Try again with Lorelei.

It’s late in the work day when you feel ready. It’s been a strange day – strange even in the succession of strange days you’ve been having in recent weeks. Perhaps the only one stranger was the one in which that frumpy meter maid Brook smashed up your car and lost her head over you, followed by realizations that you are being watched, that whatever King may claim, people are being punished on 7.

Today, though, finding out you can walk up to one of the hotter women you’ve ever seen, drop your own name, and fuck her. Just like that. Not only fuck her, but completely _own _her. Summer let you order her, embarrass her, neglect her, toy with her, and ultimately use her, all without so much as a complaint. You saw a side of yourself you never knew you had, or at least that you’d never let out. Should you feel bad, treating someone so? After almost an hour of contemplation, you come to a conclusion:

“Should” nothing. You do not.

She had every chance to say no. You don’t have any power over her that she didn’t give you. You weren’t gentle, but nothing about her reaction suggested she wanted otherwise. That’s all there is to it. Great sex, the end.

The only thing you find yourself regretting about your day is letting that woman, Lauren or whoever, ignore you. She obviously doesn’t know who you are.

Will Summer-Fucking Saxon. That’s who.

Lorelei Corfield, that’s the name on the closed door. Lorelei, not Lauren. Sales Representative, it says in smaller font beneath. You don’t knock. Lauren – you prefer that, so that’s what you’ll call her – left it unlocked, and in you stride.

The woman is sitting at her desk, looking at something on her monitor with a smile that rapidly fades to perplexity at your unannounced arrival. Perplexity fades to exasperation when you close the door behind you and regard her, hands on hips.

“My name is Will Saxon.”

“This is a bad time, actu–”

“And I want a blowjob.”

Her eyes widen, then, unable to resist perhaps, they dart to your crotch and back up to your face. “Wow. Um, I’ll have to… just, wow.”

“Chop chop, sweetheart. Work day is over at five.” You undo your fly, and her eyes fly even wider.

A voice sounds from her computer speakers. “Hey, Lorelei, is everything OK over there? I thought I heard… I’m not sure.”

“Everything’s fine,” she says hurriedly, forcing a smile at her webcam. “I have to go deal with something. So very sorry – I’ll call back later, all right?” She taps a few keys on her keyboard and you pick up the tell-tale sound of a web conference ending.

“You’re that guy who was in here earlier,” she says, standing. She remains on her side of the desk though.

Still struggling to contain your own embarrassment, you act cool. As cool as you can knowing that at least one stranger just overheard your classy “me want BJ” pickup line. “I am.”

“And you said your name is… Bill?”

“Will.” There goes Lauren. Now you’d only sound like you were trying to repay the slight. “Saxon.”

“Will Saxon. OK. Do you try this kind of stunt often, Will?”

“Um, no.”

“Ever?”

“Just today.”

Lorelei nods understandingly. “Why is that, do you think?”

You scowl. This isn’t going right. Regain the upper hand. “I’m Will Saxon. You may have heard of me? New to the company.”

“I don’t actually read those emails,” she replies. Her arms fold across her chest. “Now I’m half-wondering what I’m missing out on. All that said… why don’t you tug that zipper back up, go home a little early, and take a long, cold shower, yeah?”

“But… I’m Will. Saxon.”

“No one doubts that. Lorelei Corfield – and if you don’t believe me, look for yourself at the nameplate on the door while you close it behind you.”

The crashing is playing out before your eyes; you begin to anticipate the impending burn. “Oh crap. You’re not going to go to HR about this, are you? It was… a prank. Not by me! I would never…”

“Oh, obviously.” She nods, too vigorously.

“No! I mean, somebody put me up to this. They told me… And then I… Summer…” You shake your head. “Look, just please. I’m sorry, OK? Really. I didn’t mean anything by it. Nobody has to know.”

She snort-laughs. “Maybe you were distracted by your zipper falling down, but somebody already does know about it. I mean, really? ‘I didn’t mean anything by it?’ Because it sure sounds like you meant to storm into my office uninvited and demand oral sex.”

Oh shit. How could your day go from so good to so bad so quickly?! There’s no point in looking for pity after the way you opened up. Only one way to go. “Look, I don’t want to be a prick about this, but it’s probably better for everybody if we keep this between ourselves.”

“Is that some kind of threat?” Lorelei snaps, hands sliding to her hips.

“I’m only trying to help you understand the situation. You see, I’m pretty close with Nolan King.” In that you spoke with him twice. But the meetings had been face to face, which is close, technically.

“Is that so?”

“Yeah,” you lie, and you believe it even less than when the lie first passed through your lips.

“Well maybe I’ll just take my chances, Willy boy. Test your clearly ironclad friendship with Mr. King against the word of myself and, oh yeah, my witnesses from the call you interrupted.”

Shit shit shit! Why did Summer have to capitulate so convincingly?! Did Amy hire a prostitute or something? Did she tail you all day, arrange that stupid meet-cute and put up with you for a few hundred bucks? If she was half as upset over that night as she sounded, she could easily have afforded to pull something like that.

“Come on, I’m the Associate Director of IT Security,” you press. Because that’s so much more intimidating than a close personal relationship with the CEO.

Except… she hesitates.

“You are?”

“Yes?” Even with the lack of authority in your voice, you can see her backing down. Her shoulders relax, arms slowly lower to her sides. Why did that of all things give her pause? Was this commodity thing predicated on name and job title somehow? What in the hell is this?

“Look. I didn’t realize…” She shakes her head. “You got carried away, and you said something you regret. So why don’t you apologize, and let’s both of us get back to work. Yeah?”

You’re too grateful to be spared the nightmare of an investigation into your clear act of sexual harassment to probe the issue, or even remember that you already apologized. “Totally. I’m so sorry, Ms. Corfield. It won’t happen again, I promise. Very, very sorry.”

She eyes you for a moment. “Great. Nice meeting you. If you’re still having that issue, maybe try one of the junior sales reps next time, yeah?”

You laugh awkwardly. “Yeah, maybe I… I mean, no, I won’t. I meant… oh, fuck. Bye.” You’re out before she can say another word.

You leave early that day. You’re dressed like a college intern who misunderstood his first “casual Friday,” mortified from your second rejection by Lorelei, and plain old tired from your afternoon enjoying the Monarch corporate fitness plan.

Most frustrating of all, you don’t know any better than you did yesterday if Amy is messing with you or what. What happened with Summer can’t be a fluke, you decide as you reiterate the day’s events to a patient, albeit mostly slumbering Mo. Amy doesn’t have the Meryl Streep of whores on her contact list, ready to prank somebody at a moment’s notice. She was into it. Into you. You have no doubts there. She was as into you as Lorelei wasn’t.

Mo curls up beside you in bed, a rare display of empathy. You cuddle him until he falls asleep. Around two in the morning, you accept that you can’t.

You throw on a pair of pajama pants and grab the top t-shirt out of your drawer. Your fingers are your comb, the half-heartedness halved again by the distraction of driving. The house is dark, but the evening is still warm. Cicadas thrum along endlessly as you ring the doorbell.

You wait a couple minutes, not daring to hit it twice. Either she wakes up and decides to let you in, or–

“Will?” Avery Parker, her body wrapped in a thin, black, alluringly clingy silk robe, rubs her eyes. No glasses, for once. Nevertheless she looks surprisingly good, considering the hour, better than most women look at their best. Must not have been in bed long, or else her hair is somehow kink-resistant. “Is everything OK? What’s going on?”

“I’m fine. I just…”

With two handfuls of Avery’s soft, round ass, you pull her body against you, and kiss her. For a moment, you worry you’ve done it again when you feel her hands close on your wrists, but rather than pull free, she’s lowering them, down until you hit bare thigh, and then right back up. There’s no panties under that robe. Just Avery.

There’s no resistance. Maybe she’s tired, or maybe that’s what she’d been hoping for ever since she found out you were on her doorstep and ran back inside to fix herself up. Her arms wrap around your neck and hold you against her. Is that mint on her breath? Mouthwash, you think. You hope it’s left a little something dirty in there.

“Blow me, Avery,” you say softly.

She pulls back, though only a little, and smiles at you, or at least her eyes are smiling. You can’t see her lips. “You say the sweetest things.”

“I’m serious. I want a blowjob. From you. Tonight. Right the hell now.”

She watches you for a moment. There’s no anxiety, though. She’s no Lorelei.

“Well OK, then.”

And Avery Parker, regional assistant to the manager of sales, her office in the next hallway down from the one where this same demand was scoffed at hours ago, sinks down to her knees in the doorway of her home, pulls out your cock, and starts to lick.

There’s an elegance to it, at first. Up the right side, up the left. Down, and down. God, right up the center. Then, like she can’t hold herself back any longer, it’s in her mouth, engulfed, her face impaled. She looks up, permissiveness in her smoldering eyes, and you sink your fingers into her silky blonde hair and start to thrust. The eyes squeeze shut as, on your third or fourth thrust, you push past the tightness in the back of her mouth and into her tight wet throat.

A hand clutches at your ass, an assist to keep her mouth in place as you fuck her beautiful face. During a pause when you nearly lose your balance, you have to prop yourself up against the door jamb and shifting your grip to a simple pressure on the back of her skull. Somewhere during the adjustment you realize that she’s playing with herself.

You click your tongue at her. “No. I need you focused.”

She nods, sort of, as much as you’ll let her nod, and pulls herself – two-handed, now – into your dick. Her eyes squeeze shut, tears leaking out the corners as she swallows endlessly around the invader in her throat. Dark tears; there’s still some mascara. No idea how she found time to apply it, but you appreciate the effort.

Not enough to resist the urge to buck her off and come all over her, though.

The knot on her robe is loose, almost undone, one breast revealed and the other trying to be as she lands on an elbow on the entry rug of her home. Avery has no time to react as the cum starts to rain down on her, but after the initial burst she opens her mouth and extends her tongue like some whore in a porno.

“You’re one hot fucking slut, you know, Avery?”

She nods. A spurt of cum hits her eye. She keeps nodding anyway. You keep coming until you’ve finished what you came here to do.

As your car engine starts, Avery’s still clearly visible in the bright lights beside the front door, legs spread and robe opened, fingering herself as she stares after you. You could have done more, you know, but it would have been for her, not you. You came here for you, so now you leave. You think you can see her back arching in climax in your rear view mirror as you drive away.

Mo is still asleep in your bed where you left him, an invitation to join him. You accept, and sleep like the dead.

Decision time! Tomorrow is another day, so decide what you’ll focus your energies on. Voting is online at my patreon for $10+ patrons.

• Enjoy yourself! Maybe try one of those junior sales associates Lorelei mentioned.
• Enjoy yourself! Tell Summer she’s coming over to your place after work tomorrow.
• Enjoy yourself! Find Mia and make her slutty, self-promotional dreams come true.
• Enjoy yourself! Tell Jenna you’re relaxing the dress code, invite her to show off her recent purchases. (Best not to go _too _far; she is still under your direct supervision, after all.)
• Control yourself. Demand some answers from Amy about what’s really going on.
• Control yourself. Do some networking (maybe with your staff, whom you’ve barely met?) and see what people know about this “commodity” business.
• Control yourself. Use your network access to snoop on Lorelei Corfield. She obviously knows something.
• Control yourself. Try to get in a word with Nolan King and see if he’ll let anything slip to a bro.