This is a sequel to
The Boss's Concrete Fortress.
The first section describes what happened the previous week.
The First Incident
I wondered when I'd hear from Lynn Fortier again because she had told me to expect her. I didn't know how long that would be; she had only said it would be "occasionally." It turned out to be only a week. She was the executive director of my division, but I didn't report directly to her. Except for the previous week, I had rarely spoken to her. She didn't go in for a lot of socializing with her employees
Around three o'clock in the afternoon, she suddenly appeared by my desk. She didn't greet me; all she said was, "Are you going to be working late here again tonight?" I was feeling a bit more feisty than I had the previous week and I answered honestly, "You know with all these books I'm working on now I'll definitely be here this evening."
"Good, because as I said last time, I'd like to see you again." Then she continued, "I think you'll like this; you're going to get more for yourself this time. And so will I. Of course, there will be some pain involved on your part, but as we discovered before, you like that kind of thing."
That was one of the longest explanations she had ever given me about anything, plus she was smiling at me, also unusual. I merely nodded. She went on, "So knock on my office door at, say, 8:30 PM. Believe me, I'll make it worth your time."
I didn't ask for any further details, and she just turned and left. I didn't know how much choice I had in this matter, but I wasn't going to complain about it at that point. I only knew what she was talking about in general terms, not the specifics.
This was in April 1989 at a small legal publishing company in New Jersey. Actually, the unit was small - about eighty people - but it was part of a much larger corporate entity that went up four corporate levels to the aptly named Apex Communications.
Somehow I worked for all of these divisions, but I identified most with the smallest one, my own workplace. Todd-Hackett Legal Works published books for attorneys, and it was miles away from the other, higher divisions. The aptly-named Apex itself was headquartered at a skyscraper it had built for itself in New York. Meanwhile, our far-flung little outpost occupied a portion of a two-story concrete pillbox in Clifton, NJ.
I had been at Todd-Hackett for about eight months by that time, and I was soon indulging in some very odd behavior. I hated the hours of unpaid overtime I had to put in as an "exempt" employee. Also, my marriage to my wife of fourteen years, Janey, was starting to go south. All of those hours at work weren't helping my marital situation.
Anyway, I took out my frustrations by masturbating in different parts of the building at odd hours if no one else was around. I had plenty of opportunities for that, and I got increasingly careless about when and where I whacked off.
One night I decided to do get clever and pleasure myself while kneeling on the floor of Lynn's corner office. I turned off the lights but I left the door open. Then I took some hand lotion and got into a hot jerk-off session imagining Audrey, the trim blonde wife who sat in the cubicle next to mine.
I don't know if it's God or some other entity who controls what happens in this world. But that night, Lynn did walk in unexpectedly, turned on the lights, and I got caught in mid-stroke. It seemed to be the first time she had ever returned after leaving for the evening.
I thought my only hope then was that she would let me resign rather than going through official human resources channels to get me fired. But it turned out that neither of those was going to happen. Instead, she used the incident as an excuse to indulge her own perverse proclivities.
It was pretty straightforward, I guess. First, she took me over her knees, fondled my backside, and then beat my bare ass with a thick ruler. She was quite forceful with it, and she bruised my ass, but we both noticed the huge erection I got during the session. I had never been spanked before, and that development surprised me. Maybe it surprised her too.
Then I had to stand by the window and finish my interrupted bout of jerking-off while Lynn watched. She wanted me to describe what I was imagining doing to Audrey while this fantasy was going on. I didn't think I could perform under that kind of pressure, but actually, I did fine. Lynn even noted the thickness and distance of the semen stream I shot off onto her floor. She said, "Well, that was certainly impressive."
Then I was dismissed. "I may have you back here for another session . . . you can go now."
When I was in my car I had a sore ass and a well-stroked penis - self-stroked of course. I felt I had been very lucky in how it had all turned out. I guessed that Lynn would forget all about the incident and I would never hear about our offbeat encounter again.
Discipline
Well, I was wrong about that. At 8:30 I knocked on her door and I heard her say, "It's not locked; please come on in."
I was surprised to find her standing in front of her desk, leaning on it. There was also a chair there, facing her, and I figured I was supposed to sit in it.
I was right about that. She said, "Close the door and have a seat, make yourself comfortable. Would you like a glass of wine?" She wasn't exactly friendly, but she seemed to have lost some of the frostiness she had shown last week when she had caught me whacking my own dick while over in the corner.
There was a bottle on the desk and two water tumblers, not wine glasses, next to it. "All right, I'll have some." After pouring, she just stood there for a couple of moments without saying anything.
I had the insight that she wanted me to look her over, make an assessment of her. The previous week had been more than a bit surprising, and in the months before that most of my sexual attention had gone to other, younger women like the leggy blonde Audrey
In 1989 I was thirty-four. I didn't know Lynn's exact age, but I found out later that she was forty-one. She had been nick-named, behind her back, as "Big Red" by the staff. Part of that was because of her bright red hair, which on that night she had unpinned so that it fell to her shoulders. For a long time, I had suspected that it wasn't her natural hair color.
She was also big in a couple of other ways. One was the authority she exerted in our office. But she was also not a petite lady. She was about five-foot-nine, and she had a voluptuous body. I guessed that she had probably put on a few pounds over the years, but she still looked pretty good.
There was no apparent shyness in the way she was looking back at me, so I took a bit more time to check out her appearance. As usual, her clothes and make-up were impeccable. She had a medium brown suit with a tight skirt, a white blouse, and - this was a nice touch - purple high heels.
She was a bit vain about wearing her glasses, but on that evening she had them on. They had thick, dark frames. Was that so she could see me better? All in all, I hadn't noticed this before, but I thought,
she's an absolutely classic MILF.
We sipped from our wine glasses. I felt more assertive this time and I blurted out, "Lynn, take your glasses off for a moment." She looked confused for a moment, then she understood my request. I wanted to get a better look at her face.
Usually, women look more vulnerable without their glasses, but that wasn't true for Lynn. She had intense dark eyes, and there was something about her expression - a kind of hardness, I'd call it, even when she was smiling. I knew little about her personal life beyond that she was divorced and had two kids in Montclair High School.
Yet I could tell she must have been stunningly beautiful when she was younger, and she still was pretty good right now. I got some hints from her. She asked me, "Does your wife know you're working late tonight?"
"She's not going to be surprised at whatever hour I come back."
"Tell me, how is your marriage going?"
Why was that any of her fucking business?
