Riley and Wilfred Burton, that's us. We married upon graduation from college; we were only twenty-two, but we were madly in love. Aged 37, now, the both of us. We met nineteen years gone when she'd come to William S. Goddard High as a transfer in her, our, senior year.
She was the prettiest girl I'd ever seen, and I decided I had to have her at any cost. That tab, the price of falling in love with her, would be a long time coming due, but, when it did; it would prove to be more than I was willing to pay.
That last year in prep school was wild. We'd gotten each other's cherry, and everything looked rosy. Upon graduation we both attended the University of Chicago on partial scholarship—the only way our parents could afford it even with us working part time to defray some of the costs. We eventually staggered out of school both having gotten our degrees in Business Management. GPAs? Hers 3.74, mine 3.68. She never let me forget that she'd bested me by .06 grade points.
We tied the knot three months after graduation and began life in earnest. Early on, we'd talked over how we were going to launch our lives. Finally, it was decided that Riley would go to work while I went after the MBA. Because of that decision having kids was put on the back burner. Her job? Milford wholesalers. Milford Inc. was a wholesaler of a universe of products: everything from computer software to ladies lingerie. Milford's clients were mostly general merchandise retail chains along with any number of independents in the same lines.
Upon graduation with my MBA, I went looking for a job. One week into the process I came home to find a strange car parked in my driveway; it was 4:00PM. Oh, and it was a very nice car: a Cadillac actually. The owner of the ride was in our living room sipping tea. The man was dressed in what had to be a three-thousand dollar suit. Sitting next to him was my wife.
"Hi honey, we have a guest," said Riley, standing and coming to me, she planted a wifely kiss on my cheek and smiled—broadly. I gave her a questioning look, and smiled back at her. She led me over to the man, who stood and shook my hand.
"Honey, this is John Milford. He owns the company I work for," said Riley.
"How do you do, sir?" I said.
"Good. And you, young man," he said." I responded appropriately.
Riley took my hand a led me to the chair across from the couch and gave my hand a small squeeze in the doing of it.
I was suitably impressed with the stranger who I judged to be in his late forties. And, well I might have been impressed. At my then age of twenty-five, he was exactly what I thought I would someday be myself if things worked out they way I hoped.
Riley was dressed very nicely too. A lot nicer than usual. I figured her efforts had to do with the presence of the man I was shaking hands with. It was but a moment later that I discovered how right I was.
I motioned the man to have a seat. He reseated himself and I followed suit. My wife still smiling brightly joined him. I thought it a little odd that she was sitting on the couch by him instead of by me, but it wasn't odd enough for me to say anything.
"Honey, Joh—mister Milford, has something for us," she said. And, yes I did notice that she had almost used the first name of the man, but had caught herself in mid-pronunciation and had used the more formal appellation instead. I let it go.
"Yes, Mr. Burton," he said. "Actually, I am here to offer you a job. Your wife works directly under one of my division chiefs and does such a good job that when she came to me, to us, to ask about job opportunities for someone with your background, or actually, you; we gave her a listen; and well, here we are."
"Oh—okay—I mean really? What..." I stuttered.
"Initially you would be working under Rod Mercer, he handles independent outlets all over the country for us. You'd be his field liaison with our various suppliers of product. You'd be answering directly to him.
"It's a good job, Mr. Burton. Definitely not an entry level position. A lot will be expected of you if you sign on," he said. "The job does require a deal of travel too, I should add." I nodded.
"Rlies?" I said. She nodded vigorously.
"Oh yes, honey, this is just what we, you, were hoping for. And we'll be working for the same company. Not the same divisions, but at least the same firm," she said.
I threw up my hands. I was happy, I guess; at least my search was over. My wife was happy for sure. Nothing had been said about income at that point, but I was betting it would be pretty good, or my wife wouldn't have been so ebullient. "Okay," I said. "When do I start and where and..."
"You start Monday, if that's all right," said Mr. Milford. "Pay is seventy-five annual if you care," he said. He was smiling as he said it; he clearly expected me to be pleased. I was; I mean especially after he'd announced the pay scale.
"It's fine, and I do care!" I said, letting my enthusiasm show.
"Well, good, young man. I should tell you that you will be accompanying Mr. Mercer almost immediately on a short trip, kind of a training junket for you," he said. "But, well, Mr. Mercer will fill you in on that on Monday."
The small talk, and some not so small talk, continued for a little bit; finally, the big man, stood, said his goodbyes, and we showed him out.
My wife and I were alone. We faced each other, and she started to laugh, a little hysterically, I thought, but it was kind of a crazy moment. Crazy enough to cover up some glaring reasons for concern, I'd later realize; that, much, much later. What reasons? What concerns?
One, finding a well known CEO of a major company sitting in the living room of essentially an inexperienced kid, me. My wife's good record with the company the man ran notwithstanding.
Two, I'd hoped and prayed, that I could find an entry level job that paid 40K in what was essentially a lousy job market. To be offered a mid-level position at almost twice that amount should have been a red flag for damn sure.
Three, I was going to be travelling, and that almost immediately at company's expense. Travelling and presumably buying with virtually no experience; oh yeah, that definitely should have been a tell.
My upcoming trip with Mr. Mercer would likely be a good learning experience, but was that going to be enough for someone as green as me. I made a pledge to myself that I was going to do my damnedest to make sure it was—but still...
Mr. Mercer would likely turn out to be a manager with top notch skills, but it just didn't feel right, or more accurately shouldn't have felt right.
But all such thoughts were far from me at that moment. Indeed, though all was more than surreal, was I complaining or suspicious or concerned? Not on your life. I was young, and confident and immortal and all of the usual things. Cloud nine had never been so firmly occupied as it was by me at that moment.
"Mr. Milford will see you now, miss Burton," said the receptionist. She started down the hall, stopped at a framed picture of some former VIP and appraised herself in the reflection from the glass.
Not bad, she thought: young and gorgeous, a great combination. Her tight middie skirt, her matching tan blouse, her spikes all complemented what she saw in that reflection. Yes, ma'am, she smiled to herself, Riley Burton is one very successful executive secretary, and more than well appreciated by the company CEO.
That appreciation of her—uhr—talents had its rewards. She'd been able to see to it that her beloved man, Wilfred Langford Burton, her Will, got the job he wanted and deserved; and, at a much higher salary than he—even she—expected. Of course there was a price, but it was one she was more than willing to pay, she thought.
She entered his office without knocking. "Hi boss," she said, seating herself across from him and in front of his desk.
"And good morning to you missus Burton," he said, smiling. "How is hubby today, if I may ask?"
"He's happy as a clam, and so am I," she said.
"Not suspicious of my generosity?" said the man.
"No. I guess one could say he's in a state of wonderment at the moment. Mister Milford, John, I hope he doesn't disappoint you," said Riley.
"I'm not worried. Mercer's a good man. He'll teach him the ropes, and if I'm any judge, your husband will make the grade. But, don't worry, his job is in no danger regardless. He has an insurance policy in you. But—uh—I think it may be time for you to pay one of your insurance premiums. Don't you?" he said.
"Certainly," she said. She stood, turned, locked the door, and came to him. Kneeling in front of him, she pulled down his zipper and felt his cock through his underpants. She grinned. "Looks like you're ready for me."
"Oh yeah," he said. Pulling his cock out of his pants, she stroked it slowly and surveyed its eight-inch length and wrist thick girth; her husband's equipment was maybe half the size of this magnificent fuck engine, she thought; she sighed at the thought.
She began licking and sucking him. It felt like she had a slightly curved steel rod in her mouth. In but a few minutes she felt him shudder. He came—hard and long and copiously; she swallowed it all.
Cleaning himself up, he watched as she straightened her cloths. She leaned back against the desk and watched as he zipped up. She smiled.
Done, he leaned back in his chair, once more the imperial CEO. "You know, Mrs. Burton, I can't figure it. You're smart, pretty, sexy to the nth degree: and yet, you married a man who is pretty clearly beneath you. Oh, don't get me wrong, I'm sure he's a great guy and all, but... ?"
.... There is more of this story ...