DON'T SLEEP WITH YOUR BOSS!
By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM
I picked it up on my lunch hour and when I got back, I went to his office. He was on the phone, but I stuck around, bag in hand, hoping it would be brief, so I could give it to him.
"But we had plans tonight!" my boss protested. "We were going to Marcon's, remember?"
He was talking to his wife. I recognized the tone, that of a man who was trying to be reasonable but finding himself stalled. Besides, who else would he be going out with, tonight of all nights?
"I don't want to go to Marcon's when you get back from Chicago!" the boss went on. "And two weeks!" A pause. "I don't care if you'll call me from the airport. I wouldn't care if you call me from the plane! You were supposed to be with me tonight!" Another pause. "Well, hell, then, forget about it. I'll go have my own birthday tonight! Without you!" And he slammed down the receiver.
I realized that this was the wrong moment, as I'm sure you'll agree. I started to back out, but his door was open and he saw me. "What is it, Stuart?'
Nothing for it, I never went to his door unless I needed to talk with him. So I went on in, holding my bag from Barnes & Noble in front of me like a shield. His eyes opened when he saw it and he looked up, smiled. He knew, not a huge surprise, I'd bought him a present for his birthday every year for the past seven years. Ever since I'd started working for him.
Not that it was easy to buy for him. A legal assistant shopping for an attorney is in the literal position of buying for the man who had everything. And you have to be careful what you buy for a boss, you can't pick him up sexy underwear, for example. Not that I didn't dream about that from time to time.
Attorneys who are physically attractive are at an advantage in court. Victor was that and more. Dark brown hair that was practically black, and weekly sessions at the stylist kept every hair in place and well-sculpted. His dentist had cured every defect in his smile and regular cleanings kept them white and gleaming. His eyes were an adorable blue, his cheeks long and with small bump-like ridges at what would be the lower part of his eye sockets, this gave him a friendly, open-to-confidences expression when he smiled. His body he kept in shape by working out in a gym and playing tennis and such, no body-builder, but nice, what I could see of him in his always-fastened shirt, I bet he had that body which is nicely defined but not bulging unduly anywhere. I'd seen him in a t-shirt once, briefly, enough to know that he had more a little body hair.
Okay, I had a bit of the hots for my boss. A lot of people do; I'd never acted on it, not once, I assure you. You don't sleep with your boss if you're smart. But I remembered his birthday without any problems. Every ninth day of June, I would buy him a small present, and he would buy me one in my birthday of August twenty-fifth (of course, I had to write my birthday in the calendar for him on that--his idea and my job to remind him of the things he wanted to remember including my own birthday). But this was his birthday, and to get back to it....
"Happy birthday, Victor." I said. You have to use first names in Southern California, that took some getting used to for me.
He smiled more broadly. "Yeah, thank you."
"I should have wrapped it." I went on as I handed it to him. "Uh, and the receipt is still in there, I should have taken that out, don't look at it."
"You didn't spend too much, I hope." And he reached into the bag, pulled it out. One of them. A pair of bookends, of Rodin's "Thinker."
"I thought you could use one of them at the end of the top shelf," I gestured at the bookcase; every attorney has too many books for any bookcase, "and take the other home with you or something."
"Sure, thanks." Victor (my boss) took the bookends and, shoving the books in half (the bookcase went from wall to wall) and placed them facing each other in the space between against the books. Both of them, like that, their heads nearly touched, the edges of the bottoms were chock-a-block against each other. "That'll do." he declared.
"Yeah." I smiled myself. The two Rodins like that looked less like one guy in contemplation and more like two guys in a deep consultation. Two naked guys in a deep, intimate consultation, that is, and what else are two naked guys going to talk about? "So I'm sorry your dinner plans fell through."
"Yeah."
"Dinner at Marcon's, wow." I went on. "And your wife can't make it?"
"That's what she says." Victor scowled. "Has to go to Chicago. Again." His wife went there on a regular basis, friends of hers lived there.
I'd spoken to the friends, mind you, I didn't disbelieve that part of it. But... "On your birthday?" I was disbelieving about this part of it, all right. "She can't wait one day?"
"Not according to her." This was the part that stuck in his craw, too. "Her friend is sick and needs her to go right now. She'll be gone for two weeks! Two weeks!"
"I'm sorry." I said. "You can eat at Marcon's by yourself, they make nice meals. Or call a friend to go with you."
"Yeah." Victor said, then, with sudden determination. "Would you like to have dinner with me?"
"Me?"
"The reservations are for two." Victor went on. "Any of my friends I invited, I'd have to invite them as a couple. Marcon's won't let you add a third person, you know."
"I know." I agreed. "An exclusive place." I glanced down at myself, our office was informal as you can only get away with in Southern California, I wore a dress shirt and slacks, and dress shoes, but no tie and no jacket. I had a sweater at my desk, but it was getting ratty....
"So you go home and get ready and meet me there." he shrugged. "Reservations aren't until seven-thirty; you'll have time. Won't you?"
"If I hurry."
"Good." he said. "Now, about the Wermer case...."
And it was back to work. By cutting a few traffic lights going home (you know, you keep driving even though the light has turned to red, a lot of people in Los Angeles do that), I made it home with a half-hour to get ready. I squeezed in a quickie shower, jumped into my interview suit, couldn't fasten the buttons on it, and said to hell with it. Working at a computer would put some pounds on you whether you liked it or not, and that suit had been tight when I'd gotten the job seven years ago. I was thirty now and looking it, I decided as I shaved. Not bad looking, hair a very light brown (not blond, worse luck, just light, light brown) and deep brown eyes that had charmed men when younger. Now, I was beginning to wonder if I'd ever find Mr. Right. Not that work gave me a hell of a lot of time to look for love. I made it to Marcon's right on the dot, and went in with all the panache I could drag together.
The waiter was smilingly polite to me. I'd never been to Marcon's, and this place was really, really nice. I felt out of place, tried not to show it. Victor stood and treated me like an honored client, and I settled in for a truly magnificent dinner. Everything was perfect, the courses already chosen, the waiters were helpful without being ingratiating. And something more, I couldn't put my finger on it.
Until it came time for desert. A cake came out, a small one for two people to enjoy, but with candles lit and everything on it. "For you, courtesy of the chef." the maitre d' explained to Victor's quizzical look. "For the birthday guest and his...companion." This last word came with a hesitation that told me everything that had puzzled me.
I looked at Victor and saw him struggling not to grin. I waited for him to correct the waiter, but he didn't, though after they left, he burst out laughing and I followed suit. "I told them when I made the reservation that it was for me and my wife. Told them it was my birthday, so I could get this one evening without a lot of arguing or fear of being bumped off. So they were expecting a couple and assume we're it."
"Hey, this is Southern California." I said. "Just be glad they only think we're gay and not Satanists or something."
Victor lifted his drink to his face for a time as I kept chuckling. "They're right about you, though." he informed me.
"Huh?"
"About you being gay?"
I'd never come out at the office. No reason not to, but if you do, you find yourself with a lot of questions and assumptions and funny looks, I didn't want to deal with that on a job that was damned demanding even without that on top of it. But now, it had been seven years, and I was pretty indispensable to the office, so.... "Yeah, I am. Is that a problem?"
"Not at all." Victor said. "But how come you haven't found someone yet. I know you're still single."
I shrugged, made a half-grimace. "Just never worked out. Everyone I meet seems to only want to play around. Or maybe I'm too quick to ring the wedding bells on a promising someone. Haven't even been trying, recently. Maybe it's too late."
"You shouldn't give up." Victor put a hand on mine on the table. The waiter nearby snickered knowingly, gave me a clever wink. I felt cocky enough with that touch to wink back.
We walked outside after the dinner and I said to Victor, "Thanks, Victor. That was a wonderful dinner. Makes me feel like I'm the one who had the birthday. I parked down the street in the lot."
"So leave it there." Victor said. "I want to show you the rest of the evening I had planned for my birthday."
"Uh...sure." I said. Why not? Though I wondered what else he had in mind. Tickets to a movie or play, I figured. The evening was still young, not even nine o'clock yet. So I got in and went with him. A large building, I wasn't paying attention until we got inside. It wasn't until we checked in that I realized where we were. "A hotel?" I asked when we got on the elevator.
"Wait until you see the room." Victor assured me. "Sheer luxury."
I figured a jacuzzi and wide-screen television and such. But the room was just a regular room and I was about to say that when I got inside, so I turned around.
And that's when Victor grabbed me. I was surprised, but having those arms around me and those lips on mine and that crotch grinding against me, my conscience didn't feel the need to say a single word to me. I was surprised for a second, that was all, then I was kissing him right back and it felt good, so damned good! You don't sleep with your boss, not if you're smart, but right then, my smarts had taken an unplanned vacation.
When I moved down to nibble at his neck, Victor said, "Don't you want to see what I had planned for this evening?"
"I already have a pretty good idea." I panted.
"You just get your clothes off and get on the bed." he assured me. "I'll go into the bathroom and come out in about five minutes. Okay?"
"Okay." I was mystified but willing. After all, the guy you've had a thing for for over seven years finally comes on to you (saving you the indignity of trying to come on to him and being turned down), you'll give him five minutes in the bathroom to make himself ready.
So I got undressed and lay down on the bed as instructed. Debated about my briefs, decided to shuck them. I would be naked, available and ready when he got out of the bathroom.
The bathroom door opened just a crack. "Are you ready?"
"I'm ready."
Close your eyes, count to fifteen and then open them, okay?"
"Okay."
I did and when I opened my eyes, my jaw dropped. "You're Superman?" I said.
For Victor was wearing the Superman costume. Honest, with built-in muscles in the suit! Even arranged his hair into Superman's hair style. Not a bad likeness, really. "This was Sylvia's fantasy, and I was going to give it to her tonight. A date with Superman."
"Well, then." I said, my cock rising. "Just how super are you?"
"Why don't I show you." Victor said, coming over to the bed. His first act as Superman was to grab my cock and (rather to my surprise) bend over and start sucking on it. Surprised the heck out of me, and turned out to be pretty good at it! You know, a straight guy doesn't strike you as the one who can work up a load of spit in his mouth, steer your dong over his lips without scraping it against his teeth, then shove the entire eight inches down his throat in one smooth, even motion, leaving you breathless and gasping at the sheer, raw delight of it. And damn it, yes, the costume helped, helped a lot! I was getting super-sucked by Superman! When Victor began to bob his head up and down, and I was moaning with the joy of it.
Victor was busy in other areas than his head, it turned out, for he turned loose after a moment (a good thing, I was on the verge, about fifteen seconds into sex!), and sticking out of a well-concealed fly in those red shorts on that blue-clad form. And with the fake muscles on it, that just made it better when they landed on either side of my head and I slurped down my own private super-cock and it fit into my mouth and throat wonderfully well. Of course, I'd always known it would.
Victor went back to sucking my pud, and brought me again to the brink of ejaculation, I was moaning helplessly and pretty much resigned to blowing my wad too early in and performing an act of contrition after by giving him the ride of his life, when he let go and said, panting heavily, "Okay, Stuart, I think I'm ready."
"Ready?" I gasped back at him. Christ, I needed to come, I needed to come so bad!
"Ready to get a superfuck, that is?"
"Yeah, yeah, oh, God, yeah!" I heaved. It was what I'd been expecting as soon as Victor came on to me, you expect a straight guy to mount you and get his jollies and if you can do the same, you pretty much are ahead of the game. His marvelous talent at sucking cock was an extra, you have to agree.
So when Victor lifted my legs and spread them wide, and guided his firm, spit-slicked prong toward my anus, all I did was feast my eyes upon my boss' face, and upon the fantasy he was playing for me, and then closed my eyes and concentrated on the feel of that wonderful dong as it slid into me.
My hands clamped on the biceps, the foam-muscles were surprisingly firm (they'd been sewn into place, and maybe weren't foam-rubber, I'm not up on such things), and I looked at that big "S" on his chest, and I just let myself get fucked by Superman. Nothing wrong with a fantasy is there, and the fantasy of Superman was easier than the fantasy of my boss, because when you fuck your boss, you're opening yourself up to a whole world of events that can ruin your career or at least complicate your life. You don't sleep with your boss if you're smart! But you can sleep with Superman!
"Yeah, come on, Superman, fuck me harder, give me that superdick and give it to me hard, harder, yeah, come on, harder!"
Victor grinned at me, the grin that meant he could go into politics any time he want, and he began to hump me harder. I fondled the fake muscles and told myself this was real, this was all real. I was being fucked by Superman, why not ride him and ride him hard?
I clamped my legs about Victor's waist, the cape tickling my leg hairs as his hips bucked and rammed my ass, brushing it back and forth.
Muscle-clad or not, Victor was getting tired pretty quick. When his pace slowed down, I said, "How about if I'm the one doing the moving for a change, Superman?"
Victor grinned again and let me roll him over. I looked at him, now looking very much like my boss and not like Superman, and I began to rock my hips back and forth, making that love-muscle of his hum along nicely, and Victor reached up and grabbed my cock and began to pump me hard.
Given the terrific suck and the wonderful fuck I'd been having, my prick was more than ready and after a minute of that, I groaned out, "Oh, God, Victor, I'm going to come, I'm going to come!
"I'm not Victor, I'm Superman!" he reminded me.
"I'm coming, Superman, I'm coming, oh, oh, OH-OH-OH, AH-GAHHH, HUHHHH!"
And my cock spurted onto Victor's blue-covered chest and my spunk splattered the big red S with a hot white load of my love-goo! Victor just laughed as I creamed all over him, and when I was done, groaning, he rolled us back and put me under him once again. Now his body was business-like in its attentions, he was finishing himself up, having diligently provided me with the fuck of a lifetime and I stroked his back as he humped me, felt his hot breath on my neck as he moaned, grunted, groaned, and then, with no more warning than that, his breath caught, held, and expelled a heavy, shuddering sigh as he filled my ass with his jizz. Just that gentle, just that warm, he flooded my ass with a creamy froth of male joy, and then he relaxed and pressed that sticky chest of his against mine as he slumped down in completion.
"You know you're not going to get your cleaning deposit back." I said.
He laughed. "When you rent a costume in June, they know you aren't attending a Halloween party. And Sylvia did like to play fantasies. I've been dressed up for sex more ways than I can count."
"Costumes can be fun." I agreed. "But you would have been great without it." I heard something, a sound, I wasn't sure what.
"Thanks."
I cocked my ear at the sound as it repeated. "Isn't that your cell phone?"
"Yeah. Hell. I'd better get it, it might be Sylvia telling me she's arrived in Chicago and wishing me a happy birthday."
"Go ahead." I said and I watched Superman stride into the bathroom. He closed the door to talk to her, which was fine with me. You don't want to hear a man say words of love to someone else after he just fucked your ass, you know?
But when Victor came out, he said, "That was my next-door neighbor. Said there's a problem at my house, and I had to get home right away. Hung up before I could find out what it was, though."
"Oh." I said. "I can take a cab back to the parking lot and get my car."
"Better yet." Victor said. "How'd you like to spend the night at my place. Or longer. With Sylvia in Chicago, we can fuck in every room in the house before she gets back."
"Sure." I agreed. This was a fling, then. I could deal with that. Boss has some fun with his assistant and then returns to his loving wife. As for me, I had more than a repressed fantasy to remember. My boss dressed up like Superman, that's quite a vision to have, you know?
So we got dressed and went to his house. I was wondering if there'd be sirens or fire blazing or what, but everything seemed normal. I looked my query at Victor, but he just shrugged. "Guess we'll get inside and I'll call the neighbor after we've looked around."
"Sure." I agreed.
He unlocked the door and I sniffed as I got inside. "No smell of gas, anyhow. And I don't hear water running."
Victor's hands came to my waist and spun me around. "Before we go one step further, I want another taste of you."
I started to make a joking answer, when his lips caught mine and he pushed me back against what felt like a loaded coat-rack and I was semi-buried in coats and being kissed really hard.
And that's when the lights came on, with me kissing Victor suddenly all too clearly visible.
"Surprise!" shouted the assembled guests. A lone voice after that said, "Happy birthday!"
I learned all this later: It turned out Sylvia hadn't gone to Chicago after all. And when her birthday-partyless hubby hadn't come home after leaving Marcon's (she'd called to see if he'd kept the dinner engagement and the discreet personnel at Marcon's hadn't blabbed that he had done so with a guest), she had arranged for the neighbor to call to get him home. The guests had been waiting since nine o'clock, and it was now past ten and they had been waiting for over an hour to surprise Victor.
Only they were the ones who got the surprise. I darted out the door, walked nearly a mile to a convenience store and called a cab to get home. And had to find new employment on top of that.
Like I said before--Don't sleep with your boss! Even if he's Superman!
THE END
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E-mail the Author at Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM