From Humble Beginnings (Joe Steel)

by Ian Harwood

  Juliet laughs. "Dad said you’d react like this.”

  I glare at her. “Then why the hell didn’t you tell me in private?” My glare finds a companion in Bernard’s.

  “It’s the way I wanted it doing,” he grits out and I can tell he’s as annoyed as me.

  “Why are you retiring now anyway? Have the doctors advised it?”

  With his angina controlled by medication after a slight hiccup after the bypass that had caused it to flare up again, Bernard was as right as he ever would be. All of his vices had fallen by the wayside, especially with Juliet in his office. There were no sneaky cigars or tumblers of Armagnac to enjoy when the mood took him. And as far as I can tell, no sneaky shags to brighten up his day.

  Whenever Cass and Bernard are in the same room, he literally exudes guilt and Cass is the Iron Queen incarnate.

  “Yes, but they’ve been telling me to quit for years.” Bernard shrugs. “It’s time. That’s all. I’ll still keep my fingers dipped in; I’m not abandoning the company. But it’s a young man’s game and a young man’s fight. I’ve set us up for some hard years; it won’t be easy breaching the markets we want to and you’ll have a struggle on your hands. But you’re hard enough to make it look easy.” A smile twitches along his lips. “And with Juliet at your side, you’ll be indestructible.” He sighs, his eyes switching from me to her and I can tell he’s pleased with our engagement. Getting to his feet, he’s surprisingly spritely for a man of his years and recently ill-health. He winks down at us and says, “Enjoy the party. I intend to.”

  With that, he wanders off to the crowd and leaves Juliet and I alone. I’m still shell-shocked.

  I’ve done it.

  I’m M. D.

  Poor, uneducated, unskilled worker bee… to one of the elite.

  Amazing how a title can change all the misconceptions you had about yourself. How it justifies the years of dedication, of hopelessly aiming, praying that one day you’ll have everything you dreamed of.

  Juliet strokes my hand and jolts me from my thoughts. “You’re not mad at me, are you? It was dad’s idea.”

  I snort. “I know your father well enough to see his mischief is at play here.”

  “How do you feel?”

  My head shakes of its own volition. How do I feel? Exhilarated? Elated? “I can’t describe it.”

  “You’re happy though, right?” she teases, her hand running over my arm, up to my shoulder and then to curl about my throat. Her fingers gently massage there and I lift my own hand to catch hers.

  “Of course. Aren’t you pissed off?”

  Her smile is gentle as she shakes her head. “Of course not! I never wanted dad’s position. I just wanted to be a part of the business he’s dedicated his life to. And when he was so anti me doing just that, I wanted it all the more.”

  “That’s because you’re a pain in the arse.”

  “And I’m all yours,” she murmurs, moving from her seat to climb into my lap. Without as much as a bye your leave, she presses her mouth to mine and her lips instantly separate, her tongue popping out and prodding at the seal of mine.

  Both arms come up and clasp about my neck, arching her back so that her breasts rub against my chest. In a silky slim-fitting dress that shows her ripe slenderness, she looks hotter than hell. When she walked out of the bedroom earlier on, I lusted after this moment and now it’s here, I’m not disappointed.

  Through the soft, slinky fabric, I can feel the jut of her nipples through the fine linen of my own shirt. She’s not wearing a bra and knowing that the majority of the crowd is at the back of the room, I slip a hand through the deep-V of her neckline and cup the soft swell. The insistent prod of the nub has my mouth watering. Not that it does me much good, her lips have caught mine and they’re not about to let go.

  Her arms move, her hands retreating to my shoulders to rub there a little, almost soothing the lust she urged into creation earlier by playing with fire before our speeches and at the same time, making me feel like a cosseted pet in need of a stroke or two for comfort.

  My spine tenses, waiting for her next move. I haven’t failed to notice that her hands are slipping further and further down. They cup my waist, before trailing down to my hips and then they burrow between us.

  Before she can get anywhere near my cock, I whisper, “No. Let’s go to our room.”

  Even in the shadows, I can see the glint in her eyes. “Why? No one can see us here.”

  “I’m not fucking you here!” My earlier beliefs that I’ve created a monster come back to bite me on the bum.

  Her cheeks blush at my coarseness; don’t be fooled. It’s a blush of a different variety. Mortification is not what she’s feeling.

  “Why not?” Before I can say a word, she jumps off my knee and to the floor. Crawling under the tablecloth to the underside of the table, I half expect to feel her hands at my groin again. Not on display, I’m about to settle back for the ride, but when she goes nowhere near me; I roll my eyes and drop to my knees beside my seat.

  I’m too old for this jungle-jim shit.

  Sighing, I follow, crawling underneath. At the same time, the music explodes and lights begin to flash as the party gets going in earnest.

  Even as far away as we are from the front of the room, the lights flicker through the fine cotton of the tablecloths and I can see what Juliet was doing in my absence.

  If my dick wasn’t already hard, then it’s just gone from insistently erect to stone-like.

  Naked, legs spread, hands between her legs, back arched, Juliet is a sex goddess incarnate.

  Removing my phone from my pocket, I turn on the flashlight and place it between her legs for a front seat view of her fingers playing with her clit, her ring and little fingers slipping inside her body as she fucks herself. At the sudden light, she jerks up, obviously not wanting me to photograph her. Spying that the phone was between her legs and not controlled by me, she settles back to working herself into a climax.

  That faint nervousness endears her to me. Reminds me that she’s my sexual monster and no one else’s. This side of her nature has only been revealed to me and if I have my way, no other bastard will get to see her like this.

  In so many ways, she’s a free spirit. A hedonist. And then, her inexperience and uncertainty comes to the fore and makes me tumble all the more into love with her.

  I watch as her hips begin to jerk and her fingers, no longer lazily strumming her clit, begin to work her sex in earnest. My own hands shoot out and grab her wrists to stop her from touching herself. Crawling closer to her, I manoeuvre myself between her legs and drop down. My mouth encompasses the almost-vibrating nubbin of her clit; I suckle and tease with my lips. Kiss and caress, lick and suck. And as I flicker my tongue on the underside, urging a moan and a subsequent shriek from her, my hands are busy unfastening my zip.

  Once my cock is free, I waste no time and climb upwards. The instant my hips are an inch away from hers, I place the already leaking head of my dick to her pussy and begin to thrust into her.

  A keening cry escapes her and I settle myself atop Juliet, so that all of my weight is on her. I rest my forearms on either side of her head and look down. Surrounded by me, I catch her gaze and begin to pump my hips. Her legs immediately come up and grip my hips, her bum arches to urge me into a faster pace. But I ignore her. Slow and steady, I claim every inch of her and make sure that my pelvis rubs against the sensitive nub at the very upper curve of her sex. Each jolt has a faint shriek escaping her throat. It’s almost drowned in the cacophony of noise coming from the party, but I’m straining to hear every sound she whimpers or groans out. They’re all that interest me. They stoke my own need higher to hear this woman, my woman moan for me.

  It’s atavistic, unlikely for a very modern man, but then, what I feel for Juliet isn’t modern. I don’t want to fuck her and leave her. I want to fuck her and fuck her and fuck her until I’m empty and in need of a top up of energy. Then I want to return to her pussy and rut i
n her. Hear her cries and sighs of pleasure. Revel in her climaxes and joy. I’ll never get tired of hearing them.

  Dragging my cock through every inch of her channel, I stoke her fires until her pussy begins to clench down on my dick. Her fingers dig into my shoulders, her nails biting and scraping down to grab at my butt. Her joined ankles and now her hands urge my butt into fucking her harder, faster.

  This time, I comply.

  And within four thrusts, her orgasm shoots through her. Her pussy slams down on my cock, almost to the point of pain. Juliet is already tight, this only makes it that much of a fight to impale her on my dick. But what a struggle.

  Letting her pussy milk me, my hips cease their movements and with our breaths intermingling, I enjoy the fluttering of internal muscles as they rock me into a climax that’s almost painful.

  My gut aches with tension as my muscles freeze and lock down. As pleasure moves along my nerve endings, setting them alight with a fire that only Juliet allows to burn so brightly.

  My forehead drops to the carpet beside her head and my hips jerk in sensory reaction. Her moan is loud but music to my ears.

  I want to collapse on her, but don’t. I roll to the side and urge her on top of me. The mingled juices of what we’ve just done slip down to coat the base of my shaft, but I need a shower anyway and Juliet can just clean me up later on.

  My lips twitch at the thought and in our den, our own private little haven in a world of mayhem, the music pulses around us, the noise of the party beats like a drum, and lights continue to flicker through the tablecloths but we don’t hear it nor do we see it.

  How long we stayed there, I don’t know. Wrapped up in each other, my hands covering her bum and holding her close to me, as close as I can get to her. These moments of privacy with the only woman who has ever meant anything to me soothe my earlier agitation at learning of my new role in the company.

  There’ll be people who accuse me –silently, of course- of marrying her for her money and to get close to her father.

  But at least, Juliet knows that’s so far from the truth, it’s laughable.

  I needed no one to attain my goals, and the solitary path has now come to an end. I have this woman at my side, she’s my partner. My equal. Together we can move mountains and I, for one, look forward to it.

  Eventually, slapping her butt, I manoeuvre her off me. She was dozing, incredibly, but I guess that’s a sign of how much she trusts me. How protected she feels with me.

  It doesn’t take long to dress her, even though her limbs are as limp as a doll's. Realizing that I’ve fucked her into exhaustion, I can’t deny I strut towards the exit of the function room. We have to pass through the still on-going party, but on the back wall, I can see an illuminated clock and calculate that we were hidden in our den for no less than one hour!

  Time flies when you’re having fun.

  Amused at the thought, I clutch Juliet close to my side and when I fail to feel the usual, uncomfortable sensation of my mobile digging into my ribs, I grimace in irritation. I must have left it under the table. Propping Juliet up against a table close to the door, I press a kiss to her lips and murmur, “I left my mobile. Be back in a second.”

  Meandering through the tables, I retreat to the head of them all and duck underneath. The light has long since flickered off, draining the battery to almost ten per cent and automatically switching the system on to conservation mode- that’s why I didn’t spot it as we retreated from our den… which reeks of sex.

  Grinning, I make a start towards Juliet again and with my eyes focused ahead and in the dim light, fail to spot the limp foot on the floor. Tripping, I manage to grip the edge of the table before I fall flat on my face. On the brink of yelling at some idiot, I realize that it’s Poppy. Her snores are heavy, they rattle through her chest and she stinks of booze.

  Peering closely at her, I realize my tripping over her has urged her into slipping off the side of her chair so that her back is flat on the ground and her legs are up in the air. She’s that pissed she doesn’t even realize what’s happened.

  Grunting in disgust, I’m about to help her upright and into some semblance of decency, when the lights flicker on, indicating that the party is coming to an end and that clean-up is about to start.

  With her legs wavering in the air, her skirt is almost around her hips.

  It would seem that PR Poppy, the pain in the arse, is a fan of going commando.

  Feeling like a pervert, I can’t help but reach for my phone and turn on the camera app. She’s such a pain in the arse that any fuel I have against her is something worth having.

  Taking a photo, titling it Poppy No-Knickers, I upload it into an email and send it to her.

  With a big grin on my face, I remove the chair so that she’s no longer resting at a weird angle and that she’s resting fully on the floor. Her skirt now covers her private bits, but I have evidence.

  And the next time she bitches at me, that she grouses at me, that she calls and/or slates me, well, she won’t be able to. Because I have this over her head. It doesn’t matter that I’m the head of the company now. Her arrogance knows no bounds. But this will shut her up like nobody’s business.

  Call me a bastard, but hey, it’s dog eat dog.

  And the moral of this story is…

  If you want to go commando, then make sure you don’t get pissed and flash it to all and sundry.

  With a perfect ending for a pretty perfect night, I whistle and return to Juliet’s side.

  Life could not be better.

  Epilogue

  My adventures are far from over; in fact, they’re only just beginning. With Juliet by my side, things are bound to be even more interesting.

  On my way to the top, I’ve learnt that success does not bring peace of mind. In fact, it brings more problems. Some people might say that it’s worth it and others not, but I’ve strived for this moment. Strived to reach the top and now I’m there, I intend to enjoy every minute of it.

  I hope you’ve enjoyed the trials and tribulations of Bergamo. I’d like to say that there’ll be no more high jinks over knicker factories and local police playing cowboys at dawn, but who knows. My life has never been boring and I doubt it’ll start now.

  If I meet you in the next book, bring a fan.

  My life is about to get hotter.

  Joe Steel

  Managing Director