Neil Forit - Lust Takes A Holiday

"For goodness sake, dear lady. Sit down," Tomley chided her as she stood nervously in front of his desk.

"Y-yes sir," she stammered, still confused, but immediately obeying his order.

"Don't call me sir and don't call me doctor," he insisted. "Call me Ralph and I'll call you Dinah. We're all on a first name basis here."

"Yes, Doctor… I mean, Ralph."

"Good, that's much better. Now tell me something. How long have you been married to that husband of yours?"

"Six months," she replied to the unexpected question.

"Humph. Does he service you well?"

Service me well?… what in the world did he mean by that, Dinah asked herself in shocked surprise. Is he asking me to tell him about the intimacies of my sex life? And yet she could see he wasn't just making some sort of crude joke. He fully expected an answer.

"I… I don't know what you mean."

"Come, come, you know exactly what I mean. It's just a clinical question. Do you know what we do at the Benton Research Institute all day? We watch fish and crabs having intercourse with each other. It's a nice change to talk about people doing it once in a while."

Dinah's mouth gaped open as she tried to convince herself she was not living in a dream. It was too incredible to be true that a respected scientist whom she'd only met once would be asking her questions about her sex life. She could feel a hot blush rising to her cheeks as he stared at her without the slightest trace of embarrassment.

"Never mind," he said finally. "I can see you're the prudish type."

The young redhead stammered without saying anything and squirmed uncomfortably in her chair. Ralph Tomley's eyes were burning into her like hot coals, raking lewdly over her body as though trying to penetrate her clothing. For a moment she felt like rising from her chair and suddenly running from the room, but a kind of weird fascination took hold of her. She felt herself falling into the grip of the director's presence, tiny pleasant sensations welling in her body just from the prurient way he was staring at her.

"Relax," Tomley said at last. "I always make jokes. I just wanted to break the ice. Can't stand formality, damn it."

What kind of game was he playing, she wondered. His lecherous gaze of a moment ago had simply disappeared and now he was sporting a kind, fatherly look on his face. He seemed so calm and self-possessed it was difficult to believe he had asked her such a shocking question just a moment ago.

"I'm sorry," she apologized. "You just caught me off guard, that's all."

"Oh now, don't worry about it. We'll start you working right away, and then you'll get into the swing of things. Your desk is right over there."

Dinah twisted around and peered over her shoulder at a small typing desk in one corner of the room. An electric IBM typewriter stood on it, but otherwise it was clear.

"To begin with, you'll be doing mostly my correspondence and filing, and then as you familiarize yourself with how things run I'll give you more responsibilities. My last secretary left rather abruptly, so I suggest you clean out the desk first thing. After that, there are some letters to be typed… they're in my out basket. Okay, you have enough to do for a while. I should be back shortly."

Briskly, Tomley rose from his desk, waved goodbye and headed out the door, leaving Dinah to breathe a sigh of relief. Thank God, he had a normal side to him after all. But still, he was certainly an eccentric.

Undoubtedly he was just a harmless middle-aged man who enjoyed engaging in flirtation with his female staff, something that could prove annoying, though it certainly wasn't dangerous, she reassured herself.

Still recovering from her shock, Dinah lingered for a moment in the chair by the desk. She tried to think of something pleasant to calm her nerves, but the only thing that came to her mind was the memory of the previous weekend, when she and Fred had made love so beautifully at first and then he had taken her from the rear with blind disregard for her feelings. After he'd done it, she began to think that perhaps it wasn't really wrong after all and the next time she would force herself to actually enjoy it.

That very same night, though, he'd done something that completely put her off. Shortly after dinner, when she was still bruised and aching from his manhandling, he had tried to make her suck and kiss his penis in spite of her protests. Even now the very thought of something that disgusting and degrading made her feel sick in the stomach. She hadn't done it, of course. She had fought and protested every inch of the way and finally blown up at him, which didn't do any good either, because he grew angry in turn and began calling her a frigid bitch. Now he was sulking, giving her the cold shoulder, but what did it matter? She wasn't going to act like a common slut for him or anyone else. There were certain principles she just wasn't going to sacrifice to satisfy her husband's male animal needs. He would just have to learn how to control himself, and that was that.

It was time to stop brooding, she told herself, and get to work, and so she headed over to the typing desk, sliding into the swivel chair and pulling open the top drawer. Sorting through the contents, she found pads, pencils, paper clips, and other sundry equipment which made the previous secretary's presence still very much in evidence. She must have really left in a hurry, Dinah thought, as she found a makeup compact and a half-full pack of cigarettes.

After cleaning and rearranging the drawer, she went on to the next one, finding it completely empty except for an unsealed manila envelope.

There was no name on it, and it didn't appear to be anyone's private property, so out of curiosity she bent back the metal clasp and opened it.

A packet of full color photographic prints slid out and spilled over the desk, much to her surprise. She knew now they were none of her business, but she couldn't help looking at them, and when she did the sight nearly blew her mind. She gasped in horror as she stared at the top print, feeling her heart pounding in her throat. There in perfect focus and brilliant color was a photograph of a man and a woman locked in a lewd vile embrace. They were sprawled out on a bed with the woman's head in between the man's legs and her lips locked around his big swollen penis. The man for his part, had likewise buried his head between her thighs and obviously had his mouth on her vagina.

"Oh God," she gasped as her eyes dwelled on the expression on the woman's face. She was actually enjoying what she was doing. Her eyes glowed with rapture, her face was twisted in a lewd grimace of abandoned frenzy. It was sick, disgusting! It almost made her want to throw up, and quickly she gathered up the photos and slipped them back into the envelope. But what would she do with it? She couldn't throw it away, because after all it was someone else's private property, and she certainly wasn't going to mention the matter to Ralph Tomley. No, the only thing to do was to leave the envelope with its filthy contents right where it was. She certainly hadn't put it there to begin with, and there was no way she could be held responsible.

She was just about to place the envelope back in the drawer when a kind of perverse curiosity overcame her. She had no idea what was behind it, but she found herself reopening the clasp once again, as though her hands were being maneuvered by some sinister, invisible force.

Her fingers trembling, she set the first photo aside and fixed her eyes on the second one in the series. The same girl was now crouching on the floor between the wide-splayed legs of the man, who was sitting on the edge of the bed. Her mouth was tightly wrapped around his thickly protruding cock, and her fingers were cupping his testicles. The expression on her face was taut and intense, and it looked as though she was in the process of actually swallowing the sperm-inflated organ.