Word spread quickly that I was an asset on sales trips. Maybe that would get me out of the office occasionally with trips to exotic places. With Harriett jetting all over the country, sitting home alone even with a substantial and growing porn collection of books, videos and photos was tiresome. So, when I got the email that I was going to see a customer alone, I was quite shocked. I wasn't the shake-hands, smiley-faced deal closer. I was the factual, technically astute back room guy who got overpromises delivered.
The presentation, fortunately, was to a technical team at one of our existing clients. And the material had already been compiled into one of those obnoxious slide presentations. I preferred to have chalkboard chats, although white boards were the new norm. I was told to show the slides but not read them, as some of the sales geeks did, talk about the topic on the slide, ask for questions and move on. I could do that easily.
One quirk in this smooth plan was that Archie Green was updating the current version of the presentation with new product info and he was home sick. I needed to stop at his house on the way to the airport and pick up an electronic copy. No paper handouts with this client, who'd gone completely ecological. Passing out copies of the presentation from a tall stack of sacrificed trees would insult their culture, something even I knew to avoid.
Archie's nose was raw from generic tissues when he answered the door in his bathrobe. His voice was nasal. "Good, you're here. I've got the presentation almost ready on my computer."
Almost? I had to leave, and quickly. I followed him through the bedroom wing of his ranch home. We passed a girl's bedroom, with pink walls and clothes strewn on the floor. A white blouse and familiar plaid skirt lay on the top of the pile. That was Inga's uniform. "Is your daughter in private school?"
"Sure thing. Got to keep her away for sex, drugs and violence."
I chuckled to myself.
The next room was a spare bedroom, the family office. An older PC sat on a desk cluttered with sheets and scraps of paper, CDs without envelopes, magazines, you name it. The presentation was on screen. Looked good to me. I pulled out my trusty USB thumb drive. "Put it on here."
"How much space is available on that thing?"
The thumb drive held my traveling porn set for keeping me occupied in the hotel room. It would certainly save me big bucks on X-rated movie rentals. "A couple hundred meg. Should be enough."
Archie shook his head and snarfed mucus before it dripped from his nose. "Tashun made me add a personal video. Takes just under two gig."
Shit! I didn't have time for this. The file was also too big for a CD. "You got a DVD burner in that thing?"
Archie repeated his negative head motion. "Nope."
I saw that Archie's PC was wired directly into DSL. No home network, so we couldn't use file sharing to get the monster presentation off his PC onto my Mac laptop.
"Now what?" he asked.
"You got anything else? Memory cards or something with larger capacity?"
Archie's eyebrows and the corner of his lips rose. "Claire has a digital camera I got for her birthday. And a two gig memory card." Archie stumbled from the room and returned with a USB media reader with a card sticking out of one of the slots. He plugged the device into his computer and checked for available space. "Damn thing is almost half full."
"Tell you what. I'll burn the contents of the memory card onto a blank CD while you finish your work. Then we'll copy the presentation onto the card."
"Great!" Archie unplugged the media reader and handed it to me. Then he pointed to a spindle of blank disks. While he typed, clicked, changed fonts and repositioned text boxes, I burnt the camera data onto the blank CD. It just fit.
"Done," he announced.
"Me too." I erased the memory card, unmounted it and handed him the media reader. He dutifully saved the updated presentation to the card. In a flash, I was out the door.
I slept in the airport at the gate and again on the airplane. The droning hum of the engine was white noise, letting me catch up on too many late nights surfing for college girls who'd gone wild and naked.
My plan was to check into the hotel and read though the presentation to get comfortable with the sequence of topics and see what new products and services they'd added. I knew the background and details like my own name, so there wouldn't have to be any learning. When I opened my Mac laptop, I noticed the icon for the CD. Damn, I hadn't left Archie the CD I'd burned with his photos. From his daughter's camera. Hmm. I opened my favorite slide show player, the one I'd use to view my erotic photo collection and pointed it at the CD. The CD drive whirred and clicked to life. In a few seconds, the first picture arrived on screen. Was this Claire? I advanced with a click. The next photo was of the same young lady. Someone else had taken these pictures because Claire's hands were in the frames. She might have used a tripod and a timer, but I doubted it.
She must have taken after her mother's looks because Archie wasn't close to being this cute. The pictures started out with Claire posing in her pink room. The stack of clothes was familiar, so these pictures had been taken recently. They started out quite sterile, Claire posing stiff with plastered on grins. Then, one strap of her tank top off her shoulder. Her expression turned to anxiety. Was this minor issue a problem? Then the other strap off her shoulder, and the tank top lowered to expose the top edge of an overflowing bra. The photographer was coaching her to disrobe. Damn, a strip show. I unzipped my pants and dropped my jockeys. This was better than some third-rate porn flick on the hotel's cable system. That series ended abruptly but another series started. Claire was wearing a long beige dress, probably intended for prom or some other formal event. Her nipples showed as she stretched her arms above her head. Did she know they were sticking out? In slow increments, she raised the hem of the dress. Facing away, she exposed her calves, then the back of her knees, stopping at her waist, her panties and ass cheeks on display. God, she had a nice butt, roundness protruding from both sides of skimpy undies. The next series were in a bathroom. Claire was in a t-shirt. Again, it was clear she wasn't wearing a bra. The size and shape of her breasts were obvious as she pulled the material tight against her chest. In one shot, the photographer was reflected in the mirror over the sink. Damn if it wasn't Norma of The Perfect Breasts. So Norma was directing these photo sessions. In the last bathroom picture, Claire's t-shirt was damp, either by her own hand or more likely by an unsuspected dousing by Norma. The shape and size of Claire's nipples were no longer a secret. Although her breasts weren't as large or fine as Norma's, they were lovely in their own right, with bloated nipples as a bonus.
I looked down between my legs. I'd been jerking myself subconsciously as I viewed Claire's photos. I'd gotten close to blowing my load. Archie would blow his stack if he knew Claire was a party to this kind of behavior.
I took a pause from the voyeur's tour of my colleague's daughter and took a cleansing breath. I couldn't show him this stuff. Hell, I couldn't even tell him. And what about Claire? These photos were hers, taken with her camera. They were her property, and I was obligated to return them. The idea of being in the room with her, handing her the CD - well, my prick pulsed at the possibilities. Wait a second. This was the daughter of a co-worker. I had rules against lascivious behavior when it came to the workplace. Despite those rules, I'd fucked Tashun's niece Reese six ways from Sunday. What rules applied to Claire, if any?
I went to bed, tossing and turning, unable to get the pictures of Claire out of my mind. So, at one in the morning, I booted my computer and returned to the slideshow that I'd aborted. The next series started out pretty tame, with Claire in a zip-up long sleeve hoodie and jeans. The jeans went first, exposing see-through pink panties. Then the zipper dropped, perhaps three inches per photo, until the hoodie was open and the inside edges of Claire's naked breasts grabbed my attention at the same time my right hand was grabbing my dick. No nipples but plenty of skin. That's when I noticed that Claire's figure had one flaw. From her upper chest to her hips, her body was two straight lines. No curve at the waist whatsoever. With clothes on, she seemed a bit chunky, but in various states of undress, she was positively hot. Maybe because when breasts or groin are available visually, no man thinks about whether the woman has a waist, just not letting her nakedness go to waste.
Claire had changed into a flower print dress. She laid on her stomach in the living room, holding her head up above folded arms. Norma had moved around and took feet-first shots. The back of the dress retreated, until I was looking at a leg runway terminating at Claire's g-string covered ass. My dick was ready for take off. I heard my breathing deepen.
Claire had moved to a sofa for the next shot. She sprawled against one arm in a skirt and sleeveless blouse. As she sat leaning forward, the collar of the shirt hung down. A clear valley between the mounds of her breasts appeared. That position made her tits seem larger than when she stood up. The hanging effect, I call it. When she sat back and hugged her knees to her chest, her panties pressed tight against her pussy between fleshy thighs. I was treated to the shape and contour of her lower lips and the crease between them.
.... There is more of this story ...