The Office Siren Ch. 02

The Office Siren - Chapter Two

Josie's Notes

In the first chapter, Jenny joined Poulsen Pendergast Masterly & Vonn (PPMV). She quickly discovered the old-boys PR firm in midtown New York was completely stuck in its prehistoric ways. Women were second-class citizens, subject to a brutal dress code and virtually no upward mobility. But Jenny was at a point in her life where she craved - needed - stability and serenity. She thought she might get that at PPMV. But it didn't work out that way.

Jenny became increasingly agitated by the firm's treatment of women. The Harvard graduate realized she had options in the job market and was determined to either influence some reforms in the old firm, or move on. But what could Jenny do? She's a former stripper and VIP girl from Eyes Only - a high-end Manhattan sex club. She quit stripping the day after her final tuition payment to Harvard had cleared. But Eyes's effect on Jenny was lasting. You don't fuck five hundred men and women for money in a two year timespan without it drastically affecting your outlook on life, love, and sex. Without it affecting your soul.

The Jenny that joined PPMV was a cynical, cool woman who thought she knew how the world works and what she needed to do to win. She's not afraid to use her dazzling assets: A face and body that stops traffic in midtown Manhattan, prodigious sexual skills, a brilliant mind with a Harvard education, and a pragmatic perspective on sex as her weapon of choice to use or withhold as she judged necessary to further her goals.

But then, Vivia came along...

~~~

I stretched out prone in the glorious luxury of the uber-plush king bed, my body sweetly exhausted from a long night of riotous love making. The thick downy quilt was twisted into a tangled mess. A half-dozen feather pillows littered the room, witness to the tornado of our writhing limbs as we extracted endless pleasure from each other's hungry bodies throughout the long night. I pulled on one of the slippery satin sheets, draping it over my body like a ghostly shroud, deliciously damp with my untamed lover's luscious femcum.

Vivia had been utterly insatiable last night. A month ago, after one night together, she'd declared she was done with dating. That I was 'The One'.

She was through teaching women how to fuck, she'd said. She needed a lover with experience and the knowhow to make her cum violently and often.

That would be me.

At the ripe old age of twenty-four, I've fucked several hundred men and at least a hundred women.

It put me through Harvard.

I've fucked ugly men, and gorgeous women.

I've fucked well-hung men and bi-curious women.

I've even fucked gay men who wanted to find out "what it was like".

My pussy has changed the lives of men and women alike, from those who'd never had a good fuck in their entire time on this planet, to others who'd fucked nearly as many people as me.

But no-one, not a single one of them, ever came within a Tiger Woods drive of how magnificently my Vivia can fuck.

Sex with Vivia is transcendent. She changed my life. Her pussy is nourishment for my body. Food for my soul.

Of my five hundred or so lovers, not a single one ever made me cum without help from my own fingers. Until Viv.

She made me actually love sex.

There's something else you should know about me.

Vivia is the first person, man or woman, who I ever fucked for free.

I find myself hoping she'll be the last.

I've tried to figure out what makes Vivia tick. What goes on in that incredible sex brain of hers that allows her to let go so freely, to open herself to me so completely. To simply enjoy.

She calls me a work in progress. Oh, I've got technique. My pussy skills are second to none, and I can render Viv into a drooling, babbling slut in no time. It's my sex brain she's been working on.

She's getting me there.

We took a week's vacation together. We didn't leave New York. We didn't even leave the apartment. Some call that a staycation.

We almost didn't leave her bed.

Call it a fuckation.

For that whole week, Vivia was determined to take every little hangup I had about sex and relationships, and fuck it right out of me.

It sort of worked.

My sorceress lover drew fifty, sixty orgasms out of my body and my brain that week, and together we transformed me into her greedy, horny, hangup-free slut.

And she mine.

Now we fuck at the office on coffee breaks. We fuck in public. We fuck in dive bars and outdoor rooftop patios.

When the workday is over, we literally race home to fuck.

That's me. One extreme to the other. I don't do things halfway and I've found someone who looks at life the very same way.

The bathroom door opened and my sorceress lover walked into the room, vigorously drying her waist-length platinum blonde hair with a big fluffy towel. Otherwise, she was naked. I never tire of seeing her that way.

Or any way.

She gifted me with a brilliant smile as she worked her hair, then seeing me staring, she pouted her lips and kissed the air in my direction.

That always makes my pussy dance.

Pussy knows what those lips can do.

"We have some time, V-Girl," I said to her, stretching out suggestively. We'd gone to bed at ten, (late for us on a weeknight) and fucked 'til three. But at six-thirty, I'm horny again.

"What did you have in mind?"

She knew what I was about to say. It's our little game. My signature line with her.

"Whatever you want, I will give it to you. Tell me what you want."

"I'm not going to tell you. I'm going to show you."

A common rejoinder in our sexy little foreplay.

I scooted down a couple of feet towards the foot of the bed to give her room. Laying fully prone, I pushed all the pillows away from my head.

Vivia took her time. She stared at me for several long seconds, tossed the towel onto a nearby chair, and advanced towards the foot of the bed. With a grace of a panther on the hunt, her lithe body crawled onto the end of the bed and advanced on all fours towards its willing prey.

She crawled up my prone form, her eyes never leaving mine. Her long platinum hair caressed my skin as she advanced, drawing goosebumps in its wake. For a brief moment I thought she might pause at my pussy to have a taste, but that was not this morning's game. Her dreamy breasts hung just above me, her nipples brushing my tummy as she slithered up my body. When her breasts reached my own, she dawdled, swirling those hard little nubs around mine, that sexy little move of hers rendering the both of us rock hard and ready.

When her knees straddled my head she paused, her upper body erect above me. I stared up at her dripping pussy, inches above my face. Her sex machine was throbbing, pink and swollen from a long night of love making.

I scanned up her body to the underside of her perfect firm breasts and the white-blonde hair that cascaded over them. The erotic sight of that gorgeous skilled mouth framed between those prodigious breasts made my body tingle in memory of those full pouty lips that had pleasured my pussy last night with such love and skill.

A warm drip on my chin pulled my gaze back to her glistening sex.

And then another drip. And another.

She was magnificently, deliriously, fantastically horny.

"We don't have time baby," she said to me. "I have an early meeting. So I'm going to Vab you directly. Can you go to work without a shower?"

My heart kicked up a new notches. After hours and hours of sex last night, she was suggesting I go commando, as it were. And more.

Going without a shower meant I'll have the smell of sex on me all day. But she had even more plans for me.

"Here I come baby," she said softly.

She spread her knees apart, drawing her legs into a side split. Her pussy descended to my face. Holding my head in her hands, she brushed her pussy lips into my neck, where she gently rotated her labia, then up, across my chin, over my mouth and up to my nose, leaving a generous slippery trail of sweet-smelling femcum across my skin.

"This is why you can't shower, Jenny," she said. "I call this D-Vabbing. I want you to let my femcum set into your skin."

D-Vabbing. Direct pussy-to-skin vaginal dabbing.

"My turn Viv. Today is our day of action. We're D-Vabbing together."

"I love it," Viv grinned, as she rolled onto her back.

Sexy.

So fucking sexy it put my juice factory on overdrive. "Are you sure we don't have time for a quickie, V-Girl?"

"Today's our day Sugar Lips. We can't be late. Come on, baby. D-Vab me. Get me nice and wet. Make me smell your cunt all day."

"That's the plan," I said, swinging my leg across and straddling her face.

I stuffed a pillow under the back of her head to give myself easy access. My hands were shaking; I had to consciously remind myself not to hurt her. I was so horny I was afraid I might break her nose.

That would seriously ruin the moment.

I dropped my pussy onto her face and swirled my juices into her skin. Vivia opened her mouth and pushed her tongue between my labia lips.

"Hey!" I said in mock protest.

My earlier thought was to slide up to her eyes and forehead, but - change of plans. I slipped down and pushed my clit right into her fat, juicy lips. She formed a sexy pout with the most kissable lips I've ever smooched and sucked my pearl gently into her mouth.

Ohhh.

Oh fuck she knows what she's doing.

A familiar tingle in my clit signalled she was on the right track. Of course she is.

Vivia wrapped her arms around my core and hugged me tight, driving my pussy deeper into her face. Her eager pointed tongue lanced into my pussy and my sexy sorceress curled it up, up, up into my G-spot even as her upper lip slid across my clit.

"Ohh, Viv, darling, baby, yes, oh yes, yes." In the space of twenty seconds she had turned me back into that babbling, drooling slut.

My pussy was alive. Every nerve ending tingled and roiled with anticipation. I was so wet and slippery down there I worried Vivia might drown, but she only upped the pressure. Her lips and her tongue worked me over, slipping and sliding across my sex, knowing exactly what I needed. It's my knowing that she knows. That's what makes her so fucking, incredibly, magnificently sexy. She's a gorgeous, skilled sex machine, her goal solely to build me up and make me cum. To make me cum all over her, to gush and rut and cum like a whore. I AM a whore for Vivia. I'm a fucking cum slut who lives for nothing except to fuck her and be fucked by her, to cum and cum and cum then feel her cum all over me, as together we wrench orgasm after orgasm after greedy fucking endless magnificent orgasm out of our slutty needy bodies.

My entire core was alive, pulsing with electricity. Vivia was so committed, so engaged, she knows what I need, she knows, she knows, she knows...

My body felt like one of those enormous water vessels in a water park. The kind that slowly fills with water, keeps filling and filling and filling, until finally the tipping point is reached, the vessel pivots over and dumps its entire load...

Vivia was filling me, filling me up, my vessel growing heavy and full of viscous, honeyed, electric liquid, ohh YES baby YES, YES, YES.

My sorceress. Relentless, unstoppable. And she knows. Oh how she knows.

Ohhh.

This is it, this is it, this is it, it, it, it, it...

My vessel spilled over, swamping my body and flooding my brain with a massive tidal wave of sheer, orgasmic splendor.

"Cumming Viv! Oh fuck I'm cumming."

Vivia orgasms are the best in the world. Cumming, cumming, cumming. When I cum she doesn't stop, she never stops, she draws them out, drives me higher and higher. Gushing now, my juicy cunt gushing all over my Vivia's gorgeous sexy face, swamping her in my femcum, flooding her in my juices, and still she worked me over, held me to her, keeping me cumming and cumming and cumming.

When at last my orgasm subsided, I fell over onto the bed and stared at the ceiling. I could scarcely believe I had found a lover who could do that for me.

And so damn, fucking FAST!!!

"Fuck Jenny, when you cum, you really fucking cum."

I looked over at my lover. Her face was drenched. My femcum dripped off her chin and ran down her cheeks. I rolled onto my side, leaned in close and puckered my lips.

Vivia thought I wanted to kiss her. Instead, I stopped her with a finger, while I took a deep breath and blew a gentle draft of air across her face. Knowing what I was up to, she closed her eyes to let my femcum dry on her face.

When I was done and she was dry, she opened her eyes and grinned. "Now that's what I call a D-Vab. Think anybody will notice?"

"I sure hope so."

"Okay, let's get dressed."

"Right. We've got a day of action ahead of us."

"Think the Light Hogs will fire us?" Viv asked. She didn't appear to be afraid.

I grabbed my pussy. "I have a few tricks up my... sleeve. Come on, let's get dressed."

I swung my legs over the side of the bed and watched Vivia head into her closet. My eyes fell on her makeup table, arrayed with a dizzying collection of bottles, tubes, brushes, and other miscellaneous articles. My eyes fell on one bottle in particular. On the face of the square cut-glass bottle was a logo that looked like a stylized seagull. The words "Sea Breeze" were etched into the bottle in Gothic script.

Curious, I picked up the bottle. Opening the stopper, I dipped a nail into the liquid and brushed a little onto my wrist. Letting it dry a moment, I gave it a sniff.

"Viv!" I said to the partially closed bathroom door. "Viv!"

Vivia poked her head out of the bathroom. "What? What's going on?"

"This perfume. You use this? I really don't want to hurt your feelings, but this stuff is God awful."

Vivia rolled her eyes. "That, my dear fuck toy, is the latest achievement of Poulsen Pendergast Masterly & Vonn, the hugely successful PR firm who sends that bi-weekly pittance to your bank account to fund the furs-and-Ferrari lifestyle you adore so much."

"This is one of ours?" I said. There was incredulity in my voice, but I even as I said it, I realized it all made sense. "I was going to say this is for old ladies, but that would be an insult to grandmothers the world over."

"I know, right? Don't worry, I don't use it. I got one whiff of that barf juice and I nearly ralphed. I just haven't got round to throwing it away."

"Let me do the honors." I took the bottle to the kitchen sink, turned the hot water on full and poured the 'perfume' down the drain, carefully letting it join the stream of water to minimize the olfactory impact on the apartment. "There, that's done."

"Just don't tell anyone at work what you did there," Vivia laughed.

"I won't. I just want this out of my mind. So, what have you decided to wear today?"

Vivia grabbed a couple of hangers from the back of the bathroom door and held them up for inspection. "You like?"

My pussy did a little dance. "Fuck Viv. The Light Hogs are gonna be jerking off in their little pens after they see you in that."

"That's the idea. My nylons and spikes are over there."

Draped over a chair was a pair of ultra-glossy oil shine chocolate pantyhose and a pair of brilliant pink Louboutin "So Kates" five-inch heels.

I was glad Vivia had gone all out for our Day of Action. It meant I wouldn't stand out too much.

"This is going to be an interesting day, my love."

**

Vivia and I walked through the revolving glass doors of the PPMV Building on Sixth Avenue. As we swiped our security badges at the turnstiles, I was thrilled to see three very sexy women waiting for the elevator in the low-floors lobby. I haven't seen so much leg and fine nylons in this lobby since - well since never. We all made eye contact in the elevator to seven. I detected tentative smiles of relief in all of them in the knowing they weren't alone in our glorious mission to save the world from the oppressive patriarchy of Poulsen Pendergast Masterly & Vonn.

My WhatsApp chat was going nuts.

Light Hogs walking towards their offices through a sea of legs, breasts, hair and gorgeousness - Chelsea.

Everybody's excited and happy - Amber.

The women are nervous but resolute - Summer.

Sexy! was all Suzy had to say.

Yeah, wait'll they see Viv.

The elevator door opened and (if I do say so myself) five sexy women stepped onto the floor. I chose my favorite street wear for today. Five-inch Jennifer Chamandi open-toed stiletto high heels, Cecilia de Rafael Eterno 20 oil-shine nude pantyhose, a tight black leather miniskirt brandishing ten inches of thigh, a two-sizes-too-small sheer white button-up blouse, with no bra, unbuttoned enough to display the deep valley of my 34EE's. Silver and red-stone rings on every finger, scarlet reflective matching polish on nails and lips, my thick light-brown hair flowing over my upper body in thick, unkempt waves, a pair of dangly silver earrings, and eye makeup deep and alluring enough for my former place of employment.

But what shocked the absolute living hell out of me came next.

As I walked confidently onto the floor to head for my desk - eyes up, tits out - every single woman who had decided to flout the PPMV dress code - at least three-quarters of the two hundred and twenty women who work on the seventh floor - stood and applauded. Many shouts of "thank you!" and "You go girl!" and stuff like that rang throughout the office.

And then, like the sky had opened and an anvil had fallen onto the floor, the applause stopped. It was like, from a ten to a zero in the time span of a cobra strike.

No-one moved. I mean, these women were frozen so stiff I thought Medusa had flashed her eyes over the floor.

Close.

Mrs. Penderly appeared at my shoulder.

"Miss Peters!" The voice of doom from the matron of hell. The feared keeper of the dress code from the 1890's.

As if in response to the shouting, the door to Light Hog Sykes' office opened. My former Eyes Only client strode resolutely through the eight-pods clustered with (now) sexy women, his gaze never wavering from our little group standing near the entrance to the elevator lobby.

"Mrs. Penderly," Sykes nodded at the old bitch standing beside me. "What do we have here?"

"What we have here, Mr. Sykes, is a rebellion among the lower-paid analyst staff."

"I see that." Sykes was struggling mightily to keep his eyes up. I know this fucker from the club I used to strip at. He's about as horny as they come. But he doesn't recognize me. Context is everything.

Vivia knew all about Sykes from my stories. She stepped forward and flipped her hair. And then, I saw it. We all did.

In the presence of the relentlessly sexy Vivia, Sykes could not resist looking at her legs. Her breasts. Her tiny waist. Her full, glossy crimson lips.

Even Penderly saw it. She shook her head. "Mr. Sykes. I'll handle this."

Turning to me, Mrs. Penderly folded her arms and glared. "I know you are the instigator of this little rebellion, Miss Peters. I demand you call this off immediately." She turned to the sea of desks across the floor. "Ladies, you've all had your fun. But this little escapade of yours ends now. Each and every one of you who has violated the dress code will leave this office and change into your authorized attire."

"What about our work assignments?" my friend Summer shouted from the middle of the floor. "I have a deadline this afternoon."

"Your deadlines will have to wait. I have the authority..."

"My deadline can't wait," Summer said. "The client is expecting it this afternoon."

"Mine too," another voice said. "I can't go home anyway. The trains are ninety minutes apart in mid-day."

"You all should have thought of this earlier, before you..."

"That makes so sense," said a voice from the back.

"My client's gonna be pissed!" said a voice from the left.

"Ladies! You will go home, or you will find a retailer here in Manhattan that carries clothing suitable for..."

"Nobody sells that crap," said Summer.

That was my queue. "We can't buy PPMV-approved clothing in Manhattan, Mrs. Penderly. This is not..."

"You lied to me, Miss Peters," Penderly said. "When you told me..."

"I told you I didn't have to buy anything new for the office. I didn't. Everything I wear here is second hand. As in - the original owner didn't want it."

"Miss Peters." Penderly faced me directly, her hands on her hips. She was used to being obeyed. Apparently, shouting works for her. "I order you to instruct your little cadre here to go home and change, and to never, and I mean NEVER do this again."

"I won't do that, Mrs. Penderly."

"Yay, Jenny!" shouted a voice in the distance.

"In that case, you are dismissed, Miss Peters. With prejudice. Your employment at this office is hereby terminated."

I was ready for that.

"In that case, Mrs. Penderly, Mr. Sykes, this is for you."

The HR matron warily eyed the documents I was pulling out of my shoulder bag.

Behind Penderly, an elevator door opened and a man stepped out. He was around five-ten, with white temples and a trim tanned face. He wore a closely-tailored three-piece suit and mirror-finish Oxford shoes.

"Mr. Connors," Sykes said. His voice betrayed a high level of deference. Or was he nervous?

"What's going on here Tom?"

"Mr. Connors, it seems as though we have a problem here with the staff."

"I see that." Connors looked at the legal folder I was passing to Sykes. "You have something there, Miss?"

"Ms. Peters. Jenny Peters. I'm sorry, I don't know you. What is your role here?"

"Senior Vice President of Major Accounts. Tom Sykes reports to me, so therefore, you work for me."

"Excellent, Mr. Connors. I have two documents here. This is a petition, signed by one hundred and seventy-seven women on this floor, demanding an end to the PPMV dress code. It comes with a pledge that each and every signatory of this document will resign on the spot if any woman participating in today's lawful protest is fired or disciplined as a result of violating your company dress code."

"I see. And the other?"

"This is a certified copy of a formal complaint ready to be forwarded to the New York field office of the Equal Employment Opportunity Commission, protesting the PPMV dress code."

"On what grounds?"

"That it is objectively discriminatory and biased against women, not uniformly applied across all employees since it relates only to women, it is overly restrictive, and violates accepted case law, per the State of New York. Four separate precedent cases are cited in the appendix, each of them on point and related to dress code policies."

"This is preposterous," Penderly fumed. "You cannot..."

Connors silenced the old bat with a hand. "Come with me, Miss, uh..."

"Peters."

"Of course. Yes. Come with me Miss Peters."

The senior vice president turned towards the elevator. I did likewise. Connors pressed the 'Down' button. Seeing movement in his periphery, he looked over at Sykes and Penderly. The Light Hog was desperate to be invited to the Executive Floor on sixty-two where he could bask in the aura of the C-Suite.

"I've got this, Tom." The Light Hog stopped in his tracks. He did his best to hide it, but the micro expressions on his face betrayed keen disappointment. Too bad.

Penderly was profoundly eager to get on that elevator too, but for another reason: to witness to my beatdown and firing. I was certain she wanted to be the one escorting me out of the building.

When the old bag moved forward, confidence in her step and vengeance on her face, the Senior Vice President shifted his gaze to her. "You too, Mrs. Penderly, I don't require you for this meeting."

I thought of Vivia's gesture towards me this morning when she was drying her hair. I couldn't resist. Call me petty. Call me a spiteful little bitch. I don't care. I winked at Penderly, pouted my glossy crimson lips, and kissed the air towards her.

Penderly's face turned red, definitely ready to explode.

Sykes licked his lips and took a deep breath. His eyes darted to my legs.

When the elevator doors closed, Connors took us to the ground floor. "Come with me, Miss Peters."

"You can call me Jenny, you know," I said. "It's completely okay. I won't sue you."

"All right... Jenny. This way."

We walked around the core to another bank of elevators. He punched the number 62 into a keypad and we waited for the elevator to arrive.

Connors was around five-ten. I'm five-eleven, but with my Jennifer Chamandi spikes, I'm running six-four today.

I was about to say something when the elevator arrived. Being mid morning, the lobby wasn't too busy and we were alone. Essentially we had an exclusive express elevator to the top floor.

Even for Connors, a silent ride up that many floors was uncomfortable. Rather than retreating to our separate corners, I stood right next to him, in his personal space, our shoulders nearly touching. The hemline of my skirt was nearly even with the bottom of his suit jacket. My oil-shine nylons glistened in the LED lights of the elevator.

Connors shifted on his feet. A small bead of sweat appeared on his forehead. He took a deep breath.

Finally, he spoke. "That's a very intriguing perfume you're wearing, ah, Jenny."

My perfume.

He was referring to the scent Vivia had slithered over me when she D-Vabbed me this morning.

"It's an original," I said. "Do you like it?"

"What do you mean - original?"

"You can get custom scents made to order. My girlfriend and I did that." I fell into the lie easily. Too easily maybe.

"How does that work?"

"You go to the perfume factory. They have hundreds of different scents. For a fee, you can play with endless combinations until you have the one you like. Then it's yours."

"Intriguing."

"It's actually not my formulation. It's my girlfriend's."

"Still, it's very compelling. Do you mind if I, if I smell it?"

This was getting downright weird, but maybe I could gain some leverage. You can take the girl out of the VIP room, but...

I turned to face him full on. I'd picked my outfit for this morning to emphasize three things.

My legs. Vivia calls them objects of pure masturbation fantasy. Long, lean muscle in all the right places with a dreamy thigh gap and a tight Toblerone triangle right below my swollen pussy. Men and women alike have confessed their fantasy of being wrapped up in my legs and my arms, locked into my body as I squeeze them into needy piles of quivering jelly. At five-eleven, my legs are long and sexy, and thanks to hours weekly in the gym, very shapely. My black leather skirt is cut six inches below my pussy. Adorned with chocolate glossy Cervin Dolce 15 seamed nylon pantyhose and five-inch glossy black stilettos, these legs turn heads and part crowds.

My curves. I have a twenty-two inch waist and I'm thirty-four at hips and bust. Men (and lots of women) love big tits, some love a big ass, but it's a universal truth that it's the contrast, the hourglass shape from full hips to tiny waist and back to huge knockers that makes them horny as fuck. I've got hourglass in spades.

My breasts. For this little elevator encounter, put I my tits in play. A glorious natural 34EE, my breasts are full, high, and firm. I chose an extra-tight white blouse that gives them a nice round top, gorgeous nipple definition, and nowhere to go but out. The blouse button at the fullest part of my tits is stretched nearly to the breaking point, perhaps just one deep breath away from keeping its braless EE contents from bursting forth and spilling out in all their magnificent glory.

So when I faced the SVP head on, my breasts, firm and ready to pop, stood proudly between us. With my Louboutin-driven height advantage, they were nearly even with his collarbone.

I smiled sweetly at Connors. "Sure Mr. Connors. It's okay. I won't bite. You can smell me."

I slid my hand onto my neck and lifted my long thick brown hair away from my shoulder, inviting him into my intimate space. The way I'd positioned myself, he had no way to smell my neck without pressing into my big, firm cleavage.

I pushed them out nice and proud as he considered his move.

His forehead was damp. He swallowed hard. But he hesitated.

"It's okay Mr. Connors. I don't mind. In fact, I'd love to know what you think." I licked my glossy crimson lips. "Come. Sample me."

Briefly I wondered if I'd gone too far with the double entrendre. That was a VIP-girl line if ever there was one.

He leaned over my breasts and took a good whiff.

I could almost see Vivia's cunt-juice pheromones attack, billions of tiny creatures leaping the short distance between us and swarming into his brain.

It's powerful stuff. Trust me, since Vivia began Vabbing me, I'm so horny all day I can hardly think straight.

"Oh." Connors held the pose. He sniffed again.

I let go of my hair and let it fall over the side of his face, enveloping him in my scent.

Then, without reservation or embarrassment, he looked directly into my cleavage.

Vivia's vagina at work. With a little help from my big, round friends.

Those pheromones are the pied piper of sex. Their power was just beginning to assert itself.

I took a deep breath and expanded my chest, stretching that breast button to the breaking point. He licked his lips and stared, as if willing my blouse to burst apart. Remembering himself, his eyes darted back to mine. I smiled, the look of the office slut who always says Yes.

The soft furry kitty with the canary in her mouth.

Of course he's dreaming of putting something else in her mouth. Seeing how Connors was sweating, I figured we'll get there soon enough. If we had more time than an elevator ride, I'd go down on him right now and finish the job. And save the jobs of a couple of hundred women in the process.

The elevator door opened, waking Connors from his stupor. I turned away to face the open doors, waiting for him to lead the way.

As we walked onto the executive floor, I gazed around the open office area, surrounded on all sides with private offices. Right out of the 1920's. Big heavy dark-wood doors, thick glass windows, expensive executive secretary desks outside the big offices. Quiet, sophisticated.

Dull.

Women sitting at desks on the outside, almost certainly just men on the inside.

Like on seven, except a whole lot richer. And WAY fewer workstations.

Aside from a couple of women parked outside their bosses' offices, no-one paid any attention to the two of us as we headed towards his corner office. His assistant was not at her desk when we walked in.

Connors shut the door.

Okay, Jen.

Briefly I considered how far I was willing to take this. I've mentioned before, I paid for my Harvard MBA working as a stripper and VIP Girl at the Eyes Only men's sex club in Manhattan. I've fucked hundreds of men for money. Women too. Sex has meant little to me, never has.

Until Vivia that is.

With Vivia, sex is transcendent. Spectacular. Something that makes me pine during the day in anticipation of going home with her.

So when I consider what to do with this sweating executive in front of me, the guy in whose hands rests the fate of nearly two hundred young women who only want the freedom to dress the way they choose, not how some fifty-something matron stuck in the eighteen-nineties believes a woman should dress, I think hard about taking the gloves off and really giving it to him. He did, after all, have a big comfy couch.

But what if I'm wrong? If I kneel on the floor in front of him with the clear intention of putting his dick in my mouth, would he back off in horror? Or think it too risky if his secretary were to walk in on us?

One blow job for two hundred female jobs? For two hundred repressed women, eager for just a chance?

A no brainer for me.

Hell, I'd rent a room at the Plaza and fuck him to Tuesday if I knew I'd get what I wanted out of this deal. I had nothing to lose. I bided my time, ready for the right moment to suggest we get a room for the cumming long weekend.

Connors walked around to sit at his desk, placing the enormous wooden office furniture between him and me.

He's got willpower, gotta give him that.

I sat in the guest chair and positioned myself so he could see me from head to toe. I crossed my legs in tight formation, bouncing the upper leg so the ankle brushed the outside of my lower leg. My oil-shine pantyhose makes a satisfying swish that fills the room and pushes his eyes downwards for a brief moment.

Then back up.

His self-control was harder to crack than it should have been. But then it dawned on me. Vivia's pheromones are out of range.

So at ten feet he may be horny. But he's not foolish. His Executive Assistant is just on the other side of that unlocked door. Briefly I wondered what Vivia's range was. Somewhere between one and ten feet it would seem.

"So Jenny," Connors began, "what's this all about?"

I swallowed hard and remembered I (sort of) had the fates of a couple of hundred women at stake. "Here's the petition, Mr. Connors. The seventh floor women have mostly all signed it. We want to be able to dress the way we want. We want upward mobility - the chance to get promoted, to use the college degrees many of us have earned."

Connors smiled. Not a nice smile. A condescending smile.

"And where did you get your degree, Jenny?"

If he was expecting a six-month correspondence certificate in fashion from the University of Phoenix, he was in for a surprise.

"Applied science majoring in AI technology from Georgia Tech and an MBA in General Management, Harvard."

Connors' eyes widened. "I see." He looked down at the petition, pretending to read it. "You understand, PPMV is a very old company, with very established principles."

"And a very old clientele, one that I understand is shrinking."

That got his attention. He did not like to be told he was a senior executive in a dead end company.

Aside from the petition and the complaint, I didn't have any other legal moves. If I didn't make any progress soon, I figured I'd have to find a way to get his cock out of his pants.

"If we're that stuck in our old ways, Miss Peters, I suggest you and your friends can..."

The door opened wide and a harried-looking woman in her late thirties burst into the office.

"What is it Janis? I'm in the middle of..."

"I'm sorry Mr. Connors," Janis said, giving me a furtive once-over. "Mr. Clausen is here. He wants to speak to you."

Connors sat forward with a start. "Mr. Clausen? Here? Right now?"

"That's right, Jack," said a voice from just outside the office.

"Paul! How are you? What brings you here?"

A slim distinguished-looking man walked into Connors' office with supreme confidence, like he owned the place. Mid-forties, light tan, about five eight, fine Zegna wool-silk sports jacket, Hermes tie, brown Bottoni Leather Oxfords.

Three months salary. Easy.

"I've just come from an executive committee meeting. We have to...". Paul stopped short, suddenly realizing I was sitting there. "Oh. Hello, Miss..."

I uncrossed my legs, filling the room with nylon swish and stood. I held out my hand to get him within V-range. "Jenny, Mr. Clausen. Jenny Peters."

"Uh, um, it's ah, it's nice to meet you Jenny. I'm sorry to barge in. Are you a client too?"

Clausen was flustered. Clearly he'd never seen anyone dressed like me at Poulsen Pendergast Masterly & Vonn. I smiled. "No Mr. Clausen. I work here."

"You work here? That's impossible. I would have..."

"... So Paul, what seems to be the problem?" Connors did not want to expose PPMV internal strife to what appeared to be a very important client.

Clausen struggled for a moment to wrest his gaze from... me. Vivia's cunt aura was leaping from my neck and flowing into his brain, turning it to mush. "I, uh, um..."

Mercifully, I stepped out of range and sat back on the couch, crossing my legs and folding my arms under my breasts. I probably should have just excused myself and left, but I wanted to see this.

Clausen turned to the SVP of PPMV. "Jack, it's not working. This ad campaign is a fucking dud. When I think about it, I can't believe I even approved this dog shit."

Connors was already sweating. But this time, it was his big client that was making him do it.

But seriously, the problem was obvious. I wondered if Connors could see it.

At least it was obvious to me.

Mind you, I do have a natural advantage over the SVP.

You see, I'm a woman.

"Paul, again, tell me the problem."

"The problem?" Clausen reached into his jacket and pulled out a small bottle of perfume. I had to suppress an audible intake of breath.

He was holding a bottle with the words "Sea Breeze" etched on the cut glass.

The same shit that was on Vivia's makeup table.

The same shit I poured into her kitchen sink.

"Here, Jack, you smell this crap." Clausen shoved the bottle under Connors nose.

"It seems okay to me, Paul."

"Well, it's not selling. In fact, I couldn't give this piss away if I...

"I don't know, Paul. Maybe if we..."

"Hold on," Clausen said. He turned to me. "You're a woman. Right?"

I smiled and recrossed my legs. "Sorry Mr. Clausen. I only play one on TV."

"Have to admit, you do a damn good impression."

Hmmm, nice comeback. Maybe he's the one I need to fuck.

"Come here and try this, Jenny. I want a woman's perspective on this."

I sensed this was a moment. Clausen is a big client of PPMV, maybe their biggest. You never know where the next opportunity lays.

Or where I might lay the next opportunity.

I uncrossed my legs with as much friction and swish as I could manage, and stood. I closed the ten feet between us. They weren't just any ten feet. Not by a long stretch. They were MY ten feet, the ten feet where Vivia's pussy pheromones come into range.

Tits out, one foot directly in front of the other, I gave those ten feet my all. Oh, he wanted to look at my long oil-shine legs. He was fighting it all the way. But I was the Eyes Only, top-earning VIP Girl who knows how to land the big fish. The Mistress of the Pole, scoping out my prospects from high above the stage.

I held his gaze and eye-fucked him the whole ten feet, shagging him good and hard.

Oh he was good and hard all right.

Wait'll I get him up close.

I put my hand on his suit jacket and leaned into his personal space. To sniff from his bottle, of course. My 34EE's, nipples rock hard and barely concealed under my cleavage-bearing blouse, pushed into his upper arm. My thick brown hair fell over my shoulder and cascaded between us, sending little tufts of Viv's D-Vabbed air floating his way.

I lowered my nose to his hand and took an audible sniff. Rearing back, I flipped my hair, unleashing more Vivia into him. From the quick intake of his breath, I knew his neck was caught in my snare.

At six-four in heels, I like to dominate a room. And a man.

Clausen's about five eight. So I've got eight inches on him. My glossy crimson lips spread in a gentle smile as I looked down into his eyes. He was sweating.

"I, uh, I, I, um, so what do you think, Jenny?"

I knew this was one of PPMV's latest and most expensive campaigns. Our executive marketing group had even helped Clausen's company choose the scent, using their "market research" to predict future sales. But I happened to know that to save money, many in the "public focus group" were PPMV employees.

Mrs. Penderly was in that focus group.

So it was no wonder this stuff smelled like a salmon fillet left in the sun too long.

"I think, Mr. Clausen, that this smells like shit."

"Miss Peters!" Connors screamed. "That is quite enough! This is our best client's signature perfume. You will not speak to him like that. You're dismissed. I will see you later."

Clausen put up his hand. "Not so fast, Jack."

He turned back to look at me. I gave him my sweetest smile. My lip gloss is so shiny and reflective, he could almost see himself in my fat, pouty lips. Which were above his eye level.

The top of my cleavage was just below his mouth.

Clausen smelled me, and then he swallowed. Hard. Pointedly, I looked down at the tiny space between us. His pants were bulging so big I knew he was desperate to rearrange things down there.

I could see it in his eyes.

"Jenny," he said. "You're right. This does smell like shit. But you. What is that perfume you're wearing? What is that scent?"

I smiled. I wasn't wearing any perfume.

My pussy dampened at the memory of Vivia D-Vabbing me this morning.

Clausen thinks Vivia's femcum is my perfume.

"It's a custom formulation, Mr. Clausen," I said.

"Paul. Call me Paul."

As in: please, please, please call me Paul.

I smiled inwardly. Men are all the same.

"Okay, Paul. My girlfriend and I made it up at one of those Mix-Your-Own perfume warehouses."

"That's incredible. Jack, come here. Smell this."

Connors could have said he'd already smelled it. Instead, he raced around his desk and leaned into me. His nose brushed my hair as he eagerly got another whiff of Vivia's cunt on my neck.

He lingered. Too long. Long enough to make Clausen question Connors' propriety.

"Yeah," Connors said at last. "It, it, um, well... yeah."

Thank you Viv.

Clausen turned to me. "Jenny, I want you on my team.

"What?" Connors blasted. "Why, she's not in Sales. Or Marketing! She's an analyst!"

"Not in Marketing you say? What's her background?"

"I don't know. She's on the seventh floor."

As if that was an answer.

"Jenny," Clausen said. "What's your background?"

"This is my first job, Paul."

"Okay. Schooling?"

"I have a bachelor's degree in AI science from Georgia Tech and an MBA in General Management from Harvard."

"Well there you go," Clausen said. "You're on my team. And the first thing you're going to do is reproduce that scent of yours. I want to bottle it."

Oh fuck.

But I recovered fast. "Paul, thank you. Yes, I'm thrilled to be on the team. Absolutely. But, there's a couple of things I need."

"Negotiating already? My-my Jenny, that's pretty bold. Okay, give me your sales pitch."

"This perfume you want to bottle. It's sexy, right? That's the vibe you're after. You want your perfume to be associated with sex."

"Jenny!" Connors shouted.

Clausen held up his hand. Again. "Go on, Jenny."

"If you want sexy products, you have to have people that think sexy. And there's nothing that gets people thinking sexy like having sexy people around them."

"Okay so far."

"But at PPMV, we're not allowed to be sexy. We're not allowed to dress sexy. We're not even allowed to think sexy."

Clausen laughed. I'd given him an excuse to sweep his eyes over my body. "Except look at you."

"Paul, I'm dressed this way, as are a lot of other girls today, as a day of protest. To escape a stodgy old dress code and drag PPMV to the modern age."

"A day of protest you say? Interesting. So tell me, what would help to make your marketing team work?"

"For one thing, encourage PPMV management to lighten up on the dress code. Sex sells. Let us be sexy.

"Second, I need someone else on the team. The other woman who helped formulate this scent."

"Where is she?"

"She's here. On seven."

Clausen turned to Connors. "Bring her up. What's her---."

"Vivia Saracini."

"Vivia?" Clausen said thoughtfully. "Interesting name."

You don't know the half of it.

Connors opened the office door and poked his head out. "Janis, call Sykes and tell him to send, uh, Vivia Saracini to my office. Immediately."

Without asking, I texted Viv.

It's all good. They think your Vab juice is perfume. Play along.

We chatted for a few moments when the door swung open and Janis announced the visitor. "Miss Saracini." Her tone could have frozen the Sailboat Pond in July.

When Viv walked in, Clausen snapped to attention.

This woman oozes sex. Her dazzling waist-length thick platinum blonde hair fell in thick, messy waves over her deep, curvy cleavage.

Don't forget about her legs.

Of fuck, I can cum just looking at Vivia legs. Long, lean, and athletic, encased in ultra-sheer oil-shine chocolate pantyhose, they stir the soul and quicken the heart. To match her platinum blonde hair, she wore a pure white bodycon dress that hugged her curves to her wasp-like waist like a second skin, the hemline barely legal. The dress clung to her gorgeous full ass, leaving little to the imagination. Her hot pink Louboutin stilettos pushed her even with me. Her tits, full and round, and only half concealed in the white silk fabric of the dress, were magnificent.

She's a goddess. Her lips are full and pouty, and oh so kissable, gorgeously adorned with a brilliant slash of crimson lipstick, perfectly applied in a glossy wet look that says, 'kiss me'. Her gigantic eyes are infinite blue sparklers that shine right through you.

My girlfriend and lover.

Thanks to Vivia, Clausen now has the face and body to match the scent.

His enslavement was instant.

"Paul, Jack," I said, "this is Vivia. We're partners. Vivia, Paul here is a client of PPMV, and he's interested in our perfume."

Vivia's eyes went wide for a moment. But she caught on quick.

"I see," she said. I could see the wheels turning in her gorgeous blonde head. "Paul, we actually did a few different scents. I'm wearing something a little different. Tell me, do you like this one?"

She slid her hand onto her neck and pulled her waist-length platinum hair into the air, exposing her long slim neck. Clausen nearly fell over a chair getting to her. When he got close, Vivia stepped into him, pushing his nose into her hair and her tits into his neck.

A move any VIP girl would be proud of.

Vivia's invisible pheromones reached out to Clausen like unbreakable tendrils of doom, ensnaring him in her sticky web, winding themselves around his cock and seeping into his brain.

Seeing the opportunity, I moved in on his other side, pushing my tits into his shoulder. "Here," I said. "We're wearing two different scents. You can compare."

He was hemmed in by two gorgeous, motivated sluts. In our heels, we were eight inches taller than he. His wet dream come true.

Clausen's nose went into my hair. Vivia looked down at the bulge in his pants and winked at me. I nodded.

"We have sooooo many ideas, Mr. Clausen," Vivia said breathlessly. "But, I've just been fired by Mr. Sykes and Mrs. Penderly, so..."

"Fired? You've been fired? Why?"

Vivia's voice made her the poor child who'd been abused and unappreciated. She knew exactly what she was doing. Innocent as the driven snow, she was the victim of an angry, unreasonable overlord. But, her tone implied, maybe Clausen could be her knight in shining armor, coming to the rescue just in time.

"Because Jenny and I came to work like this." Vivia stood back and invited Clausen and Connors to scan up and down her magnificent body, from her stunning long legs to her drool-worthy cleavage. I stood beside Vivia, locking my arm in hers.

Clausen looked pointedly at Connors. His face was plain as day: What the fuck?

"Nonsense, of course you're not fired," Connors sputtered. "Absolutely not. You're part of the team. Both of you."

"And the dress code?" I said. "It's got to go if you expect even a modicum of creativity down there."

Clausen looked at Connors. "Jack?"

"The dress code goes. Absolutely."

YES

"Excellent," Clausen said. "Jack, I want these two women on my team. Vivia, Jenny, you're coming to our labs and we're going to reproduce those scents. Both of them. Can you get any more?"

"Oh, I think I can make some more," Vivia said. "Right after work."

She licked her thick glossy crimson lips. I nearly came right there.

I think Clausen might have.

"Me too," I said. "In fact, I can't wait to make more." That much was true.

"Suddenly I'm excited," Clausen said. "I can see it now. This perfume will be the flagship for a whole new generation of products." He stepped back. "Vivia, I'm offering you a contract, right here, right now. We're going to call our new scent "Vivia". You'll be the face of the new campaign. Right Jack?"

"Yes, yes, of course, of course. Right."

"And Jenny. Let's put that Harvard MBA to good use. I want you to frame up a business case for the new campaign. Pricing, marketing costs, packaging, the works. What do you say?"

Vivia grabbed my hand and squeezed.

"Assuming we can work out adequate terms, then in principle we are a yes." I said.

"What did you have in mind?"

"Well, it IS our scent. And if Vivia's face and body are to be plastered above Times Square, she will expect compensation commensurate with that role."

"You're already being paid by PPMV," SVP Connors said, trying to stay relevant in the conversation.

"Vivia and I each make $65,000 per year. At that price, the fragrances stay ours and this is not happening."

"Quite," Clausen said. "She's right, Jack. Tell you what. As part of my team Jenny and Vivia, you'll be paid a bonus, directly from us. Upon successful duplication of the scent, you'll each be bonused $250,000 in exchange for our rights to the formula. If the marketing campaign is successful, Vivia you'll receive a modelling and media contract at the elite level. Jenny, your bonuses will be tied to sales volume. If this campaign goes as I know it will, you'll both be earning seven figures within the year."

In my periphery, I saw Connors nearly spit out his coffee.

"Okay," Vivia said. There was a hint of skepticism in her voice.

"And Jenny," said Clausen. "We're going to try to duplicate your scent too. And I already know what I'm going to call it."

"Surely not 'Jenny'", I said with a smile.

"Sorry, no. We're going to call it: 'Office Siren'. Fitting, don't you think?"

I've always had a name in mind for a fragrance.

'Come With Me'.

Not subtle enough, I guess. "I'm flattered."

"Okay, that's it," Clausen said. "Unless Jack?"

SVP Connors shook his head and began to usher us out of his office. "Collect your things. You're moving up to 44 with the marketing team. Give me the afternoon to get it arranged. In the meantime, you can have the rest of the day off."

"We're dressing just as we want," Vivia said, holding her ground.

"And so are the other women at PPMV," I added. "Mrs. Penderly can no longer be in charge of the dress code."

"I see that," Connors said. "But I'll have to find a replacement. That may take some time."

The fucker's stalling. Can't let that happen. "There's a woman on seven named Summer Flowers who'd be perfect. She's a graduate of the Fashion Institute of Technology and she has the best sense of style I've ever seen."

Connors poked his head out the door. "Janis, call Sykes and have him send Summer Flowers up here right away. She's on seven." He turned to Clausen. "I'll get the company-wide memo out right away."

Clausen nodded. "That's the right move, Jack. Sex sells. It's time PPMV got with the program."

Connors nodded, anxious to please his biggest client. He stood and punched his intercom. "Janis, have Mrs. Penderly come up right away. And get me a small conference room." Connors looked at Clausen. "You can use my office while I deal with this. The memo will be out within the hour, if not sooner."

Connors shook Clausen's hand and left.

Clausen turned to me. "Jenny, I have something else I'd like to ask you."

Here it comes.

Earlier I'd decided he'd could cum in my pussy or my mouth, whichever he wanted. But maybe that won't be necessary. He's already given me what I want. Maybe I can use that for future leverage.

I pressed into his left arm to feed him more of Vivia's essence. A touch on his shoulder, a soulful look into his eyes. A gentle smile. "Whatever you want, Paul, I will give it to you. Tell me what you want."

Clausen swallowed. Hard.

Speaking of hard, the bulge in his pants was starting to twitch. "Um, I, um."

Vivia, my quick-witted vixen, got right in there on his right side, hooking her hand onto his forearm and pressing in close. "Just tell us what you want. Anything." The last word came out in a whisper.

The two of us pressed into him. In stilettos, we both had eight inches on him. He had to look up to our glossy lips, and down to our gorgeous cleavage.

Wouldn't it be great if I could make that breast button on my blouse pop right about now?

I could see it in his eyes. I've seen that look hundreds of times. His boner is so hard his cock is literally twitching. But it's hung up somehow and he desperately wants to reach into his pants to adjust it. Briefly I considered doing it for him.

Careful Jenny. Too soon. This isn't Eyes Only.

Clausen looked at me. "At some point, uh Jenny, I'd, um, I'd..."

I squeezed his upper arm to my breast. "What, Paul? What is it you want?"

He was really sweating now. He tried to lick his lips but his mouth was dry. "I was wondering if you would have dinner with me."

Wow. And in front of Viv too.

I put on my best VIP girl sultry. "Sure, Paul. I'll have dinner with you."

"To discuss future plans," he said quickly.

"Of course. Just us?" I smiled sweetly at him.

"No, no, there may be others. Let me get it set up."

I glanced at Vivia, who nodded. "Perhaps Vivia can come too."

"I'd love to cum," Vivia said with a soft smile.

Clausen nearly swooned at Vivia's double entendre. Our pheromones were really sinking into him.

"Um, yes, that would be fine. Yes, um, okay, leave it with me."

Summer was ushered into the office. I happen to think Summer is the sexiest dresser I've ever met. Elegant, with just a hint of slutty. Today, she proved it.

She'd gone all out today because she had nothing to lose. And that's how she played it.

"What can I do for you, boys?"

Summer's a stunning young woman, with brilliant long red hair and a spectacular figure, with tits that can almost compare to my own. She was wearing bumblebee yellow Jimmy Choo stilettos, nude Gio ultra-sheer fully-fashioned nylons with a Charleston heel and back seams, and a forest-green pure silk dress cut just above the knee, with a side slit running to the welts of her nylons. The dress was tailored close to her waist and bodice, and the girls were supported with a sexy pushup that created a soft rounded shelf of exposed boob. She wore black lace shoulder-length opera gloves with the ends of the fingers cut out to reveal ten long glossy scarlet talons. Her full lips were gooey with gloss, accompanying a light application of eye shadow for contrast.

Sex on wheels.

"Yes, I see now," Clausen said. "You have a good eye Jenny."

Connors returned. "Summer, we need to revamp the dress code. Jenny here thinks you would be a good fit for that role. Are you interested?"

Summer looked skeptical. "Are we talking about a tweak to the existing code? Am I to work for Mrs. Penderly?"

"No. This will be all yours. Penderly's out. I'm taking care of that this morning. I'd like Jenny and Vivia to assist you, however. There will be a bump in your pay package to compensate you for the trouble."

"Then..." Summer began.

"What's the bump?" I said, not wanting Summer to lose her advantage.

"Well, um, let's get you to one hundred K. Would that be acceptable?"

"One-twenty and you've got a deal," I said. It was risky, negotiating for Summer, but I had the advantage and would have felt awful later if I didn't press it.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Vivia texting.

"Okay, one-twenty. So, I guess that's it," Connors said. "Paul?"

"I'm good. Jenny, Vivia, once you get settled, I'd like to have you over at our offices, sometime later this week if you can manage it."

"Absolutely," we said, almost in unison.

"And I'll let you know about that dinner."

Probably needed to clear his schedule with his wife. I made a mental note to put my phone charger in my purse.

When the three of us got onto the elevator, we hugged each other, laughing.

"How in the everlasting FUCK did you pull that off?" Summer said.

"Jenny is the Queen of the Amazons," Vivia said. "You should have seen her in action."

Summer looked at me carefully. "Wouldn't mind if I did."

Was that just an innocent crack in the levity of the moment?

Or was it...

Naw. My fem feelers were spiking on overdrive. So fuck it. No half measures.

I glanced at Vivia. She gave me a single nod.

In a second I had my arms around Summer's neck and my tongue in her mouth.

"Mmmm," the redhead murmured as she settled into me and slipped her tongue between my lips. Summer's hands went to my lower back, pulling me into full-body contact.

"Hey!" Vivia said.

Summer immediately broke off the kiss and looked warily at Viv. "I'm sorry. That might have shocked you. I guess I..."

Viva closed the gap between them in about six microseconds and landed her fat juicy lips on Summer's. My girlfriend pushed Summer into a corner and poured kisses all over her face and neck. Summer's legs began to buckle. I knew exactly how that works. When she's motivated, Vivia has this way of swarming your face with wet kisses that could fell a giant. It's unbelievably sexy. Watching these two spectacular women go after each other with such passion made my pussy drip.

We were getting close to ground level.

"Girls," I said. "Girls!"

They broke it off and as one, their heads turned to me. "What?" Summer snarled. Both were breathing hard.

"Were almost at ground. Look, we've got the rest of the day off. We've got lots of time."

Vivia turned to Summer and kissed the tip of her nose. "Come home with us."

Summer's eyes widened. "You two live together?"

"I guarantee you one thing Red," Vivia said. "If you come home with us, you'll cum again. And again. And again."

"It's very musky in here," Summer said. "Are you two wearing new perfume?"

Vivia smiled and looked at Summer's mouth. "I have a feeling we're going to sample a new fragrance real soon."

After fixing our lipsticks and faces, the three of us got onto the elevator for the seventh floor. As we walked in, the entire office of women stood and cheered, applauding our entrance. I took Vivia's and Summer's hands and as one, we curtsied to the crowd. Then everyone crowded around us to get the juicy details.

It was fun and exciting, but all I could think of was how fast I could get these two sluts home.

***

They had me splayed out on my back in the middle of Vivia's soft king bed, held down by two hundred and thirty pounds of wanton female animal who were one hundred percent focused on rendering me into a babbling drooling slut.

Vivia was straddling my face, reverse cowgirl, her weight spread out over my upper body. As she rotated her core, squishing her sex around my mouth, Summer was holding my legs down, sucking and licking my pussy like it was an ice cream sundae.

Meanwhile, I was going to town on Vivia's sweet snatch, drinking in her gushing juices and doing my best to infuse my entire body with the inspiration for the new fragrance "Vivia", coming soon to a Sephora near you.

D-Vabbing in the extreme. Internal D-Vabbing? ID-Vabbing?

And while Vivia's pussy was intoxicating, I was loving what Summer was doing down there.

Ohh.

She has this pointed narrow tongue that drives me insane. At the office she once showed me how she can lick her nose. Not just the tip. That tongue went nearly to the bridge of her nose. I remember my pussy dampening at the possibilities.

But that isn't all. Summer can roll her tongue back into her mouth like a carpet.

Some people say these are useless skills.

These are not useless skills.

You wouldn't say that if you had Summer laying on top of your legs, going to town on your sex.

That tongue. Ohh. That tongue, that tongue, that tongue...

So long and narrow and ohhh so flexible.

She snaked that tongue deep into my snatch, deep, deep, deep. Holding it stiff, she pulled out, then back in. Out. In. Out. In.

Fucking me with her freakishly long, narrow tongue.

No-one has ever, ever got soooo deep inside me with just tongue.

And then, and then, and then...

That flexible little mouth snake curled up, deep inside me, curled up, up, up right into my fucking G. But there was more. So very much more.

That narrow flexible nose-licking tongue curled and uncurled along my G. Slipping and sliding across my orgasmic zone. So much more feeling than a cock. Than a finger even.

The tip of her tongue, just rough enough. Pointed, wet, flexible. Curling and uncurling, curling and uncurling, over and over and over. Her upper lip landing on my clit, the copious flow of my juices making everything slippery and gorgeous.

Ohhh. That tongue. Those lips.

Vivia's glorious, juicy pussy was all over me, D-Vabbing me in the extreme, her addictive soft cunt swarming over my face, filling me with her sex, swamping my brain. Summer invaded my pussy, the pure, unrelenting onslaught of her spectacular tongue and mouth assaulting my G & my C with such enthusiasm borne of knowledge and skill, hundreds of pounds of tiger woman pinning me helplessly immobile to the massive soft bed, the women holding me down and pledging their carnal intent to wrench orgasm after orgasm after orgasm out of my electric-charged body.

Ohhhh. Here it comes. That deep tingle, getting stronger, rising up, unstoppable, building, building, building, ohhhh, Vivia! Summer! I submit myself to you, I am yours! Take me, ravish me, plunder me, take my body and have your way with me, do what you will, take me, take me, take me away, away, awaaaaaaay...

Cumming. Cumming. Cuuuuuuuummmmmmminnnnnngggg!!

My body shaking, no - vibrating, the orgasm washing over me, in complete control of my mind, my body, my soul, powering through me, curling my toes, arching my back, swamping over me, pleasure, ecstasy, so much ecstasy, taking me in its power, infusing me with the pure realization there is nothing, nothing in this world but Vivia's pussy, Summer's tongue and my vibrating, spasming, gushing fucking CUUUUNT!!!!

The sheer intensity of my orgasm was multiplied by the knowledge these sex machines know exactly what they are doing, how to make me cum with mind-altering violence, and that they are absolutely, most definitely resolutely determined NOT TO FUCKING STOP until they have wrenched wave after wave of brain-breaking orgasms out of my body, orgasms so mighty, so prolonged, so repeatedly numerously mercilessly strung together, and so insanely earth shatteringly powerful, that I may never ever, ever recover, I may never awaken from the ecstatic stupor wrought by their hungry, relentless bodies, tongues, and lips.

Even as my orgasm began to subside, Summer's tireless little tongue curled back up into my G, swirling and sliding deep inside me. Though my orgasm had faded slightly, the women who had swarmed over me in a coordinated attack the moment we stepped into my apartment, these lusty gorgeous women did not let me fall far from the cliff. They were determined to haul me up and throw me back into the abyss, haul me up and throw me back, to do it over and over, a Dante's Inferno of sexual torture, again and again and again and again for all eternity, an eager flexible tongue and a soft, luscious, pussy their relentless weapons of choice.

I basked in selfish joy and ecstasy as I let Vivia and Summer take me, pinning me deep into my enormous soft bed, relentless, heartless, merciless.

Cummminnnnggggg agaaaain! Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, fuck, fuck. These witches, these stunning cunt loving whores, ohh, cuuuuummminggg. My body convulsed and spasmed with renewed power, breaking me, sweeping away all reason, all thoughts save instinctive utter, carnal LUST.

This time they offered me no respite, no pause, no recovery. As if by signal, they renewed their attack, even as my orgasm was just now fading, burrowing deep into me. My strength gone, I offered no resistance, just submission, knowing by instinct alone that submission is joy, submission is ecstasy, submission is utter, endless, rutting pleasure beyond comprehension.

Submission is brain-breaking orgasms, strung one after the other, after the other, after the other, again, again, again, a slave to their relentless pursuit of my utter surrender, their commitment to breaking me the source of their inspired attack on my body, my brain, my soul.

And what is 'breaking me'? What exactly does that mean?

Breaking me is my total surrender. Ceding my body, my brain to the sexual predators holding me fast, having their complete way with me, doing whatever they will, having me, my body their plaything, the living orgasmic machine from which they can use me at will. I am their submissive cum slut, all thoughts of moderation, of ending it, of self-preservation were banished from my soul, gone, cast out in my utter and complete surrender to their control of me.

Breaking is cumming on command.

At one point, in a foggy haze of pure lust, my brain tried to tell me "Too much, too hard, too long, too sensitive", that my core, my pussy would never be the same. That one more orgasm would ruin me, wear me out, break me completely, never to rise again. But my pussy fought back against my brain, all reason lost, just rutting feeling, urging "more, more, more". My pussy shouting to my brain, "this body of ours, we can just lie here and let them take us, make us cum and cum and cum until we fall apart into tiny throbbing pulsing pieces, writhing and spasming to the end of time."

Again these two tireless goddesses hauled me back out of the depths of orgasmic recovery, pushing me up, up, right to the edge of the cliff, and there they held me, pinned down, no strength left, unable to move, helpless, their attack coordinated and relentless. I was ready, ready to cum yet again, impossible but true, these two glorious living orgasmatrons turning me into their helpless sex slave. My sole job was to cum, to feel the ecstasy of their greedy ministrations, to receive their tireless tongues and their gushing, pulsing pussies. I surrendered utterly to them, all thoughts of resistance and over-sensitivity and selflessness banished. All I could do was accept them, accept that they owned my body, accept that I was theirs to do as they pleased, to accept that I was nothing but a cumming, greedy, hungry slut, resigned to the knowledge that my tireless mistresses would not stop, would not be satisfied until they had thrust me far away into another universe entirely, a universe consisting of lust and cumming, and pure unadulterated pleasure.

They held me, right on the edge, keeping me there until I begged, begged, begged them to let me cum, let my body explode yet again. And so they redoubled their attack and I just faded back into mindless acceptance, nestling into the deep, soft bed and accepted my lot, accepted that my only task was to surrender my fate and do my only job and do it well, do my simple job to enjoy their bodies and when they decided, to just cum and cum and cum and cum and cum.

I faded into the mist; my vision clouded. I fell into a sexual trance, spreadeagling my legs and opening my mouth, just accepting. I let them have me. They wanted nothing in return but to gift me with everything they had. To send an endless stream of orgasms washing over me, turning me into that babbling drooling fool, a brainless, cumming slut, until the darkness took me into that deep, dreamless place of utter exhaustion and pure, electric, endless joy.

***

I woke in a dreamy state to a city darkness. Darkness is never complete in this city. I was dimly aware that my body was still alive, still electric, still able to receive stimulus. Two bodies were sprawled around and upon me. Summer's hair, its brilliant red hues glowing in the streetlight streaming through my windows, was spewed over my neck and breasts. One hand cupped my breast, and it would not be still. Even in sleep, Summer's hand squeezed and caressed my breast, keeping me on the edge even in the deepest of sleeps. Vivia's long lean leg was draped over my pussy and thighs, her face somehow thrust into Summer's pussy, both women inert and breathing deeply.

I thought how wonderful it would be to open my eyes from a deep sleep and discover Vivia's pussy draped over my face.

Mmmm.

Contented and exhausted, I fell back to sleep.

***

I awoke to the intoxicating smell of freshly ground coffee. Summer was in the kitchen, wearing one of my short silk robes. She hadn't bothered to tie the belt, leaving the robe open, revealing the gorgeous inside curves of her breasts and her swollen juicy pink pussy.

Vivia was there too, spooning yoghurt and fruit into a dish. She wore one of my white blouses, entirely unbuttoned down the front. And nothing else. I loved the way the tail of my blouse rested on the full roundness of Vivia's gorgeous full bum.

I stretched, getting my full body into it. The movement caught the eye of my vixen lover, who squealed and came bounding back to the bed.

Vivia wrapped her arms around my neck and pressed her full pouty lips onto mine. "Mmmm sleepy baby, did you enjoy last night?"

"Oh my fucking Lilith. You two were aliens from another planet. I've never cum so much in my whole, useless..."

"So you like being dominated then. Run the show at work, be our slut at night?" Vivia pushed her fat juicy lips on mine. "

That made my pussy tingle. I broke the kiss and whispered in her ear. "You're a sorceress. Did Summer eat you out last night too?"

Vivia shuddered. "That tongue. Unfucking believable. Nobody eats pussy like you and Summer."

"You're not so bad yourself, cumslut."

"When we first got together," Vivia whispered, "I said I was done with amateurs. Lemme tell ya, Summer's no amateur. Not by a long shot."

I kissed her nose. "Are you thinking what I think you're thinking?"

"Think she's available?"

"We'll need a bigger place."

"Which we can absolutely afford now."

"And a bigger bed."

"A lot bigger."

At that moment, Summer sat on the edge of the bed. "Whatcha talkin' about?"

I smiled and patted her thigh. "You."

"Good or bad?"

"Vivia and I want you to move in with us."

"We'll need a bigger place," Vivia said.

"And a bigger bed," I added.

"Hmmm," Summer said. "Vivia, thanks to you I came four times last night. I don't know how much of that I can take."

I rose up and wrapped my arms around her neck and kissed her hard on the lips. "Let's go for five."

"Why stop there?" Vivia smiled.

Summer laughed. "You make a very compelling argument."

"So?"

"Can we afford to live in the Village?"

"Damn straight."

"I'm wet already."

"So that's a yes?"

"To fuck with you two every night? Fuckin' A."

"So, it's a deal," Viv said. "Time for work. Let's get ready to take on old PPMV."

I stood and looked at my two lovers. "Take over, you mean. We're going to take over this whole fucking company. This is it ladies. It's our time. Out with old."

"In with the new," Viv and Summer said in unison.

"And the sexy," I added. "But first Summer, there's a ritual Viv and I perform on each other. We'd love for you to join us."

"Sounds interesting. What is it?"

"Why don't you lie right down there in the middle of the bed, and let us show you."

~~

Josie's Notes

Jenny's plan is going well so far. But she's never worked in Marketing and suddenly she's in charge of a major new product launch initiative. She'll have to assemble a team she can trust to fulfill her vision and that of her client. Any thoughts on what type of people Jenny might seek out to assemble her team?

Looks like Summer's on the Jenny train. With the staid old Penderly out, 23-year-old Summer has been given responsibility for designing and overseeing the new dress code at PPMV. Given Summer's stunning sexuality, I think the old PR firm is in for some changes.

Next chapter, Jenny organizes an off-site party for the team at a billiards bar in Brooklyn. Jenny, Vivia and Summer take the dress code up a few notches for the party. Jenny considers inviting some of her girlfriends from the strip club. Free drinks, company executives mingling with drunken female staff, sluts in fetish wear, and billiards. What could go wrong?