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The director of magazine production Clem Giles watched Headlights also known as Claire walking towards him; some clown in pre-press production had given her that nickname.

Watching them bounce unrestrained, he thought what an apt name and wondered if Claire even wanted those headlights checked for changes to freckles. Not only did she have the second-best set of headlights in the building but her legs also were only bettered by her boss, Nancy.

“Mrs Lake had an accident driving to work this morning, Mr Giles. The car is being repaired urgently. As she abhors traveling by public transport, especially being driven by garlic-eating cabdrivers; she wonders if she could travel home with you this evening and return to work with you in the morning? Her car was rammed up the ass so just requires a new tail thingy which will be fitted tomorrow sometime.”

Certainly Claire. Tell Mrs Lake I exist to service her.”

“I’ll do no such thing, you wicked man, Mr Giles. That’s Mr Lake’s department, which reminds me: you must be the only male in the office who’s not tried to grab these or hasn’t asked me for a date; most going for both.”

“What, grabbing both or both grabbing and asking for a date?”

“You can be so tiresome, Mr Giles. It’s all laid out, waiting for you, and you never ask.”

“Claire, I do believe I’m getting a flicker of understanding here. Are you suggesting…”

“My tits and orifices await you, Mr Giles. You have my cell phone number which I remind you each time we have this conversation, Thank you for being so gallant to my Mrs Lake and please don’t stare obscenely at my ass as I walk away. I rate you better than these brainless dorks who inhabit this building.”

Well, if it weren’t for everyman and his dog plugging you Claire, I could be interested, thought Clem, staring obscenely at her swaying ass – definitely Number One in the office, and she and every other woman knew it. Some guys, of course, don’t rate ass.

Clem thought of dropping into the café and consuming a couple of garlic and onion sandwiches. The arrogant Mrs Lake was so toffee nosed she had her head almost up her own ass deserved nothing better – except Mrs Lake was his boss, being publisher of a stable of internationally circulating women’s magazines branded as Lakeside Readers for Women.

Within the company the mags were loosely known differently, even by some more relaxed females, after some clown in pre-press production began calling them Women’s Monthlies. Ironically, one of the best sellers was titled Women’s Humor. That was an all-female production because the editor had failed to find any male worker who could laugh at what was being produced, which says something – but what?

There was mixed humor at the top of the tree: Crusty Mr Lake as President of Lakeside Publication Corporation was known internationally for his lack of humor whereas his third wife Nancy actually exhibited humor plus quite a lot more.

Clem didn’t see Headlights when she walked either towards or away from him – he just saw white as if his entire nervous system shut down to avoid him disgracing himself with an outburst of uncontrolled lust. Actually it was his reading glasses being coated in steam.

He used the red phone to direct call Her Highness.

“Hi, would 3:00 suit? I have a hairdresser coming.”


Clunk, call terminated. She’d dealt with him surgically, able to tell it was Clem calling because only ten people in the entire building had red phone connection. He thought it was unlikely any of the other nine had any other connection with Mrs Lake.

Clem thought so the hairdresser calls on Mrs Lake, not the other way round, Being possessed with a filthy brain, apparently since birth, he wondered about spelling of the last word in her phrase ‘a hairdresser coming’. That would depend on what they did. You’ve never made chief executive because of your gutter mind, he grinned in coddled self-chastisement.

He froze in a sudden burst of thought; Mrs Lake had thirteen female editors – all with access to company cars. She had oodles of skirts and dames in men’s trousers in her own department and Headlights would be able to get had hands to the steering wheel okay, especially if she wore a bra. His mind worked four times quicker than the world’s faster computer and then flashed the answer: Mrs Lake was 30 and Mr Lake was 62 – and age gap of 32. He was 46 which was exactly half way in age between the Lakes. This had to have some significance. He called Headlights.

“Hi, it took longer to call than I thought you would. I had you taped as a quick thinker. You want to know why you your were selected?”

Clem inexplicably pulled the receiver from his ear and looked at it. The caliber of some females in this building made him feel uneasy. But he found no comfort to this insecurity by looking at a piece of beautifully rendered molded composite material so placed it back against his ear to hear Headlights say, “Answer me, what is the question?”

Slash! The whip cut ataşehir escort into his bared back and Headlights dressed in shiny black vinyl with a hole cut to reveal a beautifully decorated hairless pussy while up top those huge breasts were contained for whip-cracking duty by a steel harness. His mind jumped back to reality and he blurted, “Why me?”

“Simple, moron. Ooops, sorry Mr Giles. Mrs Lake asked me to name the most trustworthy male in the building and I could only nominate you. She asked why and I said you were the only male who’d not made a pass at me. She said “God, I must accelerate my program towards achieving an all-female payroll but was astounded when I said there were also some twenty women listed in my black book who’d made passes at me.”


“She said you are worthy of a position at the Vatican.”

“But I’m Baptist.”

“She probably meant as Ambassador for the Baptist Churches.”

“Oh. That’s all I wanted to knowm Claire dear.”

“Fine, I was doing my nails. Remember to open the car door for her.”


At 3:00 Clem stood at attention outside the executive’s elevator on the first level of the parking basement: the doors opened and Mrs Lake walked out proceeded by her perfume. The body, as usually, was encased in loose clothing designed to camouflage true shapes but it was a wasted effort insofar as Clem was concerned because he was able to mentally see right through it. Her tits weren’t as large as Headlight’s but their elasticity was under better tension so they hung higher and tended to swing either side together rather in opposite directions as Headlight’s did and rather than big and bloated nipples Mrs Lake’s were smaller and tilted upwards cutely.

Both women shaved, but wasn’t that normal these days for women under 80?

“Clem, how lovely to see you again.”

She didn’t attempt to kiss him or even to shake his hand, the cold bitch. He bowed stiffly. She asked which car was his; he pointed to the yellow 2005 Porsche Boxster S, top down, that he’d had since new.

“Eeek, I can’t go in that,” she complained.

“I’ll call you a cab.”

“Oh God no, I’d rather go in that thing.”

Clem appealed to Mrs Lake to be careful, that Mimi was sensitive.

Nancy’s mouth opened as if to say something scathing about naming a car but apparently remembered her good manners.

Clem opened the passenger door. She looked at the cramped seating space and swallowed. “You’ll have to look away while I lever in; I’ll display everything.”

“Nope, I look: this is one of the reason rambunctious ageing males have sports cars.”

“But you have a wife and two teenagers.”

“Not any longer. Then now live in Spain with Geoffrey, a low level diplomat; Penny and Geo married last year.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.”

“Whatever for – without Penny I now have Mimi.”

“Oh – you actually love you car?”

“Yes – but don’t prejudge, wait until you see her exhibit personality.”

“Excuse me, Clem, I may be younger than you but don’t take me for a fool.”

“There is a class of person, mostly male, who purchase vehicles from Porsche because every vehicle that car-maker produces is sexy with personality. You don’t buy a car from a Porsche dealer – you buy a whole way of life.”

“That sounds very romantic.”

“Glad you understand. Now please flash those lovely legs at me, as high at you can.”


“Mrs Lake!”

“Oh very well; look as much as you wish but perhaps you better address me as Nancy. I must insist on that if you’re seeing up my dress a bit.”

“To your stocking tops at the very least, Nancy. Porsche designers are male.”

“Oh God.”

They didn’t discuss what Clem had seen. He folded into his seat with practiced ease.

“You did that elegantly. Young men though would be frustrated by this small cabin if they were with a frisky date.”

“I wouldn’t know but I believe the male designers have strengthened the hood with that in mind.”

“You mean they do it on…oh God.”

“Oh God,” she sighed, seconds later when they’d reversed out of the parking space and turned a 180 in one movement and were slowing 50 yards away to wait for the barrier to open at the entrance before she’d barely managed to take her hand away from doing up her seat belt.

At little later she called nervously, “There’s a truck coming my side – fast.”

“Seen it,” Clem said, stabbing the gas pedal and they were a good twenty yards along Indiana Boulevard before Nancy managed to reopen her eyes; she endeared herself to Clem by saying, “You’re wonderful, Mimi.”

Of course he had to spoil that when answering, “Do you know why you were chosen to drive me home?”

“Because everyone despises you but Claire thought I was dumb enough to be persuaded to be a gentleman?”

Clem could have kicked himself when she turned and he saw genuine pain in her eyes. “Am I not respected?”

He jumped to the rescue. “I have a stupid sense of humor, Mrs Lake-er Nancy.”

“I’m kadıköy escort bayan pleased to hear that. I’m sure I’d been informed about discontent via Headlights.”

Clem shot a quick look at her and her eyes were now twinkling humor. She’d let him on to a big secret: she knew Claire’s nickname.

“Oh damn, there’s Bronwyn’s Deli,” Nancy said, glancing across the road. “I’d meant to ask…” Clem had already checked in the mirror and ahead and slid Mimi round in a 180 and almost managed to slide into a parking space without having to maneuver into it at all.

“Oh you stupid woman, watch what you say to Clem,” she said, through the hand over her mouth as her stomach caught up with the direction they were now facing.

“Just ask for Mrs Lake’s order,” she called to Clem as he trotted around the front of Mimi. “I’m thinking about really showing you leg.”

Intrigued, Clem turned and went to her side of the car. “Why?”

“You’re winding something up inside me. It’s been a long time since I’ve been excited by anyone. Sexually I mean.”

Mind-spinning, Clem smiled and wandered off to the deli, almost attempting to walk through the closed screen; he opened it and a big woman behind the counter, presumably Bronwyn, was holding up a white box tied with pink ribbon looking at him suspiciously. “I’ve never seen Mrs Lake in the company of a strange man before.”

“I’m anything but strange, Bronwyn. Her car is broken.”

“Cars don’t break – at least Mercedes like hers don’t.”

“It got shoved up the ass this morning.”

“That sounds like Claire taking; what’s Claire’s nickname.”

Clem told her.

“Claire always places Mrs Lake’s orders with me and we meet when I supervise catering at Mrs Lake’s special functions. Knowing that name tells me you work for Mrs Lake so I’m confident about you. Here you go – and drive Mrs Lake safely – I just saw you spin you car around like the village idiot.”

Mini was turned leisurely back into the original direction of travel, much to the relief of Mrs Lake and to Bronwyn, who waved approvingly to Clem from her doorway.

Nancy was putting away her phone. “I’ve just cancelled my hairdresser. The greedy woman still wants to be paid, but it’s worth doing it as I regard her as irreplaceable. You’re having dinner with me.”


“Do you have a hearing difficulty?”

Picking up the in-car phone Clem pressed a pre-set number and switched to speaker.

“Hi, Arnold Green. How may I assist?”

Clem replied, “Arnie, sorry but can’t do 10-pin this evening. Get Harry.”

“That dickhead. Okay. You’ve picked up a broad?”


“Do I know her?”

“She’d way out of your class, Arnie.”

“You and your uppity airs. Describe her to me.”

“Lovely black hair with the natural curls ironed out and pulled into a roll like a French nun.”

“When did you ever bed a French nun?”

“Who’s doing the description, Arnie?”

“Okay – but get to the interesting bits fast. I’m losing business talking to you.”

“Face is okay but a bit of a mask because of too much make-up. Perfume is great, the kind that makes your nuts groan, “Oh yes. The tits, just can’t wait to bury my face,” Clem said, watching Nancy’s bemused expression border on disgust.

“This sounds like a babe worth spending all night with.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Clem said, watching the corners of Nancy’s mouth turn up. “She hides her body in unbecoming clothes, Arnie, but I reckon her belly is flat and firm and her pulsating thighs are sculptured classically and encased in mouth-watering stockings attached to dinky snaps on tapes from a garter belt.”

“Pulsating thighs? My friend I have to go to whack myself off. Have a great night.”

As far as Clem was concerned, this was Nancy’s only chance – bite the bullet and get her night of excitement or raise the drawbridge and have his termination notice on his desk when he arrived at work next morning.

“Pulsating thighs?” she gasped.

Clem smiled and buried his foot as they were entering Highland Hills where her mansion was situated.

Mimi put on a virtuoso performance of a delicate balance of power to weight ratio. Responding to Clem’s manipulative touch on steering, gear-changes and brake orchestrations as if they were one – a motorized ballet. Throughout the two-mile ascent of the Highland Hills Nancy’s expressions changed from near terror to naked sublime adoration. Semi-conscious in a state of erotic hypertension, Nancy pointed to the only entrance-way on the left up-ahead and was thrust back into her seat as Mimi was set free and flashed up the curving sealed and tree lined track three times faster than Nancy believed possible.

They snaked to a seat-belt tightening stop, only just avoiding being hurled through the 10-foot high double oak carved doors leading to the Grand Hall.

Clem leaned over to fuse their very first kiss.

Nancy lifted away, a little reluctantly he thought, to whisper, “My escort maltepe thighs are pulsating. Thank you dear Mimi.”

Clem was sipping Veuve Clicquot Yellow Label Brut NV as an aperitif and watching through the glass two peacocks crapping on the marble tiles when he heard a woman call, “Your bath is ready Mrs Lake.”

The reply was interesting. “Eva, please being a complete change of clothes – casual – from my husband’s dressing room, a disposable shaving kit, after shave and a bottle of Clicquot Yellow Label, then ask everyone to leave the house as soon as you have bought my guest to join me here in the sunroom.”

“Yes, Mrs Lake. Good evening.”

Clem was shown to the entrance to the sunroom and Eva immediately withdrew. He entered the room and his half proud cock lost it’s shape in disappointment: rather that being found lounging in a half-open gown, Nancy was sprawled on the sun-loafer fully dressed. Clem’s essential pendulum stiffened once again when she said, “Hi, I wasn’t sure whether you wanted to find me nude or dressed – my conservatism won.”

“Thank you, thank you. I adore unwrapping delectables.”

“Delectables,” Nancy said weakly. “I really don’t deserve this; I’m in paradise.”

She came to him. They kissed and he unzipped her and removed that abomination she probably called a dress. Nancy stood, well-balanced on her 5-inch heels, rosy red bra pushed to almost bursting point, matching garter belt and panties and sheer stockings with lace tops in light fawn. He circled her, three-feet out, like an abattoir meat inspector eying a carcass on the hooks. She asked what was he doing and he explained, but using words she’d want to hear: “Circling, drinking in the perfumes and sights of your heavenly body and wondering how it is possible that I’m so lucky.”

“You haven’t gotten anything yet.”

“Does it matter? What I have seen will suffice me for eternity.”

“Then let’s go down to dinner now.”

“Er, I wouldn’t rush it. I could be interesting in becoming familiar with the delectable flesh.”

“Oh Clem” Nancy cried thrusting her groin into his. “Take me!”

“What, to dinner?”

That perverted sense of humor had the desired effect. She hammered his chest with her fists, bit into his shoulder and shuddered into her first orgasm. “Oh Clem,” she wept. “You know how to deal with a woman.”

Clem swept her into his arms and heading away from the bathroom carried her to the indoor swimming pool.

“Most of my weight appears to be held by your erection,” she murmured. She was such a lovely woman, not at all like the image projected, he thought.

Steps led into the pool. He dropped her on to her feet on the landing covered by a few inches of water; she didn’t complain. Gently to avoid scratching her white satin skin Clem unclipped her stockings and pulled them down into the water and removed them, throwing them away from the pool. She was unzipping him as he removed the flimsy garter belt, desperate to inhale her odors but he kept upright to allow her to start working on his cock. The moment to scent her richness was gone as she leant forward to lick his tip and to slowly work around the head.

“You’re big.”

He swelled with pride and she said, “Even bigger now. Oh, what a beauty.”

Well, if she saw beauty in a male dick that was fine by him. Didn’t they say ‘beauty is in the eye of the beholder? She was eyeing it and holding it.

Nancy bending low because he was standing two steps below her meant her bra hooks were really handily placed to unhook – not that was ever a problem; over the years he’d known himself to go to acrobatic extremes to get the little blighters undone to begin a tweak-lick-suck routine.

She worked with energetic enthusiasm, unusual for a corporation senior executive in any role he thought, so he left her unmolested until his knees buckled a little and a deep groan was torn from his mouth. Nancy pulled away and directed his load over her swaying tits.

She grinned at him and challenged: “Lick me clean.”

Clem knew he had choices: Say no, that’s girl’s work or alternatively suck up the stuff that to him tasted like salted and overcooked leek soup that would hopefully propel her into unrestrained sexual lust. He winced as he vacuumed up soup; he straightened and kissed her. Obviously she was well-trained because her open mouth met his and her tongue snaked into his and scooped out some of the deposit.

They picked up speed doing this, staring at each other with eyes only an inch apart when making the transfer, their bodies growing hot.

Finally, ‘That’s enough, fuck me.”

“What, no working your cunt?”

“Are you deaf? I’m leaking like a tap.”

Clem braced his feet and lifted her. Nancy slung her arms round his neck and as she was lifted anchored around his waist, ready to be lowered, Clem could feel the big tits squashed between them partly trying to escape to freedom under his armpits; he’d deal with those lovelies later.

Nancy was lowered and Clem pulled his butt away until he judged she was at the right distance; he could feel her dripping on to him. Oh boy! Once confident he was at the entrance he sent his butt forward, the shock emptying her lungs as he drove all the way, not too roughly, until their groins slammed together.

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