Re-Bedding The Boss
Page 3
‘No, it’s nothing like that. I rang him on Sunday night, so I know it works . . . or worked.’
‘I’ll skip over the reason you rang him on Sunday night.’ It was Joanna’s turn to check for snoops. Finding the corridor otherwise deserted, she went on, ‘Listen Heather, I need a word.’
‘I’m not in trouble, am I?’
‘Not at all; I just followed you out here to get some privacy.’
‘Joanna, you’re frightening me.’
‘I shouldn’t be. It’s good news, not bad.’
‘Go on then,’ said Heather uncertainly.
‘I’ve had a call from Victoria, en route to King’s Cross . . . about you.’
Oh that! Already! Vic must be back in Miss Efficiency mode.
It was difficult not to grin when Heather compared Victoria, the ruthless executive in full flow to Vic the lover, on her back and defenceless in bed. What had she said about bossy cows and ravishers?
‘About me?’ she said aloud. ‘What have I done?’
‘You’ve caught her ladyship’s eye. She wants to offer you a new position.’
There was an awkward pause before Heather replied.
‘I’m not looking for a new position. I’m still on probation with you.’
‘That’s what I said. She said she could get round that without breaking sweat. Not that the Ice Queen ever sweats.’
No? Heather pictured Vic’s body after a couple of hours of sex. Mmmm, nice picture! It was quite a sweaty one, though, not in the least icy. More warm and welcoming. No, make that hot.
‘I must say you don’t seem surprised.’ Joanna continued. ‘Has she already sounded you out?’
‘No, I’ve hardly ever spoken to her.’
‘Well it’s fair to say she’s been taking note of you. When she was signing off our rugby expenses she even called you Snow White.’
‘I’ve been thinking about this Snow White business.’ Heather’s fingers were still crossed behind her back after her bare-faced fib. ‘My hair’s far too long, my eyes are the wrong colour and she never had an every-last-inch tan.’ She waited for the older woman to laugh. When that didn’t happen she blundered on: ‘What’s the position anyway? And why pick on me?’
‘It’s as Victoria’s PA. She says you made a good impression in that new products meeting.’ Now Joanna did laugh. ‘If it had been Chris Woodhead calling, you know what conclusions I’d have jumped to. But Victoria’s beyond suspicion. At least, I think she is.’
‘I don’t know the first thing about being a PA.’
‘Don’t worry; Victoria’s going to train you herself. Like I said: if it was Chris Woodhead proposing this . . .’
‘Would I be tarred if I went for it?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Would folk assume things about us?’
Joanna hummed a bit. ‘I would say probably not. You might start a few blokes fantasizing, but I wouldn’t expect any real bitchiness.’
‘What do you think? Should I? I won’t if you don’t want me to.’
‘Victoria’s the rising star in these parts. You have to go with her.’
‘Do you really mean that?’
‘Yes,’ Joanna said without hesitation. ‘Even if she wants to get in your knickers, go for it.’
‘Ms Jones!’
‘Seriously, Heather, if you’re ever going to grab coattails, hers are the ones. That girl is definitely going places. If she wants to take you with her . . .’
‘What if . . .’
‘She does want to get in your knickers? Don’t ask me, I wouldn’t know. You’re the woman of the world. I’m sure you’ll make the right decision if the occasion arises.’
‘What would you say if you heard rumours I’d been sleeping with her?’
‘I don’t even know if she does that sort of thing.’
‘Suppose she does.’
‘Okay. Do you find her attractive?’
‘I find her very attractive.’
‘Then go for it. She’s offering unlimited possibilities, without strings. Anything that happens later is just fate.’
‘What about her grade?’
‘Forget her blooming grade, Heather. Opportunities like this aren’t ten-a-penny. Go for it!’
Chapter Five
Time had passed. The night was growing old and Joanna frowned. Nobody ever rang her after ten in the evening; nobody bearing good news, anyway. Taking care not to lose her page, she plucked her mobile from the top of the bedside cabinet.
‘Hello?’ she said cautiously.
‘Hi Hot Lips, it’s me.’
‘Heather, don’t you know what time it is?’
‘It’s not very late.’
‘Yes it is,’ Joanna replied, feigning grouchiness.
‘I haven’t woken you, have I?’
‘No. Luckily for you I’m reading in bed. What do you want?’
‘I want to thank you for your very kind and wise advice this afternoon.’
‘Don’t soft-soap me.’
‘I’m not. I really mean it, even if I am still torn. It’s great working on your team.’
‘I know it is, but my advice still stands. You have to take your chance with Victoria.’
‘Huh!’ went Heather, abruptly dropping her bar of Imperial Leather. ‘You’re supposed to bribe me not to go.’
‘So says she in her fancy penthouse! I’ve no bribes worth offering.’
‘You could offer me your body.’
‘Really Heather, as if you’d want that!’
‘Try me.’
‘Heather . . .’
‘Are you really in bed?’
‘Yes.’
‘So am I. Naked and alone. Are you naked?’
‘Heather . . .’
‘Are you?’
Heart in her mouth, Joanna hesitated. ‘Yes,’ she said finally.
‘Are you reading dirty magazines?’
‘No. Thanks to you I’m reading Sense and Sensibility.’
‘Why thanks to me?’
‘You seem to be so well-read.’
‘I’m well-read when it comes to passing exams. Otherwise I’m patchy.’
‘Not as patchy as me. I did get an O-level in English, but only just. When you mentioned Jane Austen the other day I realized I’d half-read Persuasion and nothing else. I felt as though I’d been missing out.’
‘So you’re catching up?’
‘I’ve certainly started. I went online and bought the full set. By Christmas it will be my specialist subject. You’ll be seeing me on Mastermind.’
‘That Jane Austen’s full of explicit sex.’
Joanna glanced at the other five books, stacked in a neat pile on her dressing table. ‘I can’t say I’ve noticed.’
‘Oh it's there, simmering beneath the surface. Just wait until you get to Emma. She's worse than me.’
‘I do rather doubt that.’
‘Joanna, are you really naked?’
‘Yes.’
‘Send me a snap.’
‘What?’
‘Send me a snap on your mobile. Do a full-frontal.’
Joanna was surprised by the lurch in her tummy. Heather seemed quite serious and bits of her own body were starting to respond . . . unwarrantedly, that was, because . . .
Well, because.
‘I don't know how to do it on this phone,’ she hedged. ‘And I wouldn't, anyway.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because I’m old and wrinkly, and you’re a girl.’
‘You are not old and wrinkly. You're lovely. I want to see you.’
‘Have you been drinking?’
‘No, I didn’t go to the leaving do after all. I’ve been lying here since eight instead, idly jilling and daydreaming.’
Jilling? Joanna frowned again. Didn’t that mean . . .
‘I’ve been pretending you did come with us on Saturday after all,’ Heather went on, ‘you me and my big Number 3. It’s been one of my best-ever daydreams.’<
br />
This time Joanna’s tummy lurched into free fall. Her nipples were suddenly hard against the bed sheets and she was afraid she might be self-lubricating beyond all reason.
‘Heather,’ she began uncertainly, ‘are you telling me you’ve been . . .’
‘Jilling,’ her colleague said helpfully. ‘I’ve been thinking about you with that rugby player and jilling. And I’ve been thinking about the other threesome combinations, too, especially me and you.’
‘Heather . . .’
‘You have the most beautiful smile, you know? I’d love to see what you look like when you cum.’
‘Heather!!’
‘I’ve tried to imagine your expression a few times before . . . in the privacy of my own home, I hasten to add. I’d never jill during working hours.’
‘This is a wind-up, right? You’ve had a drink and you’re winding me up.’
‘I had two pints of lager in the Shama with my curry. I’m completely sober and it’s not a wind-up. I really do want to see photos of you naked, climaxing or . . . preferably . . . both.’
‘Well you can’t.’
‘I can pop round if you can't work your phone.’
‘Heather . . . you can’t. I’m your boss.’
‘So? Victoria’s going to be my boss; you’re practically pushing me into her bed.’
‘You’re hardly kicking and screaming.’
‘Well she intrigues me . . . and scares me a bit, too. Should be exciting, shouldn't it?’
Joanna took a deep breath, still physically aroused but glad of even the slightest change of tack.
‘You’ve decided, then?’
‘About Victoria? I'm a bit wary. You paint her as quite callous. She wouldn't do anything dodgy, would she?’
Joanna frowned a third time. Heather sounded as if she had reason to be concerned . . . as of course she did.
‘What do you mean by “dodgy”?’
‘Oh I don't know. Falsify reports; lend irresponsibly; that sort of stuff.’
‘I’d say definitely not. She tramples over her rivals, but only politically.’
‘Is that definitely a definite?’
‘Yes, it definitely is.’
‘You trust her then?’
‘Totally.’
‘And you really won’t mind if I accept?’
‘I want what’s best for you, Heather. Honestly.’
‘In that case I’ll go for it . . . but only if you read me some naughty bits.’
‘You mean from Sense and Sensibility, do you?’
‘Yes, unless you've got Playgirl stuffed under your mattress.’
‘I'm afraid I haven't.’
‘Okay then, get to the part where Marianne meets Mr Willoughby.’
‘I'm past that already. It's not at all naughty.’
‘That’s because you’re not reading it properly. Let me explain what’s going on between the lines.’
Chapter Six
After perhaps ten minutes of Heather’s “explanation” Joanna’s resistance crumbled. Listening to that sexy, beguiling voice, she obeyed orders and began to masturbate.
And how naughty was that?
But the things Heather was saying! Without ever once swearing, she depicted Marianne’s hopes and desires in the same sort of way that got Lady Chatterley’s Lover banned. It was impossible not to obey her; she was so persuasive. And it was impossible to stop after an embarrassingly early cum, as well. Heather simply would not let her.
‘Plenty more where that came from,’ she said. ‘Come along with me, on with the story.’
Before too long, after Joanna’s second (much more timely!) orgasm, Heather changed tack. More beguiling than ever, she started to describe the things she wanted to do; things with her fingers and tongue . . . and also things with the toys she claimed to have in abundance.
Things she wanted to do to her boss.
Joanna pressed her phone to her ear with her left hand and kept jilling with her right. Lately she’d done a lot of self-abuse but always in isolation. Doing it in sync with a running commentary was both a step up and incredibly exciting. And it hardly seemed to matter that the commentary had drifted on to girl-on-girl sex. Neither did the fact she was straight.
Well, as good as straight . . . apart from that business half a lifetime ago with Debs.
Back in the day, when she’d briefly doubted her true self.
*****
Joanna had left the academic world after the sixth form, becoming one of the very first recruits of the newly launched West Yorkshire Bank. Before she knew it she was twenty-four, single and still living with her parents. Back then she’d led a Jekyll and Hyde sort of an existence. By day she was a very conscientious clerk, slowly working her way up the ranks. By night she was a party animal, more than capable of juggling a few semi-serious boyfriends at the same time.
Or was it really only a few? At one stage she’d reckoned that during the previous six months she had woken up in some bloke or other’s bed more often than her own.
And yes, her straight-laced mother had opined on that particular habit!
After sixth form Debs had gone off to university, racking up qualifications over a period of six or seven years. The two of them had been through the same schools together and were friends without being best mates. But they hadn’t even tried to keep in touch while she was away. Bumping into her again (in Ms Hyde persona, in a sordid local nightclub) had been totally accidental. And, surprisingly, it had also been a very warm reunion; kisses had been exchanged and they’d agreed to meet up over the weekend.
How did I forget about a fellow partygoer like Debs? Joanna had wondered. Life and soul or what!!
It was half an hour into their follow-up meeting, when Debs insisted on buying consecutive rounds, that she realized she’d been invited out on a date.
As in a girl-on-girl date!
Blushing furiously, Joanna had explained she didn’t date that way.
‘I do,’ Debs had replied with a grin. ‘And I’d definitely recommend it. Finding out that I’m bi was the biggest and best discovery of my university life. But don’t worry; I can do friends as well as dates. And if we’re only going to be friends, you can get the drinks in after all.’