Chapter 1

Tall and blonde, beautiful Cherie Daventry, the youngest secretary with the Intercorp business group this week, was getting to know her way around the big house after being there for twenty-four hours, learning to find the cosy room they had given her overlooking the swimming pool that was built in the atrium of the house, getting to know the twisting and turning of the halls that led to the many rooms where the executives and the secretaries were staying during this most important business week of the year, trying to establish a friendly relationship with her colleagues, most of whom she had known only very superficially, if at all, a few days before.

This was the week that the executives of the powerful Intercorp Trading Company got together in the seclusion of the San Bernardino Mountains and brainstormed on methods to improve business in the coming year. The men brought the best stenographers from the secretarial pool and met daily around the great mahogany table in the large, warm, and comfortable conference room downstairs to make suggestions, air complaints, and generally toss around ideas that could make trading more efficient and profitable. The secretaries were always on hand with stenography books and were lodged in an adjoining, but separate, wing of the house. Not that the men and women were that rigidly separated. The way the girls were given their own section was more to make them feel comfortable than to create a wall. Cherie was sure there was at least some mixing going on when it suited two people, though they must generally be discreet meetings that occurred, for the young nineteen-year-old had only noticed one definite romance.

That was last night when she had looked out her window over the pool. She had been asleep when some noise, the voices of a man and a woman, had awakened her. The young girl had crept to the window and observed while Diane Layne, one of her colleagues in secretarial, had howled out her orgasm as Cleophas Powell, the massively built black man who was supervisor of marketing, had humped and pounded between the brunette's uplifted white thighs until she had shrieked in hedonistic joy. Cherie had peeked ashamedly, repelled and excited at the same time by the sight of the black man with the white woman, as she observed the sex act for the first time in her life. She had had no idea what it would be like to watch or could be like to actually participate in for Cherie was a virgin.

She had watched the provocative sight, hoping that there was no one in the other rooms across the atrium who might see her from behind those dark windows, for there was one room whose window, always wide open, was perpendicular to hers, and just a few feet away. She had wondered if there was anyone occupying that room, but decided that it was not being used this week because she had seen no light or movement in it.

And so with wide-eyed wonder she had watched the animal display below her while the summer breeze wafted through the folds of her diaphanous nightgown and the heat of vicarious excitement had burned between her tender and untouched thighs.

Cherie had only been working for Intercorp for a few months when the excellence of her work had brought her to the attention of the higher-ups. Her shorthand was superb and her typing, at ninety words a minute, was very accurate. She was meticulous in what she did and her mind was sharp and alert. A brief session taking dictation for her boss, Herb Melville, had shown her potential and so he had personally invited her on the working week in the mountains.

Herb Melville was a big and powerful man with a handsome, ruggedly- lined face, thinning hair, a generous businessman's paunch, and a striking, hawklike nose. His eyes were warm but sharp and Cherie knew that she would have to watch herself this week to make sure she didn't spoil her chance of a raise and a higher position. She didn't need a very sharp mind to know how much she needed this job, what with her mother so deathly ill and the doctor's bills that needed paying. No, this job was more important to her than just a career move though that could be in the offing now that medical school seemed such a difficult attainment it was a matter of life and death necessity, when she thought about it.

Pressures were severe at home. Mother, usually so loving, had attacks of irritability due to her dangerous illness that were often directed at Cherie herself. And that sweet, devoted woman had been reluctant to let her teenage daughter go away for these two weekends and the five days in between, leaving her to shift for herself. Mother had complained that Cherie would not be going to church as always, way up there in the mountains. Cherie had promised in turn to bring her Bible but she had forgotten it at the last minute.

Cherie opened the door to her room and walked in to begin immediately getting ready for bed. It had been a long day, full of work. She had taken more shorthand, transcribed more cassette tapes, and typed more letters than she cared to think about. They had spent most of the day sitting around the huge conference table in a large room on the first floor of the house, she and two other secretaries taking orders from the eight male and one female, Allison Cooper executives.

Cherie had been lucky to be able to come along this time and have the opportunity to show the execs what she could do. She could easily have had to wait years to get this chance, so when the usual girl for the junket a stunning, slender redhead named Sally had come to her and asked her to take her place for the nine-day stint, Cherie readily accepted. When Cherie asked why Sally did not want to go, the older secretary was vague as she expressed her distaste, stating that she had already been on three of them and that it just wasn't her kind of the thing, now that she was engaged to be married to a lawyer. Cherie had no idea why her engagement should get in the way of work, but she had no intention of protesting the opportunity that had just been laid in her lap. So Herb Melville had called her in for an interview, remarked with a smile that she was very, very pretty, and then filled her in on the details of what she would be doing up there in the mountains with the most important men in the company. And so here she was.

When she drove with Herb through the gate of the house, she gasped. Here, set in the midst of the forest, high in the mountains, with the noon sun of June filtering through the leaves of the trees, was a beautiful house with four wings, three stories, and a wide veranda flanked by stone columns. Cherie got out of the Mercedes and mounted the stairs while a man in work clothes carried in her suitcases. And then, as she walked through the front door, with Melville behind her, she ran full into the hard masculine chest of the handsomest young man she had ever seen. Tall and blue-eyed, with smooth skin, classically chiselled features, and light brown hair, his eyes sparkled when he saw her. Their eyes met, deeply, and she caught her breath.

"Hi," he said. "I'm Ron Wolter." Cherie had seen him before, at the office, as he hurried by in the performance of his duties, and she had often wished he would notice her and speak to her when she broke out in a blush of excitement and that spot between her legs began to burn. The truth was that she had harbored a crush for this handsomest of men and now she found herself in the same house with him at last and for a whole week, it appeared.

She paused, trying to find words, then said lamely, and simply, "I'm Cherie Daventry."

They stared at each other a long time before they noticed that Herb Melville was standing behind her, waiting patiently to pass.

"Well, hurry up," Melville said, in mock irritation, "and ask her to dance."

Ron chuckled and turned to lead the way into the house, which happened to belong to Melville himself and was opulently furnished and decorated. It was a house that befit a man of Melville's stature and importance as chief stockholder and head of a corporation like Intercorp. Cherie was shown to her room and given a while to rest and freshen up before the start of her duties at what was to be a daily meeting of minds of the heads of the productive head of the corporation.

Their day began at three that afternoon when the entire party of nine executives and three secretaries sat at the giant conference table to plan the next four months of business operations at Intercorps. The work was concentrated and sweaty for her, but Cherie still found time to glance up often at Ron Wolter, and many times she found him looking at her with soft eyes. And she smiled back. When the meeting broke up at seven-thirty, Cherie was exhausted, still reluctant to leave Ron Wolter's exciting presence to go to her room to retire for the evening.

Dinner was brought to her and after a quick bite, she showered, dressed in her sheer blue nightgown, and went to bed. And that was when she was awakened by the activity down by the pool, below her window. The sound of movement and the voices of a man and woman attracted her from her bed in curiosity. She crept quietly to her window and peered out, seeking the source of the sounds that had roused her from a troubled sleep. It didn't take her long to find Diane Layne and Cleophas Powell, for they were down on the pool deck on a thick blanket entwined in a lustful embrace.

At first, Cherie had recoiled from the sight. She knew people did those things, that married people made love, and that sometimes even people who weren't married did those things, but she had had no idea that it had looked like that. Cleophas' strong, black buttocks were rising and falling, driving his huge, glistening ebony penis into Diane between her wide-spread, uplifted legs. The girl's pretty features were contorted with lust and passion and unrestrained grunts, groans, and sighs were rushing out between her wet lips as Cleophas moved upon, and inside of, her.

Cherie looked around to see if anyone else was watching from the other open windows perhaps she wanted to see if there anyone could see her watching those down below and when she concluded that she was alone in her curious voyeurism, she kneeled on the soft, wide couch that backed up to her window, and settled down to watch. She knew it was wrong to be so curious, so interested in this illicit act, but in her innocence and inexperience she was so strongly attracted to what was going on, perhaps because of her unhealthy interest in Ron Wolter, that she couldn't help herself. She began to fantasize that she was doing this very thing with the handsome young man and her fingers strayed across the chiffon covering her belly to her smooth, warm thighs and thence to the tender, damp spot between them where she found the center of her own pleasure, just as she had on several other occasions when the heat in her own healthy body became too much to bear. She really couldn't imagine herself doing the thing that Diane was doing down there, not with any man before marriage, and especially not with a black man, which she found repellent, but she could fantasize as long as it was someone else down there.

So when her body had shaken in one of her rare self- induced orgasms and the juices had flowed from her tingling, pink pussy down her fingers, Cherie had burned with shame before lying back on her bed and finished the night with a deep and well-deserved sleep.

The next day was more of the same in the conference room, with Diane Layne sitting nowhere near Cleophas nor acknowledging any kind of attachment to him as indicated by their activities of the night before. It seemed incredible to Cherie that two people could do what they had done and act so cold and aloof the next day. She supposed it had something to do with protocol and decorum. Of course they had made love and there were no house rules or company rules against that. Cherie had heard the girls in the office talking about it, about the things they did with men, so even though she had been shocked and could not imagine herself doing such a thing willingly at least, not before marriage she knew that many girls did it with their boyfriends and men at the office. She had even heard one of the girls, Candy Holmes, talking about having had sex with the boss, Mr. Melville. While Cherie had stood at the coffee machine, pretending not to listen while Candy spilled the story to another typist, the naughty girl had talked excitedly about Mr. Melville's big, heavy body and his huge penis. Cherie had felt a frisson of fearful excitement shoot up her spine at the thought of the massive penis ramming into Candy's vagina, and, vicariously, into her own. Cherie had felt a dampness develop between her legs and she had had a hard time keeping her mind on her work the rest of the day.

Work had gone on that second day at the big house in the mountains with the same businesslike intensity as the previous day, but as they broke for lunch, Cherie's sharp eyes caught a furtive glance that passed between Sue Midori, a lovely oriental girl and Vic Torres, the forty-ish man of Mexican descent who handled the company's business for Latin America. Curious, Cherie hung back, rearranging her note-pads while everyone filed out for a rest and a meal in their respective rooms.

Vic and Sue didn't see Cherie walking behind them when they ducked into the storage room in the hall outside the conference room. The door didn't close properly and the two conspirators didn't seem to care as they disappeared. Curious, suspicious, Cherie stopped and looked through the crack between the door and the jamb. It was a linen closet, with sheets stacked neatly on shelves and dinner settings on others but it was what Sue and Vic were doing on the bottom shelf that captured Cherie's attention.

Sue's blouse was already open and her small, round breasts were naked and being fondled and sucked by the ravenous Vic.

"I've wanted to get you like this for months," Vic groaned, his hands beneath her skirt pulling her panties down. Sue wriggled her thighs until the under-garment dropped around her ankles and then she stepped free of it. Vic pushed her skirt up above her waist and Cherie could see the wad of soft, black hair at the top of her thighs.

Vic cupped his hands under the girl's buttocks and hoisted her up on a cabinet. Cherie gasped as she saw Sue immediately part and raise her knees, revealing the wet, red slit of her pussy to Cherie's startled eyes. Vic was dragging out his penis not nearly as large as that of Cleophas, but big nonetheless, swinging beneath the bulge of his round belly and he lost no time in fitting the swollen, purple tip of the brown shaft into the young oriental girl's waiting nook.

Cherie chewed her lip in growing excitement as she saw Vic's great member disappear into Sue's pussy with a wet slurp and his heavy balls swing solidly into the warm cup of her twitching anus beneath. So this is what it looks like when two people do it, Cherie thought. His thing in her vagina. And that's what I would look like if I did it with someone.

Cherie resolved again then and there that when she made love with her husband, she would do it in the dark so that she wouldn't look so funny. Then she smiled at herself. No one would be watching anyway, would they?

Cherie slipped away, already feeling the wetness between her legs. There was no need to get herself needlessly aroused. But wasn't it strange here, that there was so much sex going on and no one seemed to know? Everybody was doing it! And no one seemed to care. It was a bit frightening to think that possibly all the women here except for Cherie herself were doing it with one of the men. Cherie hurried on to her room for a shower.

In her room, she undressed and stood before the mirror, intending to shower and nap a bit before the afternoon marathon of business. She surveyed herself before the full-length mirror. Her body was superb, though a bit plump lately, she now saw. Must be those pastries I've been eating at the office, she thought. She was built a couple of inches taller than average with long legs and flaring hips. Her breasts were large, very large, and round with pink nipples riding on wide, rosy aureolae, very firm without a hint of sag. Now she thought they appeared larger than usual, because of the few extra pounds she had put on, and she noticed her bottom had swelled a bit as well for the same reason. Turning sideways, she looked at her plump, heart-shaped derriere with the tender dimples, one surmounting each creamy white buttock at the base of her spine. Yes, she would definitely have to cut back on the junk food before her clothes started getting too tight.