficiency. Not bothering to reply, Flo removed the last page from her typewriter, placed it on the pile with the others and watched her female boss neatly joggling the stack on the desk top and carefully inserting it into a file folder.
Nick Saxby by now had dosed himself with coffee and peeled his eyelids open. He winked at Flo behind Norma's back as he headed toward the door of Arthur Cunningham's office.
"Well, I see you're all prepared as usual," he said to Norma as she drew up alongside him. His female rival smiled half-heartedly and gave him a cold gaze from behind her dark spectacles.
"I'm always well prepared Mr. Saxby," she said calmly, eyeing him with distaste. "So I've noticed."
Saxby opened the door chivalrously and allowed her to enter first, giving her a quick once over as she did so.
She was one hell of a tough customer, he thought to himself. As smart as a whip with a master's degree in business administration, but as cold as an ice cube. And yet, as he'd noted many times before, she was a damned good-looking chick. She had a trim well-formed body, with long sensual legs, ripely swelling breasts, and a set of hips with a nice sexy wiggle, even though she tried to restrain it. As usual the way she was dressed today reflected the unique combination of conservatism and daring.
Like now, for example, she was wearing a tasteful dark blue dress with a high collar. The hem came down midway to her knees, which wasn't conservative at all because it showed an eyeful of her supple, stocking-sheathed legs and an even bigger eyeful when she took a seat in front of Cunningham's desk. Nick sat down in a chair opposite her and tried to keep his gaze off the tempting sight of her thighs and the lacy little strap of her garter, but it was a hard thing to do. He could almost swear she was practically exposing herself to him and Cunningham too. In fact, he could see Cunningham shoot a quick meaningful look up at her from the letters he was signing. The boss fixed his eyes on her long smooth legs and glimpsed the silken triangle of her white panties glimmering beneath the hem of her dress as she crossed her legs. The old man, as he was affectionately known, cleared his throat to regain his composure and smiled at both of them, though Nick could see he was practically drooling.
"Well, we're right on schedule," the gray-haired boss said, glancing quickly at the digital clock which was one of the two principal objects on his desk.
The other principal object and by far the most dominating was a plastic model of his pride and joy, the new remote-actuated ball valve designed for the chemical process industries. There in full life-size, color-coded polypropylene was the Cunningham brainchild, the new invention that was going to catapult this year's sales figures. Nick could sense that his boss was going to be plenty angry with him unless he came up with some brilliant ideas on how to promote this baby. Jesus, if there was anybody in the world who could get more excited about a plastic valve than Norma Peterson" it was Cunningham himself.
Nick could even sense the excitement in the old man's voice as he tossed him the ball.
"Nick," Cunningham said. "Suppose you kick off. Let's get a good handle on this thing so our advertising agency can pick it up and run with it."
Nick looked up at the ceiling and squinted his eyes, trying to give the impression that he was in deep thought.
"Well?" Cunningham prodded after a long pause.
"Well, I was thinking we could suggest the idea about this thing combining modern technology with an old-fashioned craftsmanship," Nick offered lamely.
"And?"
"Urn, of course, that's just the basic idea. They'd have to develop it on their own."
Cunningham frowned in disappointment at Nick's obvious lack of enthusiasm for the new project and turned to Norma Peterson, who immediately adjusted her glasses on the bridge of her nose and removed the neatly typed report from her file folder.
"Frankly, Mr. Cunningham," she began, "I think we should take a hard-nosed approach to this product. Since it will be advertised through trade publications I suggest we cite facts and figures illustrating the valve's durability, it's adaptability to automated systems and it's computer interface capability. In my report I have all this data broken down into an easy to read form so that the advertising people will be able to scan it and back up their claims with proven test figures."
Christ, Nick swore angrily to himself, here goes the human computer again, the machine with all the answers and all the big words to impress the old man. It wouldn't be so bad if she were an ugly old witch, but here she was sitting with her legs crossed under that short dress of hers and that lacy little fringe of her garter strap right out in the open for everyone to see. It was enough to drive a man wild with lust. More than anything in the world, Nick wanted to get this cold-hearted bitch down on all fours and shove his cock up inside that tight little cunt of hers.
Unfortunately, at the moment he had to concentrate on business, or at least try to, as Cunningham said: "Very good, Miss Peterson, let's take a look at this report of yours."
Norma handed it to the boss like a proud school girl while Nick winced inwardly. She had really put him down this time. Here it was Friday, the end of the week, and she had a twelve page typewritten report in her hands. Jesus, she was a real killer.
"Very good, very good," Cunningham praised her efficiency as he flipped through the bulky document.
Setting it down on his desk, he turned to Nick.
"Well, Nick, have you got anything to add along these lines?"
Nick looked down at the crumby mess of coffee-stained papers in his hands and desperately tried to think of something intelligent to say. To him a valve was a valve. A hunk of metal or plastic, a piece of plumbing. What the hell could anybody say about a valve?
Finally, he broke out in a broad smile, revealing his even white teeth.
'That's a damn good idea," he said jovially. "That's really an excellent idea." He turned and focused his smile on Norma, who greeted it with cold stony silence. Shit, at least she could let him save face in front of Cunningham.
The boss settled back in his chair.
"Yes, Miss Peterson has been producing a lot of good ideas, hasn't she, Nick?"
"Yes sir," Nick smiled. Cunningham smiled back at him, then abruptly wiped it off his face.
"I like good ideas, Nick. I really do. I like to see people come up with good ideas. In fact, Nick, I wish you would come up with a good idea once in a while."
Nick Saxby's own smile dropped off his face and fell on the floor. Cunningham had never been this blunt before, though he'd been throwing a lot of hints around lately. Nick could feel a cold sweat breaking out on his palms and he laughed nervously.
"All right, that will be all for now," Arthur Cunningham said abruptly. "I'll review your report, Norma, and consult you some time before the meeting with the agency. This looks very well done."
"Thank you, Mr. Cunningham," Norma said stiffly.
After the gray-haired patriarch had dismissed the meeting, Nick headed to the coffee machine and sidled up to Flo Jones, who was stirring the sugar in her second cup of the morning.
"That bitch," he growled. "She really put the knife in me today."
"Cunningham really chewed you out, huh?"
"I think he was ready to fire me on the spot. He just loves Norma Peterson."
"Well, he won't when he finds out her little secret," Flo smiled cryptically.
"What secret?" Nick said, his ears suddenly perking up.
"It's a bombshell. Let's go into your office."
Puzzled, Nick led the way in, drew his desk chair up close to his young ally and listened intently as she related her story in a hushed rapid whisper.
"Tell me again," Nick demanded in disbelief when she had finished. "It can't be true."
"But it is," Flo swore. "Except I've got no proof. When I went back to the playground to get my little brother I actually saw that bitch hiding in a clump of bushes. Her skirt was all bunched up, and I swear she was exposing her panties to those two young kids. Like a couple of idiots Tommy and this friend of his were just staring at her, you know, like she was crazy or something."
Nick let out a low whistle, astounded by the secret Flo had revealed to him, but then he began to fear that perhaps the young secretary was letting her vengeance get the best of her.
"God, I'd love to believe it, but it's too incredible. She couldn't possibly do something like that . . . exposing her panties . . . Jesus!"
"I saw it with my own eyes," Flo huffed. "And I watched her run away to her car. It was a white convertible just like the one she drives to the office."
Although doubt still lingered in Nick Saxby's mind he began to recall the scene in the office earlier in the morning - the way Norma Peterson had crossed her legs, the way he could see her garter belt and even the lacy trim of her panties beneath her skirt.
Hell, he thought finally, it was entirely possible that the hard-nosed new marketing analyst led a double life. It was very likely that she was hiding a secret - a secret which just might prevent her from becoming vice-president of Cunningham Manufacturing if it were ever revealed.
"You know something, Flo," he chuckled. "I might just play private detective tomorrow. I think Norma Peterson really does have a secret. Get me her address from the personnel files, will you?"
Chapter Two
Though his evidence was flimsy, Nick Saxby was absolutely right. Norma Peterson did have a secret, and if it ever became known she would be out of her job in no time flat.
To a casual observer, though, Norma did not seem like a woman with something to hide. In fact, the attractive brunette looked much like any other well-dressed career girl that Friday evening as she headed home to her apartment in an old town house on Pine Street in the center of Philadelphia.
Her behavior appeared perfectly normal. A block away from home she purchased food from a small corner store and the evening paper from a nearby newsstand. Wearily, she trudged up the three flights of stairs to her apartment, struggling with the groceries and let out a deep sigh of relief as she entered her comfortable, modernly furnished living room.
Fifteen minutes later she had made herself a pitcher of martinis and was slipping out of her dark blue office dress in the bedroom laying it neatly on her big double bed. Enjoying a cool, soothing sip of her drink, she strolled to the large mirror above her dresser to take a good look at herself, something she was doing more frequently during long weekends at home alone.
After carefully removing her dark-framed glasses, she undid the neat bun of her rich dark brown hair and let it flow down over her shoulders in thick lustrous cascades. The transformation was miraculous. In just a matter of seconds she had changed from a coldly efficient female executive into what could have passed for an alluring sex siren.
Fully conscious of her own metamorphosis, Norma stared at her reflection in the mirror until it gradually began to hypnotize her. Slowly, almost mystically she glided her hands down over her voluptuously flaring hips and began casually caressing the lacy hem of her white slip. Then she gripped the silky material and pulled it up over her head, letting it drop from her fingertips to the floor.
Then her hands glided over the tapering contours of her midriff up to the cups of her daringly brief brassiere.
She could feel her breasts swelling ripely against the silken confines, desperately wanting to burst free. She squeezed them together, exaggerating their fullness, feeling her nipples rise erect at the sensual touch of her own fingertips. Arching her body she slid her hands around in back and undid the tiny snaps, and as the brassiere slipped down off her shoulders, the lushly swelling, pink-tipped mounds of her breasts bursting forth, free at last from the: artificial constraints.
The reflection in the mirror showed a maturely developed young woman of twenty-six normal - in fact, more than normal, from a physical standpoint, and this was what galled her. For as she gazed at herself she was overcome with an intense feeling of self-contempt.
God, what's wrong with me? she asked bitterly. Why can't I behave like a normal woman? Why can't I be satisfied with a normal man? As these questions turned over in her mind, her hands descended to the white silk of her brief bikini panties.
Here is the source of all my troubles, she thought to herself as she hooked her thumbs inside the delicate little waistband. The rippling touch of the silky material against her skin sent unwanted chills of pleasure racing up and down her spine. Her other fingers gently caressed the outer surface, smoothing and molding it to the outline of her provocatively rounded pussy mound. God, she thought, her panties felt so soft, so cool. How she loved to fondle them, even though she knew it was wrong, this strange unnatural fetish that had possessed her since childhood.
Trying not to think about the events of the past which had led to her horrible panty compulsion, the voluptuous young brunette turned away from the mirror, headed to her closet, and slipped into a gauzy white nightgown that extended only to the very tops of her thighs, barely covering the narrow white crotch band of her panties beneath. Quickly, as though to gain much-needed moral support, she downed her martini, poured another, and headed into the living room to read the evening paper.
But even now she could not escape her innermost thoughts, for almost against her will, her fingers flipped to the sports section, which she knew would rekindle her youthful memories.
Her eyes scanned the football news photos of heavy-shouldered men slamming into one another with the force of brute elephants, glanced over the summaries of the professional games, bypassed the scores, and came to rest finally on a tiny two-inch column previewing a local suburban high school game. The headline read "Breyertown J.V.'s meet Cap's Creek on Saturday."
It was an odd thing for a young single woman to do, to dwell on an obscure column in the sports page like this, but Norma Peterson nevertheless noted the time and location of the early freshman game, which was to take place the following morning in Breyertown. And then as she stared at the tiny column of newsprint, the lines began to wave and blur in front of her eyes while her mind tumbled back deep into the past to that terrible autumn day when she was thirteen years old . . .
On that particular day she was standing on the sidelines of a makeshift football field in a public park not far from her home in suburban Whitemarch, Pennsylvania. There were other girls on the sidelines too, but they were cheering and yelling at the young boys on the field who had grouped themselves into two teams to play tackle. Instead of joining in the fun, young Norma was pouting and sulking on the verge of tears, for the boys had just kicked her off the home team.
It had happened when Joe Baxter, a big rough-looking boy from Wyndmoor, a poor neighborhood nearby, decided that touch football was a sissy's game, and if they were going to have any fun at all they should play tackle.
"Come on," he yelled to Freddy Green, the Whitemarsh captain. "Get rid of that girl and let's see who's tough and who ain't."
Freddy, an agile young boy of fourteen at the time, wasn't about to be bullied by Joe Baxter, and he was having second thoughts about playing tackle.
"Are you crazy or somethin'? We can't play tackle without equipment," he protested.
"Pussy!" Joe chided him.
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah. That girl's the best one on your team," the bigger boy taunted.
"That's what you think."
"Okay, well show me then. Let's play tackle."
Freddy's face was red with anger now. "Okay," he said, and then stormed away to the other side of the scrimmage line to his team huddle.
"We can't chicken out now. We gotta play tackle." he convinced the others and looked up at Norma, who was dressed in a sweatshirt and a pair of jeans. "You better go to the sidelines."
The confident expression on the young tomboy's face suddenly dropped. "Oh no, I'm playing too!" she cried.
"No, you're not. You'll get hurt. Didn't you hear what I said, we're gonna play tackle."
"I'm playing too!"
"Hey, come on Norma, you're a girl. You can't do that," one of the other boys complained.
"Yeah come on, we wanna beat these guys."
"Go be a cheer-leader for awhile, will ya?"
The thirteen year old girl could feel the tears welling in her eyes. Almost every weekend she had been playing touch football with the same boys, and she could run and pass better than most of them. Now just because Joe Baxter and his tough guys were challenging them they were willing to discard her. It wasn't fair at all.
"Aw, Norma, don't be a sorehead will ya?" Freddy pleaded.
"You guys playin' or not?" Joe Baxter yelled.
Norma knew when she was defeated, and she turned quickly away from the boys and walked back to the sidelines, not bothering to join the other girls. Instead she watched sourly as the Wyndmoor team ran roughshod over the home team. On the third play, as Freddy Green faded back for a pass, Joe Baxter broke through the line and smashed into him with a bone-crushing thud.
A moment later everyone from Whitemarsh and all the girls on the sidelines were gathered around the injured player whose face was red with pain as he writhed on the ground.
"Oh fuck," he groaned. "I think I broke my elbow." After Freddy, the star quarterback, had been carried off the field, his teammates milled helplessly around, as though their heads had been chopped off. They did this until Norma suddenly stood up and with her hands on her hips began castigating them.
"You're not gonna let those guys win, are you?"
"Yeah, well, what do you suggest?" they grumbled.
"Let's go back on the field and play."
"Yeah, and who's gonna be our quarterback?"
"/ am," Norma announced defiantly.
Surprisingly, the young girl took command of the situation with ease, and she avoided being tackled by giving quick hand-offs and short passes. She could see she had made Joe Baxter good and angry by bringing her team right down to the goal line. One more play and she could score a touchdown.
At that moment the other team called a time out and huddled behind the goal. It was an extra long time out, and she could hear the big rough-looking boys laughing and shouting and clapping their hands together, though she couldn't possibly anticipate what they had in mind for her. She didn't find out until the next play which she realized she would have to run herself in order to get a touchdown, since the ball was practically on the goal line.
Everything whirled by so quickly it became a jumble of confusion. The ball was snapped back from center, she raced furiously around the right end to score the touchdown and suddenly, without warning, all the rules disappeared and the game became something other than football. Even though she had already made the score, Joe Baxter's entire team was charging her from all sides, whooping and yelling, their faces contorted into strange lustful expressions the young girl had never witnessed before in her life.
Joe Baxter was the first one to bring her to the ground. His head dove in between her legs, his hands driving into the backs of her knees and collapsed her like a folding chair. The sweating bodies of the big, tough-looking boys closed in all around her. Eager hands pulled at her sweatshirt and blue jeans.
"Get the quarterback," someone yelled.
"Yeah, get her, get her!" the others chanted in chorus as they closed in even tighter around her.
"Stop, stop! Don't! Please!" She tried to protest as she wiggled and squirmed in a desperate effort to break loose, but her frantic pleas went unheeded. She could feel clammy, excited young hands half-tearing her sweatshirt up over her head as she desperately thrashed and kicked.
Other pairs of hands popped open the snap of her blue jeans, ripped down the zipper, and pulled them off her flailing legs.
Her pleasant tomboy world had suddenly turned into a horrible nightmare.
"We got her now!"
"Come on, let's take the rest of her clothes off."
"Yeah, we'll show this stupid chick."
Tears poured from the helpless teenager's eyes and she began to scream uncontrollably, loud piercing cries that rent the air of the calm, peaceful playing field. Before she knew what was happening her small training brassiere had been torn loose, and she was naked except for her flimsy little white nylon panties.
Struggling mightily to protect her virginal young loins from the ravishment she thought was sure to come, she clamped her hands fiercely around her panty waistband, fighting to keep it from being ripped away by these crude, savagely aroused boys. Her legs kicked and pushed, her arms twisted and pulled, she screamed and screamed until she thought her vocal chords were going to burst, and suddenly the kids around her began to come to their senses.
"Hey, come on, cool it."
"Yeah, let's get outta here."
"Move it before the cops come."
One by one they silently disengaged themselves from the tangled pileup they had formed around the defenseless young girl. As they scurried away she could see the boys from her own team gathered around her, strange looks of excitement and horror mingled on their faces. But then they too began to turn and walk quickly away, breaking out into a fast run, as though they were hurrying away from some beggar with a terrible disease.
The thirteen year old girl was up on her feet now, tears pouring down her cheeks, her face livid with rage. Her young, newly developing body exposed and humiliated, she began screaming every foul curse word she had ever heard in her life.
"Bastards!" she yelled, the cords of her neck standing out in relief as though they were about to burst. "Dirty bastards!"
Silently the young boys scooped up their coats and hurried homeward in separate directions, not once looking back, leaving her to her own fate ... a thirteen year old girl alone and humiliated.
She was standing there practically naked, only her panties left to protect her. Her clothes lay scattered around about. Only moments ago she had been one of the gang wearing a sweatshirt and jeans, just like the boys wore. But in just a few brutal seconds she had been taught that she was a woman. For the first time in her life she had become the object of male lust, and now she was stripped naked except for her frilly little panties, the badge of her femininity, the femininity she swore she was going to use against men for the rest of her life.
A shudder of horror trembled through Norma Peterson's body even now as she recalled the horrible event from her past, and she fixed herself a third martini. God, what a deep scar that incident had left on her!
Ever since that day she had been marked with an unnatural craving for revenge - a craving that expressed itself in a terrible need to expose her panties to young boys and tease them until they could barely stand it. It was the amazed expression on their faces that satisfied her. She reveled in her power to shock and tantalize them without completely giving herself to them. She reveled in her female ability to render them helpless, just as she had felt helpless when attacked by those teenage boys so many years ago.
A funny little smile crossed the bitter brunette's face and she began to tear out the clipping of the high school football game that was to take place tomorrow. She was going to take a little trip tomorrow - just a short trip to a certain high school football field in the suburbs of Philadelphia.
* * *
When Nick Saxby awoke at nine on Saturday morning, he felt more than a little ridiculous assuming the role of private detective. He felt downright silly, in fact, packing his camera and telephoto lens in their carrying case and carrying it downstairs to his Pontiac parked in the lot of his suburban apartment building.
He had dressed casually, as though he were just going to do a few errands - a dark turtleneck sweater and double knit slacks, along with a pair of sunglasses which were a bit conspicuous for an autumn day in October, even though it was a clear beautiful day. At least, though, the sunglasses might prevent Norma Peterson from immediately recognizing him if she just happened to sight him from the rearview mirror of her car as he followed her.
As he headed his car toward Philadelphia city center, he began feeling even more absurd. What if he spent the whole day waiting outside her apartment while she, in turn, spent the whole day inside. What if she had already left, and what if he did follow her and found that she didn't do anything abnormal? Hell, he might have to spend weeks on her tail to verify what Flo Jones had told him. And furthermore, what if that sexy little secretary's imagination had just run away with her? Norma Peterson certainly didn't seem the type to expose her panties to young boys, but still Nick had faith in the fallibility of humankind. Everybody had some kind of secret they were hiding, he told himself, and he was personally going to avail himself of Norma Peterson's to put her in her proper place!
An hour later he was threading his car through the tangled traffic of downtown Philadelphia, negotiating it toward the Pine Street address Flo had swiped for him from the personnel file. After he had found it, he was obliged to cruise around the block several times to wait for a parking space to open up, and after that he had to wait an hour more before Norma emerged from her apartment house. When she did, though, it was one hell of a surprise.
In fact, it was so surprising that Nick even whistled under his breath. Was this the same Norma Peterson he knew from the office; hell, no, it couldn't be.
The woman who was coming down the steps of the town-house looked like some kind of movie star. She was wearing an ultra short tweed skirt that revealed enough thigh to practically make him cum in his pants. On top of that she was sporting a white see-through blouse, even though October was not known to be one of the hottest months of the year. Her hair, too, was different. None of this tightly pulled bun business. . . just long glossy brown tresses that flowed luxuriantly down over her shoulders. And the glasses. . . what happened to the black-framed glasses that usually made her look like an accountant? She must have traded them in for a pair of contact lenses or something. He peered forward in his seat to make sure he had zeroed in on the right woman, and sure enough he had. No doubt about it, the white convertible she stepped into was the same one he'd seen in the office parking lot.
Excitedly, the amateur private detective gunned his engine and five minutes later found himself following his business rival through the maze of city center streets, his blue Pontiac trailing discreetly behind the white convertible that zoomed onto the expressway leading northwest out of the city.
Nick was growing more ecstatic by the moment. His dumb idea about playing detective was beginning to pay off. After all, who could expect that Norma Peterson would be jazzed up like a sex siren on a Saturday morning? What Flo had told him was beginning to sound like the truth.
Norma, for her part, was completely oblivious to the late-model car tailing her. She was aware only of the strange feelings of excitement and tension that were beginning to creep up on her. She was so tense, in fact, that the palms of her hands were beginning to sweat against the steering wheel. She could feel a parched roughness in her throat, and even her leg began to tremble as she pressed her high-heeled shoe down on the accelerator. God, she knew what she was going to do was wrong, but she couldn't help herself.
All morning in spite of the warnings her conscience had been flashing to her, she had felt the heady anticipation of encountering young teenage boys on the football field - handsome young boys, naive and innocent.
Soon she had left the choking smog of the city behind as she followed the expressway exit ramp onto the turn-off for Breyertown. It was a clear autumn day, the sun shining brightly above, a light breeze blowing through the red and gold trees - the kind of day that would make anyone feel relaxed - anyone, that is, except Norma Peterson, whose perverted excitement was growing by leaps and bounds.
By noon she had arrived at the Breyertown High athletic fields just in time to witness the crowd of young boys and girls pouring out from the bleachers of the main field. This was ideal, she thought to herself, as she tamed the white convertible to a slow cruising speed. The freshman football game was just over, and the high school varsity team wouldn't be playing for another two hours. There were bound to be some stray boys lingering after the game, perhaps playing touch football by themselves, in one of the adjacent fields.
Behind her, Nick Saxby abruptly eased off his accelerator and followed at a safe distance. Just what in the hell was this broad doing? he wondered to himself. Why would she drive all the way out to this suburban high school football field just in time to miss the football game, unless of course she were looking for something else - perhaps some stray boys, some boys very similar to Flo's little brother and his friend! Nick grinned at the thought of getting a peek at his female co-worker's private sex life. This, in fact, was even more exciting than getting the best of her in the office battle.
Gradually the crowd began to thin out, knots of exuberant boys and girls heading toward their cars in the parking lot. Horns honked, tires squealed as the cars wheeled out over the macadam, and in the middle of this noisy crowd of teeny-boppers was Norma Peterson in her big white convertible just cruising along looking for unsuspecting little boys. If only she knew her every move was being followed, Nick chuckled gleefully ...
By now, Norma had finally sighted her prey. Just as she'd expected, there were two young boys aimlessly tossing a football in a small field on the other side of the main bleachers. The field, which looked like a practice area, was located adjacent to a small brick building and was bordered on the far end by a steep embankment.
Immediately the possessed brunette's muscles tensed and her heart began to thump in her chest. Bringing her car to a halt only about twenty-five yards or so from where the boys were playing, she glanced at the brick building, which was actually a field house, noted that it was empty, and turned off the engine.
Inside the trailing Pontiac a big wide grin crossed Nick Saxby's face. That was it, he thought. This was the moment he would discover what made Norma Peterson tick, the moment the desperate job battle would turn in his favor.
The attractive dark-haired woman in the convertible slipped on a pair of sunglasses and withdrew a compact mirror from her pocketbook. She nervously caressed the long lustrous locks of her hair and shot quick glances out of the corner of her eye. Good, she thought to herself. They hadn't noticed her yet, since they were too wrapped up in their little football game.
Finally, though, she could stand the temptation no longer. Inserting the compact in her pocketbook she kicked off her high-heeled shoes, curled up her legs on the front seat, and resting her arm on the door panel of the driver's side, turned to feast her eyes on her catch - two innocent young teenagers who hadn't the faintest idea what was in store for them.
God, they were so youthful, so naive, she mused. Their guileless innocence was practically making her drool, and yet at the same time she despised them for the very fact that they were young males, that they reminded her of the terrible thing a group of young boys had done to her in the distant past.
The boy on the left from her vantage point looked about fourteen. He had thick chestnut brown hair and deep-set brown eyes. He was .wearing a tight-fitting T-shirt that molded around his chest to reveal his developing muscles. His low-slung faded jeans clung tightly to the slender cheeks of his buttocks, and her eyes fixed on him intently as he faded back to throw a long pass.
The boy who was running swiftly to catch it was shorter and a bit stockier but about the same age and with wild curly blond hair. His agile young legs churned powerfully as he raced after the football that had been thrown over his head, and with a graceful lunge he caught it in his fingertips, brought it down against his chest and dove expertly to the ground, rolling on his shoulder and bouncing quickly to his feet.
"Nice catch, banana face," the brown-haired boy called out.
"Wilson," the second boy shouted back, "your turn next." And cocking his arm, he hurled the football in a long high arc.
Norma watched all this as though she were witnessing a ballet of youthful innocence. God, how could she do what she had to do next to these inexperienced youngsters? How could she shock and tantalize them by exposing her panties to their inexperienced eyes? Yet now, even as these doubts plagued her, she found herself slipping gradually into an overwhelming trance-like state. Tense with anticipation she moistened her full red lips with the tip of her tongue and began gliding her hands sensually up over the gauzy material of her see-through blouse. Slowly, one by one, she undid the top three buttons to reveal just a hint of her voluptuous white breasts and the alluring deep valley between them.
From a distance, Nick Saxby squinted his eyes to focus more accurately on this incredible sight, and now beyond any doubt, he realized that Flo had been right. Jesus! Norma Peterson was going to pick up those two young kids. Excitedly he pressed forward in his seat, draping his arms over the steering wheel. In fact, he was so worked up he had almost forgotten that he'd brought his camera along with him. Damn, what was she going to do next?
For a long moment Norma merely stared lustfully at the two teenagers, who were still absorbed in their game, and as she stared her yearning nipples rose to erect little points against the restraints of her flimsy white brassiere. Chills of lewd excitement began to pulse through her trembling body. God, how desperately she wanted these kids to look at her. How desperately she wanted them to gape in amazement as she lured them over to the car and exposed herself to them!
With the palms of her hands, Norma pushed her proudly swelling breasts up against each other, squeezing her aching nipples through her brassiere with the tips of her fingers. Any minute now they would see her, and any minute they would stop dead in their tracks, bug-eyed. Then they would be all hers, trapped in the web of depravity she had so carefully spun for them.
In a minute it happened. Paul Wilson, the brown-haired boy, just by chance glanced over in the direction of the white convertible he had seen out of the corner of his eye. He did so at the very moment the football was hurtling directly toward him and the sight that struck his eyes was so amazing that his mouth gaped open, his hands fell to his sides, and the football bounced off his chest without him even blinking.
"Jesus Christ!" he gaped.
"Hey, what happened? You look like you saw a ghost," the blond boy called out.
"Ghost, shit. Take a look over there, Jimmy."
Jimmy stopped dead in his tracks, shot a glance at the convertible and froze. Jesus Christ was right! The dark-haired woman in the car had her blouse unbuttoned part way, and she was rubbing her half-naked tits in broad daylight. The two boys stared at her in unconcealed wonder, their eyes glazed, their mouths hanging incredulously open.
Sudden pulsations of joy rippled through Norma Peterson's body. She had them now. They were all hers to do with as she wanted! Casually she slid down in the car seat, her short tweed dress bunching up around her hips. Her long slender right leg reached out, and with her toes she pressed down on the door handle and kicked the passenger door halfway open.
"Holy shit, what do you think she's doing?" Jimmy asked.
"Beats me, but I'm gonna find out. She looks like a spaced-out chick. Come on, Porter, get down so she can't see us coming."
The two teenagers sank to their knees and stealthily crept over the grass to get a better angle on the front seat of the car. To their amazement, Norma's stretched out foot kicked the door open even wider until it swung out full length.
But Norma Peterson wasn't the only one who took in their look of youthful surprise: Nick Saxby saw it too, even though he couldn't see what his scheming co-worker was doing at the moment. Now was his chance, he thought. While she was sunk down in the car seat and the two kids were absorbed in gazing at her he could sneak behind that brick field house and make his way to the steep embankment at the other end of the playing field. From there he could see exactly what was going on and what's more, take photographs of it.
Christ, he thought, it was almost unbelievable that this super-efficient business woman had just transformed herself into a lust-crazed child-seducer, but there it was - happening right before his very eyes . . .
As the titillated whispers of the two young teenagers floated to her ears, Norma reclined sensually back against the cool leather car seat and spread her willowy legs brazenly apart. Her left foot dangled off the front edge of the seat and touched the thick-carpeted floor while her right leg she tucked back under her thigh. Even now she could feel tiny warm droplets of moisture seeping down into her flimsy panty crotch band.
Come closer, she murmured to herself, come closer and see Norma's panties. You want to touch them, don't you? You want to run your little fingers over the cool silk and feel my hot little pussy. You want to, don't you?
As a tantalizing smile played lewdly over her lips, she reached down for the hem of her short skirt and worked it even higher to reveal the entirety of her daringly brief white bikini panties.
"Oh wow!" Jimmy Porter moaned ecstatically. "I gotta get closer."
"Hey, wait a minute. You can't - she's gonna see us."
"The hell with that. I'm gonna get a fifty-yard line seat."
Before Paul could restrain his friend, Jimmy was crawling on his hands and knees toward the convertible like a hungry dog.
Norma, fully conscious of the excitement she was arousing, slowly caressing the insides of her stocking-sheathed thighs. Her fingers rippled up and down over the firmly yielding flesh like tickling feathers, slithering inch by inch up toward the silken sheen of her panties, and she could feel the hot wet moisture of her loins seeping out in greater excitement against the tightly confining nylon.
Jimmy by now was within ten feet of the car, and he could hear his companion crawling up fast behind him. The sight of the lewdly sprawled woman on the front seat was making his penis shoot up inside his pants like a bamboo pole. Jesus, she was driving him crazy! He thought any minute he was going to cum in his pants!
In the meantime, Nick Saxby had sneaked around the field house unnoticed and hidden himself along the embankment about seventy-five yards away from the convertible. His view was not as good as he would have liked, but he could still see plenty, especially after he'd attached a telephoto lens to his camera. He could see Norma Peterson, the high-powered executive of Cunningham Manufacturing Company, invitingly laid out on the front seat of her convertible on the verge of seducing two young boys. Hell, that was all he needed! He had something on her now, and if she thought she was going to get the best of him she was dead wrong. Still, even though he had discovered her secret, he continued watching the salacious spectacle unfolding on the playing field below. He could feel his cock springing out hard and rigid against the confines of his pants. Hell, that bitch was one big tease all right, and if it was the last thing he did he was going to shove his cock inside those flimsy little panties of hers. But for now he was just going to watch.
Down below inside the convertible, Norma suddenly removed her sunglasses and stared straight at the two boys creeping up on her. For a moment, a surge of terrified panic sped through the teenagers' bodies, and they were on the verge of bolting until the attractive dark-haired woman spoke to them in a deep, throaty voice.
"You like my panties, don't you? You want to touch them?" She murmured hoarsely. Her eyes looked kind of funny, the boys noticed, as though she were in another world or something.
Too dumbfounded to say anything, Paul and Jimmy gazed at her in disbelief as she smiled at them like a beautiful sorceress.
Then she raised herself up in the seat and propped her shoulders against the car door on the driver's side, her quivering milk-white legs still splayed obscenely apart.
She began running the tips of her fingers slowly along the lacy edge of her panty crotch band, soft throaty moans tumbling from her throat. As she tilted her head back against the rolled-down window, her long flowing brown locks cascaded over the door panel on the outside like beautiful silk.
Jimmy could see the long elegant curve of her neck leading down to the parted folds of her blouse where it swelled into the roundly curving cleavage of her half-naked breasts. Like a moth drawn to light, he moved toward the lewdly beckoning woman despite the cautioning whispers of his friend.
"Come, little boy, come here," Norma urged in a low otherworldly voice, mesmerized by her own power over him.
Only moments ago this blond curly-haired teenager was enjoying a simple game of catch with his friend. He had been a sexual innocent just like all the other inexperienced youngsters in the world, but now she could see the first faint glimmerings of lust in his wide-open eyes -glimmerings of lust such as she had seen once before in the distant past. Only this time it was different. She was the one in control now, the one who could make him do whatever she wanted: Stop if she said stop, come if she said come.
A low inviting groan purred from her throat as she arched her back away from the car door and spread her legs even farther apart, thrusting her vagina forward, teasing him with the sight of her brief white panties, the silken second skin that guarded the treasure of her loins.
His hand was at the car door, trembling as he tried to decide whether to jump in the front seat with her or run away. Hell, he couldn't run away from something like this, from some strange beautiful woman who was offering her body to him. God, how he wanted to fuck her if she would only give him some signal, if she would only let him know. He'd never fucked a girl before, never even touched one, but man he sure knew what to do, given half a chance.
But the lewdly positioned woman was not about to give him that chance. She was going to let him dangle there for a good long moment until his little penis bulged so hard in his pants that he couldn't stand it any longer. She was going to tease him and make him pay for what other cruel teenage boys had done to her in the past.
Norma glided the tips of her fingers back and forth along the insides of her thighs, up over her stockings to the lacy white straps of her garter belt and the small unprotected area of naked trembling flesh between.
"Ummmh," she moaned through slightly parted lips as she rested her head back against the door panel, letting her eyes flicker shut.
Tiny electric sensations streamed through her body as her fingertips began tracing the lacy trim of her panties, squeezing the edges ever so slightly toward the center to reveal the curly strands of dark pubic hair nestled beneath.
Jimmy Porter's eyes bulged out like watermelons, and his stiff young penis danced savagely inside his pants. Jesus, he wanted to cum all over her panties. Why didn't she say something to him? What did she want him to do?
"Get inside, quickly," the mysterious woman whispered at last, determined to get this boy even if his friend didn't seem to want to move. His hands trembling, his heart pounding like a tom-tom, Jimmy half-leaped onto the front seat.
"Get up on your knees on the seat," she ordered him. His whole body shaking like a vibrating machine, he obeyed her command, not realizing that he was unwittingly posing for a photograph, for high on the embankment seventy-five yards away, Nick Saxby framed the scene below, adjusted the focusing ring on his telephoto lens and began shooting.
"You like my panties?" Norma cooed at the helpless teenager. "You want to touch them, don't you?"
"Y-yessss," Jimmy stammered. "Cripes yessssss!"
Slowly, rhythmically, she began to thrust her pelvis up and down in a lewd grinding motion, tantalizing the young boy with the enticingly rounded mound of her vagina as she undulated her hips in obscene sexual rhythms. All this time the blond boy knelt rigidly still, his body shaking and trembling as he hovered before her like a young slave in front of a goddess.
Lightning sensations of forbidden excitement flashed through Norma's belly at the thought of the power she wielded over this powerless youngster. Velvety moisture seeped down between the pulsating lips of her vagina as she carefully drew the lacy crotch band to one side and briefly exposed her desire-swollen pussy to his eager eyes.
"Oh wow!" Jimmy whined like a tortured animal. She was flashing her cunt at him, and he was just kneeling there like a dumb ass-hole. Christ, he couldn't stand it any longer! He was going to jump right on top of her!
But before he could move, she began whispering instructions to him in a sharp commanding voice.
"Undo your zipper!" she ordered him like an angry school teacher.
"Oh J-Jeeeesus!" he gasped as he fumbled with his fly and felt a cold sweat breaking out on his forehead.
In the meantime, his friend found that he couldn't stand the suspense any longer. Paul Wilson crept forward on his hands and knees, his stiff cock thrashing around inside his pants like an angry snake. When he had reached the car he timidly rose to his feet and peered into the front seat just in time to see the strange mystery woman reaching inside Jimmy's pants and grasping his young cock firmly in her hand.
"Holy balls!" the spying teenager swore out loud, though he wasn't the only one who was amazed.
Hidden behind a low shrub on the embankment Nick Saxby zeroed in on the scene again with his camera. What a shot! That young kid on his knees with his cock hanging out and Norma Peterson's hand wrapped around it. This was going to be an aware-winning photograph, he chuckled to himself as he snapped the shutter.
Jimmy Porter couldn't hear the distant chick, however. The only thing he could hear was the crazy pounding of his own blood inside his head and the excited fluttering of his heart as the lust-demented older woman wrapped her fingers around the entire length of his penis and began stroking it back and forth, making it swell and pulse as though it had a life of its own.
"Oh wow!" he gasped out loud, supporting himself with one hand on the dashboard and the other on the top of the car seat. Crazy sensations rippled up and down his spine, and his balls ached as though they were going to explode at any second.
Her clasped fingers glided over the bulbous rubbery head, sliding down the length of its rigid base as it jerked and palpitated with excitement.
"Aaaaagh!" he moaned as she reached inside his pants and began massaging the small hairless sac of his balls. His young penis quivered and throbbed, ready to spew its white-hot load in mid-air.
"Get closer!" she hissed. "Closer!"
As waves of savage excitement swarmed through his body, the curly-haired youth moved deeper in between her widespread legs.
He could feel them moving together, circling around his own legs where they were bent at the knee, trapping him in her web, her body sliding down in the seat so that the hem of her skirt pushed farther up over her stomach.
"Now I'm going to let you fuck my little panties. That's what you want, isn't it?" she breathed.
"G-geeze yes, yes!"
The sweating palms of his hands gripped the car seat and dashboard on either side for dear life as his friend looked on in utter amazement from behind. Paul Wilson's mouth was wide open, his face pale and his entire body trembling. Holy balls! He wanted to jump right in there and push Jimmy out of the way. Jesus, this was the first real live piece of ass he'd seen in his entire life.
Paul's young cock throbbed wildly inside his pants as he gaped at the lewdly aroused woman's thighs wrapped luridly around his companion's legs, the thin straps of her garter belt expanding and contracting as she rhythmically squeezed and released her obscene scissor-grip around his legs. And then right before his eyes, he saw her suddenly yanking Jimmy's pants down below his buttocks. Goddamn, he must be about ready to shoot his wad!
As the swollen lips of her pussy palpitated insanely beneath her panties, Norma grasped the captive teenager's cock and guided it up against the hotly swelling mound of her vagina, feeling it pulse and throb with spasmodic ecstasy.
Deep passionate moans poured from her lips as she levered her legs up high and wrapped them firmly around the young boy's muscular white buttocks.
"Ooooo Christ!" he wailed, clenching his eyes shut against the aching pain inside his testicles. His arms strained against their supports as the obscenely aroused woman guided the narrow rubbery head of his cock up tight against the obscenely moistened crotch band of her panties still sheathing her palpitating cunt like a silk scabbard.
"Uuuggghhh, God! I'm gonna cum!" he wailed, his body shuddering with unknown pleasure.
Norma gasped and moaned as her cream-white thighs squeezed against the teenager's hips and her pelvis began to undulate in an intense quickening rhythm.
"More! More!" she demanded as she suddenly reached out and grasped his hard unspoiled ass-cheeks and pulled his naked hips closer to her.
His throbbing young cock pushed the soft wet silk of her panties a quarter inch up into the tight slippery depths of her pussy, straining futilely against the frustrating restraint of this strange condom.
"Oh God, cum, cum!" she gasped as she tore at his buttocks, her fingernails raking deep welts in his resilient skin.
Sweat was pouring off the young boy's face now, not the cold sweat of fear but the hot dripping sweat of youthful passion. His heart leaped up inside his throat and pounded there like a jackhammer as his hands tore themselves loose from the car seat and dashboard, and he lunged forward on top of the lewdly squirming female beneath him.
"Aaaaahhh, nooo!" Norma squealed, suddenly aware that the once-helpless youngster was seizing the initiative. But it was too late now. Her own body had deserted her and she could feel wickedly pulsating sensations of her own desire rippling out of control through her belly.
Like an animal gone wild she locked her legs even tighter around the young boy's buttocks, pushed up his sweatshirt, and dug her nails into the naked skin of his back.
"Fuck me, fuck me, damnit!" she screamed, her stocking-sheathed legs hotly squeezing his virginal young body, her feet pointed high up in the air above the convertible.
Obediently, the young boy grunted like a baby elephant and shoved his cock hard up inside her wetly throbbing pussy, pushing the panty silk far into the depths of her vaginal canal.
He grasped her half-clad breasts hungrily as his body squirmed and jerked in an awkward dance of adolescent lust, kneading and squeezing them until submissive moans of lewd abandon broke from her throat.
"Harder, harder!" she wailed, raking her fingernails across his back until she could feel their path lubricated by blood.
The young boy grunted and moaned as his watching companion grasped the rear door of the car so tightly that his muscles shook and shuddered.
"Oh God, I'm gonna cum!" Jimmy moaned. His stiff young penis twitched spasmodically inside the warm walls of the writhing woman's panty-lined cunt, and then it burst like a bomb.
Wave after wave of hot wet liquid poured into the strange woman's savagely grasping cunt pounding against the unnatural barrier of her panties. Her legs jerked and squeezed as she dug her fingernails into his buttocks, her belly quivering with perverse passion, her cuntal lips clasping and unclasping around the eager young cock erupting frantically inside her. She moaned and shuddered, her head tossing back and forth in desperate abandon until finally she exhaled a heavy gasping breath and released her legs.
The young boy pulled out of her abruptly, his mind awhirl with confusion. Hurriedly he jerked up his shorts and pants and buckled his belt as Norma sprawled out luxuriously on the seat, letting her eyes flicker closed.
Jimmy was scared to death now as he stumbled backward out of the convertible. Jesus, he was sure somebody must be looking.
"Come on, quick!" Jimmy repeated, grabbing Paul's arm. It was a tough struggle, but the blond-haired boy finally managed to pry his partner loose and the two of them dashed back for their football and then blitzed across the field as though they were being chased by jet planes.
They weren't the only ones who were excited, though. On top of the embankment, Nick Saxby was so shaken that when he lit a cigarette to calm his nerves he found that his hands were trembling uncontrollably.
Jesus, he had never expected anything like this, never in his life! Funny thing, though ... his blackmail mission had suddenly become less important. The thing he wanted most now was to fuck the living daylights out of snobbish Miss Norma Peterson. Jesus, what a cock-teaser!
Chapter Three
When Norma arrived home that afternoon she found herself in a state of total confusion, her body trembling all over. Immediately the exhausted brunette headed into the kitchen to fix herself a martini, though she wasn't accustomed to drinking during the day.
I haven't gone this far in a long, long time, she thought to herself as she hurriedly shook the gin and vermouth in a container and poured a drink. What if someone saw me? God, it's bound to happen someday if I keep doing things like this in public.
The muscles of her whole body felt tight and stiff, and her mind was on the verge of snapping. How much longer could she carry on the double life she was leading, acting cool and crisp in the office like a robot and seducing young boys on the side? The tension was killing her, and after she had finished the martini, she entered the bedroom and began sobbing like a frightened child. If only there were some way she could rid herself of the strange compulsion to expose her panties in front of young boys, everything would be all right. But it was impossible, impossible, she thought to herself.
Norma passed the rest of the weekend idling listlessly around her apartment, trying to concentrate on some books on salesmanship which Mr. Cunningham had suggested she read. Early Sunday evening, after a meager dinner which she forced herself to eat, she climbed back in bed and gradually drifted off to sleep.
The following morning she woke early and after seriously contemplating not showing up for work, dressed herself in a gray-checked jumper with a white long sleeved blouse underneath. As usual, she pulled her long dark hair back in an austere bun, donned her dark-framed glasses and headed out to her convertible.
When she arrived at work at a quarter to nine, she was surprised to find Nick Saxby already at his desk, his feet propped up on it as usual, a broad grin playing over his handsome arrogant face. He certainly looked bright and cheery, she thought to herself as she passed by his office, but she quickly looked away, partly out of guilt since she had a strong feeling that Nick wouldn't be with the company much longer. Good riddance to him anyway, he was nothing but a little playboy who thought he could succeed in business by charming everyone, not by putting in long hours of hard work as she did.
"Well, hello, Norma," her fellow marketing analyst called out to her in a pleasant voice as she walked briskly by.
"Good morning, Mr. Saxby," she answered formally as she entered her office, a small cubicle surrounded by metal partitions and topped by frosted glass windows.
To her surprise, Saxby strolled casually up to her desk and asked if she wanted a cup of coffee. She removed her dark-framed glasses to stare at him, trying to figure out what his game was. At first she thought he was being sarcastic because ever since she'd been with the company she had refused to take her turn at coffee duty like the rest of the girls.
A moment later, though, she could see he wasn't being sarcastic at all, he was smiling so pleasantly at her.
"All right," she said finally. "I think I will."
Before she could count to ten, her rival was back with a steaming hot cup which he set on her desk. Uninvited, he pulled a chair up, lit a cigarette, and casually crossed his legs.
'Tell me something, Norma," he said. "Do you think you'll make vice-president?"
The question was so blunt that it caught her completely off guard, and she could almost feel herself blushing.
"Why ... I haven't the slightest idea. Mr. Cunningham hasn't mentioned a thing about it. Why do you ask?"
Nick grinned coyly, realizing he could afford to grin now that he had taken those incriminating pictures of her seducing the two young kids. He'd dropped them off at the photo lab and requested a rush job.
"Just curiosity," he said. "He certainly seems to be very fond of your work."
"Well, / happen to be fond of my work too." At that Nick threw his hands up in the air. "Look, don't bite me," he grinned. "I'm just making conversation. After all, I don't get much chance to talk with you. You're always so busy."
"Mr. Saxby, I know you're trying to get at something, but I don't know what it is." She glanced quickly down at her wristwatch. "It's almost nine now, and I have a lot of work to do. Perhaps you could do the same."
Snotty bitch, he thought to himself. She really played that office robot act to the hilt. He was going to enjoy it when he knocked her down a notch, when he showed her the photos of that young kid screwing her through her panties and caught the expression on her face. Shit, he was really going to enjoy it, but now was not the time to spring his surprise. Now was the time to just act normal, and so he took another sip of coffee and rose from his chair.
"Just call me Nick," he winked from the entrance to her office. He gave her a last lingering grin and went on his way.
As he left, Norma looked up from the papers she had pretended to busy herself with and felt a strange uneasiness clouding her mind. Why was he suddenly trying to be so friendly to her, and why had he just dropped into her office to pay her a visit? There was something ominous in his tone of voice, something a bit too familiar for her taste.
Norma continued to ponder this strange behavior until Mr. Cunningham called her into his office, at which point she dismissed all thoughts of her rival from her mind.
As she took a seat on the opposite side of the president's desk, she saw him lean back in his swivel chair, fold his powerful hands in his lap, and smile at her in a fatherly way. Norma knew that was a good sign, because Arthur Cunningham did not smile at everyone, and he did not give compliments easily, which was the way she liked it.
There was no other male she admired more than this handsome fifty year old industrialist. Even from the alertness of his deep-set brown eyes it was evident that his mind was as sharp as a razor. He exuded an air of calm confidence that was reflected in his strong distinguished features, his neatly combed-back steel gray hair, and the rugged character lines in his leathery suntanned face.
"Norma," he said finally. "I want to tell you that you've been doing an excellent job. I've read every word of your report, and I agree with you completely. You've hit on exactly the right approach for the advertising agency."
"Thank you, Mr. Cunningham," she answered promptly.
"I also want you to know that we're seriously considering you for the post of marketing vice-president. We've kept that post open a long time - ever since Ned Baxter left - and we've done it for a good reason. We want to find the right person. Of course, there's one problem. We've never had a woman in that high a position before."
Norma braced herself for what she thought was going to come, the thing she had been fighting all her life. He was going to tell her that her work was excellent, but that women just weren't suited for executive positions. They received expensive training then left to get married, pregnant, etc. Her mind flashed back quickly to the experience which had occurred when she was thirteen years old - the day the boys had sent her to the sidelines. Men were all the same, she thought bitterly. They let you play the game, and then whether they were thirteen or thirty, shoved you aside when you played too well.
Surprisingly, though, Arthur Cunningham did not say what she expected.
"In spite of the fact that we've never had a woman vice-president," he resumed. "I'm willing to back you, provided you can show me you know how to handle men. You have to understand, Norma, business just isn't statistics and marketing forecasts. The human element is the main thing - especially when you're dealing with sales. And if you're going to be marketing vice-president, you've got to know how to handle salesmen - men like Benny Smith and Don Richardson. In essence, you've got to become one of the boys, and if you can do that, you're a sure bet for vice-president."
"Mr. Cunningham," Norma interrupted him. "I certainly can't be one of the boys, but I think I've proven that I'm competitive and I know what I'm doing. I think I can earn the respect of all our salesmen."
"Good, good!" Cunningham smiled. "I have confidence in you, Norma, and I know you can do the job."
"Thank you, Mr. Cunningham, thank you very much." Norma said and, realizing that the brief meeting was at an end, she rose from her chair in front of Arthur Cunningham's desk.
As she left the room, the fifty year old widower's eyes fixed on the slender columns of her legs and the neatly rounded mounds of her firmly swaying buttocks. Damn, he thought to himself. If she would only loosen up, she'd be one hell of a broad . . .
In the meantime, Nick Saxby hadn't been able to get a stitch of work done the whole time Norma was in Cunningham's office. He had a hunch that the boss was praising his female rival's work, and it was getting him very upset. His hunch was confirmed when the female computer emerged from the-president's office with a smug little smile on her face, the first one he had ever seen her give. Shit, he thought to himself, she was damn well going to be the next marketing vice-president unless he moved fast, unless he developed a sure-fire plan to stop her.
For the rest of the day, Nick racked his brains, smoking cigarette after cigarette. The first part of the plan was easy. He was going to pay Norma a visit and show her certain photographs he had taken. That he would do tonight. The second part of the plan was more difficult, for not only did he want her to give up her ambition to be vice-president, he also wanted everyone else in the office to know what a hypocrite she was, to know that her high-powered career girl act was just a phony and that deep down inside she was a sex-crazed whore lusting after any little-boy cock she could find. That would be his ultimate vengeance for the fact that she had tried to do him out of what he thought was rightfully his. And that was where things got complicated.
By mid-afternoon, though, a definite plan was finally beginning to take shape in his mind. The plan involved a party he was going to throw, a real wild party - in fact, an orgy. Two things were necessary for it to succeed. First he had to lure Norma to his apartment on the appointed night, and second he had to make sure that people from the office would show up, because he needed witnesses to observe the real Norma Peterson, the woman he had seen seducing two young boys on a suburban football field the day before yesterday. To make the plan succeed, he needed the cooperation of Flo Jones, and he knew the young blonde secretary would be plenty willing to help out.
By the time five o'clock rolled around Nick Saxby was on top of the world. Over at the coat rack he accosted Flo and invited her to McGurk's bar across the street for a drink, an invitation she willingly accepted.
The bar was a dingy joint with a pinball machine in the back and half-drunk laborers occupying the stools facing the counter. They all turned around and stared brazenly as Flo entered with Nick, glancing at her coat as though it were mink and gaping at the pair of breasts that swelled voluptuously beneath it.
Nick led the young secretary quickly to a booth in the back room near the pin-ball machine and took a seat opposite her. He ordered two drinks when the bartender finally came around and then proceeded with his business as Flo slipped out of her coat.
"Listen," he said excitedly. "I've got some good news. I found out about Norma Peterson. You were absolutely right. She likes little boys."
"You see? I told you so," the aggressive young blonde said as the bartender placed two drinks in front of them.
Nick reached out, grinned at her, and patted her hand.
"I'm gonna fix her, Flo baby. I'm gonna fix her for good."
"It's about time," Flo said. "What did you find out?"
"I can't tell you right now, because it's part of a plan I'm still trying to work out, but I need your help."
"Oh yeah?"
"That's right," Nick confided. "You've got to invite some friends of yours from the office to a party I'm having at my apartment."
"A party? Oh yeah?" Flo cooed, too dumb to realize that he was trying to imply something important.
''It's more than a party Flo. It's something special. I want you to bring some girls who know what it's all about, you know what I mean?"
"So . . . you're planning an orgy," Flo whispered secretively, her blue eyes lighting with a seductive twinkle. Nick grinned.
"That's right, sweetheart. A genuine orgy, and Norma Peterson is the star performer."
"You're putting me on, Nick," the eager young blonde chided.
"I'm telling the truth, I swear it. I've got a plan and I think it'll work. It's something out little Miss Peterson can't possibly back out of.'
"Tell me, I'm dying to hear about it."
"No, no," Nick objected. "Not yet, you'll find out in good time. But I need your help. Can I count on you?"
"You can count on me all right," the young secretary swore, the expression on her face becoming cold and calculating. "That damn Peterson bitch has been on my ass ever since she started. I'm getting sick and tired of the high-handed way she acts."
"Well, if things work out right, Norma Peterson isn't going to be on anybody's ass except her own," Nick chuckled confidently.
After glancing at his watch, he downed his drink and hurriedly excused himself. He laid a five dollar bill on the table in front of his female ally and headed out the door before she could protest his abrupt departure.
When he arrived at the photo lab, it was almost closing time. Behind the counter stood the proprietor, a white-haired old man with slumping shoulders, who scanned his customer up and down as if he were memorizing a description for the police. Finally, the old man took his claim slip.
"All thirty-six of them come out?" Nick inquired as casually as he could.
"Nope," the owner said. "Just twenty-four." Nick's face went pale.
"Twenty-four, what are you talkin' about? There were thirty-six shots."
"Show ya what I mean," the old man said cunningly and shuffled into the back room. He returned a moment later with two separate boxes. Pointing to the first box, he said: "This here box has twenty-four slides. That runs you the normal price. This other box has twelve slides in it. That's gonna run you twenty dollars."
For a moment Nick didn't know whether to blow up or simply grab the smaller box and dash out of the store. Then he saw a sly smile cross the old codger's face, and he burst out laughing.
"Okay you greedy old bastard," he chuckled as he reached in his wallet. "Now tell me how they came out."
"Look for yourself," the owner said as he pocketed the folding money and handed his client a small viewer from the counter.
Nick opened the box excitedly, slipped in the slides one by one, and smiled like a baby. Perfect! Absolutely perfect - each one of them. Close-ups of the seductive expression on Norma Peterson's face, shots of her lewdly spread legs with the young kid gaping down at them, and even a couple of beauties showing the super-career girl's hands wrapped around the teenager's cock. Hell, this stuff was so hot it was burning his hands.
"Friend of yours?" the old man leered.
"It's my grandmother," Nick said, inserting the slides in his coat pocket as he turned to hasten out the door.
* * *
At the same moment, the object of the incriminating photos, Norma Peterson, was just changing out of her work clothes and donning a long ,gauzy peignoir in the privacy of her city center apartment. Customarily she didn't drink at all during the week ... but tonight she felt was an exception as she happily went about mixing a pitcher of martinis. After all, there weren't many girls who'd been practically assured of becoming vice-president in a large manufacturing company.
She deserved it too, she thought. She had worked hard getting a master's degree and from there learning all about industrial marketing. Ironically, though, if it hadn't been for her special problem, the strange compulsion to expose her panties to young boys, she wouldn't have gotten where she was now. It was to keep from dwelling on this obsession of hers that she'd buried herself in work and stayed free of romantic entanglements with men her own age. Her sexual needs being satisfied in her own perverse way, the only thing that remained was to absorb herself in the business world where she had carved an important niche.
Even now, as she transported the pitcher of martinis and a glass to the low-slung living room couch, she was in the process of improving her mind, for on an end table nearby lay a half-read book on salesmanship which Mr. Cunningham suggested she go through. If only she could master some of the techniques of relating to people she would have the coveted position of marketing vice-president in the bag, and this was the only way she knew to begin the task - by reading a book.
Her eyes scanned the pages rapidly in an alert professional manner, and within ten minutes she was thoroughly absorbed in the material - so absorbed, in fact, that she did not hear the doorbell until the fourth ring, and then she practically jumped from her seat.
Who in the world? she thought to herself, glancing at her watch as she went to the door. It was seven o'clock in the evening. She wasn't expecting anyone, and it certainly didn't seem like a logical time for somebody to pay a visit on her. Hesitantly she opened the door a tiny crack, and got the surprise of her life. It was Nick Saxby!
Dressed in a neat blue shirt, his suitcoat draped over his left shoulder, his top shirt button undone and his tie pulled down, he was casually resting one arm against the doorjamb. And he was smiling at her - that arrogant little smile of his - as though it was the most natural thing in the world to just drop by like this.
"What are you doing here?" Norma gasped, ready to slam the door in his face.
"Just thought I'd stop by for a minute," he chuckled suggestively.
"How did you find my address?" she demanded angrily, self-consciously clasping the folds of her peignoir together at the top.
"Easy. I just looked it up in the personnel file."
"Well I can see somebody's going to be in trouble. Those files are supposed to be confidential."
Nick calmly lit a cigarette and blew smoke through the crack in the door.
"Listen, I have some important business I want to discuss with you. I suggest you let me in."
"You can discuss it from right where you are," she huffed, absolutely amazed at his brazen attitude.
"If you're smart, baby, you'll let me in. My business concerns two young boys and a certain woman."
The words hit her like a fist in the stomach, and the events of the Saturday morning she'd spent on the suburban high school football field flashed through her mind like a quick nightmare. But how could Nick Saxby possibly know about that? How could anyone know about that?
Her look of surprise registered with Nick, and his confidence grew. Before she could shut the door on him he pulled out a stack of color slides from his shirt pocket and flashed them before her eyes.
"I think you'll be interested in these," he leered. "They're not exactly pictures of sailboats."
Norma's eyes darted desperately back and forth, trying to find a way out of the trap she knew was being set for her. But it was hopeless. Somehow, he had found out what she'd done. Somehow he had learned the truth that no one else had discovered, and he was holding the proof in front of her eyes, or at least pretending to.
"You better let me in," he grinned. "You wouldn't want any of those nasty office rumors to make the rounds, would you?"
Norma grew suddenly pale at the implied threat, her hands trembling as she clenched the door knob tightly. God, it was all over now. Someone had discovered her secret life, and that someone was the very man who could do the most harm. How desperately she wanted to claw his eyes out! But in spite of her growing anger she knew she must remain outwardly calm. He could be bluffing after all. Grudgingly she undid the chain lock on the apartment door and opened it.
"Well, well, well," Nick clucked as he swaggered inside and eyed the living room. "Pretty nice setup you have. Pretty nice getup too," he leered as he eyes the diaphorous gown she was wearing. Hell, he could see practically everything - those round, up-tilted tits of hers, even the outline of her tight-fitting bikini panties. No sir, this wasn't the same Norma Peterson he knew from work. This was the Norma Peterson who fucked little boys.
Instinctively the young career girl crossed her arms over her breasts to hide them from his searing gaze. Then she turned and headed briskly into the bedroom to slip into something more modest. To her surprise, though, the uninvited guest simply followed her in and sat down on the edge of the bed, bouncing on it slightly as though trying it for size.
"I don't discuss business in the bedroom. Mr. Saxby," she informed him coldly as she tightened the belt of a dark blue bathrobe around her waist.
"Oh, I like bedrooms. I always talk business in the bedroom. How about a drink?"
"Look, if this is some sort of joke, why don't we just forget about it," Norma retorted.
Nick gave her a level gaze, knitting his dark eyebrows together.
"I said I'd like a drink," he repeated slowly.
For the first time Norma realized this brazen intruder was a dangerous foe, not just an ineffectual playboy. His menacing tone of voice was beginning to- frighten her, and after hesitating for a long moment, she went to the living room to retrieve the pitcher of martinis. She paused there, wondering whether to call the police. But what would she tell them? And if she did call, he was sure to use whatever information he had against her. No, the only thing to do was to bring him the drink he wanted. Only she'd be damned if she was going to get him a glass too.
"Tell me, Norma," he said as she re-entered the bedroom. "Do you usually spend your evenings sitting at home drinking martinis?
He was sitting casually on the edge of the bed as if he owned it and staring at her with a kind of mocking curiosity. Rudely, she thrust the pitcher of martinis in his hand and took a sip from her own half-empty glass, backing away toward a low bureau against the wall.
"No glass?" he inquired.
"Not for you," she snapped. "You're not exactly a guest."
"You're a very nasty little girl," Nick informed her as he grinned back and took a deep draught from the pitcher.
"Suppose we discuss business, Mister Saxby."
"Don't pull your high and mighty act with me," he cautioned her. "We're out of the office now. It's just you and me."
Norma's face flushed red with anger. God, she wanted to toss her drink in his face, but somehow she managed to control herself.
"Okay, I'm ready to talk," he said finally in a level but still threatening voice. Casually he tossed his suit coat onto the foot of the bed and took the slides from his pocket.
"Here take a look at these," he teased "You'll enjoy them."
He held the slides in the hand of his outstretched arm like bait for a helpless fish as Norma, trembling desperately, approached him, setting her drink on the bureau.
"Here take them." He raised them up toward her out-reaching hand and slid the top one off the stack with his thumb.
By God, he thought, she was trapped now. She was shaking all over, her fingers trembling so badly she could barely get a grip on the mounting.
"Go on," Nick coaxed. "Raise it up to the light and take a good look. Take a real good look, baby."
Norma's mind was torn in half. She wanted to snatch the whole stack of filthy photos from his hands and destroy them before he could stop her. But at the same time she knew she must force herself to see how incriminating they really were.
Reluctantly, standing at the edge of the bed to one side of him, she raised the tiny mounted piece of film toward the overhead light and inspected it as her tormentor grinned cruelly up at her.
A wave of panic surged through her body, her heart pounded, and her face paled. God, she was finished now! It was all over. The tiny piece of film had captured the young boy with his pants down, his thickened little penis cuddled in her hands. The camera had focused on her face so clearly that anyone who knew her would recognize her immediately. She was ruined, destroyed!
Angrily she hurled the evidence down at him, wishing it were a brick instead of a flimsy piece of film.
"What do you want?" she hissed contemptuously.
"We'll talk about that in a minute. I'm going to pour you a drink first to take away that nasty edge in your voice."
Gloating in his new found power over his rival, he hoisted up the martini pitcher from the floor by the bed, ambled over to the bureau where her glass was sitting, and casually refilled it.
"Here, take it," he offered. "You're going to need it."
Norma gazed at him bitterly, helpless anger rising inside her body. She wanted to kill him, destroy him for what he had done. He pressed the glass into her unsteady hand and grinned at her in hateful triumph. He had her just where he wanted her - under his thumb, only that wasn't the only thing she was going to be under tonight.
"Drink up, doll. It kills the pain."
Norma's knuckles turned white as she gripped the thin stem of her glass. Then suddenly her hand made a swift upward movement, and in a split second her tormentor's face was dripping with gin and vermouth.
"That does it, baby!" Nick rasped furiously as he lunged toward her. He grabbed her wrists, twisting them painfully until the glass dropped from her left hand. Violently he pinned her arms behind her and pulled her body tightly against his.
"Don't, I'll call the police!" she gasped helplessly.
"Don't give me that shit. You would have called them already."
"Let me go!" she squealed, desperately trying to free her wrists from his grip. But it was hopeless, she knew she could never resist anyone as strong as him.
Before she knew what was happening he had forced her down on the bed and torn her bathrobe loose at the waist. Kneeling on the mattress his knees wedged in between her legs and splayed them apart as his hands wrenched the robe down off her shoulders. The skirts of her flimsy peignoir underneath spread apart, leaving the insides of her thighs naked and unprotected.
'This time, you're the underdog," he hissed down at her between tightly clenched teeth. Squirming helplessly, she tried to free her legs to kick at him, but he only forced his knees tighter between them, wedging her thighs farther apart.
He bent forward from his haunches, still firmly positioned between the struggling girl's legs and pinned down her shoulder with one hand as he seized her jaw with the other Pressing his lips hotly against hers, he speared his tongue up between them into the warm wet cavern of her mouth.
Desperately she tried to jerk her head away, but his hand held it in place. She gasped for air as his tongue jousted with hers and then thrust deep up into her throat, squirming like a wild animal with a life of its own.
"Aaaaaaagh!" she choked, her body jerking violently as she tried to break away. But as quickly as he had inserted his tongue, he withdrew it and, with his hands pressing down her shoulders, his face only inches from hers, he gazed cruelly into her eyes.
"Now, you're gonna feel some real man-cock inside that hot little pussy of yours," he snarled obscenely down at her.
"N-no, don't rape me! I'll give you anything you want. J-just get out of here."
"This is what I want, baby," he muttered as he lowered his head again and began kissing her neck with savage passion.
She struggled to free her legs held wide on either side of his thighs, but he spread his knees farther apart, stretching them wider with brutal cruelty.
"Just relax, baby," he crooned. "I'm better than any fourteen year old kid. Besides, I want to teach you a lesson for throwing that drink at me."
"N-no! God! You're hurting me!" she wailed.
Suddenly he pushed himself off her shoulders and thrust back to a kneeling position. She squirmed back on the bed, seeing a chance to bring her legs together, but his hands quickly grasped her calves just below the knee, raised them up, and held them against either side of his chest as his arms clamped around them like tight vises. Her limbs were locked in a helpless position.
"Stop! Let me go!" she squealed like a frantic child.
"Nothing' doing," he growled, reveling in his power over her. "I want to get inside those pretty little panties of yours."
"God-d-d, no! Not my panties!" she wailed, tremors of fear pulsing through her body. No one had ever taken her panties off, not even the innocent young boys she had exposed them to. It was her panties that allowed her to control males, to tease and torture them. She could never let them be stripped away!
Desperately, she tried to thrust herself to a sitting position to escape the powerful hold he had on her legs, but as her arms strained to push the top half of her body upward, he suddenly levered her trapped legs high splaying them lewdly apart. Her balance was ruined, and she toppled back onto the mattress.
Seeing her upended, he jerked her legs back down against the mattress, spread them wide, and pinned them down with the strength of his forearms. Lurching forward again, his fingers hooked into the narrow elastic of her panty waistband on either side of her hips.
"No, not my panties!" the horrified woman gasped, bucking and squirming like a trapped animal. Arching her back powerfully and tensing her muscles she again tried to break loose, but he only tightened his grip on her, spurred on by the excitement of her desperately writhing loins. His buttocks resting back on the heels of his shoes, he bent low until his face was only inches away from her pussy, framed by the milk-white "vee" of her thighs. He could see the thin strands of her dark pubic hairs curling out from the legband of her white panties on either side, the shapely mound of her vagina swelling beneath the crotchband, and he licked his lips in nervous preparation for the feast that was about to begin.
His head lowered slowly to the point of the silk-swathed triangle, and his tongue flicked at it with a sudden snake-like swiftness.
"OOOOOOH, God! Let me go!" she wailed bitterly. She pushed up to a sitting position and reached forward to grab his hair in her hands. She yanked it brutally, but it only seemed to excite him more, and his tongue pushed the panty silk forward into the tight little opening of her diaphanously guarded pussy until she could feel his saliva mingling with the hot seeping moisture of her own loins.
Levering up her thighs, he raised them so that they fell over his shoulders on either side. Helplessly Norma kicked at his back with her naked heels trying to hurt him with all her might, but she was powerless as a tiny child, and his fingers hooking into her panty waistband again began to roll them slowly down her hips. Her whole body bucked in wild protest.
"Nooo, not my panties, no!" she squealed.
Nick grinned up at her from between her legs with a triumphant smile on his face. So that was it, he thought to himself. It wasn't just young kids she was after. Panties were her hangup. Her whole thing was to go around exposing her panties to teenage boys without actually letting them get inside her. She was a cock-teaser... just one big panty-flashing cock-teaser! It was going to be easier than he thought to turn her on. All he had to do now was keep her panties on, and he could have anything he wanted.
Without warning he unhooked his thumbs from the frilly waistband, pushed her legs away, and hoisted himself to a standing position at the side of the bed. Hurriedly he pulled his shirt from his pants and began unbuttoning it.
Norma saw her chance and attempted to dash past him toward the door, but his arm caught her waist and hurled her back down onto the mattress. She realized it was impossible to escape now, and in spite of her fear she found her eyes glancing at his powerful hairy chest and muscular biceps while at the same time seeking another escape route. There was no doubt that this was a man before her and not a young boy - a man who wanted to dominate her in the same way she dominated the boys she exposed herself to.
Her eyes wide open in horrified amazement, she watched as he stepped out of his pants and dropped his shorts. His thickly erect cock sprang right out like a menacing spear beneath his belly.
"N-no! Don't, Don't!" she gasped in horror as he smiled cruelly down at her. Propelling herself slowly backward with her arms along the bed, she tried to reach the safety of the far edge, but in one swift move he dove at her, seizing the smooth trembling flesh of her hips through her peignoir and pulling her toward him along the mattress.
Norma froze, all hope gone. She was sure he was going to rape her now, and there was nothing she could do about it. He would shove that huge thick penis of his up between her legs and expect her to scream. God, how could any woman take something so big inside her without being split apart? At that horrible thought she came to life and squirmed again as his naked body mounted on top of hers. The trembling thickness of his cock pulsed obscenely through the gauzy material of her peignoir against her almost naked belly.
His hands tore at the narrow ribbon holding the flimsy garment together at the top, and as she mustered the last of her strength to fight him, he pulled it down off her shoulders and clamped his mouth savagely on her naked milk-white breast. She squealed in panic as his tongue swirled around the rigid bud of her nipple, sending crazy sensations darting through her body. Hungrily he sucked the swelling heaving mound deep inside his mouth as groans of protest poured from Norma's lips.
Finally she managed to push his head back and hold him at arm's length while his penis throbbed excitedly against her belly as he supported his torso in a push-up position, his arms on either side of her shoulders.
"Goddamn, I've been waiting a long time for this," he swore vengefully at the woman who was trying to take his job from him. A cruel grin flashed across his face as he contemplated what he was going to do to her, how he was going to make her pay for her unnatural ambition.
"N-no, please don't do it to me, she pleaded in a trembling voice. All the calm composure she displayed in the office had disappeared so that now she was a squealing mass of fright, in thrall to the dominating male on top of her.
"Don't worry," he reassured her. "I'm not going to fuck you yet. I'm gonna tongue that little pussy of yours, and get you nice and hot. .. just the way you were with those little kids the other day."
Norma groaned in despair, clenching her eyes tightly shut as if to brace herself for what was to come. Her energy was almost gone now, and she did not know how much longer she could resist this intruder's lustful will.
Nick drew himself up on his knees and spread her legs yet wider apart on either side of his body. Resting his buttocks on his heels he bent forward and gripped the insides of her thighs. He had found her weak spot now - those panties of hers - and he was going to take full advantage of it.
His fingers hooked into the narrow elastic panty waistband, but instead of sliding them down off her hips he merely drew it slowly down from the center until it revealed the hair-covered mound of her pussy. His fingers rested on the stretched elastic, brushing tantalizingly against her soft dark pubic hair.
Norma lay perfectly still, tense with anticipation. It was all over now, her body could no longer resist the humiliation that was to come.
With his fingers resting on the surface of her pulled-down panties, he moved his thumbs gently to the hair fringed lips of her pussy, and with a slow outward movement began to draw them apart until the pinkly moistened slit was exposed to the mercy of his gaze. He watched it greedily for a moment, and then with a low animal-like groan dropped his head and buried the full length of his slippery slithering tongue deep up into the moist softness of her cunt.
His blackmailed business rival jerked, a soul-searing moan escaping from deep in her chest. Her buttocks ground down into the mattress in a vain attempt to escape the maddening assault on her most secret flesh.
"Oh God, oh ooooooh!" she whimpered before her co-worker's attack. Her head was up off the mattress watching in horrified disbelief that this nightmare was actually happening to her as his head began to rock up and down in greedy feast between her legs.
"AAAAGGHHH! NO, DON'T! STOP, STOP!" she wailed bitterly, her head falling back on the mattress and flailing helplessly from side to side as his tongue speared in and out of the involuntarily dilating lips of her cunt. In spite of her terror and humiliation at the debasing things being done to her defenseless genitals, tiny wisps of weird erotic sensation began to ripple down deep in her naked belly.
Nick's hands reached up over the white flatness of her quivering belly and dug harshly into the softly trembling mounds of her breasts, his fingers rolling the hardening nipples between them in unrelenting fury. As his mouth and tongue worked in slavering subjugation at the widespread tightness of her cunt, his eyes remained wide-open to delight in the contortions of her fear-contorted face. He was waiting for her to turn into the sex-crazed siren he had seen offering herself to those young teenage boys.
And he would not have long to wait either, for even now as Norma struggled with the last ounce of resistance in her body she could feel the animal desire flaring even more intensely in her loins. It was impossible to believe these tiny electric thrills were being caused by a grown man who was forcing her to submit to his will and not from young boys whose every move she could control. God, it was so different from anything she had experienced before. For the first time she could feel the savage thrill of illicit adult sex rippling through her soul as this man she so hated made obscene wet sucking noises between her legs.
Saxby's eyes remained locked on her face as he continued the torturing thrusts of his tongue deep up into her vagina. He watched her body struggle and squirm as she tried to fight the lewd sensations that threatened to burst out of control. God, he wanted nothing more than to hear her suddenly beg and scream for his cock inside that hungry little pussy of hers. Chuckling softly to himself, he jerked her panties down another inch or so, bent forward again and traced tiny lewd circles with his tongue around the moistly pulsating little bud of her clitoris.
The searing hot contact with this sensitive nerve center brought a low moan of anguish from the helpless brunette's parted lips. She clenched her eyes shut and bared her lips back over her teeth to brace herself against the torturing sensations it sent racing out of control through her captive body.
"OOOOOOOOOH God, Don't suck me! Don't. Don't!" she whimpered, desperately trying to screw her pussy back down and away from the hotly flicking tongue. His only answer was a lewd chuckle from between his wet lips and another stab in between her moistly glistening cuntal flanges.
Slowly his Fingers slipped down between the mattress and her buttocks until he could seize the fearfully trembling mounds of flesh. Digging harshly into them with his nails, he lifted them up tighter to his face for better access to her reluctantly proffered loins.
Norma could feel her body rapidly deserting her now. Her buttocks spasmed involuntarily as her tormentor's tongue flicked maddeningly at the hidden depths of her cunt.
"Stop, stop! I can't stand it!" she gasped as she twisted and squirmed on the bed. Clenching her teeth together, she fought with all her remaining will against the unwanted sensations of pleasure that threatened to burst free inside her at any moment. But it was a losing battle as Nick Saxby continued to lick without cease at her lewdly inflamed pussy and knead the firm roundness of her undulating ass-cheeks.
And then after a final desperate struggle within her tortured mind, something snapped. She could stand it no longer - the obscene position of her body, the wild pulsations of lust that were beginning to ripple through her cunt, the lewd placement of her panties, stretched to the limit between her thighs. Never before had she experienced such savage pleasure with a man of her own age, a man she could not control.
She jerked spasmodically and began a slow gyrating movement up and down against his obscenely thrusting tongue. Her hands curled down into his hair as a low, soul-stirring moan issued from deep in her chest . . . She knew she was ruined now. Her body had betrayed her, and there was no turning back.
Norma's lust-fired company rival easily sensed the beginning of her surrender and grinned in triumph as he drove his tongue rhythmically in and out of her dilating pussy. He could feel her silk-soft pubic hairs graze tantalizingly against the tip of his nose as her buttocks clenched and loosened in a slow hypnotic rhythm up against his face. Any minute now, she would be turned on the way she'd been with those young kids. Any minute now she would be his, and he watched the lustful contortions of her face as she tried to banish the wild thrills that were threatening to overcome her.
"Now, I'm gonna fuck you," he breathed savagely. "Better than any little boy could!"
Norma lay still, her body trembling with both fear and desire, her panties suspended tautly between her legs like a stretched rubber band, her breath coming so fast she felt her lungs would burst. Her belly quivered and heaved as though he already had his long thick cock shoved deep up inside her helpless vagina.
Nick came up to a kneeling position again between her thighs and gloated over the humiliated form of his office rival.
"I'm really gonna fuck you," he breathed harshly. "I'm gonna fuck you like it's never been done before. I want to see you twist and squirm when this cock of mine sinks into your snotty little belly!"
Norma clenched her eyes shut again and held her body rigid. There was no fighting it any more. He was determined to rape her, and the horrible thing about it was that she was going to enjoy it, she was going to enjoy being dominated and penetrated by a full-grown male. Oh God, she had sunk to the very depths of depravity!
"Spread your legs wider," Nick grinned as he reached forward and roughly jerked her panties down even farther. He pushed her panty-hobbled thighs flat against the mattress and, straddling her hips with his knees, guided his madly pulsing cock forward. The thick rubbery head parted the already moistened lips of her cunt and inched its way up inside, throbbing with lustful intensity.
Turning her head to one side on the mattress Norma shuddered as she felt the searing electrical contact of his cock-head. She held her breath for what seemed an eternity, her body trembling with frantic excitement.
"Oooooooh," she breathed as she felt the throbbing pressure against the tiny elastic opening of her vagina He pushed.
"Aaaaaaagh," she coughed as the round bulbous tip slipped through, stretching the tight little passage cruelly until Norma thought it was surely going to split apart.
"Ooooooooh, God, no, you're hurting me!" She was suddenly pleading at the top of her voice as her eyes opened in pain and fear. God, he was torturing her, and he was enjoying it!
Suddenly the grin on his face faded only to be replaced by a frightening expression of savage primitive lust. He could stand it no more, watching the woman who was his most dangerous career competitor lying spread-eagled beneath him with the head of his lust-swollen cock disappearing into the dark brown hair of her pussy.
He had to fuck her, he had to, and quick!
As he fell forward, his weight smashed her breasts back tightly against her chest. Thrusting his hips at the same time, he drove his massively bloated cock up into her cunt like a raging bull after the red flag, pushing the soft moist flesh of her vaginal walls in rippling waves before it. There was no stopping him until with a loud groan his balls smacked heavily down into the narrow crease of her tightly clenched buttocks. And down below his sperm-filled testicles, her tight-stretched panties held him like a silken glove.
"Oh God! Oh God! she cried beneath him. She had never been so filled in her life - his cock felt as though it had ripped her vagina into a thousand tiny shreds as he speared into her without mercy or thought of injury. And now, now his painfully impaling member lay sunk in her belly, filling every part of her insides. A man's cock, long and hard and thick, not a boy's slender immature penis. There wasn't one tiny ridge on the blood-engorged rod of flesh that she could not feel as it pressed against the tight sensitive flesh of her vagina, enclosed in the spasmodically clutching sheath like a sword sliced cruelly into its piteous victim's belly.
He lay still for a moment, his face poised directly over hers. Norma, too, lay immobile, afraid to move for fear of the pain it might bring. Neither made a sound for a long moment, and then suddenly she felt a throb deep inside as the thickness of Nick's cock jerked up another half inch deep inside her vagina.
"Auuuuuuuuuuugh! It hurts! It's too big!" she wailed, her face contorting to the deeper pain. Even as she protested, her hotly fluttering cunt-lips flowered wide to accommodate the lust-bloated shaft of his madly pulsing penis. God, this was going to kill her!
"Told ya I'd stretch that tight little pussy of yours, baby," he taunted her, again flexing his still burgeoning hardness.
"Aaaaaaaaagh," she groaned deeper this time, the cords in her neck standing out from the pressure of her resistance.
"Like it?" he grinned down in lewd delight at the pained expression on her face.
There was no answer.
"Like it, baby?" he flexed again.
"Ooooooooh, yes, yes," she cried, afraid now to offend him. The pain was just unbearable. God, he was destroying her. She had never known a cock could be this huge.
"Beg me then," he hissed.
"W-what?" was all the anguished girl could utter.
"Beg me."
"Oooooooh, no, I can't, I can't," she moaned beneath him.
"Beg me to fuck you now!" His rigidly throbbing cock flexed a third time deep up inside her quivering belly, forcing another groan from her lips.
"Ooooooooh God, don't, I can't." She struggled with all her strength and courage to escape this one final humiliation. This she knew would be the ultimate unconditional surrender. There would be no escaping him ever again.
Saxby inched his turgid embedded weapon deeper into her imprisoned belly, digging his fingers into the wriggling softness of her buttocks at the same time.
"Do it," he commanded, savage fire burning in his eyes. "Beg me, you bitch!"
"Oooooh, God," she sobbed, her resistance broken by the very pain and utter helplessness of her position. "Do it to me, do it to me."
"Not like that. Say - Please fuck me, Mr. Saxby," he demanded, reveling in her obvious shame.
"Please fuck me, Mr. Saxby," she hissed through clenched teeth, tears gushing from her eyes as she spat out the salacious words. Her humiliation and degradation were complete. She would never be the same again. She had allowed herself to lose control over all the things she knew were right, and now she wished she were dead. There was nothing left but the relentless cock-shaft buried deep up inside her lewdly violated vagina, her panties stretched between her widespread thighs.
Nick Saxby clamped his wet lips suddenly right down over her mouth and began a slow rocking motion with his hips as he straddled her open legs. He could feel her tight-clenched cuntal passage widening slightly with each pulsating stroke as she groaned in defeat beneath him. It wouldn't take long to turn this smooth Venus-bodied panty-freak into a raw squealing mass of helpless feminine desire. He could predict it by the way she'd responded to his earlier touches.
Norma's body began to react again with savage passion in spite of the fact that Saxby had made her beg - maybe even because of it, the confused brunette mused fleetingly to herself. She had lost the battle against these obscene feelings now, and even the agonizing thought of her total surrender sent chills of unexplainable excitement running up and down her spine as she felt the slow rhythm of his cock begin skewering wetly up between her legs.
Her whole body twitched and writhed beneath him and she groaned incessantly up into the moistness of his mouth, shoving her tongue with a sudden complete reciprocating abandon deep into his throat. Low hums of passionate servile acceptance came in torrents from her throat, her face contorted with lust, her mouth working, her neck straining for the release she now so desperately craved.
Nick dug his fingers even harder into her obscenely working buttocks. They flexed and unflexed, oozing like dough between his fingers as he pressed his hands tightly into them. He jerked her up harder to his loins and felt her straining with him, the moistly tingling orifice of her cunt flowering even wider to receive his cock to greater and greater depths.
The pain was gone now and her panty-held legs twitched up against his straddling thighs. Her eyes were closed and her tongue worked and slaved inside his mouth as small mewling sounds of velvety pleasure rumbled from her throat. The cords in her neck and thighs stood out in livid relief as she writhed beneath him from the intensity of her feeling. With horror and self-loathing, she realized that she had to satisfy him now, or everything would be lost. Her job, her self-respect, everything! And, God, she was actually enjoying it.
Nick slaved above her, moving suddenly into longer, smoother strokes that brought his cock almost all the way out of her hotly clasping vagina on the backstroke and then thrusting forward again deeper and deeper. He grinned at the thought of besting this cold-hearted bitch, and slid his fingers down over her ass-cheeks until he found the small puckered opening of her anus cradled defenselessly below. It was soft and warm and he could feel it working with the movement of her buttocks pushing against his loins.
With his outstretched middle finger he pushed into the tight little hole until her body jerked with increased excitement.
"Ooooooooooh," she groaned from the outrageous probing of her nether flesh.
But there was no respite. With a vicious lunge, he shoved his finger all the way in up to the hilt until his palm slapped flat against her obscenely skewered buttocks.
"Aarrggh!" she groaned, but he continued working his finger around inside, stretching the rubbery softness wider and wider as he ground into her. Then he slipped another finger in and felt the tight resistance give way as it moved into the soft warm depths of her rectum to join the first.
The deep guttural noises coming from her chest slowed into whimpers of pain for a moment and then subsided to be replaced by greater moans of unwanted pleasure as her anus gradually became accustomed to the strange unnatural invasion.
Her victorious co-worker smiled a smile of triumph down into her open mouth as he felt her begin to screw her rectum back onto his fingers while he probed them methodically around the warm elastic lower recesses of her belly. She was hopelessly impaled between his hard throbbing cock in her vagina and his fingers shoved tightly up her anus. And now, moaning and mewling again beneath him, she began twisting and squealing in abandon under the lewd double ravishment of her loins.
He slid his other hand slowly up from the frantically gyrating cheeks of her buttocks to where his cock was sliding in and out of her pussy, and could feel the soft, hair-lined folds clasped tight to its hardness, pulling and giving with each long hard jackhammer thrust into her.
For a moment, he fondled the contracting lips of her lewdly stretching pussy at the place where he entered her, bringing softer moans of abandoned sensation from her mouth and at the same time feeling the ever-widening passage of her clasping vagina opening in greedy desire to swallow the whole of his cock plunging far up inside her.
She was ready to cum - he could feel it as her legs jerked savagely beneath the arch of his thighs. He ripped his fingers from her wildly clutching anus and seized her breasts, pinching her nipples until she squealed with pain. The pile-driving thrusts of his cock drove deep up inside her cunt with salacious wet sucking noises that only carried her closer and closer to her elusive orgasm.
"Oh, oh, oh," she chanted wantonly beneath him, her face a mask of unbridled passion, all thoughts of her panties or the teenage boys she'd seduced - or her precious job - now vanished from her lust-crazed mind.
He grunted and groaned as he quickened his stroke so that his rock-hard shaft bored far up into the hidden untouched recesses of her womb. Her breasts heaved and quivered beneath the pressure of his chest, her tiny swollen nipples digging into him like buttons on a coat.
He felt her cunt opening around him and warm gushes of fiery orgasmic liquid flooding around his frantically pistoning cock. Faster and faster he thrust, digging deep, deeper - wanting her to remember this fucking all her life.
He felt her jerk up toward him several times, the lips of her cunt working and sucking as though trying to milk him dry. Her breath was coming in short desperate gasps and he thrust deep again, suddenly feeling his own hot wet sperm rush up from his bloated testicles and shoot from the tip of his cock far up into her orgiastically quivering belly.
Norma spasmed and twitched with the force of her passion, gasping and crying like a tortured animal. And finally her legs went limp, continuing to twitch and jerk as the energy drained from her body. Her heart pounded in her chest as though it would burst. Her body was beaten and satisfied as it had never been before, but the sudden wave of shame and humiliation returned to her again as she remembered where she was and who was lying on top of her.
Oh God, how would she ever be able to go to the office again?
Chapter Four
When Norma awoke the next morning, strange feelings mingled confusedly in her mind. On the one hand, the unhappy brunette felt enormously depressed at the prospect of resigning from Cunningham Manufacturing, for that was what she would surely have to do now that she had been blackmailed. But on the other hand, she felt an unusual kind of satisfaction combined with a deep sense of guilt - the same kind of feeling she had experienced in the past after seducing young boys. She hated to admit it, but deep down inside she had actually enjoyed the savage assault on her body by her unscrupulous office rival - not that she meant to give in to Nick Saxby that easily. She still had a plan in mind to save her job, and she intended to do her best to make it work.
But how could she make it work, she wondered as she tossed off her bedcovers and approached the dresser mirror. Lazily she ran her fingers through the thick locks of her rich brown hair, and then the idea struck. This time, to get her way in the office, she would use a pound of honey instead of a teaspoon of vinegar. Nick Saxby couldn't be a complete sadist, and if she turned on the charm, perhaps she could persuade him to realize that he'd made a mistake and to give her those obscene photos back. She might even have to seduce him, but it would be worth it, even though she despised him for what he'd done to her. At least she could reassert her power over the male sex and, if successful, still qualify for the vice-presidency.
God, it was going to be difficult to act pleasant toward a man of her own age. It had always been difficult, though at one time she remembered trying to do her best. It was the time when John Peters, a fellow senior in the small New England college she had attended as an undergraduate had proposed marriage to her.
She had thought the matter over for several days and then decided to accept his offer, though she'd still had misgivings. She loved John as much as she could love any man, but for some reason he just did not excite her sexually, and the problem, she realized, was hers, not his. She could recall vividly the first night he had attempted to sleep with her in his off-campus apartment. Sensing somehow that the attempt was going to end in disaster, Norma tried in vain to make excuses.
"Wait a minute. Where are you going?" her thin scholarly-looking fiance had demanded as she gathered her books up and threw a sweater over her shoulders.
"I've got to leave now, John. I've got a lot of studying to do before finals."
"Leave, what do you mean? I thought you already finished studying?"
"I did, but - " she hesitated as he curled his arms around her shoulders and gazed at her tenderly.
"Norma, for Pete's sake, we're engaged now."
"I know, John, I know, but there's something I can't tell you."
"You mean you don't want to sleep with me. That's it, isn't it?"
God, she hadn't meant to hurt him, but what could she say?
"It's not that, John. It's a certain problem I have that I just can't tell you about."
"Oh, Norma, for Pete's sake. You're just scared that's all. It's the first time, isn't it? Every girl is scared the first time."
He said it with great assurance, as though he were certain of his facts. And technically he was right, for she'd never slept with a man before, although there were two nameless young boys in her past whom she'd thoroughly enjoyed going all the way with - whose every trembling move had inflamed the hot relentless desires of her loins. But she was not about to reveal her secret to her fiance and she allowed him to retain his illusions.
In fact, she even went so far as to abandon her plans to return to the dorm and she accompanied him into the bedroom, though she dreaded what she knew was about to happen.
Swiftly, John removed his clothes and set his glasses down on the make-shift end table by the head of his bed, then waited for her to do the same. Doing as he expected, she too stripped naked - all except her panties.
"Well, aren't you going to take them off?" he said as though the way for them to make love was to immediately remove all their clothing and jump into bed.
It was impossible to explain to him what her panties meant to her, how they were the focus of her forbidden escapades with young boys. Her whole secret sex life ever since the age of thirteen had centered around them. They were the red flag that she waved in front of young teenagers to attract their attention, to assert her power over them, and her whole body trembled with delight as she teased them with the thought of what unobtainable treasures lay beneath. John, however, couldn't possibly understand something like that.
Her young fiance wasn't totally inexperienced in sex, of course, but he had no idea of the forbidden side of it, the strange ways in which men and women can heighten their lust to a wild fever pitch. His idea was simply that a man and a woman took off all their clothes and went to bed - a very rational idea for a scholar who intended to pursue a doctorate in history.
Norma hid her true feelings and did as he bade her, removing her panties and then lying down on the bed beside him. It was one of the dullest nights she ever spent - ten minutes of kissing and petting and then a premature attempt at intercourse which left her completely cold. After it was all over, and her fiance had cum, she was left hanging in the air, with images of handsome young boys whom she could so easily tantalize and seduce floating through her mind in spite of her will to shut them out. From that point on, she knew her engagement was over.
That same night she left John's apartment and, propelled by an inner compulsion that she could not resist, set out in her car for a local bowling alley where she knew she would find teenage boys. The attractive college co-ed as usual succeeded with ease, luring a wide-eyed fourteen year old boy into her car and driving to a rural area where she joyously seduced him. They were all the same, yet all so excitingly different - these young boys, so bashful and so eager that they aroused the same lustful eagerness in herself, although she always maintained firm control of the situation and made them do exactly as she wanted. She could remember how nervously this particular teenager had rolled her panties down below her hips, the almost frightened look in his eyes as she guided his head in between her legs and felt his tongue begin to lick at her naked pussy. God, how much more exciting it had been than the boring conventional way her fiance had attempted sex. How much more exciting it always was when forbidden!
Now, however, as she stood in front of her dresser mirror lost in reflections, the young career woman realized that her secret life was about to break into the open, and that she must do everything possible to stop that from happening. Yes, she thought to herself, the only approach was to play up to Nick Saxby in the hope that she could conquer him. Assuming she was successful, she could always fire him at the first excuse after she was named vice-president.
The first thing necessary, Norma decided, was a sudden change in appearance to make herself look more attractive in the office and thus convince Saxby that she had changed her high-handed ways. So, instead of tying her hair back in the usual school teacher's bun, she began running a brush through her thick chestnut locks until they glowed with a lustrous sheen. Then, instead of putting on her glasses, she retrieved her contact lenses from her dresser drawer. There, she thought to herself when she was done, this should certainly make a difference.
The difference was noted immediately at the office - especially by Flo Jones at the coffee machine, who nudged Davey Wilson firmly in the ribs.
"For Pete's sake, will ya look at that!" Flo gasped.
The redheaded office boy could hardly believe his eyes. Miss Peterson was wearing her hair long and her glasses were gone. And hell, the dress she was wearing was so short he could practically see her panties from where he was standing. Jesus, she looked like a real sexy broad!
Later when Flo entered Norma Peterson's office, she discovered that not only had her boss's appearance changed, her whole personality had too, or at least that's the way it seemed.
"No, Flo, I really don't have anything for you to do at this moment. Why don't you just enjoy your coffee," her female boss smiled at her.
What a change! It was almost too good to be true. For the first time since Norma Peterson had started working at Cunningham, she was actually becoming pleasant!
When Nick arrived at nine-twenty that morning, late as usual, Flo scurried immediately into his office.
"My God!" she said breathlessly. "You really must have done something. She's changed completely."
Nick glanced over his shoulder at the new Norma sitting in her office, wearing her dark hair down in the style he recognized from the evening before, and obviously sporting contact lenses instead of glasses. So, he thought, I'm supposed to think that all she needed was a good stiff cock. Ha! He was a bit too smart to fall for that act. For one thing he accurately sensed that Norma Peterson was just playing a role as usual. In the past she'd worn one costume in the office and another on the weekends when she set out to seduce little boys. Now, he was pretty sure, she'd just switched costumes, that's all. She's a clever broad, he thought shrewdly to himself, and it certainly doesn't make sense that she would just suddenly change her personality for everyone in the office to see. In short, he was still worried. Norma Peterson was up to something, the clever little bitch. Still, he had further plans for her, so he'd play along for a while.
"Listen, Flo," he said. "Have you got anybody lined up yet for the party at my place this Friday?"
"I talked to a couple of people. I called two girl friends last night and I talked to three girls from the office this morning."
"Good, good! The more people you can get from the office the better. Invite a couple of salesmen too. You're my official hostess."
"Sure, Nick," Flo said. "But I still don't see what you've got in mind."
"Just trust me, Flo baby. I'm gonna get Norma Peterson off your back once and for all."
"Okay, I'll trust you," she shrugged, a mischievous twinkle glittering in her clear blue eyes. She frowned at him quizzically and headed back to her typing desk.
With the exception of lunch, which he ate in a small diner across the street from the company, Nick remained in his office until late afternoon, letting Norma sweat, though he was still suspicious about what kind of game she was trying to play. At four he finally sauntered into the neighboring cubicle to pay her a little visit.
"I've been expecting you," she said quite pleasantly, smiling at him as he stared back in response.
"Oh have you?" he said suspiciously.
"Yes, I expected you much earlier in fact." Norma continued smiling at him, though deep down inside she wanted to kill him for taking advantage of her the way he had.
She managed to suppress her primitive venal urge by thinking about how she was going to get the best of him, and held her smile as though she were posing for a portrait.
Nick, for his part, still eyed her suspiciously but began to warm up. Hell, how could he help it? She was flashing that winning smile at him, looking warm and satisfied. Maybe all she had needed was a good stiff cock to break down that icy reserve of hers.
His ego surged sky-high as he contemplated this somehow unlikely thought, as he pulled up a chair.
"Look, baby, why don't we just stop this battle and call a truce."
"That's fine with me, Nick," Norma said, using his first name without a trace of embarrassment. She leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs, smiling at him easily, though she hated herself for doing it.
"I'll tell you what," Nick said. "I'm having a little party at my apartment this Friday. Why don't you just come along?"
"Well, I might and I might not," she answered coyly.
"Oh?" Nick grinned. " "It depends on what you offer me in return."
"The photos, you mean?"
"Yes, exactly. That was a rather nasty trick you pulled, taking pictures like that!"
"Not as nasty as trying to screw me out of the vice-presidency," he countered. "Stop over at my place around nine or ten on Friday, and we'll make a deal. Okay?"
He gave her a quick wink as he backed out of her office, but the moment he reached his desk, he began thinking things over. There was something strange about her behavior. By all rights she should be feeling depressed and hating his guts. But no, she was sitting there smiling at him as though they were the best of friends.
For the first time, Nick began to realize exactly what she was up to. She was still in there fighting for her career, and undoubtedly at his expense. She was tougher than he thought. Any other woman in this position would have quit her job and gone to another town. But the fact remained, he still had the goods on her, and he was going to have a little fun with her besides.
He was going to get her in a situation she could never live down. He was going to make sure she got screwed by everyone in the office, just like she screwed them - only in a different sense of the word. This phony act of hers was going to come apart at the seams.
Chapter Five
Nick Saxby's apartment in an exclusive building on Philadelphia's main line was an elegant bachelor pad - the kind of place that could serve as a background for an ad in Playboy magazine. And on Friday night it looked especially elegant.
The spacious living room area was furnished with expensive modern furniture - black leather couches against walls at opposite ends of the room, a thick oaken table laden with bowls of appetizers and party sandwiches, low-slung, scooped-out chairs, and on the floor, thick wall-to-wall beige carpeting.
Across the room from the table stood a mahogany paneled bar and behind it Nick's official hostess for the evening, Flo Jones, who was dressed in a tight-fitting low-cut red dress that made her look like a racy sexpot.
Leaning on the counter, the buxom blonde was busy sampling the expensive imported liqueurs that Nick stocked - at great expense - for some of his more discriminating dates, like Tanya, the tall oriental-looking model from the advertising agency that handled the Cunningham account. As Flo oohed and aahed at the strange, sweet tastes, Nick scurried about to make sure everything was well-arranged for his little "party." This would be the most important soiree he'd ever thrown in his life, for if things worked right, Norma Peterson was certain to quit the company in disgrace as a result of it and pave the way for him to assume the vice-presidency.
He straightened the throw pillows on one of the black leather couches and turned to the vivacious secretary behind the bar.
"Hey Flo, come over here, I want to show you something," he said.
Flo set down her drink and followed him to the bedroom, the center of which was occupied by a luxurious circular bed. To one side of it stood something that looked rather out of place - a zebra-striped spread loosely draped over an indistinguishable object. It looked like the kind of drop-cloth that artists put over their sculptures before the grand unveiling.
"See this?" Nick said.
"Sure, I see it. It looks like some sort of bedspread."
"You're right, Flo baby. It is a bedspread, but there's something underneath it."
"What is this? Twenty questions?"
Nick grinned, then ambled over and ripped the zebra-patterned cloth off the hidden object with a dramatic gesture. Underneath was revealed a slide projector mounted on a table with casters.
"So what?" Flo said, shrugging her shoulders.
"This, baby doll, is our 'light show' for the evening. I have certain slides in here that I'm going to show in front of our dear Miss Peterson. Certain slides that are going to embarrass the hell out of her."
"Will you stop talking riddles!" Flo demanded.
Nick faced the secretary, a rugged grin lighting his face, and grasped her shoulders.
"Flo baby, this is what you and I have been waiting for. When I get Norma Peterson in this room and she sees those slides, she'll flip out. And when everybody else from Cunningham is sitting in this room looking at the same slides, they're gonna flip too. That bitch will be on her way out of a job in no time flat."
"You mean you really got something on her?" Flo gasped incredulously.
"You're damn right, baby," Nick assured her. "Here's where you come in. I want everybody from the office inside this bedroom around ten o'clock. Tell them you're gonna smoke a joint or something. I have some grass in a plastic bag behind the bar."
"Oh, / get it," Flo said. "Once everybody's in the bedroom, you walk in with Norma Peterson, and we start the slide show. But how are you planning to keep her in there?"
"Just leave that to me, sweetheart," Nick grinned and clapped her on the shoulders just as the doorbell rang. He looked up. "It looks like we have guests."
Jovially, the buoyant host parted company with his female ally and answered the door. He was greeted by one of Cunningham's top salesmen, Don Richardson, a sandy-haired ex-football player dressed in a blue suit and striped regimental tie.
"Hello, Nick my man," Richardson grinned as he entered the apartment. "This sure as hell doesn't look like an orgy to me."
"The guest of honor hasn't arrived yet. Just wait my friend, just wait." ' Clapping the hefty salesman on the back, Nick led him to the bar, and was joined by Flo, who emerged from the bedroom. Richardson eyed the young secretary's low-cut dress and whistled appreciatively.
"So this is the guest of honor!"
"Afraid not," Nick laughed. "The guest of honor is none other than Miss Norma Peterson."
At that, the smile on the salesman's face suddenly disappeared.
"Now you're putting me on, old buddy. If Norma Peterson is coming to this party, I'm leaving."
"Just hang on," Nick assured him as Flo fixed a bourbon and water, which she knew from past experience was Richardson's usual libation.
"I'm serious, Nick. If that bitch comes in here tonight I'm either gonna walk out or belt her in the mouth. I got the worst goddamn memo from her today that I've ever seen from anybody in the home office. She blamed me for losing the Powell account in no uncertain terms."
"You're not the only one who hates her," Flo said as she set Richardson's glass in front of him and began fixing a gin and tonic for Nick. "I know at least three girls in the marketing department who'd like to strangle her."
"Well, in that case, I don't get it," the sandy-haired salesman said in a puzzled tone of voice. "If everybody hates her, how come she's the so-called guest of honor tonight?"
"You might say it's a surprise party for our dear Miss Peterson. We have a certain surprise that we're going to show her. A surprise she won't like at all."
"Now you've really got me confused," Richardson said.
"Don't worry about it. I've got it all planned," Nick reassured him as the doorbell rang again. "Believe me, the people from the office are going to have the time of their life."
Setting down his drink, Nick crossed the living room and opened the door on a group of people from the advertising agency which handled the Cunningham account. Tanya, the six-foot tall Eurasian model, was the first one to greet him.
"Oh darling, it's going to be such a divine little party," she raved in her usual ecstatic manner as she threw her arms around him to plant a kiss on his lips. The others in her party included two more models and several account executive types, and as they entered, Flo turned on the stereo set in back of the bar so that the apartment suddenly filled with blaring rock music. Nick was beginning to get high just anticipating what would happen when his female nemesis walked in.
Ten minutes later people from the office began filtering into the plush bachelor pad: Davey Wilson, the redheaded office boy; Nina Wilcox, a dark haired secretary who had been practically fired by Norma Peterson; and several junior executive types who were scared to death of their female boss' icy superiority. Nick practically rubbed his hands together in glee. Flo had done a good job all right. She had invited just about all the people with a grudge against Norma Peterson - the very people who would gloat over seeing the incriminating photos he had taken blown up to twenty times their normal size and flashed on the wall before their eyes.
"Drink up, everybody!" he called out above the din of the blaring stereo set. "We're gonna have a real blast tonight!"
* * *
The scene was quite different at Norma Peterson's apartment, though. Upstairs in the third floor of the town house on Pine Street, it was quiet to the point of being morbid. Norma had dressed for the party almost an hour ago, slipping on an elegant short black dress that molded tightly to the voluptuous curves of her breasts and buttocks. But even now the nervous brunette had not quite mustered the courage to set out for Nick Saxby's place. Instead she was dallying, fiddling with a small gold earring as she took a needed sip of her second martini of the evening.
She couldn't help feeling there was something very ominous about this party. Why hadn't Saxby come right out and said he wanted her to resign from Cunningham Manufacturing? Why had he insisted that she show up at his party tonight? It must be that he wanted a repeat performance of what had happened the night he had dropped in on her. If that was the case, there was very little she could do. She would have to lead him on until he gave her those dirty slides he'd taken, and when that happened, she would wreak her vengeance on him. In spite of the dizziness she was beginning to feel from the two martinis, Norma raised the long-stemmed glass to her lips and took another long sip. God, how she needed that drink now . . . .. . Back at Nick's place, the party was growing noisier and more festive by the minute. The living room was thick with clouds of cigarette smoke, conversations were flowing, and the music was blasting, its heavy vibrations rattling the paintings on the wall. Couples lay leisurely spread out on throw pillows on the floor, men were beginning to loosen their ties, and all the while Nick Saxby was biding his time . . . waiting for Norma Peterson to make her entrance.
On the other side of town, finally, at about a quarter to ten, the reluctant career girl overcame her hesitancy and headed for her convertible parked a block away. Her head was beginning to spin even faster now, though she wasn't really drunk yet. In fact, she felt almost carefree, having resigned herself to the fact that whatever happened tonight couldn't be avoided. And besides, she was bound to get those films back .. . .. . Five minutes after Norma left, Nick Saxby made a phone call. The phone rang ten times without being answered, and he set the receiver down at last. The thing to do now was to set his plan in action.
Wending his way through the crowded living room, he located Flo, who was bent over the bar counter displaying her buxom breasts to one of the advertising agency account executives.
"It's time now," he whispered in her ear as inconspicuously as he could. "Start getting our office people into the bedroom!
"What if somebody else wants to come in and smoke a joint?" she whispered back.
'The more the merrier. But start getting them in there."
A vengeful grin lit up the obedient young secretary's face, and she reached below the bar to locate the plastic bag of marijuana that Nick had secreted there along with a small box of cigarette papers. At last, she thought to herself, she was finally going to get back at that snooty Miss Peterson, and it was about time.
Nick remained by the bar as Flo began rounding up the Cunningham people and herding them into his bedroom. The plan was starting to work like a charm, and now all he needed was one certain young female marketing analyst to show up at the door. As he nursed a drink to kill time, Tanya, the model, slinked up next to him.
"Darling, you have such a horrible expression on your face," she cooed in his ear.
"Oh really?" Nick said casually.
"Yes, you look as though you're devising some truly awful plan."
He grinned at her, realizing he could make good use of the uninhibited agency model. She'd be the perfect catalyst to get things going in the bedroom.
"You're absolutely right, Tanya, my love. Terrible things are going to happen in the bedroom tonight. Shall we join the others for a joint?"
"Oh, it sounds so exciting, darling. Just lead the way."
The tall alluring model wrapped her arm around Nick's waist and accompanied him into the bedroom where Flo was busy rolling joints on the floor by the bed.
"Oooooh - I just love grass," Tanya swooned exultantly at the sight of the thickly rolled joints on the carpet. As Nick handed her one she inserted it in a long-stemmed cigarette holder, lit it and took a deep drag.
"It's so strong I just know you have evil plans for these lovely people. Take some, Nicky."
"No, no," Nick protested. "I've got to stay sober tonight. I have my evil plans to attend to."
"You must darling. It makes your balls grow."
Reluctantly, Nick took a short swift drag, wincing as the powerful drug burned his throat and set his head spinning. My God, he thought, that grass was equal to five martinis, but so much the better. Once these people were loosened up, there would be no holding them back when Norma Peterson walked in.
In just a matter of minutes the plush bedroom was filled with an incense-like cloud. Nick observed the glazed-eyed expressions on his fellow employees' faces as they relaxed further and spread out on the floor. He was almost getting high himself. Finally, Tanya stretched her long luxurious body and announced in a deep throaty voice: "Darlings, it is so hot in here. I do believe I'll take off my dress."
The dark-haired Amazon-like model rose to her feet, curled her hands behind her back and slid down the zipper of her tightly clinging black sheath. All eyes were fixed on her as she stepped out of it and lifted her slip up over her head. Her brief black lace brassiere came next as she slid the straps down over her shoulders to reveal the full white mounds of her voluptuously swelling breasts.
"There, that's so much better," she sighed as she sank down to her knees and took a deep drag on the joint. "Come darlings, we must all take our clothes off," she urged the others in her cultivated but commanding voice.
At last, Nick mused, this pleasant little party was about to turn into the genuine orgy he'd hoped for, thanks to Tanya's well-known lack of inhibition. If it kept up steam, it would be the perfect scene for his rival to walk into.
The dream-like trance induced by the heavy blanket of marijuana smoke was abruptly interrupted - for the host at least - by the distant sound of the doorbell. Instinctively, Nick knew it was Norma, and he rushed to answer the door. His expectations were confirmed a moment later when he swung the door open and greeted his office rival face to face. Neatly turned out in a dark tasteful cocktail dress that amply displayed her long alluring legs, she flashed a forced smile at him.
"Well, don't we look nice tonight," Nick chuckled.
"Yes, don't we," Norma said, trying her best to conceal her bitterness.
"Come on in and meet my friends," Nick said warmly, taking her coat. "Here, you know Ralph Collier from the ad agency, don't you."
The bald-headed man sporting a flashy wide tie acknowledged the introduction and gave her a quick once-over.
"Oh y-yes, Mr. Collier, of course," Norma said nervously. "I've spoken to you over the phone."
"And here," Nick interrupted, leading her deeper into the party, "You know Ed Beeler, the purchasing agent from Stern Chemical ..."
"Mr. Beeler, certainly ..."
"And here and here and over there are a lot of people you should know," Nick continued, hardly giving her a chance to speak to Mr. Beeler. He held her firmly by the elbow as he conducted her through the smoke-filled room. Norma's eyes darted quickly from group to group, noticing that everyone seemed to be enjoying himself, though she still felt very uncomfortable. But what was there to worry about? What could Nick Saxby do to her at a party with so many guests from the business world? It was later that she was worried about . . . once the party was over and her blackmailer was drunk. The best thing to do would be to press him for the photos now. He certainly seemed mellow enough, and there might be a good chance she could pry them away from him.
"It certainly looks like an enjoyable evening, but perhaps we could conduct our business first," she suggested nervously.
"Our business? Right, of course. Those slides."
"Yes, I would like them back."
"Of course you would," Nick grinned. "Of course. I've got to drop your coat off in the bedroom, and we can both take a look for them in there."
"I ... I would appreciate that," Norma sighed with relief. God, she hadn't thought it would be this easy at all. What had come over him anyway? Had he realized the seriousness of blackmail and decided to forego it?
Nick led the way to the bathroom and stopped just outside the closed door, bending forward to place his ear against it.
"Listen," he said.
Norma's ears strained for a moment and then she heard muffled giggles from the room mingled with the sounds of light groans.
"I don't know," Nick said. "It sounds like there's a private party going on in there. It might be better to wait till later."
Straining to control his delight, Saxby could barely keep a wide smile from breaking out on his face. He could see how uncomfortable Norma was now, how desperately she wanted those slides.
"It... it won't take long to find them, will it?" she stammered.
"Well, they're in my dresser drawer somewhere. I'll have to look for them. Of course, they're pretty important to you, aren't they?"
"Y-yes," Norma broke down. "Please, look for them now."
"All right," Nick said finally. "But I can't vouch for what we're going to walk into."
He grasped the doorknob, turning it with torturous slowness, teasing her until she could barely stand it any longer. Then, stealthily, he pushed the door open inch by inch. The acrid tang of marijuana smoke seeped through the opening like a deep fog, making Norma reel from its power as she took the first step inside.
She squinted her eyes to adjust to the poor illumination, but before she could focus on the smoke-dimmed figures inside she was greeted by a loud chorus of familiar voices.
"Surprise, Miss Peterson!" they shouted, sending a wave of shock rippling through her body. Instinctively she took a step back but heard the door click shut. When she spun around in panic she saw Don Richardson, the massive well-built salesman standing directly in front of it, with one hand behind him firmly clasped around the doorknob. To her horror he was dressed only in his undershirt and shorts with a lewd grin playing across his face.
"So the female executive is paying a visit to the bedroom," he announced. "I didn't know you mingled socially with the lower classes from the office."
Norma stepped back, her heart pounding wildly in her chest, her throat suddenly dry with fear.
"I . . . I" her voice cracked. As she turned away in panic, her eyes flickered over the figures gathered on the floor by the bed and throughout the room.
She recognized the office boy, Davey Wilson, kneeling down with a funny looking cigarette dangling from his mouth. His skinny chest stripped bare and his body clad only in socks and undershorts, he was looking at her with a strange vengefulness burning in his eyes, not his usual expression of confused innocence.
"Hey, look everybody!" he mocked. "It's Miss Peterson."
Next to him, one arm resting on the mattress of the bed, sat her own secretary, Flo Jones, her large out-thrust breasts bolstered by a lacy brassiere and her provocatively swelling hips swathed in white silk panties, but nothing else.
For a moment Norma thought she was going to black out. Her eyes darted to and fro, desperately searching for a friendly face. They lighted on another salesman, Benny Smith, on two young junior executives and on a long lithe female whom she didn't recognize at all and who was reclining casually naked on the carpet as if nothing fazed her.
But without exception, everyone from the office was staring at her in cold stony silence, muted cruelty visible in their eyes. The atmosphere of the room was so tense Norma could almost feel the invisible vibrations of hatred being focused on her. And then she sighted the strange zebra-striped bedspread draped over an object by the bed. It was so out of place, she didn't know what to make of it.
"Miss Peterson is looking for some slides," Nick announced finally.
Norma could feel her cheeks burning with rage, and she struggled desperately to control herself. She dare not say anything now. She had to find a way out of this horrible trap.
"Maybe we can help her look, Nick," the voluptuous young Flo offered sarcastically.
"Yeah sure, we'll give you a hand," Davey Wilson chimed as the older woman stood frozen in horror in the middle of the room.
"Thanks," Nick said jovially, turning toward the dresser as the two others came to join him.
"What do they look like, Nick?" Flo asked as she kneeled down and pulled out the bottom drawer, her eyes flashing a shifty glance at her frightened female boss.
"Oh, just some slides. You know, they're in a plastic case, that's all."
"Are they color slides?" Davey asked.
"Yeah," Nick said, "just regular color slides, you know. I'm sure they're around somewhere. Hey, Norma, why don't you help us look for them?"
"It's - it's all right, it's n-not important," she said helplessly.
"Sure it is, you wanted them right away," Nick contradicted her.
"N-no, please. Don't look for them now. J-just find them some other time." She looked toward the door, desperately seeking a means of escape, but Richardson was still there planted squarely in front of it. The other people in the room, the young secretaries and salesmen were all watching the scene with a curious interest now, though they didn't know exactly what was going on yet. They knew something was going to happen though and in a moment it did.
"Maybe they're here," Flo Jones suggested. Before anyone knew what she was doing the drugged blonde headed over toward the object draped by the zebra-striped bedspread and yanked the cover off with a dramatic gesture. The slide projector mounted on the table with casters was suddenly revealed to Norma's incredulous eyes.
"Oh God!" she gasped.
"Well, look at that," Nick said. "Maybe those are the slides in there. "
"N-no, please!" Norma suddenly cried out, realizing at last what his trap was. He was determined to humiliate her in front of her co-workers, and there was no way out. She tried to lunge toward the projector, but Nick stepped in front of her.
"Somebody put the lights out. We're gonna have a little slide show," he announced as he held her wrists tightly together and forced her toward the bed.
Instantly the lights were out, and an excited murmur filled the room. Norma tried to struggle away from her captor but found herself being abruptly forced down on the mattress.
"No, don't please! Please don't show them!" she begged him, but she could see the look of vengeful pleasure in her own secretary's eyes as Flo settled behind the projector and aimed it at an empty space on the opposite white wall by the door.
Norma struggled to break free but Saxby was immediately up behind her on the bed, sliding his arms tightly through hers, locking them in place and holding her body in a half-kneeling position so that she could do nothing but look at the illuminated square on the wall.
"Go ahead, roll them," he commanded, as Norma clenched her eyes tightly shut, trying to blot out what she knew was going to come, but to her surprise a roar of laughter greeted the first slide. It was a photo of a New England landscape which Nick had shot on his vacation during the summer.
"Look!" Nick prodded her. "Take a good look." Fearfully, Norma opened her eyes, saw what the others had been laughing about and let out a deep sigh of relief.
He loosened his grip on her slightly. "See, that wasn't so bad, was it?"
A confused buzz of muffled voices traveled through the thick, smoke-filled air.
"Hey, what is this?" Don Richardson called out. "I thought we were gonna see a real show." Nick grinned inwardly as Norma's mind whirled with confusion. God, he was a horrible sadist. What was he trying to do to her?
The slides flashed on in rapid succession: landscapes, beach scenes, photos of Tanya, the model, and then a shot of a white convertible parked on the shoulder of a driveway by a football field. It went by so quickly that Norma barely had time to gasp. Two shots of a lighthouse flashed on the wall and then a further shot of a woman in dark glasses inside the white convertible.
"Please, please don't show them. God, no!" Norma gasped in anguished horror.
"You haven't seen anything yet, baby!" Nick whispered in her ear from behind as his arms circled around her waist and slowly began to travel up toward her breasts. Norma's heart was beating crazily inside her chest, and her eyes were wide open now as though she were witnessing her own execution. The next slide brought a titillated whisper from the drug-stimulated office workers who were avidly watching the presentation.
It was a close-up of the attractive dark-haired woman in the car with the top three buttons of her blouse undone, the tight cleavage of her proudly swelling breasts tantalizingly revealed. Norma held her breath in tense anticipation as Saxby's hands began kneading and squeezing her breasts through the soft crinkly material of her black dress.
"Oh God, what do you want from me?" she squealed in helpless frustration.
"Nothing yet, just watch the pictures."
They began to flash on the wall like horrible memories from her past, every lurid detail illuminated in front of her and the people who worked with her . . . ... the abandoned dark-haired woman reclining on the car seat, her legs spread wide apart, her fingertips caressing the frilly crotchband of her white panties.
Then in rapid succession: the young blond boy crawling into the car seat with her, his pants down, her fingers massaging his swollen little cock, the boy bending forward, her fingers guiding his penis against the glistening material of her panty silk.
God, it was a nightmare, a nightmare! She couldn't stand it any more.
"Stop! Stop!" the shamed woman cried out desperately, trying to break loose from her tormentor who tightened his vise-like grip on her arms for a brief second.
The light from the slide projector suddenly flickered off, and the soft room lights went on, casting a fantasy-like haze over the bedroom. All Norma could see were the dim outlines of faces she knew contorted in lust, strange whisperings being exchanged between them; the firefly glow of marijuana cigarettes being lit; and then before she knew it, Davey Wilson standing by the edge of the bed facing her as Nick held her tightly in place. Frantically, she twisted her head to one side to avoid looking into the teenager's vengeance-twisted face. His eyes were filled with lust as he moved closer toward her.
"So, Miss Peterson ain't any better than the rest of us," he sneered viciously.
"That's right," Nick grinned. "Except Miss Peterson likes to flash her panties to teenage boys. Come on, Miss Peterson, show everyone your panties. Davey'll like that. He's still a teenager."
"N-no God, don't make me do this," she squealed helplessly, but it was too late as Nick firmly grasped her shoulders, forced them backward onto the mattress and pinned them to the bed with his knees. One knee on either side of her head, he reached forward for the hem of her dress skirt and drew it up over her thighs as she kicked out wildly with her legs. She was powerless to resist as her panties were mercilessly exposed to the hate-filled teenager in front of her.
"Come on, somebody hold her legs," he commanded, and immediately Flo grasped one ankle while Benny Smith grabbed the other.
Davey sank down on his knees at the foot of the bed, tightly grasped her squirming thighs and, stretching her legs flat on the bed, buried his head between them. Shit, he was really going to enjoy this, he thought to himself, after all the crap Miss Peterson had given him. It was even better than the thought of fucking Flo.
His tongue began a slow circulating motion against her panty silk wedging it ever so slightly between the tiny lips of her cunt until he could feel the first droplets of moisture seeping down from deep in her loins. Tiny tingling sensations raced through his marijuana-drugged body as the fearfully trembling career girl jerked against the sudden lewd contact.
"Oh God, please let me go!" Norma wailed, struggling hopelessly against the hands that held her legs splayed wide apart, against the knees that pinned down her shoulders.
"Not on your life," Nick growled down at her as he pressed hard on her shoulders to keep her from moving. At the same time the young office boy's tongue began burrowing even deeper between her pussy-lips, pushing her panty crotch band before it. Her legs jerked and strained wildly against the teenager's hands tightly clasped around her legs, but it was hopeless. There was no way to escape the horrible humiliation she was being subjected to, and her head began to spin from the combination of her fear and the liquor she had consumed. The hazy thickness of the heavy marijuana smoke made the room waver in front of her eyes as though everything was part of a dream. She saw the mirage-like figure of the young redheaded boy suddenly draw his head out from between her legs and stand up in front of her, then slowly begin pulling his shorts off his legs, a weird unearthly smile crossing his face. She watched in horror as he dropped them and his young eager cock sprang out hard and stiff, threatening her like a menacing spear. God, it was so large for a young boy, she thought to herself in spite of her struggle to break free.
The freckle faced teenager grinned at her and then whispered hoarsely.
"I've been waiting for this for a long time, Miss Peterson. Now it's my turn to give you orders. Get up on your knees."
"Noooo, noooooo!" Norma rasped as the youngster began stroking the swollen bulbous head of his cock. Saxby behind her raised up her shoulders and struggled to pin her arms behind her before she could break loose. He was having trouble until Don Richardson suddenly emerged from the fog of the crowded room and began stripping off his own underwear.
A moment later the burly ex-football player was up on the bed behind the captive woman, taking over from Nick Saxby who willingly relinquished the job just to get a better view of his rival's humiliation.
Richardson's ferocious hands clamped around the helpless woman's waist and turned her over, planting her up on her knees, with her ass-cheeks facing him. She lurched forward to escape but found she could only assume a pushup position, her out-stretched arms supporting the top half of her body as Richardson locked her buttocks against his loins.
"Noooooo," she screamed savagely. "Let me go, let me go!"
"Not until you suck that boy's cock," the salesman grinned brutally, his own cock throbbing against her quivering ass-cheeks through her dress.
God, she was trapped now, hopelessly caught from behind while in front of her the young teenager's cock stood poised like a spear ready to penetrate the depths of her mouth.
"We want to see you perform now, just like you did with those two little kids," Saxby growled at her as he stood next to the teenager, with the slides which he had just removed from the projector in his hand. He shifted them from hand to hand as though they were playing cards, grinning at her sadistically. "You put on a good show and you'll get these slides back, all of them."
"No, no, I won't," she whimpered helplessly, but Richardson suddenly hiked up the hem of her skirt, doubled it up over the small of her back and wedged his throbbing hardness between her panty covered ass-cheeks.
"Oooooooh God!" she moaned at the sudden harsh pressure. In front of her the teenage office boy's eyes lit up gleefully at his female boss's helpless position and he suddenly grasped the long thick locks of her chestnut hair, pulling her head forward.
"Suck my cock!" he commanded in a deep masculine voice the humiliated older woman had never heard from him before. She closed her eyes in bitter submission, still determined she would not go through with this without a fight. Bravely, she clenched her teeth tight as the soft rubbery head of Davey Wilson's penis slipped in between her resisting lips.
"Suck it!" he commanded her again, this time louder, and yanked her head forward. Her eyes opened wide in horror so that she could see the rigid slender shaft disappearing slowly into her mouth. God, it seemed incredibly long, much too long for a teenage boy! She hesitated a moment, sickened by the thought of being made to do such a lewd thing with a mere office boy.
But by this time she felt herself being nudged from the back as the salesman thrust his hips forward against her panty-swathed buttocks. As she suddenly gasped from the unexpected propulsion from behind the eagerly pulsing pole of flesh in front rammed even deeper into the moist cavern of her mouth. She could feel the glans of the lewdly inflated head sliding wetly up the full length of her tongue inside, tiny droplets of lubricating fluid seeping from it to fill the warm cavern between her cheeks with its pungent salty taste.
The teenager's sinewy white hips began a slow undulating motion, his thickly inflamed cock sliding in and out of her mouth with a wet sucking sound guided by his hands gripped tightly in her hair.
Richardson grinned from behind as he poised his rigid penis against the tautened silk of her panties, ready to shove it forward in between her ass-cheeks when he was good and ready. His grin widened with each grunt the office boy made ramming into the office tyrant's helplessly trapped face. He began running his rugged hands over her panties, caressing the cool silken material, sliding the frilly elastic together so that it wedged in the crevice of her buttocks. God, this snotty bitch was really getting what she deserved now. His fingers kneaded the rounded contours of her buttock-moons hungrily as he watched the office boy's distended young cock sawing into her helpless mouth.
Norma could feel the salesman's hands in back roaming over the tops of her thighs and her buttocks, and in front she could see the small red tufts of pubic hair curling out around the base of Davey Wilson's penis. God, she wanted to get it over with as quickly as she could!
Reluctantly she began to suck, running her tongue wetly around and around the wetly lubricated head and flicking the tip teasingly into the tiny open slit of the moist glans until she could feel it throbbing as though it had a life of its own and would erupt any minute in a great fountain of gushing sperm.
Her tortured mind droned on senselessly, the very helplessness of her position excusing away the weird masochistic sensations rising erotically in her belly.
Her head bobbed up and down slavishly over the obscenely impaling shaft of flesh, sucking to end it now, sucking to draw the thick milky semen from it until she killed this impudent young man's lust.
Davey groaned and twisted above her, gasping obscenities and watching with contorted delight the oval-shaped lips straining at his genitals. Behind her, Richardson began playing at Norma's kneeling form like a sex-crazed fiend, running his hands brutally over the milk-white softness of her hips, twisting and squeezing the flesh until small red welts began to appear wherever they touched. Groaning, he pushed her hem farther up along her back and pressed his lips against her spine, tracing a path that sent shivers running to the tips of her still-clothed breasts. His hands descended down to the elastic waistband of her panties and yanked it down over her buttocks.
"Aaaaaaaaagh, nooooooo!" Norma tried to protest, but the cock driving deep into her mouth muffled her cry into a vain unintelligible sound.
Moistening the tip of his middle finger, Richardson slowly glided it up in between her naked ass-cheeks, his other fingers rippling over her wetly moistened pubic hairs. The tip of his finger began circling lightly around the tight nether ring of her anus, and then with a sudden thrust sank deep up inside.
Norma jerked forward from the unexpected digging pain and Davey thrust up again, impaling her mouth more fully on his saliva-moistened cock-shaft until she felt as though it would choke her to death. She gagged slightly at the startling entry, struggling to regain her breath. It came in a great gasping sound as she sucked in from the pressure of the finger digging deep up into her defenseless rectum. Mewls of pained protest escaped from around the tight sucking oval of her lips as he dug in harder and harder, expanding her rectum until she thought she would faint from the agony of the cruel probe.
Her concentration on her skewered anus was short-lived as she felt a sudden tightening of the hands holding her head down on Davey's tirelessly pummeling cock. The drug-incited youth's pelvis began jerking wildly, ramming his achingly stiffened member deeper and deeper up into his boss's submissively sucking mouth. She could feel it throbbing against the warm slimy inside of her cheeks and knew this was it. This mere office boy was going to cum in her mouth; the ultimate humiliation was now being forced on her!
But she wanted to get it over with. She wanted to end the degradation that would take her one step closer to the photographs in Nick Saxby's possession, because she knew those photographs could follow her anywhere she went, even after she had long departed from Cunningham Manufacturing Company. It wasn't just her resignation Saxby wanted, she realized, it was her body and soul. He wanted to humiliate her because she was a woman who had dared to take a man's job. She sucked hungrily, her mouth salivating as it never had before, as Richardson behind pulled and stretched the tight puckered ring of her anus with his middle finger.
Davey groaned above her flailing head and rammed deep up into her throat.
Then suddenly his cock began a jerking motion as, with a savage vengeance, it spewed the hot jets of his cum deep up into her throat. Norma groaned and continued sucking, her Adam's apple bobbing in rapid rhythm as she swallowed the gushing sperm that squirted hotly into the working moistness of her mouth. She clasped her lips in a tight elastic ring around the furiously squirting instrument, swirling her tongue around and around its throbbing head. She wanted to suck it dry, to hurt him for the bitter humiliation he was forcing upon her. His groan of pleasure, mistaken by her for pain, incited her to greater effort. It continued for almost an eternity, and she thought it would never end until finally the hands clamped on the sides of her head fell away and the emptying cock gave one last spurt of its depleted seminal fluid and stopped. The finger in Norma's expanded rectum popped out and the burly salesman behind her pushed her gruffly forward.
"Lick him clean," he commanded hoarsely. The humiliated career woman followed his command quickly, anxious to end it all. She began at the base where the tiny tufts of the teenager's pubic hair protruded and began to lick around it, twirling the tip of her tongue into the thin sticky streams that had escaped the sucking vacuum of her lips. She could feel its satiated limpness jerking slightly under the teasing ministrations and licked avidly to complete her degrading task before Davey's sock sprang to life again.
"Oh wow!" the redheaded office boy shrank back, his eyes glazed with amazement. The athletic salesman behind her grinned, a cruel twinkled sparkling in his eye.
"You're not finished yet, Miss know-it-all," he sneered down at her as she buried her head in her hands on the mattress.
From the other room, Norma could hear the frantic pounding of the music from the stereo, and right here all around her she could sense the fascinated eyes of the office workers gloating in her humiliation. God, what have I ever done to them? What have I done to deserve this?
But as these thoughts whirled through her mind, the salesman behind her suddenly gripped the little elastic band of her panties suspended between the tops of her thighs and crudely yanked them down to just above her knees.
"No, don't take my panties off, please noooooo," his helpless victim wailed bitterly.
"Don't worry, Miss Peterson," Richardson sneered. "I just want to get a better shot at that tight little ass of yours."
Before she could resist, he clamped her tightly around the waist and pulled her ass-cheeks back toward the menacing thick shaft of his penis. Still clad below the waist in her garter belt, stockings and high heels, she jumped at the sudden contact with her vulnerably naked buttocks.
"G-god no, not there, not there!" she pleaded desperately, straining as she pushed up with her arms to brace herself.
"Why not, baby?" Richardson cracked. "You've shafted everybody else up the ass. Now it's your turn."
Norma couldn't believe it was about to happen. Wasn't it enough that they had humiliated her by making her suck the office boy's cock? Now there was going to be a further humiliation. This crude salesman was going to fuck her in the ass while all the secretaries and office workers looked on. God, it was too much to bear!
Desperately, she clenched her legs and buttocks together in automatic reaction to the horrible thought. God, it would kill her to have a fully distended man-cock penetrate her there.
"Man what a nice little ass our marketing analyst has," she heard Richardson crooning behind her. "I'm gonna love this."
Through the haze of bitter sensations that enveloped her the blackmailed brunette felt his powerful hands drawing her buttocks apart. She tried to hold them together but the pressure of his thumbs inserted in her innermost crevice was too great. They were cruelly stretched away from each other until she could feel the cool air rushing into the hot interior between her legs.
"It's too tight," he gloated from his kneeling position. "Better stretch it out a little."
She could feel the tip of his finger again at the entrance of her naked rectum, and she clenched the puckered tiny folds tight in a feverish effort to stop the cruel penetration she knew was coming. For a moment he probed the outer edges of the small elastic circle and then moved forward with a grin, sinking his finger with a jerk up to the first knuckle. Norma jumped from the anticipated pain that was, in fact, not as keen as she'd thought it would be. It was still stretched from his obscene prod dings while she had sucked Davey Wilson a few moments ago. She relaxed slightly until suddenly she felt the extra pressure of another finger ram unexpectedly in alongside the first. It hurt this time, and she jerked forward to escape its painful entry, her body moving a few inches up the bed, groaning as she did so.
"God, no, it hurts!" Tears of pain and humiliation ran from her cheeks again. God, he was really going to make love to her there in front of all these people! This was the ultimate degradation and surrender. She opened her eyes and saw the leering gazes of her co-workers fastened on her, their faces flushed with excitement. God, she wished she could die rather than go through with this!
The degraded woman cringed her buttocks away from her tormentor, but it was useless. He planted the palm of his hand on the small of her back and pushed down tight, his fingers digging cruelly up into her back passage, expanding it mercilessly as he twisted and turned them, preparing her rectum for the coming assault.
As suddenly as he had shoved his fingers in he withdrew them. They seemed to slip out reluctantly, the elastic ring of her anus clinging to them until they popped out with a slight sucking sound. He forced her legs wider with his knees, dropping his head to her buttocks and licking wetly at the crevice between them, moistening the tiny hole as he prepared for a greater entry.
"Ready now, Miss Business Whiz?" he called down at her.
Norma tried desperately to scurry forward on the mattress on her hands and knees, but his hands gripped the tops of her stockinged thighs and pulled her forcefully back.
Her buttocks were high in the air now, waving as if in open invitation to the cruel ravishment that was about to begin.
The big man's knees behind her pushed her legs farther apart, the hair of his legs brushing against the sensual material of her stockings. She was held wide and helpless, completely at his mercy and she bit hard down on her lower lip to keep back the tears of impotent frustration brimming to her eyes.
His hand fastened harshly onto her hips, holding them steady in the air as she felt his thick swollen cock impress itself into the moist naked slit of her buttocks. She gasped in surprise from the first contact. It was huge! She could never take that in her rectum without her belly being ripped in half. In fearful panic, the entrapped woman jerked forward again, attempting to move away.
"Hold her!" Richardson yelled.
Nick Saxby's hands suddenly reached out and pinned down her shoulders, holding her against the mattress. She was wide and helpless now before the unnatural onslaught of the man behind her and she could feel his hairy loins and his obscenely searching penis throbbing hard into her upturned rectum.
His hands coursed down over her buttocks, his thumbs pressing either side of the tiny puckered anus, stretching it wide. Then she felt a probing between the thumbs that was soft and rubbery at first and then grew to a hard, unyielding bluntness.
"Pleeeeeeease nooooooo! It's too big!" she pleaded in a soul-shattering moan as she felt her tightly resisting nether ring giving way before the merciless pressure of his cock-tip popping inside with a jerk.
"Hold her, hold her, that's it Nick!" Richardson puffed from behind. "God, it's tight."
She gasped and then groaned again, but the sounds echoed through the room unheeded. There was no one to help her, no one in the world, all that existed was the excruciating torture of her anus being defiled by the beast behind and the cruel hands pressing her shoulders to the bed. There was no escape from the horror and degradation of the depraved attack on her helpless body. The blunt intrusion of his thick cock vibrated through every fiber of her being, pushing the soft rubbery flesh inside her widely stretched anal passage in great waves of pain before it, filling her belly ceaselessly as though she were being impaled on the trunk of a giant oak by the barbarians of old. She moaned in submission, her eyes opened wide in torment until suddenly she felt the coarse hair of his loins grinding against the softness of her buttocks, the cruelly ravaging cock thickness buried to the hilt.
She groaned in anguish, hung on the end of the stone-hard penis like a pig on a giant roasting spit.
The salesman behind her gasped with sadistic pleasure and began to saw rhythmically and without mercy deep up into the agony-racked depths of her back passage, bringing further sobs of pain and misery from her lips. She had never felt so soiled and debauched in her life, and her whole rectum felt seared and used as Richardson levered up on his knees and began to plunge the full length of his punishing rod back and forth into her with long smooth strokes. It pulled tiny ridges of her tender inner flesh out with the base of his cock as it withdrew for another vicious lunge up inside.
She was aware of Saxby chuckling to himself and pushing down hard on her shoulders with each thrust the lewdly rampaging cock made into her from behind, trapping her servile body between the skewering hardness ploughing into her anus and the hands holding her in front.
Her body jerked and quivered, and her thighs periodically convulsed as an extra hard forward movement seared into her tortured rectal passage. She could hear the salesman's grunts of lust floating through the room around them and hated herself for the pleasure it was bringing him. In spite of her pain she clasped her anal muscles tightly together trying to rip the plunging column of his relentless penile flesh from his body.
"Aaaaaaaaagh, God it's tight!" he groaned, throwing his head back in ecstasy caused by the warmly clasping nether folds enveloping it.
She couldn't permit this indecent sodomizing of her rectum to continue much longer. The humiliation was too great. She had to end it, she had to!
She began to move backward to meet the forward lunge of his cock, undulating her body and swinging her buttocks in rotating circles, clasping his member tightly with the slight throb of her rectum on the outstroke. Richardson watched with delight as the reddish-pink skin from the obscenely distended hole drew back with his cock and sent spasms of pleasure rippling up his spine.
Nick Saxby grinned as he observed the depraved scene unfolding before his eyes. He could see how, in spite of herself, Norma Peterson was getting worked up to a savage frenzy just the way she'd been with those young kids she had seduced. And he gloated over it too, for he wanted everyone in the office to see what a slut she really was. He was really getting back at her with a vengeance now!
Norma was amazed to find that, as she began actively thrusting back to meet Richardson's powerful strokes, the very realization of the debasing humiliation of her position sent shooting jolts of masochistic delight coursing through her veins. She had to play her servile role to the hilt. She had to make him shoot his obscene cum up into her asshole!
He could see her head buried in the mattress, the long locks of her dark hair lashing from shoulder to shoulder as she gasped and moaned in the throes of orgasm. She bucked and churned her body against the salesman mounted behind her, mewling and groaning, encouraging him with the motions of her buttocks to end it all.
Richardson, who sensed her sudden frantic need, began to ram rapidly up into her, hard and deep, battering her quivering buttocks with his pelvis. He gripped the tops of her thighs with his fingers, squeezing with all his strength to pull her back over his expanding cock as though he were slipping a sleeve over an oversize arm. His eyes bulged wide at the spectacle of her abandoned young body bucking before him, and the sadistic desire to hurt rippled through him as he jogged forward with a mighty thrust that seared up her cruelly stretched anus like fire.
"Aaaaaaaggghhhhhhh!" she groaned helplessly as he flicked deeper again.
With the last half-groan, half-scream, Norma could feel in her agony the impaling tormenting staff begin to grow and expand until she thought it would never stop. It was killing her - it was stretching her muscles beyond all human endurance.
"Oh God cum, for God's sake cum!" she gasped in weirdly combined pain and masochistic pleasure as she fucked back wildly at him.
He moaned above her, incoherent words sputtering from his lips, and shoved forward with a thundering thrust that almost tore through the walls of her quivering belly as he exploded his hot thick cum in wave after wave up into the depths of her rectum. She knelt abjectly in front of him, buttocks still waving high in the air, and pressed back against his hairy loins as he poured his sperm deep inside her anal passage, filling her soft rectum to the bursting point with warm sticky wetness. The satiated salesman groaned with delight and collapsed over her body, flattening her to the bed.
After a while the blackmailed woman felt his weight lifting from her and the softness of his deflated penis slipping out with a wet sucking noise from the confines of her flooded, forever expanded anus. She felt wet and slightly sore there but nothing like what she had experienced at the beginning. There was nothing left now. Her fellow workers had debauched and humiliated her beyond all belief. But this was only the beginning.
Through the dream-like haze of the dimly lit room she could see her own secretary crawl up on the bed and with a look of hateful revenge burning in her eyes, suddenly rip the zipper of Norma's dress down her back. At that point of exhaustion, the abused older woman barely resisted as the expensive garment was slipped off her shoulders, yanked down over her waist, and torn from her legs.
"That's it, Miss Peterson," the drugged blonde vixen crooned in a throaty voice. "Let's take all your nice little clothes off."
"No, don't do this to me!" The female executive pleaded in vain for mercy. But there was none to be had, as her drug-crazed co-workers crudely pulled her slip over her head. Desperately she tried to reach down to pull her panties up, but her arms were suddenly pinned to the mattress and she was laid flat on her back. Someone's hands slid between her shoulders and the bed, undid her brassiere snap, and slid the straps down off her shoulders.
Her mind was so beaten and battered now that she hardly knew what to do when Flo Jones suddenly kneeled between her legs.
"You're going to enjoy this, Miss Peterson. I'll bet you've never been fucked by a grown-up girl before," she hissed vengefully.
The young blonde's knees splayed Norma's legs wide apart and she lowered her own panty-cloaked vagina down on top of her boss's naked pussy.
"Look, Miss Peterson, I've got panties, too." she crooned as she began to rub her pussy wildly against the other woman's.
"God, no, not this!" Norma squealed helplessly at the obscene lesbian act she was being forced to submit to.
Her mind began to spin crazily as though she were tumbling head over heels into a deep chamber of horrors. Harsh masculine hands seized her breasts and began to caress her nipples until they grew hard and rigid with unwanted excitement. The young secretary slipped her fingers through Norma's garter straps and began to move the older woman's legs in an outward splaying rhythm.
"We've got you now, Miss Peterson," the voices seemed to be screaming in chorus. "It's our turn to have fun now."
The voices grew in volume, rang and shouted in her ears as her body began to spasm and undulate. Her mind floated away from her body as hands rubbed and kneaded her vagina, tweaked her nipples, and pulled savagely at her hair. Then as suddenly as her perverted rape had begun, Flo Jones dismounted from between Norma's legs only to be replaced by the naked body of one of the other salesmen.
His massive loins crushed her against the mattress, and she could feel the thickly palpitating shaft of his penis penetrating suddenly right up into the depths of her cunt. She twitched and spasmed, her body jerking with overwhelming pulsations of unwanted desire. The room began to spin, the voices faded like the sound of tinkling glasses, and without knowing what she was doing she wrapped her stocking-sheathed legs around the salesman's naked body, squeezing and releasing her thighs around his buttocks as he pumped his cock relentlessly up into her pussy.
The rampaging hardness rippled through the velvet moisture of her savagely aroused cunt like a rocket blasting off into space, and then she heard a voice from somewhere wailing.
"Fuck me, fuck me, you bastards!" Somewhere deep in her mind she realized it was her own voice, but it didn't matter now. Everything was lost. There was nothing left but the savage obscenity of being fucked until she could not stand it any more, of hands brutally squeezing her nipples, fingers gliding deep up into her rectum and prying her ass-cheeks apart.
"Ooooooooh God, cum all over me, you bastards!" she panted, the tendons in her neck bulging like steel rods, her head flailing from side to side.
From his position by the foot of the bed, Nick Saxby watched the lewd goings-on with brutal glee. He was the victor now. Norma Peterson would never show up in the office again after the humiliation she had suffered.
He watched her high-heeled shoes dig into the salesman's back as her body jerked and gyrated, trying to squeeze every last rigid inch of his cock deep up into the hotly clasping walls of her pussy.
He listened with delight to her savage cries of delirious lust as she gritted her teeth together and raked her fingernails over the other man's sweating flesh.
And as Nick watched, he slowly began to strip off his own clothes. He was going to enjoy his office rival's cunt one last time before she left the city in humiliation. God, he'd beaten her now. She was finished. No woman was going to take his job away from him. And in spite of the way she was performing now, he was never going to return those photographs to her. He was going to save them for the ultimate triumph over her.
Chapter Six
On Monday morning Norma Peterson called in sick for the first time in her career with Cunningham Manufacturing. On Tuesday she did it for the second time, and during both days her empty office was the object of intense gossip among the young secretaries, office hands, and junior executives as they passed by.
Except for these occasional whisperings, an air of stillness pervaded the office, for by now almost everyone knew what had happened at Nick Saxby's party on Friday night, and almost everyone was waiting to see what would happen when Miss Peterson returned to work. Everyone, that is, except Arthur Cunningham who, being the boss, had no idea what was going on.
From time to time he would emerge from his office and remark how quiet everything seemed to be. On Tuesday he strode up to Flo Jones's typing desk and inquired as to Miss Peterson's whereabouts.
"Sick again? That's strange, I can't remember Miss Peterson ever losing a day of work before,"
Arthur Cunningham muttered in his absent way.
Flo Jones and Davey Wilson could barely keep from bursting out laughing, and as the president returned to his office he couldn't help overhearing their muffled giggles.
This strange behavior was still a mystery to him, and he knew there was something behind it. For some reason it seemed to be connected with Norma Peterson's absence, and he would certainly like to know why.
He also wondered why it had to be his female assistant who was out sick instead of someone else - like Nick Saxby. This was just the time he needed that high-powered brain of hers to work with the advertising agency in setting up the promotion campaign for the new Cunningham valve.
Norma Peterson was one hell of a woman all right. Even the ad agency had said she'd provided a fresh outlook on promoting the new valve. On top of that, her statistical work was always accurate and flawless. The only problem with Norma, he'd noted many times, was her inability to handle people - if she could just be a little bit looser, a little more friendly, she would have it made in the business world or anywhere else for that matter.
In fact, the fifty year old widower mused, if she'd just loosen up she would make an ideal companion for someone like him. He'd been conclusion that he needed to be around someone as intelligent and beautiful as that young lady.
True, her personality was a little stiff, but those short dresses she wore more than made up for it. By God, they made him feel like he was twenty years old again looking at her, and there were times when he couldn't stand up from his desk for fear of revealing the thick bulge in his pants.
You know something, Arthur, you might just give her a whirl, he was telling himself more and more often and, for the first time in years, ever since his wife had died, he began to feel vital again. For the first time he had something to look forward to other than things connected with the business.
Now stop dreaming, Arthur old boy, he chided himself. You're fifty years old, and you've got a lot of work to do today. With that, he briskly snapped on the intercom and called for Miss Jones.
"Miss Jones," he said when she entered. "I'd like you to take this to Mr. Saxby and tell him I want a detailed analysis of the market potential for the new valve in the chemical industries."
"Yes, Mr. Cunningham," Flo replied, and took the file folder he handed her.
Cunningham exhaled deeply and hoped for the best. This kind of work was really more up Norma's alley than Nick's. He hoped that for once Saxby could get his figures straight.
Inadvertently, the silver-haired industrialist had forgotten to switch off the intercom and overheard the following conversation between the young blonde secretary and his male marketing analyst: "Thanks, Flo baby," he heard Saxby say. "I'll start working on this little package after I get a couple of cups of coffee."
"You better do a good job," Flo warned him. "This is the old man's pride and joy."
"Now you're beginning to sound like Miss Peter-pussy. If there's one thing I don't need it's another female nag like her. I took care of that bitch, and I don't need a replacement."
"We all did," Flo giggled. "Do you think she'll ever show up here again?"
At that, Arthur Cunningham leaned forward and began listening intently to the eavesdropped conversation over the intercom. It was curious all right, but it only served to further confuse him about the unusually quiet atmosphere of the office in recent days.
"No," he could hear Nick Saxby saying. "I think she's got her bags packed. At least that's what I'd do if I were in her position."
"She's really got brass balls if she does show up here again."
The conversation drifted away amid shuffling of papers, and Cunningham flicked off the intercom switch. Now he was really puzzled. It sounded as though the whole office had ganged up on his favorite marketing analyst in some way or another. But what had they done to make her stay away from the office for two days, for now he realized she wasn't sick at all.
The puzzling mystery plagued him until four-thirty in the afternoon when he began going through the late inter-office mail. He sifted through the usual memos and reports that filled the wire basket on his desk until he came to an unusual unmarked white envelope sealed with Scotch tape.
The curious thing about the envelope was that there didn't seem to be a letter or note of any sort inside it, but rather a number of small hard rectangular objects stacked together.
Mystified by it, he slit open the Scotch tape, tore up the flap and removed a stack of ten color slides. Now what in the hell was this? he wondered as he glanced at them, still not connecting them in any way with Norma Peterson.
It was not until he had held each one of them up to the light and examined them carefully that he added up two and two. And when he did he practically fell off his chair. What the slides showed was practically impossible to believe they were all pictures of a tall attractive woman slumped down in the seat of a car with her legs lewdly spread apart. There were unimaginably filthy pictures of this same woman with her hands wrapped around the stiff young penis of an innocent teenage boy. It was unmistakable that this woman was seducing the boy, and it was equally unmistakable that this very woman was one of his most favored employees, Norma Peterson.
Cunningham went through the slides again and again, a strange kind of excitement pulsing through his body. The hair was a different style but the same color. The expression on the face was that of a tempting seductress, but the face sure enough belonged to Norma Peterson. My God, she'd been leading a double life all along.
Never in the world had he expected anything like this. If there had been one person he deemed beyond reproach it would have been Norma Peterson - now this evidence in front of his eyes was telling him exactly the opposite. For several moments the handsome middle-aged executive sank back in his chair and simply stared at the wall. So this was what that scoundrel Saxby had been talking to Flo Jones about! This was the reason Norma hadn't shown up at work. Someone had blackmailed her, someone who was obviously jealous of a woman rising to a high position at Cunningham Manufacturing, that shiftless Saxby!
At the same time as the slides had shaken him to the core, the industrialist found himself titillated by them, and after restraining himself for a good five minutes, held them up to the light and reviewed them again, one by one. He could barely believe that his prim and proper female executive could be so highly sexual. The expression of raw lust on her face as she grasped the young boy's cock in her hand almost made him tremble, and he felt his own penis awakening in his pants.
In fact, his hand was even shaking slightly when he picked up the receiver and began dialing her phone number, which he had got from the address book on his desk. The phone rang five times, and when the young business woman finally answered it she spoke in a voice that her boss barely recognized. It was hollow and hoarse and sounded very old.
"Norma, how are you feeling?" Cunningham asked pleasantly in a buoyant tone of voice.
"Not very well, Mr. Cunningham," came the reply. "Not very well at all."
"I hope it isn't the flu."
"No, Mr. Cunningham." Norma sighed wearily, making no effort to disguise the terribly depressed state she was in. "It's not the flu."
"Well, I think I know what it is," her boss said sympathetically in his gruff masculine voice.
"You're down in the dumps. It happens to the best of us, and there's only one way to get out of them."
"I'm - I'm afraid it's more complicated than that," Norma said slowly.
"Nonsense," Cunningham reprimanded her. "I'm going to cure you tonight. I want you to be ready for dinner at seven. We'll go to the Bellevue-Stratford."
"B-But," Norma tried to protest.
"But nothing. I'll see you at seven on the dot," he said commandingly and hung up the receiver.
True to his word, Arthur Cunningham arrived at Norma's doorstep at seven sharp and entered her apartment like a cheerful Santa Claus.
"Well, you certainly don't look very ill," he greeted her buoyantly as he eyed her ravishingly clad figure sheathed in a dark evening dress. "You know something Norma, you're a beautiful woman, you really are."
He gazed admiringly at her long flowing dark hair, her deep-set eyes and the roundly swelling mounds of her breasts beneath the low-cut top of her dress. In spite of his own forced attempt at gaiety Cunningham noted the look of wistful sadness of her eyes, and for the first time he could see her as a vulnerable cameo of feminine beauty, rather than just a pretty, efficient career-girl type. She was wonderfully beautiful tonight, he thought to himself, in spite of the images that ran through his mind from the damning photographs. He was blissfully unaware that Norma had consented to this rendezvous only to inform him of her resignation.
As her host escorted her to his car he felt alive with electric vitality. He felt like a young man again that night.
Especially when he took in the 'admiring glances of the well-heeled businessmen gathered around the tables of the Bellevue-Stratford Hotel. They began whispering among themselves as he led his ravishing escort to the best table in the house and seated her with pride.
Norma, for her part, began to feel her spirits rise in spite of herself. She had given up all hope that Nick Saxby would refrain from showing her boss the incriminating slides he had taken, and now, ironically, she hardly cared. Her career at Cunningham was finished anyway because of what had happened at his apartment, and at the moment she felt a strange freedom she had never experienced before. The worst that had happened was over, and she was free to find herself a new career where, with her brains and drive, she could succeed equally well. Moreover, she had firmly resolved to control the hateful compulsion that had led her to expose her panties to young unsuspecting boys. She had finally seen the sordid results of that obsession once it had been discovered by someone else, and she never wanted to live through the harrowing experiences of the past few days again.
The meal progressed like a regal feast. Arthur Cunningham ordered the most expensive and exotic dishes on the menu, commanded the best wines, and pronounced their names with a perfect French accent. He was truly a man who knew how to handle himself, and her admiration for him grew by leaps and bounds.
By the time coffee and cognac came around for the last course, Norma could feel herself growing mellow, though still haunted by the shame of what had happened during the weekend. Her boss, sensing her deeply troubled mood, reached across the table and touched her hand.
"I hope you've enjoyed this tonight, Norma," Cunningham said. "I know I certainly have. I haven't enjoyed myself as much in years."
"I have, Mr. Cunningham, I really have," Norma smiled back quietly.
"Call me Arthur, Norma." His hand squeezed tightly around hers, and as it did so, she could feel herself slipping into a dream world, a pleasant dream world for a change. Mr. Cunningham had been almost like a father to her.
After they had finished their coffee she gracefully accepted his invitation to go back to his house in the exclusive area of Chestnut Hill.
It was an old house solidly built from stone and with a kind of baronial elegance inside. The huge living room was covered with rich oriental rugs; a crystal chandelier hung suspended from the ceiling; and at each end of the vast room stood two huge fireplaces, faced by large antique velvet couches.
Cunningham took his young employee's wrap, hung it up in a closet and returned to offer her a brandy. As she sipped it, he removed his suitcoat, stacked the fireplace with wood chips and thick dry logs, and in a moment had started a roaring fire. Then he settled comfortably into a couch and waved Norma over beside him.
"You know, it's been a long time since I've been out with a charming woman like you. I've kept pretty much to myself since my wife died, but I think I've been mourning long enough. I'd like to do this more often, Norma."
"I - I'm afraid I can't, Arthur. It just wouldn't be right," Norma said shyly.
The middle-aged industrialist gazed at her curiously and smiled.
"Of course, it's right, I know it is."
Norma looked straight ahead into the fireplace, watching the hypnotic shapes of the flames as soft tears began to well in her eyes.
"I'm afraid you don't know certain things about me," she said painfully, feeling a deep ache inside.
"Nonsense, Norma," Cunningham interrupted in his business-like way. He reached into his suitcoat on the couch beside him and withdrew the plain white envelope, flashing it before her eyes.
"I know more than you think I know thanks to a certain third party who deserves to be shot."
Norma gasped in surprise and sat forward on the edge of the couch. The horrible uneasiness she had always experienced with Saxby before suddenly returned to her. She realized in a flash that the incriminating slides were inside the envelope and thought she could not bear to hear him go on.
"Please," she pleaded. "Don't say it."
"I'm not going to say anything at all Norma. You have nothing to worry about," he reassured her, and with a regal gesture he flung the envelope into the raging fireplace.
Norma rose to her feet as though she could hardly believe what was happening, and tears of relief streamed to her eyes. Arthur Cunningham approached her and wrapped his arms around her, drawing her nubile young body close to his.
"The only thing you need," he said, "is a real man to take care of you. Shall we?" he nodded toward the stairway leading to his second floor bedroom, but Norma's body froze in his arms.
"I'd ... I'd love to, Arthur, but I just can't..."
"In other words, you're trying to tell me you can't be satisfied with a man, is that it?" he asked sympathetically.
Norma was on the verge of tears now, the terrible nightmare of what had happened at Saxby's apartment flashing through her mind. God, how she wanted to clear her mind, to tell her boss all about the terrible compulsion that had ruled her and ruined her. It didn't matter now, for she knew she could not work for him any longer. She would have to resign in disgrace no matter what happened.
"I don't know, Arthur. I've tried it, believe me. I was engaged once to a very nice young man . . . it . . . it just wasn't exciting at all."
"And do you think all men are like that, Norma?"
Her hate for the male sex, for the things that little boys had done to her in the past, for the way that men like Nick Saxby had humiliated her, welled up so strongly inside her soul that she couldn't contain it any longer.
"Men are nothing," she hissed at him with sudden violence, watching his face grow red with anger.
"Little boys are better, is that what you're telling me? You mean you can only get your kicks exposing your panties to little boys ...?"
"Yes! Yes!" Norma screamed hysterically. "They're mine, I can control them and tease them! They're in my power."
As he stood in front of the hysterically shouting young woman, Arthur Cunningham was struck with a sudden revelation. He realized now that Norma Peterson would never respond to gentle treatment from a male, that her mind was geared to being crudely and physically dominated by them, though she would protest this bitterly.
He realized that in her adventures with young boys - as evidenced by the slides he had seen - she was daring them to rebel against her power, to dominate her by suddenly ripping her panties away. It was the forbidden expression of untamed male lust, and only this, which unlocked the real secret of her loins.
And realizing this, Cunningham suddenly slapped her in the face. He was going to cure her sickness once and for all. Tonight he was going to give her all the crude violent lust that she needed; he was going to break that deep-rooted cycle. Deep inside him he felt an intense attraction to this strange, confused woman. What he was going to do now was only an act, but it was going to be the most convincing role he'd ever played.
Norma reeled back, her hand protectively guarding her burning cheek, her head spinning with disbelief.
"N-No," her voice quavered as her boss moved resolutely toward her. "N-No, not you too!"
"You're getting a man this time, Norma, a real man, not just some little boy."
Fiercely, he seized her wrist and yanked her violently protesting body toward the stairway. He struggled mightily with her, dragging her up the stairs, until, once inside the bedroom, he hurled her down on the mattress and tore her dress away from her body.
"Oh God, Arthur, please don't do this!" she whimpered. But her words were blotted out by the sudden clamping of his mouth over hers as Cunningham's body fell heavily on top of her struggling frame.
As the night drew on her moans of protest yielded to plaintive sobs and finally to deep gasps of carnal pleasure.
* * *
The following morning Nick Saxby arrived fifteen minutes late for work as usual. To his surprise, however, Arthur Cunningham was not yet in his office, which was unsual. To his further surprise, at ten o'clock in the morning he watched Cunningham and Norma Petersen walk up the stairs at the same time, practically arm in arm.
He had never seen his rival so radiant before. Laughing, smiling, she exchanged jokes with the boss and instead of entering her cubicle, immediately followed him to his office.
The scene was too unbelievable to be true and, possessed by curiosity Saxby crept to the locked door at the president's office, intent on eavesdropping regardless of how obvious it would appear to anyone else. When he put his ear against the door he could hear gales of laughter from inside.
"Norma," he could hear Cunningham say, "I feel happier now than I've been in a long time."
"Oh Arthur, you've taught me a lesson, all right." Saxby's female rival replied. "And the breakfast was so delicious."
"Of course, my dear," the patriarch added. "Only the best for my new vice-president."
The shock of those words hit Nick like a fist in the stomach. Numbed, he crept back to his office, stared into space in dumb silence, and finally began writing his letter of resignation in long hand. In spite of his clever and carefully carried out plan, he had failed. He had been beaten by a woman, and one hell of a woman at that.
"So it goes," he sighed to himself as he signed his name at the end of the terse little note.
