Chapter 1

At about the time I got promoted to Director and got a private office, the company hired a dark haired young woman to perform support technical sales support for our department. Her name was Isadora. Her consistent uniform was a starched white blouse and dark skirt, below the knee. She made it clear from her first day in the job that she was to be called Dora. Not Izzy. Definitely not Izzy.

Except that, less than a week later, the crowd she hung with was "Izzy"-ing like crazy. I remained a Dora caller. In fact, she kept such a distance I could have been a Ms. Muniz caller instead. Since we were both doing technical work, I expected we'd talk more. Never happened. Maybe she thought I was unapproachable, or unfriendly or ugly. It was as if she could read my mind and found lascivious thoughts. No deeds to make me suspect. No overheard comments about her youthful face, button nose, or little body with perfect proportions. No remarks about her teardrop breasts under her close fitting shirts. My father had lots of sayings. One was "Keep your dick out of the inkwell." Or was it "Keep your penis out of the typewriter"? Maybe not memorable but directly applicable. No sex with co-workers. No problem with Dora. We weren't even friends.

Dora worked for Don in support of sales. The wackiest duo in the company. Don was a wheeler-dealer. Always ready for a good time with clients. An expense account that would choke a horse. But management looked the other way because Don brought in the big deals. Deals that could take a faltering quarter and make it exceptional. Don was personable. No one ever disliked Don, which meant customers made repeat orders, which meant Don was successful. Self-fulfilling loop. And rumors said Don was a fun guy to hang with.

Straight-laced Dora acted subdued and shy, the exact opposite. Dora did the background work while Don made the client visits, wining and dining. Wacky? Steak and sizzle. A match made in business heaven. Odd couples often work out, which is why I couldn't understand why Harriett and I were faltering. She and I were about as opposite as you can get, at least on a few major topics.

My technical peers in other departments got to make business trips, or trips to conferences. Tashun always rejected my requests to attend workshops, even those endorsed by my boss, as "wasted time and money." I was jealous of Don and others who'd often hop on a plane to some exotic location. I made a standing offer to accompany any salesman on a customer visit, if it would help them close a deal. It would be good to get away from Harriett. We were always fighting about money, never having enough, and about sex, never doing it.

Dora kept her distance, and that was okay, since although we were both technical, our work rarely overlapped. The only time Dora and I were closer than three feet was an incident in the elevator at end of day. Everybody crowded in at five o'clock, eager to get the hell home, or wherever else they were going. Anyplace except the office. The elevator was more than crowded. I was already in, when another wave of workers showed up, insisting on a ride. Dora was one of them. She scurried in and faced the front. I was behind her. My luck, she wore a V-neck sweater. Because she was short and I'm tall, I had a nice view of the curved valley between her breasts. I had no choice but to grow an erection. Completely involuntary and not a problem until she backed up to let more insistent workers on. She must have felt my condition against her back.

"Mr. Marcus!" she shouted.

Everyone looked. My face was on fire. A couple of classless male coworkers hooted. I vowed to stay completely away from Dora from then on.

About a month later, things changed, specifically Dora's attitude and behavior, but only on Wednesdays. She'd come into the office upbeat, more confident, and definitely sexier. And ready to flaunt it. She must have known she had a voluntary audience in me and so she played off of me more than others.

For example, if we had a staff meeting on Wednesday, she'd always sit next to me, so that the peek-a-boo side of her blouse was facing me. She'd lean over to take notes, allowing the usual white cotton to separate precisely to give me a bra shot. Her breasts weren't huge, not even as big as Harriett's, and my wife is not zaftig, but a direct flirtation and a welcome diversion from Tashun's droning babble.

The most blatant incident, which almost pushed me over the edge, was another Wednesday morning. I was in the coffee room, back when the company provided the beverage for free. I'd already poured and spooned in my sugar. I was holding a carton of dairy product when Dora came in, glowing. I said hello, and complimented her on her choice of clothing, her typical white blouse and ankle- length skirt. Dumb - I know. She stroked the length of my tie. Twice. I had trouble breathing.

"I'm short-waisted," she said in a whisper. "Regular rides long on me." She pulled the material of her skirt, bunching it in her hands at her waist to demonstrate. No one else was refilling at the time, so there were no witnesses. She continued to drag the material higher until it was well above her knees, halfway up her thighs. Her legs were nicely shaped. I swallowed hard, anxious for her to continue the unveiling. She acted proud but nervous, glad to be showing off her physical attributes but scared at the same time. Like a push me- pull you was battling inside her. My hand must have shaken, because I spilled some dairy lightener on the counter.

"Shame on you, wasting cream like that. I've read that cream increases a woman's cellulite. Do you think I have any?" She lifted her skirt higher so that thighs were completely exposed, hinting at panties just above.

"Not that I can see." Sweat ran down my back.

"You're a gentleman."

The sound of others approaching interrupted her teasing. Dora dropped her grip, and her skirt cascaded to full length. The room filled with co-workers and the opportunity to take it the next step, whatever that would have been, was lost. Dora walked out but not without rubbing my shoulder. This was a completely different Dora. Why was she friendly all of a sudden? And showing off her legs? Amazing!

The next day, Thursday, Don came calling, with a promising tap on my doorframe. "You up for a trip?"

"Are you kidding? Of course." I'd lucked out. Don knew all of the right places, and perhaps a few of the wrong ones.

Don grinned. "I've arranged for adjoining rooms so we can pretend we have a suite, allow us to work together easier."

"Great! Wait a second. Where are we going?"

"Summerset Corporation in St Louis. Its not LA, but a whole lot better than Huntsville."

"When, and what's my role?" I wanted to be completely prepared. Screwing up Don's sale would make this a once-in-an-employment opportunity.

"Short notice. Next week. The customer insists we do a technical presentation. I told them 'Trust me. Have I ever let you down?' But their dumb ass CIO insisted I bring someone more technical."

"No sweat. I know how to handle those self important pricks." I don't use nasty slang at work as a rule but Don used more than his share. I peppered my response to let him know we were on the same wavelength. Dora hated it when Don swore. She'd get red in the face and shout 'Donald!' He hated his full name, so sometimes he'd stop. For a while.

Later that day, I stepped outside my office. I'd been hunched over my computer for several hours reading technical specifications. Our product line had been updated, and I expected their CIO to grill me on the details. I needed a stretch and a chance to clear my brain. Don and Tashun walked down the aisle, side by side, bumping elbows and giggling like two teenage girls sharing a secret. Was Don being less than truthful about our trip? Don stopped at my office but Tashun kept walking without a word. Bastard. I could take him down with a passing mention of his sexual encounters with his niece. But such a disclosure would cost my reputation and probably my job. My company may not fire snitches but they sure don't promote them either.

"What's with you and Tashun? Sharing secrets?"

"You're too smart for your own good, you know that? Okay, I really shouldn't say anything, but I told Tashun that Izzy dragged me into the janitor's closet yesterday."

"She did?" Lucky bastard.

"Yeah, she wrapped herself around me and pulled my face down for a really hot kiss. Tongue and everything. And then, quick as she came on to me, she pulled back, straightened herself up and strutted out, like nothing had happened."

I didn't share my coffee room incident. He may be a tattletale, but not me.

"Too bad Izzy isn't coming with us. You might get a slice of what I got. No worries. There's a female manager of purchasing at Summerset that's hot to trot. We'll see some action, I promise." I got Don's elbow, the same one he'd used with Tashun. Was I supposed to be pleased that Don was going to be my procurer? Although, maybe procured sex was better than none at all. And, it wouldn't be a babysitter or a stranger in a gynecologist's office.

On Friday, I slaved over an existing technical dog and pony show, making a ton of updates. With Don's reputation on the line, as well as maintaining an excellent customer, things had to perfect. The weekend flew by, mostly household errands punctuated by disagreements with Harriett. On Monday morning, I met with Don and Dora to co-ordinate our presentations. Nothing worse than two members of a team confusing their audience with conflicting stuff. That got me closer to Dora than I'd ever been, work or otherwise. I included a demo in my presentation, which required a test version of a network application using sample data hosted on our servers. That was Dora's responsibility. Working out the details put us side-by-side at the same table. Since it wasn't Wednesday, I got plenty of attitude. She sat two chairs away to maximize our spacing.

Don and I practiced our stuff on Monday at my insistence. He was secure but I wanted to be certain both he and Dora approved of my content and style. Dora said nothing. His only comment was to smile more and have fun with it. "You're too stiff."

If I'd been standing and he'd checked my pants, he would have seen he was correct. Presenting to my audience of Don and Dora, half of them had me excited, and it wasn't Don. If Dora noticed, she didn't let on.

On Tuesday, we did one last run-through for a hastily gathered group of co- workers. The demonstration of the network application was flawless, and I thanked Dora for her effort. She barely nodded. We packed up our materials and equipment for our departure the next day. Don looked pale with slumped shoulders as we left the conference room. He hadn't been very energetic in his presentation, although he didn't miss a beat or get anything wrong.

"What's up? You okay?" I asked.

"Just worn out from last night. The Smithereens were in town."

The two Smithereen brothers had manufacturing plants all over the world and used lots of our products. "Just get a good rest tonight."

We took our materials home that night so we could go directly to the airport the next day. We agreed to meet at the departure gate at eleven. No reason to stand around outside of security.

Late morning the next day, I sat at the gate for our flight to St. Louis. I arrived at the airport with time to spare, looking forward to the high-class treatment first class passengers receive. Don wasn't there yet. He was dependable in his commitments to customers. How about co-workers? On the flight, I expected him to regale me with stories of previous jaunts and extreme successes, if for no other reason than to keep me pumped up on our adventure.

I was shocked to see Dora, flushed with red cheeks, perspiring, dragging a wheeled carry-on behind her. She found my face in the crowd and headed directly for me. She bent over, hands on knees, catching her breath.

"Hi. What are you doing here?"

"Ms. Shorhan called me at home." Takita Shorhan was Don's administrative assistant. She refused to be called a secretary. Originally from somewhere in Asia, she was a recent hire with a Masters in Marketing from Buena Vista College. I'd reviewed her resume, but she wasn't right for any of my technical positions. "Don's is in the hospital. Nobody is saying why."

"That's terrible." I speculated about a reason, given what I'd previously heard about Don's lifestyle: a drug overdose, or a cardiac episode. My heart sunk. "So the trip is off?"

"No! That's just it. Tashun told me to go in Don's place." Her eyes darted around as she spoke. "I stopped by Don's house to get his materials. Evidently Summerset insisted that the meeting go on as planned, or they'd take their business elsewhere. But I'm not a salesman."

"Well, we saw Don's slides. Nothing too difficult. We should be able to-"

"I pleaded with them not to send me." She grasped my arm, squeezing. "Not today. But they insisted or I'd get fired."

A gate clerk called for first class boarding. Don had spared no company expense. I guided Dora towards the gate attendant.

"Take a deep breath." I reached for Dora's hands. She let me hold them. "Everything will be okay."

Dora's expression did not show confidence. She was anxious, frightened. "But, but-"

"Shhhhhh. We'll make it through. You've been party to our plans. And no one knows the demo better than the two of us."

"Us?" Was that a hint of a smile piercing her tortured expression?

"Yes. We'll wow them." I put my arm around her, a colleague's supportive gesture.

She leaned her head onto my chest. It was a natural position, and too comfortable. When I glanced down at her, she raised her face and kissed me on the cheek. Not a peck. An insistent kiss, a needy kiss. One she didn't want to end. Too bad it was my cheek and not my lips. I took a deep breath.

Her carry-on luggage banged into my calves as she clung to me down the jetway.

We entered the plane and turned left towards first class. I melted into my padded seat.

Dora sat upright, stiff. "I hate flying."

"How many times have you flown?"

"Including this flight - twice."

Like one trip is a large enough data sample. "Sure it's a pain with all of the security measures but-"

"I like the security. Makes me more confident. No, it's the physics. A big piece of metal, up in the sky. It doesn't make sense."

A hollow feeling blossomed in my belly at the thought of a rock released from a hand. It drops straight down. I was tempted to give her an aerodynamics lesson as best I remembered it. The words failed me. I decided she was correct. It didn't make sense, even in a comfortable seat.

She clung to me, arm entwined with mine. I didn't complain especially when I felt her breast against my triceps. This incidental contact was way better than the free alcohol or the fancy appetizers. The flight from Chicago was quick and painless with Dora on my arm. I pulled her carry-on bag to avoid damaging my Achilles tendon and calves.

Even though we were in the same time zone, I checked my watch. The face of my watch showed the date and day of week: Wednesday. Maybe that's the cause of Dora's attitude? The wait for my bag in baggage claim was mercifully short.

We stood on the curb, waiting our turn for a cab, Dora close to me. "I'm sorry about my behavior."

"Nothing to apologize for. Lots of folks don't like flying."

"I mean in the office. Last week? I hope I didn't embarrass you."

"Me?" She was the one who hiked up her dress and made a sexual reference about not wasting cream. "It takes more than that."

A mischievous grin spread across her face. "It does?" She patted my ass. In public. Immediately she pulled her hands back, crossing her arms. Her expression was one of shock. Dora was like two different women in the same delectable body. Her original shy and demure self, and an emerging outgoing and practically lascivious one. And only on Wednesdays. Strange.

A limo pulled up, with Don's name on cardboard stuck behind the windshield. First class, all the way. The driver took our bags as I held the door for Dora. We buckled in, at a safe distance.

I had to ask. "Are you okay?" Or does schizophrenia run in your family?

Dora hung her head. "I'm not sure. I'm taking some drugs, once a week."

On Wednesdays, obviously.

She continued, "I wouldn't have taken them today if I'd known I was leaving town, but the phone message came too late."

The door was open. I decided to walk through. "If you mind my asking, what kind of drugs?" If they had the same effect on all women, maybe I'd slip some into Harriett's coffee. "You're not sick, I hope."

"It is difficult to explain. They're supposed to make me normal but they're messing with my head."

I wanted to ask how she was abnormal. Dora seemed normal to me, only a bit too shy, a tad too reserved. "Anything I can do?"

She leaned against my shoulder and ran her hand from my knee to my groin. Shit, was she going to fondle my prick in the back of a limo? "We'll see." She jumped back, straightened her jacket and folded her hands. "Oh, I'm so sorry. The drugs are more potent at night."

Dora hugged the opposite side of the limo for the remainder of our trip to the hotel. We checked in, greeted by smiling desk clerks who treated us like royalty. Perhaps Don had been here before, and we were riding on his coattails. A bellman piled our suitcases on a rolling cart and escorted us upstairs.

"Do you want to go for dinner?" I tried to make it sound like business and not a date.

"No thanks. I'm not in the mood. Maybe I'll order room service."

True to his word, Don had two adjacent rooms reserved. On the way off the elevator, Dora stopped our caravan at a vending machine and bought a 20-ounce bottle of cola. The bellman led us to Dora's room, unlocked it, and brought her bag inside.

"Just knock it you need anything," I offered. Fat chance that would happen.

The bellman continued four feet down the hall to my room. The bellman checked my registration. Don, bless his heart, had prepaid for adult programming channels. Since I had them, I guessed Dora had them too.

I checked the room service menu and ordered up a steak, baked potato, and a soda. The meal was great, except the soda was a miniature 4 ounce can, barely enough to wash down the meal. After eating, I settled back to watch a "cheerleaders take their clothes off for no reason" flick. A classic. Their sneakers whomped the gymnasium floor as their tits bounced wildly. I got an erection in my sleeping shorts.

In the middle of the movie, which had no plot, just excuses for college kids to get undressed and fuck, I heard a knock almost indistinguishable from the on- screen pounding of sneakers on the gymnasium floor. I opened the door that connected my room to Dora. She had done the same. She stood partially bent over in a white bathrobe. On her coffee table lay a pair of mangled hot dogs sans buns. It looked like they'd been beaten or mashed, their stuffing squishing from breaks in their casings. The best I could tell, they hadn't been eaten.

"What's wrong?" The question of what she might or might not be wearing under the bathrobe kept my erection firm.

"I've hurt myself. I wouldn't have bothered you, but the pain is so bad I can't sleep. I was afraid I'd be a zombie tomorrow."

"It's no trouble. How can I help?"

Dora backed up, allowing me to cross the threshold into her room. "I'm really nervous about tomorrow, so I tried to relax."

"Of course. Some mindless television, right?" Or a sex flick. Maybe 'Stallions of Wall Street'?

"No, not that. I gave myself a sliver."

Relaxing with wood? That was unique, but so was Sexy Wednesdays. "No problem. I'm an expert taking out slivers. Let me get my kit."

I had a magnifying glass, a pin and a tweezers in my bathroom ditty bag. When I reentered Dora's room, she wasn't visible. "Hello?"

"I'm in here." 'Here' was the bathroom, where she stood with all of the lights on. "I got it from this." She handed me a hairbrush, bristles first. I examined the handle. The finish had eroded away, probably from moisture, down to bare wood. And it was rough. No wonder she got a sliver.

"So where's that nasty sliver?" I expected her to put out a hand. She eased onto the counter and spread her knees. "I forgot my vibrator and I was desperate for a physical release." The robe began to separate. Her knees came into view. Then her dark, smooth thighs. "I tried a couple of hot dogs, but they were too soft. I needed something harder."

Release? Masturbation? So that's how they ended up in bad shape, as substitute dildos. Evidently Dora's cunt packs a tight squeeze. I was plenty hard. But she wasn't offering, and I wasn't volunteering. My cock throbbed at the remote possibility anyway. "Is this from the drugs?"

She nodded. "My husband complained that I wasn't interested in sex. Maybe he was right. I don't know. He was my first and only lover. My doctor said I was fine and that we should take joint therapy but Emilio said he was okay. It was all me. When my girlfriend Marisol visited from Puerto Rico, she brought me these." She pulled a zippered plastic bag from her makeup pouch.

It looked like remnants from mowing the lawn, thin brown strands. "What is it?"

"Naturally growing herbs and plant leaves. I started brewing them once a week, like Marisol instructed. They're supposed to make me more relaxed, so Emilio and I can have good sex."

"On Wednesday nights?"

The robe fell away exposing her legs all the way up to - oh my God - her bare pussy. I couldn't help but stare. No underpants. Not surprising if she'd masturbated with a brush handle, but a shock just the same.

"Yes. Emilio has Thursdays off, so we can make love all night. The more, the better."

I was completely distracted. I shouldn't have had this privilege. God, she was hot. Dora volunteered the answer. "We're trying to have a baby. I took the normal dose this morning, but then Ms. Shorhan called."

So Dora was all sexed up and no Emilio to satisfy her. "So your husband experiences the revitalized Dora every Wednesday night?"

"Izzy. He calls me Izzy." Her motor was revving with no place to go. She winced. "The sliver, could you take it out?"

I took a cleansing breath. "Sure. Exactly where?"

She spread her labia. Her pussy lips were engorged, pink and full. She tapped a finger on her left one. "It's on this side." I remained at attention, my body and my dick.