DudeThrill.com
It wasn't a rosy time for my department. Many companies had made "cuts" in training, and even my outside consulting assignments were jeopardized by tumultuous changes at the top. I was losing my old contacts and struggling to make new ones, because I had been relying a bit on my successes and had deluded myself that I could do without public relations. As for money, I wasn't having a bad time, but the inertia of that moment made me feel helpless and lost, like a rolling bush dragged by the desert wind.
Trapped in a marriage with a man whom I despised and at the mercy of a lover who would not decide to kidnap me once and for all, I found vague and ephemeral consolations in stories of a night that I built up in my mind to make them acceptable to my body, usually demanding and fickle. I wanted to give myself away, sell myself to feel an emotion, but everything lasted as long as a condom bought at a distributor.
It was because of this sense of futility that I accepted an assignment for which I no longer felt suited. It was a work-related stress assessment for the Italian branch of a well-known multinational electronics company. Since I had specialized in corporate coaching, I didn't often get called for this kind of situation, and to be honest I found them boring and quite useless. It was all about telling the head office manager what he hated to hear, negotiating the formal aspects and producing as superficial a final report as possible, and in the cat's eye the misunderstanding of changing everything so that everything remained the same. Given the type of company and the statute of the branch, I was expecting the usual alienating assembly line situations, barely disguised with some new age ritual designed to make everyone forget that it was always a matter of busting one's ass so that someone else could make money.
I agreed on the compensation and the schedule of appointments, and a week later I was in the field. I approached that first day of work with the overwhelming enthusiasm of an elephant forced to stand on a stool while the children all around laugh and swallow popcorn. And yet, as the hours passed, I realized that my prejudices were unfair.
That group worked! There was great cohesion, and individual talents were valued in a climate of mutual respect. We worked hard and there was competition, but cloaked in a sense of belonging that dissolved conflicts. Even rarer still, women and men worked side by side without any trace of prevarication or sexism. I was inside a chapter of an essay on perfect team-working, and each page was a delightful surprise.
Even more remarkable, this strong team spirit was not achieved at the cost of exhausting training and retreats. None of these employees had had to go to the top of some hill in Brescia to shoot colored balls at their colleague, nor had they had to jump out of their chairs with their hands folded and their eyes closed, hoping that someone would grab them.
The harmony of this group was the result of disarming normality.
"If we have a problem, we'll talk to the director about it, and the problem is solved!" a security officer told me during the ritual interview.
"Last year we had a small transition crisis, but the director got his hands on it and we almost doubled our turnover," added a colleague from quality control.
"The director cares about our safety. He reviews the equipment and instrumentation every week" was the chorus that stood out from the production workers.
It seemed as if everything good in that branch was an effect of the director's work, direct or indirect. Seldom had I seen a centralized leadership model work so harmoniously, yet that almost medieval structure, with a single King of the Castle taking care of all the inhabitants, seemed to make everyone happy.
It took me less than two weeks to make all the appropriate evaluations, alternating interviews and questionnaires with direct observations. When I had completed my final report, I called the director's assistant, informing her that she was ready to discuss the results.
"The director would very much appreciate having you for dinner, so that we can discuss your report without excessive pressure or time constraints, if you don't mind."
I felt dizzy in the face of that explicit message of seduction. All the sexism that seemed absent in the company now fell on me enclosed in that message, uttered in a flat voice by his secretary.
"The manager added that, should it be a problem for you, he's available to meet you at breakfast, at the office."
It was difficult to establish whether this was a real alternative or rather a backward march, a convenient way out that the director had prepared himself to parry the possible repercussions of my refusal.
At that point I was determined to expose the deception of that phony philanthropist, and bring out his true nature. I hated being mocked, and while the illusion of the perfect world I had seen in those weeks crumbled under the weight of the sexual invitation, I had a dark determination to fuck it all up.
"No, tell the warden I'll be there. Get me the time and address. Does the warden want me to wear something special?" I asked. At that point I wanted him to know, to feel the bite of my provocation. I wanted him to play cards up and reveal the filth hidden beneath the crystalline facade.
"One moment, please," he replied, before inserting a little waiting music.
"The director trusts his good taste." I felt the click of the receiver, and I was alone with my doubts and my rage splinters.
The next day, I was determined to turn myself into a sharp weapon of seduction. I spent the morning at the hairdresser, and the afternoon at the beautician. I had a relaxing massage around six, then prepared myself for the meeting.
I chose a short pale pink dress whose bottom was a flutter of petals. It was so transparent that, in the right light, I would appear completely naked. I decided not to wear a bra, letting my nipples wink from behind the thin veil of the dress, and chose a thong consisting of a string of pearls on the back and a microscopic layer of light lace on the front.
The lace was very thin, and allowed a glimpse of the soft, thin strip of dark hair, in a play of concentric transparencies.
I placed a wise dose of Chanel rouge on the lips, and carefully drew the outline of the eyes.
I contemplated myself in the mirror. The red hair, softened by the crease, swayed around the thin straps of the dress, languidly caressing my back and shoulders. My high, small, firm breasts gave my figure that adolescent touch for which many men went mad and my legs soaring over heels, giving my posture, shaped by years of ballet, a touch of sensual coquetry.
I was ready.
The taxi dropped me off at the entrance to the Hotel Savoie. I checked in and announced myself to my guest.
"I am told that you are expected in the suite on the top floor," said the concierge, pointing to me with a nod of his arm at one of the elevators, "allow one of our bellboys to accompany you."
Dinner in the room, then! Apparently the warden was anxious to hear my report...
I smiled at the concierge and walked towards the elevator. I felt a growing tension, mixed with anger, as I watched the floors light up on the painting. The sexting man accompanying me dared a couple of shy pleasantries, but withdrew when he realized that I was not in the mood for conversation. He merely made his way with a strutting air, leading me along the corridor studded with mirrors.
He stopped in front of a wooden door, painted in a cream-coloured paint that seemed old-fashioned to me.
"You're welcome," he said, snapping the lock and moving aside to let me in. I smiled at him and stretched out a note, a sort of peace calumet worth ten euros, with which I apologized for being a bitch.
The boy smiled and walked away.
I went into the big room. A couple of sconces scattered a dim light that illuminated a less old-fashioned piece of furniture outside. I noticed a double and a half bed on the left, still perfectly made, and a Jacuzzi on the opposite wall. A Kartel sofa with a Plexiglas skeleton and soft Nordic blue cushions was placed at an angle to the window, while there was a flat screen, forty-two inches eye and cross, on the opposite wall.
My guest sat at the large desk almost in the middle of the room, with a smile on his face. I rolled my eyes, incredulous.
"Sonya?"
"Hi, Prof."
He stood up and ran towards me, holding me in a warm embrace and kissing my cheeks.
Sonya had been my student at the Master in Business Coaching that I had directed in Rome on behalf of an American University, in the two-year period between 2010 and 2012. She was one of the brightest students I had ever met. The irreverent curiosity of her questions and the sharpness of her answers had made her one of the driving forces behind the group that, except for her, had proved to be rather passive and difficult to motivate. The others had recognized her as a natural leader, and I, too, unconsciously, at least at first, had ended up counting on her, turning her into a sort of "deputy". Our implicit pact was visible to everyone, but no one complained about it, also because Sonya knew how to share with others and preferred to win together than shine alone. It was not difficult for me to see in today's extraordinary leader the traces of the promise he was then. I returned the embrace with energy. Sonya stood over me with her six-foot seventy-five, short sand-colored hair framing a masculine face, but not without a certain charm, especially those immense blue eyes that always seemed lost in some dream visible only to her.
Her broad shoulders and arms, made sculptural by the crossfit she practiced with obsessive perseverance already at the time of the Master, and which she had apparently not abandoned, gave her an air of flexuous power, sheathed in a tight little black dress that made her perfect tone stand out. Her muscular calves were flickering from underneath her dress. I pulled away to admire her.
"You look beautiful!" I exclaimed.
"Look who's talking! "If you knew how many comments I had to listen to every time you walked into the courtroom..."
"You really had me fooled with this dinner invitation thing... I was expecting the usual drooling cokehead, and instead I got you."
"A little joke, to pay you back for all the times you made me feel like an idiot listening to you."
"You've never been a moron," I screened myself.
"Well, coming to your classes was a bath of humility. Everything I thought I knew was crumbling, and I felt small."
"I'd say you've grown big," I replied, hinting at the magnificence of the room.
"I've had a couple of ass-kickings here and there," he smiled, and hugged me again. She had a delicious scent that tasted like roses and almonds. I was surprised by its warmth. It wasn't because I didn't find it authentic, because I knew how much he always esteemed me. However, in the years I had known her, she had always seemed to me a cheerful and vivacious girl, but not very prone to physical contact and a bit cold in giving inches of closeness. I had never seen her hugging or letting herself be hugged, unlike her classmates who seemed much more relaxed. Even during social events such as aperitifs or group dinners, during which many students let themselves go and even the most shy ones found themselves daring (I had found myself on more than one occasion a few hands close to my ass during group dances) Sonya loved to stand aside, sipping a Mojito and enjoying the festive atmosphere from a safe distance.
Yet, she continued to hug and caress me as if we were close.
His touch produced strange ripples in my emotions, a sort of thrill of disturbing familiarity. I had seen this girl begin her professional life, I had shaped her and supported her, and now she was before my eyes, blossoming. Done.
Contemplating her success was like mirroring myself in a younger, fresher me, a part of me that had matured elsewhere, with wonderful results.
"You really are wonderful."
I said it in a whisper, more to myself than to her. I was bewitched by how the magnificence of what she had achieved had not at all affected that innocent freshness that still dwelt in her eyes and smile. I had taken care of a precious chrysalis, now I could admire the splendid butterfly that had sprung from it.
I stroked her arm, and I noticed that she had goose bumps.
"All this time, every time I had to make a decision, I wondered what you would do," she replied with an adoring smile.
"I'm so glad you made it!"
"It wasn't always easy. I hit a few dead ends. I had tried to get into the university, but I found many closed doors. Maybe I wasn't right for it."
"I read something of yours, it was very good instead. I'm sure in time you would have carved out an important space for yourself," I added. My voice sounded hoarse.
"Well," he said, going to sit down on the sofa, "I wrote a couple of articles, attended some conferences... but it wasn't for me. Too many asses to kiss. "
"You could have come to me."
"Kiss your ass"? Interesting offer..." he said, bursting out laughing.
"Screwed!" I took her back, sat down next to her and gave her a playful slap on the lips.
"But..." she looked at me, leaving the sentence hanging.
"What?"
"I missed you. There were so many times I wished for your guidance."
"You did great - I said - you even became my boss!"
"Only till morning" he muttered, as if lost in some back alley of his thoughts.
"Well, let's not waste time, then - I answered in a tone that she wanted to appear practical - do you want my report?"
He gave me a serious look.
"Yes, please."
"All right - I started, as I opened my 24 hours and pulled the envelope out - I did an analysis..."
"Not here - interrupted me in a peremptory tone - go to the desk, please."
I stared at her for a moment without understanding.
"Go to the desk," she repeated, spelling out the words.
I got up from the sofa, dazed, and began to walk.
"Move slowly. I want to look at you."
A switch, buried deep in my guts, turned on. I slowed my pace, accentuating the movement of my hips and ass. Not conspicuously, just a little. I reached the desk.
"Now sit down."
I obeyed, turning the chair towards her to face her.
I began to read, keeping a flat tone of voice.
I crossed my legs, as slowly as she had asked, offering her for a moment the sight of my naked thighs and the thin strip of fabric between them.
I felt her blue gaze flow over me.
"It's no good," she said.
"What, the relationship?" I felt slowed down and confused, like I was drunk.
She didn't answer. He got up, coming towards me at a slow pace. He wouldn't take his eyes off me, and I felt a thick heat coming through me, as if someone had poured liquor down my throat.
He reached out to me. I grabbed it, tasting with my fingertips the delicacy of her fingers. She helped me up, and with a slight pressure on my hips made me turn towards the desk. She took the report from my hands and placed it on the mahogany surface.
"Now read it," he said.
I carried out his command, resuming reading the report in an increasingly broken voice. My legs were trembling, under a tension that almost frightened me.
"The degree of satisfaction expressed by the participants in the questionnaire..."
I stopped. I felt her caress on my hair, shoulders and back. As if guided by a will that was external and superior to my own, I began to wriggle in an attempt to offer his hand as much skin as I could.
"All that time," he said, "I was watching you. I admired your confidence, your elegance, your boundless class. All that time I wanted nothing more than to be you."
"Aaaahh" moaned as his hands slid down his hips.
"Don't stop reading," he ordered, and as hard as it was, I endeavored to obey.
"The score on the first index..." I was unraveling figures and indicators, but my mind was elsewhere, dragged into the whirlpool of that unexplored bond and yet, I was only now realizing it, always present. Her caress possessed the affectionate delicacy of a younger sister, but there was something imperious about the way her voice dominated me. I felt her power over me, exercised with a grace and love that disturbed me and at the same time prevented even the slightest rebellion.
"In time, I realized that being you is impossible." I felt her fingers play with the straps of my dress for a few moments, then I found myself naked. The string of pearls running up my buttocks was the only barrier between me and her.
I felt myself caressing her thighs, hips and ass, with an intoxicating delicacy. No one had ever touched me with this mixture of veneration and possession. Still moaning.
"The only thing I could do was try to make you proud of me. "I've lived all these years with only the desire to attract your gaze..."
"I've never stopped caring about you," I whispered, bending my head back in the hope of meeting your beautiful blue eyes.
"Read, I said," and accompanied that order with a light but firm pressure on my back, which forced me to bend forward. I went back to reading the report.
He grabbed my thighs with his athlete's hands and opened my legs. He knelt down behind me. I felt his lips touching my buttocks, then his tongue playing along the profile of the pearls. He tasted each ball and made me feel his warm, wet breath. I felt the pleasure flow from my pussy along her thighs, but I made an effort to continue reading the document, as she had asked.
"Haven't you ever wondered why I stood on the sidelines at parties? Because any look other than yours disgusted me. "Whatever touch was not yours was bound to disappoint me. I spent those two years dreaming of a moment like this."
With a delicate gesture, he moved the string of pearls, and began to caress my pussy, gathering his lips in his palm, as if he had the forbidden fruit of Eve in his hands. He opened them gently with his fingers, and began to pull my clitoris.
"Honey..." I said. I felt so loved at that moment that I felt my heart expand to make room for that new and unexpected feeling. I began to move my pelvis to better receive her caresses. Holding the string of pearls with his thumb, he grabbed my buttocks with both hands, spreading them, and slipped his tongue between them. I felt the burning caress of her mouth in my pussy and ass, and I pushed myself backwards to let it penetrate me. I wanted every inch of that tongue inside me, I couldn't bear the slightest distance between us.
"Aaaaahh, go on..."
"You read," he said, returning me to the task he had assigned me, before diving back into my orifices, working them ruthlessly slowly. Powerless victim of the assault of that wonderful and cruel mouth, I came for the first time, pouring my dense and warm moods over her face. Sonya rose up, making me turn around. She was beautiful. Droplets of my pleasure were running down her face and her lips were swollen and flushed with excitement and rubbing. She kissed me with eagerness. I opened myself without hesitation upon contact with her mouth, soaked with my scent, tasting myself on her tongue, clutching myself to her and letting my hands search everywhere. She took off my thong and threw it on the floor with an almost angry gesture.
"This way," she said.
She grabbed me by the hair, dragging me to the wall. I shuddered at the cold contact of the wall against my naked back, and then I felt myself being lifted like a twig. Sonya had grabbed me by the buttocks and, using the impressive strength she had gained sweating in the gym every day, she had lifted me up until my pussy was at the height of her lips. I stood there, lifted off the floor, my legs wide open and my pussy pressed against her face, and let myself be licked again and again. She seemed to possess an inexhaustible thirst for me. I grabbed her short blonde hair with both hands, inviting her to penetrate me deeper and deeper. She started to fuck me with her tongue, pounding back and forth inside me with rhythmic, deep thrusts. Every time she pulled it out, I felt a tearing sense of loss, as if the most alive and precious part of me was being ripped away. Then I would squeeze and push, tending to get it back, moaning with pleasure and begging her to give me more.
Her eyes nailed to mine as she licked me with ever greater fury, and the combination of her hungry mouth and her blue irises on me made me surrender again. I came again, stronger and longer than before. I shouted my pleasure at the empty walls and flocked to her.
She made me come down slowly, took me in her arms and headed for the bed.
She bore my weight effortlessly, but there was nothing manly about her power. She was female, beautiful and sweet, and loved me with a strength that few men had shown. She protected me and dominated me at the same time, and I wanted nothing more than to be hers. She laid me on the bed with the delicacy she would have used if I had been a porcelain vase. I lay under her and began to kiss her, looking for her with my lips and tongue. Her taste inebriated me as her hands grabbed my breasts, running my nipples through my fingers. I felt them hardening under her fingertips, responding to those urges as if they had waited for nothing else. I began to look for her with my hands, slipping over her, slipping under the short sheath to catch remnants of her skin.
She took off her dress in one decisive gesture. She was wearing nothing underneath. I could admire her muscular yet graceful body, sculpted abs and small, toned breasts. Her nipples were a light pink that went well with the milky whiteness of her skin. I stroked her neck, breasts and abdomen. I touched the areolas with my fingers, then lifted myself on my elbows to kiss her nipples. It was strange to feel those soft appendages between my lips, to find myself at the other end of that gesture I knew so well.
Sonya gently pushed me backwards and straddled me, carrying my pussy to the level of my lips.
"Lick me," she said, as she held my head still with one hand.
I had never had another woman's sex in my mouth before. I'd exchanged a few kisses and a couple of fizzy little touches with a college friend a while back, but I'd never gone further.
Yet, at that moment, immobilized underneath her, with her powerful hand stuck in my hair, opening my mouth for her seemed the most natural thing in the world. I let in her soft flesh, not at all bothered by the soft layer of blonde hair around her, and began to lick, languid. Hearing her moods invade me to tears of pleasure. I sucked her clitoris, imprisoning it between her lips and exploring it with my tongue, subdued to her grip, encouraged by the growing moans coming out of her mouth.
"Oooh yes... so... good..." she said as she stroked my hair, synchronizing with the rhythm of my licks, which in the meantime became greedier and more impatient. She treated me like her good little dog, and at that instant I wanted to be nothing else.
I heard her come into my mouth, with a thunderous roar coming from her bowels, which made us both vibrate. I felt happy and proud to give her that pleasure.
She fell down on me. I held her in my arms, kissing her face and lips, laughing with her, sharing that intimate moment of joy with voracious greed, as if it could dissipate at any moment.
"I adore you," I whispered in her ear, and she replied with a caress on my cheek that made me sigh.
"Stay here," she said, struggling to get up.
I watched her walk over to the desk. She went around the table, and opened a drawer. She pulled out a long strap-on with black leather buckles. I watched how hypnotized she was by this latex phallus, which appeared overly large and knotty. With the enormous artificial dick in his hands, he came back to lie by my side, caressing my face.
"Sonya..." I began to say, with a torn expression on my face.
"What?"
"I don't think... I never..."
"Don't worry," he said, kissing me softly on the lips.
"No, it's just that I'm not..." I stopped. I didn't know how to express what I wanted without hurting her.
"Lesbian? Neither did I. I've only ever had men, but I've been in love with you since the first day I saw you. This - he said, showing me the strap-on - I bought it two years ago, and I've never used it. I waited for you. Only you."
I bit my lip, pink from indecision. I had never felt any attraction for that kind of practice, on the contrary, I always felt a vague repulsion when I observed scenes involving those objects. It seemed to me a clumsy replica of something that had an entirely different meaning. However, I found myself lying with Sonya blandly and caressing me, and that perverse thrill that had crept under my skin from the very first moment pushed me to give her everything she wanted.
"I..."
"Please," he said, and he caught me with his own eyes. Staring at them was like looking at the clear winter morning sky, cold, stinging and yet boundless in its beauty.
I surrendered. I kissed her again, as she caressed my pussy, spreading my moods all over the opening. She stood over me, beginning to stare at the buckles along my hips and never stopped looking at me.
"Turn around," he ordered.
Hesitating, I obeyed. I lay beneath her, waiting. I felt a strange anticipatory anxiety growing inside me, and at that moment I was a virgin, untouched and untouched. It was a terrible and wonderful feeling.
I felt myself grasping by the hair again, and I let myself be lifted. Sonya kissed my neck from behind, groping my breasts and pussy with such passion that I almost came again.
She pushed me forward, set me ninety degrees in front of her. I was exposed, helpless, ready for her.
I felt a hand resting on my ass, then I felt the heat of penetration. I felt myself opening and filling as her gentle pushes intensified and grew in rhythm.
She was different from a male. Men were fucking me driven by the impulses that the cock, squeezed between the walls of my vagina, transmitted to them. They followed some instinct rooted in their Y chromosome, listening to their sexual pleasure. Even the most sensitive and attentive could not escape the call of their own biology, which dictated rhythms, times and ways of that dance. Sonya was fucking me in the grip of the dreams and fantasies she had cultivated during those years. She was taking possession of me by following my solicitations, immersing herself in that bond that united us. She could be rough, powerful, but also sweet, she made me feel that cock inside as if it belonged to both of us.
The sense of annoyance I felt in contact with latex was suffocated, overwhelmed by the waves of pleasure that that moment of sexual telepathy gave me.
"Aaaah... take me love, like this..."
My moans and my invitations lit her up, igniting her desire and pushing her to penetrate me deeper and with greater intensity.
"God, how long I've been dreaming about this ass!" she said, and started slapping my buttocks.
"Aaah!"
"You like that, bitch? You like getting spanked by your student?"
"Yes, I like to get fucked by my best pupil!" I shouted, accepting her punishment. My surrender excited her, making her dirtier and bolder. I felt myself grasping by the hair and arching her back, offering her everything she desired. I felt her thumb resting on my sphincter. She whipped it for a few moments, smearing the moods dripping from my open pussy, then penetrated it deeply and firmly. I screamed again.
"What about this? Do you like this one too?"
"You can do whatever the fuck you want to me."
He pushed his knotty thumb even deeper into me, snatching a wild grunt of pleasure from me. I stretched my arm backwards, and planted my nails in her thigh, sinking into those marble muscles with all the strength I had. I desperately needed to tie my pleasure to hers.
Without interrupting the penetration, she barely lifted me, lying under me to allow me to ride her from above. Always giving her my back, I impaled myself deeply on her, offering her my ass to slap again, as I was sure she wished. She wouldn't let me pray, hitting me hard as she carried me to the top. She gave powerful strokes of the pelvis, dictating the rhythm of those last pushes, she too prey to an almost unbearable pleasure. I could hear her moaning, screaming and whispering dirty words as she gave me her last lunges.
I screamed when the last, unsettling orgasm struck me, unleashing moods that enveloped the latex pole and wet Sonya's tense abdomen. She came too, almost in unison, intensifying the grip on my buttocks and then suddenly left her exhausted.
I lay down on her, letting myself go into her embrace.
I could feel her kisses everywhere, warm and sweet.
"Thank you" whispered in my ear, and in that instant of intense happiness I felt I loved her in a way I had never felt before. I knew that the next day we would each be holed up in our own lives, keeping the secret of that unrepeatable moment, but tonight I decided to give in to the adoration I felt for that fragment of heart found, responding to those kisses with enthusiasm and passion.
I detached myself from her to imprint in my memory the memory of those wonderful irises, then smiles.
"I haven't eaten yet, Warden, what about you?"
His laughter echoed in the room like the sweetest of melodies...
Trapped in a marriage with a man whom I despised and at the mercy of a lover who would not decide to kidnap me once and for all, I found vague and ephemeral consolations in stories of a night that I built up in my mind to make them acceptable to my body, usually demanding and fickle. I wanted to give myself away, sell myself to feel an emotion, but everything lasted as long as a condom bought at a distributor.
It was because of this sense of futility that I accepted an assignment for which I no longer felt suited. It was a work-related stress assessment for the Italian branch of a well-known multinational electronics company. Since I had specialized in corporate coaching, I didn't often get called for this kind of situation, and to be honest I found them boring and quite useless. It was all about telling the head office manager what he hated to hear, negotiating the formal aspects and producing as superficial a final report as possible, and in the cat's eye the misunderstanding of changing everything so that everything remained the same. Given the type of company and the statute of the branch, I was expecting the usual alienating assembly line situations, barely disguised with some new age ritual designed to make everyone forget that it was always a matter of busting one's ass so that someone else could make money.
I agreed on the compensation and the schedule of appointments, and a week later I was in the field. I approached that first day of work with the overwhelming enthusiasm of an elephant forced to stand on a stool while the children all around laugh and swallow popcorn. And yet, as the hours passed, I realized that my prejudices were unfair.
That group worked! There was great cohesion, and individual talents were valued in a climate of mutual respect. We worked hard and there was competition, but cloaked in a sense of belonging that dissolved conflicts. Even rarer still, women and men worked side by side without any trace of prevarication or sexism. I was inside a chapter of an essay on perfect team-working, and each page was a delightful surprise.
Even more remarkable, this strong team spirit was not achieved at the cost of exhausting training and retreats. None of these employees had had to go to the top of some hill in Brescia to shoot colored balls at their colleague, nor had they had to jump out of their chairs with their hands folded and their eyes closed, hoping that someone would grab them.
The harmony of this group was the result of disarming normality.
"If we have a problem, we'll talk to the director about it, and the problem is solved!" a security officer told me during the ritual interview.
"Last year we had a small transition crisis, but the director got his hands on it and we almost doubled our turnover," added a colleague from quality control.
"The director cares about our safety. He reviews the equipment and instrumentation every week" was the chorus that stood out from the production workers.
It seemed as if everything good in that branch was an effect of the director's work, direct or indirect. Seldom had I seen a centralized leadership model work so harmoniously, yet that almost medieval structure, with a single King of the Castle taking care of all the inhabitants, seemed to make everyone happy.
It took me less than two weeks to make all the appropriate evaluations, alternating interviews and questionnaires with direct observations. When I had completed my final report, I called the director's assistant, informing her that she was ready to discuss the results.
"The director would very much appreciate having you for dinner, so that we can discuss your report without excessive pressure or time constraints, if you don't mind."
I felt dizzy in the face of that explicit message of seduction. All the sexism that seemed absent in the company now fell on me enclosed in that message, uttered in a flat voice by his secretary.
"The manager added that, should it be a problem for you, he's available to meet you at breakfast, at the office."
It was difficult to establish whether this was a real alternative or rather a backward march, a convenient way out that the director had prepared himself to parry the possible repercussions of my refusal.
At that point I was determined to expose the deception of that phony philanthropist, and bring out his true nature. I hated being mocked, and while the illusion of the perfect world I had seen in those weeks crumbled under the weight of the sexual invitation, I had a dark determination to fuck it all up.
"No, tell the warden I'll be there. Get me the time and address. Does the warden want me to wear something special?" I asked. At that point I wanted him to know, to feel the bite of my provocation. I wanted him to play cards up and reveal the filth hidden beneath the crystalline facade.
"One moment, please," he replied, before inserting a little waiting music.
"The director trusts his good taste." I felt the click of the receiver, and I was alone with my doubts and my rage splinters.
The next day, I was determined to turn myself into a sharp weapon of seduction. I spent the morning at the hairdresser, and the afternoon at the beautician. I had a relaxing massage around six, then prepared myself for the meeting.
I chose a short pale pink dress whose bottom was a flutter of petals. It was so transparent that, in the right light, I would appear completely naked. I decided not to wear a bra, letting my nipples wink from behind the thin veil of the dress, and chose a thong consisting of a string of pearls on the back and a microscopic layer of light lace on the front.
The lace was very thin, and allowed a glimpse of the soft, thin strip of dark hair, in a play of concentric transparencies.
I placed a wise dose of Chanel rouge on the lips, and carefully drew the outline of the eyes.
I contemplated myself in the mirror. The red hair, softened by the crease, swayed around the thin straps of the dress, languidly caressing my back and shoulders. My high, small, firm breasts gave my figure that adolescent touch for which many men went mad and my legs soaring over heels, giving my posture, shaped by years of ballet, a touch of sensual coquetry.
I was ready.
The taxi dropped me off at the entrance to the Hotel Savoie. I checked in and announced myself to my guest.
"I am told that you are expected in the suite on the top floor," said the concierge, pointing to me with a nod of his arm at one of the elevators, "allow one of our bellboys to accompany you."
Dinner in the room, then! Apparently the warden was anxious to hear my report...
I smiled at the concierge and walked towards the elevator. I felt a growing tension, mixed with anger, as I watched the floors light up on the painting. The sexting man accompanying me dared a couple of shy pleasantries, but withdrew when he realized that I was not in the mood for conversation. He merely made his way with a strutting air, leading me along the corridor studded with mirrors.
He stopped in front of a wooden door, painted in a cream-coloured paint that seemed old-fashioned to me.
"You're welcome," he said, snapping the lock and moving aside to let me in. I smiled at him and stretched out a note, a sort of peace calumet worth ten euros, with which I apologized for being a bitch.
The boy smiled and walked away.
I went into the big room. A couple of sconces scattered a dim light that illuminated a less old-fashioned piece of furniture outside. I noticed a double and a half bed on the left, still perfectly made, and a Jacuzzi on the opposite wall. A Kartel sofa with a Plexiglas skeleton and soft Nordic blue cushions was placed at an angle to the window, while there was a flat screen, forty-two inches eye and cross, on the opposite wall.
My guest sat at the large desk almost in the middle of the room, with a smile on his face. I rolled my eyes, incredulous.
"Sonya?"
"Hi, Prof."
He stood up and ran towards me, holding me in a warm embrace and kissing my cheeks.
Sonya had been my student at the Master in Business Coaching that I had directed in Rome on behalf of an American University, in the two-year period between 2010 and 2012. She was one of the brightest students I had ever met. The irreverent curiosity of her questions and the sharpness of her answers had made her one of the driving forces behind the group that, except for her, had proved to be rather passive and difficult to motivate. The others had recognized her as a natural leader, and I, too, unconsciously, at least at first, had ended up counting on her, turning her into a sort of "deputy". Our implicit pact was visible to everyone, but no one complained about it, also because Sonya knew how to share with others and preferred to win together than shine alone. It was not difficult for me to see in today's extraordinary leader the traces of the promise he was then. I returned the embrace with energy. Sonya stood over me with her six-foot seventy-five, short sand-colored hair framing a masculine face, but not without a certain charm, especially those immense blue eyes that always seemed lost in some dream visible only to her.
Her broad shoulders and arms, made sculptural by the crossfit she practiced with obsessive perseverance already at the time of the Master, and which she had apparently not abandoned, gave her an air of flexuous power, sheathed in a tight little black dress that made her perfect tone stand out. Her muscular calves were flickering from underneath her dress. I pulled away to admire her.
"You look beautiful!" I exclaimed.
"Look who's talking! "If you knew how many comments I had to listen to every time you walked into the courtroom..."
"You really had me fooled with this dinner invitation thing... I was expecting the usual drooling cokehead, and instead I got you."
"A little joke, to pay you back for all the times you made me feel like an idiot listening to you."
"You've never been a moron," I screened myself.
"Well, coming to your classes was a bath of humility. Everything I thought I knew was crumbling, and I felt small."
"I'd say you've grown big," I replied, hinting at the magnificence of the room.
"I've had a couple of ass-kickings here and there," he smiled, and hugged me again. She had a delicious scent that tasted like roses and almonds. I was surprised by its warmth. It wasn't because I didn't find it authentic, because I knew how much he always esteemed me. However, in the years I had known her, she had always seemed to me a cheerful and vivacious girl, but not very prone to physical contact and a bit cold in giving inches of closeness. I had never seen her hugging or letting herself be hugged, unlike her classmates who seemed much more relaxed. Even during social events such as aperitifs or group dinners, during which many students let themselves go and even the most shy ones found themselves daring (I had found myself on more than one occasion a few hands close to my ass during group dances) Sonya loved to stand aside, sipping a Mojito and enjoying the festive atmosphere from a safe distance.
Yet, she continued to hug and caress me as if we were close.
His touch produced strange ripples in my emotions, a sort of thrill of disturbing familiarity. I had seen this girl begin her professional life, I had shaped her and supported her, and now she was before my eyes, blossoming. Done.
Contemplating her success was like mirroring myself in a younger, fresher me, a part of me that had matured elsewhere, with wonderful results.
"You really are wonderful."
I said it in a whisper, more to myself than to her. I was bewitched by how the magnificence of what she had achieved had not at all affected that innocent freshness that still dwelt in her eyes and smile. I had taken care of a precious chrysalis, now I could admire the splendid butterfly that had sprung from it.
I stroked her arm, and I noticed that she had goose bumps.
"All this time, every time I had to make a decision, I wondered what you would do," she replied with an adoring smile.
"I'm so glad you made it!"
"It wasn't always easy. I hit a few dead ends. I had tried to get into the university, but I found many closed doors. Maybe I wasn't right for it."
"I read something of yours, it was very good instead. I'm sure in time you would have carved out an important space for yourself," I added. My voice sounded hoarse.
"Well," he said, going to sit down on the sofa, "I wrote a couple of articles, attended some conferences... but it wasn't for me. Too many asses to kiss. "
"You could have come to me."
"Kiss your ass"? Interesting offer..." he said, bursting out laughing.
"Screwed!" I took her back, sat down next to her and gave her a playful slap on the lips.
"But..." she looked at me, leaving the sentence hanging.
"What?"
"I missed you. There were so many times I wished for your guidance."
"You did great - I said - you even became my boss!"
"Only till morning" he muttered, as if lost in some back alley of his thoughts.
"Well, let's not waste time, then - I answered in a tone that she wanted to appear practical - do you want my report?"
He gave me a serious look.
"Yes, please."
"All right - I started, as I opened my 24 hours and pulled the envelope out - I did an analysis..."
"Not here - interrupted me in a peremptory tone - go to the desk, please."
I stared at her for a moment without understanding.
"Go to the desk," she repeated, spelling out the words.
I got up from the sofa, dazed, and began to walk.
"Move slowly. I want to look at you."
A switch, buried deep in my guts, turned on. I slowed my pace, accentuating the movement of my hips and ass. Not conspicuously, just a little. I reached the desk.
"Now sit down."
I obeyed, turning the chair towards her to face her.
I began to read, keeping a flat tone of voice.
I crossed my legs, as slowly as she had asked, offering her for a moment the sight of my naked thighs and the thin strip of fabric between them.
I felt her blue gaze flow over me.
"It's no good," she said.
"What, the relationship?" I felt slowed down and confused, like I was drunk.
She didn't answer. He got up, coming towards me at a slow pace. He wouldn't take his eyes off me, and I felt a thick heat coming through me, as if someone had poured liquor down my throat.
He reached out to me. I grabbed it, tasting with my fingertips the delicacy of her fingers. She helped me up, and with a slight pressure on my hips made me turn towards the desk. She took the report from my hands and placed it on the mahogany surface.
"Now read it," he said.
I carried out his command, resuming reading the report in an increasingly broken voice. My legs were trembling, under a tension that almost frightened me.
"The degree of satisfaction expressed by the participants in the questionnaire..."
I stopped. I felt her caress on my hair, shoulders and back. As if guided by a will that was external and superior to my own, I began to wriggle in an attempt to offer his hand as much skin as I could.
"All that time," he said, "I was watching you. I admired your confidence, your elegance, your boundless class. All that time I wanted nothing more than to be you."
"Aaaahh" moaned as his hands slid down his hips.
"Don't stop reading," he ordered, and as hard as it was, I endeavored to obey.
"The score on the first index..." I was unraveling figures and indicators, but my mind was elsewhere, dragged into the whirlpool of that unexplored bond and yet, I was only now realizing it, always present. Her caress possessed the affectionate delicacy of a younger sister, but there was something imperious about the way her voice dominated me. I felt her power over me, exercised with a grace and love that disturbed me and at the same time prevented even the slightest rebellion.
"In time, I realized that being you is impossible." I felt her fingers play with the straps of my dress for a few moments, then I found myself naked. The string of pearls running up my buttocks was the only barrier between me and her.
I felt myself caressing her thighs, hips and ass, with an intoxicating delicacy. No one had ever touched me with this mixture of veneration and possession. Still moaning.
"The only thing I could do was try to make you proud of me. "I've lived all these years with only the desire to attract your gaze..."
"I've never stopped caring about you," I whispered, bending my head back in the hope of meeting your beautiful blue eyes.
"Read, I said," and accompanied that order with a light but firm pressure on my back, which forced me to bend forward. I went back to reading the report.
He grabbed my thighs with his athlete's hands and opened my legs. He knelt down behind me. I felt his lips touching my buttocks, then his tongue playing along the profile of the pearls. He tasted each ball and made me feel his warm, wet breath. I felt the pleasure flow from my pussy along her thighs, but I made an effort to continue reading the document, as she had asked.
"Haven't you ever wondered why I stood on the sidelines at parties? Because any look other than yours disgusted me. "Whatever touch was not yours was bound to disappoint me. I spent those two years dreaming of a moment like this."
With a delicate gesture, he moved the string of pearls, and began to caress my pussy, gathering his lips in his palm, as if he had the forbidden fruit of Eve in his hands. He opened them gently with his fingers, and began to pull my clitoris.
"Honey..." I said. I felt so loved at that moment that I felt my heart expand to make room for that new and unexpected feeling. I began to move my pelvis to better receive her caresses. Holding the string of pearls with his thumb, he grabbed my buttocks with both hands, spreading them, and slipped his tongue between them. I felt the burning caress of her mouth in my pussy and ass, and I pushed myself backwards to let it penetrate me. I wanted every inch of that tongue inside me, I couldn't bear the slightest distance between us.
"Aaaaahh, go on..."
"You read," he said, returning me to the task he had assigned me, before diving back into my orifices, working them ruthlessly slowly. Powerless victim of the assault of that wonderful and cruel mouth, I came for the first time, pouring my dense and warm moods over her face. Sonya rose up, making me turn around. She was beautiful. Droplets of my pleasure were running down her face and her lips were swollen and flushed with excitement and rubbing. She kissed me with eagerness. I opened myself without hesitation upon contact with her mouth, soaked with my scent, tasting myself on her tongue, clutching myself to her and letting my hands search everywhere. She took off my thong and threw it on the floor with an almost angry gesture.
"This way," she said.
She grabbed me by the hair, dragging me to the wall. I shuddered at the cold contact of the wall against my naked back, and then I felt myself being lifted like a twig. Sonya had grabbed me by the buttocks and, using the impressive strength she had gained sweating in the gym every day, she had lifted me up until my pussy was at the height of her lips. I stood there, lifted off the floor, my legs wide open and my pussy pressed against her face, and let myself be licked again and again. She seemed to possess an inexhaustible thirst for me. I grabbed her short blonde hair with both hands, inviting her to penetrate me deeper and deeper. She started to fuck me with her tongue, pounding back and forth inside me with rhythmic, deep thrusts. Every time she pulled it out, I felt a tearing sense of loss, as if the most alive and precious part of me was being ripped away. Then I would squeeze and push, tending to get it back, moaning with pleasure and begging her to give me more.
Her eyes nailed to mine as she licked me with ever greater fury, and the combination of her hungry mouth and her blue irises on me made me surrender again. I came again, stronger and longer than before. I shouted my pleasure at the empty walls and flocked to her.
She made me come down slowly, took me in her arms and headed for the bed.
She bore my weight effortlessly, but there was nothing manly about her power. She was female, beautiful and sweet, and loved me with a strength that few men had shown. She protected me and dominated me at the same time, and I wanted nothing more than to be hers. She laid me on the bed with the delicacy she would have used if I had been a porcelain vase. I lay under her and began to kiss her, looking for her with my lips and tongue. Her taste inebriated me as her hands grabbed my breasts, running my nipples through my fingers. I felt them hardening under her fingertips, responding to those urges as if they had waited for nothing else. I began to look for her with my hands, slipping over her, slipping under the short sheath to catch remnants of her skin.
She took off her dress in one decisive gesture. She was wearing nothing underneath. I could admire her muscular yet graceful body, sculpted abs and small, toned breasts. Her nipples were a light pink that went well with the milky whiteness of her skin. I stroked her neck, breasts and abdomen. I touched the areolas with my fingers, then lifted myself on my elbows to kiss her nipples. It was strange to feel those soft appendages between my lips, to find myself at the other end of that gesture I knew so well.
Sonya gently pushed me backwards and straddled me, carrying my pussy to the level of my lips.
"Lick me," she said, as she held my head still with one hand.
I had never had another woman's sex in my mouth before. I'd exchanged a few kisses and a couple of fizzy little touches with a college friend a while back, but I'd never gone further.
Yet, at that moment, immobilized underneath her, with her powerful hand stuck in my hair, opening my mouth for her seemed the most natural thing in the world. I let in her soft flesh, not at all bothered by the soft layer of blonde hair around her, and began to lick, languid. Hearing her moods invade me to tears of pleasure. I sucked her clitoris, imprisoning it between her lips and exploring it with my tongue, subdued to her grip, encouraged by the growing moans coming out of her mouth.
"Oooh yes... so... good..." she said as she stroked my hair, synchronizing with the rhythm of my licks, which in the meantime became greedier and more impatient. She treated me like her good little dog, and at that instant I wanted to be nothing else.
I heard her come into my mouth, with a thunderous roar coming from her bowels, which made us both vibrate. I felt happy and proud to give her that pleasure.
She fell down on me. I held her in my arms, kissing her face and lips, laughing with her, sharing that intimate moment of joy with voracious greed, as if it could dissipate at any moment.
"I adore you," I whispered in her ear, and she replied with a caress on my cheek that made me sigh.
"Stay here," she said, struggling to get up.
I watched her walk over to the desk. She went around the table, and opened a drawer. She pulled out a long strap-on with black leather buckles. I watched how hypnotized she was by this latex phallus, which appeared overly large and knotty. With the enormous artificial dick in his hands, he came back to lie by my side, caressing my face.
"Sonya..." I began to say, with a torn expression on my face.
"What?"
"I don't think... I never..."
"Don't worry," he said, kissing me softly on the lips.
"No, it's just that I'm not..." I stopped. I didn't know how to express what I wanted without hurting her.
"Lesbian? Neither did I. I've only ever had men, but I've been in love with you since the first day I saw you. This - he said, showing me the strap-on - I bought it two years ago, and I've never used it. I waited for you. Only you."
I bit my lip, pink from indecision. I had never felt any attraction for that kind of practice, on the contrary, I always felt a vague repulsion when I observed scenes involving those objects. It seemed to me a clumsy replica of something that had an entirely different meaning. However, I found myself lying with Sonya blandly and caressing me, and that perverse thrill that had crept under my skin from the very first moment pushed me to give her everything she wanted.
"I..."
"Please," he said, and he caught me with his own eyes. Staring at them was like looking at the clear winter morning sky, cold, stinging and yet boundless in its beauty.
I surrendered. I kissed her again, as she caressed my pussy, spreading my moods all over the opening. She stood over me, beginning to stare at the buckles along my hips and never stopped looking at me.
"Turn around," he ordered.
Hesitating, I obeyed. I lay beneath her, waiting. I felt a strange anticipatory anxiety growing inside me, and at that moment I was a virgin, untouched and untouched. It was a terrible and wonderful feeling.
I felt myself grasping by the hair again, and I let myself be lifted. Sonya kissed my neck from behind, groping my breasts and pussy with such passion that I almost came again.
She pushed me forward, set me ninety degrees in front of her. I was exposed, helpless, ready for her.
I felt a hand resting on my ass, then I felt the heat of penetration. I felt myself opening and filling as her gentle pushes intensified and grew in rhythm.
She was different from a male. Men were fucking me driven by the impulses that the cock, squeezed between the walls of my vagina, transmitted to them. They followed some instinct rooted in their Y chromosome, listening to their sexual pleasure. Even the most sensitive and attentive could not escape the call of their own biology, which dictated rhythms, times and ways of that dance. Sonya was fucking me in the grip of the dreams and fantasies she had cultivated during those years. She was taking possession of me by following my solicitations, immersing herself in that bond that united us. She could be rough, powerful, but also sweet, she made me feel that cock inside as if it belonged to both of us.
The sense of annoyance I felt in contact with latex was suffocated, overwhelmed by the waves of pleasure that that moment of sexual telepathy gave me.
"Aaaah... take me love, like this..."
My moans and my invitations lit her up, igniting her desire and pushing her to penetrate me deeper and with greater intensity.
"God, how long I've been dreaming about this ass!" she said, and started slapping my buttocks.
"Aaah!"
"You like that, bitch? You like getting spanked by your student?"
"Yes, I like to get fucked by my best pupil!" I shouted, accepting her punishment. My surrender excited her, making her dirtier and bolder. I felt myself grasping by the hair and arching her back, offering her everything she desired. I felt her thumb resting on my sphincter. She whipped it for a few moments, smearing the moods dripping from my open pussy, then penetrated it deeply and firmly. I screamed again.
"What about this? Do you like this one too?"
"You can do whatever the fuck you want to me."
He pushed his knotty thumb even deeper into me, snatching a wild grunt of pleasure from me. I stretched my arm backwards, and planted my nails in her thigh, sinking into those marble muscles with all the strength I had. I desperately needed to tie my pleasure to hers.
Without interrupting the penetration, she barely lifted me, lying under me to allow me to ride her from above. Always giving her my back, I impaled myself deeply on her, offering her my ass to slap again, as I was sure she wished. She wouldn't let me pray, hitting me hard as she carried me to the top. She gave powerful strokes of the pelvis, dictating the rhythm of those last pushes, she too prey to an almost unbearable pleasure. I could hear her moaning, screaming and whispering dirty words as she gave me her last lunges.
I screamed when the last, unsettling orgasm struck me, unleashing moods that enveloped the latex pole and wet Sonya's tense abdomen. She came too, almost in unison, intensifying the grip on my buttocks and then suddenly left her exhausted.
I lay down on her, letting myself go into her embrace.
I could feel her kisses everywhere, warm and sweet.
"Thank you" whispered in my ear, and in that instant of intense happiness I felt I loved her in a way I had never felt before. I knew that the next day we would each be holed up in our own lives, keeping the secret of that unrepeatable moment, but tonight I decided to give in to the adoration I felt for that fragment of heart found, responding to those kisses with enthusiasm and passion.
I detached myself from her to imprint in my memory the memory of those wonderful irises, then smiles.
"I haven't eaten yet, Warden, what about you?"
His laughter echoed in the room like the sweetest of melodies...
