1 comments/ 24922 views/ 0 favorites Getting The Story By: BadBoyA Mike Bodine was only 18, but had always enjoyed writing. To make extra money for college he had been doing freelance work, but his dream was to write for a publication like the N. Y. Times or the Washington Post. In his small town, there weren't many opportunities for good stories, but that didn't stop him from trying. One day he was reading the local newspaper and read a story about a prominent local banker, Charlie Campbell, who was found dead in his office. The police labeled it suspicious, but there were no suspects. The feeling around town was that his wife, Tapi, was involved. A former Las Vegas showgirl who was 20 years younger than her husband and loved to flaunt her wealth, she stood to gain the bulk of her husband's multi-million dollar estate. There was also talk that he had tired of her spending habits and wanted a divorce. She refused to give any interviews and always referred any inquiries to her lawyer. Mike smiled to himself when he realized how much he could make if he could get an interview. Instead of calling, he decided he would have a better chance if he showed up in person. Walking up to the old, Victorian house, Mike admired the well-manicured lawn and garden. He lifted the antique brass knocker and knocked several times. He was a little nervous as he waited, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Suddenly he caught a glimpse of someone peeking through the lace curtains, and then disappearing. The door opened slowly and a plump, but attractive middle-aged woman appeared, looking puzzled. "I guess you're not the delivery guy," she said disappointingly. "My name is Mike Bodine," said Mike, shrugging his shoulders. "What can I do for you Mike Bodine, she said smiling?" "I'm a freelance writer and I would like to talk to you about your husband's death." At that she began to close the door when Mike shouted "PLEASE" The door closed in his face, but he kept talking, hoping she would hear him. "Mrs. Tyler, I just want to get your side of the story." There was only silence. Taking a deep breath, he said, "I don't believe you did it!" Five minutes passed, and then Mike came to the conclusion that he blew it and slowly descended the steps. As he went down the walkway he froze in his tracks as he heard, "wait Mr. Bodine!" Mike returned to the door quickly, trying not to look too anxious. "Do you really believe I didn't do it," she said softly. "Come in," she beckoned, leading him into the living room before he had a chance to respond. As Mike followed, he couldn't help but notice the way her full hips swayed beneath the flowered dress she wore.. He guessed that she was about 5' 7", which was short compared to his 6' 4" frame. He sat upon a loveseat while she settled into a matching easy chair. Mike glanced at her large breasts which he assumed were probably a product of plastic surgery along with her face which was much smoother than one would expect on a woman of 45 years. "Mr. Bodine, despite what this town believes, I did not kill my husband," Tapi said defiantly. "Why do you think so many people believe you did, Mrs. Tyler?" "Please, call me Tapi," she said, slightly smiling. "Tapi, may I tape this interview?" "Can we just talk without it for awhile please?" Mike reluctantly agreed because he didn't want to do anything to make her have second thoughts about speaking to him. "Everyone hated me from the moment I married Charlie. They called me gold-digger and said I wasn't good enough for him. I didn't care because I loved him, even though I was 40 and he was 70. Yes, I like nice things; is there anything wrong with that?" Suddenly she moved from the easy chair to the loveseat, sitting opposite Mike. "Michael, I'm really not a bad person," she said softly, her blue eyes looking directly into his. "You're the first person in this town to tell me they believe me." Without warning, she wrapped her arms around Mike's neck tightly, knocking his pen and pad from his hands. "Michael, you have no idea how hard it has been, she whispered into his ear. "I've been here all alone, afraid of being charged with something I didn't do." Wrapping her hands around his neck, she pleaded......"hold me Michael, please." Mike was confused, wanting to push her away and continue with the interview, but also not wanting to appear unfeeling. Slowly, he lightly embraced Tapi, feeling her move even closer. He expected her to start crying, but to his surprise she began to kiss his cheek, first softly, then more passionately. Mike felt his heart begin to race as the scent of her perfume filled his nose and her body pressed into his. "Tapi," he said, wanting her to stop, "may I as you something?" She ignored his words, her warm mouth planting kisses along the side of his neck. Mike felt a sense of relief when her arms released their hold, but then he took a deep breath when her hand quickly moved to his shirt, releasing each button before pushing it open and sliding her fingers up and down his muscular chest. Mike squirmed as Tapi eagerly slid her mouth to his chest, blazing a trail of kisses from one nipple to the other, licking and gently biting, teasing him over and over. Mike clenched his square jaw, wondering what to do next, but he found it hard to think, his mind distracted by the sensations caused by this woman. Before he could devise a plan, Tapi slid to her knees, positioned herself between Mike's legs, pushing them apart, and began to kiss his belly as her fingers easily unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock, which was already semi-erect. Mike sat transfixed as he looked down at her. He'd never been with and older woman or any woman this assertive. Her warm, moist tongue teased his belly button, kissing is very slowly while her plump fingers slid up and down his shaft until it was stiff. Mike reached down to take Tapi's face in his large hands, but when he tilted her head to look at him he could not bring himself to tell her to stop. The words seemed to stick in his throat. She looked into his blue eyes, smiled with her blood-red lips, pushed his hands away and lowered her mouth to the head of his manhood. Mike felt his whole body tingle when her tongue slid around the rim, then across the swollen head. A moan escaped his lips when she took it in into her mouth and sucked lightly. He knew now he didn't want her to stop. The interview was no longer that important to him. Tapi's mouth slowly slid down the length of Mike's thick pole, her tongue sliding along the large vein at its base. Mike's eyes widened as he watched her take his entire cock into her throat. None of the women he'd been with had ever been able to swallow all of him, and those that tried, ended up gagging. His hands slid through her blonde hair as she sucked him whole for a few seconds, then began to move up and town his throbbing member. As she went faster, Mike thrust upward, fucking her hot mouth again and again. Suddenly, she stopped, stood, hiked her dress to her waist, quickly removed black lace panties and mounted him. Mike inhaled deeply as he felt his cock slide completely into her juicy pussy. Tapi sat motionless for a minute, savoring the feeling of his cock filling her. She watched his expression as she unbuttoned the front of her dress, revealing a black lace bra. Mike felt his mouth water as she released her 36D breasts. Taking hold of his shoulders, she leaned forward, just enough to allow him to suck her nipples. As his mouth hungrily fed on her ripe buds, she moaned and began to rise and fall on his stiff rod. The harder he sucked, the faster she pumped, slamming harder and harder until her cream began run down his shaft. In seconds the room was filed with the sounds of their ecstasy. Like two frenzied dancers, they held tight to one another, pushing themselves toward a perfect ending Mike's fingers suddenly sunk into her soft flesh as his orgasm took hold. Her back arched as his hot spray triggered her own release. She continued to pump hard and fast, her head thrown back and screaming until she was spent, then collapsed upon him. He held her tightly, their bodies trembling as they tried to catch their breaths. After several minutes, Tapi rose, letting Mike's cock slide from her, picked up his pen and pad, handed it to him and said in a matter-of –fact tone, "My lawyer says I can't do interviews; will you show yourself out Michael." With that, she picked up her panties, smiled, and walked to the large circular staircase, ascending it slowly. Mike watched her until she was out of sight, realizing he had been used. As Mike shut the heavy wooden doors behind him, he felt the warm spring breeze on his face and smiled. This was one story that would not be sold, but be restricted to his private journal and he would recall it over and over again. Getting the Story "Callahan!" Instinctively, the young reporter jumped at the sound of her editor's voice as he entered his office. She grabbed a notepad and pen, nearly fell over her chair, and scurried across the room. "What is it?" she asked at the doorway. "Sit down." The order wasn't even combined with a gesture, one of Phil Gibbons' most annoying habits, she thought to herself. "The CFO of Lilt Financial was just indicted. I want you to do this one. It's big, Callahan," Gibbons said emphatically. "Bigger than anything you've done for us. Want it?" Lindsay Callahan looked up from her notepad, nodding at the same time. "Of course." Gibbons looked at her as if giving her one more chance to think it over. When she didn't blink, he said, "Have the guys in Business help you if you need it. They should know her." "Her?" "Yeah. A babe CFO. No wonder the economy's in the can," he said without a hint of remorse. Lindsay fought back a chuckle, angered by the aging editor's unrelenting sexism. "I'll get on it." Almost to the door, she turned and added, "Thanks." Somehow she knew he'd be watching her. He always watched her. She was used to having men stare at her near-perfect twenty five year old body. But his was a perverted gawking every time they crossed paths. 'Pig,' she mumbled under her breath once outside his office. Back at her desk, Lindsay allowed the magnitude of her assignment to sink in. In her six months with the paper she'd never been given a story any more interesting than a suspicious house fire. Even that turned out to be nothing more than an overly curious cat who learned the hard way not to chew on electrical wires. Now she was faced with real news. She'd have to do her homework. Lilt Financial was big in town...real big. She knew that much, but the actual players and inner workings would have to be studied. And she didn't have much time. Lindsay's first call was to Jim Adams, the paper's beat writer at the court. He'd know the process and maybe the name of somebody who could give her some inside information. Her presumption was right. In fifteen minutes she had the phone number of the lead investigator in the case and Caroline Hunter's attorney. But first, some research was in order regarding Lilt's Chief Financial Officer. A quick search of the paper's picture archive resulted in numerous shots of Caroline Hunter. Each one made Lindsay stare even more intently at her computer monitor. Ms. Hunter was one of the most stunning women she'd ever seen. She stopped at one particular photo which showed the CFO at a crowded formal affair. Caroline stood with a drink in one hand, talking cheerfully to three men in tuxes. Her long gown accentuated every faultless curve of the tall woman's body. Tiny straps drew Lindsay's eyes down to a plunging neckline, highlighting a pair of full, firm breasts that Ms. Hunter obviously had no qualms about displaying. The midriff of the gown was pulled in to showcase Caroline's flat stomach and tiny waist. Below that, the fabric followed the swerve of her hips and ass, and then flowed to her ankles. 'How old is this woman?' Lindsay asked herself silently. A second search for stories related to Hunter revealed she was forty one. Botox was the first word that popped into Lindsay's head, but further examination of a dozen pictures of Caroline Hunter convinced her the woman was all natural. 'Bitch. Serves you right,' Lindsay thought, dismayed a little by her sudden jealousy. Which reminded her that she needed to get moving on the most important matter at hand: What did the gorgeous Caroline Hunter do to raise the ire of the authorities? The lead investigator basically read from the prosecutor's news release: ten counts; securities fraud and conspiracy; tax evasion; forgery. Ms. Hunter likely did not act alone. The investigation continues. No further comment. Persistent questioning by Lindsay was met with increased levels of frustration by the investigator until the young reporter chose not to push it any farther, in case she needed this guy later. She thanked him and dialed the attorney for Caroline Hunter. "My client will be proven innocent of all counts in the indictment," Charles Hood told Lindsay immediately after she introduced herself. "In fact, it's our intention that this case never go to trial. The evidence and testimony used before the grand jury concentrated solely on Ms. Hunter. She was a pawn, manipulated by people at Lilt Financial to conceal their own illegalities." "Who would that be, Mr. Hood?" Lindsay asked. "Needless to say, we can't name those names at this time," Charles Hood said with all due solemnity. "But given a chance to respond to these indictments, the truth will be known. And the truth is: Caroline Hunter was USED." Five additional questions by Lindsay resulted in a dozen variations of the attorney's previous remarks. Sensing a dead-end, she ended the interview. But Mr. Hood's unrelenting pointing towards others within Lilt Financial forced Lindsay to pull up their web site and, eventually, a copy of an annual report. She got names and titles, but that wasn't what she was after. Lindsay needed to put faces with the names. She called Julie Wells in Business, an occasional drinking partner with Lindsay and overall straight shooter. A promise from Lindsay to buy two rounds the next time they went out produced an e-mail from Julie containing pictures of every officer and board member at Lilt. It was worth the price, Lindsay decided. She began to scan the montage, beginning with CEO Charles Oster. Lindsay had already decided she would attempt to talk to him first. When she saw the tall, surprisingly young looking man standing by his desk overlooking the city, her decision was reinforced. In fact, it might now require an in-person interview. Next was the ever-lovely Caroline Hunter in a glamour shot that would have made any aspiring model proud. Assorted VPs and Directors followed, mostly middle-aged white males except, of course, for the HR and Marketing Directors. Then the Board of Directors were shown individually and in a group. Nothing about the pictures seemed out of place to Lindsay. None of the names caught her eye: Mark Abel, Barry Black, Nelson Eldridge...a baker's dozen people she knew nothing about...yet. She sighed, filed the e-mail in the appropriate folder for future reference, and made up her mind to get hold of the boss. Lindsay was amazed that she was put on hold by the secretary in her first attempt to reach Charles Oster. Surely, the secretary would come back and ask if she could take a message. Instead, Lindsay was being transferred to him in less time that it took her to open a diet Mountain Dew. "Charles Oster." The booming voice caught Lindsay by surprise. "Hello. Mr. Oster, this is Lindsay Callahan of The Journal. May I ask you a couple questions about the Caroline Hunter indictment today?" "Certainly," he replied. Lindsay took a deep breath. "Mr. Oster, what can you tell me about Ms. Hunter?" Charles Oster smiled to himself. It wasn't the question he expected and appreciated the approach taken by what sounded like a very young reporter. "Well, she'll be missed by this company until the situation is settled. I know very little about the details of the case and can't comment on the specifics, but Caroline was...is...a fine CFO." "What details DO you know?" Lindsay asked. There was a pause. "I'm afraid I really can't say." "Mr. Oster, her attorney told me today that, quote, she was a pawn, manipulated by people at Lilt Financial to conceal their own illegalities, end quote. How do you respond to that?" "Is that what he said? Really?" Charles Oster asked. "Interesting." "What do you think he meant by that?" Lindsay inquired, not expecting any CEO in his right mind to answer with anything substantial. "Ms...Callahan, did you say? Perhaps we need to do this somewhere besides over the phone. I hope you understand." It didn't matter if Lindsay understood or not, she jumped at the chance to get a face-to-face interview with Charles Oster. While trying to hide her enthusiasm, she replied, "Sure. If you're more comfortable with that—when and where do you suggest?" "We should do it here; not in public. I'll find a conference room. Are you available at...let's say, three o'clock tomorrow afternoon?" Oster said. Lindsay made herself available. "Yep. Should I come to your office?" "Well, you won't get past the first receptionist. Just tell them you have an appointment with me." "OK. Three tomorrow," Lindsay confirmed. She couldn't help but think she was on to something. The CEO's sudden desire to tell her something, but not have it captured on a potentially bugged phone, excited her. If she had to admit it, the idea of meeting him in the first place excited her. Could he be as good looking as he was in the photos? Lindsay reported to work the next day in her best black slacks, which hugged every curve of her tight ass and youthful thighs. Her blouse was sheer and taut around her generous chest. She spent extra time fixing her blonde hair and applying just the right makeup. Basically, everything she would never do for a normal day at work. The morning crept by and she barely ate at lunch, nervously anticipating the 'showdown' with Mr. Oster. At two forty-five she headed out the door for the short walk to the corporate offices of Lilt Financial. As expected, she was stopped at the first desk by an efficient, if not overly friendly, receptionist who had Lindsay sit while she phones the CEO's secretary. Less than five minutes later, the young reporter was sitting in a plush conference room, admiring the paintings and expensive furniture. She stood to get a closer look at one particular painting. Her back was to the door when it opened noisily, causing her to jerk her body around clumsily. She didn't know if Charles Oster recognized her embarrassed look or her gaze of approval. All she knew was, the man entering the room was perhaps the most attractive forty year old man she'd ever seen. "Ms. Callahan? I'm Charles Oster." He strode towards her, holding out his hand. She took it while thanking him for taking the time to meet with her. All the while, absorbing with her eyes his dark features, gorgeous eyes and sturdy frame. "Please sit down," he said, gesturing to one of the gigantic, high backed chairs. Lindsay felt as if it swallowed her as she sat, grabbing her notepad at the same time. She crossed her legs and tried to breathe normally before saying, "Mr. Oster..." "It's Charles. Please." Lindsay smiled faintly and nodded. "OK. Charles, I know you're busy so I'll only keep you a short while. But I have several questions for you after talking to Caroline Hunter's attorney." "Yes. He made some interesting accusations in your discussion with him, it sounded like. But let's set some ground rules, Lindsay, if I may call you that." The reporter nodded. "I'm not naïve enough to believe I can ask you to keep certain things off the record. So I'll ask this. If I give you certain information that could have come to you from any number of sources, do you agree to not associate my name with the information?" he asked Lindsay. She nodded. "Fine. But don't be offended if I ask you when I can or cannot use your name." "Agreed," Oster said. "Now, let me tell you this about Caroline Hunter, which most anybody can tell you." Lindsay understood his meaning and returned his inquisitive glance with one of acceptance. He continued: "Caroline, as you may or may not know, is a very attractive woman. She's also a very smart woman. It's not uncommon for smart, attractive women in executive positions to be accused of using their...well, their sexuality, to gain favors. Caroline Hunter took it to another level." He paused apparently for effect, and Lindsay looked up from her notepad and raised her eyebrows in response. She suspected she caught him looking at the substantial opening at the top of her blouse, but gave him the benefit of the doubt for now. He went on: "It was more than a game with her. It was an art form that resulted in her becoming one of the most highly compensated CFO's in this state, if not the entire country, despite the size of our company. Her salary was not the entirety of it, Lindsay. She got benefits no other CFO could every dream of getting." Oster leaned forward in her chair. The tone of his voice reminded Lindsay of a master storyteller, but she had to admit he had her attention. "Obviously, I was concerned," he said, leaning back once again. "I began paying more attention to her associations within the company both during working hours and when she was away from the office." Lindsay looked up. "You spied on her?" Charles smiled, almost to the point of laughing. "Now that's a strong word to use, Lindsay. And I didn't say that. I paid more attention." "What did you find?" Lindsay asked next. The grin on his face made Lindsay believe she had fallen into Oster's trap. "It's amazing what people, especially men, will tell you about women when they've had a little too much to drink," he said. "And after a while it quit surprising me that so many men had similar stories about Caroline. They normally went something like this." Another pause succeeded in getting Lindsay's undivided attention. "Caroline would get the object of her immediate need in an office or conference room...alone. The two of them would talk serious business for a few minutes. Then Caroline would turn the conversation in a more casual direction," Oster said. "She would hint at favors few men would, or could, refuse from a woman like her. She was known to willingly show skin in excess." With that remark, Oster rose from his chair and walked slowly behind Lindsay. She watched him with growing trepidation, but made no outward movement to reveal it. "Imagine, Lindsay, a middle-aged or older man being tempted by the beautiful and powerful Caroline Hunter," he said. Lindsay was just about to turn her head when she felt his hands on her shoulders, caressing them with strong fingers. He massaged her, pulling on the material of her blouse at the same time. "She would openly flirt with them, seeming to offer her body to them if the right deal could be struck." Oster's hands slid down Caroline's arms even as she tried to take notes. He pulled his hands back up until they were on her neck, under the blouse. "All of the guys I talked to—every one of them, Lindsay—told me they eventually received some sort of sexual gratification from her." His hands moved down Lindsay's chest until reaching the first button of her blouse. He opened it casually. "Sometimes it was as little as a feel under her skirt, or a touch of her breast." At the moment he said it, Oster's fingers slid on top of Lindsay's breast and under the thin material of her bra. Lindsay made no attempt to continue taking notes. Her heart pounded and she feared he HAD to feel it. "The lucky ones, Lindsay—the ones she really, really needed something from—got more." Both of Oster's hands were inside her bra, the fingers searching out and finding her nipples. He squeezed them and pinched them tighter when Lindsay let out a gasp. She tried to will them not to harden, but her body revolted and Oster felt the buds grow stiffer. "It's hard to say who got the better of these deals, Lindsay. Certainly, Caroline Hunter was a sex addict and conniving manipulator of men. But the men clearly gained as well. Need I explain?" Caroline shook her head, all but unable to speak. Oster kneaded her breasts one last time before pulling out his hands and re-buttoning her blouse. "So, you see, Lindsay, Caroline Hunter was not the little angel she may have appeared to be," Oster said, returning to his chair and looking the reporter in the eyes for the first time since the groping. Lindsay screamed at herself inside for allowing it to happen. However, the moisture in her pussy screamed something else. The aching nipples bulging against her bra said even more. "How many men and who were they?" she asked in a weak voice. Oster smiled in a manner that Lindsay knew foretold a non-answer was imminent. "Ah, if I only could. Perhaps we need to meet again someday, Lindsay." So many things flashed through the young reporter's mind that she could hardly keep up with them. This story could make or break her career. She needed this guy to talk. But what was she willing to pay for it? Could she separate her personal feelings from her professional responsibilities? "Perhaps," she finally answered. "Can I call you if I have follow-up questions?" "I'm sure you will," he said with confidence. She hated him. She hated his power. She hated how he had touched her. She hated the fact she wanted to call him as soon as she got back to her desk. ### Lindsay spent one more day attempting to find somebody, anybody willing to fill in more details about Caroline Hunter. Or possibly, but not likely, confirm Charles Oster's claims. It became evident to her that Oster was, in fact, her primary source at the moment. The good and bad aspects of that fact weighed heavily on her mind. She could simply follow the legal proceedings and write a series of perfectly acceptable stories regarding Hunter's indictment and trial; or, she could chase Oster deeper into the inner workings of Lilt. But at what cost? As it became obvious that the other executives, including the entire Board of Directors, were not going to be as forthcoming as Oster, the question kind of answered itself. She needed him. "Charles Oster, please," Lindsay said when she made the call. "Who may I tell him is calling." "Lindsay Callahan of The Journal." "One moment please." The music lasted less than a minute. "Hello, Lindsay." The friendly tone of his voice should not have surprise Lindsay. But it did and she stumbled on her response. "Uh, hello Mr. Os...Charles. Thank you for taking my call." "It must be important," he said with sincerity that sickened Lindsay. "What can I do for you?" "I'd like to schedule a second meeting with you if I can?" she said. She could have sworn she heard him smile that revolting smile. "I'll have to check my calendar, Lindsay. What do you want to discuss?" "Caroline Hunter." Oster countered with, "What more is there to say?" "To be honest, Charles, nobody will confirm your story. Don't worry. I never mentioned your name, but the gist of your accusations have been unsubstantiated so far," Lindsay said, gaining confidence. "I need names and places. I need facts, Charles." "You're asking me to rat on some of my best friends and colleagues, Lindsay," he said. "Bullshit!" Lindsay exclaimed, deciding to risk it all but suspecting Charles Oster wasn't going anywhere. "You can either give me more details or you can wait for it all to come out in Hunter's trial. She's ready to lay this in your lap and you know it." The pause was brief. "It's not my lap she laid in. But if you want to meet, we can discuss that." She didn't believe him for an instant, but if she could get just one confirmable story out of him it would be worth it. "So what does your calendar look like?" she asked. Lindsay heard him pounding on the keyboard of his computer. A few seconds later he said, "Tuesday afternoon. One o'clock. But it has to be my place. I don't trust anybody, anywhere at this point." Lindsay's heart was in her throat. The consequences seemed clear, but the choice was even more obvious. "Give me the address," she said. When it seemed the conversation was ending, Lindsay added: "I want a specific name of a specific Lilt executive who did a specific thing with Caroline Hunter so that one of them gained something substantial." Getting the Story "We'll discuss it, Lindsay." The dial tone that followed made her shout "Fuck" loud enough to be heard through half the office. Lindsay Callahan would generally die before wearing a skirt. She owned two. A longer, fuller one for weddings and funerals. A shorter, tighter one for clubbing with Julie. On Tuesday she wore the latter along with a v-neck sweater and no bra. She wanted details from Charles Oster. Lindsay had never been in a gated community before. She wasn't sure the surly guy at the gate would let her and her battered Honda Civic in. But after accommodating his prolonged, blatant looks down her sweater, she was allowed to enter. Where Lindsay grew up, there were five houses to every acre. Here, there was one house for every five acres. The driveways were tree-lined and long enough to have their own street names. Luckily, the extravagant mail boxes had numbers and Lindsay eventually found the Oster mansion. The semicircular drive enclosed a pond inhabited by ducks she could only assume were wild, but Lindsay wasn't betting on it. All around her, towering trees let just enough sunlight in while, at the same time, providing a totally isolated atmosphere. As she got out of her car, the magnitude of the house itself finally struck her. The brick exterior reminded her of the old courthouses she had seen in New England villages. However, the Oster residence was much, much more massive. On either side of the center door windows seemingly stretched forever. She could only imagine what was in the back, unseen up to this point. Lindsay pressed the doorbell, taking it for granted nobody ever snuck up on the Oster front door without being observed first by some elaborate security system. It surprised her when Charles Oster himself opened the door and welcomed her. Perhaps she expected a butler or maid from having watched too many old movies. Regardless, she found herself inside the mansion, trying not to act like a kid entering the gates of Disney World for the first time. "I'm sorry we couldn't do this over the phone or at my office, Lindsay," Charles said as he lead his guest deeper inside the house. "But I think you understand that I'm a little paranoid right now." "I understand," she replied, refraining from asking the obvious question of why he should feel that way. They entered a lush family room with huge windows overlooking another pond in the back and additional wooded paradise. The entire room looked like it was transplanted from the most expensive furniture store she'd ever been in. The couches, chairs and tables were natural, but elegant. The various paintings and wall coverings were perfect highlights. "Have a seat," Charles said. "You have a very nice house," Lindsay said, placing her notepad on top of her crossed legs. "It's all Helen's handiwork. I have no creativity when it comes to design," he said, apparently referring to Mrs. Oster. Lindsay allowed herself a split second to think about what Helen Oster thought of Caroline Hunter. An image of two competing beauty queens awkwardly smiling at each other on stage came to mind. Then she said, "Join the club. I could never do this." "Can I get you anything?" Charles asked politely, making no effort to leave his chair. "No, thanks. I won't keep you long." "Actually, it's alright. We're alone," he said. "We have lots of time." His grin was not as comforting for Lindsay as he probably supposed it to be. She opened her notepad and asked, "Can we begin?" "Of course." "Charles, why do you think Caroline Hunter's attorney was so emphatic about saying she was used?" Lindsay said. Charles leaned back in his chair and looked out the immense windows, and then turned back to Lindsay. "Caroline had a unique influence over people. Her intelligence was unquestionable. Her knowledge of the financial markets was undeniable. All of that paled in comparison to her sensuality. Men who were otherwise highly qualified and professional turned into jello around her. I watched colleagues have tantrums about a financial matter privately, and then find themselves unable to adequately express a single objection in front of Caroline." Lindsay nodded. "So it should come as no surprise to you that certain men within the organization attempted to, uh, hook up with her," Charles added. When he paused for Lindsay's acknowledgement, she asked, "Were you one of them?" He chuckled. "The thought crossed my mind. But the line was too long." "Who was first in line, or at least who was first to succeed?" Without wavering, Charles said, "That would have been a former VP. He'll go nameless. He's not with the firm anymore and he's irrelevant to the current situation. Except for the manner in which he approached Caroline and how she handled it." Lindsay jotted down a few key words and looked up at the CEO, who said, "This guy's mission was clear to everyone from the start. I guess he considered her some kind of prize and that we'd all respect him or something if he got her. Anyway, he was pretty open about his intentions and Caroline led him on, most certainly with no goal of ever making it a long-term relationship." Charles smiled. "One thing I have to say about Caroline: she has a great sense of humor. Maybe a little bit of the actress in her. She knew damn well where the security cameras were in our building. She positively knew there were several sprinkled throughout the finance department for obvious reasons." Lindsay wrote her notes and prepared for what she thought was coming. "We never found out if it was the first time they ever had sex, but Caroline made sure this guy was in plain sight of the cameras on this occasion," Charles said. "They were in the office at about nine at night. Nobody else in sight. She takes him out in the middle of the room by a somewhat clean desk and they start kissing. His hands were everywhere, opening anything on her that was buttoned or zippered. Her blouse was hanging open and her skirt was around her ankles by the time she got his cock out." Lindsay looked at her host, desperately hoping her ever-increasing pulse wasn't obvious to him. She wondered what purpose this all had; where he was going with it, since it was all so 'irrelevant'. "Caroline took off her blouse and kicked the skirt aside, and then she sank down to take him in her mouth," Charles proceeded. "Not with his back to the camera, or her back to the camera. The perfect side view, Lindsay. She had it all figured out. And for nearly five minutes she gave him the best fucking blowjob I've even seen in my life." Lindsay crossed her legs in the opposite direction, feeling the moisture in her panties building. Now, for sure, Charles had to know he was affecting her, damn it. "When she stood up, his cock could have penetrated a wall. He pulled down her bra without even taking it off and sucked on her incredible tits for a few seconds. Then he pushed her down on the desk, shoving stuff in all directions. He yanked off her panties and pushed himself between her legs. The camera had the perfect view from above and slightly behind him. Caroline spread her legs like a pro and took that cock like it was nothing. The rest was pure security camera magic." When he delayed for a few seconds, Lindsay found herself almost begging him to continue. He must have seen the look in her eyes. "We saw his cock sliding in and out of her soaking wet pussy. There was no sound with the tape, but we saw Caroline plainly saying, 'Fuck me. Fuck me. Harder.' And he did. Her legs wrapped around his waist and her tits shook in all directions. The only question was whether he'd cum in her or not." Lindsay was breathing through her mouth, unconscious of the fact she hadn't taken a note in several minutes. "He lifted her ass off the desk, Lindsay. And just when it looked like he was ready, he pulled out and beat himself off until cum shot out of his cock like a hose. We saw strings of cum landing on her tits, her neck, her stomach...the desk. He must have cum a dozen times until she was covered in it." This time when he stopped, Lindsay all but gave up hiding her stimulation. She took a deep breath, switched the position of her legs again, and sighed audibly. The look of surrender in her eyes must have been evident. "I know, Lindsay. We felt the same way the first time we saw it. You should have seen him cleaning her up with his undershirt. It was priceless." The attempt at levity had little effect on her. Her main concern was whether or not he noticed the rock hard nipples pushing against her sweater. "Why are you telling me this, Charles?" she asked in the weakest voice she ever heard come out of her body. "As background for the pertinent information I have," he said. "Don't you newspaper types all want the background info? Isn't a pattern of events more significant than a single event?" "What pertinent information do you have for me, Charles?" "Ah, yes. Why we are here," he said. He looked at Lindsay with the most unashamed look of the afternoon. His eyes scanned her from the smooth blonde hair on her head to the calves of her legs. "Stand up, Lindsay." The young woman's internal struggle over how far she was willing to go with this had finally come to a tipping point. Her brain all but hurt from the countless thoughts and endless decision making. She said, "Charles, I don't..." "Lindsay, don't blow this opportunity. I have information you need to take this story to another level. People are tired of corporate fuck-ups ripping them off. They never tire of sex." "But I don't have to..." "But you do, Lindsay. You do if you want it all," Charles said, leaning slightly forward in his chair. "You do want it all don't you?" "You make me sick," she replied. "I make you horny. You were squirming like a teenager during that story. Your nipples grew harder every minute, Lindsay. I bet your panties are soaked," Charles said in a firm, self-assured voice. "Now stand up." The words bordered on an order. Lindsay threw the notepad on the couch in defiance...and then stood up. "Get undressed, please." For one fleeting instant she considered leaving. In the next, Lindsay was pulling her sweater over her head. She flung it on the couch behind her as her ruffled blonde hair settled back over her shoulders. She made no attempt to pose for him. Yet, the fact she was stationary in the middle of his family room, alone, resulted in the same outcome. Charles studied her keenly, taking in every inch of her body from the waist up. For the first time, Lindsay thought she detected a bulge in his crotch under the expensive pants. She had looked there out of habit and he couldn't have missed the stare. When their eyes met again, nothing was said. Lindsay unzipped her skirt, letting it fall to the floor. She removed it and her shoes at the same time. Now it was a matter of whether or not he could, in fact, detect the wet panties he had correctly predicted. His eyes seemed to pierce through her and Lindsay struggled to figure out what to do with her hands. After what seemed an eternity, he said, "The panties." This wasn't what she wanted her hands to be doing, but she slowly pulled the panties off. Now she stood naked in front of Charles Oster, ostensibly for the purpose of gaining information from him for her story. Charles, of course, only saw this as a down payment. "Turn around, Lindsay." A lot of pretty women worked at Lilt Financial. Charles Oster knew them all. Few, if any, could compare to the one standing in front of him now. From Lindsay's delicate shoulders, to the curve of her spine, to her gently bowing ass and firm thighs...she matched up with the best of them. Even Caroline Hunter, Charles thought to himself. He rose from his chair and walked the two steps it took to get close enough to Lindsay to touch her. His fingers started at the bottom of her ass and traveled up her body in an intensely methodical pace. Only when he reached Lindsay's shoulders did Charles reach around her. He purposely traced the outline of her breasts without ever truly touching them. He teased her by finally running a single finger over both breasts, but avoided the nipples. Not until he thought she was ready did he allow his hand to touch the ultra-sensitive tips. But when he did, he cupped the breasts firmly and tugged Lindsay back against his body, causing her to gasp. "Do you feel it? Do you feel how hard you make me?" Lindsay nodded. "You'll get your information, Lindsay Callahan. But this type of information is expensive. The interesting thing is: you can afford it. Will you pay?" If he expected an answer, she didn't give it. At least not verbally or with a gesture. Charles worked her nipples between his fingers, stopping only to knead her full breasts with his large hands. "I bet Caroline likes having her tits played with. Don't you think?" Another nod. "I bet it makes her wet. She was wet in the security tape, Lindsay. You should have seen how that cock slid into." With that, Charles' hand was between Lindsay's legs. She spread them without even thinking, a reaction that would have disgusted her if it hadn't been for his fingers searching out the opening to her cunt. He found it quickly and slid a solitary finger from her pussy to her clit, lingering there while Lindsay's body stiffened. "Of course you are," he whispered in her ear. "You were wet half way through the story and you got wetter stripping for me. Now you're dripping, Lindsay. Just like Caroline was." So, there it was. Lindsay was no better than Caroline Hunter. Perhaps she would learn of details that made Caroline a worse person. But at the moment, they were basically the same—sexy women who contrived a course for themselves, only to be derailed in the end by more manipulative men. Charles rubbed Lindsay's clit harder. "Shall we negotiate?" "Uh huh," Lindsay acknowledged feebly. A finger entered her cunt and probed her until she felt his knuckles against her pussy. "The price is steep, Lindsay. Are you willing to make a deal?" "Do you have anything worth giving me?" Intended or not, Charles took the question two ways. He took hold of Lindsay's wrist and pulled her hand back to his crotch, where he laid it directly on top of his rigid cock. Lindsay's impulse was to grab the cock through his pants. Charles pushed forward to signal his approval. "I have lots to give you." "Then let's have it," Lindsay said. "Good girl," Charles said. "Now lay down on the couch for me." Lindsay's legs were unsteady as she moved back to the couch. Then she settled down onto the cushions and rolled onto her back. Charles had already removed his shoes. He unbuckled his belt, pulled down the zipper and lowered his pants. Lindsay watched intently as the thick erection under his boxers came into view. Once he was naked from the waist down, Charles strode to the couch. He didn't believe it was possible to get any harder than he already was, but looking down on the beautiful young reporter--flowing blonde hair sprayed out on a pillow and large breasts filling her chest--did cause one last twitch in his cock as he settled between her legs. Any thoughts of regret Lindsay had a moment ago were overshadowed now by her desire to feel Charles Oster's impressive cock in her cunt. She spread her legs and awaited his next move. There were few preliminaries. Charles positioned his cock at the entrance to Lindsay's cunt and lowered his body for a better angle. He did manage to look into Lindsay's anxious face for an instant before driving forward. Charles' eyes remained locked on the young woman to capture her expression of astonishment as his substantial cock made its way inside her body. It was one of the little pleasures in life he enjoyed so much. Lindsay tried to act as if this was a routine fuck. But the sheer magnitude of what had just happened to her pussy resulted in an involuntary intake of breath, followed by an exhaled sound she had never made before. It took three or four thrusts of his cock for Lindsay's body to adjust. When it did, she relaxed as much as she could and just enjoyed the ride. Charles would never admit that Lindsay was a good partner. He'd probably never have to. But he had a tendency to rate fucks and each passing moment moved her higher and higher up the list. When she finally wrapped her legs around his waist and tightened her grip on his cock, she was in the top three. He bent down and took a breast into his mouth, sucking and nibbling on the nipple until her cries of joy filled the room. A short repeat on the other breast had her hips driving wildly up towards his body. "Is this what you wanted, Lindsay? Or should we just stick to the facts?" Lindsay moaned, but didn't answer. "Tell me. Tell me what you want?" "Oh God, Charles. Don't...don't make me...," she tried to mutter between near-violent shoves of his cock inside her cunt. "What, Lindsay? Tell me!" "Goddddd, no!" The couch rocked fiercely, threatening to knock against the end table behind Lindsay's head. The sound of Charles' balls smacking against her ass got louder and louder. "Tell me!" he almost shouted. "Fuck me, bastard! Fuck me! Fuck me!" Lindsay grabbed the front of Charles' shirt and hung on for dear life as they both picked up the pace and intensity. Charles began to kiss the side of Lindsay's face before eventually allowing his mouth to cover hers. Pure lust alone caused her to open her mouth and accept his tongue, returning the favor with vigor. Seconds later, while the kiss was its most passionate, Lindsay screamed out and her orgasm began. Her heels dug into Charles' ass. A button flew off his shirt as she clutched at it with both fists, but neither of them noticed nor cared. "Oh God! Oh God!" she cried out repeatedly. "That's it, baby. Cum harder! C'mon, Lindsay." He held out as long as he could, but the pressure applied by her tight cunt on his cock took its toll. With a mammoth grunt and a powerful thrust, Charles drove his cock deep into her cunt and began to pour out shot after shot of warm cum. Lindsay put her hands on top of his ass and pulled him closer. She wanted to feel every inch of his throbbing cock while Charles came. Lindsay flexed the muscles in her pussy the best she could to squeeze each drop out of him, and it prolonged the orgasm by a few seconds. Finally, Charles collapsed onto the couch, his cock still inside her. Their legs were intertwined; their bodies at awkward angles to allow Charles to remain in Lindsay's cunt. "Names and places, Charles. Dates and times. You promised," Lindsay said. "I sent an e-mail to you when I saw you pulling up. All you need is right there," he replied, rolling her nipple between his fingers. ### The drive back to the newspaper offices was a blur of images from the brief 'interview'. Lindsay couldn't deny the pleasure she experienced, but questioned her ethics and morality. She tried to convince herself that information was information and how it was obtained was secondary...kind of. Would she ever do it again? She couldn't answer that question. She hurriedly got to her desk and opened her e-mail. Sure enough, there was Charles' message. Her hand shook as she double-clicked on it. When it opened, she froze in her chair. Expecting a long message, or perhaps a list, she wasn't at all prepared for what she saw. On two lines were written: BofD AC/DC "What the fuck!?" Lindsay mumbled. Her initial shock was quickly replaced with growing anger. She slammed her fist down on the desk. "Damn you, Charles. Damn you! Damn you!" She kept to herself all thoughts of how he had used her, fucked her, and promised her information...only to give her THIS. Getting the Story And what the hell did THIS mean anyway? Lindsay stared at the computer screen. At first she looked at both lines. Then she decided to concentrate on one at a time. BofD. BofD. Bod. Body. No, it had to be B of D. Board of Directors. "That's it!" Lindsay exclaimed out loud. By this time, fellow reporters in nearby cubicles had given up trying to figure her out. The tirade against Charles, they assumed, was just another boyfriend biting the dust. Now...AC/DC. Was it a reference to something electrical? The band? Lindsay knew basically nothing about either one. This was going to be hard. Her frustration grew, unable to think of anything obvious that connected either possibility to the Lilt Board of Directors. She would begin with AC/DC the band. At least she could Google that and have some hits to work with. She started with a discography, as daunting as it was. Dozens of albums, studio and live, filled the monitor. She scanned the list: High Voltage, Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap, Back in Black, Fly on the Wall...on and on it went. "Shit. This is maddening," she sighed. The singles list was even worse: Highway to Hell, Hells Bells, Back in Black, Big Balls. "Yeah. Right," Lindsay muttered. "That helps. Alright, let's look at the Board of Directors again. Charles is trying to make a connection." She pulled up the e-mail with the Lilt pictures in it. There they all were: Abel, Black, Eldridge, Gunther, Miller... Black. Black. Lindsay couldn't take her eyes off the name. "Black. Back in Black. That's it! Barry Black!" Lindsay's heart pounded with exhilaration from what she thought was the breakthrough she needed. She studied the image of Barry Black, a rather short man of average build, but with piercing eyes that forced Lindsay to study him harder and longer. What did he know? Where to begin? "Hey Julie, this is Lindsay," the reporter said over the phone while still staring at Mr. Black's picture. "What can you tell me about Barry Black of the Lilt Financial Board of Directors." "Oh, very interesting," Julie responded. "Quite a fascinating fellow. Seems nobody can quite figure out how he managed to get on the board in the first place, and then stay there. He had no money that anybody knew of; no power in the business community. All of a sudden, he's on the board with an apparent stranglehold on all things financial. "I vaguely remember a story, before you got here, about irregularities found by the firm's private auditors. Something about travel expenses, or extravagant lodging expenses...or something. Damn it, I can't remember," Julie said. "Don't look it up in our archives because the info was passed on to us anonymously and we never could confirm it. It never got printed." "Really? As if Black had some influence over...say...the Lilt CFO, for instance?" "You're an evil woman, Lindsay Callahan." Lindsay smiled. "That's why you like me." "You buy me drinks. And you owe me two. THAT's why I like you," Julie said. "Who knows him best?" Lindsay asked. "Who can I talk to to get background stuff?" "I'll take care of that," Julie said. "It's better if you don't do the initial poking around. Too suspicious." "Thanks. Find out who he hangs with; where they go. It would be great if I can do this outside the Lilt offices." "I understand. I'll get on it," Julie said. Lindsay felt she was on the right track, but only a meeting with the mysterious Mr. Black would make her happy. He wouldn't be as easy as Charles Oster, she suspected. It took two days, but Julie provided a confirmed nightclub that Barry Black regularly frequented. Unfortunately for Lindsay, she, too, visited the club on occasion. There was no doubt in her mind she would be recognized by too many people if she wanted anything approaching a private discussion with Mr. Black. Then a wicked thought flashed through her mind. What if SHE wasn't the one to meet him? What if she sent somebody in her place, tasked with getting to know Barry Black and obtaining whatever useful information she could? Yes, it had to be a woman. Ideally, somebody that a scheming womanizer like Barry Black couldn't resist. Somebody like Caroline Hunter. Terri Abrams was a former high school cheerleader in the same class as Lindsay. They went to college together and remained in contact while living just ten miles apart. Except for the brunette hair and the age difference, Terri was not a bad substitute for Caroline Hunter. Terri was tall, slim and built like a model, but with the girl-next-door charm missing from most women with her physical attributes. She was smart and funny with a streak of wildness Lindsay found invigorating. But would she do the 'dirty deed' Lindsay had in mind? A single phone call later put Lindsay at ease. Terri listened attentively to Lindsay's story and request. Would she be willing to meet this stranger and engage him in conversation? Would she lead him on with questions pertaining to Lilt, perhaps having to meet him several times to fill in all the blanks? Would she put up with whatever advances he might make? Would she report back to Lindsay? "Anything to help your career, Lindsay," Terri had said. "But I reserve the right to get out anytime I want." "Absolutely," Lindsay assured her. "I would want you to." The deal was done. ### Terri Abrams was not your typical paralegal. But she was the typical twenty five year old, straight out of college, living alone for the first time and with more money than she knew what to do with. She considered going back for a law degree...someday. Right now, she was having too much fun. The adventure her friend Lindsay was sending her on interested her on several levels. She was as tired of corporate greed as anybody and anything she could do to make a dent got her attention. Lindsay's description of the smug Mr. Black made it a challenge. Any hint of bribery or other illegality added intrigue. Then, of course, there was the slim chance she might actually hook up with a totally innocent, good looking executive who had nothing to hide and money to burn. Terri was very much into money. Ever since that first junior high school teacher made advances at her, she realized the intrinsic value of her best asset...her body. Terri and Lindsay had the same basic philosophy about the use of assets. There had to be a legitimate reason, besides a good fuck, to flaunt their bodies. Given enough alcohol, any man would fuck a pile of rocks. Being a beautiful mid-twenty something female meant the bar was raised on challenges. Providing the potentially case-shattering information for a friend qualified as legitimate. Terri became a habitual customer of Diamonds, the nightclub Mr. Black was known to visit. On the fourth night, he was there. Terri's stomach tightened as soon as she matched his face with the photos sent by Lindsay. She watched him from afar for the first hour, then began making herself more conspicuous within his sight. That was not difficult, considering the sleeveless blouse and tight jeans she wore. The blouse hung open with alluring ease, drawing any man's eyes to the hint of full breasts hidden within. The jeans hung low on Terri's hips with a wide, fashionable belt wrapped around her. The total package was nearly irresistible. By late in the evening, Terri didn't even have to go to him—Barry came to her. She was seated at the bar talking to the bartender when she felt him standing on her right. He ordered a drink and said to Terri, "Oh. I'm sorry." The contact was obviously intentional and Terri was thankful for that. "It's OK," she said, looking up at Barry and making sure her look and ensuing smile lingered. She swiveled in her chair to face him more directly. "Is it from here I know you or someplace else?" "I'm sure I'd remember if we had met," Barry said. Terri did her best to blush at the absurd line. "I'm Terri." "Hi. I'm Barry." Terri shook her head. "I don't know where, but somewhere." "Since we're acquaintances, perhaps you'll join me at a table," he said. "Oh, I don't want to crash your group," she said, looking over at the two men still at his table. "Then by ourselves?" Terri watched him take the drink and pay for it from a wad of bills. If it was meant for her benefit, it worked. "Sure," she said, sliding off her chair and following the man to a distant corner booth. They sat on opposite sides and exchanged small talk for a few minutes. Eventually, Terri led the discussion to Barry's job. "I own a medium sized construction firm," he said. "I also sit on the board of Lilt Financial." "You're kidding?" Terri said, perking up dramatically. "Didn't I just read something...a theft...or indictment. That's it. Somebody was indicted." "That was our Chief Financial Officer." By now Terri was leaning forward, her breasts all but resting on the table top. Her blouse feebly attempted to restrain them. "Awesome. You're not involved, I hope." A quiet laugh lasted only a second. "Not directly. But we think we have a pretty good idea what happened." "God, you HAVE to tell me, Barry," she said, playing to an ego she knew was in there somewhere. "I promise. It won't leave this table." "I can't, Terri." The look of disappointment on her face and subsequent leaning back in the seat would have been enough to make him rethink his position. But then she said, "Figures. In one of my novels you would have told me everything. I need to quit reading that trash." Before he could speak, she leaned forward again. "Please." Her hand reached out and lightly touched Barry's fingers as they wrapped around his glass. She allowed the hands to stay together while he said, "It could cost me my seat on the board if it ever got out. I can't afford that." "I'm promising. I swear, I won't say a word. Who would I tell? Please, Barry. I'm begging you." She pressed tighter and he took her hand in his. He slid his hand up and down her delicate fingers, looking at the perfectly manicured nails. At the same time, he felt her foot on the inside of his calf, slowly but surely moving up his leg. "Not here," he said almost in a whisper. "It needs to be in private." Terri put her hands on the edge of the table, pushed herself up and leaned clear over until she was close enough to kiss him. Barry took a second to glance inside the now-gaping blouse. Then he kissed his new friend. "Where?" she murmured. "There's a room upstairs." "Let's go." Barry led the way, uncertain if he had gone too far in his attempt to please the stunning young woman. The question now was: just how much, or little, would he have to tell her to see all of her incredible body? Fleeting mental images of her cleavage—the smooth, tan skin begging to be touched—caused his already excited cock to twitch all the way up the back stairs. They ended up in a short hallway that opened on one side to a very large party room. Music filtering up from downstairs was the only sound on the desolate upper level. They walked farther and came to an intersection of hallways. Barry made the turn and, at the first door they came to, signaled for Terri to wait. She watched him open the door, peer inside, flick on a light and, finally, gesture for her to enter. The room was empty except for a very old, wooden desk with three cases of vodka on top. On one wall another dozen or so cases of miscellaneous booze were stacked one on the other. By all appearances to Terri, nobody had routinely used the office for years and years. Barry locked the door. Terri stood by the desk, her hands behind her back, awaiting Barry's first move. The man said, "It's not exactly plush, but it's private." Terri smiled as Barry walked closer. His eyes inspected her one more time, something Terri was almost getting used to. "Why should I trust you?" he asked. "How do I know you aren't wired for sound?" His index finger ran up the front of her blouse along the line of buttons until reaching the opening between her breasts, then loitered on her skin. "How do I know you have anything of interest to tell me?" she countered. "It's very easy for you to find out if I'm bugged. I'm reliant on your good word, Mr. Black." His fingers moved to the top button of the blouse. Immediately, Terri grabbed his hand and squeezed with substantial force. "Uh uh. Not until you tell me something of interest," Terri demanded. Barry sighed. "You remind me so much of Caroline. At least when I first met her. But things changed when one of her best employees, under the influence of much alcohol, began to spill the beans to me in this very nightclub, Terri." She let go of his hand. "She was a pretty woman, just like you. Older than you, but still attractive. She needed to vent, Terri. I provided her the lubricant and an attentive ear. Ends up she processed most of the vouchers for the company, including travel. It seems Caroline was padding hers...a lot. This girl approached Caroline about it and was basically told to keep her mouth shut or lose her job." Terri didn't need to fake her curiosity as Barry continued. "As a concerned Board of Directors member...," Barry started to say. "Bullshit," Terri interjected. "As a concerned Board of Directors member and man who loves power, I convinced the poor, mistreated employee to provide me with examples of Caroline's padded travel vouchers," Barry said. "One, it was bad for the company. Two, it was a bargaining chip. I ended up with a very large folder full of questionable payments to Caroline. And wouldn't you know it, I ran into the sweet accounting department babe here again a couple weeks later and she offered even more damning information about Caroline...as long as I could get her a raise." Terri didn't want to risk losing Barry's participation at this point, so she took hold of the button he had reached for earlier and lazily opened it. The blouse hung far enough open between Terri's breasts to offer an enticing view to even the least observant male. "I told her I'd work on the raise," Barry continued. "Meanwhile, I scheduled a private appointment with Caroline. Did I mention before that Caroline Hunter is no dumb blonde? We're in the middle of this get-together and about the time I pull out my folder of evidence, she opens her briefcase and extracts her own pile of paper." Terri unfastened another button. Now her breasts were all but hanging out of her shirt and the tiny black bra she had on came into view. Barry stared and licked his lips before filling in more details. "That bitch in accounting was playing us both...which I give her credit for...but it left me in an awkward position with Caroline. I told her part of what I knew and she told me part of what she knew about me and the battle was on." Terri opened the last button. Her blouse hung freely, the light fabric patiently waiting for somebody to move it aside. "We threatened each other for several minutes, neither one of us likely to have done anything that we said. Finally, Caroline nearly screamed, 'What the fuck do you want from me?'" When he stopped and gazed longingly at Terri's half-exposed chest, she pulled off the blouse. The bulge in Barry's pants reached an embarrassing size as he watched Terri's nipples poke against her bra. He coughed, and said, "Well, I couldn't let an opening like that go by so I said, 'I want you naked when I give the order.' She hemmed and hawed about it until I started to pack up my papers. She grudgingly agreed, with all kinds of stipulations, but I wasn't concerned. I would get what I wanted." "What was that?" Terri asked, reaching behind her for the hook in her bra. At the same time Terri's bra was sliding down her arms, Barry said in his roughest voice yet, "I would get to fuck Caroline Hunter." Terri had barely let go of the bra when Barry pulled her to him. His face dove straight for her tits and he had one of them inside his mouth an instant later. Terri gasped at the suddenness of his actions, but his tongue and lips kept her from rebelling. He licked and sucked and bit her until she moaned out loud. "I nearly ripped her clothes off," Barry said as he pulled back from Terri's chest. "I devoured her luscious tits." Once again, he had a tit in his mouth and Terri was holding back even louder shrieks of pleasure. She wasn't sure if she wanted to hear more of the story or just have this guy ravish her on the spot. Barry bit her nipple and her mind was made up. "Fuck the details, Barry," Terri said. "Just show me." He unbuttoned her jeans and had them off quickly. A couple seconds later her petite panties were also laying on the floor and Terri was naked. Barry coveted the view, then looked up at Terri. "Then I told her to take out my cock and suck it," he said with a wry smile. Terri took the hint. She opened his pants and took out the cock while kneeling on the hardwood floor. Terri tried to convince herself she wasn't in competition with Caroline Hunter, but the feeling was hard to shake off. Soon after the cock was laying on her tongue and pushing against the back of her throat, however, she thought of nothing else. After listening to Barry talk for so long, the silence that accompanied Terri's blowjob was refreshing...to both of them. Only the sound of the thick cock sliding in and out of her mouth, an occasional moan and music from the floor below disturbed the quietness of the room. She sucked on him for several minutes, tasting a drop or two of precum ooze from the tip. Terri's pussy also was gathering moisture. Terri let the cock slide out from between her lips and said, "Show me how you fucked her." Barry lifted her roughly by the arm and dragged her towards the table. He pushed her forward and said, "Put your hands on the desk and spread your legs." Terri complied with the demand, thinking she had herself in position. But Barry grabbed her by the waist and yanked her ass towards him. "Bend over and spread your fucking legs," he said. She exaggerated her lean onto the desk, spread her feet wider than her shoulders, and stuck out her ass. The resulting feeling of vulnerability sent chills of excitement through her body. This time, Barry held her by the hips. She felt the tip of his cock ride up her thigh and onto her pussy. He moved it to the entrance to her cunt and hesitated for just a second. "I told her, 'You'll do this every fucking time I tell you to. Got it?' And when she didn't answer...." Instead of finishing the sentence, Barry buried his cock inside Terri with a sudden, violent thrust. She stumbled forward, regained her grip on the edge of the desk and accepted Barry's repeated stabs. Once she was stabilized again, Terri began to gain some stimulation from the ample cock being driven into her cunt. Barry reached up and played with one of Terri's breasts, squeezing and pulling the nipple before gripping her entire tit and compressing it in his hand. Terri was not normally vocal during sex, but this was an unusual situation and her little moans grew in volume the closer she got to an orgasm. Barry urged her on. Terri was uncertain whether or not he was totally out of the 'Caroline mode' or not, since he never used her name. She decided she really didn't care. By pure coincidence, their orgasms were timed perfectly. They cried out simultaneously, their groans filling the little room at an alarming rate. Terri put her head down, trying to maintain her balance on ever-weakening legs while her body quivered uncontrollably. Barry rammed his cock inside her and let his cum gush out. Neither one wanted to be the first to break the union between them, so they stayed in place even after the orgasms subsided. Their pants were the only sound. "You must have had some pretty good stuff on Caroline," Terri muttered without looking behind her.