These Elevators Suck
She was the very model of a modern major affair waiting to happen. She looked to be about 5’8”, but the heels put her about an inch taller than me, and I’m 6’0”. Her calves were rock hard, from either running or maybe tennis, I guessed. Red pedicure visible through the high-heeled sandals. Black sleeveless outfit, nice arms, fit. Long blonde hair, blue eyes, gorgeous face. Where the fuck had this woman been up until now? I’d never seen her, and now she’s waiting for an elevator on my elevator bank. My office has been in this building for 10 years. This woman looks to be about 30; I’d definitely have noticed her before.
I was so damn distracted by her that I almost forgot the new elevator protocol in thebuilding. Your whole life, you learn to walk onto an elevator, you press the button for theyour floor, and it takes you there. Some schmuck had to reinvent that. A touch-screen outside the elevators. Press the floor you’re going to, and it will tell you which numbered elevator you should get on. No buttons on the inside. Can’t add a floor once the doors close. Couldn’t change your mind. Had to go where the buttons had been pressed back on the floor where you got on. My office being on the top floor, I had to deal with people fumbling with the system and creating extra stops out of confusion all the way up and all the way down. That turned out to be a very lucky thing for me that day.
The door to Elevator 4 opened, and she and I both got on. My eye caught the little screen, inset next to the elevator door, identifying the floors that had been pressed. Just mine. Was she coming to see someone in my office? If so, one of my colleagues was one lucky fucker. Damn, she’s fucking hot. Not much jewelry. Gym bag slung over one shoulder, expensive looking handbag dangling from the other. The doors closed, we started up, and she looked back and forth at either side of the door. Bingo! Lost building visitor, she hadn’t pressed any button.
“Looks like you’re a visitor and whomever you’re here to see didn’t warn you about our new and improved elevator system. Please let me help you, what floor do you need?”
“Thanks, yeah, um, what the f, um sorry, … I’ve never been in an elevator without buttons. Thanks, I was going to the 4th floor.”
Did she almost say “What the fuck”? Hot. Love a woman who will say the word “fuck”. My wife never will. Won’t say it, won’t do it.
“There was a touch-screen in the lobby, new system, you press your floor first, then get on. I know, it goes against an entire life’s experience of how elevators work. Everyone in the building hates them. These elevators suck.”
She looked at her watch, looked concerned she was going to be late. “Sure as fuck do suck. Shit, sorry. I have an appointment, like, now, on the 4th floor. Thanks for helping. I’m … It’s just a week when I didn’t need another glitch. You ever have those?” She turned to me as she asked that last question, eye to eye, now making a personal connection, not disembodied elevator conversation without eye contact. She was absolutely beautiful. I wanted to marry her. After all, she said the word, “fuck”, which my wife never would. Oh, right, my wife. Fuck. So much for marrying this knockout.
“You’ll have to wait until we get to my floor, all the way up, and then I can show you how the buttons work. We’re on a different elevator bank, too; they re-designed the signs to show which floors were on which elevator bank. Everything about the elevators sucks. Sorry it’s making a bad week worse. Yes, I’ve had those weeks. I’ll get you where you’re going. Maybe your week will get better. Who are you going to see down on 4, if you don’t mind my asking? Fennel & Cragen?”
I’d named a law firm. I knew one of the partners, Marisa Cragen. Looked like a dead ringer for Megyn Kelly of Fox News. Oh, to fuck Marisa Cragen. And somewhere in my mind, the image of Marisa and this woman in my elevator together….Okay, stop, just be polite and help the sexy lady get where she’s going. My good deed for the day, right?
“Nope. Herndon Planners. Do you know them?”
Did I know them? The most over-priced, over-blown, under-performing money management firm I’d ever encountered. Founded by folks who were three generations into the right country club and politically well connected, so they always got clients, and maintained their un-deserved reputation. Sort of like how Sears and JC Penney were still household names decades after they’d outlived their usefulness, and some people still shopped there--folks who didn’t know any better. I’m in the same business, CartrightFinancial. Some of my best clients switched from Herndon. “Interviewing with them?” I asked.
She smiled. Great smile. “In a way, I was referred to them by my divorce lawyer, to set up things now that my settlement is resolved and the case is final. Oh, I’m Dolly.” She extended her hand. As the door opened in front of the entrance for Cartright Financial,we stepped out. As we shook hands, I said, “Lee. Lee Cartright.” I saw her eyes dart to the office and back to me. “Oh, as in, this is your firm, you’re in financial services, too?” Now we were both smiling. Me because it was so great to start the day with such a sexy dream girl who I was pretty sure I’d be fantasizing about fucking all day. And Dolly because…I wasn’t quite sure. I’ve gotta be 15 years older than she is, I’ve got a wedding ring on, and I’m 15 pounds overweight. Okay, 20.
“You got it. So here, Dolly, let me be a gentleman and help you get downstairs, to the right elevator, and go see my competitors. I’ll see you again in two to three years. That’s about how long it takes my clients who switch from Herndon to get frustrated and make the switch. Lots of them, like you, divorced women making new starts and getting away from the ex-husband’s planner who is loyal to him. C’mon now, you didn’t want to be late. It was stressing you out and making you cuss. That’s no way for a beautiful woman to start her day. I’ll show you ….”
Okay, I got my pitch in. I started to release her hand and reach for the elevator keypad on my floor to press “Lobby” when she held on to my hand and tugged me back toward her. Now it was my turn to think about saying, “What the f___?”
“I didn’t really want to see them. It’s just that all these people I’m supposed to listen to told me to. But a woman in my running club told me they didn’t respect her, over-charged her, didn’t listen to what she was trying to tell them, and seemed to follow a script for everything. She told me about another firm, but I didn’t call them. Of course, I didn’t know that other firm was in the same building as Herndon. Or on the top floor.”
Hey, now this day was turning out to be great! Money to invest, legs to die for,gorgeous… Well, hello, Dolly!
I released her hand. Now I knew she was a runner. I had a client who was a runner. “Cheryl ?” Big Dolly smile. Definitely needed to have face-to-face meetings with her if she signed on. No use wasting that face, that smile, that body, those legs, on a phone call with no visuals. “Yes, Cheryl and I run together, we’ve done some 10K’s, and she was my mentor when I needed a referral for a divorce lawyer.”
Cheryl had divorced a commercial real estate developer. He’d lost much, but not all, of his fortune in the crash. Cheryl was smart and, through her own means, had kept her cash flow alive in the marriage. But Mr. Developer worked so hard that he forgot to take care of his gorgeous wife. She, lonely and feeling unattractive--which she certainly wasn’t--took up running, toned up, and eventually got noticed by a dentist in the running club. Cheryl was a former Herndon client. Her dentist-running partner, now her husband, was my client. I guess that relationship formed by seeing my dentist every three months instead of six months had paid off. And I’d just been trying to get healthier gums.
“As it happens, Dolly, I don’t have any appointments until 11. Would you like to come in and get acquainted? You can call Herndon from my office.” Oh how delicious that would be, to have them see my firm name on the caller ID. And, oh, how delicious to have Dolly walk those legs into my office.
She had a bottled water with her, and I grabbed a Coke Zero on my way into my office. I invited her to sit on the sofa, and I sat on the arm chair perpendicular to the sofa, so we could face each other and talk, in a relaxed atmosphere, not at a desk, all business-like. And a desk would block those legs. Those runner’s legs. Bet she’s shaved, smooth down there….Christ, Lee, knock it off! And I was getting hard. So much for being middle aged and fat cutting down on my ability to get one up, not now it isn’t? Guess it all comes down to the motivation: Dolly, who says the word, “fuck”.
Oh I got a great look at Dolly’s legs when she sat and crossed them and when she removed the gym bag and purse from her shoulders and relaxed her arms. For the first time, I noticed her nice cleavage display, not so low as to be obvious, but sexy and sophisticated, and she leaned forward in conversation so that I got a better view than the elevator could have provided. Trim tummy too.
Dolly explained her settlement, but I needed to show that I cared about her. That wasn’t going to be difficult. Doing so without sounding like I was a creepy middle-aged married guy fantasizing about fucking her, that was going to be the tough part. And in my mind, I’d just emptied myself into her doggy style propped up against the desk, with her leaning over and peering over her shoulder, looking in my eyes while I did her.
“Dolly, tell me a little about your circumstances before your divorce, so I can know more about your experience…uh, as an investor, get a sense of what you have done, um, before and what you’re used to.” Is it just me, or instead of simply asking her investing and money management history, if she had one, did I ask her in a vague way what she liked to do sexually?
“My soon-to-be ex-husband made the money. He’s a cardio-thoracic surgeon, and a good one. He made plenty of money. His accountant, his practice’s accountant actually, paid the bills and recommended investments, and the accounts were in his name. We had a nice big boring house in the suburbs, in a gated community, and he expected me to stay at home. I was bored as hell and took up running to keep myself fit for him.”
“That all would sound nice to a lot of people, but real life has more complications,” I started, “so I’m sorry the story that sounds like it starts nicely didn’t end up being happily ever after. My staff and I help make sure you stay informed and empowered along with being advised.” I said “you”, not “our clients”, to create the image of her already being a client.
“So Cheryl said. She was also helpful when I realized I needed a divorce, like I said earlier. She could relate--her husband wouldn’t fuck her, either.”
Holy shit! Maybe Dolly was going to be too much for me!
“Sorry, that seems to have shook you up.” She’d seen me flinch at her last remark.
“Please, tell it like you mean it. Very hot the way you say it, thank you for bringing excitement to my world of portfolio management and risk aversion.”
Another Dolly smile.
“I usually don’t cuss. This has just been …, well, this has all been the fresh start I wanted, and the next thing I’m doing, after moving the accounts and getting a place in-town, is getting back to work, at least part time.”
“Actually, I’m getting four years of alimony, which is great on an 8-year marriage. No kids, no sex. I think he’s gay, but the P.I. didn’t find him doing anything along those lines, either. Married to his work, I guess.”
What a douchebag. Some guy was married to this babe--fit, smart, horny--and he wasn’t fucking her. I’m not getting laid, either, I thought, but hardly by choice. I just think somewhere after our second child was born, my charming wife, Miss Missionary Only, lost what scant interest she had in sex. And strip club visits really just left me needing to jerk off during the shower that I needed to take in order to get the smell of smoke out of my hair after going to those places.
Our conversation moved on to some of the mechanics of actual financial planning; that we were fee-based, not commission-based. She said she knew already that she wanted to retain me to work up an initial proposal. When Dolly asked me when I could have it ready, I wondered if she’d caught my eyes on her tits and legs or if I’d been subtle enough. Getting back to the business part of this meeting with a sexy angel, I told her that I would not be able to get her anything that week because the part-time associate I relied on most for such projects had just resigned and moved out of state when her husband finished law school and accepted a position with a firm in his home city. Her eyes lit up.
“My degree was in accounting, with a minor concentration in finance. So how much experience do you need to fill that position? I don’t have as much legal, er, formal business experience as I should since I stayed home those years, but I’m dying to make up for that—and part-time to start would be great to get back into the workforce while I’m receiving alimony.”
Okay, now my imagination has fully run off the reservation. I’m hallucinating that Dolly is making the sexual double entendres when really she’s asking for a job. And like, what, I’m going to say no? A go-getter who cusses, so she’d be fun to work with; has the right degree; married eight years, so she’s not a kid; been through a divorce, so she can relate to the clients…would I ever be able to concentrate again?
“Dolly, I think that’s a great idea, but we’re up against my 11 o’clock.” I stood, so did she. I fought the urge to take her in my arms. I shifted my hips to try to hide my stiffieand felt a smear of pre-cum on the inside of my boxers. I hadn’t been laid in eight months.
“Email a resume, if you have one, to my office manager, or better yet, why don’t you give me your email address on the back of one of my cards. We’ll send you some new client paperwork, as well as the required legal stuff, by email, and include the applicant paperwork as well.”
“Great!” She was even sexier when excited. I didn’t see “excited” in my office much. “Lee, thank you, I’m glad you were a gentleman and offered to help with the sucky elevators. This has been a great morning.” And with that, Dolly stepped forward, hugged me, pressing her firm breasts into my chest, allowing me to inhale the seductive aroma of some expensive scent she wore whose name I was sure I wouldn’t recognize. I tried to pull my hips back, but too late. She pressed forward enough that my engorged dick brushed against her. What could I do? I patted her around the back, safe places only, to return the hug. Loved the feel of her toned back muscles. Then I got a kiss on the cheek! As Dolly quickly grabbed two cards, one to keep and one to write on, I watched her bend over to write. Oh my God, she was turning me on; this was such a great morning and such a bad idea. She handed me her card and turned to head for the door, “I remember the way. I’ll see myself out. Get ready for your 11. I’ll talk to you soon.”
She’d put her cell number on the back of the card along with her email address.
Dolly hurried out of the office, excited and forgetting, for the moment, her gym bag. I started to go to my desk, saw the bag, and had just lifted it up when Dolly stuck her head back in my office, looking terror stricken. “Oh God, thanks. Please don’t open that. I realized I didn’t have it .…”
I just smiled, and wondered why anyone would be so embarrassed about having left a gym bag of sweaty clothes and stinky running shoes behind. Open it? Why would I do that? I knew who it belonged to and had contact information. It wasn’t anonymous lost luggage. Hey, the sexy lady has had a stressful day. “Not to worry Dolly. I knew you’d be back, was just going to hold it for you at the front desk, but its all yours. Your dirty laundry is safe and sound,” I said, trying to calm this sexy lady with my humor and charm. She smiled, exhaled, stepped up, and took the bag, our hands touching briefly and excitingly. Then she shocked the shit out of me and my erection by placing a hand on my hip and leaning forward to plant a light kiss on my lips. Serious WTF moment! “Thanks for keeping my dirty laundry hidden!” And she was gone. Wow! She had to have seen my wedding ring. And my gut. Whatever! Usually, I had to pay a stripper with a hundred dollar bill to have her be flirty enough to make me feel this excited and alive. And I’d gotten a new account and it looked like a new employee, too, in the bargain.
Dolly was so damned relieved in the elevator. Her early morning appointment had involved a somewhat frequent “sexy chick from the gym fucks me after working out” fantasy. She not only had sweaty running clothes (she went and ran 5K beforehand, essentially getting paid by her first date of the day to work out), she also had her condoms, sexual lubricant, vibrator, some wipes and hygiene products, and a ten crisp hundred dollar bills in an unmarked envelope in that bag. Working for me part time would be perfect: flexible hours to allow her to continue her dates with generous gentlemen and give her legitimate income in addition to alimony. She could put to work the business accounting skills she’d developed as an exclusive companion in doing some financial planning. And I seemed to her as if I’d let her get away with murder in terms oftime or days away from the office. She thought I was cute, honestly, like a lot of her clients. That line about it being exciting to hear a woman cuss – hmmmm, she had me pegged as another one who gets turned on by dirty talk. Which I do. She figured she could help me out in that department.
Of course, I didn’t know any of that at the time. But I never saw it coming, did I?
Dolly took about a week in which she got set up in a rental condo, got new accounts opened, re-registered her BMW, swapped emails and documents with me, and had two phone calls with me about the job. Perfect, she said. She was delighted, when I told her that once she and I were comfortable, that she had the hang of it, about half of her work was stuff she was free to do outside the office and send the reports electronically. I made a joke about her working from home while waiting for the cable guy. She was thinking more like doing a financial plan on her laptop in between dates. I had absolutely no idea.
And Dolly was great as an associate from Day One. She looked impeccable, like I’d seen her in the elevator, that sucky elevator. Sexy, but not inappropriate. Attractive, but not intimidating. Clearly someone who was fit and worked out, so I and everyone else who saw her respected how damn sexy she was as the product of dedication. Smart, and had an innate sense of when to speak up and ask a question of a wealthy man, and when to listen, nod, and make him feel secure and cared for. I asked her where she got her business skills, sitting at home those years as she’d said. “I guess from being around my father’s business associates and business professors in college, who are all also consultants. So I’ve got a history of working with successful affluent people, even if I don’t have the W-2 to prove it.” Made sense to me. And she continued to be flirty, but somehow stayed in the light gray area. Sure the pecks on the lips were not something I’d want my wife or other colleagues to know about, but she showed no interest in going further. Touched me a lot, but in a familiar, nonsexual way. Picking lint off my jacket, fixing my collar when it was up in the back, a 10-second shoulder rub when I was clearly stressed by some work or personal issue. Her shoulder rubs were ridiculously amazing, too. Strong hands, a hint of excessive teasing with her nails without it being sleazy, and always leaving me feeling more relaxed. Her hand on my arm when looking over the same tax return.
The first time she worked outside the office was a few months after she started with me. There was a 3-day holiday coming up for Presidents Day, and she had a couple of reports I wanted to present on Tuesday. She told me she’d been invited to join some friends at Atlantis in the Bahamas on a trip staying until Wednesday morning, but that there was plenty of WiFi at the resort, and she’d have the reports to me for Tuesday. Worked out fine.
And as a client, she was terrific. Sure, her money management fee was reduced since she was an employee, but she was constantly adding A LOT of cash to her account. “You got a hell of a lot of alimony for a shorter term marriage, didn’t you?” I asked her. She turned red, as if I’d embarrassed her, then just said, “Cheryl’s lawyer did a great job for me.”
Cheryl’s lawyer did a great job for Cheryl, too. Cheryl didn’t get alimony since she had gotten remarried, but she was getting a payout over time of a lump sum settlement, so there was terrific cash flow into her accounts as well. My dentist was happy being married to her, though he never mentioned her much when I’d go see him, even though she was my client.
Dolly did her financial plan and cash flow analysis on the Citation private jet to the Bahamas. Her date was compensating her $25,000 for four days, plus all expenses paid at Atlantis in a suite with champagne, flowers, room service, and spa treatments. Ah, this was the life for her. After an island sunset and cocktails the first night, she sucked his cock adoringly, eyes on his, lots of spit, using those expert massage hands on his tool, bringing him to full mast, then applied a condom and rode him on top, facing him, then reversing so that she was facing the same direction as he was, a fucking position known as reverse cowgirl. After she’d dismounted, she invited him to fuck her from behind, with him standing at the foot of their bed and her on all fours on the bed. He filled the condom, and she cleaned him with her mouth after removing and flushing it. The rest of the weekend was luxurious, with two or three sexual encounters between these two familiar lovers. He’d hired her a few times before, though he hadn’t known she was married the first couple times. He often said to her, “Look, I’m married. I’m not judging anyone. I’m just glad you make me so fucking happy and that we met. So whatever your situation is, that’s your business, and I respect that.” She was flexible, insatiable, swallowed his seed when he came in her mouth, and she gave him all of her body.Dolly’s was the only ass this wealthy private jet-owning friend had ever fucked. She’d taught him how to allow her to adjust to him, how to ease through the tough tight ring of muscle at her sphincter, and then how to supplement the lube while in mid-anal fuck to keep it going. Feeling his covered cock twitch and splooge inside her tight private ass was such a deliciously bad-girl thrill while she was married, telling husband number one that she was visiting friends. He didn’t ask for an address; he had her cell.
I noticed that Dolly’s documents were placed into the “cloud” drop box at some odd times of day when she worked outside the office. None of my business. Maybe she was an insomniac. Maybe she had family obligations that prevented her from keeping more normal hours. She was obviously fit; maybe her workout schedule was the explanation. Or maybe she had an active dating life now that she was no longer married. Which, considering how she looked, made a hell of a lot of sense to me. Thought to myself how much I’d love to be with her, just once!
Or maybe, I wondered, she had some other job, as her deposits were in excess of what I understood her alimony to be. Twenty-five thousand dollars? How to bring that up, I wondered. But it was too large not to notice, given the information I had about her.
“Gift.” Was her one-word answer, in a casual voice as if it were an everyday issue. I had no reason not to take her at her word. Had she left out the part about a family trust or a rich relative? “Well, don’t know if its friends or relatives, but you’ve chosen your gift givers wisely,” was my quip. As I stood looking at her legs, that day in a form fitting dress (thank you, God!) that ended mid-thigh, with a slit.
I continued to fantasize about Dolly. What would a tryst with her be like? How exactly would I seduce a woman so much younger, hotter, and frankly – wealthier – than me? What did I have to offer? Not to mention, I was married. I guess the fantasy was we would be celebrating landing some huge account or passing a milestone of asset gathering. We’d have champagne, the others in the firm would head out, but she and I would just have knowing eye contact and linger until we were the last two. I’d propose a special toast to her, as such a valuable member of the team, and clink glasses, take a sip. When she moved forward for her frequent kisses on the lips with me, closed mouth, I would, this time, move my lips, coax her mouth open, have our tongues at long last meet… this time the embrace would be mutually sensual. No discussion, we’d just know that we had a bond, one that needed to be sealed with a forbidden taboo fuck. I pictured her on my desk, facing me, with me standing while I fucked her. Her legs hooking around the back of my ass, pulling me in, then spreading athletically wide, as my hands finally made the acquaintance of her breasts. In this fantasy, we eventually fully undressed each other, and followed the frantic desk fuck, which had much crying out and guttural, animal sounds of release and satisfaction, with slower, sensual, soft, romance novel love-making. Our eyes always on each others, our bodies sensing the other’s needs, our mouths entangled as we came together.
Naaaaah, bullshit. My belly would get in the way, or more likely, she’d say “Um, you’re married. I hope I haven’t given you the wrong impression.” And I’d be humiliated and awaiting a sexual harassment lawsuit.
Sometimes Dolly would let me know she was going for a mid-day workout. I always wanted to follow, to see her in athletic action. “Have a good time,” I’d say, and I could tell her enthusiasm for exercise by the way she grinned ear to ear when saying, “Oh I will, I definitely will.” She’d return two and a half, three hours later, showered, put together, absolutely glowing. The woman needed to be spokes-model for her gym.
What Dolly wasn’t telling me was that her mid-day workouts were in the form of hotel meetings with friends from other cities who were visiting in town for business and whoplanned to be in town either a day early or a day extra so that they could have hot sex with Dolly. If I’d known, I’d have booked a room myself. An hour, maybe two, and an intense session of deep kissing, Dolly tantalizing the guy with her mouth, licking and sucking his balls, something never dreamed of in my house. These lucky and generous gents, older than me sometimes, younger than her sometimes, and in a variety of shapes and sizes up to a certain point, all brought gifts, in hundreds, unmarked envelopes, sometimes flowers, sometimes wine, and she brought sex toys, condoms, lube, bikinis, thongs, sexy bra and panty sets, thigh highs, maybe stockings with garters, stiletto stripper heels… I was working side by side with pretty much the top paid girlfriend in the United States of America and oblivious to it all.
But the cash flow never made sense. I didn’t know it was gifts from the men she shared her body and time with. As I look back to the amount of coin I dropped at the strip club, to maybe, just maybe, have her indirectly make contact with my cock through my pants during a lap dance …. as if that was something special worth many hundreds. And thenI’d have to shower at the building’s health club and take my suit and shirts directly to the cleaners, so I didn’t get in trouble at home for smelling like an ashtray, something that could happen only in a strip club. Damn those laws banning smoking in bars and restaurants--there went all my best excuses. When Dolly went over a certain thresholdfor her cash contributions in the first eight months with me, I asked her if she needed to do a better plan for herself. And were there gift tax returns being filed by her grandparents or whoever was the source of the largess?
The Financial Planning Association held an annual continuing education boondoggle at the Ritz Carlton Amelia Island on a lovely secluded beach near Jacksonville, Florida. A beach resort with class, service, romantic settings, fantastic accommodations. They would come by at the pool and ask if you wanted your face spritzed with Evian. Offered you frozen grapes. Ever had frozen grapes? You know you’re not at the Holiday Inn when they bring you frozen grapes on china by the pool. I was speaking on tax planning for stock options. Dolly put the presentation together, so I offered for the firm to pay for her to attend the three-day gig. She could do like many did and blow off certain sessions, which lasted from 8:00 a.m. until 1:00 p.m. with some breaks, to visit the spa, just enjoy the pool, or do whatever. My talk was the first morning. After that, she’d done well and introduced me to a number of new clients. She seemed to have no shortage of affluent friends. I guess, between her father and her husband, she’d gotten into certain circles,and that served her well. I booked us in business class. I was going to see her in a bikini!
What I didn’t know was that Dolly, using an assumed name, had posted on an escort board that she would be hosting a few friends in northern Florida, the Jacksonville area is all it said, on one day, which turned out to be the second morning of the seminar. I didn’t know that Dolly had a long-time lover/client/sugar daddy – whatever—lucky guy from Ponte Vedra who got to merge his body with the goddess and had scheduled her. She also had a friend, a pro golfer, who wanted to drive up from Windermere, near Orlando, to pay his respects and make a semen deposit into her sexy mouth. The first appointment was promptly at 9:00 a.m., until 11:00 a.m., while all the financial planners, including yours truly, were downstairs, and the second one was set for 11:30 a.m. until 12:30 p.m.,when the seminar ended for the day. “I can meet you for lunch at 1:30,” she told me when I asked if she wanted to head into Fernandina Beach, the nearby town, for lunch. Some nice quaint shops and older buildings were located in the restored downtown.
Mr. Ponte Vedra was up first, and bearing a gift of $1,200, with another $200 thrown in as a tip. He arrived at her room and was let in before knocking. Dolly embraced him like a long-lost lover once he was inside and the door was shut. The passion of her kisses is what brought this man back, what caused him to fly her to his location to join him. With great lust, she aggressively removed his clothes, pressed his face into her sweet, fresh,tasty pussy, almost forcefully humped his face and implored him to eat her, taste her, lick her clit, tongue-fuck her. She took his cock deep into her mouth. Dolly’s hips shifted back and forth in rapid sensational fashion when she and her lover were deep in a 69position lock ‘n lick embrace. Both of them were sweating, even with the door to the balcony open to capture the ocean breeze, by the time he pulled his condom-covered cock out of her well-fucked pussy and emptied his load into her mouth. She didn’t swallow all of it, but smeared a little remainder into his mouth with her tongue when he kissed her in post-fucking bliss. Dolly had alertly stocked up on extra towels, so even after they bothshowered, and he dressed, kissed her, and grabbed her tight ass to squeeze affectionately, she still had plenty of towels.
When she went to drop the towels into a housekeeping hamper down the hall, she was unaware that I’d gotten bored with the morning’s program and planned to hang a note onher door; if she was going to be available earlier, I could meet her then instead. I saw her parading in the hallway, freshly showered, barefoot, and absolutely glowing. I assumed she was back from a run, showered, and invigorated. Dolly moved briskly andconfidently, not looking around so she never saw me. I was just thrilled to have had that glimpse, still harboring my fantasies because my wife wasn’t with me on this trip. That made it easier not to sleep with me if we were in different cities, I guess.
Seeing Dolly made me horny. I’d already rubbed one out fantasizing about fucking her here, at the Ritz, when I showered that morning. So the spent-cock factor kept me from walking around with a blatant tent in my shorts.
There were a lot of tents at that seminar, however. Dolly was meeting many of the state’s financial planning community for the first time. Even dressed down, she couldn’t hide that body, those legs, those breasts, those eyes …. Shit, she was gorgeous! Everyone wanted to talk to me.
Except Marvin. What the fuck had I ever done to him? A cold shoulder from a fellow planner, when many of us were in breakout sessions, schmoozing our money management sponsors, CPA sponsors, valuation consultants for when our clients needed a tax or business sale value, that was a noticed slight. “You two fight over a client?” I was asked, and more than once. “Hell if I know.” And Dolly saw this, saw the sneer on the man’s face, but classy professional and team player that she was, never said anything and,out of support for me, didn’t respond to him. She’d been identified as my associate when I spoke, which I hadn’t told her I planned to do, and she looked shocked and embarrassed when I called on her to stand up and introduced her to the 300 attendees. Plenty of other people to talk to. Fuck Marvin.
She hadn’t expected to see anyone she knew when she accompanied me. That was, in hindsight, naïve. But Marvin had never told her the truth about what his consulting practice was. He called himself a management consultant. She knew he’d graduated from the engineering program at Purdue University before moving south. She didn’t know that his consulting consisted of doing financial plans and pushing annuities on business owners, particularly small manufacturers. This wasn’t a management consultant conference. No way did she expect to see Marvin. And no way he’d have known Dolly’s name if I just said it. But I had to go and ask her to stand, to show off my sexy associate.
Marvin, I later learned, was rougher with her than almost anyone she saw. Fucked her mouth hard, thought he’d imitate porn stars he’d watched. Whacked off first so he’d last longer, but about half the time had trouble finishing and cumming in an hour, which waswhy she began using her mouth so much on him. He never asked what he could do to help her cum. She did cum on her pay dates, for real. Unless she was with a total jerk--like Marvin. Never, nope, not once. Faked it for him, he felt like a king. Gave him her ass, too. Brutal, a slight tear that first time, thankfully not worse. Cautioned him to slow down thereafter, but always prepped with a progressively larger series of three butt plugs and lots of lube beforehand. Tipped well though, because Marvin’s ego required that he look like Mr. Big at all times.
I figured Dolly might need some more time to get herself together, since I’d just seen her barefoot and apparently just showered in the hall. I don’t know why, but I just decided I should go retrieve my note from the door and just meet her at 1:30, as planned So it was about 11:30 when I headed back up to her floor and saw some guy I’d never seen beforeapproach her room. Maybe she’d asked a boyfriend to fly down and meet her? Single, rich, sexy, great beach resort, company-paid ocean-view mini-suite. I turned, and there was Marvin.
“Did he jump you in line?” Marvin asked. No idea what the dick was talking about. “She flat turned me down this trip, said she was booked. Is she booked for the rest of the time with you? I’m surprised you were okay with her taking other guys during the seminar hours.”
“Marvin, what the fuck are you talking about? Booked, jumped in line?”
Marvin’s face went cold. He saw I didn’t know what the hell he was talking about. “Never mind, I wasn’t here.” And he left.