She let him kiss her passionately. She pushed her back against his hands, inviting them to travel down further until they landed on her supple buttocks. Every time he seemed to be out of breath, she darted her tongue further and thrusted faster, stronger. He stayed in her mouth longer and breathed what little air there was from within her mouth. Her calves were strained, her heels arched out from her high heels to support her upward posture, meeting the mouth of her taller counterpart. Her short skirt was pulled high enough to give glimpses of her naked flesh when he squeezed her tattooed buttocks by a handful. She flung one arm around his neck to provide pull support, with another lost between the two entwined bodies. From the side of her stretched arm, a dewy firm mound peeked out from her little black dress, which left her back bare. Under the private club's rotating lights, the reflection of the white
"It's going to be fun. C'mon. What's the big deal? Why are you so timid all of a sudden?" Rhonda coaxed Gina; she declined to meet new people that night. Rhonda had turned up at Gina's doorstep unannounced at 9 pm, bringing with her a conviction in her old friend Gina agreeing to an impromptu Saturday night out plan. "We haven't been out for two straight Saturdays. This will be the third if we don't go." "Are you keeping count? We just went out last Monday and Tuesday, then Thursday, each night a different crowd. Those don't count?" Gina chuckled; her friend's zest for partying amused her. "I’m too tired tonight. Why don't you just crash here? I have two bottles of excellent reds and a good rum from The Philippines. I feel like talking with you, anyway."
Gina got up from her bean bag, took and refilled their glasses. The thick carpet engulfed her feet as she walked on it. Still thinking of The Boss' appreciation of her feet, she took pleasure in the way the carpet felt under them. She perceived it as caressing. She quivered in delight. As she walked back from the integrated kitchen to the living room and past the dining area, she looked at her friend, who stole the time to text people. Rhonda was sitting on the plush, sectional sofa facing a wall adorned with a large, red abstract painting of a naked Gina, illuminated by accent lighting. In front of the sofa, was a low rectangular table. Printed papers with markings and annotations were scattered atop the table. Proposals and invoices; the new and completed projects that Gina was working on when Rhonda knocked on the door of her cute little townhouse.&
Last night's party was wild. She had been heavily intoxicated when somebody brought her home and tucked her in bed. The last she checked the time was 2 a.m. Then she remembered nothing. The daily alarm awakened her at 6 o'clock. Her head was heavy; this was a serious hangover. She sat herself up and noticed that Rhonda was lying next to her, fast asleep. Both were still in their party dresses. Instinctively, she reached inside her dress and found she still had her panties on. There had to be a lot of touching and groping last night, but now she was sure that nothing went beyond that—nothing had penetrated her. Rhonda? She thought the same must have happened with Rhonda, otherwise, she wouldn't be here passing out in her apartment.
It was Sunday, over breakfast and the two gentlemen were quite friendly, so Gina got in the mood and ventured into asking a question that could have been disadvantageous to her if the response had been negative. "What do you think of tattoos? Especially on women?" The gentlemen grinned and looked at each other. Abram thought The Boss should respond. "I think tattoos, proper ones, are a work of art. They add to the beauty," he said. "Why, you have one you want to show us?" he teased. "Yes, I do, and you have seen it already. Would you like me to add more?" Gina said, h
"Oh, goodness! Why are you still in bed?" Gina found Rhonda on the bed, lying down, watching a Netflix series, gliding into the late Sunday afternoon with nothing to desire except a full glass of red, fully naked for nobody to appreciate. Until now. She yawned and stretched, pulling everything taut. Flat stomach, muscled thighs, and pert breasts. She smirked, reached for the glass, and downed a swig of her wine insolently—spilled the liquid off her lips, wetting her breasts, then her stomach. Gina admired her friend's body with no envy, as she knew hers was as good if not better. Her legs were as muscled as Rhonda's, but being two inches taller, her calves curved further and tapered toward her ankle more gracefully. Her breasts were fuller and rounder, and the nipples were pinkish, while Rhonda's were light
Gina dressed in a black pin-striped suit and matching high-heeled boots, while Rhonda wore a gray suit with black stilettos. Their pants clung tightly to their shapely upper thighs and outlined the curves of their derrières, but fell loose from their knees. Nothing was exposed except their glorious selves. The ladies' silky, fine hair exhibited a sharp contrast with their suits—auburn against black and brunette on gray. The same Eggs and Flowers' concierge escorted them to the Boss' private room. As the alluring pair walked by, the other patrons wondered which table these fine creatures would be seated at."They must be headed to Georg's table," said one fine-looking gentleman to the other three envious colleagues seated around him—two men and one particularly handsome female.
Rhonda's first order of business was to arrange the first dinner with Trelleco's chief officers. This wouldn't be simple calls to their secretaries asking them to schedule it in their bosses' calendar. Nevertheless, Rhonda tried the said customary method first, and of course, they were all busy and offered no alternative date. "Can't Abram just tell them to set aside time to meet with us over dinner? He is the big boss, isn't he?" Rhonda asked Gina. Gina explained Abram had to stay in the background to be perceived as impartial over any of the two competing companies. Choosing them over Kronos had to come unanimously from his executive team. Abram could tilt the balance once they entered the later stage of negotiations, but for now, the
Nothing momentous was going on in the office. Every consultant was trying to be at the clients' premises at least fifty percent of the time to earn billable hours. Those who stayed in the office did so quietly and were in shame. They felt useless and were afraid that the company would see them as a cost burden. Except for Dungi. As Gina entered Abalido & Quinaeros' headquarters and walked toward her glass-walled office, she saw Dungi on the phone, like he always was, loitering in the halls, king of the almost-empty workplace. Gina was never sure what his contribution was as a Program Manager, other than offloading the administrative workloads of the swamped project managers and consultants—which he hadn’t been doing. His function was to collate progress reports and integrate them into a single vi