Norma Egan - Naughty Lady

Linda couldn't return the compliment, so she just grinned and worked her hips even faster, till Fred's swollen cock was making a loud lewd squishing noise in her juicy tight box. His face got redder and redder with lust as she fucked him.

That was good, because Linda wanted to give him the fuck of his life, one he'd never forget. It could mean a lot to her career if Fred spoke well of her to Frank. She pumped her gushing pussy furiously on the hard little rod of his cock-and suddenly felt herself starting to come.

"Oh, God," Linda gasped, "I'M COMING."

She ground her pussy helplessly around Fred's rock-hard little dick, and her violently contracting cunt muscles milked his swollen cock. Fred gave a blissful yelp and shot his load, overflowing her small twat with sticky steamy come. They writhed together for long delicious moments before his cock shriveled and slipped out of her.

"Fantastic," Fred sighed. "You're quite a girl, Linda."

"Thank you, Fred," she purred. "You're quite a guy."

That was a lie, of course, but she intended to do everything in her power to impress the man. They spent one more day and night together on the yacht, during which Linda used every trick she knew to excite him in bed. Fred left the yacht party totally exhausted-and grinning blissfully.

Monday morning Frank Brooks called Linda into his office. "The yacht party went very well," he told her, "and we've got contracts with most of the men. You girls did very well, but especially you, Linda. I'll be considering you for promotion next time there's an opening."

Linda went away with that curious empty feeling. Not for the first time, she wondered if her career was worth prostituting her body. She passed Millie in the hallway, and the tall blonde stopped her.

"Hey, honey, why the long face?" Millie asked.

"Oh, I don't know." Linda sighed. "I guess it's what we had to do this weekend."

"Look, kid," Millie said firmly, "would you rather be waiting tables in some greasy spoon? Or stuck home with a flock of runny-nosed little kids? Believe me, this job is worth all the hassle."

In the end Linda had to agree. Her career came before anything-even her ideals.

A month after the yacht party, Frank Brooks called the female staff together and announced that there was one opening for an assistant editor of "Scene." "The most qualified girl will be chosen," Brooks said. "I'll announce my decision in a week."

Millie and Linda exchanged cynical glances. They both knew what "most qualified" meant-the girl who balled Frank Brooks the best. The other women staff members seemed to understand that, too, judging from the determined looks on their faces.

"Well, kid," Millie said to Linda, "I hope this isn't the end of our friendship, but may the best girl win." She laughed bitterly.

Linda wanted to say "good luck" to Millie, but she couldn't get the words out because she really didn't mean it. Much as she liked Millie, she wanted that assistant editorship for herself. It was the best job a woman could possibly get on the staff of "Scene."

The girls on the staff started making frequent visits to Frank Brooks' office, and most of them stayed half an hour and came out flushed and tousled. Linda hung back from trying for the job so blatantly. She didn't want to do the same thing as the other girls, just walking into Brooks' office and stripping. She was looking for a bigger, better plan that would guarantee her the job.

A few days before the deadline, she finally found her plan. She read in the paper that Harrison White, publisher of "Scene" and other magazines, would be in town briefly on his way to Europe. The publisher, of course, was much more influential than a mere editor like Frank Brooks.

That evening Linda dressed carefully in a neat blue suit and went to the hotel where Harrison White was staying. She had to argue her way through several clerks and secretaries, but finally she found herself in White's huge suite. Another secretary, the man who was White's personal aide, came into the room.

"I don't know what all this is about, young lady," he said, "but Mr. White is an extremely busy man, so it had better be important."

"It's very important," Linda said gravely. And of course it was-to her. "I must see Mr. White in private."

"Very well," the secretary said, "come this way. He can spare you five minutes."

If Linda's plan worked, the visit was going to last a lot longer than five minutes. She followed the secretary into a large bedroom. There was also a desk in the room, and a tall white-haired man was seated at it, going over some papers. He looked up in annoyance as Linda and the secretary entered the room.

"Sir," the secretary said, "this is Miss Linda Tomson. She says it's urgent that she speak to you in private"

Harrison White glared at Linda. He was in his sixties, tan and fit but definitely aging. His white hair was thin, his once-handsome face lined and tired. He was dressed in a neat dark blue suit. He reminded Linda of a stem professor.

"Very well," White snapped, "but make it quick, Miss Tomson."

The secretary left the room, and Linda approached Harrison White's desk, swinging her hips just slightly to show off her spectacular figure. If White noticed anything, he didn't show it. He just went on glaring.

"Now just what is it you want?" he snapped.

"I want to give you an exhibition of colossal gall," Linda said. "The way you order everybody around, you probably don't see much of that. I thought it might amuse you."

The trace of a smile flickered across White's face, and he said, "You're right, it might be amusing. Go ahead, show me how much gall you have, Miss Tomson."

Linda smiled and said, " 'Scene' is about to hire a woman assistant editor. I want to be the one. I'm very well qualified already, but I know it isn't just my literary talent that will be considered. I'm prepared to do anything you want to get that job."

White's smile faded. "You're asking me to go over Frank Brooks' head," he said. "Why should I do that?"

"You're the big boss, aren't you?" Linda said. "And besides, Mr. White, why should Frank have all the fun? How long since you slept with a girl my age?"

She held her breath waiting for his response. She'd made her big daring speech, and now it was up to Harrison White to decide her fate. She knew Frank wouldn't choose her for the job. He was tired of her. Everything depended on the magazine's aging publisher.

White studied her for a long time and then said. "You certainly do have gall, Miss Tomson. But I admire that. None of the other girls thought of coming to me. Yes, I admire your nerve, so I'm going to give you a chance. Go lock the bedroom door."

As Linda moved to obey, White spoke into the intercom on his desk: "Peterson, no calls or visitors for the next half hour."

Linda locked the door, her heart pounding. She was relieved that White had accepted her proposition, but she still had to prove herself. A man with his wealth and power must have had thousands of women, and he wouldn't be easily impressed.

"All right, Miss Tomson." Harrison White said briskly, "undress. Let's get on with it. I have a lot to do."

Linda approached within a few feet of his desk and started unbuttoning her suit jacket. White looked at her calmly, almost coldly. If he felt any arousal for her, he didn't show it. Those cold grey eyes made Linda uncomfortable as she drew off her jacket and began unbuttoning her white silk blouse.

"You've slept with Frank, I assume," White said.

"Yes, sir," Linda said, blushing.

"And your other bosses on the staff?" he said.

"Yes, sir," Linda said. She felt terribly ashamed to make those admissions, but she didn't want White to catch her in any lies.

"And how do you feel about having to sleep with your bosses in order to keep your job?" White asked.