The Divorcee and the Law Firm

The elevator doors opened, and Gloria stepped onto the polished wooden floor. She rarely had occasion to visit the executive offices at the law firm where she worked, but she had gotten an email from Mr. Lembach himself saying he needed her help with the Fleming account.

There was no need to ask which Fleming account. James Fleming was a highly successful East Coast real estate tycoon who was looking to expand his empire. Her law firm was one of the top two bidding for his West Coast conquests. She didn't know what she could add, but this account -- and the profits it would bring -- was the only thing anyone talked about.

Her high heels tapped on the polished floor. Everything about the floor radiated opulence and success. There was wood everywhere, and it was polished to a glossy sheen. She sighed at the glamor of it all. Her own job, three floors down, was far removed from the senior partners.

"Hi, Stephanie," she said to the pretty blond secretary across from the elevators. "Mr. Lembach wanted to see me." Stephanie looked at her coldly, which surprised Gloria. They had chatted occasionally in the lunch room, and Stephanie had always seemed pleasant enough.

"Yes, I know," said the secretary with a scowl. "Go on in." So much for a friendly face, Gloria thought.

She knocked lightly on the massive wooden door, and she could barely make out the voice behind it. "Come on in," she heard.

Mr. Lembach's office was huge. Large windows looked out across the city, and plush chairs were scattered around the edge. She paused to take it all in before hearing the sound of someone clearing his throat to her right. The view had taken her in so much that she had forgotten to find Mr. Lembach.

She had seen him give talks at Christmas parties and the like, so she recognized him as she turned. He had a close-cropped head of white-grey hair, and he was smiling as she turned to face him.

"It's quite a view, isn't it," he said warmly. She nodded, meekly. She was not normally cowed by large displays of power, but it was hard to ignore the stunning vista.

"Have a seat," he said, gesturing toward an elegant, leather-backed chair in front of his desk. She walked over and sat delicately on the chair facing the mahogany desk.

"Ms White," he said. Then he paused. "May I call you Gloria?" She nodded, mutely. She suddenly felt very small. He tipped his head.

"I know you've been working with us for a few years now, and your manager says you're quite a capable employee." Was she getting promoted? Why was he delivering the news, then?

"But I'm sorry to say I may have to let you go." She gasped. That wasn't what she had expected.

"Why?" she blurted out.

"I'm not sure you present the correct image for our firm." She was confused and started to splutter. He held up his hand.

"My wife's out of town, and I was exploring some, shall we say, darker corners of the Internet." And with that he turned the monitor on his desk toward her.

Her breath caught in her throat. It had just been a lark, she thought. She and her new yard boy had made an amateur porn site of her in various sexy poses, wearing increasingly less lingerie, having sex. She had wanted to see how much traffic it would get.

But now she was seeing the pictures splattered across the firm's most senior partner's computer. Her in a sheer black nightie, lifting it to expose her bald pussy. Her on her knees with her lover's cock deep in her throat. The list went on and on.

"Now, the site says Raven Cummins," said Mr. Lembach, "but I think we both know who it really is." Her mouth was agape. How had he found it? She couldn't take her eyes off the screen, but his words filtered through. She slowly nodded. The name had come from her soft, jet-black curls. The last name was obvious enough.

"I don't care what you do privately," he said, as she slowly turned her face back to his. His smile was less friendly now, she thought. "But this is no longer doing something privately, wouldn't you agree?" She didn't know what to say. No one had ever found the random pictures and videos of her that had made their way to the Internet, so she had thought she was safe in the vast sea of Internet porn. She suddenly felt sick.

"What do you think our clients would think of this, Ms White? I'm afraid such an ... exhibition ... reflects poorly on this firm." His words sank in, and she blanched at his implication. She didn't want to get fired. But a part of her thought, defiantly, "Some of your clients might think it was pretty fucking hot."

"It was just a bit of fun," she said. "I'll take it down. I promise."

He nodded. "That would be a good idea," he said. "But how long will these live in caches and archives?" he said. She honestly didn't know.

He turned the screen back toward him. He looked it over for a silent, awkward moment.

"I called you here about the Fleming account," he said. She blinked in surprise at his abrupt shift. She had forgotten that.

"Mr. Fleming is coming into town, and we are trying to get his business. I'd like to suggest that you help me entertain him while he's in town. Show him the sights." He pointedly looked at the 36C breasts under her blouse. "Do I make myself clear?"

She nodded, slowly. "You want me to have sex with him." She'd happily choose that over being fired, she thought. She'd happily choose that over lots of things, in fact.

"No, Ms White, I want you to fuck him." His sudden coarseness caught her by surprise. "I want you to fuck him like a whore. I want you to indulge his every whim and his every kink." He looked back at his screen. "I don't believe that will be a problem, will it?"

No. No it wouldn't. She loved sex. But his tone made her flush. She shook her head and bit her lower lip.

"Excellent," he said. "I know the other company he's considering routinely sends prostitutes to his hotel room, so I'll be happy to spare the expense." She flushed again.

"If I hear even a peep of dissatisfaction, I will fire you," he said. She looked at him, lifted her chin, and nodded.

"I understand, sir."

"Do you? Because I am putting a lot of faith in your," he paused and looked at the screen again, "your abilities. Your acting abilities in particular."

She lifted an eyebrow. "I'm not sure I understand that, sir."

Mr. Lembach sighed. "Our Mr. Fleming considers himself a bit of a seducer of innocents," he said. "Looking at these pictures, I'm not sure you could convince him that you're anything other than the slut and harlot I see." She felt her jaw tighten.

"Insulting me isn't necessary, Mr. Lembach." He raised his eyebrows at her defiance.

"Do you consider it to be an insult? Or a statement of fact?"

"I'm not ashamed of my sexuality," she said. Fuck this, she thought. "But you clearly intended the terms to be insults."

"See, this is what I'm worried about," he said. "You need to convince him that you're, if not innocent, at least not willing to jump in the sack at a moment's notice."

She narrowed her eyes. "I'm very good at roleplay," she said. Now it was his turn to flush. She'd have sex with Fleming, but she could hold her own with assholes. A part of her realized she might be sacrificing her job, but she figured she had at least until the day after tomorrow, given what Lembach was suggesting.

He recovered quickly. "I'll be the judge of that," he said. "Stand up."

She was confused by the request, but did as he said. He paused and simply looked her up and down. She could figure out where this was going.

"Take off your skirt," he said. Big shock. She sighed and unzipped the skirt, letting it fall to the ground. He flat-out stared. Her website had actually done fairly well, traffic-wise. She was wearing a simple black g-string, stockings, and high heels.

He cleared his throat. "Two things, Ms White," he said. "I hope you have underwear that is less outright slutty but still enticing."

She put her hands on her hips. "I have more lingerie than you can probably imagine, Mr. Lembach," she said. He gulped.

"Second, you did that with no resistance whatsoever. Are you actually any good at roleplay? Pull up your skirt and let's try again. You're supposed to be timid, remember." She was surprised at the request. She admired Mr. Lembach's restraint. She had expected to be bent over in no time. She reached down and pulled up her skirt.

"Take off your skirt," he said again.

"Mr. Lembach," she gasped, pressing her hand to her chest in fake astonishment. "How dare you! I will do no such thing." He smiled.

"Ms White, let me remind you that your job is in the balance here. Take off your skirt."

"Mr. Lembach, that's harassment. I'm not that kind of girl."

They went through a few more rounds of this before he said, "Very well. No need for roleplay now; take off the skirt." The restraint was only temporary, she guessed.

They did a bit more back-and-forth, and then her blouse was on the floor. She was wearing a black lace bra. You could see her nipples clearly through the front.

"Do you always wear such lovely undergarments?" he asked. The lust on his face was easy to read.

"Yes, sir," she said.

"You'd never guess it from your business attire. I might have to start clearing some space on my calendar for more demonstrations," he said.

A bit more roleplay, and the bra was off. Then the g-string. She stood naked in front of him, wearing stockings and her high heels.

"Your pictures do not do you justice, Ms White," he said. "You have an exquisite body." Yes, she thought, I do.

"Thank you, sir," she said.

"You know," he said after a pause, "since we're discussing your job security, my wife is often traveling." He paused. "Typically, Ms Harkness has volunteered to, shall we say, help out around the house in her absence." Oh, so that's why Stephanie had given her an icy glare. She either knew what he had planned, or she had guessed. So she was fucking the boss.

"But perhaps she could use a break," he said. Fucking the senior partner was bound to be good for her position, and she was willing to bet she was open to vastly more things than Stephanie. She had spent the summer being a fucktoy for two young studs and their friends, after all, and they had gotten very creative. She figured out how to up the ante for Stephanie without even trying.

"Forgive me for saying so, sir," she said, "but I imagine your house is big enough to benefit from two sets of helping hands." There was no mistaking that.

He pursed his lips. "Perhaps," he said. "I'm sure I could convince Ms Harkness to delegate some duties." Yeah, thought Gloria, let's see how well she does with that.

He looked her up and down again. "Okay," he said, "you've convinced me you can play the part. But now you need to convince me that you're as good a lay as your pictures suggest." He looked at his screen again and smiled. "You'll be happy to know I've made sure we still have an hour left." She smiled.

"Get on your hands and knees and crawl over here," he said, unzipping his suit's trousers.

* * *

The next evening, she was waiting in the building's downstairs lobby as Mr. Lembach had suggested. She was wearing a conservative tan skirt and a white blouse. Her hair was pinned up, and she was wearing the fake glasses she used to wear when she and her ex-husband played "naughty librarian." An hour and a half earlier, Mr. Lembach had approved her underwear choice, snug white panties with a black-edged ruffle and black polka dots with a matching bra. Then he had bent her over his desk, pulled the panties aside, and fucked her, cumming deep inside her. "Consider it my show of respect for Mr. Fleming," he had said with a grin.

The elevator doors opened, and out stepped Mr. Lembach and James Fleming.

Well, this was going to be very pleasant. James Fleming was tall, middle-aged, fit, and handsome as could be. Why yes, she would like to get him in bed, thank you very much. The two men walked over to her.

"James, I hope you don't mind," said Mr. Lembach, "but I've invited one of our admins to join us in case I need someone to take notes."

James Fleming gave her a beaming smile with just a flick of his eyes over her body. He thrust out his hand and she shook it. "Of course, Walter," he said. "Lovely women are always welcome." She did her best to give a nervous smile and looked away. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Fleming," she said.

Within fifteen minutes, they were all seated at a nearby restaurant with cocktails in hand. The two men exchanged small talk and began to chat about business. She imagined James Fleming naked. What kind of cock did he have? She hoped it was a good one.

The conversation became more casual over dinner, and she allowed herself to get a bit tipsy from the alcohol.

An hour into dinner, Mr. Lembach's phone rang. He had told her about this plan. He took the call and made concerned noises, ending with, "I'll be there as soon as I can." He hung up.

"I'm very sorry to say this," he said, "but something crucial has come up that needs my attention." She and Mr. Fleming started to stand up, and he waved them down. "No, no. Please. Continue to enjoy your meal; the bill's all taken care of, so take your time." He hurried out, still talking on his phone.

They had been pretty far into the meal, so the only thing left was to order dessert. They chit-chatted about random things. He was definitely into her, she thought, but she needed to make sure this worked out. It wasn't even about the job; she just wanted to get laid. She was enjoying the slight buzz of being tipsy in the company of a handsome man who was going to fuck her before the night was out.

"Where are you staying," she asked.

"The Marriott," he said. No surprise; it was one of the most luxe hotels in the city.

"Oooh," she said. "I've heard great things about that hotel. I stopped in at the lobby once, but nothing more than that."

There was a pause, and then he took the bait.

"I have a suite; I could show you if you want."

It was all she could manage to not drop into sultry banter.

"Oh my gosh, would you? I mean, if it's not too big of a hassle?"

"No hassle at all," he said with a grin she could read from a mile away. "What's the good of having the most expensive room in the hotel if you can't show it off?"

Oh, he was one of those, she thought. Well, let him have his fun. She could play along easily enough.

"The most expensive? Wow, I can't even imagine. It must be so incredible."

"Well, you won't have to imagine it; you can see it soon enough."

Within about fifteen minutes, the plates had been cleared. He stood up and pulled her chair back.

"Oh, you're such a gentleman," she said. Was that the kind of thing innocent women said?

He held the door of the cab they hailed outside the restaurant. She did her best to giggle and say, "Thank you, kind sir." She had decided that exaggerating her drunkenness would be enticing. Lowered inhibitions and all that. As he walked around the back of the cab, she hiked up her skirt a bit and fluffed out her blouse. As he got in beside her, she lay her head back and closed her eyes. He told the driver the destination, and the cab pulled into traffic. It would take about twenty minutes to get there, she knew.

"Oooh, I'm feeling a bit woozy," she said. She kept her eyes closed. Soon she felt a smooth, strong hand on her left knee. She didn't say anything, and soon it began to slide up a bit. Yes, she thought. Shove your hand between my legs, rip off my panties, and fuck me here in the cab. Patience, she thought. The hand began to rub a bit.

"Mmm," she said, still with eyes closed, and slightly parted her legs. Not enough to be obvious, but enough to give him more leeway.

She heard him readjusting, and she felt his warm breath near her cheek.

"You're a very beautiful woman, Gloria," she said. She fluttered her eyes a bit, still pretending to be a bit drunk.

"Oh, Mr. Fleming, you're too funny." The hand slid up her leg a little bit more.

Suddenly she felt him move again, and his lips pressed against hers. What she wanted to do was pull him in. Instead, she flung open her eyes and gently pushed at him.

"Mr. Fleming!" she said in faux shock. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Oh, I think it's a good idea," he said.

"That man is watching us," she stage whispered, looking at their driver.

"It's just a kiss, Gloria," he said. His hand continued to stroke her thigh, gradually getting higher and taking a bit of skirt with it each time. She pretended to not notice, but the gentle touch was making her horny as hell. She wanted to tell him to just go for it.

"I don't know," she said. "It feels a little funny."

"Just close your eyes again and pretend you're not in a cab," he said.

She did. "Just one kiss," she said, putting a bit of extra slur into her words.

His lips touched hers again, and she parted them slightly. He took the invitation and slid his tongue in. God, she wanted to get fucked. Instead of taking off her blouse right there in the back seat of the cab, she adjusted herself slightly, managing to spread her legs a bit more while causing her skirt to lift a bit more. His hand slid up a bit more, too.

They made out until the cab stopped at the Marriott. By then, his hand was just a couple of inches from her pussy, and she was hot and horny.

When they got out, she straightened herself out and stood up, pretending to sway a bit.

"I don't know what came over me," she said to him. "I think maybe I had a bit too much to drink. I'm sorry."

"There's nothing to be sorry about," he said with a smile. "Getting a bit tipsy is good once in a while." He was openly leering at her by now, but she pretended not to notice. Instead, he took her arm and they walked into the hotel. She pretended to stumble once for effect.

When they arrived at his suite, she gasped. She thought it might literally be bigger than her house. And there was a fantastic view of the city through the massive windows that formed two whole sides of the unit. The entire night skyline was all around her.

"It's great, isn't it?" he said as he stood next to her. She nodded.

"Can I get you a drink?" he asked.

"Oh, I think I've had plenty already," she slurred. Then she pretended to giggle again. "Oh my gosh, Mr. Fleming. You must think I'm an idiot. I don't normally drink this much; I just got carried away." She hoped she was still convincing. What she wanted was to strip naked right now and get down on her knees so she could suck his dick.

"Don't worry about it, Gloria," he said, smiling some more. "But you know the way to prevent a hangover, don't you?" Yes, of course: Drink lots of water. But she shook her head.

"Scotch," he said, moving to the bar in the room. "Scotch cancels out the other alcohol." Really? This was an actual line he used?

"Really?" she said. "I've never heard that before." He poured her an ample glass and handed it to her. She took a sip and pretended to pull a face. It was actually quite good.

"Oof," she said, "that's strong stuff. Does this really help hangovers?"

"Yes, ma'am," he said, "but you've got to get a good amount in your system." She took a larger sip and he smiled with undisguised lust. She actually was beginning to be a bit drunk. She needed to keep focused on her roleplaying, she thought.

She went back over to the massive windows as he poured himself a drink and settled on the couch.

"It's really such a perfect view," she said.

"I actually find it lacking," he said. She turned, and felt her head spin a bit as she did. What the hell. She took another sip of Scotch.

"Lacking? What else could it have?" She didn't need to fake the slurring now.

"I think it would be perfect with a beautiful, naked woman in front of it." He waggled his eyebrows. She held back a laugh at the silliness of his expression. Things were definitely spinning a bit.