Pamela Jean Armstrong stepped out of the elevator and toward the double glass doors with a purposeful strike in her step. The twenty-four-year-old blond paused for a moment as she checked her reflection in the glass, then opened the right door, stepping into the offices of Dawson, Davis and Douglas.
The clock on the wall read nine fifty, but the recently promoted Account Manager knew very well that no one was going to make any reference to her being late. Just as no one was ever going to tell her that the hem of her skirt or the deep cut of her neckline was more than simple office decorum dictated.
Quickly she passed down the long row of cubicles, knowing that every pair of eyes looked up as she passed. And why shouldn't they, she thought. After all, she was a very attractive woman. Most men would say beautiful.
It didn't seem like all too long ago that she had been one of the girls in the cubicles. Just another nameless, faceless nobody, slaving away nine to five. That might be all right for these losers, she thought, but Pamela Jean knew she was destined for better things. She was a girl who knew how to make the most of her assets. To get the most for what she had to offer.
Pamela had just reached the end of the row when she heard a voice call out from behind her. She couldn't be sure, but she'd bet even money that the voice had been that of Mary Sue Cox. Mary had started at Triple D over two years before her and had worked her way up to the Supervisor of the secretarial pool. In far less time, Pam had advanced far beyond that with a lot less effort.
The voice had said one single word.
Most women would've taken the accusation as the highest insult. Pamela Jean however reveled in the label. She had learned as long ago as her early teens that she had a body that men wanted. A body that they were willing to pay greatly to possess, if only temporarily.
It started out simply enough back in junior high. A boy might do her homework for the chance to look down her blouse. Even more, he might well do a research project to feel her breasts. Pamela had been fortunate enough to developed quite early and continue to do so until her bust rounded out at a 36C. Those that really went above and beyond might even get the chance to see them braless.
But it was in tenth grade, when she was sixteen that Pam discovered the real power. It was then that she discovered sex.
Her teacher had been her cousin Margo, a girl two years her senior. Using a banana as a prop, she'd taught the teenager how to give a blowjob. From that day on, Pam had wanted for almost nothing. A year later, she graduated to actual sex and the benefits gained increased even more.
Of course the other girls talked about her then, just as they did now. The men however, tripped over themselves to be with her. She also made another important discovery by the time she was a senior. Older men had a lot more to give, and married men were the best because they gave to be with you, then gave even more so their wives never found out.
From High School she moved onto College, where her grades benefited more from late afternoon blowjobs and weekend fucks than any actual work. Most of her professors were more than willing to trade a passing grade for a willing young piece of ass.
No, Pamela wasn't offended by being called a slut; she wore it with pride. At least she had the sense to use the gifts she'd been born with to get ahead, she always reminded herself.
The red-garbed young woman reached her objective, the small row of offices that housed the firm's senior and junior Vice-Presidents. The third office in line belonged to Paul Michael Ryan. He was the Vice-President in charge of her area, as well as her lover.
Pamela's big break to break out of the secretarial pool had come a year and a half ago. Ryan's Executive Secretary, a fifty-four year old battleaxe who seemed like she'd been with the firm forever, had been hospitalized for acute appendicitis. The then twenty-two-year-old hadn't been filling in for a week when she'd convinced Mr. Ryan of her superior dictation abilities.
Even after Jacqueline Bradley returned to work, Paul Ryan was always finding ways to include Pam on special projects. It wasn't long before she found herself promoted to Secretarial Assistant, handling most of the low level jobs that Jacqueline didn't have time for.
Of course by this time, she was screwing the fifty-two year old Ryan two to three times a week. If amazed her at times how much sexual energy the silver-gray haired businessman had during their trysts. Or how adventurous his sexual quirks had become over the course of their affair.
Yet Pamela Jean had never been one to complain about any of his requests, at least not so far. Not whenever he came up with something new for them to try, he always rewarded her enthusiasm with some new gift. A gift that was usually something quite expensive.
Just this weekend, Paul had expressed to her a desire to try anal sex. He had shown up at her apartment somewhat unexpectedly very late Saturday night and in something of a state. He'd told Pamela that he'd had a blowout fight with his wife and could he spend the night with her. At the same time, he insinuated that divorce might be in the future. With that carrot being held before her, there was no way she wasn't going to give in to his request.
Pamela Jean had never tried anal sex before, thinking that it would really hurt. She had been right, oh how she had been right. Paul Ryan wasn't the most endowed of men. In fact, if she was to be brutally honest, she found he was somewhat on the small size.
Despite that, he had fucked her ass with a painful vengeance. He acted as if this was going to be the last fuck of his life. She'd asked him to take it a little easier, but each time he seemed to get more and more aggressive. It was as if he was working off some anger and she was his punching bag. No, make that his fucking bag. By the time they'd done it for the fourth time late Sunday afternoon, Pamela's ass was as sore as she could ever had imagined.
Walking into Paul's office, Pamela tried to ignore Jacqueline Bradley sitting at her desk in the outer office and started to head right for the inner office.
"Excuse me, you can't go in there." Jacqueline said as she rose from her desk to block Pamela's way. "Mr. Davis is in there."
The mention of one of the senior partners gave Pamela pause. Walking in on a meeting between him and Paul wouldn't be a smart idea.
"I'll just wait then." Pamela said defiantly as she turned and dropped into one of the large comfortable chairs on the far wall.
Jacqueline returned to her desk and picked up the report she had been working on. She read a little more of it and a broad smile filled her face. The older woman looked up at Pamela, waiting until they made eye contact.
"Now what the hell is that old bitch grinning at." Pamela though when she became aware of her gaze.
Pamela smiled back, a wicked grin that said she was the one with the power. Paul's original Executive Secretary had retired due to illness some three years before and Jacqueline took her place. Her own boss had also recently retired unexpectedly.
Pam knew Jacqueline had held her in contempt for months. Ever since the night the older woman had come back to the office to pick up some papers from her desk. The Executive Secretary had heard sounds from the inner office and thinking Ryan was working late for some reason, popped her head in to see if he needed something.
Anything Ryan needed at that moment was more than being provided by Pamela Jean. The newly promoted Secretarial Assistant was spread face down over the large mahogany desk, her white dress up around her waist and her panties down around one ankle. Ryan was standing behind Pamela, his back to the door. His shirt and jacket were scattered on the floor; his pants were down around his own ankles.
Jacqueline kept silent as she watched for a few moments as Ryan's bare ass moved back and forth; his cock buried deep in his new assistant's pussy. It was at that moment that Pamela had shifted her head to the left and seen her at the door. Evidently, Pam wasn't as into what was happening as Paul Ryan was and had heard the door open.
Pamela had flashed her a "don't you wish it was you" smile and called out for Ryan to fuck her harder. By the time her boss increased his efforts to comply, Jacqueline was long gone.
"I bet she still wishes it was her getting screwed that night," Pamela thought as a still smiling Jacqueline went back to her report. "As if anyone would want to screw that old bag. I'll bet she hadn't been laid since Nixon was President, if even then."
Ten minutes went by as Pamela sat cooling her heels and Jacqueline went on reading her report. All the time, her smile grew larger and larger. Finally, the door opened and out came the senior partner.
"You handle it anyway you like," John Davis said as the tall sixty-nine-year-old exited the inner office, still looking inside as he walked. "You're in total charge now and we have every confidence in your ability to take care of this."
Seeing a chance to perhaps advance herself more, Pamela jumped up and rushed over to Mr. Davis. Turning his head forward as he moved, he only caught sight of her at the last moment before he crashed into her. As it was, he found himself looking right down at Pam's well-displayed breasts.
"Mr. Davis, hello," Pam said as she took a long, deep breath to further emphasize her large mounds. "I'm Pamela Armstrong, we met at the Christmas party last year."
.... There is more of this story ...