323

"You'd better get going, Miss Callahan," he said. "Drive safely. And, might I suggest picking a safer parking spot from now on?"

Emily slipped into her car, and Tom pushed the door closed, then leaned close to the window.

"By the way," he growled, "next time you try to play games, like you did with my phone, it won't be your mouth I fuck as punishment."

She stared into his eyes as she reached for the window control.

"Like I said before: be a good little girl, and no one else will see those pictures," he pledged.

Giving him a feigned smile, she raised the window.

"Goodnight, ma'am," he mocked, as she backed out of the parking space.

Tom retrieved his jacket and returned to the lobby, entering just as Phil exited the elevator. He walked past Tom and out the door, without saying a word.

"Man, that girl's got some nice tits," Frank mentioned, as Tom sat down behind the security counter and once again pulled out his phone.

"Sure does," Tom agreed, without lifting his eyes.

"I'd love to get my hands on those puppies," Frank continued.

"Yep," Tom agreed.

"Ah, we're both too old for that one," Frank said. "No way either of us would be able to get with her."

"Nope," Tom smiled. "Probably not."

The following Friday, Tom pulled into the parking lot at 9:50. He noticed Emily's car parked in the same spot as the previous week. He smiled.

Another escort job tonight, he thought.

He began his rounds at the usual time. After checking the first few offices, however, he skipped right to 323. He opened the door and stepped inside. As the week before, he could see light and hear music coming from Phil's office. Closing the outer door, he walked to the illuminated entrance.

Phil -- wearing another suit -- sat in his chair behind the desk. Emily sat across from him. She wore a white button-up shirt, a loose, knee-length, blue skirt, white stockings, and black high heels.

"Hmmm, not as much fun as last Friday night," Tom observed. "Let's see if we can change that."

Removing a digital camera -- one capable of shooting video -- from his pocket, he set it on a bookshelf inside the office door, aimed it toward the desk, and began recording.

"I'm glad you two didn't start without me this time," he said.

"What do you want us to do?" Emily asked.

"Well, I've been thinking, since you didn't get to cum last week," Tom answered, "Phil should eat your pussy until you do."

Confused, Emily's head tilted to the side.

"Get undressed, and sit on the desk," Tom told her.

She stood up, pulled her shirt from her skirt, and unbuttoned it. Sliding it off, she draped it over the chair. Her bra quickly joined it, and the two men admired her breasts. After unzipping her skirt, she lowered it, and carefully stepped out.

"You can leave those on," Tom counseled, pointing to the stockings which turned out to be thigh highs. "And, the heels."

"Am I the only one getting naked here?" she questioned.

"For now," Tom said, ogling her ass.

Slipping her fingers inside the waistband of the white lace thong she wore, Emily removed it; bending as she did so, giving Tom an eyeful.

"Sit in front of Phil, and lie back," he lectured.

Emily complied, bending her knees and spreading her legs. Phil remained in his chair, and stared down at Emily's pussy.

"Get to work, Phil," Tom ordered.

"Do I have to get on my knees?" Phil fumed.

"I don't care if you hang from the fucking ceiling," Tom countered. "As long as you make her cum."

Laughter burst from Emily, and she covered her mouth to silence it. Phil scowled at her and she looked away for a moment.

"We don't have all night," Tom remarked.

Phil scooted his chair forward, and lowered his head between Emily's legs. Unsurprisingly, he dove straight in -- no thigh-nibbling or teasing. For several minutes, he licked without much enthusiasm. While Tom watched, he opened his pants and pulled out his cock. He stroked himself as he moved to Emily.

"You know what to do," he said, waving it in front of her face.

Without hesitation, she craned her neck and took the head in her warm mouth. She rolled her tongue over it a few times. He reached out to pinch her nipple and she squealed.

"You like it when it hurts, don't you?" he provoked.

Emily tried to shake her head. His hand traveled to her neck, and he squeezed, lightly. Her left hand topped his hand, trying to pry it away.

"Use a couple fingers, Phil," Tom instructed.

Phil did as directed, easing two fingers to Emily's pussy. Her body stiffened as they entered.

"Lick her clit while you do it," Tom added.

Emily's right hand slipped between her legs, and she used her fingers to pull back the hood, exposing her clit to Phil's tongue. Soon, Emily was moaning as she writhed atop the desk. Tom released her neck, and pulled his cock from her mouth. She gasped for breath.

"Don't stop," she rasped. "Make me cum."

Moments later, her body heaved as the wave of her orgasm crashed over her. She shook for more than a minute before her body relaxed. As her breathing slowed, she gazed up at Tom and smiled. He winked.

"Now what?" Phil inquired, backing away from the desk and standing.

"You can go," Tom informed him.

"What?" Phil sniffed. "You don't want me to fuck her?"

"No," Tom said, sternly. "You don't get to fuck her this week."

Emily sat up on the edge of the desk and lowered her feet to the floor.

"Can I go, too?" she sought.

"You stay right there," Tom charged.

"What do you mean 'this week'?" Phil questioned.

"Maybe I'll let you fuck her next week," Tom proposed.

"Wait," Phil blurted. "I can't do this every Friday. My wife will know something's going on."

Tom glared at him.

"Yeah, it's horrible to have to fuck around with a beautiful, young woman every week," he said.

"Please, I'll give you anything I can," Phil offered. "I can get some money. But, I can't keep doing this."

"What about you?" Tom asked, appraising Emily. "Is anybody going to suspect you of cheating? Do you have a boyfriend, or girlfriend, or anyone who's going to get suspicious?"

"Uh, no. Well... no," Emily stuttered.

"I guess Emily is going to have to keep paying off the debt by herself," Tom opined.

Relief passed over Phil's face. Emily looked shocked.

"But," Tom continued, before Emily could object, "you're going to pay her back."

"How?" Phil retorted.

"Monday morning, you're going to call Human Resources and tell them you need to give Emily a raise," Tom explained. "10 percent should do nicely, I think."

"10 percent?!" Phil sputtered. "Are you crazy? There's no way I can do that much at one time."

"Did I make that sound like a request?" Tom countered.

"They'll..." Phil began.

"I don't care what you tell them," Tom said. "You've got until Monday to think of something."

Phil muttered under his breath.

"You can leave," Tom insisted. "We'll turn off the lights when we're done."

His mouth fell open at the dismissal, but he collected his things and grudgingly left the office.

"Don't mess up my desk," he barked as he walked out.

Emily waited until she heard the outer office door slam before she laughed, again.

"I can't believe you threw him out of his own office," she sang out.

"Yeah," Tom snickered. "He just really annoyed me with that 'do I have to get on my knees' thing."

"Well, I'm glad you made him use his fingers," she confessed. "I don't think I ever would have cum otherwise."

Tom nodded.

"And, I guess I have to thank you for the raise," she shrugged. "I could use the money."

"Make sure you get it," he advised.

"So," Emily prompted, focusing on his semi-erect cock, "what do we do now?"

"Lie back again, so I can fuck you," he pronounced.

Reaching in his pocket, he pulled out a small golden foil packet, and held it up for her inspection. Emily took hold of his penis and stroked it.

"You're not going to protest, or call me an asshole?" he wondered.

"Oh, you're definitely an asshole," she granted. "But, to tell the truth, I need more than Phil barely making me cum once. And, you're bigger than he is."

He stiffened in her hands. Tearing the foil, Tom extracted the condom within.

"Can I tell you something?" she asked, as he rolled the ribbed latex down his shaft.

"Of course," he said.

"I do like it rough," she revealed. "I didn't want to say it in front of Phil."

Tom's right hand drifted between her legs. His fingers brushed along her wet lips, then to her clit. She gasped as he rubbed her button.

"That's good," he proclaimed. "We'll get along just fine then."

"Fuck me," she pleaded.

Raising his hand from her pussy to her lips, he slipped his fingers in her mouth. Her tongue wound around them as she licked them clean. Looking down, he traced her labia with the tip of his cock, then moved it back and forth over her clit. Her body quivered as he teased her.

"I need more," she whispered.

Tom eased the head inside her, and she gasped. He went a little deeper, then retreated. Then, went farther. Deliberately, he worked himself in and out, lubricating his cock with her juices.

"Lie back," he said.

Emily lowered herself to the desk, and brought her knees up. Tom grabbed them as she fully enveloped him. He pulled back until only the head remained inside her, then slid in until his balls rested against her ass. He repeated this over and over; setting a steady pace.

For several minutes, Tom watched her full breasts bounce as his body bumped into hers. Then, he leaned forward -- putting his hands flat on the desk -- and increased the speed and intensity of his efforts.

"That's it," she cooed. "Fuck me."

She clawed at his upper arms as he plunged into her. He could feel the tension building in her body -- like a coiled spring straining for release. Emily cried out, even as she fought for breath.

"Don't stop," she begged. "Please, don't stop!"

"Are you gonna cum for me?" he growled.

"Yes... yes!" she jabbered. "I'm cumming!"

For a couple seconds, she held her breath, and her body went stiff. Her cunt constricted around his cock, squeezing him tightly. Then, she shuddered and shook as an orgasm rocked her.

He struggled to continue fucking her as she writhed. Ultimately, he gave up and satisfied himself with remaining all the way inside her until she stopped shaking. Bending forward, he lowered himself to her. Taking her left nipple in his mouth, he sucked hard, and flicked it with his tongue.

"Oh, shhhhit," she exhaled.

"Are you OK?" he asked.

"Yes," she said. "I needed that."

"There's more where that came from," he told her.

Tom stood and pulled her up to a sitting position, then onto her feet. He spun her, and bent her over, pressing her breasts to the desktop.

"This is what you wanted the whole time, isn't it?" she taunted, looking back at him over her shoulder.

He slapped her ass in response, and she yelped.

"I'll take that as a yes," she mewled.

Wasting no more time, Tom guided his cock to her pussy, and shoved himself into her.

"Fuuuck!" she howled.

Emily tried to stand, but he planted his left hand between her shoulder blades and held her down. The fingers of his right hand gripped her hip -- pressing into her damp flesh. He rammed himself into her again... and again... and again.

They grunted together as he pounded her. He enjoyed the sight of her beautiful ass cheeks rippling each time their bodies collided.

"Yesss," she hissed. "Fuck me like you mean it!"

Tom did just that -- slamming into her. He knew already that he couldn't last much longer. They both trembled, Tom's strokes shortened; he thrust deep inside her and stopped as he erupted.

"Here it comes," he groaned. "I'm gonna cum!"

His hips bucked again and again as his cum filled the condom. His orgasm forced Emily over the edge one more time. Her body heaved -- trapped between him and the desk -- and she tried to reach back to him as they came together.

Tom's body weakened, and he leaned over her back. He kissed her neck as he lay there, resting. Once their breathing slowed, and their heart rates returned to normal, he stood up, cautiously.

Wrapping his fingers around the base of the condom, he let his wilting cock slip from her pussy. His legs threatened to buckle, and he shuffled backward to sit in Phil's chair. He admired Emily's ass as she remained bent over the desk. She twisted around enough to see him.

"You're pretty good with that thing," she purred, motioning toward his crotch.

"Thank you," he chuckled. "You're pretty good yourself."

He stood, and helped her straighten up. She slouched against him, and he steadied her until her legs found their strength.

"We should probably get out of here," Tom suggested.

She smiled and nodded. He watched her dress as he took care of the condom and zipped up.

"Are you OK?" he asked, as he walked over to the bookshelf and retrieved his camera.

"Yes," she answered. "Just exhausted."

"After you clean up, stop by the security desk and request an escort to your car," he instructed.

He'd only been back at the security desk for a minute before Emily appeared. Again, his supervisor nominated him for escort duty. They chatted as he walked her to her car.

"How long have you been with United States Airlines?" he tested.

"Almost four years," she replied. "But, I've only been here for six months. I was in Philadelphia before transferring here."

"Tell me something," Tom said. "How'd this happen? I mean, Phil's twice your age. And, he's married."

"He's actually a really nice guy," she objected.

"Oh, I'm sure he is," Tom hooted.

She remained silent for several moments.

"I don't know," she reflected, eventually. "It just... happened."

Something in her eyes let him know she was lying.

"Bullshit," he declared.

"I swear," she exclaimed, "I didn't mean to have sex with him."

"Well, 28, and already an executive assistant to a VP," he argued. "I'm sure fucking him didn't have anything to do with that."

"I have an MBA," she snapped. "I went to Columbia! I don't have to sleep my way to the top."

She turned to get in her car.

"But, you did," he said.

"And, now I'm trapped," she complained, before slamming the door.

Saturday night, during his first security sweep, he let himself into office 323, and sat down in Emily's chair. He swiveled back and forth as he relaxed in the dim office. Her desk was spotless. He didn't see a single fingerprint or speck of dust on the glass desk protector. Underneath, he saw nothing but lists of corporate phone numbers and e-mail addresses. It took several seconds for a thought to coalesce in the fog inside his mind.

Everyone else has family pictures, or awards, or knick knacks, on their desk and walls -- things to personalize their space, he thought.

Emily didn't have any pictures at all, on her desk, or on the wall. In fact, she had only one thing on her wall. He spun to face the framed diploma hanging beside the desk. A Bachelor's degree from Princeton -- Emily Anne Callahan.

"Huh, good school," he said, out loud.

He sat for several more minutes. Again, something bothered him. A feeling he couldn't shake.

"Six months," he commented to the inky air, as he rose to continue his rounds.

When he returned to the security desk, he used his phone to perform a search on the internet. Finding no links pertaining to his particular Emily Anne Callahan, he searched on several social media sites. Still, he found no accounts that matched Emily.

"28, and zero internet presence?" Tom mumbled to himself.

His search had brought up more questions than it provided answers.

I'm missing something, he thought. This doesn't feel right.

Late Monday afternoon, he entered the parking lot and positioned his car in a spot where he could barely see Emily's Volkswagen. He waited, hoping she wouldn't be working late that night. Just after 5:30, he saw her exit the building carrying a cardboard box.

After putting the box in the passenger's seat of her car, she climbed in and drove off. Carefully, he followed her, wanting to stay close, but forcing himself to keep his distance to avoid being detected. Thankfully, the color of her car made it easy to track. She drove to an apartment complex about 10 miles from work. She parked, and he watched her walk in the building.

Tom waited five minutes, giving her time to get to her apartment -- he didn't want to chance running into her in the lobby. Sure he was in the clear, Tom got out and crossed the blacktop to the building. He peeked through the glass door before entering. The lobby was empty. Inside, he perused the names listed on the mailboxes; he found what he was seeking: E. Callahan -- 2B.

Tapping the nameplate with a fingertip, he considered pressing the corresponding button on the buzzer pad next to the inner door. As he thought about it, the lights on the elevator just inside the door lit up. Tom exited quickly -- wanting to avoid any nosy neighbors, or Dudley Do-right types who might question his presence -- and jogged to his car. He'd just closed the door when Emily emerged from the building, carrying a backpack.

"Shit, that was close," he whistled.

Rather than walk to her Volkswagen, as he expected, Emily approached a black BMW M3 parked a few spaces farther away. He heard an electronic chirp and the headlights flashed as she disarmed the car's alarm. After putting the backpack in the car, she turned and walked to her car. Emily opened the door, and picked up the box she'd carried out of work. She returned to the M3, loaded the box, and then slipped in. Tom heard the engine come to life.

He slouched down in his seat as she drove past him and exited the parking lot. Again, Tom followed. She drove into a residential neighborhood a few miles from her apartment. After several turns, she parked in the driveway of a small split-level ranch style house. Half a block away, he pulled to the curb. She walked to the front door, pulled the mail from the box mounted on the wall, then unlocked the door and went inside.

This time, Tom waited 10 minutes before he got out of his car and approached the house. He rang the doorbell twice, then turned to survey the neighborhood. Hearing the door open, he turned back. She was wearing an ankle-length, red, silk robe. She stopped cold, staring at him, confused.

"Well, this is a much nicer neighborhood than where your apartment is," he said.

It took several seconds for her to gather herself. Before she spoke, she looked past him, as if checking to see if anyone else saw him.

"Now you're adding stalking to blackmail?" she stated more than asked. "What are you doing here?"

"Thanks, I'd love to come in," he volunteered, taking a step toward her.

Reluctantly, she stepped back to let him in the house, then closed the door quickly.

"I'm just here... house-sitting... for a friend," she stammered, spinning toward him.

"Uh huh," he muttered, dubiously. "Driving their car, too?"

Emily hesitated, as if searching for an answer.

"Is this her robe?" he goaded, reaching out to touch the material. "Nice."

For a moment, she tugged the material tightly around herself. Then, her expression changed. Pulling the robe open, she let it slip over her shoulders, and fall to the floor. She wore only a black cotton bra and panty set. His eyes traveled over her body. Rotating slowly, she sauntered toward a hallway.

"Come on," she urged, then disappeared from view.

Tom followed. Catching up, he watched her ass sway back and forth. She turned into a bedroom. When he entered, she stood beside the bed. He approached and she slapped his face.

"Don't you ever follow me again," she fumed.

His hands came up and the heels of his palms slammed into her shoulders, propelling her backward. She tumbled onto the bed.