by Ami Snow
“It's so hard to concentrate when you're watching me live from just a few feet away,” Spencer whispered huskily, “Just knowing your tasty little cunt's just a couple of feet out of reach drives me bat-shit insane...”
Winona's thoughts flatlined into silence, a surge of lust swelling inside of her as she kicked off her heels, allowing Spencer's warm fingers to slide her pantyhose, along with her dampened panties, down to her ankles. He licked his lips, watching as she hoisted the hem of her skirt up her waist, her thick, quivering thighs coming into view. The swiftly lubricating space between her legs pulsed as the older man wrested her legs apart in an arousing show of his brute strength. Winona couldn't help but shiver, her light tremors triggered by the lust-crazed look in his eyes. There was something about the way the usually polished, debonair man looked at her, reducing her to a piece of meat, sending another trickle of her juices down her thighs.
Spencer leaned in, taking a deep whiff of her strong, piquant odor, his eyes gazing longingly at the glistering folds of her cunt. He lapped at her folds with his rigid tongue, stabbing lightly at the jewel of her pulsating clitoris with the tip. Winona's shoulders loosened, melting into the cushion of his couch, her fingers rapidly unbuttoning the constraints of her blouse. She breathed a moaning sigh of relief, removing each hefty globe of her cups, her heavy, pendulous breasts immaculately suspended.
“You're the sharpest intern I've ever had,” breathed Spencer, winking as he pulled away from her crotch, his mouth and chiseled chin coated with her juices, “You're a fast learner. You know exactly what I want, don't you?”
Winona nodded, speechless, her eyes rolling to the back of her head as Spencer dove between her legs once again, his fingers fondling her nipples, teasing the pert tips with sharp pinches as his tongue tormented her raw clitoris. Her fingernails burrowed into the downy feathers of one of Spencer's throw pillows, her turbulent pleasure evident on her contorting expressions, a stream of her juices gushing out her contracting crevice.
Winona shot forward, her back arching as Spencer flung her legs over his shoulder and delved deeper between her legs, sopping up every last drop of her warm, tasty juices. He rose from the floor and leaned towards her, pressing his lips, glistening with her juices, onto her mouth, and kissed her passionately. His tongue swirled around inside her mouth, Winona tasting herself as her tongue tackled his. He broke free from the kiss, crouching back down as he gathered her breasts together with his hands and buried his nose between her cleavage. He savored the sweet suffocation, his fingers kneading into the mounds of her breasts as she raked her hands through his hair. Winona held him close to her, the warmth of his tongue streaking along the deep cleavage of her jiggling breasts.
Winona's smile floundered on her face, her heart sinking to the pit of her stomach as she watched Spencer's fingers inch towards the glinting buckle of his belt. Spencer's expression shifted to one of abrupt confusion as Winona leapt off the sofa without warning, tucking her breasts back into the cups of her bra. His short-lived exasperation subsided, observing the glimmering sparkle of her watery brown eyes.
“Winona – what – are you crying?” asked Spencer urgently, his eyes softening, carefully placing his hands on her quivering shoulders. His forehead creased with genuine worry, “Have I done something to make you uncomfortable? We can stop – we don't have to –”
Winona plucked his hands off her shoulders slowly, her voice hushed, “No, it's me. I'm such an asshole sometimes. I'm sorry, Mr. Flynn, I shouldn't have let it gone on this far – I needed to tell you something, that's why I came to your dressing room in the first place –”
Spencer frowned, his narrowed eyes remorseful. He rubbed his finger against his bottom lip, “Winona – you gotta understand something. This – right here? It's not something I normally do – I don't go around screwing every intern that works under – er – for me –”
Winona quickly brushed away the cursory surge of satisfaction, slowly shaking her head, “That's not it, Mr. Flynn. I took a few tests – I'm pregnant.”
Spencer's mouth dropped open, “With –”
“Yes, it's yours,” snapped Winona. Her eyes widened instantly, blushing furiously as she clamped a hand over her mouth. She stared at the flabbergasted man, lowering her trembling hand, “I'm sorry – that was horrible. I haven't really been myself lately, if you know what I mean –”
“And your aloof behavior from the past week –”
“I'm sorry, I didn't know how to tell you. It's not exactly a conversation starter,” Winona replied gloomily, her eyes downcast. She buttoned up her blouse hastily and headed towards the door, muttering whispered apologies, slamming it shut in Spencer's dumbfounded face.
Winona fled into the break room, her fingers still shaking as she lifted the stale pot of coffee and poured herself a cup. She turned around to lean against the counter, swearing furiously under her breath as none other than Kara stalked into the room. Kara sneered at the two writers, who were innocently sipping their mugs of coffee, shooting them an icy glare. The pair rolled their eyes and slipped out the door, flipping the bird to the back of her head. Kara slammed the door shut behind her, fuming.
“The jig's up, Ms. Rockwell. I saw you doing the walk of shame outta his dressing room – told you to keep an eye out. You're in for it now.”
Chapter Seven –
Winona nipped at her mug of tepid coffee, breathing a sigh of vexation as she drained the rest into the sink, “I don't know what you think you saw but your obsession with me has really gone out of control, hasn't it? Please, Kara – whatever it is, not today. I can't –”
Kara scoffed, stomping indignantly, snarling, “You must think you're something special, don't you – you're not the first one Spencer's screwed around with around here. Here's a little word of advice for ya – if you're gonna whore yourself out to the boss like the classless whore you are, never do it on set and for god's sake, take heed of the fucking cameras. Amateur.”
A frigid chill tingled down Winona's spine, supporting herself against the counter as her knees buckled underneath her. She flicked away the bead of sweat settling on her left brow, the previous confident stability of her voice faltering, “I don't – what do you want from me, Kara? Look, I apologize, the last thing I wanted to do at Channel 8 was to step on anyone's toes – I've been looking forward to this for eight months – I never wanted to screw this up. What happened between me and Mr. Flynn –”
“Mr. Flynn,” snarked Kara mockingly, “I bet that sick bastard likes it when you call him that, doesn't he?”
Winona sighed, continuing, “– whatever happened, happened. I didn't mean for it to happen and woman to woman, I honestly had no clue the two of you –”
“Woman to woman?” repeated Kara, a snide, unpleasant laugh erupting from her lips, “Don't flatter yourself, sweetheart – you're barely a woman –”
“Not that it matters –” Winona persisted through gritted teeth, “I just wanted to be the bigger person here and apologize. I'm sorry, I do want to keep things civil –”
Kara droned on, the nasty smile on her lips broadening, “You twenty-something airheads amuse me – what would you know about womanhood? Powerful individuals who run their own successful businesses, mothers – those are women –”
The piquing rage within Winona aggravated, once again gaining steadiness in her voice, “Not to rain on your little speech there, as eloquent and factually accurate you think it is – not that I agree with you in any way, shape, or form, but I've got those things crossed off my list, thanks.”
Kara fell silent, blinking as her thoughts spurred into action. It suddenly clicked – it was only then that she realized why the harlot of a young woman's name had sounded so familiar. Winona Rockwell's name was plastered all over town for her immensely successful business, flashing back to a hazy memory of one of the projects Rhonda had written for her – Scrub Love's tale to success. She sighed bitterly, thinking of the stash of Honey-Bee Exfoliating Scr
ub deluxe package stored in her medicine cabinet. Kara stiffened, glancing towards Winona's hand, carefully perched on her stomach, the sounds of Winona's retching resonating in her ears as she finally pieced the puzzle together.
Kara's high cheekbones flushed beet red, her incoherent words gnarling together as she blubbered out her lips, “You – no – you're – you're pregnant with – with Spencer's –”
Winona mitigated the cold expression prominently fixed to her face, her angled eyebrows relaxing. She took a few slow steps forward, shifting her head to the side, quickly retracting her hand as Kara hissed at her.
“Kara, I'm sorry – I don't know what it is, I'm usually not much for confrontation...It's the, um, hormones, maybe – that's been putting me on a bit of an edge –”
“If you value your child's life,” breathed Kara, baring her gritted teeth, “You'll back the hell away from me – right now.”
Winona obliged, backing up against the counter, “Kara, I'm sorry – is there any way we could talk about this –”
Kara's eyes bugged out dementedly, her voice shrilling, “Yes – I'll talk, alright – I'll have you and that prick Spencer escorted out of the building by the end of the day – Young girls these days just never listen, do they?”
Winona's heart wrenched in her chest, her tone pleading, “Kara – you can do whatever the hell you want with me, I'll quit the apprenticeship, just please, you can't do this to Mr. Flynn. He's been doing this for almost a decade – you'll crush him –”
“Like he crushed me when he decided he'd had enough of me?” Kara declared melodramatically, folding her arms across her chest, “I'm gonna make this as excruciating for you as I possibly can – what're people gonna think – oh wait, just what would Daddy think of the little whore he raised?”
“No – you're not.”
Winona and Kara's eyes widened simultaneously as Rhonda stumbled through the doorway, rubbing at her ears.
Kara's face whitened, pursing her lips as Rhonda stopped next to Winona, leering. Kara's eyes darted back and forth between the pair, the butterfly clips on Rhonda's hair glittering under the lights of the break room.
Rhonda lifted her chin, smiling, “Why don't you take that stick outta your ass and shove your money up your loose asshole? We're done here.”
Kara's mouth fell open, her shoulders heaving as she started to step towards the defiant pair. She closed her mouth, her eyes heavy with defeat. Shooting them one final glimpse of pure hatred behind her shoulder, she stamped out of the room in a huff, slamming the door close behind her, rattling the door frame.
Chapter Eight –
Winona hopped out of the cab, facing another fresh morning, the scintillating, mirrored buildings of Channel 8 towering over her. She wished the driver a safe ride and clicked the door shut behind her, trekking across the crosswalk, her tender, swollen breasts joggling beneath the restraints of her bra. Two seconds from her usual left corner, she halted her hurried steps, noticing the periwinkle blue of the sign of the boutique that had been under construction the past few weeks.
Winona's jaw slowly unhinged, blinking the glisten away from her disbelieving eyes. The spotless display window exhibited shiny, various models of state-of-the-art strollers, centered with an eco-friendly, bamboo crib, adorable, vividly colored cartoon monsters hanging from the swinging baby mobile dangling above it.
Just a few feet away, Spencer handed crisp bills of change to the hot dog vendor. He nodded courteously as he accepted his hot dog bun, the questionably colored, but scrumptious sausage drizzled with extra mustard, just the way he liked it. He turned towards the corner, a flicker of lilac purple catching his eye. His stomach somersaulted as he caught sight of Winona, hovering over the window of the new baby boutique, her breath fogging up the glass of the display window. Spencer backtracked towards the hot dog cart, reaching in his pocket, fumbling for change.
“Didn't know if you were a ketchup or a mustard type, so I got you one of each.”
The nape of Winona's neck tingled at the unmistakable, crystalline quality of Spencer's widely-recognizable voice. She twirled around clumsily in shock, scuffing the patent leather of her flats against the pavement. The color on her olive cheeks deepened, briskly striding away from the display window to the curb of the sidewalk. Spencer followed her, the pleasant clunking of his footfall floating into her ears.
“Thanks,” Winona mumbled, accepting a ketchup-smothered hot dog bun, the crinkled foil warming in her hands.
“So – er – how are you holding up?”
Winona took a wolfish bite from her hot dog bun and chewed thoughtfully. She swallowed, sighing as she lowered her eyes to the pavement, “Mr. Flynn – I'm sorry about running out on you the other day and just not showing up at all yesterday –”
“It's alright – well, it's not alright – to be honest, it was unprofessional, but understandable.”
“I know,” Winona squeaked in reply. She cleared her throat, forcing herself to elevate her eyes to his level, “I'm sorry, Mr. Flynn. I didn't mean to disappoint you – I just. I have to talk to you about the – um –”
“That's alright, Winona – you can say it. The baby.”
“Right – the baby,” Winona repeated, biting down on her lip in agitation, “I've decided – I'm going to follow through with the pregnancy – now hold on, I'm not about to milk you for your wealth or fame or anything crazy, Mr. Flynn – just hear me out –”
Spencer stepped towards her, gently grabbing hold of her wrists. The loose sleeves of Winona's blouse unfurled down her arms, catching on her the inner folds of her elbows, his fingertips brushing against the subtly raised, uncovered surface of her white ink tattoo. His eyes widened ever so slightly, slowly nodding as he understood. He opened his mouth to speak, his lips suddenly devoid of moisture.
“Winona – I've been a bachelor all my life,” Spencer admitted, “I've never been a father to anyone – never even had a pet –”
“And I'm not asking you to – like I said, Mr. Flynn – I'm not looking for money or expecting any sort of relationship to come out of this.”
“It isn't that – I just wouldn't have a clue what to do – I guess I could look into picking up some baby books at the bookstore downtown after work –”
Winona's eyes widened, her heart fluttering in her ears, “Wait – what?”
Spencer's eyes glimmered greener than ever under the golden tinge of the sunlight, the corners of his lips twitching, “You didn't think I'd just let you go through with this on your own, did you? Winona – I want to help out any way that I can – tuition, clothes – not that I don't think you've got it covered. Well – what do you think?”
Unable to keep the smile spreading on her face, Winona stuttered before finally finding her voice, “I – I – that sounds like a plan, Mr. Flynn.”
“Good – now come on, we've got a long day ahead of us. I'll drive you to a clinic for a check-up after work.”
Winona glanced to her left, smiling at the passing young mother, pushing a laughing, blue-eyed, curly-haired baby in a polka dotted stroller. She placed her hands gently across the bulge of her stomach, quietly rejoicing in the brief rush of warmth enveloping her body, her round cheeks glowing. She glanced up at Spencer, who was peering at her from behind his shoulder, thrusting his chin forward, beckoning her forward. The leaded weight in her legs seemingly evaporated, the invigorating gust of wind brushing against her cheeks. Winona smiled to herself, bounding forward with a fresh spring in her step.
THE END
**Bonus Story Limited Time Only**
Secretary’s First Time
BDSM
By: Amanda Bolton
First Time Secretary
Chapter 1
“Ms. Emmet, please come to my office,” Mr. Conner said over the intercom. His tone was rough and irritated which was his normal tone when speaking to me. It was the first time since I was hired that he asked me into his office, and I worried my bottom lip. I didn’t think
I’d done anything wrong, but since he was less than happy I had taken his old secretary’s position, I couldn’t be sure.
Apparently my new boss didn’t like change and wasn’t thrilled that I’d taken Helen’s place. She was like a mother to him, and I was only me. He didn’t take me seriously and was constantly making me go over my work. I did it, but I was getting sick of walking on egg shells. I felt I had proven myself.
I stood and took a deep breath bracing myself to be fired. I knew he wanted to get rid of me but couldn’t afford to have no one taking care of all the stuff Helen did for him. I couldn’t believe her daily ‘to do’ list. She really was a saint, and it was a tall order to fill, but every day I did it. Seemed Mr. Conner wasn’t organized and would lose his head if it weren’t for having a very meticulous secretary. I think part of me surged forward with each task because I wanted to spite him and make him apologize. Yeah, that wasn’t happening.
I trudged to his office and knocked on the door.
After a few seconds he told me to enter. His voice was muffled by the door, and I took one last deep breath before I pushed the door open and went inside. His office space was huge. It was bigger than my apartment. He spent a lot of time in the office. Helen had told me often that he sometimes didn’t even go home. That didn’t surprise me. My first impression of him was not a good one since he didn’t even know she had hired me, but I could tell right away he was devoted to his family business, and he strived to better it with every step he took.