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He and Joanne left the bar after about an hour and a half. That was generally as long as he ever spent there. She’d really hit it off with Buck.

“He’s a real man’s man” she commented. “Buck is a big, tough Texan that doesn’t take shit from anybody.” She mused. “I like men like that. Frankly, the men in our region all seem to be wimps–pussy whipped wimps. Your boss, who you so lovingly refer to as dimwit–and he is one–is the worst of the lot. That little wife of his leads him around by a permanent ring imbedded in his nose. As I’ve clearly seen today, you’re not like that at all.”

He was reflecting on the day’s activities, marveling at the transition in Joanne’s character toward the end of the day and seriously baffled about who this woman really was. It had all started the day before.

Joanne was a corporate Human Resources VP. She was a professional ball busting bitch that every one hated and feared. Dimwit, his boss, was terrified of her. Most of the other sales reps were scared to death of her. The non-exempts left the lunch room when she entered.

She was somewhere in her early thirties, frumpy hair, frumpy clothes, horror show makeup, sensible shoes and an imposing demeanor. There had to have been a body under there somewhere, but he’d never gotten a hint of it. Since she was technically the senior person in the building, in spite of the fact that she had no line management experience, never sold and never ran an operation, she had established herself as the ice queen of the office.

Dimwit had asked him to take her out to see customers, actually begged him to, since all the other senior reps had virtually cried their eyes out in his office at the thought. He just wasn’t afraid of her. He knew he could leave this company tomorrow and take most of the business with him. He’d had some of the toughest, most unreasonable customers in the state over the years. He’d also done a few years in the Army and the Marine Corps including two tours in Vietnam as a pilot. He scuba dived often off the coast of Florida with much scarier looking creatures than Joanne.

The afternoon before their travel day he was in the office going over some issues with transportation. The dragon lady was standing in her doorway, tapping her foot, obviously trying to get his attention. She proceeded to storm over to where he was meeting with the now terrified trans manager, demanding to know where her typed itinerary of their planned travel day was. She also wanted to know time he would be picking her up at the office. He thought to himself, only the CEO or the COO ever got itineraries. Who the fuck did she think she was?

He said, excuse me to the trans manager, spun around, fixed her with his well seasoned 1,000 yard stare, and let the silence drip off the moment.

“Joanne, Don and I will be done in a few minutes. We have some important details to work out on a special shipment. When we are done, I’ll stop by your office to chat.” He then turned back around and continue to talk to the trans guy, Don.

He and Don continued to chat for almost half an hour, even though they had really tied up their business in the five minutes he had thought it would take. He moved toward her office. He stopped to chat with a couple of people. He skipped the knock he knew she expected, closed the door behind him and again gave her the 1,000 yard stare.

“Joanne, that was exceedingly rude and unprofessional. You interrupted real business and made a scene which did nothing to help the morale and efficiency of this office.” He calmly told her. She started to speak, crimson with rage.

“I am not remotely done, here.” He said definitively. “Now I know everyone in this office is scared of you. Dimwit in the office next door is petrified of you–he even gave you the bigger office when, rightfully, it should be his, as the Region Manager. The office staff is terrified of you. I am not. First, you know since you are a personnel puke, that I make 6 times what you make; it’s all commission and I earn every dime of it. I represent one half of this region profit–not bad when you consider that the other 11 reps make up the other 50%.”

He continued to blow his own horn, not generally his style, but this brash woman had gotten under his skin. “Our two largest competitors call me monthly, begging me to come to work for them, and if I did, I would take all the business with me and bankrupt this Region and the overall area. I know you’re connected up the line, but so am I–very connected–and unlike you, I make money for this company.”

He started to wrap up. “Let’s come to a quick agreement. Don’t even think of fucking with me, and I won’t fuck with you. Fucking with me includes fucking with my office folks—don’t ever forget that. In the immortal words of Dirty Harry, personnel is for assholes. Joanne, you are a prime asshole. I am not, but will make an exception in your case.”

He had a couple more thoughts on their pending day together. Sivas Escort “Regarding itineraries, we’re going to visit these three accounts tomorrow–for sure–but will almost certainly see other people. I do not drive from my house to this office, a two hour round trip, so that I can then drive to my largest account which is 15 minutes from my front door.”

He opened his folder and handed her a map with printed directions which he had long ago prepared for other office people assigned to travel with him.

He went on, almost done with Joanne. “I will get into my car at 5:30 AM, tomorrow morning. If you’re early, I’ll pour you a decent cup of coffee. If you are late, just turn around and go home, because I will be gone. Is there any part of this you’re not clear on? If not, see you not later than 5:30 AM and have a nice day.”

He opened her office door and closed it quietly behind him. He smiled broadly to everyone in the office, bid them a jolly good night and walked to his car to drive home; he was dreading a whole day with this poisonous blowfish.

She was early, probably 15 minutes. He was pleasant but not jovial. He offered coffee, she demurred. Not a lot of words passed between them as he grabbed his suit coat and some files and headed for the door. She didn’t look much better today than the previous day, but it was a nice designer suit and the makeup was less severe She looked presentable.

He had opened the front door when she rang the bell and she had to endure a quick nose over by his blue Great Dane and larger than average male Weimaraner . They were well trained; they never actually touched a guest or got dog snot all over them, but gave her a quick once over. The Weimaraner took a little more interest than usual around her crotch. He figured she was on the rag–perpetually.

He briefed her as they drove. “First, we’re going to the operating room. It’s the only time of day you can get any time with the doctors and key decision makers. This is not a nine to five office job. We’ll change into scrubs. I always bring our brand, since they are much nicer than the ones they are using–and I’m starting to get some interest from the nurses. I took you for a size 6, or maybe an 8?” He asked.

“Somewhere in there, ah, a six I guess.” She replied.

“Great, there are several sets of different styles and colors on the seat behind you, pick one you like.” He informed her.

He was a high roller making several hundred thousand a year. They were driving in a two year old Mercedes, not one of the C or E class, but one of the great old big, honken’ V-8 monsters. His suit was Armani and his briefcase Coach. . They got through the morning well. She didn’t embarrass herself, almost–perish the thought–looked cute in the scrubs she had picked out. It was obvious that he knew everyone in the institution all the way up to the Chief of Staff and the CEO, and that those relationships were genuine and warm.

They had lunch with the Materials Director who had become his best friend–still was–25 years later. The guy wasn’t particularly impressed with her, but was pleasant. He only rolled his eyes once when he knew she wasn’t looking.

They proceeded through a couple of more accounts, each of which he clearly, owned. Around 4:30, they pulled into the parking lot of a seedy little bar.

He turned to his passenger. “Joanne, do you see that huge hospital over there? They buy nothing from us. We’ve screwed them up for years, given them incompetent novice reps, changed reps at a whim and they absolutely despise and detest us. I can’t get an appointment to see anyone in that place, but I told Dimwit I’d take it, because it’s close to home, has unlimited potential, and well, it’s a challenge.”

He went on. “Twice a week the Director of Materials and the Assistant Administrator come in here to have a few drinks and shoot some pool. Twice a week, I come here in an effort to build some kind of relationship with these people. Please don’t order a soda or worse, white wine, the least you can get away with is a light beer.”

He continued. “The Materials guy is a big Toby Keith/Trace Atkins type, with a cornpone line of patter that is right out of Minnie Pearl–and it is Minnie Pearl–because he has a BA in English Lit from UT Austin and an MBA from their business school. He’s as sharp as they come. Don’t get caught up in titles–he’s mentoring the Assistant Administrator, not the other way around.”

He went on to describe the key contact. “Buck, as he likes to be called, is the real power in this account. He’s starting to take a shine to me. Treated me like shit until he found out I’d done two Vietnam tours. He did one with 5th Special Forces and we decided that I might just be the guy that put a bunch of rockets and 20 mike mike on some gooks trying to overrun his base camp. So, Armani or not, I passed the ‘rough and ready’ test.”

As he paused, Joanne spoke. “I went to UT Austin. I’m originally from Texas. My Sivas Escort Bayan dad just retired from the Army. 32 years. Command Sergeant Major, Infantry.” He did three tours in Vietnam, once with SF.” Joanne quietly stated.

“You’re full of surprises, young lady. Just have some fun with Buck. Don’t let him get under your skin, but push back without removing his scrotum. He likes it here in Florida, but he loves Texas.” Jim instructed.

They entered the darkened bar; Buck gave him a big wave from the pool table where he was just finishing off the poor Assistant Administrator, and swaggered over to the bar to meet them.

He actually said, “Why hello, little lady!” and tipped his, you guessed it, Stetson, in her direction. He was playing her.

To Jim’s astonishment, she replied to him in the most redneck west Texas twang he had heard since El Paso. “Well, Hell. I thought Jim was taking me into some kind of gay fern bar, but you look like an above average specimen of Texas manhood. How the fuck are ya? I’m Joanne.”

You could have knocked Jim over with a feather, but Buck was doubled over in mirth.

“What’s a girl got to do to get s drink in this place?” She asked. The bartender came over. “Jack, black, double, rocks, how about you Buck?”

“That’ll do” He replied.

The Assistant Administrator came over. Jim introduced them and then guided him back to the pool table while Buck and Joanne exchanged secret Texas handshakes and lamented over missed national championships, or whatever it is Texans do in private moments. They were laughing, back slapping and just having a grand old time. Jim played a couple of games of pool. He let the Administrator just win so he wouldn’t guess he was being sandbagged. They moved back to the bar to pay the tab and all get on their way home.

Buck turned to him and said. “This is one damned spirited filly you got here Jimbo. I’m glad to know someone else in that company of yours has a set of brass ones, pleasure making your acquaintance little lady.” And he tipped the Stetson again.

“You are so full of shit. ” Joanne responded.

“My wife tells me that, several times a day, y’all be careful now.” Buck responded.

They walked to the door. Buck turned to Jim at the very last moment and spoke.

“Can you stop by next Tuesday, early, maybe 7:00 AM? ‘Got something I need to chat about.”

Since they couldn’t have screwed up anything for a customer that bought nothing from them, Jim had to take that as good news. It was the first time he ever asked Jim to come to his office.

“You done good in there, ‘little lady,’ I’m proud of you.” Jim quipped. “But I think you might have had one more of those doubles than you ‘shoulda oughta.’ so let’s get some coffee in you before you drive back across the bridge.”

They got back to the house and she asked if there was someplace she could change into casual stuff she had in her car, for the ride home.

“Five bedrooms and four bathrooms, God knows why, take your pick. If you want to take a nap, feel free.”

She picked one, and he heard the shower come on and about 15 minutes later she came out in shorts and a tennis shirt with her hair still damp For the first time in his memory, she actually looked like a real woman–instead of Lilith from ‘Cheers’. Maybe not beautiful, but considerable more firmness in that body than he would have imagined. She had a nice swell to her hips. Her tits were bra-less under the tennis shirt. He had been sure she didn’t have any tits as long as he had known her, only balls, big brass ones, as Buck had observed. She had decent legs, a little short, but well turned.

“I’ll take you up on that cup of coffee.” She cheerfully requested, and he poured them each a freshly brewed cup.

It was a beautiful day so they moved out to the back deck to enjoy their coffee overlooking the water.

She started in. “I like to fuck, as much as the next woman–more, in fact.. I like it hard, and sweaty. It’s like going to church, if there isn’t a little pain and agony, then the religious experience is disappointing. As big a ball buster as I am on the job, when it comes to sex I need to have a little knocking around, a little leather, maybe a nice spanking.”

Where the hell is this going, he thought. She went on. “I expect a man to take charge in the bedroom, make me his woman. I want to be fucked hard from the rear, rough hands spreading my cunt and shoving fingers inside. I like my tits mauled. I like my face fucked. I enjoy taking every inch of a man’s dick down my throat.”

Okay, he thought, this is better than phone sex. “I love to be boned up the ass, hard. I need a man who is not afraid that I’ll break and will force my knees tightly against my tits and force his big, stiff cock into my tender dirty hole. I like to be spanked. I shave every hair off my pussy and ass. You can cum on my face. I like it really rough. I need it, I crave it and I deserve it. Are you getting Escort Sivas the picture here, Jimbo?”

Jim was stunned. And with that, she yanked her pants down, calmly finger fucking her hairless and obviously recently shaved pussy. She was leering at him, sticking her fingers in her mouth and then back in her bald little girl cunt. As hot as her little soliloquy was, he almost fell for it. Naked, with her fingers shoved up her cunt, her compact little body looked pretty damned good.

He pushed her over on her side and slapped her ass hard with his bare hand. She smiled. He got it.

“That was just on general principles, Joanne, you really are one sick little manipulative bitch! And you are a ball buster. You couldn’t own me by scaring me silly, so you decided to try to own me by making me abuse you, making me brutally fuck you, fuck your mouth, your cunt and your ass. Own the cock, own the man, is that the game?”

He calmly took a sip of his coffee and continued. “Then you’d have something on me, use my own anger against me. I’m sorry, Joanne, but no go. You’re a very bright and not completely unattractive young women. If you weren’t such a whack job I believe I would genuinely enjoy making love to you. My instincts tell me to just kick your ass out of here and try to forget this Twilight Zone episode. But as an idealistic believer in the patron saint of lost causes, you and I are going to talk. Now get you fingers out of your pussy and pull up your pants. At that point, you can stomp out of here, or not–your call.” He stopped talking and she complied.

She was sitting there, face crimson, lips tightly pursed, having no idea what to do. So she just sat there, not looking at him.

“Cabernet or Chardonnay–oh, fuck it, you’re definitely a red wine girl.” He said as he opened a new bottle and poured two glasses, returning to the sofa and handing her one which she wordlessly accepted.

She started to speak; he said, “No, me first. What I have to say is going to be a lot shorter than the bizarre life story you owe me, so here goes.”

“I’m just not into this stuff. A little slap and tickle, hard balling, light bondage, ass fucking, role playing, sure, been there, done that, got the T-shirt. You want to be abused, and somehow, I guess you think that’s how real men ‘take’ their women? You know better. But for some stupid reason, I want to understand you and what drove you this deep into self hatred.”

She started to tell her story. “I haven’t always been a man hater. But I’ve been burned both personally and professionally and it has hardened me. Human Resources means having to make tough decisions and fire people and I’ve gotten really good at it, but it’s taken away some of my humanity. I’ve been used more than once by senior management to do dirty work. In an uncertain business climate, the friend I make today might have to be the one I fire next week. I had to fire some people I really cared about and I’ve lost sleep over it. I know I’m going to get punished some day for doing men’s dirty work.”

At this point, he wasn’t sure if he was still being played by a great actress or not.

She continued. “But the realities are there, so I’ve stopped making friends or getting close to people inside the company. I’m too damned busy to have much of a life outside the company. I had an affair with someone very senior, fell in love and it was a huge mistake, so I work hard at not attracting any interest from males. I was married. My husband ran off with my best friend–my gay male best friend. I’m not sure a man can even imagine what its like for your spouse to leave you so he can go fuck some guy in the ass, to realize that when he was fucking you in the ass–always from the rear–or letting you suck him off–always with his eyes closed–that he was thinking about another man.”

She took a gulp of wine and went on. “I grew up a tomboy. I grew up in Texas, Fort Hood, Fort Bliss; you were in the service, I believe, I can’t recall which one, but you know the picture. I can ride a horse and shoot any kind of gun. I used to work out a lot and have a black belt. I cannot tolerate–become sick to my stomach around–pussy whipped, wimpy men. Part of it is certainly the disgrace of having once married a guy that wasn’t really interested in my pussy, but my Dad is all man, as are my brothers. I’ve had death threats in this job, and if they come after me they’ll get two, center mass, quicker than you can say Colt 1911. Every time I’m not in control I get hurt. Most men are easy to control, easy to scare, easy to intimidate–they’re fucken’ pussies.”

She transitioned to a more personal tone. “You’re different. I knew my usually successful ball busting routine had absolutely no effect on you. So, you’re right; if you can’t own a man with intimidation, use your sex, own his dick. By letting you think I wanted to be your submissive slave, you would have become mine. And I’ve done it before, on more than one occasion. Most men can’t wait to abuse a ball busting bitch. And in those other situations I owned that prick and could get him to do anything I wanted. And you just wouldn’t bite. I thought I had you when you pushed me over and slapped my behind. But I now realize that sex had nothing to do with it.”

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