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From: kellis <kellis@dhp.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Room at the Top {Kellis} (MF oral humor)
Date: Sat, 30 Mar 2002 05:10:05 -0500
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Room at the Top

Copyright (c)  March, 2002, Kellis





"Mr. Collins, why do you always make me suck your cock?"

The girl's mouth was right at the end of the organ, her lips
tickling the exposed head as she spoke.  She had already roused
it to a full stand while kneeling between his legs in front of
his executive chair, her elbows extended over his thighs to hold
his lowered britches away from the action.  Her left hand held
the shaft depressed while her right massaged the hairy bag of
flesh that dangled beneath it.

He gazed down at her in mild astonishment from his partly
reclining position slunk forward in the huge chair.  "You never
objected before, Sally."

"I'm not objecting now, sir."  Her hand worked the shaft's loose
skin absently.  "But you have a nice couch over there that we
never use.  I was just curious."

Her tongue flicked the eye, causing a visible throb, but plainly
she expected to have more to say.

"To tell you the truth, Sally, I never thought of that.  You give
such wonderful head!"

"Thank you, sir.  I made a study of it, you know."

"A study?"

"Oh, yes.  When I found out you liked it so much, I read all the
books and then I went to see my Aunt Margie."

"Your, ah, Aunt Margie knows something about cock sucking?"

"I'll say.  She worked in Hollywood for 20 years."

"As an actress?"

"Oh, yes.  She made a lot of movies."

"No kidding!  What's her full name?"

"Her screen name was Lilly Bangus.  She starred in some real
hits, like _Backdoor Push_, _Sucking Up_ and _Calamity Crack_."

"I see.  Real hits, were they?"

"Oh, yes.  My older brother went back to see _Sucking Up_ ten
times."

The man chuckled.  "Guess I would, too, if my aunt was the star."

"He really had the hots for Aunt Margie!  She has some wonderful
notes and clippings, how many different cocks she sucked, what
was the biggest, the smallest, how many girl-poppers, the
youngest and --"

"Ah, 'girl-poppers?'"

"Like yours.  The ones the girl could pop without the guy having
to pump.  They're kind of rare in the movies."

"Now that you mention it ..."

"Anyway, Aunt Margie called her husband in and let me practice
until I got it right."

"Very interesting.  Hmm.  Where's your aunt these days?"

"Oh, I hate to tell you, Mr. Collins.  Aunt Margie isn't doing so
well."

"How old is she?"

"She won't say, but I think she's just a bit over 40."

"That's not so old.  What's her problem?"

"That last husband.  He was a gambler.  A _bad_ gambler.  He took
every dime before she got rid of him.  Now she's reduced to
living on residuals."

The man fell silent, brow knit in concentration.  The woman
sighed and peeling back the foreskin, closed her lips just beyond
the corona, sealing them so that she could apply suction with the
back of her tongue while the rough front swirled round and round
the bulbous glans, pausing occasionally to diddle sideways in the
sensitive eye.

After awhile he mused, "We need a replacement for Ms. Barnaby.
Did your aunt ever do anything besides act?"

Reluctantly the woman raised her head.  "The latht five yearth
--"  She giggled.  "Doing that alwayth maketh my tongue so
thick!"

"Take it easy.  How long has she been out of work?"

"Only a couple years.  Actually she still does an odd job here
and there.  I was trying to say, her last five years in the
movies she worked as an assistant director."

"Ah, did she!  Now, that's interesting."

"She was very good at getting the men to pop when they were
supposed to.  That skill is rare in the movies."

"Other places, too."

"The problem in the movies is that when they're shooting film,
they want the guys to pop three or four times a day."

"How did she arrange it?"

"She didn't tell me _everything_!  But hearing her talk to her
buddies, I think usually it was getting the second stringers to
work the guys up in advance.  Of course, that's pretty tricky,
too."

"Easy to go too far, eh?"

"Sometimes.  Aunt Margie was especially good with the older guys.
She was given an award for adding another three squirts to Peter
South."

"Wow!  I think I may want to see your aunt."

"For a job here?  We have a hiring freeze, you know."

"Don't worry about that, Sally.  Always plenty of room at the
top." 

"Oh, yeah.  They made her a producer and she doubled the
profits."

"Did she!  What happened to her?"

"The studio sold out to another that didn't like her looks."

He stared then nodded.  "I guess movie stars do run that risk."

"Especially when they get behind the cam--"

She broke off at a knock on the locked door.  Hastily she backed
away and rose to her feet, hand to her hair.  The man sat up,
jerked britches and underpants up around his waist, buckled the
belt and scooted the big chair up close behind his desk.  She
waited, standing at the door.  He nodded.  She unlocked it and
pulled it open.

"Hello, Mr. Morgan," she said.  "Won't you come in?"  As the
other man passed in front of her, she turned back to Collins.
"Sir, would you care to finish this dick-ation later?"

"That's dictation, Sally; dick-_ta_-tion."

The newcomer chuckled.  "Didn't reach the tonsils yet, Sally?  No
sense in leaving.  And your boss's hard dick won't interfere with
my question.  Collins, which girl did you send to meet Grafton's
flight?"

"Why, ah, Julia, wasn't it, Sally?"

"Yes, sir.  Julia."

"That's what I gathered.  She's not gonna make it."

"What?  That's terrible!"

"You know it.  She called a few minutes ago.  Her limousine ran
into an abutment on the Southwest Expressway.  She's pretty shook
up."

"Good heavens!  Did the driver have a heart attack?"

"Not in so many words.  I gather it was more of a _hard_ attack.
She was sucking him off for practice."

Collins nodded.  "She _is_ dedicated!"

"She says she nearly bit it off."

"Was anyone hurt?"

Morgan chuckled.  "Not so's you'd notice.  But this is serious,
just when we need to sweeten him up.  Old Grafton's jet will be
on the ground in half an hour.  I called Special Services at the
airport.  They're looking for a car and a girl but so far
haven't found either available.  Thought I'd give you a heads
up.  You might want to make sure your parachute can open."

"Thanks, Morgan.  God, life is just full of mean little
surprises!"

"Isn't it!  Nothing more we can do about it but cross our
fingers.  Back on your knees, young lady."

He turned around and marched out of the office.  The woman
followed him, locked the door and returned to stand beside
Collins.  "What's next, sir?"

"Did you ever suck Grafton, Sally?"

"Oh, yes, sir.  We all had to."

"Anything, ah, unusual?"

"Unusual, sir?  Well, he's not a girl-popper, but I don't know
whether you can call that unusual."

"You mean he has to jack off while you're sucking?"

"I think he's in the habit of it."

Collins mused, "Well, he is a rather old man.  Must be nearly in
his seventies."

She smiled reminiscently.  "Old, but oh, so rich!"

"That makes a big difference, does it, Sally?"

"He sent me a diamond bracelet once."

"Yes, that would make a difference."

"Shall we resume the dick-ation?"

He sighed.  "Will you never learn the right word?"

"It _is_ the right word!"

He chuckled and tilted his head back to study her.  "You want to
try the couch?"

"The couch?"

"I assume you really mean you want to do, ah, regular fucking."

"I don't know, sir."

He frowned.  "Why did you mention it, then?  You'd have to take
off your panty-hose, at least, and probably your skirt and slip,
too, to keep them unwrinkled.  I'd have to undress a lot also.
Time consuming and sweaty.  If we were both about naked, it would
be a lot of fun, but ...  We both get plenty of that at home,
don't we?"

"Yes, sir."

"Whereas this way, you never muss your makeup or even spill a
drop."

"No, sir."

He stared at her.  She returned it unblinkingly.

"Is something bothering you, Sally?"

She shook her head as if recovering from a daydream.  "Will you
excuse me a minute, Mr. Collins?  I need to visit the ladies'."

"Yes, of course."

When she returned, he announced, "Then it's decided.  _Heads_ is
the winner."  He pushed back his chair to the wall, raised up and
shoved both sets of britches to half-mast.  The woman rounded the
desk, sank between his legs, elbows across his thighs, and took
her shrunken objective in hands and mouth.

He threw his head back and shut his eyes.  "Don't worry, Sally.
You'll stay with me.  If Grafton is so pissed that he shuts us
down, I have enough options on Roland Mutual for a vice
presidency or at least a seat on the board.  We'll just slip over
there.  You'll continue sucking my dick every day for the same
salary."

She paused but shortly resumed, the swirling tongue much in
evidence.

After a bit he mused aloud, "I wish I could choose who picks up
Grafton.  I'd make it a battered old Lincoln and a scurvy whore
with clap of the tonsils.  The driver'd be a big mean dude who
stops in a garage and reams Grafton's asshole before they throw
him out without a dime.  Teach that old bastard the whole world
doesn't turn for his benefit.

"Whew!  That's exciting stuff.  Suck it, you dedicated little
cocksucker, you!"



* * *



Two hours later Sally sat in made-up perfection with her portable
computer perched on the side of Collins' desk while he worked on
the division budget, substituting trial values in the critical
cells of her spreadsheet.  Some of his choices, such as a private
washroom for each executive office, were obviously wishful
thinking.  Sally made a Wordpad note of the coordinates for those
root cells so that when the bottom line alarmed even Collins, she
could easily remove them.

The telephone rang.  She lifted the receiver.  "Mr. Collins'
office."

It rattled lengthily.  Eyes widening, she said, "Hold on.  I'll
tell him."

With instinctive caution she lowered her voice.  "This is Daisy
downstairs.  She says a limousine is stopped in the garage and
security says according to the driver it's old man Grafton."

Collins blinked.  "'Stopped,' you say?"

"Yes, sir, with the engine idling.  The driver says they're doing
business in the back."

"Ask her how long it's been down there."

Sally opened her mouth but Daisy had overheard.  Sally relayed,
"About five minutes."

Collins motioned for her to hang up.

She said, "Thanks, Daisy," and did so.

"I guess Special Services came through," Collins mused.  "We'll
work on the budget later, Sally.  Go get your printouts of the
Newbury presentation and spread them on my desk."

"But Newbury was last week!"

"Grafton won't know that, will he?"

Sally soon returned from the files in the hall and spread the
obsolete presentation across his desk before departing to her own
desk in front of his office door.

Morgan popped his head in.  "You get the word?"  He squinted at
the bold _Newbury_ on the top printout and grinned knowingly.
"You got it."

"Who did the airport find for him?" Collins asked.

"I don't know, but obviously they located something."

The excited buzzing in the main room told Collins when Grafton
arrived.  His phone rang.  A moment later Sally stood in his
door.  "Mr. Grafton wants you in the main conference room."

"Thank you, Sally," he murmured, getting to his feet.  "Is it
just me?"

"No, sir.  He's calling for all the executives."

"I guess that's good."

"I guess," she agreed, though her eyes regarded him strangely,
almost aggressively.  He shrugged and sauntered down the hall.

Morgan caught up with him just before the conference room.  "You
heard anything?"

"Not yet," said Collins.  "But I get the feeling something's in
the wind."

"Yeah, so do I.  Guess we're about to find out."

They entered the room and took adjacent seats at the long table.
Grafton's wrinkled face and white cookie-duster moustache
glowered from the far end.  A strange, matronly woman in a suit
sat on his right hand, holding a notepad.  Though quite a
handsome female with blonde hair and tasteful makeup, she was
obviously older than his usual choice of personal assistant.

"Close the door, Shivell," the old man said as the fifth and last
vice president came through it.  "Take a seat and let's get down
to business."

He waited until five expectant faces were turned silently to him.
The strange woman checked something in her notebook.

"I don't mind telling you," Grafton began, "that I came here
today to close this office.  Your bottom line fails to come
anywhere near justifying your glowing reports of the past two
quarters.  You have recently lost three major contracts, Newbury
Products being the latest.  You looked surprised, Morgan.  You
didn't think I'd heard about that yet, did you?

"John Newbury and I go back a long way.  He called me and
complained that I let Commestible undercut me.  To my surprise I
discovered that indeed I had!"

His listeners exchanged stricken glances.  Melton, the local head
VP, sighed audibly.  "But, Mr. Grafton, we held the line on our
previous quote."

"So I understand, but Commestible cut theirs by ten per-cent."
The old man added sarcastically, "Apparently _they_ noticed the
cost of magnetic storage has dropped by half!"

"It _has_?" exclaimed Porter, Vice President of Procurement.

"And not one of you detected it, obviously.  Do I have to remind
you that in between secretarial shoves you guys are supposed to
at least read your staff reports?"

They looked at the ceiling, at the lone woman, everywhere but at
Grafton.  Her face remained composed.  She scratched something
into her notebook.

The old man cleared his throat.  "I said I came here today to
close this office and incidentally to fire the lot of you."  He
glared around.  "But I've been persuaded to change my mind."

He put his hand on the woman's suited arm.  "This is Margaret
Holmes.  Gentlemen, meet Grafton Enterprises' most senior VP."

They blinked and stared, now with a very different concern.
Melton swallowed and ventured, "Congratulations, Ms. Holmes."

Her eyes narrowed coldly on him.  "You are?"

Grafton interrupted, his voice suddenly genial, "Margie, these
are the heads of your departments in this branch, serving
entirely at your pleasure."  He pointed around the table,
specifying each man's name.  She wrote furiously in her notebook.
Collins gulped.  Had she projected a particularly flinty glare at
the sound of _his_ name?

"When they entered that door," Grafton continued blandly, "they
were VPs.  When they leave they will each have the rank of
_director_ and each salary will be cut by 25 per-cent."  He
smiled.  "That may thin them out a bit, one way or the other.  Do
you have any questions, Margie?"

"Yes, sir."  She gazed around at her wide-eyed subordinates.
"Which of you has the largest office?"

They all looked at Melton.  Swallowing again, he admitted it.

"You will move into the next available office immediately."

"Y-yes, sir -- uh, I mean, yes, ma'am."

"I want to inspect your present office later this afternoon.  All
of you will please report to me there at eight o'clock tomorrow
morning."

Grafton chuckled in the stunned silence.  "That's it, gentlemen.
If you people have any questions for management, put them to
Margie from now on."  He stood up.  "Morgan, send that cutie of
yours, um, Betty Lou? -- to ride with me back to the airport."

"Yes, sir," said Morgan as they all stood.

But the woman stared piercingly at one of them.  "I'll meet with
you now in your office, Mr. Collins."

Faces appalled, the newly demoted shambled from the conference
room ahead of the bosses.  "Director!" muttered Morgan, rolling
his eyes.  He raised his fist and jerked it downward in the
gesture by which children persuade truckers to blow their air
horns.

"What are you doing?" asked Collins.

"Testing my rip-cord."

Collins fell back to wait for the woman.  "This way, Ms. Holmes."

Sally looked back and forth between them as they passed before
her desk.  Pausing at the office door, the senior VP beckoned to
the secretary.  "You, too, and lock the door."

As the girl did so, the woman pushed past him, rounded his desk
and stood before his captain's chair.  He paused at the corner of
his desk.

"Sally," said the woman, "clean off this junk and put it back in
the file."

Collins started.  How had she known it was "junk?"

She hiked up her suit skirt, whipped down her pantyhose and
stepped on them with one foot in order to free the other.  She
plopped down on the edge of the chair and spread her legs,
exposing pubes trimmed in a neat V above bulging labia.  She
cocked her head up toward the standing man.  "How much persuasion
will you need, Collins?"

He hesitated.  "Does Sally have to be here?"

"Yes."

He gulped.  "Are you healthy?"

She smirked.  "Healthy enough for Grafton."  She shook her head.
"Too bad.  Your hesitation has cost your next raise.  Let's try
this.  If in a week's time you return every bit of that 800 thou'
you sent offshore this year, I won't notify the police."  She
studied his suddenly whitened face.  "Do you find that
persuasive, Collins?"

"Wh-what do you want?"

"What does a woman usually want when she bares her twat?  Come
on, Collins.  You can either lick me or lick your fellow
convicts."

He turned his head to stare accusingly at Sally, but the woman in
his chair sneered, "You can't be as dumb as you look, Collins!
Either get on your knees or make a run for it.  Now!"

Half of that embezzled money had been invested in Enron stock on
a hot tip from his uncle, from whom no one had heard in months.
Collins slipped around the corner of the desk as the woman smirked
and shoved the chair back.  He dropped to his knees on her
crumpled pantyhose.  To his surprise her inner lips tasted of
bourbon.  She could tolerate whisky in her cunt?  Then he
remembered the bourbon-flavored douches of a few years back and
decided this one must have been freshly applied.

He licked around the clitoris until it lumped up, then applied
his tongue to the smooth skin above it.  His hands slipped under
the raised skirt and massaged her cool hips.

"Well!" he heard her declare above him.  "You're not _totally_
useless.  You do know a little something about licking a split."

He redoubled his efforts.  Her thighs closed on his ears and her
body twisted.  After a while she opened her legs.  Hands on his
forehead pushed him back.

"Enough for now, Collins.  Sally, you take my place."

The woman got up, making room for the secretary, who likewise
removed her pantyhose and sank into his seat.  He looked up at
the familiar face and something clicked.  "She's your Aunt
Margie, isn't she!"

Sally grinned.  "I told you she was terrific."  Her hands came
down and parted the hairy labia.  "Right in the middle," she
directed.

Numbly he leaned into the work.  Sally responded immediately.
Legs closed on his head and her body convulsed.  Dimly he heard
shrieks.  Strong hands on his shoulders yanked him back.

"Enough!" cried the woman.  She laughed and handed him a Kleenex
to wipe his wet face.  "They'll accuse you of raping us."

"God damn!" he muttered, falling back against the well of the
desk.

His new boss took his arm and helped him up to sit in the guest
chair.  Sally was leaning back in the captain's chair, moaning
softly, fingers thrusting between her legs.

"I'd forgot that about her," said the woman irritably, "no
self-control."  She leaned past him, extended her hand and
audibly thumped the girl's head with a fingernail as if testing a
cantaloupe.

"Oh!" cried Sally, eyes suddenly wide.  Hands departed groin to
rub her head.

"Sorry, honey," said the woman sympathetically, "but this is
business, not the place to get carried away.  Sit up and satisfy
Collins' curiosity."

"Curiosity?"  She looked askance at his middle, still fully
clothed.

The woman chuckled slightly.  "Forget his hard-on.  He's burning
with curiosity about how all this happened."

The girl lowered her skirt and straightened up, elbows on the
desk and eyes narrowing on Collins.  "You're a lazy crook, you
know.  If I didn't like your cock so well, I'd've ratted you out
a long time ago."

His chin dropped.  "Uh, Sally --"

"But I only told Aunt Margie.  She asked me a lot of questions
about this place, about Grafton and his sole-proprietorship.  We
talked about everything that goes on.  The other secretaries told
me about their bosses and I told Aunt Margie.  She knows all
about this place and about Grafton, including some stuff the IRS
would like to hear.  So when Julie wrecked this morning, I went
to the payphone in the lobby and called my auntie."

The woman smiled.  "_Carpe diem_ is the operative phrase.
Grafton wasn't much harder to persuade than you, Collins."  Her
eyes twinkled.  "I hear you have a chunk of options in Roland
Mutual.  Didn't you know that Grafton has a 51 per-cent stake
there?"

"He ... he _what_?"

"And I don't think Mr. Grafton will care very much for an
employee in either firm with a record of embezzlement, do you?"

He stared at her and took a deep, shuddery breath.  "Wh-what else
do you want, Ms. Holmes?"

The woman smiled.  "Oh, I want you to stay right here where you
can lick my split whenever it's convenient.  And Sally's, of
course, after we build a soundproof restroom for you.  How does
that suit you?"

"Ah, ah, I th-think I can stand that, but --"

"Good.  And there's going to be a few other changes, though not
just on you.  For example the secretary must approve every formal
decision one of you guys makes from now on.  And _I_ must approve
any change in secretaries."

"B-but ... _they_ don't know enough to --"

"Then you'll just have to call the experts in to answer their
questions, won't you?"

"Ah ...  Good god!"

The woman's face grew serious.  "Grafton charged me with putting
this place in the black and I know how to do it.  Attention to
detail is always the key, and let me tell you, you guys are
really going to bend over and attend to it!"

Sally laughed aloud at his expression.  "You ought to love that,
Mr. Collins.  It makes a lot more room at the top."





END

kellis@dhp.com

Stories gratis at http://users.dhp.com/files/Authors/kellis/www

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Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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