The Reluctant Representative

“You realize,” he said, “Anna, it isn’t cheating if your husband doesn’t find out.”

 

 

© Copyright 2016/19/21

 

NOTE: This work contains material not suitable for anyone under eighteen (18) or those of a delicate nature. This is a story and contains descriptive scenes of a graphic sexual nature. This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, whether living, deceased, actual events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

 

Prolog

 

You’ve crossed into Millie’s Vast Expanse — a land of seductions filled with tender, loving ecstasy or affairs of brute force where plunder and murder walk hand in hand. A place where wrongs are perpetrated with relish and revenge is extracted in a primeval frenzy.

The Expanse is as broad as your imagination and as deep as your lust. Filled with adultery, fornication, brutal betrayal, and occasionally tender mercies. In one long stretch of the Expanse is a particular place and time where misogynistic bosses use coercion and fear or seduction and inducement to have their way with their female employees.

He’s an aggressive man who got to the top with cunning and stealth. He hunted and trapped his prey in such a cunning way they become willing participants in their abuse. He enjoys his female employees as playthings, taking from them what he wants, giving them in return only what he must. Afterward, he abandons them to their ordinary, mundane, mind-numbing existence. It is the 1980’s, in a place called America, greed is good, but a controlling influence is better. Cruising at 30,000 feet, your descent begins into Millie’s Vast Expanse. Buckle up — it’s going to be a turbulent journey.

 

The Remembrance of the Reluctant Representative

 

“The hair — They say the hair is everything, you know. Have you ever buried your nose in a mountain of curls… and just wanted to go to sleep forever? Or lips — and when they touched, yours were like… that first swallow of wine… after you just crossed the desert. Tits! Whoo–ah! Big ones, little ones, nipples staring right out at ya… Like secret searchlights. Mmm. And legs — I don’t care if they’re Greek columns… or secondhand Steinways. What’s between ’em — passport to heaven.” Lt. Col. Frank Slade: Scent of a Woman (1992)

 

****

 

Years have passed since those wonderful hours of my indiscretion. Still, the memories haunt me of my cruel betrayal of our wedding vows. The shame burns inside after all those years. And yet, such a sweet memory of precious, stolen moments often invades my thoughts, and I become cloaked in a haunting, sentimental desire to replicate the wonderful experience.

Often, I become melancholy, with a fierce longing, gnawing at my mind, to recreate those adrenaline-charged hours of erogenous ecstasy. I can only regain my equilibrium by indulging myself with a conscious, waking dream of the whole exhilarating affair and self-gratification until the cravings subside.

Afterward, in rough waves, an exact mirror image of the ecstasy as my guilt and the shame flood over my soul. Carrying my responsibility, my betrayal of my dear, sweet husband hurts me — I hunger so to confess to him and beg for forgiveness, but I keep these things to myself. For I alone fell from grace, therefore, only I should bear the pain.

Seeing the report in the paper brings the recollections flooding back to me in a brilliant, blinding flash. I remember the odor of his drink sitting on the tray as the plane started descending. He winked at me, drank down the liquid in a single swallow, and handed the stewardess his empty glass. Thurgood turned and gazed at me. His blue eyes were so brilliant and kind with a mischievous twinkle.

“Don’t be nervous, Anna, we will be on the ground in a minute,” taking my hand, he held onto me, smiling at me as the knot in my stomach grew tighter. I hated flying, but his mighty hand calmed me, at least somewhat.

“I have such plans for you during our free time. I intend for us to celebrate our terrific year at this convention. You realize you are one of my most successful sales reps this year.”

With a tender strength, Thurgood squeezed my hand. His calming deep melodic voice kept reassuring me about our safety as he continued to compliment me on my work. Out of the blue, he said something which caught me off guard.

“I must confess, you are quite beautiful, my dear. I have always had a soft spot for redheads. And you, my dear Anna, you are,” he paused, searching for the word, “stunning.” I was confused by his compliment. After all, my married boss made a comment on my appearance. Above all, I couldn’t understand this, for I am also married. Blushing, I cast my eyes downward.

“Now, now, no show of modesty, my dear.” His hand touched my chin, with a tender persuasion, he lifted my face. “What lovely eyes,” he said, his commanding voice was all concentrated on, “such a dark shade of green, deep — drawing me into them … I may well lose my way in your beautiful eyes. I’m certain your husband is quite happy with you.”

He leaned toward me. In the first place, I wanted to turn away, should’ve turned away — I didn’t, and his lips met my own, our soft, hot lips pressed together. To my shame, I not only let him kiss me, but I also returned the kiss, and a white-hot, burning passion flashed between our mouths. God, what was I doing? A hard jolt jarred me, and I bounced in my seat as the wheels hit the runway. We broke apart, and he turned away from me, staring forward.

“Being forthright, the pleasure was mine, to kiss such a lovely woman as you,” he turned back to me. “I took your mind off our landing, didn’t I, Anna Marie?” he broke into a bright smile. I realized he was only playing with me to keep me from worrying. At least, I thought he meant to take my mind off the landing. His attention couldn’t be my form or face; I hated my appearance, freckles on a grown woman.

To begin with, I’m plump and plain. No, my boss would never be interested in a woman like me. With his wife a picture of perfection — what do they call them, a trophy wife. Despite understanding, he wasn’t sincere, I blushed a ruby red.

“Thanks, you had me going for a minute,” I said, relieved and still somewhat disappointed he didn’t mean what he said.

“I’m earnest,” he said, seeing my disbelief or perhaps sensing.

Despite his insistence, I didn’t believe him. He couldn’t be telling the truth, not about anything concerning me. I had no right to do anything with him, and after all, I couldn’t do anything with him as I was happily married. The airport was scary to me with all those people rushing around us. When we boarded the shuttle bus, we found space inside crowded.

The bus was short of overcrowded, still, tight quarters. With me sitting next to Thurgood and a black man sitting on the other side of me, we were pressed together. Soon, someone sat next to him, and another person sat next to Thurgood, rammed tight against each other. When the bus lurched forward, at last, Thurgood leaned down to my ear, whispering.

“The black man has got excited being so close to you. Check out his massive pecker straining against his jeans.” I glanced at his lap. No one had to guess how enormous the thing was. The monster showed through the material, the considerable member’s outline plainly visible. A long thick stick of man meat only covered by the old worn jeans. I realized he wasn’t excited by me, for the man paid no attention to me. As if a raging hard-on were his normal state, the man stared ahead, oblivious to anyone on the bus.

“Have you ever fucked a black?” his hushed voice purred in my ear. Lower still, he said, “have you dear, have you fucked a fat cocked buck — NIGGER?” the harsh word burned my ears. With a sour expression, I shook my head and forced myself to cast my eyes away from the man’s crotch.

“Would you like to?”

For a second time, I shook my head.

“Are you sure?”

With strange emotions rushing over me, I sat in intense discomfort.

“I would ask him if you wished me to, but I’d rather keep you all to myself,” he said.

When we got off the bus, he stopped the black man and talked to him in a soft voice. The man smiled as he glanced at me, touched his hand to his ball cap, and walked away. I wanted to ask what he told the man but didn’t dare. I discovered a strange side to my boss I had never seen before, and his behavior, his words, made me — ever so — nervous.

After we had checked into the hotel, afterward, off to registration, followed by drinks with executives of a company I sell our product to in significant quantities. The senior foreign managers were quite excited about a new line of a product about to be released.

After more meetings, we set up our station to show off our wares to the many companies attending the convention. I won’t bore you with details about our goods or how our, show and tell, went. We would be here three full days and two nights. I wanted nothing more out of this business, away from the convention. I hated sales, I always have, but sales is all I’ve done.

When at last we were able to leave, all I wanted was to go back to the hotel, take a bath, and go to bed. Thurgood had other plans — we went to a swanky restaurant. He ordered my meal for me, salad, lobster, wine and a dessert. He had me sit beside him in a small booth at the back. We carried on a polite, forced conversation throughout dinner.

At the time, I was in my mid-thirties, while he was over sixty, and I assumed I had nothing in common with him. After the last bite of the meal was finished, he pulled a cigar out of his inside coat pocket and announced, “You don’t mind,” he said as he lit the stogie. In point of fact, I did mind but kept my mouth shut.

We continued our meaningless conversation for a minute or two while the disgusting blue smoke hung thick in the air. I began to cough and Thurgood, unwillingly, snubbed out his smoke. Putting his arm around me, my boss drew me nearer to him as gooseflesh rose over my body.

In control of me, he moved his mouth down to my ear, and his deep voice provoked an agitation inside me. The anxiety was far from unpleasant as he whispered adorations to my beauty and grace. His warm breath moved over my ear sending shudders down my spine as his mighty hand massaged my arm. I offered a mild protest, which he ignored as he told me how much he had wanted me.

Turning bright red as my heart began to beat like some bass drum pounding out a rhythm. The blood rushing through my veins. Thurgood told me how he’d counted the days for this trip and how he had planned this night for my pleasure.

With some amount of faked resentment, I kept disputing his claims of my beauty and rebutting his advances. However timid my protest was presented, I was earnest in all I told him. I thought if we continued, guilt would consume, the same would eat me alive, and yet, I wanted him, oh, so, desperately at the moment.

He kissed me and fondled my body tenderly yet firmly. Thurgood’s tongue darted around my ear, and he nibbled on my neck. Our flirtatious attention to one another went on for at least thirty minutes. My resistance faded after four or five minutes. After all, he was an attractive man. He was ever the gentleman and possessed a natural magnetism.

While in his sixties, he was still a vibrant man, I tried to resist. I made an honest effort to shun his attentions. When our mouths touched, a tingling shot between our mouths and this electric exhilaration flooded my entire being. After a few moments of clutching and kissing, his tongue invaded my mouth. The flavor of the bourbon and wine he’d consumed lingered on my tongue and in my mouth. In a strange way, his kiss intoxicated me, having nothing to do with wine or bourbon. I gathered all my strength and broke our embrace.

Falling against his massive chest, I began to cry, “We can’t do this.” My tears ran down my face, falling to his suit coat. He pushed me away and drank from his glass.

“Fine, suit yourself,” he said. Setting the glass down, “You realize, don’t you, your review is coming up soon. A shame if this night makes issues, you understand I would hate if I find a necessity to give you a poor rating. I think an inadequate assessment might contribute to some negative results for you,” He threatened me.

This threat was not some veiled menace. This was an overt, direct promise. “I believe you have a bright future with this company. The only one who can fuck up your future,” Thurgood stopped and glared at me, grunted out, “is you.”

I don’t think I Thurgood spoke an unkind word to me until his threat in the dim light of the room’s lamp. For a fact, he had never used such vulgar language around me. I sipped my wine, sitting in my seat in silence as Thurgood finished his drink. He pulled some bills from his pocket and threw them down on the table.

“Let’s go, Anna Marie. I’m not spending a dime more on you. You know what, you’re ungrateful.” I started to speak, he snapped at me. “Best to keep your mouth shut!” Picking up the check and his cigar, he lit the foul thing. In the cab all the way back to the hotel, he glared at me. He blew the noxious smoke at me. I coughed, asking for him to please stop smoking.

“No,” was all he said. We rode the elevator together in total silence. I shut my door and dropped face down on the bed, crying. I continued this for several minutes and wondered what, oh, God, what he was doing? With only the adjoining door separating us, my mind thought about him. Soon I sank into a hot bath to contemplate my future.

The tub was a giant whirlpool, and the water jets massaged my body. The tension had become unbearable between Thurgood and me. The warm water swishing around my tense body relaxed me and carried me away to happier thoughts. I daydreamed about Thurgood and our kisses. Closing my eyes, my mind drifted to the black man’s crotch and his thick prick underneath those impossibly tight jeans.

“Well, don’t you look comfy,” his voice intruded on my thoughts. Jerking up, my hands instinctively covered my breast. “Room for me, my, lovely?”

“Certainly not,” I glanced at him, my horror showing. “Now, get out of here.”

“No, your future is in my hands, and I refuse to let you throw your carrier away,” he said in a firm, matter-of-fact voice.

“Please, sir, leave,” I said, my voice faltered. I tried to be demanding.

“No,” he was dressed only in a robe, which he dropped to the floor. I was shocked at the size of Thurgood’s still, limp cock. Foreskin hung over the head, concealing it. “Make room for me, Anna.” He stepped in and sat next to me, putting his arm around my shoulder, pulled me back to him as we sank into the tub, holding me in a tender embrace.

“Sir, this is so wrong,” I said. Speaking in a hushed voice filled with trembling and fear. Shame burst inside me, this horrid sick disgust for not being more assertive. Self-loathing overwhelmed me, for I allowed him to touch me. Nonetheless, I did let him, and my protest, at best, was half-hearted. I wanted to jump out and run — I didn’t. I lay against him, enjoying the sensation of his body pressing against mine.

“Ssshhh, we’re doing nothing wrong,” he pulled me to him more tightly. His other hand moved my hands away from my breast. He moved his hands over my chest. “Mmm, exquisite,” he spoke with his lips pressed to my ear. “I have always found you so attractive,” he said, speaking in this soft purr as he kissed my ear. Dear God, how I hated myself, still, I sat motionless, allowing him.

“Be reasonable, my dear, you have no reason to fight this, no reason to worry about your husband or my wife. This between us, not them, and after all, your future depends on me.” I had only made love to one person in my life, my husband. To be clear, I was anxious about this situation. Doubting, uncertain if I were able to commit adultery.

I sensed this passion building inside me, heaping up like the water in shallows before the tidal wave, threatening to overcome my better judgment. I glanced back over my shoulder at Thurgood’s face, and he gazed at me with this romantic adulation as though I was the center of the universe. For the time being, I believed his compliments, caught up in his attentions as though I were the only woman in his world.

His hands went between my legs, and he explored. I can’t say he poked or prodded. No, his was more a careful investigation, of a more tender type than my husband had ever done. A soft nudging of his thumb over my clit coaxed the nub from the protective shroud of flesh. Shivers ran through me as I moistened. This explosive flash of heat spread.

My protest melted away as his will became my own. A hungry yearning swept over me in a massive wave. Once more, our mouths met, and this time my tongue explored his mouth. The flavor was a minty freshness, with a light side of bourbon. The grooming he’d performed made apparent he had planned for our encounter.

In all honesty, while I couldn’t afford to lose my job — I wanted this. In the end, his threat only provided my excuse. My heart pounded as emotions flooded up inside me. Our kiss lasted forever, soft, wet, and sweet. After all this, Thurgood washed me. My whole body, hair, breast, arms, legs, back, and my pussy. I felt like a Queen being attended to by a caring servant.

When at last we left the tub, he dried my body as he told me how hot I was. I need to be honest; I was plump — at the least, overweight. I have always been self-conscious about my weight, over-curvy proportions, bright red hair, freckles, and oversized breasts. Yes, fat breast for a cup size of double H makes them fat, not attractive.

If any of this mattered, if Thurgood realized these things, I was at a loss tell. The way he spoke to me, treated me, made me feel as if I was some superstar actress; all this thrilled me. He dabbled off the moisture from my body, using the towel in a stimulating seduction of my flesh. The gooseflesh had new bumps join the party, and the warm sensation spread. The warmth kindled the fires of passion.

Holding me in his strong arms, we pressed our lips together again, in a deep, passionate kiss. Thurgood effortlessly picked me up and carried me to the bed. He lay me down, stretching my legs only a slight amount, sitting next to me. He wasn’t up near my head, his lips pressed to my belly button, Thurgood shifted his position.

Both hands roamed over my body. Beginning at my breast, my lover caressed me over my belly, further down, passing over my hairy pussy. His hand worked down my legs, massaging them with firm tenderness. His intense, tender touch melted away the tensions of the trip, the day at the convention center, and the awkward meal. He rolled me over and worked on my back. My inhibition melted, my guilt and shame fled, freeing me to enjoy this carnal banquet.

I think I was more relaxed than I had been in years. Thurgood’s strong hands rubbed and kneaded my flesh and muscles as my inhibitions melted to his touch. I can’t possibly tell you how this influenced me. Perhaps women will understand this, but surely most men will not. This stopped being physical and turned — spiritual. With reverence, I believed we belonged together, at least at the moment. All the time, Thurgood worked on me, cocooning me in compliments about my beauty, my intellect, how gracefully I moved.

With a practiced art of seduction, he wrapped me up in this loving, sensual, moment revealing my own cravings. He kissed one of my butt cheeks and lightly bit me. Teeth tested my flesh. He nibbled around on both buns, kissing, licking me, feasting on flesh in an animalist show of his hunger. Thurgood rolled me over on my back.