Evelyn
Chapter 6

Copyright© 2013 by awnlee jawking

Spanking Sex Story: Chapter 6 - Dave hasn't yet met Miss Right but has plenty of fun practising with a bevy of willing Miss Right Nows. Then he meets the enigmatic Evelyn, who rebuffs his advances. Has he met his match?

Caution: This Spanking Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Heterosexual   Spanking   First   Oral Sex   Anal Sex   Slow  

Tuesday morning was quiet. A couple of clients telephoned, but they were both cases of minor misunderstandings and easily cleared up.

Around lunch time, the office started to fill up. About two o'clock, with management permission, I left work and headed to Joe's Bar, where I picked up a keg of beer and some bottles of soft drinks. Gary had arranged for me to have them at cost, and Wilson had volunteered his time, helping me load the drinks into my car. Then we drove to a local ball park.

Today was the annual charity softball challenge between the company I worked for and our biggest rivals. In ascending order of importance, bragging rights were earned according to who won the match, who had the most, and best-looking, women on their team, and most importantly, who raised the most money for charity.

When Wilson and I reached the ball park, some of the others were already there. We grabbed a couple of trestle tables for the drinks, and put them adjacent to the other tables being set up to selling home-made cakes and pastries. No doubt we were breaking umpteen licensing and health and safety laws, but as far as we were concerned it was a private party and the jobsworths could take a hike.

The players and spectators turned up around four o'clock. I had been asked to play but I have no interest in ball games and my hand-eye co- ordination is unbelievably poor. However I was quite happy to run an impromptu bar with Wilson.

Mark St James was our star player - although he lacked running speed he was a powerful hitter, and several times I saw him give the ball a mighty belt. I noticed Donna St James in the crowd. While Mark was deeply involved in the game, I took advantage of a lull to leave Wilson in charge of the beer and go to talk to Donna. She looked a little embarrassed to see me.

"I told Mark I saw you on Thursday," she admitted, "but I didn't tell him the whole story."

"He mentioned it to me when I bumped into him at work. Don't worry, what happened in Vegas stays in Vegas. Mark also told me it was a really bad idea for the two of you to work together."

"Yes, that's why I didn't send you my resume. Sorry about that, you must think me terribly ungrateful."

"No problem. How's the job hunting going?"

"Not good. I've got some feelers out, but everyone seems to be hurting at the moment. Actually I would have liked to join your company. If only Mark would leave!"

At that moment I spotted a face I recognised amongst the other spectators.

"Mark, over here," I called.

Donna blanched, thinking I was calling to her brother, then looked relieved when a stranger came over.

"Donna St James, Mark Grainger," I introduced them. "Mark is a Personnel Manager with our deadly rivals, Donna here is an out-of- work office manager and sister of our star player. Got any suitable vacancies, Mark?"

"We might have," said Mark Grainger. "One of our senior managers is just about to go on maternity leave. That leaves us with a short-term vacancy. But we were a bit short-handed in that area anyway, so I reckon whoever we take on will probably be made permanent." Mark took out a business card and gave it to Donna. "If you e-mail me your resume, I'll be sure to give it careful consideration."

"You don't mind that my brother works for the opposition?" asked Donna.

"We're frienemies. When it comes to business it's a fight to the death. But we also co-operate quite a bit on areas of mutual interest like taxation, planning and legislation. Over the years there's been quite a flow of staff between the two companies, and so far there haven't been any major issues," Mark explained.

"Thank you," said Donna. "Mr Grainger, I'll e-mail my resume tomorrow."

Suddenly there was an outbreak of cheering from the spectators.

"I'd better get back to my wife and pretend to understand what's happening on the pitch. Nice to meet you, Miss St James."

The two shook hands, then Mark returned to his position in the crowd.

"Thank you," said Donna again, this time to me specifically.

"I said I had a lot of contacts in the business. Feel free to e-mail your resume to me if it doesn't work out with Mark."

Donna leaned in and hugged me, kissing me on the cheek. Then, while our bodies were conjoined, she secretly slid a hand between us and expertly massaged Little Dave. Little Dave quickly did a good impression of a softball bat.

I noticed a queue for drinks was building, and it gave me the excuse I needed to leave before I had a messy accident in my pants. I reluctantly pulled away from Donna.

"Sorry, I'm needed elsewhere. Some other time perhaps!"

Donna's response was to lick her lips suggestively.

Wilson gave me a knowing wink when I returned to the makeshift bar. I had made an adjustment so Little Dave wasn't so blatantly obvious, but he was still rather outstanding.

The evening was quite pleasant, serving drinks while flirting with the attractive women. Wilson was doing some flirting himself, with both men and women. I suspected he might be gay but it was none of my business. He rolled his eyes at some of my more cringeworthy chat-up lines but it was all light-hearted. Most of the women were either taken or worked for the same company, both of which made them off- limits.

I think we won the softball game, although the rules seemed rather a moveable feast and I'm not sure who was counting. The opposition won the eye-candy bragging rights by quite a margin. They were a pleasure to watch, their jutting breasts accentuated by tight t-shirts, and shorts that had to have been sprayed on. As to the charity fundraising, that would be calculated later. The makeshift bar ran out just before the end so there wasn't any waste. I offered to pay Wilson for his time but he refused, saying that the children's charity we were supporting this year was close to his heart.

After the game was over, most of the families drifted off home while the rest helped to clear up. I stowed the empties in my car, promising to drop them off at the bar the next evening, then I gave Wilson a lift into town.

A text message informed me that the remnants from my company were heading to a burger restaurant, and I decided to join them. It was a bit of a lowest common denominator decision, because nobody objects to a good burger.

The place we went to wasn't part of a big chain selling reformed slurry, it was an independent which made its own burgers by mincing steak. They didn't make their own buns, but they were organic and stoneground, not that I could tell the difference. They supplied a variety of freshly made accompaniments and they even made vegetarian burgers for those so inclined. And after my beefeating weekend, I decided to try one, eliciting disbelief from my co-workers who considered me a diehard carnivore. It wasn't bad, but somehow not as satisfying as real meat.

The restaurant wasn't licensed, but that wasn't such a bad thing since I'd had a couple of beers at the game, in the interests of charity, of course! So we ordered coffees and sat there for a while, digesting our food to the accompaniment of some light banter and mild flirtation.

Wednesday I woke up refreshed and raring to go, which was just as well because when I got into work I found there was a crisis in Europe, and since they were so far ahead of us I didn't have long to sort it out. The morning passed in a blur of transatlantic phone calls. Fortunately some of the Europeans were happy to stay late to help sort out the problem and we were mostly on top of things by mid- afternoon when the last European left for the night.

That still left me with my normal Wednesday work. I kept on till early evening, then decided I'd had enough for the day. I hit the gym and had a vigorous workout, then a nice relaxing swim. Feeling in the mood for lots of protein, I hit the diner for a heart-attack grill, then I made my way to Joe's Bar to return the empties. I really hoped Luisa would show up, because I fancied a good, hard emotionless fuck as relief from the day's frustrations.

I unloaded the empty bottles from my car and carried them into the bar. It was almost deserted. I noticed the ice maiden wasn't there, although I hadn't really been expecting her. Gary came out with me to help carry the empty keg from my car, even though I could have managed it on my own.

"She asked after you yesterday," said Gary conspiratorially.

"Who? Luisa?" I asked, since she was the woman at the forefront of my brain at that moment.

"No, Evelyn."

"Evelyn?"

"Oh for heaven's sake, the woman you were obsessing over all last week."

"I wasn't obsessing over her. And I thought she was only here for a week."

I helped Gary carry the empty keg down to the basement, then back in the bar I ordered a beer. I could have sat on Evelyn's stool, but somehow it seemed wrong even though she wasn't there.

"So what else do you know about her, other than her name?" I probed, as Gary was pouring.

"Why don't you ask her yourself?" said Gary, inclining his head towards the restrooms.

Evelyn was gliding back towards her stool. Gliding is the only way to describe the gracefulness of her motion. Even if she had been on wheels, it couldn't have been any smoother.

"Hello Evelyn," I said, showing off my newly acquired knowledge. "Did you miss me?"

"Hello Dave," she replied, sending a jolt through my heart at remembering my name. "I'm an expert marksman so I'm pretty sure you'd know if I had been aiming at you."

"If you change your mind, let me know and I'll stand still to make an easier target for you."

"I've no doubt. I've seen what an easy target you are for women," Evelyn smirked.

"It's true I've got a lot of women friends, but I'm always looking to meet more."

"Are you looking to add me to your harem?"

"I don't have a harem. I don't demand exclusivity from any of the women I date, nor do they demand it from me. I just haven't met the special one I would want to spend the rest of my life with."

"Are they comfortable with that, knowing you have several other women friends?"

 
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