Amber’s New Job Ch. 02

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The word yoga actually means “to join together.” Obviously, this is very appropriate when discussing yoga and its connection to sex. Traditionally, Tantra followers viewed sexual connections as the ultimate form of yoga.

Traditionally, many Tantrics practiced hatha yoga in the nude. This was partly just for convenience’s sake, simply to allow unrestricted freedom of movement. But it was also to help encourage an erotically charged atmosphere — to get the sexual energies flowing.

— Fadi Naabi —

On Monday I appeared for work. There I met Denise, the secretary/paralegal who was also Ron’s sister. Denise was thirty-five with long brown hair that reached her ass, a curvy figure, impressive chest, and killer legs. Her round wide round face featured large green eyes, a prominent jaw, and a large mouth with full lips. She probably could lose fifteen pounds, but some of that weight was sitting in those boobs. She was wearing tight jeans and cowboy boots. I liked her immediately; she was a ball, upbeat and funny with a definite country air to her.

We gathered in Michelle’s office, which was as neat, meticulous, and classy as her husband’s a mess. Denise and I were to spend the morning working in the rear conference room organizing documents. There, Denise briefly related her life story. Three months pregnant and eighteen years old, she had married her high school sweetheart. The marriage had been a disaster. Both she and her husband had a problem with alcohol and when, after two years, she sobered up, she discovered that, among other things, he was much easier to tolerate when she was drunk. He also stunk in the sack. One night, after a big fight, she retreated to her parents’ home to find them on vacation and her baby brother home alone. He held her when she cried, gave her “one of his amazing back rubs,” and, having driven her to the peak of sexual arousal, made love to her. It was the night she discovered how great sex could be.

“Honey, I’m not like Michelle or what they have planned for you. I don’t use sex to get what I want, other than, of course, sex. I never say no to a good fuck.”

Her phone line buzzed.

“That would be my brother. It’s time for his blow job.”

At the doorway she turned and faced me. “I like woman too and never play hard to get. So anytime you’re interested, let me know.

Not quite sure of the office protocol, I continued working on the assignment.

* * * *

I’d been employed about a month when Michelle, on a Friday afternoon, stuck her head in my office and let me know that we’d be taking the rest of the afternoon off to attend a private yoga session. She deflected my protest that I had no clothes. She gad picked out my outfit; it was in the car. On the way out we stopped at Ron’s office. Denise, her jeans puddled on the floor, her tits pressed against a hastily cleared section of his desk, was taking Ron’s fat dick up her ass. She was shoving back at him as hard as he was slamming it to her.

“FUCK ME BABY BROTHER, FUCK YOUR SLUTTY SISTER, MAKE HER FUCKING COME YOU FUCKING STUD, YOU COCK FUCKING GOD.”

Michelle caught his attention, which he acknowledged with a slight nod of his head. We locked the door on the way out. Michelle and I drove in her Jaguar to a sumptuous private residence; half a dozen cars were parked in the circular drive way. And not just any cars: there was a Mercedes, two BMW’s, a Lexus, and a couple of Cadillacs.

Michelle and I were greeted at the door by a handsome Latin American maid and ushered to a large bathroom where we changed. I guess I’d expected traditional yoga clothes, something like full body tights. What Michelle provided was far more provocative. The two spaghetti straps of the Kora Top tied around my neck, exposing my shoulders and upper back; its mid-drift cut flattered my waist. The bottoms were the size of a small bikini and form fitting.

I followed Michelle to a large room in which six women were waiting. They were all dressed in clothing like ours, practical yet sexy and revealing. The room was bathed in natural light and featured lush, soothing colors, expensive rugs and wall hangings, and cushions scattered against the walls. There was a faint smell of an intoxicating incense; comforting music played from invisible speakers.

Michelle had let everyone know she was bringing a guest; the women greeted me by name and with hugs. I recognized our mayor, a striking woman in her late 40’s with long straight black hair. I was also familiar with Diedre Jones, the executive assistant to our county chairperson. I had heard stories about people who underestimated her – although in her mid-thirties she still maintained the looks of the beauty queen she had been – and were quickly harpooned on her aggressive intellect. Finally there was Candace Janari. As a junior Candace had been selected to the Associated Press Second Team All-American basketball team. Expectations for her senior year were sky high. Her powerful athletic body was topped illegal bahis by a strong face and hair in corn rows. The other three woman, whom I’d get to know, were all trim, lovely, and leaders in our community.

Our yoga teacher appeared. She was Indian. Her tight body displayed her devotion to her craft. She had dark brown hair tied in a pony tail that approached her waist, light brown skin, deep decorous brown eyes, a strong nose, and stood a little over five feet tall. She introduced herself as Esha, which she explained meant “desire.” After ensuring that I’ been introduced to the class, she announced that, as tradition dictated when there was a new student, today would be devoted to Tantric yoga. That won murmurs of approval.

I may have been the worst pupil in the class, but I’m pretty flexible and did a yeoman’s job of keeping up. As we moved through the poses and lost ourselves in our breathing, I found myself becoming increasingly aroused. Unsuccessfully, I tried pushing the thoughts from my mind. I glanced around to see if anyone noticed my blushing, but all the woman were immersed in their own feelings, their faces masks of pleasure and, I thought, sexual desire.

“For our final two poses, please disrobe.”

That popped my eyes opened. Esha noticed. She assured me I did not need to do so if it made me uncomfortable, but when no one objected I joined in.

As we moved through the final two poses my arousal increased, but it was an arousal unlike any I’d experienced before. Traditionally it was hot guys, and Michelle, who turned me on, but this felt as if generated internally, like I was tapping into the core of my own sexuality, unleashing some innate sexual energy. I took a peek at the rest of room. I was not alone. Breasts were flushed with blood, nipples erect, and everyone’s face shone with lust. The scent of our arousal mingled with the incense, creating an erotic perfume.

After we completed the final pose, Esha led us in a short meditation and set of breathing exercises. My mind was crowded with carnal images. When finally, at her direction, I opened my eyes I saw the mayor, on all fours, crawling towards me. She tilted her head and brought her mouth to mine, our tongues coming together in slow sensual motion. I heard the excited utterances of the other women in the room as bodies moved against each other, mouths explored breasts, lips met lips, fingers found dripping cunts yearning for attention.

The mayor kept advancing and pushed me onto my back. She kissed my mouth, then my neck and ears, then down my body, pausing at my breasts. Her tongue explored my belly button and then moved down to the puddle of desire between my legs. The heads of two other woman, which briefly hovered above me, took my hard nipples and throbbing areolas into their mouths. Before my eyes drifted shut I saw Michelle on her back, legs spread, Candace on top; my god, her powerful muscular body was magnificent. She was grinding her cunt against Michelle’s sex, the look of lust on their faces and passion of their kisses making clear the effect.

My view was blocked when a soft pussy, featuring bright red hair, descended to my face. Drops of warm nectar plopped on my cheeks. I opened my mouth, tickling her clitoris with the tip of my tongue. My lust-befuddled mind recalled the red head, she was in her forties. She worked at the local hospital, our community’s largest employer.

I lazily licked her clitoris while she did most of the work, sliding her sex against my tongue, letting me know where she was most sensitive. That was good because what the mayor was doing between my legs rendered any complicated thought impossible. She expertly managed the arousal that had been fermenting within me for the last hour, not bringing me off, but driving me to a peak and then slowing, letting the waves of desire calm before pushing me up again. I was in a euphoric state; so many sensations crowded together that I was rendered incapable of distinguishing them. The mouths on my breasts, the pussy in my face, the tongue in my sex, they all merged. An orgasm fired off within me and, as I came back down, another, and, then as the lady above me exploded, drenching me with her juice, I was consumed by my final orgasm, a mind-expanding experience which lit up my brain and suffused every inch of my body.

I lay there several minutes. My fingers and toes tingled in delight. When I regained the ability to think, I saw Michelle and Candace leaning on two of the cushions sprinkled around the room, Candace’s strong arm over Michelle’s shoulder. The red head was lying next to me, half conscious and breathing heavily. Her arm lay across my chest. I kissed her sweet lips. She kissed me on the nose and we crawled over to Michelle and Candace. I snuggled in Michelle’s arms.

The maid, now wearing a robe, brought us a pot of warm tea, four china cups with saucers, and four finger vibrators. She removed her robe, displaying a solidly built, almost masculine, body, and joined Esha illegal bahis siteleri and the three other ladies in a daisy chain: five beautiful women eating five lovely cunts. The sound of their slurping complemented the soft sensual music that had played throughout our session. We came on the vibrators as the ladies came on the floor.

* * * *

After showering we gathered together to dry each others’ hair, put on make-up, and exchange local gossip. These ladies knew some high-level gossip. I, who would have been intimidated by any of them a few weeks ago, felt perfectly at home. It was a delightful time.

I got back into the car with Michelle about 5:00 P.M.

“Denise has downloaded the contact information for each of these ladies along with some background information into your phone and computer. These are private direct lines, not public numbers, and should be kept confidential. They will call on you for favors and expect you to do the same.”

I couldn’t understand what any of these woman could want from me and couldn’t imagine bothering them with my college student life. I told Michelle so.

“When the women you met today, and others you shall meet, ask each other for help, they are building relationships of mutual trust. We rely on each other. It is important that you participate. They understand you’re a college student. They also know you won’t always be one. They want you on their side. You’ll be surprised how useful we can be to each other. “

With Michelle’s advice in mind I called the mayor on Monday. She picked up the phone, her caller id tipping her off to whom I was.

“Amber, so good of you to call. I enjoyed meeting you the other day.”

“The pleasure was mine. I hope this is not a bad time.”

“Not at all. I was meeting with my financial officer, but the matter is not pressing. He can wait a few minutes.” I heard the door close as he left the room. “What can I do for you?”

“My parents live on the 200 block of Dunwoodie. The street is deteriorating. I was wondering when it was due to be repaved.”

She buzzed one of her secretaries, asking him to call public works. We exchanged small talk until I heard the secretary’s voice in the background.

“It was scheduled eighteen months from now, but will happen this week. Amber, I think I know the house. What kind of shape is their driveway in?”

“It’s limestone rock. They’ve talked about getting it paved.”

“Well, if the crew misunderstands their instructions and accidentally paves it, please ask them to forgive the city, won’t you.”

“Yes Mayor, I will.”

Mom and Dad were very happy with the unexpected street work. They were going to let the city know about the mistaken paving of their driveway and offer to pay for it, but I explained it was better to let it go. They would not want to get the crew chief who made the error in trouble.

* * * *

I will not recount in detail all the events of the next few years. I rarely hit the college bars and when I did it was to gauge my skill at manipulating the patrons. When I needed a man as an escort, he was drawn from the successful young men in the Richards’ circle. Among my friends I became the alpha female, dominating them. I remained besotted with Michelle. She was lover, mentor, friend, guide, mother figure. From her I learned to control the world around me but as to her I had no control, there was nothing she might ask I wouldn’t do.

I switched majors from English to Business and became a straight “A” student. While I couldn’t reinvent my first two lackadaisical college years, anyone looking at my record would know a new me appeared before my junior year.

I will not relate all of my contributions to Richard & Richard during those years. If I may, I hope two stories will illustrate.

In October of my junior year I was given my first special assignment. Richard & Richard was handling a personal injury case. They estimated its settlement value at around $65,000.00. My job was to deliver a $110,000.00 proposal to the insurance company’s adjustor. My appointment was for 4:30 P.M. I was wearing a conservative mid-calf blue pin-stripped power suit, silk blouse, pearls, and leather gloves. All screamed expensive. The skirt featured a slit, but one that was not immediately obvious. When properly employed it would be perfect for displaying my legs.

I was ushered into his office. He introduced himself as Joseph Damask. I shook his hand with two of my own, holding the contact a bit longer than necessary. I laid my Barton Perreira sunglasses on his desk, handing him our settlement proposal. I crossed my legs, letting the slit move up to my knee, revealing the seam that ran up the back of my stockings, and dangling my four inch silver stilettos heels before him. Absentmindedly, I played with my pearls.

He offered me a bottled water. I asked for a glass. He poured the water into the glass for me. I took a drink and put the glass on his desk, running a well-manicured canlı bahis siteleri finger, featuring deep red nail polish, up and down it length. He struggled to make small talk. He wanted me there. He tried to charm the young lady and I smiled, laughed at his jokes, and pretended not to notice his eyes moving up and down my body.

Eventually, he picked up the settlement proposal.

“Mr. Damask.”

“Please, call me Joe.”

I stood up. “Okay, Joe. Do you mind if I close the blinds on your window? I’m having trouble seeing you through the glare.”

He was ready to pop up and do it himself, but I was already half-way to the window. I took my time, moving with graceful sensuality, giving him the chance to study my form and, when I reached the widow, my back to him, to stare. When done I looked directly at him, holding his eyes on mine. “That’s better, now I can see your handsome face.”

I returned to my chair, moving at the same deliberate pace. As he studied the settlement proposal I re-applied my lipstick and crossed my legs, letting the slit crawl further up my leg.

Finally he said, “Your number seems a bit high.”

“Really Mr. Damask, why do you think so?”

He would not waste the opportunity to show off for the pretty young lady.

“Let me show you something, Amber.”

By this time the offices were empty. He turned to his computer. I walked slowly around his desk and, in order to get a better view, leaned forward, placing my hand on his shoulder for balance. When I closed my hand I ran my fingers across his skin. I heard his sharp intake of breath; my movement had been casual but effective. The smell of my perfume hung in the air.

He directed my attention to the screen. As numbers flashed by he explained, “The company compiles data from all over the country on the severity of injuries. When I code your client’s injuries, I get a much smaller number.” He continued to explain the system.

I bent forward to get a better view of the screen, balancing myself by placing an open hand on his knee. He pretended not to notice.

When he was done I leaned over his desk to pick up the Richards’ proposal. He struggled to surreptitiously view my breasts, but they were well hidden by my jacket and silk blouse.

I returned to my chair and crossed my legs while reviewing the settlement offer. I noted several instances where, if he coded the injuries slightly differently, the Richards’ offer was fair. I smiled, “But I guess you know your job.” I pointed to a picture of a stout middle-aged woman on the counter behind him. “Is that your wife?”

It took him a second to re-focus and answer. “Yes.”

“How long have you been married?”

“Thirty-seven years.”

I stood up. “Do you mind?”

Not waiting for an answer, I walked around his desk, again placed my hand on his shoulder, and picked up the picture. I leaned on his desk, my leg emerging from the slit.

“A young girl like me, I’m always looking for the next exciting thing to do. It must be nice to know exactly what you’ve got. Do you have any daughters, Joey?”

“Yes, a little older than you.”

“Do you look at them and their friends the same way you’ve been looking at me?”

He stammered, a look of guilt flashing across his face. “What do you mean?”

Despite his words, his eyes were locked on my leg; his thickening penis was evident. I sat on his desk and ran my stiletto’s heel along his thigh. “Oh Joey, you don’t have to lie to me. You know exactly what I’m talking about, but don’t worry, I’m not mad.”

He stared, unsure of what to say or do.

Holding the picture of his wife, my heel within an inch of his erect penis, I added. “After thirty-seven years does she take good care of that thing or does it get pedestrian?”

He was flustered, but hooked, completely utterly hooked. “I, well, I guess, I mean she’s not as interested as she used to be.”

My voice low and gentle, in my most coquettish tone, I said, “I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve got kind of a Daddy thing. So if you promise not to tell anyone and not to touch me so you can say you didn’t cheat, I’ll give you a hand.”

His face was flush and he was swallowing furiously, but he managed to squeak out, “I promise.”

“Sit on your desk, Joey.” When he complied I undid his belt and unzipped his pants, clearing his penis. Slowly, carefully, I removed my gloves, laid them on his desk, and retrieved sanitizer from my purse. I took him in my hand. His dick was unremarkable although I suspect it hadn’t been this hard in sometime.

“Ohh, Joey, I’ve been rude, I didn’t ask. Do you mind if I call you Joey?”

“No.”

“So nice and big, I would think your wife would want to play with it all the time.”

I started to jerk him off, but slowly. We did not want a premature orgasm.

“It’s so hard. Your wife must love this thing. You were being modest, weren’t you, I bet you guys do it all the time.”

I massaged a drop of pre-cum into the head of his penis and licked my lips.

“And god Joey, so much jism. Does your wife use her mouth on you? Does she swallow? Do you cum on her face? I bet you spray like a fire hose.”

His response was a low deep moan.

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