textfiles/sex/EROTICA/P/parker11.txt

    Hello,

    this post is part of the PARKER series of stories, reposted as
requested by The_Spectre. I didn't write any of these, PARKER did.
Please do not send email requesting reposts and/or that parts be sent via
email to you. If you want it, save it now.

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                    CAREER OPPORTUNITIES 1/4
                            By Parker

     WARNING: There's not a lot of sex in this one. Mostly just
     the setup, really. Still, if you stick with it, there's
     bound to be some of that sort of stuff in the future.

Copyright 1994 by me (Parker). Feel free to distribute
(unaltered) as you will, but be discrete.
=================================================================

     "What a bimbo!"
     The small circle of people suddenly fell silent as everyone
looked away, embarrassed. The speaker, Barbara Dahlton, smirked
knowingly at this reaction. Predictable. She brushed back her
thick brown hair and pretended not to notice when one of her co-
workers made a tentative effort to change the topic. It was
typical, really. People thought that just because she was a woman
she was supposed to be supportive of the other female employees
as the company.
     Fat chance.
     The subject of conversation - and hence Barbara's
unflattering attention - had been the company's newest employee,
Carol Louise Fawkner. At only twenty-two, she was by far the
youngest executive in the office, male or female. This was an
extremely impressive accomplishment, but not one which was
totally unexpected for someone who had done as well as she had in
university: top marks in her MBA at Harvard Business School as
well as the two-time recipient the state of California's 'Young
Entrepreneur' award (personally handed out by J Danforth
Quayle!). Ben Keating, the senior VP in charge of recruitment had
gone on at some length about how lucky the company had been to
get her. Carol could have worked for some of the big boys in New
York, but had instead chosen a medium sized firm in LA.
     Barbara, on the other hand, had attributed Carol's
educational success more to the girl's stunning good looks than
any alleged intellectual capacity. Barbara had lately wondered
aloud - on more than one occasion - how many professors the girl
had fucked for her grades.  There was no doubt about it: Carol
was an extraordinarily beautiful young woman. She stood only
about 5'3", but was perfectly proportioned: slender, with long
legs, a narrow waist and small, firm breasts. Her face was
delicately formed, with high cheekbones and large, green eyes
that shone out beneath a tousle of curly blonde hair.
     Unfortunately for her career ambitions, her appearance was
that of a much younger girl, making it very difficult for her to
command the respect she needed to do her job properly and
effectively. When this was added to the fact that she was by
nature quite shy (blushing easily), it explained why she had not
been anywhere near as effective in the firm as Keating had
originally hoped and expected. As well, she was having the
difficulties all new graduates had in applying their academic
knowledge to practical work situations.
     Another, and by no means insignificant, difficulty Carol was
experiencing at work was directly attributable to Barbara. As the
senior female executive in the company, Barbara had felt
threatened by this young 'star'. As well as fearing the younger
girl's ability, Barbara secretly resented her beauty. It was not
that Barbara was unattractive - she was well formed, with a
slender waist, large breasts and a handsome-if-not-
conventionally-beautiful face framed by thick, brown hair. In
fact, Barbara would have been beautiful if she had not spent her
career disguising this particular attribute. She was not,
however, even remotely in the same league as Carol Louise
Fawkner.
     Very few women were.
     Hence, she went out of her way to make things as difficult
as possible for the new employee. She did nothing too overt, of
course, but instead worked behind the scenes to undermine Carol's
authority and make it more difficult for the young girl to
function. And her efforts had paid off. Normally, Barbara was
relatively circumspect about her feelings, taking great pains to
ensure that no one was aware of her actions. Tonight, however, at
the office Christmas party, Barbara was feeling pretty confident.
She had it on good authority that Carol's one year contract would
not be renewed, and the girl would be let go at the next review
just over four months hence. She knew that she had done a good
job of making certain that no one at the office took the girl
seriously, and no longer cared who knew about it. In short, she
was a little drunk, and wanted to have some fun.
     At the younger girl's expense.
     Of course.

     Carol, feeling uncomfortable and out of place as she always
did at such functions, nervously approached the group of people
standing around the bar. Gerry was there; so was Mark Prentiss
and Brad Tymmens. And Barbara Dahlton. Ordinarily, Carol would
have been too shy to impose herself on the group, but she felt a
little more confident with Barbara there. Carol was shy, but she
wasn't stupid; she was well aware of her beauty and the effect it
had on men. On the whole, she would have preferred not to appear
as she did, but there was no helping that. All attempts to hide
or disguise her beauty - severe hairstyles, conservative,
unattractive clothing; she had tried it all - were wasted on her.
Her appearance was one of the reasons she was so shy around her
co-workers. She knew she didn't look the part of a business
person, and it was this self-consciousness which weakened her and
made her uncertain of herself.
     It was different when Barbara was there, though. Besides the
presence of another woman in the group, Carol had always found
Barbara to be personally supportive and encouraging. The older
woman - only mid-thirties, really - was always willing to listen
to Carol's ideas, even when Carol was too unsure of herself to
put them forward herself. Of all the people in the office,
Barbara was the one she felt the most comfortable with.
     Of course, the fact that Brad Tymmens, with his dark hair
and blue eyes was there as well didn't hurt...
     "Hi."
     This tentative greeting was met with a round of absolute
silence, as the members of the group shifted uncomfortably. Brad
looked down at his feet, waiting for the inevitable. Carol seemed
like a nice girl and he liked her a lot, but it was undeniable
that she wasn't working out at the office. He didn't necessarily
like Barbara all that much, but she did hold a position of power
in the company; given Carol's precarious position, it would be
foolish to take her side against anything Barbara might have to
say.
     And it seemed that Barbara had some things to say.
     "Hello Carol," she chimed, mock friendly. "So glad you could
join us."
     "Thanks."
     Brad choked back a cough. The poor girl sounded relieved.
     Stupid.
     "In fact," Barbara continued, "we were just talking about
you. About your handling of the Hessen-Gerber sale." That
particular file had ended in disaster due to Carol's inexperience
and lack of confidence. What should have been a profitable sales
transaction with a German company had ended in threatened
litigation and, finally, termination of an interim agreement.
Everyone knew that it was Carol's fault.
     Even Carol.
     The poor girl flushed. It made her look years younger; and
not, Brad couldn't help but notice, all the more attractive. "W-
what do you mean?" she stammered. "I've talked to..."
     "Well." Barbara was sneering openly now. "We were all just
curious as to how you managed to miss the completion date for the
cost proposals."
     "I..."
     "I mean," Barbara interrupted, "it couldn't have been easy.
We even negotiated two extensions for you."
     "Barbara. Why are..."
     "The germans were most impressed."
     Carol looked as though she were about to start crying at any
moment. The others in the group started down at their feet, up at
the ceiling, across the room... anywhere other than at the
bloodletting that was occurring in front of them. Brad felt
terrible about it, but nonetheless suddenly found the ice cubes
in his drink extremely fascinating.
     "At least we didn't get sued this time," Barbara went on
relentlessly. "Not like the Yakamoto Contract." Another disaster
file which Carol had worked on. "Or our supply contract with
Point Hope. You've almost got a perfect record, honey."
     Carol just stared, well beyond the point of objecting or
protesting. She was well aware of the fact that her career with
the company had gotten off to a rough start, but she was working
hard to improve. Up to now, she had thought that Barbara had been
one of her supporters...
     "Well, don't worry about too much," Barbara told her.
"Things aren't working out where you are, but I'm sure we'll find
something else for you soon. Something more suitable." The
brunette paused a moment, looking sideways at her co-workers.
Sharing the joke. "I understand there's some openings coming up
in the typing pool," she said. "They're always looking for one or
two more blonde bimbos to take dictation and do... 'other' jobs."
     This was too much for Carol. Choking back a sob, she turned
and moved away, practically running in hasty retreat. Barbara
sneered as her victim fled.
     "Bimbo," she muttered.
     Beside her, Brad gritted his teeth in anger and frustration.
He wasn't sure who he hated most: Barbara for her treatment of
the younger employee, or himself for not trying to stop it.

                              *****

     "I can't believe what a bitch she was."
     "I believe it."
     The car moved slowly over the rain-soaked streets. Brad
Tymmens stared moodily out the window at the ink-black scenery as
Rodney Parsons steered the car. Rodney was also an employee of
the company, in charge of the IT department. They were on their
way home from the office Christmas party.
     "She treated that poor girl so badly," Brad continued,
drumming his fingers angrily on the dashboard. "I should have
told her to shut the fuck up."
     "And lost your job," Rodney commented.
     Brad grunted in agreement. The strict new policies at work
regarding any sort of harassment of the female employees would no
doubt have classified any such outburst on the part of a male
employee as sexual discrimination and would have resulted in Brad
losing his job. In fact, Barbara had already used such tactics a
couple of times to remove male co-workers who opposed her. Only a
woman would have gotten away with treating Carol the way she had
been treated at the party.
     And, it seemed, a woman had done just that.
     "Bullshit," Brad muttered.
     "Hey," Rodney answered him, "I don't like it any more than
you do. But what can we do about it? That Barbara's a first class
cunt, but she's going places in the firm. Rumour has is she's up
for sales VP in a few months. And Carol... well, she's just not
working out." He shook his head, ever practical. "There's no
point in losing your job over that."
     Brad couldn't disagree. But... "I just wish that there was
some way we could pay her back without getting into trouble."
     "What do you mean?"
     "Some way to make her look like an idiot," Brad explained,
chewing on his lip in thought. "Some way to..." His face lit up.
"Wait a minute."
     "What?"
     "Remember you were telling me about that drug your wife was
taking for pain."
     Rodney nodded. His wife Tracy had been hit by a car a couple
of months ago, shattering her hip. It was healing, but there was
still a lot of pain. Rather than prescribe usual pain killers,
the doctors had suggested that she use a new drug. This drug, bi-
trexicol, acted like morphine - deadening the pain - but was not
at all addictive. The side effect was that it seemed to slow down
the mental processes of the user, making the user appear rather
slow and stupid. Tracy hadn't like this effect, and preferred to
use other pain killers. There was a container with a number of
bi-trexicol tablets sitting in the medicine cabinet at home.
     "So?"
     "So... why don't we slip a couple to Barbara before the
sales group meeting tomorrow?"
     "What!? Man, that's crazy. We could get in all kinds of
shit."
     "Only if we got caught." Brad was excited now. This was the
perfect way to get back at Barbara. "And it's not dangerous. All
it'll do is make her a bit confused at the meeting and she'll
fuck up her report or something."
     "Well..." Rodney reconsidered. He wouldn't do it himself,
but if Brad were willing to take the chance... Hell, it wouldn't
hurt to see Barbara taken down a peg or two.
     It might even be fun!
     "Alright," he decided. "I'm in."
     It would be a simple matter to pack the drugs in his
briefcase the next morning before leaving for work.

                              *****

     Barbara leaned wearily against the side of her desk and
tried to clear her head. It had been a disaster! She had never
been so humiliated in her life. What should have been a simple
sales report - the kind of thing she had done numerous times
before - had turned into a confused jumble of mistakes,
misunderstandings and confusion on her part. She just couldn't
understand it. Everything had been prepared going in, but once
she started her presentation she had found herself unable to
focus. Words, numbers, concepts... things she knew backwards and
forwards were all of a sudden a complete mystery to her. At first
it seemed to go pretty well, but after a while she began to
stumble over her facts. Robert Baxter, the present VP in charge
of sales - AND THE MAN WHO WOULD PICK HIS SUCCESSOR - had
corrected her, at first gently and unobtrusively, but then with
increasing annoyance and frustration. At last, openly angry, he
had cancelled the presentation and ordered her to report to his
office later that afternoon.
     She had almost been in tears. Even now, over two hours
later, she was unable to think of anything other than the
impending encounter. Barbara checked her watch: almost 4:00 -
time for the meeting. She felt better now than she had during the
presentation - sharper, more focused. Confident of her ability to
deal with the problem. Still, a couple more sips of coffee
wouldn't hurt. She needed to be on her toes if she wanted to save
her promotion. With one swallow, she finished the lukewarm mug of
coffee which had been sitting beside her on the desk.
     Time to go...

                              *****

     Brad glanced up surreptitiously from where he was pretending
to be hunting for a file in one of the hall storage cabinets.
From where he stood, he could just see into Barbara's office
through the partially open door.
     She was drinking another cup of coffee!
     Perfect. It had been the coffee in which he had elected to
dissolve the tablets. Barbara had her own coffee maker in her
office so that she could drink her own premium blend. (Typical!)
Brad had slipped four tablets in during his morning report to her
in her office, and then another four while she was in the big
sales meeting, just in the hope of carrying the mischief a little
farther.
     So far things seemed to be working out perfectly. Neither he
nor Rodney had been present during Barbara's presentation - the
one big drawback to his plan - but from the look on the bitch's
face afterward, things had apparently worked out pretty much as
planned. Barbara - looking like she was about to throw up - had
marched directly to her office and slammed shut the door. Over
the next few hours, word of her pathetic performance had
peculated through the office with the speed of juicy gossip.
Barbara had only emerged from her office a couple of times to
deal with matters that couldn't be put off, but had basically
spent the afternoon by herself.
     By now, of course, the entire firm knew of her impending
confrontation with Robert Baxter. The meeting was to take place
in his office, which, in Brad's opinion, was absolutely perfect.
Better than they had any right to expect, Rodney had agreed,
before driving home to pick up his video camera.
     The video camera.
     The inside of Baxter's office could be viewed from behind a
one-way mirror in an adjoining storage closet. The entrance to
the closet was in Baxter's receptionist's office. She was often
asked by Baxter to observe sensitive meeting from the closet in
order to be in a position to verify his version of events should
matters go awry and litigation ensue, a stratagem which had come
in handy more than once. The receptionist - Phyllis Morden - was
an extremely conscientious woman, who took her responsibilities
very seriously. She would never allow anyone into the locked
storage closet without the knowledge and permission of her boss.
     Phyllis Morden also hated Barbara Dahlton with a passion.
     This hatred was understandable. Barbara's contempt for the
female support staff had not endeared her to many, and Phyllis
Morden - who was facing the unpalatable prospect of choosing
between losing her job or working for Barbara after Baxter left -
nurtured a special loathing her. To make matters worse, Barbara
had shown little restraint in making fun of Phyllis's weight
problem (the office "Roseanne", Barbara had called her).
     The final straw was that Phyllis was gay, and had experience
something of a crush on Barbara when she had first started
working at the Company.
     In the end, it had been a simple matter to convince Phyllis
that witnessing Barbara being chewed out was more important than
some minor rule regarding access to closets. Besides, it was
pointed out, Baxter only had another few months to go before
retirement; loyalty to a man in such a position seemed a bit
unnecessary, if not outright foolish.
     And that was why, at precisely 4:00 that afternoon, Brad
Tymmens, Rodney Parsons with his video camera and Phyllis Morden
were watching intently as Barbara entered the office of Robert
Baxter, VP in charge of sales.

                              *****

     Barbara walked slowly through the door into Baxter's office.
His bitch of secretary hadn't been at her desk, so she had been
forced to announce herself on the office intercom. The speaker's
tinny reproduction of Baxter's expressionless "come in" had
somehow made the encounter all the more frightening to her. By
the time she pushed open the door, her hands were shaking and her
stomach was tied in knots. Worst of all, she had started feeling
the same dazed and confused feeling that had come over her in the
meeting.
     Drawing a deep breath, she entered the office and closed the
door behind her. (No point in giving anyone the opportunity of
listening in!) Time to get this over with.

     "There she is!"
     "Shh..." Brad elbowed Rodney in the side, concerned that his
loud friend would give them away.
     "Don't worry about it," Phyllis told him, her voice at a
conversational level. "Baxter had this room pretty much
soundproofed. There are microphones picking up what goes on
inside the office, but nothing short of screaming will be heard
on the other side."
     Relieved, Brad turned back to the window.

     Robert Baxter sat upright behind his desk, looking solemn
and forbidding. News of his retirement had sent a flurry of
speculation through the office, with the eventual consensus being
that he was being put aside as too conservative for modern
business practices. Too rigid; too hold fashioned. He certainly
looked the party. At fifty-seven, Robert Baxter had the
appearance of a man ten years his junior, with a stern, almost
military posture, intense blue eyes and deep tan. Only his thin,
yellow-grey hair gave any indication of his true age. Indeed, he
would have been an attractive man, had it not been for a large,
purple birthmark that covered half his face and a set of
blackened teeth where gum disease and decay had taken their toll.
Not only did this latter feature give his smile a lopsided
rotting appearance, but the resulting halitosis - the younger
employees called him 'dragon-breath' behind his back; the more
experienced ones just didn't talk about him - made any sort of
close up conversation with him a test of endurance. Rumour had it
he left his teeth that way to give him an edge in negotiations.
     Whatever the truth of it was, he was out. In three months.
As a concession to his experience and position in the company,
however, he had been given the power to choose his successor.
Barbara had been the heir-apparent.
     Until now.

     "Ms Dahlton," he droned in his gravely, monotone voice after
Barbara had taken the seat in front of him, "I want you to know
that I was very disappointed in your performance in the meeting
today."
     Barbara stiffened.
     "You were obviously unprepared for the presentation. You
were an embarrassment to me and to the company. A student - even
Carol Fawkner - could have done a better job."
     Barbara felt her face go red. Sure, she had been a little
slow, but...
     "As you know, I will be leaving the company in a few months,
and I have until now taken the position that you were the best
person to take over my job." He looked her straight in the eye
with his basilisk gaze. "Now," he continued, "I'm beginning to
have doubts."
     "Sir... Mr Baxter..." Barbara struggled to find something to
say in her own defence, but the same murky, confused feeling that
had sabotaged her performance in the meeting earlier that day had
once again enveloped her. Her tongue felt thick and swollen, and
her mind struggled in vain to grasp what was going on.
     "Now," he continued, looking pained and disappointed as she
stammered ineffectually, "I am going to take you over these
figures you failed to explain this morning, and we are going to
make certain that you do know something about your job." He
leaned forward as he spoke the last few words. The smell of his
breath washed over Barbara like a fetid tide. "Is that
understood?"
     Barbara, trying desperately to breath only out of her mouth,
could only nod her head in agreement.

     Phyllis chuckled nastily. This was better than she had
expected. Worth getting fired for. The fat redhead fully expected
to lose her job in three months time; either Barbara would fire
her when she took over Baxter's position, or she would quit,
unable to work for such a bitch. This bit of advance payback was
going down very well.

     Try as she might, Barbara found herself unable to comprehend
the facts and figures on the paper in front of her. Damn it...
she KNEW this stuff. Inside and out. She'd known it for years.
But, no matter how hard she tried, she found herself completely
incapable of discussing it with Baxter - the man whose decision
it was who would become the next VP in charge of sales. Baxter
had opened up the report and was taking her through it step by
step, pointing out each section and asking her to explain what it
meant and how it related to the overall sales figures and
marketing strategy. And, each time, no matter how simple it was,
Barbara stumbled over her explanation, giving the impression that
she knew nothing about the report. It quickly became apparent to
her that not only was her future promotion going down the tube,
but so was her present job.
     Upset by yet another failure to explain a figure, she looked
over at her boss. As he had done a number of times already, he
had stopped talking and was looking over at her. She looked back,
but he wouldn't meet her gaze. 'Pity,' she thought, 'he just
feels sorry for...'
     But that wasn't it.
     His gaze had dropped down from her face to... to her chest.
Surreptitiously, Barbara glanced downward. There it was... as she
had leaned over the desk to look at the report, the top button of
her blouse had come undone, partially exposing the upper swell of
her breasts.
     Baxter was staring at her breasts!
     Just as she reached this realization, Baxter tore his gaze
away from her and began talking again about the report. Barbara,
however, had stopped listening. He had been staring at her
breasts! A tiny spark of an idea - faint and tentative -
flickered across her mind, quickly fanning itself into a full
blown thought. Baxter had been staring at her breasts! Maybe...
just maybe she could save her job and her promotion. Trying not
to be obvious, Barbara brought her hand up and slipped loose
another button. After stretching her shoulders slightly to expose
as much breast as possible, she leaned forward to give him the
best possible view.
     Maybe... just maybe she could come out of this with her job
and promotion intact.

     "What's she doing?"
     Rodney looked puzzled.
     "I don't know," Brad answered excitedly, "but whatever you
do, keep filming!"
     Rodney, whose view of the scene in Baxter's office was
framed by the four sides of the viewfinder on his video camera,
nodded in silent agreement.

     Baxter had stopped talking again.
     It was working!
     He was staring over at her chest again. Not knowing whether
to laugh or cry at her success, Barbara lightly placed her hand
on top of his where he was holding the report. Was it too much?
Too soon? Barbara could only hope that she was playing things
correctly. She'd had little experience in this or any other sort
of seduction.
     "Ms Dahlton... Barbara..." For the first time, Baxter
actually seemed a little unsure of himself. A little
uncomfortable.
     "Yes?" Barbara smiled across the table at him, trying her
best to look sexy. She knew that she was attractive - or could be
with a little effort - but she had spent years playing down her
physical appearance. She had learned early on in her career that
men didn't respect attractive women; at least, not in the way she
wanted to be respected. It was not easy now to try to overcome
all that effort, but she was willing to try in order to save her
promotion.
     And her job.
     "Barbara," he stammered, "I... this report..."
     "Maybe," she told him, fighting to enunciate clearly through
the fog that still enveloped her consciousness, "if you were to
come around her and explain it to me?" Her voice sounded low and
unnatural to her; how she imagined a voice might sound if it were
sexy; inviting.
     It seemed to do the trick. Moving quickly, Baxter stood up
and came around to her side of the desk. He leaned over her chair
and pulled the report across the desk so that it was right in
front of them.
     His hands were trembling.
     "Now," he continued, trying to remain businesslike, "the
market figures..."
     Barbara tuned out his voice as she considered her position.
Could she really go through with this? With that breath? If she
didn't, she could kiss the promotion goodbye and probably her job
as well. But if she did... well, maybe it wouldn't be so bad. A
few kisses... maybe even sleep with him once or twice... He'd be
gone in a few months, and, once she was safely in position as VP,
she could get rid of him easily enough.
     Maybe...
     "And when the numbers are applied to future..." The droning
stopped when she once again placed her hand on top of his.
     "Barbara..."
     Slowly, insistently, she pulled his hand off the report and
guided it over to her breasts. He didn't help, but allowed her to
slip his hand down the top of her blouse and over one of her
breasts. She could feel the pulse in his wrist speed up as he -
at last on his own initiative - squeezed her breast. She started
to squirm away in discomfort, but quickly remembered what she was
doing; and what she was trying to do.
     Breathing heavily, Barbara leaned back in her chair and
moaned in simulated passion as Baxter slipped his other gnarled
hand down the top of her blouse and began fondling both of her
breasts.

     "I don't believe this."
     The three observers stared, open mouthed with wonder, as
Barbara writhed on the chair while Baxter popped open the front
of her blouse, exposing her large, firm breasts beneath the thick
cover of the utilitarian bra. The covering too was soon removed,
as Baxter reached down behind Barbara and jerked it open.
       "Nice tits," Rodney commented, as Baxter's hungry hands
cupped and kneaded them. Phyllis nodded in agreement.
     This activity went on for a few more moments before Baxter
came around beside the chair, leaned down and brought his mouth
onto Barbara's face.
     "My god," Phyllis muttered. She had spent years dealing with
Baxter's halitosis. "How can she..."

     Barbara almost gagged with revulsion at his fetid breath,
but nevertheless opened her own mouth to welcome his tongue. More
than that, she actively kissed back, thrusting her tongue back at
his, as he once again began to manipulate her breasts. It didn't
hurt, really, but it was very uncomfortable. And humiliating.
Nevertheless, job and promotion firmly in the front of her mind,
Barbara moaned and grunted on the chair, just as she imagined she
would sound if she were actually enjoying the activity.
     This kissing and fondling went on for a while. Finally, it
dawned on Barbara that she was to make the next move. Baxter was
waiting for her. Panting with revulsion at the smell of his
breath, she reached over with one shaking hand and began undoing
his pants. That was what he had been waiting for. He dropped her
breast - red and shiny from where he had been biting and licking
- and helped her undo his pants. Within seconds, his cock  -
thick and covered with large purple veins - sprang free. Barbara
immediately felt a kind of horrid fascination with this ugly
thing as he guided her hand onto it. Tentatively, she grasped it
as he wished and began running her hand along it, up and down...
up and down. Almost immediately, a glistening of pre-cum
appeared.
     Barbara moaned, this time with real fear, as he pulled her
off the chair and down to her knees in front of him: eye to eye
with his cock. She knew what he wanted though, and she had
already gone too far to back out now. Not if she wanted her job.
And besides, she thought, slipping her mouth over Baxter's cock
and sucking it in, his cock doesn't stink like his breath.
          "Quite the little slut when her job's on the line," Phyllis
commented, looking hungrily as Barbara sucked and slurped
hungrily at Baxter's cock. The sounds were clearly audible
through the microphones in the office.
     "Oh no," Rodney laughed, still filming. "I'm sure it's love.
Look at her go!" Phyllis smirked at this sarcasm.
     Brad remained silent, his cock swollen in his pants. He was
thinking of Carol; she should be here, seeing this...

     Finally, Baxter reached his limit.
     Roughly, he pulled Barbara's mouth off his cock, causing a
long, glistening trail of spit and pre-cum to trail from her lips
to the tip of his cock. He lifted her, and placed her down on the
edge of his desk.
     "Spread your legs," he mumbled, voice thick with lust.
     "Oh... yes."
     Barbara, frightened but determined to carry on to save her
job, complied. She quickly slipped off her panties, pulled up her
gray, business-skirt and leaned back across the desk, legs spread
in obvious invitation and tits hanging free.
     "Fuck me," she moaned.
     Baxter needed no further encouragement. He leaned forward
between her legs and drove his cock into her exposed pussy,
burying it to the hilt with one powerful thrust. Barbara squealed
with pain as the cock was driven into her still-dry pussy, but
immediately turned it into a grunt of passion.
     The job!
     "Oh yes... yes... yes..." She moaned and bucked beneath her
boss as he brutally fucked her on his desk, doing her best to
give the impression of a woman overcome by lust as he sawed his
cock in and out of her pussy. This, despite the fact that every
thrust sent waves of pain through her raw pussy.
     Fortunately, Baxter didn't last long. Within thirty seconds,
he stiffened and grunted. Barbara, thankful that he was coming so
quickly, wrapped her legs around behind him and began squealing
loudly, as if she too were coming. The two of this held this
position - him grunting and her squealing - for a good ten
seconds before he suddenly relaxed, releasing his weight on top
of her, passion spent.
     Barbara too allowed herself to relax. It was over.
     And maybe... just maybe, she told herself as she felt the
first trickle of sperm dribble out of her pussy and down her ass
crack, I've saved my job.

                          END PART ONE
=================================================================
As usual, all comments are appreciated.
-snip--------------------------------------------------------------------

Cheers,
-- 
Thomas Baetzler, bath0011@fh-karlsruhe.de, thb@spectre.ka.sub.org

Hain't we got all the fools in town on our side?  And hain't that a big
enough majority in any town?         --- Mark Twain, "Huckleberry Finn"

From s_racer@primenet.com Thu 01 Jun 95 04:30:42
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
From: "Thomas Baetzler" <thb@spectre.ka.sub.org>
Date: Thu, 01 Jun 1995 01:03:03 +0100
Reply-To: "Thomas Baetzler" <bath0011@fh-karlsruhe.de>
Subject: Repost: PARKER #11: Carreer Opportunities 2/4 (mf, nc)
Message-ID: <2272396@spectre.ka.sub.org>

    Hello,

    this post is part of the PARKER series of stories, reposted as
requested by The_Spectre. I didn't write any of these, PARKER did.
Please do not send email requesting reposts and/or that parts be sent via
email to you. If you want it, save it now.

    MINI-FAQ:

    - Please post stories only to this group. If you are fed up with other
people posting crap here, consider sending them a friendly, short message
telling them that they are breaching the charter of this group, and that
they should take their talk to another, more suitable group.

    - Ignore stupid and offensive posts, ala "AOL r00lz/sucks", "<het|gay>
off this group", etc. pp. Rest assured that other people find this as
offensive as you do - no need to point it out to everybody. Chances are
that it was a troll, anyways.  If you must vent some steam, send email,
post to alt.sex.stories.d, or forward the offending post to the person's
postmaster.

-snip--------------------------------------------------------------------
Newsgroup: alt.sex.stories
Subject: REPOST: PARKER11 (Career Opportunities 2/4)
From: PARKER,an31072@anon.penet.fi
Date: 04 Jul 94  08:41:39
Message-ID: 084319Z04071994@anon.penet.fi

                    CAREER OPPORTUNITIES 2/4
                            By Parker

     WARNING: This story contains some sexual activity which may
     be considered non-consensual. As well, there is a certain
     amount of d/s and blackmail. If you don't want to read this
     sort of thing, stop now. Consider yourself warned.

Copyright 1994 by Parker (me). Feel free to distribute at will
(unaltered of course), but be discrete. OK?
=================================================================

     "This isn't gonna work."
     Rodney was his usual optimistic self.
     "Sure it will." Brad was confident.
     But not that confident.
     "It will, won't it?" He looked over at Phyllis who grinned
and nodded in response.
     "No problem," she told him. "I've been signing old dragon
breath's correspondence for so long now, no one could tell the
difference. Same with Susan." Susan Morrow was Barbara's
secretary, and a close friend of Phyllis. She had her own reasons
to hate her boss. "As far as anyone will be able to tell,"
Phyllis concluded, putting down the piece of paper, "the letters
will be properly signed."
     Rodney still looked doubtful, but he nodded his head. It
would be so much fun if it worked...

                              *****

     Robert Baxter was not generally a happy man.
     His career with the Company had been a long and successful
one, but the end was in sight now, and he had discovered, to his
surprise and trepidation, that he knew nothing else. The Company
was his quite literally his whole life. He had started out as a
young clerk in the mail room and slowly risen through the ranks
until finally reaching his present position. It was quite an
achievement. His success, however, had been achieved without the
benefit of a formal education, and he had risen just about as far
as he could.
     Perhaps, he sometimes thought, too far. Perhaps they wanted
a younger, more educated man in his post at the Company. Maybe
that was why they refused to accept his offer to carry on past
the legal age of retirement.
     Six more months. That was all.
     Bastards.
     Barbara now... maybe she was different. Despite being a
woman - Baxter was old-fashioned enough to consider it
inappropriate for a woman to have a business career - she really
seemed to appreciate his experience and wisdom. She, of all the
bright, young executives who seemed to infest the Company
boardrooms these days, seemed to understand and seek out his
tutelage. It was true, of course, that she'd screwed up royally
at the last sales meeting; she'd messed up a presentation a
rookie could have spewed out with ease. But afterwards...
     Afterwards.
     Baxter was not a popular man with women. He'd been married
once, but that had been so long ago that he had to page through
dusty, yellowing photo albums to recall his wife's face. Since
then, he had lived only for his career, only engaging in sexual
relations to relieve physical needs.
     Hookers, mostly.
     But Barbara... well, she was a beautiful woman. He'd always
found her attractive; indeed, that was one of the main reasons he
had agreed to have her work in his department in the first place.
The respect for her abilities came later. He had never, however,
even for a moment thought that the attraction might be mutual.
After all, he was over thirty years older than her.
     Why would she want him?
     Still, that seemed to be exactly what she did want. He had
felt her eyes on him during the meeting, watching... sizing him
up. Finally, he had been unable to resist it any longer. Perhaps
it was the fact that his career with the Company was pretty much
over that allowed him to break free of his usual reserve and make
the first move. Maybe he just no longer cared about all those new
"sexual harassment" policies. Whatever, it had proved to be the
right thing to do. She'd melted into his arms, and had turned out
to be - as they used to say when he was just a boy - hot as a two
dollar whore.
     It had been an exhilarating experience.
     Still, he had felt more than a little nervous the following
monday at the office. What would she say? How would she act?
Would he find himself charged with sexual harassment? The answer
came to him in the form of a note from Barbara.
     A wonderful note. Hands shaking, he picked it up to read
through it one more
time. His eyes didn't even focus on the actual writing; by now,
he knew every word of it by heart. By heart. Nevertheless, his
eyes scanned the page eagerly...

          'Dearest Robert, last friday was so wonderful I can't
     begin to tell you how I feel. I know that I often put on a
     very hard, reserved front at work, but that is not the real
     me. Underneath, I am a seething volcano of sexual wants and
     needs. You are the only person at the company to have seen
     this in me.  This is embarrassing to say, but after what
     happened in your office, I feel I can tell you anything.
     Please don't stop. I need sex and I need it every day. The
     rougher the better. Don't ask; don't take me out on dates or
     spend money on me; don't accept 'no' for an answer: just
     take me whenever and wherever you want. I find it
     particularly exciting when you talk dirty to me: call me a
     whore or a bitch - the dirtier the better.
          I hope this letter has not scared you off. I don't
     think it will, as you are the first real man I have met at
     the Company.
      Please don't show this letter to anybody.'
          (signed) 'Barbara Dahlton'

     That was her signature all right. He had seen it hundreds of
times before on memos and reports and the like. Even with that,
however, he could scarcely believe what he was reading.
     But believe it he did.
     After folding up the letter and slipping it into his
briefcase, he reached over and punched the transmit button on his
intercom. "Phyllis," he asked, "Please ask Ms Dahlton to see me
in my office right away."
     "Yes sir."
     Impatiently, he leaned back in his chair to wait, one hand
reaching down and absentmindedly stroking his rock hard penis...

                              *****

     Barbara stared down at the piece of paper in her hand,
glaring suspiciously as if it might at any moment turn into some
kind of poisonous viper and inject her with venom. A memo, or,
more accurately, a note. From Baxter.
     The bastard.
     It read:

     'Barbara: You are a great fuck. I've been watching that
     hot body of yours prance around the office for years
     now, and I've dreamed of fucking it in so many ways
     that it'd make your head spin. Until last week, I
     didn't know the you felt the same way about me. You are
     one hot bitch, and now that I know it, we will be
     spending a lot of time together. As well as the
     fucking, I expect that our time together will help you
     prepare for your new position in the company after I am
     gone.
          After reading this note, remove your panties and
     come right to my office.'
     (signed) 'Robert Baxter'

     And there is was: his signature at the bottom. She'd seen it
a thousand times. Bastard probably had his secretary type it up,
she thought. Suddenly enraged, she crumpled the sheet of paper
into a ball and drew her arm back to toss it across the room, but
she held onto it at the last moment. There was no way she was
going to be taking any chances that this particular note would
fall into anyone's hands other than her own. The consequences of
this note being picked up and read by the cleaners... Well, that
wouldn't happen. She carefully folded the note and put it into
her purse.
     The question now was what she was going to do about it.
Looking back on last Friday, she found it difficult to believe
that she had acted as she did in Baxter's office. In fact, the
entire episode had a dream-like quality about it. Or, rather,
nightmare-like.
     What had she been thinking?
     Still, it was done. And now she had to decide how to deal
with the consequences. Barbara hadn't been as successful as she
had in business by avoiding or denying problems. And this, most
certainly, was a problem.
     She considered the situation as clearly as she could. On one
hand, there was the Company's policy regarding sexual harassment.
She had no doubt that should she choose to reveal the note and
make a complaint, Baxter would be "retiring" a little sooner than
planned. There was no evidence of the sexual encounter in his
office, and no one would take his word over her's in that
situation. It was just too unbelievable. That was one possible
course of action.
     On the other hand...
     On the other hand, her mind kept returning to that one
phrase in Baxter's note: '...I expect that our time together will
help you prepare for your new position in the company after I am
gone.' That sounded like a promise; a promise and a threat: do
what I tell you and you will get my position when I retire;
refuse, and you'll remain where you are. If that.
     It didn't take Barbara long to make her decision. Her career
was everything to her, and if that was what it took to rise to
the top... well, so be it. She wouldn't be the first woman who
slept with the boss in order to get a promotion. And she wouldn't
be the last. Besides, if she got friendly with Baxter, it might
help her increase her influence in the Company beyond what it
would already be. A little careful manoeuvring...
     Her mind was made up.
     Barbara stood, and, wriggling her hips a little, slid her
panties down from under her long skirt until they lay on the
floor at her feet. She picked them up and slipped them into her
desk drawer. After taking a moment to straighten her hair, she
walked out of the room and towards the elevator that would take
her to Baxter's office.

                              *****

     She closed the door softly behind her. Once again, his
miserable secretary - Phyllis, the fat cow - hadn't been at her
desk and she had been forced to announce herself. 'Once the
promotion comes through,' she promised herself, 'that bitch is
history.'
     There he was, sitting behind his desk; watching her with
hungry eyes. She had never before thought of Baxter as a sexual
being - god; what woman ever would? - but she felt it now. Sexual
tension. How on earth had he known that she would go along with
his note? Any reasonable, self-respecting woman would have lodged
a complaint within seconds of receiving it. Still... he evidently
knew what he was about: she was here. She gave an inward shudder,
a little frightened at being so easy to read. It was the
ambition, of course. She wanted the promotion and would do just
about anything to get it. She deserved the promotion.
     Just about anything.
     Consciously trying to be sexy, she walked steadily forward,
hips swaying out a time-worn invitation. As she walked, she
slowly ran her pink tongue along the outside of her lips. She
felt more than a little embarrassed, carrying on in this manner,
but it had the desired effect. Baxter's breath quickened as she
moved towards the front of his desk. She didn't have a lot of
experience with this kind of situation - this kind of blatant
seduction - but she found that she was easily able to read the
expression in his face.
     In his eyes.
     Lust.
     He felt his cock harden behind the edge of the desk. He had
never seen Barbara like this before: so sleek; so sexy; so hot.
It was like something straight out of a Penthouse forum or
something, and he just couldn't believe that this was happening
to him. These things weren't real.
     But it was.
     Barbara reached the front of his desk and paused there,
hands on hips. Baxter stared openly, his eyes taking in the taut
bulge of her breasts as they strained against the front of her
blouse - was she pushing her breasts outward?; the soft curves of
her hips and ass under the grey, conservative skirt; and, most of
all, the look of her face. She was not a great beauty, and was
characteristically wearing little or no makeup, but with her lips
slightly parted and the tip of her tongue sliding sensuously
along her lower lip, she looked as hot as any slut. Any whore.
     The note.
     Almost too late he remembered: she wanted to be called
certain things. Certain names. His throat clenched up, parched
with lust and fear, but he choked out the words he thought - he
believed - she wanted to hear: "Whore!"
     Barbara flushed and began to breath a little faster. It was
working! She really did like it! She really did. Feeling a little
flushed himself, he rose quickly from his chair and moved around
the desk.

     She burned with anger and humiliation as Baxter swore at her
a second time - calling her a 'hot bitch' - and then a third.
What the hell did he think he was doing? As if his stinking
breath wasn't bad enough, he treated women like...
     Her train of thought was cut off as he came up behind her
and shoved her against the desk. The breath was knocked out of
her as she involuntarily bent forward, gasping at the sudden
pain.
     "Little slut," Baxter grunted, clutching at her breasts from
behind. "Little whore."
     She started to struggle as he roughly kneaded her aching
breasts through the thin material of her blouse, but then held
back. She had made her decision. She was here for a reason.
Baxter's letter had made clear the consequences of non-compliance
with his wishes. With the note as evidence she could certainly
get her fired, but by the time the shit stopped spraying she
would be out of the promotion. Best to play along; give him what
he wanted.
     For now.
     "Oh yesssss..." she moaned, twisting and writhing under his
grip. "Yesss..."
     "Gonna fuck you bitch." Baxter leaned forward and whispered
this in her ear. She almost gagged as his putrid breath washed
over her face, but still she opened his mouth to accept his
tongue. He kissed her long and hard, raping her with his mouth
while his hands continued to maul her breasts. Moaning and
gargling, she accepted his embrace, kissing back.
     As if she were enjoying it.
          He reached down and hooked his fingers under the waistband
of her skirt. With one tug, Barbara's skirt slid down and fell
into a rough pile around her sleek ankles. He felt around for her
panties, but there were none.
     The bitch didn't wear panties.
     She really was a slut.
     No longer embarrassed or self-conscious, he began to mutter
a steady stream of filth at her, calling her a 'whore' and a
'bitch' and a 'cunt' and every other filthy name he could dredge
up. It was clear that she liked it: her pants and moans got
louder and more frenzied.
     "Ahhh... ahhhh.... ahhhh yes...."
     By now his cock was rigid with lust. Roughly, he kicked her
legs apart and positioned his cock at the entrance of her pussy.
     "What do you want, bitch?" he asked.
     "What do you need?"

     Her resolve weakened and almost shattered, but she held
firm. She had come this far; might as well go all the way. And,
her mind on the job - her reward - she answered in a soft moan:
"Your cock. Please... please fuck me."
     And he did.

     "Well," Rodney muttered, eyes fixed firmly on the scene in
front of him, "I wouldn't have believed it." He, Brad and Phyllis
looked through the one way mirror at the scene which was being
carried out in the office. Barbara, her large breasts hanging
from the ripped-open front of her blouse, was leaning over the
desk, being brutally fucked from behind by Robert Baxter.
     "Ohhh... yes.... yessss...."
     "She must really want that job," Brad commented. Both men's
eyes were glued to the scene in front of them, so neither saw
Phyllis unobtrusively slide a hand down the front of her skirt
and begin rubbing herself.
     In the office, Baxter was approaching his climax, and his
pace increased, pumping in and out of the brutalized woman. From
their vantage point, the three viewers could see the expression
on Barbara's face - the grimaces of pain and hatred; the bright
red of humiliation - but her voice gave nothing away. She panted
and moaned and grunted just like some common slut.
     She even, when Baxter finally came and pumped his wad of
sticky cum into her unprotected pussy, whined and bucked on the
desk like she too was coming. Phyllis, who had just had a real,
albeit quieter, orgasm, pulled her sticky fingers from under her
skirt and wiped them clean.

     "Oh," Baxter moaned, sliding his now flaccid cock out of
Barbara's sopping pussy, "you are one good fuck."
     Barbara moaned in response, but didn't say anything.

                              *****

     The weeks passed...
     Baxter was insatiable. Since the death of his wife many
years ago, he had indulged only infrequently in any sexual
relations beyond masturbation, and even then only with
prostitutes. He just didn't have the time necessary for that sort
of commitment. The job was everything to him: wife, lover,
children... whatever. That was part of why he felt such a
personal sense of betrayal at his impending forced retirement. It
felt to him more like a personal rejection; more like a divorce.
With only several months now remaining in his employment, he had
already spent many nights examining his sorrows through the
bottom of an empty bottle.
     Barbara, however... well, she gave him new life; new energy.
He had never met a woman like her before. She made him feel like
a man thirty years younger, both mentally and sexually. He had
always, although he had kept it well hidden, fantasized about
taking some tough-minded business woman and treating her like a
common whore; degrading her; talking dirty to her; generally
treating her like a slut. Of course, this had always remained
safely a fantasy, certainly not something he would ever attempt.
Baxter wasn't a particularly nice man, but he wasn't the kind of
man to abuse an unwilling woman. As well, he had become
grudgingly aware that women could be as competent as men in
business. He had gradually - no small part the result of the work
of women like Barbara Dahlton - come to accept them as
colleagues. This grudging acceptance did not, however, put a stop
to the fantasies.
     Then came Barbara. She was different. Special. It was her
who had came on to him; it was her who sent him that note
asking - no, begging - him to treat her like dirt. She genuinely
loved to be degraded.
     So that was what he did.
     At every possible opportunity.
     They had "lunch meetings" two or three times a week in which
her only nourishment was his warm sperm, freshly sucked from his
cock. There was a weekend "business trip" during which he fucked
her seven times in two days, twice up the ass. Several times each
week he would call her into his office and have her crawl under
the desk to give him a blowjob. Once, his secretary, Phyllis, had
walked in on them during one of these sessions. Baxter had just
pushed Barbara's head down and held her hair so that she had no
choice but to continue sucking while Phyllis completed her
business in the office. That business, it had turned out, ended
up taking almost twenty minutes, during which time Baxter came
and Barbara had been forced to swallow as quietly as possible so
as not to alert the busy secretary. Despite, or perhaps because,
of the danger, Baxter had found the whole episode extremely
exciting and was hard again before Phyllis left the office.
Barbara had been forced to suck him off a second time.
     After that, he made a special point of taking her in
relatively public places: closets, empty boardrooms, storage
rooms... She had protested at first, but he just called her a
'stinking slut' or words to that effect and that seemed to break
down any resistance.
     Besides, she seemed to like it as much as he did!
     That was the best part.

     After a while, Barbara got used to it.
     More or less.
     It ended up being just another unpleasant task which was
required to get the job done. Sort of like being asked to leave
the meeting to bring the client a cup of coffee - something that
had occurred only much earlier in her career - or being forced to
spend yet another weekend in the office trying to salvage yet
another fuck-up perpetrated by one of her so-called "superiors".
     And there were ways of dealing with it: always keeping a
bottle of mouthwash in her desk drawer so she could gargle away
the repulsive taste and smell of Baxter's cum; always being
certain that she had a couple of extra pairs of panties
available; a bottle of aspirin for when the pain was too great...
     She never stopped being sickened and repulsed by the man and
by what she was being forced to undergo in order to get this
promotion, but she endured.
     Inevitably, however, her work began to suffer. This didn't
bother her too much, though. Her actions with Baxter were doing
far more to secure the promotion for her than any amount of good
work. Besides, there were others to do the grunt work. That
stupid bitch Carol, for instance. She would be gone from the
company in a few months, but why not make use of her while she
was around?
     In a couple of months, she would hold Baxter's position.
Then things would change...

     To Baxter, the future didn't look quite so good. He would
shortly be retiring and, as if that wasn't bad enough, it had
lately occurred to him that he had not provided for his future as
well as he might have done. He was only now reviewing the
numbers, and they added up to something less than a luxurious
retirement. This only fuelled his resentment against the company.
Fuel that eventually set aflame a spark of an idea.
     What if...

                              *****

     "But that's embezzlement!" The words and outraged tone
sounded incongruous coming from a half-naked woman who was
stretched, legs spread wide, over the front of a desk. From
behind her, Baxter grunted in agreement as he pushed his cock
into her exposed pussy. Barbara bit her lip to keep from crying
out in pain; that first penetration of the day was always the
worst. Gradually, she felt herself loosening up as Baxter
pistoned his cock back and forth. In and out.
     "Yeah," he agreed, still fucking her, "but who's going to
know about it? Between you and me, we control access to the
accounts and receivables on the computer invoicing system. We
could divert hundreds of thousands of dollars into our own
accounts without anyone knowing about it, and then set it up to
look like a computer error."
     Barbara, rocking with the force of his thrusts, followed his
line of reasoning. It seemed sound enough; with a little bit of
work, the theft would be untraceable.
     "But what if..." She stopped speaking and let out a little
wail of pain as Baxter lurched forward with a particularly
vigorous thrust. Instinctively, she turned it into a groan of
mock lust. She was getting quite good at faking lust.
     "No 'what ifs'," Baxter answered through clenched teeth. He
was very close to coming now. "No one will find out. We'll split
the money." With a loud grunt, he jerked up against her, slamming
her chest and face down onto the desktop. Barbara's fists
clenched tightly against the edge of the desk as she felt his
cock swell up and spit cum into her pussy.
     She groaned.
     Another pair of panties.
     After his breathing calmed down a bit, Baxter pulled away
and did up his pants. "Well?" he asked, as Barbara slowly
straightened up, wiping the thin trail of cum off her thighs with
the inside of her skirt. "Are you in?"
     Barbara thought quickly. She had never before considered
embezzling money from the Company, but Baxter's analysis was
accurate: between the two of them, they could get the money out
and set things up so no one would ever suspect them. Really, it
was too good an offer to pass up; it might even provide some
compensation for the humiliation and degradation she was
suffering at the hands of this asshole.
     Maybe she could even find some way to pin it on him later.
     "I'm in," she told him.

     In the little alcove, Brad looked over at Rodney. "This is
getting a little serious," he said.
     Rodney nodded in agreement, his face glum.
     "What do you want to do?"
     Brad shrugged. "I don't know," he answered.
     But he did know. A slow smile lit up his face. "But I think
that things have gone far enough now that maybe we can help Carol
keep her job here."
     Rodney grunted and looked doubtful, but didn't contradict
his friend.

                              *****

     "Ohmigod... I don't believe this!"
     Carol covered her mouth with her small hands, blushing a
pretty shade of red as she watched Barbara Dahlton take Baxter's
cock in her hands and lather her tongue all over the swollen
cockhead. The licking and slurping sounds were clearly audible
through the microphones.
     To say that this had all come as a surprise to her would be
something of an understatement. Earlier that day, Brad Tymmens
had come to her with a stack of computer printouts, a spreadsheet
and an incredible story. An unbelievable story. The printouts had
been simple. They had demonstrated a course of systematic
tampering with the accounts receivable area of the firm's
accounting system. According to the modifications, a percentage
of certain amounts would never appear on the general accounts
ledger, instead being rerouted to a private account. The
spreadsheets had demonstrated the reason behind the
modifications. For someone with Carol's education and
intelligence, the story had been plain: someone was defrauding
the company of tens of thousands of dollars. At least.
     At first, Carol almost thought that Brad had been accusing
her of the embezzlement. Her position at the Company was very
precarious; everyone knew that she was to be "let go" after her
one year contract was up, and apparently Barbara Dahlton - that
bitch! - had spread the word that she was not to receive any
assignments much more difficult than typing or filing. Carol had
thus been surprised when, over the last few weeks, Barbara had
been sending her some more challenging work, but she figured that
Barbara was now so certain that Carol had no future in the
Company it no longer mattered whether she got the work. That was
why she found it difficult to believe when Brad told her that he
was attempting to help her; once Barbara got Baxter's position,
Brad's own job would be on the line.
     Brad's story... well, that was something else altogether.
     No matter how much Carol despised the older woman, she found
it difficult to believe that she would sink so low as to sleep
with Robert Baxter to get the promotion. No woman would do that.
Even without the halitosis, Baxter was a repulsive old man.
Besides, Barbara didn't need to go to such lengths; she had been
up for that promotion for months. It was pretty much settled.
Brad's story didn't make any sense.
     And that was why, when she finally did let Brad talk her
into accompanying him to the alcove outside Baxter's office, she
had been so shocked to see Barbara Dahlton kneel down before
Baxter to gobble hungrily at the man's cock.
          "Whore," Baxter growled, grabbing at Barbara's thick, brown
hair. "Cocksucker." Barbara moaned loudly and slid her lips down
the length of her superior's cock.

     Carol could feel herself blush as she stared at the sexual
activity taking place in the next room. She was not a prude - nor
was she totally inexperienced sexually - but she still felt a
little embarrassed watching something like this. Particularly in
the company of a man. Even more particularly in the company of a
man to whom she felt a strong attraction.
     Like Brad Tymmens.
     With his dark hair and grey eyes.
     Embarrassment aside, however, she felt a strong sense of
fascination at the scene in front of her. Baxter was treating
Barbara like dirt - like a lowly slut - and she seemed to love
it! Every time Baxter called her a 'bitch' or a 'slut', Barbara
seemed to moan with excitement. It seemed to make her hot. BUT
CAROL KNEW IT WASN'T TRUE! Brad had told her everything,
including how he and Rodney and Phyllis had tricked Baxter and
Barbara into believing that the other one really enjoyed such
behaviour. Baxter honestly believed that Barbara liked being
degraded and treated in such a manner, while Barbara understood
that she was to behave in a certain way if she wished to receive
the promotion. In reality, Barbara hated what was happening.
     And that, Carol realized with a small shiver of excitement,
was exactly what fascinated her about the activity taking place
in Baxter's office. Barbara hated it, but was being forced to
submit regardless.
     Almost involuntarily, the small blonde woman reached down
and began rubbing her hand over her crotch.

     "Bend over you bitch," he ordered. "Let's see some cunt."
     Obediently, Barbara leaned forward over Baxter's desk,
pulled up her skirt - no panties - and reached back to spread her
asscheeks. Her pussy was clearly displayed.
     Baxter reached down and began playing with it.

     That was enough.
     Brad had made his point. He turned to usher the younger girl
out of the room, certain that she had seen more than enough. Poor
girl was probably so embarrassed that...
     He turned to speak, but quickly choked back the words. The
"poor girl" was slowly running her hands up and down the outside
of her skirt at crotch level, staring open-mouthed at the scene
taking place in the adjoining office. Her face was flushed, but
not with embarrassment.
     "Carol..."

     Baxter teased and poked at Barbara's exposed pussy; he made
a game of it, running his talon-like fingers up and down the
outside of the woman's cuntlips for a few moments and then
sliding them inside. Barbara twitched and moaned at his
attentions, but didn't protest.
     "Like it," he asked, voice hoarse, "don't you bitch?"
     "Ohhh... yessss...."

     Carol had never felt anything like it. Quite aside from her
hatred of the older woman, the thought of another woman being
forced to submit herself like this when she didn't want to was...
well, for lack of a better word, it was delicious.
     Delicious.
     The small blonde woman felt herself going all warm and wet
inside her own crotch as she watched her tormentress submit to
having her pussy played with by the repulsive Baxter.
     Carol had, quite simply, never felt such a rush of sexual
pleasure.
     "Carol..."
     It was Brad. He could see her reaction to the events in the
next room, but she didn't care. It didn't matter. He was the one
who had set this all up; he was the one who had showed her this,
and allowed her this chance for revenge.
     Without hesitation, she threw her arms around his neck and
brought her lips up to his in a passionate kiss. He resisted for
a moment - surprised - but quickly gave way, melting into her
embrace. Their tongue met and explored each other in a frenzy of
sudden passion.

     As always, Barbara had to fight back the urge to gag when
forced to kiss the older man. As well as his breath, the feel of
his cracked lips and slimy tongue in her mouth made her sick to
her stomach. She held back, though. Baxter had set her up on his
desk, and was now in the final stages of "foreplay".
     "Wanna be fucked?" he growled.
     "Yesss," she moaned in response, "Please fuck me."
     It would be over soon...

     "Fuck me Brad," Carol moaned.
     She was sitting on the side of the small desk, legs spread
and wrapped around Brad's own legs. Her arms encircled his neck,
pulling him forward into her embrace. As they kissed, Brad had
undone her top and unclipped her bra, exposing her small breast
to his touch. The nipples sat, rock hard on her chest as he
gently and then passionately ran his hands along them.
     Carol reached down and undid her skirt. Brad stepped back,
and she let it slide to the floor, where it was quickly joined by
her panties.
     "Oh Brad," she whispered as he undid his own pants...

     "Unhh..." Barbara grunted in pain and discomfort as Baxter
drove his prick into her pussy with one quick surge. She quickly
turned it into a groan of lust, and he didn't notice anything
wrong. Almost immediately, he began pumping his cock in and out
of her unresisting pussy.
     Barbara stifled a groan of pain.
     Almost over...

     Carol sighed with pleasure as Brad's penis slowly filled her
pussy. The steady rhythm of movement against her clit sent waves
of warmth and pleasure shooting up through her belly and into her
breasts. Moaning, she once again wrapped her legs around behind
him and began moving in time with his gentle thrusts...

     The two couples came at the same time.
     Carol and Brad picked up the rhythm and then pulled each
other together into a tight, sweaty embrace as they each orgasmed
simultaneously. Baxter stiffened and grunted as he dumped a load
of sperm into Barbara's pussy. Barbara moaned and bucked as he
came, trying her best to give the impression that she was coming.
Baxter was fooled, but Carol, watching wide-eyed over Brad's
shoulder wasn't. That fact - Barbara's faked orgasm - allowed her
to come a second time, revelling in the humiliation of the woman
who had been tormenting her for so long.
     And it gave her an idea.
     And so, as she and Brad slowly disengaged; as Baxter pulled
his cum-soaked penis out of Barbara's sopping pussy and ordered
the woman to clean it off with her mouth, Carol smiled
maliciously at Brad.
     "That was great," she said, running her hand through her
lover's sweat-soaked hair, "but it's not enough."
     "W-what do you mean?"
     "All this." Carol gestured towards the adjoining office,
where Barbara was busily slurping away at Baxter's cock. "The
humiliation... it's great. But it's just the beginning."
     "I don't understand." Brad was still in a bit of a daze from
the sex.
     "Don't you see," Carol asked. She pointed towards the pile
of computer printouts and spreadsheets. "We've got enough there
to put both her and Baxter away for some time." The blonde woman
gave a smile that both frightened and attracted him at the same
time.
     "She's ours," Carol laughed. "Barbara belongs to us now."

                          END PART TWO
=================================================================
As usual, all comments are welcome.
-snip--------------------------------------------------------------------

Cheers,
-- 
Thomas Baetzler, bath0011@fh-karlsruhe.de, thb@spectre.ka.sub.org

Hain't we got all the fools in town on our side?  And hain't that a big
enough majority in any town?         --- Mark Twain, "Huckleberry Finn"

From s_racer@primenet.com Thu 01 Jun 95 04:30:43
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
From: "Thomas Baetzler" <thb@spectre.ka.sub.org>
Date: Thu, 01 Jun 1995 01:03:04 +0100
Reply-To: "Thomas Baetzler" <bath0011@fh-karlsruhe.de>
Subject: Repost: PARKER #11: Career Opportunities 3/4 (mf,nc)
Message-ID: <2272397@spectre.ka.sub.org>


    Sorry, this part of the story is missing in my archive. Somebody else
will probably repost it in a while.

Cheers,
-- 
Thomas Baetzler, bath0011@fh-karlsruhe.de, thb@spectre.ka.sub.org

Hain't we got all the fools in town on our side?  And hain't that a big
enough majority in any town?         --- Mark Twain, "Huckleberry Finn"

From s_racer@primenet.com Thu 01 Jun 95 04:31:08
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
From: "Thomas Baetzler" <thb@spectre.ka.sub.org>
Date: Thu, 01 Jun 1995 01:03:06 +0100
Reply-To: "Thomas Baetzler" <bath0011@fh-karlsruhe.de>
Subject: Repost: PARKER #11: Career Opportunities 4/4 (mf,nc)
Message-ID: <2272398@spectre.ka.sub.org>

    Hello,

    this post is part of the PARKER series of stories, reposted as
requested by The_Spectre. I didn't write any of these, PARKER did.
Please do not send email requesting reposts and/or that parts be sent via
email to you. If you want it, save it now.

    MINI-FAQ:

    - Please post stories only to this group. If you are fed up with other
people posting crap here, consider sending them a friendly, short message
telling them that they are breaching the charter of this group, and that
they should take their talk to another, more suitable group.

    - Ignore stupid and offensive posts, ala "AOL r00lz/sucks", "<het|gay>
off this group", etc. pp. Rest assured that other people find this as
offensive as you do - no need to point it out to everybody. Chances are
that it was a troll, anyways.  If you must vent some steam, send email,
post to alt.sex.stories.d, or forward the offending post to the person's
postmaster.

-snip--------------------------------------------------------------------
Newsgroup: alt.sex.stories
Subject: PARKER11 (Career Opportunities 4/4)
From: PARKER,an31072@anon.penet.fi
Date: 31 Mar 94  00:57:30
Message-ID: 010402Z31031994@anon.penet.fi

                    CAREER OPPORTUNITIES 4/4
                            By Parker

     WARNING: This story contains a certain amount of non-
     consensual sexual activity, as well as instances of
     domination, humiliation and the barest hint of lesbian
     activity. If you find any of this offensive, please read no
     further (lest you be offended).

Copyright 1994 by Parker (me). Feel free to distribute
(unaltered, of course), but be discrete.
=================================================================

     Carol stretched, lazy and catlike, her small, white foot
extending from beneath the thick quilt. "So," she asked, yawning
contentedly in the aftermath of the lovemaking, "Jerry was pretty
excited?"
     Brad snorted. "Excited isn't the word," he answered. "You
couldn't get him to shut up about it. Most of the office has
probably heard about it by now." He got up off the bed and
padded, naked, towards the bathroom.
      Carol watched him go, hungrily eyeing his ass. Less than ten
minutes after a long fuck session, and she was ready to go again!
Must be all this talk about Barbara, Carol reasoned. A small,
delicious shiver ran through her body at the thought of what
she... what they were doing to that bitch.
     Carol's thoughts were interrupted as Brad came out of the
bathroom. She looked hopefully towards his crotch as he came back
into the room, but was disappointed. He had put on a robe.
     Damn.
     Ah well. Back to Barbara...
     "So you think everyone knows about it?" she asked.
     "Probably," Brad told her, sitting down on the edge of the
bed. "Word gets 'round."
     "Good. The more people the better."
     Brad shrugged. "Well, one thing's for sure. She won't be
going into the stockroom again anytime soon."
     Carol just smiled. "We'll see about that." Her pussy was
getting wet just thinking about what had happened to Barbara in
the stockroom. And what was still to come.
     The couple fell silent for a moment. Brad looked at the
floor. "Actually," he said, "I've been meaning to ask you
something."
     Carol looked over at him, waiting. "I mean," he explained,
"I know you hate Barbara and everything... and you've got reason.
But... but, well, how far are you going to go with this thing? I
feel..."
     "How far?" Suddenly angry, Carol sat up in the bed. Brad
started to look away, but his attention was captured by her
breasts, small but firm. Perfect. "In case you've forgotten, I'm
going to lose my job in a little over a month. Thanks to that
bitch! I don't think that I will have gone too far until..."
     "No, I don't mean..."
     Carol stopped in mid-rant, suddenly deflated. "Sorry," she
said quietly. "I just get so angry sometimes."
     Brad leaned over and gathered her into his arms. "That's
OK," me murmured, resting her head on his shoulder. "I do
understand. It's just that I heard about Baxter yesterday,
and..."
     "Baxter?" Carol pulled away and looked him in the face.
"What happened with Baxter?"
     "Didn't you hear? He had a heart attack. He's dead."
     Carol fell silent, stunned at the news. Brad watched her as
she turned away; as she looked down; as her shoulders began to
shake silently...
     "Carol..."
     Carol turned to him.
      She was laughing.
      "Carol?"
     "Don't you see," she asked, laughter dying down. "It's
perfect. I needed just one more thing to finish her off... and
that's it. It's perfect."
      The young blonde woman started laughing again.
     Brad just looked at her, uneasy.
      What was she talking about?

                              *****

     WEEK SIX:
     Another trip to the beauty salon.
     Tammy was a little happier with the result this time. Still
no artificial nails, but by this time her "customer's" natural
nails had grown out a fair bit - Barbara had been forbidden to
cut them - so the nail polish looked a little more appropriate.
Tammy also liked the colour a bit better: a nice hot pink, which
perfectly matched the new colour of lipstick. And, as per
instructions from Carol, Tammy had laid things on a little
heavier this time: a little more makeup; a more metallic blonde
hair colour; a slightly wilder hair style.
     Barbara hadn't said anything through the entire session. She
just sat there, staring straight ahead while Tammy worked. A
little spooky, Tammy thought, but what the hey?
      The money was good.

     Barbara pursed her lips, examining her makeup in the mirror.
Everything looked in place. The new lipstick was a little tarty
for her taste, but it wasn't like she had a choice.
      Only another five or so weeks...
     She turned just as the door opened. It was Carol of course;
the bitch never announced herself. And Phyllis was no use
whatsoever; once the eleven weeks were up...
     "Well," Carol smiled approvingly, "I must say, you look
quite something. Quite the little slut."
     "What do..."
     Carol just laughed. "Don't start bitching at me. You got off
easy this week. A simple trip to the beauty parlour is hardly a
problem for a girl like you."
     Barbara quit trying to protest. She couldn't figure out what
the hell the blonde woman was going on about. Best just to shut
up and listen. Besides, she *had* gotten off easy this week.
     "Anyway," Carol continued, "I need you to pick up some stuff
for me from the supply room." She put a piece of paper on
Barbara's desk. It was a list of numerous office supply items.
     "Ask a secretary," Barbara snapped. "Get Phyllis to do it.
It's not like..."
     Carol silenced her with a stare. "I'm asking you."
     Once again, Barbara fell silent. "Yes Carol," she acquiesced
quietly. Best to go along with it.
      Only five more weeks...

     Barbara was extremely conscious of the shortness of her
skirt as she bent down to pull some supplies from a shelf. It
hadn't been obvious, but the skirts had been getting steadily
shorter. The one she was wearing today must have been a good
eight inches from her knees, not so bad when she was sitting
behind a desk, but definitely an embarrassing disadvantage when
bending over. Luckily, she was alone in the stock room. Sighing,
she bent over and reached across the shelf. It would have been
better to have gone around to the other side, but if she could
just reach...
     Barbara was startled to feel a hand on her ass.
     "Hey!" Shocked and alarmed, she tried to back up, but there
was someone standing directly behind her, blocking her path and
trapping her as she stood, bent at the waist with her upper body
stuck between two shelves. "What are you... what's going on..."
     No answer.
      Or at least no verbal answer.
      A hand reached around under her chest and roughly squeezed
her breast. "Noooo...." Barbara was now beginning to panic: WHO
WAS DOING THIS TO HER??? Frantically, she tried to twist her
upper body, attempting to turn her face and get a look at the
person who was abusing her. Just as she did so, however, a piece
of heavy cloth was dropped over her head: someone's jacket? She
tried to grab ahold of it to pull it away, but her wrists were
taken and fastened to the railings at either end of the shelf.
She was now blind and helpless, bent in two with her ass hanging
over one end of the shelf and her face over the other.
     Her panicked cries were muffled by the jacket as she felt
her short skirt being rolled up her legs until her ass was
completely exposed. A pair of hand grabbed her panties - the
pink, frilly ones, as ordered by Carol - and yanked them free.
Angrily, she tried to kick back at her tormentors, but her ankles
were quickly tied about three feet apart to the lower rails of
the shelf.
      "You bastards," she yelled from beneath the jacket. "I'll...
umph..." Her cries were cut off as a hand reached under the
jacket and rudely stuffed a small bundle of cloth into her open
mouth. Her sense of smell told her what it was: her panties.
"Hmmmm..." She tried to push the foul tasting cloth out of her
mouth, but a hand was held over her mouth, holding them in.
     Barbara was beginning to panic in earnest now. She felt a
finger between her legs... squeezing... pressing... She tried to
close her legs, but the bindings at her ankles kept them spread.
She was totally helpless.
      Exposed.
     "Hah," came a male voice, "The slut's already wet. Little
whore really wants it."
      Barbara felt her face burning beneath the jacket. It was
true; for some reason, her pussy was moist. No matter how hard
she tried, she couldn't keep her body from betraying her. And the
language they were using... calling her a "bitch" and a
"whore"... With every new epithet, she felt a shiver of pleasure
run through her.
      Just like last week with Jerry.
     Jerry! She *did* recognize the voice. It was...
     Her thoughts were interrupted as a thick cock was inserted
into her exposed pussy and buried inside with one brutal shove.
She squealed and rocked forward, trying to jerk away from the
cock, but it was no use; she was trapped by the shelves. All she
could do was stand there, bent over at the waist, as she was
raped from behind. The man pistoned his hips back and forth,
riding his cock in and out of her now sopping pussy. In a way,
she felt almost grateful for her arousal; the lubrication spared
her a lot of pain.
     Pain.
     A hand slapped the side of her ass, causing her to buck and
screech in shock. "C'mon bitch," the voice said. "Fuck me back. I
know you like it." The hand came down again, sending a shiver of
pain and... and pleasure through her body. Slowly, and then with
greater energy, she began to fuck back against the cock, sliding
her hips back and forth as she felt her own arousal building.
"Uhh... Uhhh... Uhh..." She began to grunt in time with the
thrusts.
     After a few moments, the man behind her stiffened and came,
shooting his load of sperm straight into her pussy. Barbara
moaned with frustration as he pulled out; she was so close! She
heard laughter in the room - how many men were there? - as she
futilely bucked her sweaty ass back against the air. She must
have looked ridiculous, but she didn't care. "Please..." she
moaned through the soggy panties. "Please..."
     Her muffled wish was quickly granted as another man came up
behind her and jammed his cock up her pussy. She squealed, this
time with pleasure, and began vigorously fucking back at him. As
she did so, she felt the hand at her mouth pull away, taking the
sopping panties with them. Barbara opened her mouth to groan, but
it was immediately filled with cock. She tried to push it away,
but her wrists were firmly fastened to the shelves. All she could
do was suck at the cock and try not to gag.
     The sudden intrusion of the cock in her mouth momentarily
threw off the rhythm of her arousal, but she soon picked it up
again. Moaning with lust, she bucked back against the cock buried
in her pussy and sucked hungrily at the cock in her mouth. Her
first orgasm came about thirty seconds later, a mind numbing
burst of pleasure which left her gasping for more.
     The two men came at the same time, simultaneously pumping
sperm into her mouth and pussy. She swallowed as fast as she
could, but was unable to prevent the hot jism from bubbling over
her lips and dribbling down her chin.
     Both cocks pulled away and were quickly replaced.

       By the end of the session in the storeroom, she must have
fucked at least a dozen guys (or, maybe, fewer than a dozen and
some of them twice; it was impossible to tell). After the first
few, she had sunk into some kind of sexual daze where she had
remained for most of the session, grunting, bucking and panting
like some kind of wind-up sex doll. The only exception had been
when they had begun fucking her in the ass rather then in the
pussy. The pain had momentarily woken her from her daze, but
after the first couple of ass fucks, she no longer felt it.
      Nothing but orgasm... after orgasm... after...
     When she finally regained her senses, she was lying on the
floor of the storeroom, her ankles still tied to the lower
railing of the shelves. Moving stiffly, she had untied herself
and staggered to her feet. Fortunately, her clothing was still
pretty much intact, albeit cum-stained, and she was able to
repair her general appearance. After wiping away as much of the
sperm as possible with the inside of her skirt, she left the
storeroom and walked as quickly as possible to her office.
     She would have to repair her makeup as soon as possible.
Couldn't let Carol see her like this...

     Phyllis looked up, quickly hitting the ENTER key on her
computer, removing her boss's electronic diary from the screen.
Barbara, hair and makeup repaired, but still in something of a
daze, walked past and into her office, not even acknowledging the
secretary's existence. Behind her, Phyllis stared at the closed
door with a curious mix of longing and anger. "Steady girl," she
muttered under her breath. "You'll get your chance."
     A quick glance through the window revealed that Barbara was
not using the diary - she had not even turned on her computer.
Phyllis smirked and called it up on her screen. There was an
important meeting tomorrow.
      A few more changes and...

                              *****

     "...and I just don't have time for this," he stated, almost
shouting in anger. "You've been cancelling these meetings for the
last couple of weeks, and I finally get a chance to see you and
you don't bloody show up!" Harold Simpson slammed his beefy fist
down on the boardroom table, frustrated and angry. "And now you
tell me that the report I specifically came here to get won't be
ready till next week."
     Barbara fought to hold back the tears. "I'm so sorry Mr.
Simpson," she apologised frantically. "I thought that the meeting
wasn't until..."
     "Bullshit!" The enraged client heaved his considerable bulk
up out of his chair and began pacing. "I called your secretary
yesterday. She confirmed the meeting."
     "But..."
     "I'm sick of excuses."
      Barbara fell silent.
      Simpson looked over at her and sighed. She used to be one of
the best business contacts he had ever worked with: tough, smart,
hard working. But now...
      He had been shocked at her new appearance when she had
stumbled into the meeting almost forty-five minutes late. The
platinum hair; the pink lipstick; the short skirt and high
heels... she looked more like some bimbo secretary than the tough
businesswomen he remembered. At first he had assumed that the
changes were just cosmetic - that she had just gotten a new
boyfriend or something like that - and was still as efficient as
ever. But that assumption had proved wrong. And he just couldn't
risk leaving his business to someone like that.
     "Barbara," he said, "I'm sorry, but this meeting is over.
I'll be calling Riker this afternoon and arrange to get my files
transferred back to my office."
     Barbara just stood there, stunned. Simpson was firing the
firm! Oh god... he was one of their biggest clients. Riker would
fire her for sure!
     "Please... Mr... Harold," she said, walking slowly forward.
"Give me another chance. It won't happen again."
     Simpson just shook his head. "I'm afraid not," he answered.
"It's just too..."
     He broke off speaking just as she came up to him. In a flash
of insight, she understood why: it was her. He was attracted to
her; wanted her.
      Wanted to fuck her.
     Her first reaction was one of nausea. Quite apart from her
firm policy not to get involved with clients - and Simpson wasn't
the first to be interested - Harold Simpson was far from an
attractive man. He was grossly fat, with a red, jowly face and
receding hairline. But still... he was one of the Company's
oldest and richest clients; a client the Company could not afford
to lose. That loss would spell the end of her career, and she had
gone through so much - eight weeks of hell, thanks to that bitch
Carol - to keep her job and get the promotion.
     And how bad could it be? She'd already fucked half the guys
at the office?
     Forcing a smile onto her beautiful face, Barbara moved right
up to the angry client. He tried to say something, stuttering
impotently, but she shushed him with one, brightly painted
fingernail on his lips. "It's alright," she purred. "You don't
have to say anything. I know what you need."
     She leaned into him and brought her lips up to his mouth.
His lips were thick and soft... and wet. She almost gagged at the
feel of him, but at the same time felt a thrill of lust run
through her body. She didn't understand it, but counted it a
blessing as he opened his mouth and sucked hungrily at her
tongue. How else could she possibly go through with this?
     After a long, sensuous kiss, she slowly sunk to her knees in
front of him, her fingers pulling down his zipper and carefully
coaxing his slug-like cock free from his trousers. He gasped and
then leaned back against the boardroom table as Barbara's hot
mouth engulfed his cock and began sucking.
      Perhaps, he thought, he should reconsider his decision to
fire her. She may not be much use for business any more, but the
beautiful bitch certainly had her uses...

                              *****

     WEEK NINE:
     This couldn't be happening.
      It just couldn't.
     She had come into the office that monday morning, wobbling a
bit on her new stiletto heels, but still feeling pretty good. The
end was in sight: just a couple more weeks. And not only did she
still have her job, but Riker had indicated to her that he
expected the promotion to become permanent in the near future.
Apparently, Simpson been very... enthusiastic about working with
her. She shuddered a bit, not the least because of the memory of
her own reactions the fat bastard had...
     Well, best not to think about it.
     The letter had been on her desk when she had arrived,
sitting beside a steaming cup of coffee. Phyllis must have
brought it in, Barbara had mused, taking a long sip as she
reached for the letter. She had opened it immediately and scanned
its contents, wanting to delay the inevitable moment when she
would turn on her computer and read that week's orders.
     To say that the news was a shock would be an understatement.
She almost swallowed her gum as she collapsed back into her
office chair. Baxter was dead! That was enough, but there was
more. Much more...
     Panicking, she reached over and punched the desk intercom.
"Phyllis," she ordered, "get Fawkner and Tymmens. Tell them to
get to my office right away."
      Heart racing, she leaned back in her chair to think. Those
assholes had gotten her into this mess, and they could bloody
well get her out of it. If not, she'd make certain to take them
down with her...

     Brad slumped back against the wall, biting his lip with
worry, while Carol paced angrily back and forth in the office.
Only Barbara, sitting calmly at her desk, seemed unmoved. This
was, however, an illusion; inside, she was bleakly reviewing the
destruction of her hopes and plans. There was no doubt about it:
she was going to jail. The money was gone. Those four words...

     "Suing?" Carol had been flabbergasted, staring at the
letter.
     "That's right," Barbara agreed. "His estate is suing for the
$120,000 we embezzled from the Company."
     Brad, typically Barbara thought, had been confused. "Well
what do you mean? Did you owe Baxter the money or something?"
     Carol had answered: "Not exactly. The way they set up the
embezzlement scheme, the money went into Barbara's account. In
order to reduce taxes, he was going to accept it as a capital
gain through a shell company." She looked over at Barbara.
"That's right, isn't it?" Barbara nodded tiredly. "So," Carol
continued, "when Baxter's estate went into probate, the money
turned up as a debt to his account. A debt from Barbara to his
company."
     Brad still looked confused, but the two women ignored him.
Barbara cut right to the heart of the matter: "I need that money
back," she said. "We set it up so that the debt is watertight. I
have to pay; if not, they'll sue, and this whole thing will come
unravelled." She looked Carol straight in the eye. "And if things
come to that," she said menacingly, "I'll make sure everyone
knows what happened here." Carol swallowed and turned red.
Barbara, enjoying the feeling of being in control once again,
repeated her request. "Give me back the money."
     Carol was silent.
      It was Brad spoke up: "We can't," he said quietly. "The
money is gone."
          The money was gone.
     Barbara's facade of calm crumbled, at first slowly and then
more quickly until she was literally in tears. Over the last few
minutes, she had begun to feel a sense of confusion come over
her. It must be the pressure, she told herself, making it hard to
think. Still, she couldn't help herself from feeling overwhelmed
by it all: after everything she had gone through in the last few
months... and now to lose it all. It just wasn't fair. It just
wasn't...
     "...Barbara?"
     Barbara stopped sniffling and looked over at Carol. The
women had been saying something to her, but she had been too
wrapped up in self-pity to listen. "W-what?"
     "There's a way out of this," Carol told her, suddenly
decisive. "Baxter's estate hasn't actually sued yet. If you
declare bankruptcy before they sue, everything will go to the
trustee in bankruptcy, and they won't be able to get at it. No
one'll know where the money went."
     In her confused state, Barbara turned this idea over in her
head. Bankruptcy... but didn't that mean...
     "You'll have to decide quickly," Carol stated, interrupting
Barbara's thoughts. "This letter says that they're going to sue
right away. You have to declare before that happens."
     Barbara felt increasingly confused, but one thought stuck
out in her mind: if she didn't do it and the estate sued her, her
career would be over and she would be going to jail. She was
certain of it. She wasn't sure about Carol's idea, but... what
other choice was there? Barbara shook her head, trying to clear
away the fog of confusion, but only succeeded in disorienting
herself. What...
     "Well?" Carol asked. "What do you want to do? I can have a
lawyer here within half and hour if you want."
     Barbara bit her lip and nodded.
         She would declare bankruptcy. It was the only way out.
      Numb, she picked up her coffee cup and finished the dregs
while the young blonde woman picked up the phone and called the
lawyer...

     The lawyer turned out to be a woman named Terry McDonnell.
     Coincidentally, Barbara actually knew her: the lawyer had
worked on a file for the Company a number of years ago. The deal
had come apart and Barbara had registered a complaint to the Bar
Society. McDonnell had been disciplined, and the Company no
longer sent work to that firm. Fortunately, Ms. McDonnell didn't
seem to recognize Barbara, or remember who she was. For the first
time, Barbara was pleased about the change in her appearance.
     The lawyer entered the office and brusquely laid out a bunch
of forms on Barbara's desk while Carol and Brad watched in
silence. "Now Ms. Dahlton," she said, "you understand the
bankruptcy process?" Barbara, still confused, shook her head.
"Basically, you sign over all your assets to a trustee, whose job
it is to distribute those assets among your creditors. The
bankruptcy period lasts one year, during which all of your wages
and other income will go to the trustee. You will, of course, be
allowed to keep a certain percentage of your income to live on,
but everything else will be distributed. At the end of the year,
your creditors will accept whatever payment they get from the
trustee, and you are discharged." The woman paused for a breath
before asking: "Do you have any questions?"
     Once again, Barbara shook her head. She didn't really
understand, but didn't want to appear stupid. Besides, McDonnell
seemed to know what she was doing.
     "Fine." McDonnell nodded and gathered up a stack of forms.
"I have your assets all listed here, so I just need you to sign a
few papers."
      In her confused state, Barbara didn't think to ask how the
lawyer had already compiled a list of assets. She just took the
first form and tried to read it. It was, however, filled with
dense legalese, and, after a few moments, she gave up and just
signed it. That form was followed by a second, equally
impenetrable, document; a third... On it went. After the first
few, she gave up reading and just signed them.
     Finally, it was over. McDonnell gathered up the signed
documents. "Thank you," she said. "That will do it. I'll get
these executed right away." She turned and left the office,
followed closely by Carol and Brad.
     Barbara eased back in her chair and heaved a sigh of relief.
Thank god that was taken care of...

     "...and you need to file these as soon as possible,"
McDonnell said, handing Carol most of the forms, "Ms Trustee."
Carol took the forms; she was now the trustee, the legal owner,
of almost all of Barbara's assets - and income - for the coming
year. Plenty of time to arrange for the suitable disposal of
those assets.
     "But this one..." The lawyer held up a document, a smile
appearing on her face for the first time since she had arrived.
"This one I'll do myself. The name change has to be published
before it takes effect."
     Carol smirked. "Fine Terry," she said, "but do it soon."
     Terry McDonnell, who very clearly remembered the incident
with Barbara Dahlton, smiled a nasty smile: "I'm on my way now.
It'll be in the classified section of the final edition. By
tomorrow, her name will officially be Barbie Dahl."

                              *****

     "...and, well, you've shown such a marked improvement these
last three months, we'd like you to stay on."
     Carol smiled widely. Her one year probation period was
finally up and it looked like she was going to keep her job! More
than that...
      "As you may have heard," Riker continued, shifting
uncomfortably in his seat, "There have been some... difficulties
with Ms Dahlton's work lately. We'd thought that things were back
to normal - Simpson spoke very highly of her; damn near insisted
on working exclusively with her - but now this bankruptcy
thing..." The balding executive scratched his head. "Well... we'd
like you to take her job, on a temporary basis of course. See how
you fit in."
     Carol could barely contain herself. Not only was she being
kept on, but she was being offered a great promotion: Barbara's
job, no less! This was too good to be true. Wait until she told
Brad!
     Still... there was one thing.
     "Well Ms Fawkner?" Riker was a little miffed; he'd been
expecting something more of a reaction. It wasn't every day a
junior employee got such good news.
     Carol shook her head. "I'm sorry Mr Riker," she apologized.
"Of course I'll be delighted to take the job. The company's been
very good to me so far, and I like it here. But..."
     "But?"
     "Well," Carol lowered her face. "It's about... Barbara. I
know she hasn't been 'on' lately, but... I think it's because of
Baxter." Carol looked up, gauging Riker's reaction. "I think she
was hit hard when he died. They had been working together for a
long time."
     Riker frowned at the mention of Baxter's name, but his face
softened when Carol explained Barbara's reactions. "It's nice of
you to defend her," he answered. "To tell the truth... well,
maybe I shouldn't be telling you this, but Barbara was never
particularly complimentary about your work."
     "I know," Carol looked upset. "But it just doesn't seem fair
to fire her just like that."
     Riker shrugged his shoulders. "Well, I don't know what else
to do about it," he told her. "We can't have her as an executive.
Quite aside from the quality of work, the bankruptcy will reflect
on the entire company. And the name change... did you know?"
Carol nodded, fighting back a smirk. "Changed her name to 'Barbie
Dahl', for christ's sake." He shook his head in disbelief.
"Barbie Dahl. She's lost it completely."
     "I know," Carol agreed. "But maybe she can stay on in
another capacity."
     "What do you have in mind?"
     Carol smiled and began to explain exactly what she had in
mind...

     "Don't tell me..."
     "Listen, you idiot," Carol cut the older woman off. "You're
going to be fired if you don't listen to me. Riker wants to let
you go right now, but I convinced him to give you another chance.
He wants to talk with you. Now."
     Barbara slumped back against her desk, instinctively patting
down her short skirt - if she wasn't careful, it got bunched up
on her legs. Wavy blonde hair perfectly in place, she stuck out
her pink-lipstick covered lower lip in a sexy pout as she
considered her options. If Riker was going to fire her... Even
the thought made her lower lip quiver and her eyes brighten with
tears. Without thinking, she pulled the small makeup mirror out
of her desk drawer and checked her makeup; wouldn't do to have
the mascara run.
     Now, what had Carol said about saving the job?
     "He wants to talk to me?" she asked, voice quavering.
     Carol nodded. "Right now. I convinced him that we can still
use you around the office, but he wants to hear from you how much
you want to work here."
     Barbara sighed, breasts heaving beneath her skimpy blouse,
and nodded in agreement.
      She did want the job.
      "And don't forget," Carol added, following as the older
woman left the office. "If you get fired, there will be no money
for the bankruptcy. You may yet end up in jail."
     This thought sent another chill of fear through Barbara as
she hustled down the hallway, walking expertly on the five inch
heels.

     Carol and Phyllis watched her go, the latter staring
hungrily at Barbara's ass.
      "Well," Carol sighed. "This is it."
     Phyllis looked up at and smiled hopefully. "You haven't
forgotten..."
     "No." Carol shook her head. "If things go as planned, she'll
be all yours."

     "...and I really, really need the job Mr Riker..."
     Even now, Riker couldn't believe the change. Just three
months ago, Barbara Dahlton had been one of the toughest, most
competent executives in the Company; a shoe-in for Baxter's job.
And now...
     "...I promise not to mess up again. That was..."
     And now, here she was... looking like some kind of blonde
sex-bimbo, practically begging to be kept on.
     "...so please give me another chance."
     She finally ran down and fell silent. Riker let his gaze
move slowly over her body, starting from her five-inch pumps, up
her long, sleek legs, barely covered by the short skirt, up to
her large, firm breasts and beautiful, tarty face and blonde
hair. God she looked hot!
     "But you understand," he said, fighting to keep the lust
from his voice, "that you can't stay at your present position and
salary?"
     "Oh, yes Mr Riker."
     And the gum; made her look like such a tart!
     "And you don't mind acting as Ms Fawkner's personal
secretary? She's pretty new..."
     "Oh no," came the answer. "I like working for Carol."
     Riker paused for a moment. She seemed awfully anxious to
keep the job; and she looked so sexy standing there like that...
his dick was straining against the fabric of his pants.
     A thought occurred to him.
     But... well, why not?
      She was just another office bimbo now.
     "I'm not so sure," he said lazily, getting up and walking  around to
stand in front of his desk, "that you're really right
for the job." He leaned back against the desk, legs slightly
spread. "How much do you want it?"

     Barbara swallowed, eyes brightening with tears.
      But she knew what to do.
     Slowly, forcing a sexy smile on her vacant face, Barbara
Dahlton - Barbie Dahl - knelt down in front of Riker and reached
over to undo his zipper with her long, brightly painted nails...

                              *****

     "What a bimbo!"
     The small circle of people laughed as the object of the
comment, Barbie Dahl, entered the room where the office summer
party was being held. As usual, she was dressed provocatively:
six inch heels, black stocking and ultra-short leather skirt,
tank top... on the whole, just barely within the bounds of
acceptability at the party. And, as usual, the clothes looked
great on her; the regular trips to Workout World had worked
wonders on her body.
     "Who is she?" The speaker was a new trainee executive.
     Carol smiled at her. "That's Barbie," she answered. "She's
my personal assistant. Just a sec, I'll introduce you." The
blonde woman turned and called out: "Barbie! Here, girl." The
woman, Barbie, flushed a bright red as the people in the room
laughed, but she quickly came over, walking expertly on the
heels.

     Barbara - Barbie - felt herself flush with embarrassment and
humiliation as she approached the group. Six months ago, she had
been their equal or superior, and now...
     "Hello Barbie," Carol greeted her.
     "Ma'am," Barbie nodded, eyes cast downward. Carol was very
strict about that: she was always to refer to Carol as "ma'am" in
public. As well, she was under strict orders never to talk about
business around other people. In private, Carol was happy to pick
her brains about business and the Company, but in public she was
to be an airhead.
      Pretty, but vacant.
     "I want you to meet Sandra," Carol said, smiling. "Sandra
Janson, this is Barbie, my personal assistant." Barbie looked up
at Sandra but didn't speak. "Barbie," Carol admonished, "say
hello."
     Barbie flushed again. "Hello Ms Janson," she said in a small
voice. She hated this; the girl was fifteen years her junior.
     "Hello Barbie," the girl answered, smirking.
     The group laughed.
     "If you'll excuse me for a moment," Carol said to the group,
"I just want a word with Barbie. She gets so confused when she
isn't told what to do."
     Another round of laughter, and Barbie heard the new girl
mutter "what a bimbo" as she walked away.
     "Barbie," Carol stated, matter of fact now that she was no
longer 'performing', "Riker wants to meet with you in his office.
And Simpson is going to be here later." Barbie shuddered; she
knew what that meant. For the last couple of months, Carol had
been using her to keep Simpson happy - using her as a "business
whore" Carol called it - while Carol did the deals and got the
credit. So far it had worked out great for everyone but Barbie -
the Company got the work; Carol got the credit; and Simpson got
full use of Barbie usually at least once or twice a week. Carol
was so happy with the arrangement, that she was planning to use
Barbie in the same capacity with other customers. ("Between your
pussy and my brains...") "He'll be expecting you to hang all over
him at the party and then accompany him back to his hotel room."
Barbie couldn't help but tremble at the small shiver of lust in
her tummy; she just couldn't help herself. She hated every moment
of being with Simpson, but for some reason, she just couldn't
stop coming.
     And the thought of being forced to sleep with other
customers...
     "I've spoken to Phyllis," Carol continued. "She won't be
expecting you home until tomorrow." Barbie shuddered again at the
thought of the red headed secretary. Between the drop in pay and
the percentage taken by the trustee in bankruptcy, Barbara had no
longer been able to afford her own apartment. Carol had arranged
for Phyllis to take her in, and the two women now lived together.
Barbie was still not a lesbian, despite the best efforts of her
roommate, but she had learned how to suck pussy and fake
excitement sufficiently well to satisfy Phyllis.
     She hated it, though.
      Every second of it.
     "Barbie!" The blonde bimbo heard her name spoken, this time
by a male voice. It was Riker, standing across the room in a
doorway. "I want to see you right away," he called to her. This
brought another round of laughter from the party-goers. Everyone
knew what was going to happen at the meeting.
     "Off you go," Carol told her, giving her a pat on the ass.
"Have a good time."
     Flushing a bright red, Barbie walked across the room,
followed by a good number of lustful stares from the men in the
room. It had been several days since she had been gang banged in
the storeroom, and they were getting restless again.
      This week for sure.

     Carol felt a hand across her shoulders and looked up to see
Brad smiling down at her.
      "Everything OK?" he asked.
     She smiled back and gave him a quick hug. "Perfect," she
told him. "Couldn't be better."
     From behind her, she heard the booming voice of Harold
Simpson as he entered the party. He already sounded half drunk,
and seemed ready to have some fun.
     She looked up at Brad and the two of them laughed. Maybe
things could get better...

                             THE END
=================================================================
As usual, all comments are appreciated.
-snip--------------------------------------------------------------------

Cheers,
-- 
Thomas Baetzler, bath0011@fh-karlsruhe.de, thb@spectre.ka.sub.org

Hain't we got all the fools in town on our side?  And hain't that a big
enough majority in any town?         --- Mark Twain, "Huckleberry Finn"