5 comments/ 29441 views/ 13 favorites Desperate Measures: The Driver By: soflabbwlvr Author's note: Desperate Measures is an anthology consisting of stories related by theme, rather than by character, chronology, or storyline. Accordingly, they can be read in any order, as each installment is a stand-alone entry. Desperate Measures: The Driver Gwendolyn's smile returned. She's genuinely proud of her work. This is much more than a tax shelter for her. "That's commendable. But why do you need a driver?" "That's simple, Mr. Lowery. I don't like to drive. I have an office on Brickell Avenue, but it's over an hour drive each way. That's time I could spend working, talking to donors, or just relaxing with a cold beverage." "That makes sense." "Also, I get sleepy when I drive–especially at night." Gwendolyn smirked. "The car you would be driving is the same Mercedes that brought you here. It's a 2002 model with 400 horsepower, if that makes a difference to you. It was the first thing I purchased when the lawsuit concluded. "For the most part, I need to be driven from here to the office and back two or three days per week. I travel once or twice per month, so I will need transportation to and from the airport. If I should have an event in the evening, I will require your services then, as well. And of course, for any shopping or other activities I should schedule on the weekends. In addition, you will drive the maid or Miss Webber to the store to purchase groceries and household items as needs require." "I see. In that case, what are the hours?" "Good question, Mr. Lowery. From what I have just described as the job duties, you can see that the hours are somewhat irregular. The average work day will comprise at most two to three hours of actual driving. However, I will require your availability twenty-four hours per day, six days per week. The one day off will vary from week to week, depending upon my schedule." "So, am I supposed to just sit at home and wait for you to call and tell me where and when to pick you up?" Tom frowned. "Would you have a problem with that?" Gwendolyn arched an eyebrow. "Yes...no...I mean...is that normal?" Tom squirmed in his chair. "I'm teasing you, Mr. Lowery." Tom exhaled. "You will live here. In fact, all of my household staff lives here. Except for your day off, the rest of the time you will wait here until I require your services." "Live here? In the middle of nowhere?" "I assure you, Mr. Lowery, it is not as intolerable as you may believe. This is a walled estate with twenty acres of landscaped tropical paradise. We have an Olympic-sized pool, a hot tub and sauna, and an expansive deck. We have a weight and fitness room. There is a putting green, biking trails, and a stable with six horses. I recently signed a contract for the installation of tennis courts this summer. You have never lived in such comfort at any time in your life." "Is the housing expense deducted from the salary?" Tom raised one eyebrow. "Of course not, Mr. Lowery. That is one of the fringe benefits of working for me. Not only do you live in luxury, but it is entirely free of charge. Just think of how much money you will be saving when you do not have to pay rent, electricity, or water and sewage." Tom leaned forward in his chair. "How much is the salary?" Gwendolyn frowned. "I am a little disappointed, Mr. Lowery. I had hoped that we would be further along in our discussion before the issue of money reared its ugly head." "I'm sorry to disappoint you, Mrs. Garrity, but it is a matter of some importance to me." "I'm quite aware of your circumstances, Mr. Lowery. You are thirty-five years of age. You have been out of work for six months. You were a beat writer with the local newspaper, but dwindling subscriptions have led to downsizing. Despite working there for twelve years and winning numerous awards, your job was eliminated and you have not been able to find any work since. Your wife divorced you immediately after you lost your job. She and your two children are living in the home of her fiancee, and she is planning a destination wedding in St. Thomas next Valentine's Day. Oh, you didn't know that last bit of information, did you? I'm sorry, Mr. Lowery, very sorry. In addition, your unemployment benefits are about to expire, and your child support payment is two weeks past due. Your credit cards have been cancelled, you have less than five hundred dollars in the bank, and your electricity is going to be shut off on Monday. Is there anything I am missing?" Tom sat upright, his face frozen in shock. "That's pretty thorough. How did you get all of that information?" "I have my resources, Mr. Lowery. I know people who can find out things for me. It is very important for a woman in my position to be ultra-careful when bringing new people into my home." "I see. Well, you probably already know everything about me already. But you still haven't told me the salary for this job." "I assure you, Mr. Lowery, you will find the salary sufficient." "Now you are just taunting me, Mrs. Garrity." "Not at all, Mr. Lowery. I have done my research. The average starting salary for a driver with no experience is $25,000. The maximum salary in this market is $45,000. I am prepared to offer you $50,000 if you can start tomorrow." Tom's eyes bulged. "Fifty thousand? I'll take it." "Not so fast, Mr. Lowery. We still have a process to complete. I must finish what my advisors call 'due diligence.'" "Fire away. I'll tell you anything you want to know." "Actually, we are finished with the interview portion, Mr. Lowery. In this next phase, I have three tests for you. If you successfully complete all three tests to my satisfaction, then the job is yours." "Tests? Great. Give me the keys, and I'll show you what I can do behind the wheel." "These are not driving tests. I am sure that you can drive a car. I checked your driving record with the Department of Motor Vehicles. And to tell you the truth, the Mercedes practically drives itself. Mr. Lowery, these are tests of your character." Tom shifted in his seat. "Character tests?" "Precisely. Each measures a different component of your personality. They are not too difficult, I assure you. But they do tell me if you are the type of person whom I want to bring into my home." "OK. Let's go." "I appreciate your enthusiasm, Mr. Lowery. Before we begin, let me remind you of the non-disclosure agreement that you signed previously. The terms of that agreement specifically cover every aspect of this interview, including the tests that you are about to undergo. Do you have any questions?" "No–none. Let's get started." Tom leaned forward in his seat, rubbing his palms on his knees. "One more thing, Mr. Lowery. You will only get one chance to complete each exercise. If you should fail the test or fail to complete it in the time allowed, then the interview will be terminated and you will be dismissed. You will not get a second chance–ever. Are we clear?" "Yes." "Excellent. Alright, Mr. Lowery, take off your pants and masturbate for me. You have fifteen minutes to ejaculate, starting now." "What? Is this a joke? You are kidding, right?" "You are wasting time, Mr. Lowery. I suggest that you get started immediately. If you refuse the test, or if you fail to complete the task on time, then I will have to ask you to leave and never return." "But..." "You are running out of time, and I am running out of patience. Either take your pants off or leave my office. Now." Tom hesitated. I need this. I'm on the verge of bankruptcy. I need to work. It's not a writing job, but the pay is better and I can still write in my spare time. It's almost too good to be true. Tom leaned forward and untied his shoes. He kicked them off his feet, stood up, and took off his pants and underwear. He wrapped his hand around his flaccid manhood and squeezed. "Sit down and make yourself comfortable. You have fourteen minutes remaining." Tom spread his legs in the padded chair and stroked his cock. It didn't respond. "Mr. Lowery, I appreciate the difficulty you are experiencing. This may help." Gwendolyn turned her computer so that the screen was facing Tom. She hit the 'enter' key and a video started playing. A naked, bosomy bottle-blonde woman was on her hands and knees while a tall, African-American man knelt behind her. He was also naked. The man worked his enormous cock into the woman's shaved pussy, and then fucked her at a furious pace. The woman responded to his thrusts immediately. Her lust-filled cries exploded from the speaker, filling the room with her pleasure. Tom felt his cock swell as the erotic action unfolded on the screen before him. "That's better, Mr. Lowery." Gwendolyn's eyes sparkled. "You have eleven minutes." Tom looked away from Gwendolyn and stared at the screen. Time was running out, and he had to focus on the task at hand without regard to his circumstances. He stroked his erect cock in an up and down motion, concentrating on the destination without regard to the journey. He preferred to take his time and prolong the pleasure, but Gwendolyn was not affording him that luxury. Tom looked up from the screen and glanced in Gwendolyn's direction. A mischievous smile crept across her face as she stared in the direction of Tom's groin. Through her parted lips Tom could just see the tip of her tongue as it flicked up and down behind her teeth. The old lady's enjoying this. I wonder if I it's my cock that she finds so interesting, or if she just likes watching younger men jack off. Maybe I should slow down and give her more of a show. Tom slowed his stroking and glanced back to the screen. No stranger to viewing porn, Tom recognized the video as an amateur production with unknown participants. The camera angles were all wrong for a professionally produced video. The actors were in positions that afforded maximum pleasure but less than optimal views of the woman's body and face, and her orgasms both looked and sounded genuine. Tom preferred amateur videos for that reason. Although not a fan of interracial porn, the action in this video was hot enough that Tom found himself hurtling toward self-induced ejaculation in record time. "Five minutes, Mr. Lowery." Tom glanced at Gwendolyn for a second. She was still staring at his crotch, but she was fidgeting in her chair. Both of her hands rested on top of the desk, but her polished fingernails clicked against the glossy wooden surface at irregular intervals. She's struggling not to move. She wants to touch herself. Or, maybe she's worried that I won't finish in time. Tom's erection swelled as he considered the older woman's apparent arousal. A slight smile creased his lips. The old cougar–hell, she's practically a saber-toothed tiger–likes younger prey. I"m not sure if that turns me on, or if it creeps me out. He returned his gaze to the screen. The black man slapped the blonde woman's ass, and then disengaged from her. The woman turned over and laid on her back with her legs sticking straight up in the air. Tom got his first good look at the woman's face. She's gorgeous. I could fuck that all night long. He stared at the screen as the man knelt between her legs, lifted her ankles onto his shoulders, and then speared her with his long, fat cock. The woman screamed as she urged her lover to fuck her harder and deeper with his enormous cock. The male performer looked somewhat familiar, but just as Tom was searching his memory for a match, the camera angle shifted away and focused on the blonde. Tom's cock swelled as the young woman's unadorned sexuality filled the screen. Her face was a mask of pure pleasure–her pale skin was flushed, beads of perspiration dotted her forehead, her eyes were squeezed shut, and her jaw was clenched in a rictus of lust. Tom knew that she was about to explode in a massive orgasm, and he was on pace to join her. "One minute," Gwendolyn panted. Tom glanced from the screen and saw that Gwendolyn also appeared flushed. She can't wait to see me shoot. I think she wants to cum, also. The blonde's grunts and groans filled the space between Tom's ears. He felt his cock swell and his balls contract. A load of semen shot up his shaft, exploded from the tip, and landed on the rug beneath his feet. He continued stroking as the camera panned down the woman's body, her chest heaving and her belly rising up and down while she sucked air into her lungs. The camera stopped at her gaping pussy, the shaved mound spread open as a river of semen flowed from within and spread out on the sheet beneath her buttocks. The last of Tom's load dripped onto the floor as the image on the screen dissolved to black. "Very good, Mr. Lowery," Gwendolyn gasped. "Well done. You finished just in time." Gwendolyn reached a trembling hand into the credenza behind her desk and pulled out a box of tissues. "Here you are." She handed the box to Tom. "Take some tissues and clean yourself up. When you are ready, we'll proceed to the next test." Tom reached for the box and set it on the table next to his chair. He grabbed a handful of tissues and cleaned the residual cum from his hands, cock and balls. "What about this mess on the floor?" he asked. "Don't worry, I'll have someone clean that up when we are through." "We are through, Mrs. Garrity. I don't know what that was all about, but it is no part of any interview process I have ever experienced. I'm no lawyer, but I'm pretty sure that was totally illegal." "Mr. Lowery, I admit that my methods are somewhat unconventional. However, bear in mind that this is an opportunity unlike any you have ever been offered. If we can come to terms, you will receive a generous salary while doing very little work, and you will be living in my home as a bonus. I am quite confident in stating that never again will you receive an offer like this one. Think very carefully before you turn it aside." "That may be true, Mrs. Garrity, but my dignity is not for sale at any price." "Mr. Lowery, everyone has a price. Everyone. We have already determined that your price is $50,000. I am prepared to meet that price. Tell me, is there anyone else making you a similar offer?" "You already know the answer to that question." Tom looked down at his shrinking cock. "No, no one has made me an offer anywhere close to that." "Very good. Shall we proceed to the next test?" "I'm sorry, Mrs. Garrity. I don't think that I am the person you are looking for to take this position." A tear formed in the corner of Tom's eye. He wiped it with a fresh tissue, and then leaned over and reached for his underwear and socks. This is just too weird. I need the job, but not like this. Gwendolyn opened the folder and took out another stack of papers. "Mr. Lowery, my attorneys prepared an employment contract with your name on it. It is dated with today's date and it takes effect at the conclusion of this interview. I anticipated your reluctance, so I made a counter-offer within the contract. If you will take a look at paragraph number four, you will see that the base salary is $55,000 per year, with annual cost of living increases and the opportunity for year-end bonuses. Of course, your cost of living is nothing since you will be living on my estate, but the point is that annual raises are already built into the agreement. In addition, I will pay off the balance on your current lease, bring your child support arrearage up-to-date, and provide manpower to move your possessions into your room. My signature is already on the last page. All you have to do, Mr. Lowery, is successfully complete the interview process and sign the agreement." Tom gulped. His head was spinning, and he wanted to throw up. This is all happening too fast. I need time to think this over. He tried to stand, but his legs wouldn't function. "Here is my pen, Mr. Lowery." Gwendolyn reached across the desk to hand the pen to Tom, but it slipped from her fingers, rolled off the desk, and fell to the floor. "I'm sorry, Mr. Lowery, would you pick up my pen for me?" Without stopping to consider his actions, Tom slid from his chair and crawled under the desk on his hands and knees. He located the pen a few inches from Gwendolyn's feet, picked it up, and raised his head. He wasn't prepared for what he saw next. Gwendolyn's knees were spread apart, providing an unobstructed view up her skirt–all the way to her naked crotch. Tom gulped. "Don't move, Mr. Lowery." "Ma'am?" "You heard me clearly enough. Mr. Lowery, tell me what you see." "I, uh, I see your gold pen next to your very expensive well-polished shoes. I think they are what my ex-wife called 'slingbacks.' Um, ah, they are resting on this very elegant Persian rug..." "Mr. Lowery, please don't lie to me." "I'm not lying, ma'am." "Mr. Lowery, I am not a stupid woman, and I would appreciate it very much if you stopped acting as though I am. You have already demonstrated to me that you are a young, healthy, heterosexual male. As such, you and I both know where you are looking. In fact, you are unable to look anywhere else. Your biology will not permit it. You are looking at my pussy, Mr. Lowery. Please don't deny it." "Yes ma'am." "Yes what?" "Yes, I am looking at your pussy, Mrs. Garrity." "Thank you for your honesty, Mr. Lowery. I expect nothing less from you." Tom started to back out from beneath the desk. "I assume this interview is now over?" he asked. "Not at all, Mr. Lowery. I would have been very disappointed if you were not looking up my skirt. And I would have been even more disappointed if you had continued to lie about it." "Then, was that the second test?" "Heavens no. Placing a pussy in front of your face and asking whether you can see it may be an interesting exercise for your optometrist, but it merely serves as the introduction to the next phase of this interview. For your next test, you are to lick my pussy until I attain orgasm. You have thirty minutes, starting now." class=WordSection2> "Mrs. Garrity?" "I believe I was quite clear, Mr. Lowery. Start licking me. You do know how to perform cunnilingus, don't you? Your wife didn't leave you because you refused to go down on her, did she?" "Uh, no." "Then stop wasting time. Unless you want me to tear this contract into pieces, have you escorted from my office, and driven to your soon-to-be dark and very warm home, then you will get started immediately. I am losing my patience, and when that happens my desire diminishes." This is insane. Or a bad dream. I'm being sexually harassed by a senior citizen. A wealthy senior citizen with a job opening–a job I can't turn down. I don't have any god damned choice. I just hope that dried up, fossilized old pussy can still cum. Gwendolyn reached under her chair and located the handle locking the back into place. She pulled the handle, reclined the chair, slid her hips to the edge of the seat, and spread her knees another six inches. Tom eyed the pink lips protruding from her sparse bush, closed his eyes, and crawled toward her. Starting at her knees, Tom kissed the insides of her thighs and worked his way toward her crotch. At least her legs are smooth, and they are still rather firm despite her age. Why shouldn't they be? She is still an attractive woman. Tom hesitated when he reached her pussy. He kissed all around her mound for several seconds, trying to work up the courage to make his final approach. She isn't as hairy as I expected, and she smells surprisingly fresh. "Twenty-five minutes, Mr. Lowery. I'll keep you updated on the time, since you can't see the clock from where you are." Well, here goes nothing. Tom extended his tongue and licked her inner lips. With the tip of his tongue making as little contact as possible, Tom licked up one side and down the other. He repeated this process several times, lengthening his stroke with every turn. "I like that, Mr. Lowery. It does seem as though you have done this before." Desperate Measures: The Driver Of course I've done this before. Eating pussy may not have been a popular thing to do back during the stone age when you were young, but times have changed. Tom held his breath and slipped his tongue between the folds of her pussy. Gwendolyn's nectar coated his tongue as he pushed it into her vagina. He stabbed it in and out of her several times, then licked his way to the top of her slit. "Very nice," Gwendolyn cooed. "I like your technique." Tom extended his tongue and the flicked the tip against Gwendolyn's clit. He swiped it across several times, flicking it from all directions. "Mmmm, that's it Mr. Lowery. Lick my clit. Just like that." Gwendolyn closed her thighs around Tom's skull. She reached both hands under the desk and pressed on Tom's head, pushing him deeper into her crotch. She tilted her hips and then raised them upward, increasing the friction of Tom's tongue on her tiny nub. "Mmmmmm, just like that. Don't stop. Don't stop. Don't...stop." Gwendolyn pushed on the back of Tom's head while she humped his face with her crotch. Tom licked her clit faster and faster, sucking the little button between his lips and swiping his tongue back and forth. "Twenty...minutes...Mr. ... Lowery," Gwendolyn panted. Tom sucked her clit for another minute, and then tilted his face downward. He licked the juice flowing from Gwendolyn's slit, pushed his tongue inside her, and then resumed his attack on her clit. He felt her pressing the back of his head into her crotch, while her hips rocked with increasing urgency. "Fifteen...minutes...to... ahhhhhhhhhhhhh..." she cried, "...go." Tom reached between his legs. He was surprised to find his cock was already hard again. He stroked it twice, and then let it go. I don't have time for that now. Tom slipped a finger between Gwendolyn's thighs and pushed it into her juicy hole. Damn! The old lady really gets wet. Gwendolyn clamped her thighs against Tom's head and squeezed. "There's... no need... to hurry." Gwendolyn sighed. "You're doing...uhn...fine." Gwendolyn eased the pressure on Tom's head. With the additional space to maneuver, Tom slid his finger in and out of her slippery tunnel. He probed the upper surface with his fingertip, searching for the rough patch of tender flesh that triggered so many of his ex-wife's orgasms. After several seconds of delicate probing, his finger found the hidden treasure. Gwendolyn's response was instantaneous. "Oh! Yes! That's it! Yes! I'm...cum...ming! Yes! Yes! Oh! Yes! Oh! Yes!" Gwendolyn gripped the edge of the desk with both hands. She pushed her hips forward, grabbed Tom's hair, and pushed his face against her crotch. She humped his face and his probing finger, easing herself from one orgasm into another. When her second orgasm started to fade, she let go of Tom's head and collapsed in the chair. Tom removed his finger from her pussy and backed away from her crotch. "I didn't tell you to stop, Mr. Lowery," Gwendolyn cautioned while pressing her thighs against Tom's head. "This test isn't over, yet." "Didn't you cum?" Tom asked, his voice muffled by Gwendolyn's smooth, trembling thighs. "Yes, I did. But I think I have one more in me. There's still ten minutes remaining on the clock. Let's see if you can help get the last one out." Tom took a deep breath, slid his hands under Gwendolyn's butt cheeks, pulled her crotch against his face, and then buried his tongue in her pussy. He licked her from top to bottom, then rolled his tongue into a cylinder and slid it in and out of her vagina. Gwendolyn rocked her hips back and forth, rubbing her clit against Tom's nose. "Ooooo! That's...yes! Don't stop. Just like that. Just..like... Unh! Yes!" Tom sucked her lips into his mouth, slid his tongue over every slippery surface he encountered, and then zeroed in on her clit. He paused to take a deep breath, and then sucked the nub between his lips. He flicked his tongue over and around it, attacking the little button of flesh from every angle at the same time. "Oh god! Oh yes! Mmmmmmm! Oh! Mmmmmmmm! Unh! Oh yessss!" Gwendolyn's thighs spread as wide as her bunched skirt would allow. She grabbed the back of Tom's head and pulled his face away from her crotch. "Enough! No more! I can't take any more! Enough!" Tom crawled out from under the desk. Gwendolyn closed her eyes and gasped for breath. When her breathing slowed almost to normal, she sat up and smiled. "Well done, Mr. Lowery, well done." "Did I pass?" "With flying colors. In fact, you may have earned the highest score ever on that particular test." "Now that you've gotten your jollies, would you mind telling me what this is all about?" "Very well. I usually wait until the formalities are completed before explaining the meaning behind this process, but so be it. "Mr. Lowery, as you can plainly see, I am not a young woman. I married my husband at the age of eighteen. Mr. Garrity was thirty-six years of age at the time. I was sexually inexperienced, but Mr. Garrity was not. In fact, I was still a virgin on my wedding night. I won't go into details, but it will suffice to say that our wedding night was a disaster. My trepidation and inexperience were the causes of that catastrophe. "It was several weeks before I had the courage to try again. Mr. Garrity was kind and patient, but the result was another debacle. I feared that I would never be able to perform my duty as a wife, and that my husband would cast me aside and return to his first wife. I was resolute in my determination to overcome my distaste for the sexual act, and to become the loving, sexually satisfying wife that my husband deserved. "It took me ten years to become comfortable with my sexuality. I was already in my late twenties when I finally learned to enjoy sexual relations and became adept at pleasing my husband. For the next five years we made love like newlyweds. We celebrated our love in every room of the house–as well as in the fields, in the groves, in the barns, on the machinery–there was nowhere on this property where we did not pleasure each other in one way or another. It was the happiest period of my life. "Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end, as they say. My husband's libido started to diminish just as my desire exploded. Our lovemaking dwindled from two or three times per day, to two or three times per week, to once a week, and finally to once or twice a month. There was no Viagra in those days, and I had no choice but to accept his reduced appetite for lovemaking. Of course, I had no problem finding privacy in an empty room in this house, and made due with self-gratification as my only means of sexual release. It was not as satisfying as my husband's attention, but it was something." "Did you take a lover?" "I was tempted, believe me. With all the farmhands and laborers on the property, there were always available candidates. But I did not wish to disrespect my husband, and so I never cheated on him. Of course, I did fantasize over many of the young men working for us. I often sat in this window and pleasured myself while watching the men, shirtless and sweating in the summer heat, unaware that while they were working on the farm I was flicking my bean and imagining all the things we could do to each other. I imagined them individually, in groups of two or three, or when I was particularly randy I imagined all of them taking their turns spilling their seed inside me. "But I digress. I was in my mid-thirties when my husband suffered a stroke. He was in the hospital for several months, and when he returned he was never the same. He recovered enough that he could still manage the farm, but he could no longer work the fields in a hands-on capacity. Even more devastating, he could no longer plow my field. I was thirty-six years old the last time I made love to my husband. "He held on for fourteen years, but he was never the same. Nonetheless, I remained faithful to him despite my growing sexual frustration. I believe that my husband recognized my sacrifice, and that is why he left nearly his entire estate to me. "Anyway, I honored his memory for a year. By the time that year had elapsed, I was fifty-one years of age and had not had sex with a man in fifteen years. Unfortunately, I was ill-equipped to begin dating. The first man I met bedded me in no time and just as quickly connived a plot to steal the estate from me. Fortunately, my husband's accountants were monitoring my finances and alerted me to his scam before he did any serious damage. "What happened to him?" "He's in prison now. He left a string of bankrupt widows from California to Florida. I would have been number seven on his list if not for the accountants." "Are these the same accountants who were responsible for the IRS problem?" "No. I hired a new firm to manage my finances after the IRS debacle. The former accounting firm was well-intentioned, but they still fucked up, if I may be blunt. The new firm found no evidence of graft–just the one enormous error." "I see." "After that, I decided to be much more careful with the men in my life. Nonetheless, I attracted one lout after another. I finally realized that I was happy being a widow–all I needed were occasional sex partners. My best years were behind me, but every once in a while I still desired sexual release. I decided to confine my sexual encounters to my household staff. If I employed single, unattached men and women of impeccable character, who would work for me by day and be available to me in the evening, all my problems would be solved." "Did you say men and women?" "Yes, I did." "When did you develop an interest in women?" "That was a relatively recent development, actually. A few years ago I was getting a massage at a day spa when I noticed my pussy becoming moist. The beautiful young South American masseuse continued working my buttocks and thighs, and the heat between my legs became hotter and hotter. Finally, I rolled over and asked her to finish me." "What did she do?" "She laughed, and then covered me with a towel. So I made it clear that I was a regular customer and a very big tipper. She reached under the towel and fingered me to an astonishingly violent orgasm. I had to roll up the towel and bite down on it to keep myself from screaming. I have enjoyed the company of women ever since." "Do you still see your masseuse?" "I did, until she quit and moved away." "Interesting." "Do you have any more questions, Mr. Lowery?' "Yes, I do. Let me see if I understand what you are saying. All of your household staff are also your occasional lovers, correct?" "Yes, Mr. Lowery, that is correct." "Does that include Wilson?" "Of course." "Ms. Webber?" "Yes." "How many others are on your staff?" "There is an upstairs maid and a downstairs maid. The cook and the serving girl. The pool boy. I had a handyman, but when he resigned I decided not to replace him." "So, that's four men and four women, including the driver?" "Precisely." "How often do you require the bedroom services of your staff?" "It varies, but I try to spend some private time with each of them at least once per month. Sometimes more, sometimes less. There are also times when I loan the staff to guests. I have procured some rather sizeable donations to the Foundation after sharing members of my staff with a potential donor." "I have just one more question." "Go ahead." "Could you explain to me why anyone would leave your employ? The handyman left, and the previous driver resigned? Why?" "That's easy, Mr. Lowery. I require that my staff remain single. I don't care if you have outside relationships, so long as they don't interfere with your duties. But should you decide to get married, I will have to let you go. It's that simple." "I see. Well, I guess you have made me an offer that I can't refuse. Hand me that contract, and I'll sign." "Here's the contract." Gwendolyn handed a bound stack of papers to Tom. "I believe you already have a pen. Hold on a second while I call Ms. Webber in to witness." Gwendolyn picked up the phone, and less than a minute later Cynthia walked through the door with a briefcase in one hand. Tom looked her over once again as she set the briefcase on the floor next to Gwendolyn's chair. "Nice to see you again, Ms. Webber," Tom said. "Thank you, Mr. Lowery. I'm very happy that you will be joining our staff." "How long have you worked here?" "I joined the staff a little over two years ago." "Was your interview process..." "The interview process is identical for all of my household staff, Mr. Lowery," Gwendolyn interjected. "I see." A bulge formed in Tom's pants as he imagined Cynthia sitting in the same chair that he occupied, her legs spread and her hands at work bringing herself to orgasm. His cock reached full erection when he pictured Cynthia beneath the desk on her hands and knees, her face buried in Gwendolyn's pussy. "We're waiting, Mr. Lowery." Gwendolyn's gentle rebuke snapped Tom out of his fantasy. He cleared his throat, skipped to the last page, and signed the agreement. He handed the gold pen to Cynthia, who once again bent over the desk and added her signature on the indicated line. She stood up, replaced the pen in the marble pen holder, and slid the agreement across the desk to Gwendolyn. "That will be all, Ms. Webber," Gwendolyn said. Cynthia turned and left the room. "So, do I stay here tonight, or is Wilson going to drive me home now? Do I get a tour of the grounds? Can I see my room?" "Not so fast, Mr. Lowery. There is still the matter of the third test. Once you complete the final exercise, you will be welcomed to my staff. Should you fail, however, you will be driven home and you will never hear from me again. Do you understand?" "Yes ma'am. No problem. Should we go to the sofa, or would you prefer it bent over the desk?" "You're being presumptuous, Mr. Lowery. Bent over the desk is indeed what I have in mind, but I will not be the one bowed over the furniture." Gwendolyn stood up and reached for the zipper on the side of her skirt. She pulled it down, stepped out of the garment, and folded it over the back of her chair. Tom admired her smooth, toned legs and her glistening pussy visible beneath the neatly trimmed bush. "Excuse me? I'm confused." "Allow me to clarify matters for you." Gwendolyn replaced the papers in the folder, and then moved the folder to the corner of the desk. She picked up the brief case, set it in the center of the desk, and opened it. She reached in, removed a small tube, and then handed it to Tom. "Start lubing yourself up. You're going to need it." Tom froze in his place. Neither his legs nor his arms seemed to work. His slack jaw and opened eyes revealed the extent of his dismay. After several seconds he managed to squeeze some lube onto his palm and apply it to his erect cock. "When you're finished, hand me the tube. I like to apply a little myself before we get started." Gwendolyn stepped out from behind the desk with a leather harness attached to a long, slender phallus-shaped implement in her hand. "Whoa! What's that for?" "Use your imagination, Mr. Lowery. I can only think of one purpose." Gendolyn stepped through the leg openings and fastened the harness around her waist. "You aren't using that thing on me. No way. Unh-uh." "Mr. Lowery, all that is standing between poverty and financial security for yourself is fifteen more minutes of your time and eight inches of vinyl. Surely, you aren't going to throw away this opportunity over eight slender inches of vinyl, are you?" "That thing is not going up my ass. No way." "If you prefer, I could have Wilson administer the test. He's a bit bigger, I'm afraid, and quite a bit stronger. His method of testing is–how should I say it–more robust than mine. The choice is yours." "No. I'm going home. Call me a cab. I don't want anything more to do with you people." "Mr. Lowery, you disappoint me. We were so close to reaching a deal. After you did so well on the first two tests I was really looking forward to you joining our team. Is there anything I can do to change your mind?" "Yes, Mrs. Garrity. Call off the testing." "That's not an option, Mr. Lowery. All of my employees have been tested in the same way. It wouldn't be fair to them if I were to exempt you from the requirements of the job." "How is it that you fucking me in the ass is a requirement of the job?" "Mr. Lowery, I have developed an interest in various sexual practices. Some might call them deviant sexual practices. No matter, I overpay my staff so that they will be available to me whenever I want to indulge my interests. If you cannot meet my needs, then I have no use for you." "But..." Gwendolyn opened the folder and pulled out a check. "Mr. Lowery, here is a check made out to you in the amount of $4583.33, minus required deductions for income taxes, FICA, etc. This is your first month's paycheck. I am paying you for the entire month, even though you would not be starting until the fifteenth. All you have to do is pass the final test." Tom stared at the check. His face reddened and he started to sweat. "I can't. I'm not a fag." "It doesn't matter to me whether you are or you are not a homosexual, Mr. Lowery. This is not a test of your manhood. I have never hurt anyone, but I now have enemies–starting with my late husband's children and their mother. I have to know if I can trust you. This is a test of your loyalty and fidelity. It is a test of your willingness to do whatever it takes to please me. It is the ultimate test of your character, Mr. Lowery. Nothing more than that." "But... Gwendolyn reached into the folder one more time and retrieved another check. "This check is made out to you in the amount of $5000. Consider it a signing bonus. It is my final offer. There is close to $10,000 dollars on the table in front of you. That's $9000 more than you had this morning. You must make a choice, Mr. Lowery, and you must make it now. Either pick up the checks and join my staff, or take your clothes and walk out that door with what you brought here. What's it going to be, Mr. Lowery?" "I..." "Decide now, Mr. Lowery. How are you going to support your children if you walk away from this opportunity?" Tom's face twisted in agony. My kids. They aren't going to have health insurance in another week. Dammit, she knows my weakness. "Can I..." "No. All you can do is choose." Tom's knuckles were white from wringing his hands. I'll never be able to pay for their college if I don't start working again. "But..." "We're done, Mr. Lowery. I'm sorry." "Wait. Alright. I'll do it." Tom walked over to the desk, bent at the waist, and pressed his face against the hard surface. His naked ass was pointing in Gwendolyn's direction. "Have you sufficiently lubricated yourself?" Gwendolyn asked. "Just a second." Tom squeezed another dollop of clear gel into his palm and applied it to his anus. "Let's get this over with. Please be gentle." "I assure you, Mr. Lowery, I am not a brute. I'm a sixty-two year old widow. Now, relax." Gwendolyn stood behind Tom and pressed the tip of her plastic penis against Tom's anus. "There's a timer on the computer screen. When you're ready, just hit enter with your dry hand, take a deep breath, and let it out slowly." Tom followed her instructions. A timer displaying "15:00" appeared on the computer screen, and then started counting backward. Gwendolyn placed her hands on Tom's hips and pushed. "Oh god! Fuck!" "Relax, Mr. Lowery, it will only hurt for a minute or two."