The New Hire
Chapter 1

Copyright© 2005 by J.C. Miller

Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Pat and Blevin got off to a bad start professionally. Then, she offered the extra bed in her room when he lost his wallet at the conference. He invited her to go to Mexico on spring break and she laughed at him. Then, she accepted if they could be platonic. Their first resort was clothing optional. Pat had no intention of being platonic in Mexico.

Caution: This Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Romantic   Swinging   Safe Sex   Oral Sex   Slow  

The claxon horn added to the madhouse announcing the arrival of the bags from flight 2302. I decided to avoid the pushing and shoving to be first to claim my bag—after all, I wasn't late for an appointment with the president and I didn't want anyone dropping their bag on my feet again. So, while listening to the clamor, I enjoyed the aroma of turbine exhaust that took me back to my time in the Navy.

As I sat in relative comfort waiting for the crowd to clear, there Pat stood watching each bag go by as she searched for hers. Sort of like looking for one's children as they erupted from school. The right bag or child has to be in that mess somewhere. Pat. God dam Pat. She charmed the search committee into hiring her but she was not a good choice for the future of the department. Even worse, because of her excellent record, they offered her a one-year tenure option. Shit. Remember what Kissinger said. "University politics are so vicious because the stakes are so trivial."

Although she had been hired over my strenuous objections, the 'academic code' obliged me to accept her as a colleague and be civilized in my interactions with her. OK, I once took a course in play-acting and I must admit I called upon my teachings on more than one occasion when dealing with her.

She watched the carousel present bags to others as I watched her from behind. As a woman, she looked great. Nice fitting jeans, black turtleneck, high heels, and a leather waist-length jacket. Straight from behind, I could see light through the inverted isosceles triangle created beneath her crotch and between her thighs when she faced directly away. The form-fitting jeans curved nicely around each cheek leaving little to the imagination. Hey, if you've got it... ! Her eyes had just a few wrinkles indicating to me that she had seen many interesting sights. Her smile could melt the icecap and she wasn't even illegal. At home, she smiled at me once in a while, but I was impervious. I imagined her in the viewfinder of my camera, tossing her long brown hair around her shoulders, even having her breasts exposed. Few men could resist feasting their eyes on her, regardless of what she was doing, unless, of course, they were into starlet gazing and she was more woman than those.

The noise of the carousel and the public address system, combined with the unpleasant roar of passenger conversation finally caused me to seek an immediate exit. Just as she found her bag, I found mine and greeted her 'warmly.' "Hey, Pat. Would you like to share a cab ride to the hotel? It costs $5 more than two tickets on the bus, but it is a lot more comfortable."

Her smile seemed genuine, although I knew that she knew my resentment toward her. Her long brown hair swirled around her face as she spun around to look at me. "OK. That makes a lot of sense to me, Blevin. Don't need more hassle today."

After a few minutes of 'relaxing' on the Bayshore freeway, she said, "I'm surprised by your offer. Thank you. I know that you do not like me."

I pondered my answer, sexist pig that I am, and said gently, "Pat, I don't know you well enough to dislike you. I voted against you because I thought the future of the department required a scholar with a different orientation."

She was silent. I went on, "Being a woman, I knew that you would dislike me for voting against you and it would become a big personal thing."

"You are truly a sexist bastard!"

"I have tried a long time to overcome that but right now it would be in our best interest to rid ourselves of our past ideas, learn the PC rituals and comply." I was getting into my deepest grudge. "Let me just tell you something, Pat, I do not dislike you. I did not care who you were as a person. I wanted to fill that position with an experimentalist. There was a damn fine woman experimentalist on the short list."

She came back quickly, "That woman—that experimentalist—is a fraud. There is ample evidence that she faked data for her dissertation so that she could confirm her major professor's hypothesis. We women have a superb 'back-channel' communications loop."

"Pat, I am taking you as a scholar of honor and I am prepared to believe what you say. I hope you are truthful. How do you know?"

There was this long, silent pause. "Blevin, when I trust you, I will tell you. I know that you are a hard-nose, and I will expect total confidentiality. I don't ordinarily trust men. You were absolutely truthful with me and I may come to trust you."

"It isn't important. You already have the job. We can be civilized."

We had both picked an economy hotel outside the constant bustle of the professional meeting in the Hilton. I felt it mildly unusual that she picked the same one, although it was featured right there on the Internet site.

"Pat, I'll pay for the cab going in. Since we have the same flight returning, you get the one going home. OK?"

"Works with me."

We arrived at the hotel entrance façade and I started to pay the cabbie. I could not find my wallet--no money. I went through all my jacket pockets and pants and looked in my laptop case. There was no money or wallet to be found as the cabbie waited impatiently and I stood there perplexed.

"Uhh, Pat, I lost my wallet. Could we switch and you pay now and I will pay later?"

She smiled, "Oh, my check is in the mail? That's fine. I barely have enough cash, but I can get to an ATM later."

I was in deep trouble. Without my wallet I had no credit card to check in. Got the picture? Pat went to the desk and quickly obtained a room. As she walked across the lobby, she saw me with my head down and obviously in distress. "OK, what's up?"

"I am homeless. I can't get in without a credit card and I can't get a credit card until FedEx brings it in the morning. I don't know where I lost my wallet, but I don't even have an ATM card. I'm going to go over to the meeting and see if I can hit up one of my chums."

"Blevin, by accident or whatever, they gave me a nice room with two large beds. You are welcome to share. In any event, bring your computer up and get online to cancel all your cards."

"You are most gracious, Pat, but I couldn't accept."

"OK, let me see here. If I were your colleague, Dick Foster, would you share a room with him under the circumstances?"

"Uhm, I guess you are right. I am a latent sexist."

"Not so latent, I think, but come on up. Oh, I had a male roommate in college and we got along fine after we settled in. Don't worry."

She was gracious in her hospitality. We quickly organized the large bathroom counter and the luggage spots and I got on the Internet furiously to solve my identity problem. Being penniless in San Francisco gives one a glimpse into how the other half lives. I don't want to know more. Within minutes, American Express said they would have a card to me, either by courier or FedEx in the morning. At least, I could eat and pay my hotel bill.

After we changed clothes and freshened up, she said wryly, "I know that you were planning to take me out to a lavish dinner to show your gratitude, but I do have other plans. I made sure that the hotel would give you room service so that you could eat, if necessary."

Although I do not yet like her, in all fairness, she is physically attractive. She turns heads. She behaved graciously. "Thank you. That is most trusting and considerate."

I had a productive evening on the computer tuning up my presentation and making it nicer. I had good room service and a decent meal that I could eat at the table. Not what I would have chosen, but pretty good for luck. I realized that it was now about ten and the meetings were over. The minglers would be cruising the lobby of the Hilton. It was time to seek adult company.

Then I realized it—no key. I didn't have a key to my room. I was a prisoner. If I went out, I'd have to knock for Pat when I got home. Just then, I heard giggling and muted conversation outside the door. On a whim, I went to open it and look out at the graduate students who were making noise in the hall. There, I also found Pat with her mouth on another fellow seeming to enjoy her situation.

I caught her eye and whispered, "Key?"

Without looking up, she found her spare keycard and put it in my hand. I signaled "2 hours?" and she nodded, never leaving the lips of her suitor.

Wow! I had at least two hours to go seeking entertainment from the minglers. I had been through a long dry spell and looked forward to finding someone interesting who had her own room. They were all bright as hell, but some of them were much more interesting than others. That's what I sought in the impressive halls of the large Hilton.

You lose your money and credit cards in the morning, a colleague saves your ass, and there, walking down the hall alone was Barbara. As usual, dressed to the teeth in her four-inch heels and revealing black dress with side-slits. Her cleavage was exactly right, accenting the superb shape of her breasts. She was the same old Barbara with longer blond hair. Although we had been divorced for several years, she could still get a rise out of me and make my heart race with her smile. I know she had on colored contacts to brighten her blue eyes and as usual, I was sinking into them with my gut fluttering.

She put her hand on my arm and smiled, "Buy me a drink, Blevin?"

"I'll buy you the Golden Gate Bridge, too?"

"Just one?"

"Barbara, love, I have no money. I lost my wallet and credit cards. Were it not for the kindness of a colleague, I would be sleeping on the street."

She laughed at my hopeless plight. "You will not, by God, sleep on the street. You will sleep with me and if you are any good at all, I will feed you."

"OK, now I know what I am and we're just quibbling about price! I know you don't believe me. Here, feel in my pockets."

"You are a perverted son-of-a-bitch." Then, she stood very close and felt my back pocket, then my front pocket and all she found was a BART ticket left over from a previous trip. She also gave me a nice squeeze in the right place to get my attention. Ah, the same perfume.

"You still have a nice touch and you smell familiar!"

"Come with me. We'll get a drink in my room."

With that, I let her lead me to the elevator and what I hoped would be an interesting night.

Barbara often brought out the best in both of us and we managed to give each other fantastic pleasure—just like the old days. Sometimes, I wondered why I left her. Yeah, sucker, she left you for a job out west and you just let her go. Although we were divorced and living thousands of miles apart, these impediments did not prevent our occasional sexual adventures at professional meetings or sometimes mutually agreed assignations in interesting places. We had an arrangement in which we could have sexual encounters if we chose, so long as neither of us was committed to someone else. Although we were legally divorced, neither of us had yet found a suitable replacement. She seemed as delighted to see me, as I was to see her.

She showed her class and mixed our drinks from the minibar without having to ask. She took out some crackers and cheese and made a little party for us. She sat on her feet on the sofa and melted me with her smile, "Where did you lose it?" Then she caught the stupidity of the question and laughed. "Yeah, I know. Even you are smart enough to go get it if you knew."

I laughed. She leaned over showing me the great cleavage I had seen many times before but never tired of seeing and held her face for a kiss. I was lost in her smile and presence. She had this way of kissing that went on and on and she always murmured these little soft sounds like "Ummmmm," that continued until she was worked up.

She sat back and said, "Well, I was right. You're a ten in that department. I'm glad you lost your wallet because if you hadn't, you might not have kissed me. I do miss it."

"Yes, I miss it, too."

She sat back and we chatted for fifteen minutes about our work and lives and loves, or lack of them. She had recently disengaged from an unpromising relationship and wanted a new start. She refreshed our drinks and leaned over again, this time, putting her head against the back of the sofa with her long blond hair providing a backdrop. I kissed her and she started that humming again, sort of like a cat purring in pleasure. I mean, when Barbara liked it, she let you know! After a lengthy kiss I started to pull away and she pulled my head back to her.

She whispered, "Not yet, darling, you do that better than anyone. I forgot how much I liked it." We resumed for another lengthy encounter before she backed away and said, "OK, I've had my quick fix. That should last a few minutes until we get in bed."

Getting her in bed had dominated my thoughts since I first saw her downstairs. Having her come out and say it that way let me know that it was at the front of her mind, too. That made me anxious and my breathing was impaired for a few seconds. It had been a while since I had her in my arms and I realized that I needed it right then.

We undressed ourselves and went beside her king size bed. I couldn't keep my eyes off her body. She could have been a model.

She smiled with her arms up, naked, "Do you think I'm getting fat?"

"Yes, you've gained two pounds and I like where it went."

"Actually three and it went to my butt."

"That's just what I said. I like where it went."

She put her naked body against me to be kissed and whispered, "You always were a butt man. I'm glad you like it." Another kiss, "Shall we recline?"

Barbara is constantly vocal while having a sexual encounter. First, with the humming/purring while kissing. Then, when I feel her body, she becomes more coherent, "Oh, that's good. Yeah. You remember that place. Oh, darling, I love it when you play with my pubic hair." Every few seconds, she gives more encouragement.

She knows how much I like her murmurs and how much she makes me burn with desire. She goes wild with foreplay and I never try to get her off too soon. After many kisses and many caresses, her voice becomes more demanding. That's when I begin stroking her clit as lightly as I can. I put the heel of my hand on her pubic bone so that when she thrusts up, my hand doesn't move—it is well anchored.

About the third time she says, "Don't you dare tease me like that, you bastard! No! For God's sake touch me more! Harder!" Then she has this violent spasm and makes more noise than a train whistle. She starts the next chorus, which is, "Oh, Oh, Oh!" Each of these lasts about ten seconds, starting with a high pitch and gradually going lower until she stops. She pauses a few breaths and repeats the cycle time and again. Then she has another spasm and resumes her song.

By now, I'm crazy with desire and she knows what her words do to me. "Please fuck me, Blevin. Just like you used to. I need it bad."

I push myself in her and she almost sobs, "Oh, God. That is the best I ever had. You feel so goooood in there. Oh, Blevin, darling, do it." Then, she has another orgasm... and, another. "You are the greatest man that ever lived! More!"

I have run out of resolve and know that my finish will be soon. "You've done it again, you bitch. You have driven me to premature ejaculation with your screams." Then, I spurt and almost pass out from the pleasure. She feels the spurts and comes again, throwing her legs around me making loud pleasure noises. I know the porn film soundmen are in the next room capturing these moments for the eternal pleasure of their audiences.

When a rocket goes up that high, it takes a while to come down. While she comes down, she demands to be kissed and starts that purring/moaning all over again. I roll onto my side and bring her close to me.

She holds me for a minute, and then says, "Get off my leg. My friend, Anita, gets spider veins from her man lying on her thigh. I don't want those."

We disentangle and she puts her whole body against me. She holds her head back and says, "You are the best! That's why I married you. No one ever makes it that good for me. I shudder when I think I could have missed this tonight."

I was getting misty eyed, "Yeah, you're still a ten." I always question that I'm the best she ever had and even occasionally doubt that I am the greatest man that ever lived, but she is always effusive with her praise. Drives me to a new personal best every time.

We slept in our traditional spoon with one of my hands on her breast. She always puts her hand on top of mine and squeezes, then moves it after a few minutes and then presses her butt back into my belly so that she can go to sleep. I felt her drop off and shortly thereafter, I heard the phone ring with the wake-up call.

She rolled over and kissed me. "I have an eight o'clock paper session to chair. Shower with me?"

We had our usual delightful shower of rubbing and washing and feeling all over each other's body. As we dried ourselves, she looked over, "I don't know how I ever forget that thing we have in bed. I know I'm selfish, but I'm still glad you lost your wallet."

Just before we went out to the world, she turned to be kissed. It lasted two minutes. As we walked to the elevator, she put a twenty in my hand. As we waited, she said, "I know you're worth more, but that'll get you breakfast. I can't afford another three pounds."

I pinched her butt on the elevator, "Yes, you can add three pounds." I pinched again, "You know, I'd have done it for free."

Her elbow went directly into my ribs. "If you'd asked for thirty, you'd have been back out there on the street." We arrived at her floor and I stood out with her a minute.

She said, "Blevin, darling, I loved every minute of our time. Please don't find me tonight. I couldn't handle it."

I kissed her cheek. "I couldn't either. Go do good things today." With that, I caught the next elevator to go 'home' to "my" quarters to get ready for the meetings. I slipped the keycard into the lock and started to open the door, but it was latched from the inside. Uh, oh. Pat came to the door and whispered out, "Could you give me about ten minutes. I seem to be running behind."

What would have happened if I had returned after two hours last night? I went back downstairs and watched CNN in the lobby until I saw her fellow emerge from the elevator. I knew his name, but couldn't immediately recall it. He was important. I had this strange territorial feeling about his being with my roommate. Why did I care?

Ready for my morning ritual, I quickly went back upstairs and put my keycard in the slot. It worked. After I walked in the room and locked it, Pat came out of the bath nude. Having just finished blowing her shiny brown hair she stood and smiled at me, "Sorry. I had to get the sweat off me and dry my hair before going to the meetings." Standing nude as a statue, she fumbled in her suitcase and found her underwear. "I'm not going to live with anyone and worry all the time that they will see me or that I will see them. It happens. Get used to it. Your turn in the shower. I'll bet you need to wash off some sin, too!"

I didn't mention that I just came from the shower. Over the breakfast that she agreed to buy, she asked with a smile, "Have a nice time last night?"

"I did, surprisingly, with my ex, and you?"

"Last time for him, I'm afraid. I can only go so far for the superstars who... uh, aren't. He's important, but we are going nowhere. You still get along with your ex?"

"Sleeping together is one thing we did well. How about you? Did you leave a trail of broken hearts?"

She blushed again. "Well, I prompted some fistfights in my early glamorous days." She laughed. "My ex and I have nothing more in common. I would not return to his bed. Wouldn't want to stand in line."

"Oh, that sounds interesting!"

"He was smooth and could talk almost anyone into bed. Even after we were married, he kept trying to feed his ego with cute young things. His ego had a voracious appetite. I was a cute young thing, too, but I got tired of competing."

"I cannot imagine your having to compete for a man."

The compliment apparently surprised her, "Only my husband! He got into swinging and wanted to do it all the time. I was willing to spice things up once in a while, but not every week. So, he took his pathology and found other outlets."

"Miss him?"

"Sometimes when I go skiing, the memories flash. But, I am recovered." She then looked startled, "Here I am revealing my emotional soul to you and I barely know you. We should get on with the day."

"You can unload on me any time. I have to thank you for all this. You made my catastrophe minimal and you fed me well. If you're ever willing to play that show again upstairs, I will be your most appreciative audience."

She blushed brilliant red. It lasted. Finally, she settled. "For God's sake, I don't know why I care what you think, but all this emotion over our former spouses surprises even me."

I looked at my watch. "Pat, within minutes FedEx will take me out of your worry. I must have my own room. I think if I stayed in yours, I might want to stay there longer. Beautiful naked women have that effect on me."

She blushed again. Far too long for an experienced sexual woman. "Thank you. That felt nice. I needed a little pickup this morning."

I went to the desk, assuming that they held my room. They had not, although I had guaranteed it. After a hassle, they agreed to put me up free the next night, but I had no place for tonight, even with a real credit card. Pat overheard my argument and said, "Hell, what's one more night. Come on home."

That night, we both ended up sleeping in our own beds after a rather long evening of receptions and huddles with colleagues plotting against the rest. We attended several receptions together—it just seemed to happen. I introduced her to Barbara at one of the receptions. We left together and went to the next one together.

At the end of the day in our room, I was last out of the bathroom so I went over to her bed and "tucked" her in and gave her a peck on the forehead like a daughter. "Night, Pat. I enjoyed our reception sojourn. Sleep well."

After that peck, she puckered her lips and I took it as an invitation and gave her a soft gentle kiss.

"That's more like it. You sleep well, too. I feel like I just came home from a real date. Thank you for looking after me."

We were silent for a while, and then she asked in the dark, "Did you spend last night with that foxy blond Barbara?"

"Yes. She is my ex."

"She left you, I guess."

I sighed, "Yes. We had a career conflict."

"I'm sorry, Blevin. My remark was terribly unkind. Can you forgive me? I didn't mean to pry."

"Of course. I have forgiven many others before you. Have to live with it."

She came to my bed and hugged me and kissed me nicely. "I am sorry. Could we, maybe, start new tomorrow?"

I patted her butt, which was all I could reach, "Sure. I know you didn't mean to hurt me. One of life's hazards."

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