The story so far:
Unlike most company whores (not her actual title), Diane was not caught embezzling and forced into the position. Her attitudes toward sex had long been very liberal, and the new position she was offered certainly seemed to be a promotion. After some hesitation, she decided to accept it--of course without foreseeing all of the implications. When not fulfilling her more
interpersonal
responsibilities at Hartford's well-known beauty-products company, Diane continues doing her previous work in manufacturing cost accounting and quality assurance.
************
Chapter 03
Bored with the long memo she was drafting--another analysis of yet another quality assurance screwup at the New Britain factory--Diane swept her eyes about her office. Modest it was, but quite an improvement over the cubicle she had occupied four months ago. The plants at her window looked thirsty. The orchids were doing surprisingly well, though. They actually liked the soft, indirect light from the eastern sky. She had just risen to get the plastic watering can when the desk phone rang. Its LCD announced, "VP Operations."
"Diane Fortier," she said.
"Diane, Skip Mobley. I hate to drag you away from the latest SNAFU in New Britain."
"Being dragged away from New Britain will be a pleasure, Mr. Mobley. How can I help?"
"Ready to put on your other hat and switch to your other job... for the first time, I believe? The first time other than in-house work, I mean of course."
"As ready as I'll ever be--if that's not too ambiguous a response."
Mobley chuckled. "Ambiguity is sexy: don't lose that gift. Also, don't worry: you'll do fine. Here's the situation. Krantz and Flannery are here from Erato. Krantz has the
mojo;
Flannery is a subaltern. We're on the verge of selling Erato the factory in Lowell, Mass, and a couple of the product lines it produces. We've got a price both sides can live with, give or take a few tens of thousands, and we're sweetening the deal by agreeing to buy more bulk ingredients from them.
"The deal should have been signed and sealed by now, but somehow it seems to have stalled, and nobody on our side can figure out why or exactly what the stumbling block is. Maybe somebody in Cincinnati is having second thoughts; maybe Erato's just gaslighting us; maybe they don't know what the problem is either. For some reason, lots of negotiations take a detour into
The Twilight Zone
--if that old reference makes any sense to anyone anymore."
"
Unexplained Mysteries,
" Diane offered.
"Exactly. I just sent you a half-dozen memos on the deal. Read them before you come join us. We'll all be in the eighth floor conference room, down the hall from my office. My private conference room at my office is available to you too, if you and Krantz and possibly Flannery want some privacy. I'll unlock its door to the hallway for you, and I'll warn Cheryl you might be coming. We'll probably take a 20-minute break somewhere around quarter after two. I'll call you from my cell phone when that begins. Come to the big conference room then, and you can begin your work at once. Maybe you can help break the logjam. You may have to spend the rest of the afternoon with us. I have to get back to the negotiations. Any questions so far?"
Diane had no idea exactly what she was supposed to do or exactly how she was supposed to do it. Most likely it would involve intimate physical contact--as her doctor always delicately called it. She'd wing it.
"No, Mr. Mobley," she said. "No questions at the moment. I'll read the documents you sent. See you later this afternoon."
Another perk of her new position, she reflected: her official title was something other than "Company Whore." Though that title did have a certain bracing honesty to it. It was certainly much clearer than the title they gave her: Manager of Client Services.
Maybe, she thought, she should at least mentally promote herself from "whore" to "courtesan." After all, her job training had included units on poise, French
cuisine
, and ballroom dancing--in addition to the cocksucking, anal sex, and a couple of other acts that might still be illegal in Connecticut.
She picked up her plastic tumbler and bottle of unscented liquid soap and headed to the ladies' room to give herself a quick touchup between her legs. She made a mental note to bring back some water for the plants.
************
By and large, Diane's new round of training had been enjoyable. It had stretched over three months, though she had also been working during most of that period. Now both her social skills and her lovemaking skills were even better than they had been, and all at the expense of Tolland Health and Beauty Products. Not a bad deal, she thought, to say nothing of the large pay raise, better health plan, and her own office. And--in the unlikely event she was invited to dinner at the embassy--she was now in no danger of confusing the salad fork, fruit fork, and dessert fork.
One drawback of her new position was, she was now obligated to have sex with nine or ten company executives, more or less whenever they wanted. So far, she had serviced six of them, including her old boss, Phil Uhler, and--during her training, though not since--Mobley. Fortunately, all the executives kept pretty busy and did not have many spare minutes to devote to sex. Diane had gotten quite good at giving quick and efficient blowjobs. That usually suited both the executives and herself.
Mobley had made the initial assessment of her sexual skills. Very good overall; deep throat and anal needed work. Mobley himself did the training in deep throat. He was knowledgeable and patient, and Diane found her skills increasing at a good pace. She felt proud when at last Mobley's pubic hair tickled her nose and he ejaculated into her throat. As a bonus, the taste seemed less strong that way, too.
