The Clara Chronicles Ch. 02

The Clara Chronicles Ch. 02



The following story is for the entertainment of ADULTS ONLY, and contains descriptions of explicit sex. If you are not an adult, or reading sex stories upset you, or you are offended by subjects of a sexual nature – do not read any further!

This story is for entertainment only. It contains adult oriented material. This is a work of fiction. The acts and characters contained within are figments of my imagination and have no basis in fact. I do not practice, advocate, condone or encourage acts portrayed here. The characters in the story are entirely fictional. You need to believe that all of the characters are over the age of eighteen.

This story may not be reproduced in any form for profit without the written permission of the author. This story may be freely distributed with this notice attached.

* * * * * * * * * *

This tale starts immediately after “Vonna’s Photo Shoot” where I had a twofer – both Vonna and her aunt, the infamous Saroya Zenellis. See just how small the world is?

It was Friday, the day before Harriett got home with her transplanted British assistant, who was also to be our new freeloading boarder. I owed Clara, the woman across the street, a meet-up with another one of her nieces, in return for the photography lessons her family friend Viktor and his daughter had provided. Oh yes, and Smith expected me for bowling.

Did I have the balls for all of these commitments? Let the story roll, and hopefully I won’t end up in the gutter…

* * * * * * * * * *

I’d been taking my vacation days one at a time with no regrets and, uncharacteristically, no complaints from Harriett. Since she’d been traveling so much for work, a vacation for her was staying at home, putting her feet up and sucking down cherry-filled chocolates. Although, lately she’s cut down on sweets, and may have even lost a few pounds. Well, good for her!

Vonna’s photo shoot was such a single vacation day off, Thursday to be exact. Harriett and her new assistant were expected home late on Saturday, after my scheduled bowling outing with Smith and Jones. I had no extracurricular sexual activities planned during the day for Friday, so I went into work.

The other thing that made these days-at-a-time off possible was my demotion. I was handling small-scale tasks, but I wasn’t in charge of any “big picture” stuff. So, with no management responsibilities, no coordinating the work of other employees, and no status reporting on my shoulders, I could schedule myself for a day off whenever I liked. No one had taken up my position or moved into my old office, although the reporting and such that I’d left behind seemed to be happening, behind the scenes. And without a manager in place, my former boss Dick Tashun didn’t seem to care when I showed up.

I got an assortment of greetings – head nods, waves, verbal “hello’s and an occasional wink – from co-workers and members of the shrinking secretarial pool. The repurposed swivel chair in my cubicle had seen better days and evidently overweight employees, the way it tilted to the right as I spun to my desk. My physical in-box was cluttered with pass-around copies of tech magazines whose content might as well have been a decade old. By the time the mags were produced and distributed, their content had reached the Internet, been consumed, evaluated, repudiated and forgotten. To save everyone else the trouble, I shucked all of those glossy covered rags into my wastebasket.

It was a shock and awe moment when Clyde Hunter’s secretary came down the aisle. Clyde was Dick Tashun’s boss, a senior vice president and a member of the executive corridor upstairs. I’d forgotten her name, but who could forget that body? I’d been with some beautiful women – models even – but she was something special. The only woman I’d seen recently that came anywhere close was the mystery woman I’d seen in the hallway outside at Underwuud Studios who’d been too friendly with Angie, the owner’s daughter and photographer. [AUTHOR: See story THROUGH THE LENS CH. 1]

There were always rumors about secret relationships in the office. Tashun dipping his wick in the secretarial pool, for one. Hell, I was the subject of my share. And Tashun had used the rumor he started – that Dora Muniz’s baby was mine – to get me demoted, based on his interpretation of the Personnel Policy. Tashun’s wife Agatha had promised to help me get my position back, after we shared a prone position on their bed. And, unbeknownst to her, I had their daughter Inez Victoria (Invey) the same morning, and in their bed no less.

Hunter’s secretary stopped at my desk, her crisp white blouse straining under the pressure of two very pointed breasts. There was no cleavage showing, but my palms sweated nonetheless. “Mr. Marcus. It’s very difficult to get hold of you.”

Vonna didn’t seem to have any trouble the previous day while I shot naughty photos of her in various states of undress. Her hands groped my cock frequently, before and during our sexual escapade. “I Ataşehir Escort take a day off now and then, to keep myself sane.”

“And you don’t carry a cell phone either.” She leaned over, hands on my desk, and pursed her lips, as if she was preparing to blow me a kiss.

“No one needs to get in touch immediately. That’s what voicemail and answering machines are for.”

“Mr. Hunter needed to speak with you, to arrange a meeting. But you’re here – today – so I can escort you.” She straightened up, shoulders back, tits at attention like torpedoes. “If you’re not doing anything more important.”

More important than getting my old job back? Why else would Hunter want to see me? Had Tashun’s wife come through after all? “Lead the way.”

We walked the corridor two abreast, although her two breasts were the distraction of every male and some of the females who passed us going the other way.

A elevator was available for our short ride up to the executive suite and Hunter’s office. I thought small talk was in order. “So, how is it, working for Mr. Hunter?”

She stood facing forward, her profile astonishing from her neck to her waist. It was a miracle she didn’t poke someone’s eye out. “He’s extremely dedicated to the success of his employees. Did you know that he takes one individual under his wing each year, for special treatment.” She smiled. It didn’t need to be spoken. She was his ‘special employee of the year.’

Under his wing? Into his bed, more likely. “And what happens after the year is over?”

“Well, most of his assistants go back to school, either for their bachelors or advanced degrees. In my case, I’ve taken a series of night classes and Mr. Hunter coached my personal development. I’ve applied for law school. Mr. Hunter says he’s creating the next generation of employees for the company.”

Either ‘night classes’ and “personal development’ were sexual euphemisms, or good old Hunter was a died in the wool good guy, helping his direct reports succeed in life and in business. Wow! My respect for the old guy went up 1000%.

We got out on our floor. I followed her to the left. We passed a few scattered private secretarial cubicles. In an otherwise vacant stretch of dark wood walls, she pulled a door open, grabbed my tie and pulled me after her. What the heck? We were in some kind of supplies room, with shelves of paper, binders, all of that officey stuff. Her eyes darted from side to side, as if she expected we were under surveillance. Quite possible, since paperclip theft is the number one cause of missed earnings at our firm. “I want to give you a heads-up, before you go in.”

Too bad it wasn’t giving me head, although the room was too narrow for her to kneel down. The width of the room put us very close together. Had we been naked, my cock would have been toying with her pubic mound. As it was, if we both inhaled, our chests would touch. “Mr. Tashun has been in Mr. Hunter’s office for almost an hour. Your name keeps coming up.”

“What are they saying?” And why did she think we needed this heart to heart, or chest-to-chest, chat?

“I had to be discreet, so I don’t know the details. But Mr. Hunter raised his voice a few times, and that means trouble. Maybe it was the phone call.”

“Trouble for who? Tashun? Me? What phone call?” I wasn’t getting a heads-up. I was getting a headache. “Why are you taking this risk?”

“Probably Tashun. Maybe Tashun.” She gave me an apologetic look. “Listen, I used to work in the pool downstairs with Dora. We’ve stayed in touch, after my promotion and even since she’s been on maternity leave. She told me how much you helped her, like Mr. Hunter has done for me. Believed in her when she didn’t believe in herself. Trusted her. Gave her self-confidence. I thought that maybe if you knew, you’d be better prepared for the meeting.”

She hadn’t told me squat, although being confined with her was good for a mental fantasy I’d be able to use later. “Thanks, uh-“

“Lorraine. Lorraine Ryder.”

I remembered the name. Hold on! This was Lorraine from the secretarial pool? The mousy flat-chested brunette who was afraid of her own shadow and dressed like someone’s grandmother? Nooo. Couldn’t be. “You’ve certainly gotten your game together. A lawyer, huh?”

“Yes. It’s always been a dream.” She glanced at her watch. “We’d better go. Mr. Hunter is waiting.”

One of us had to move first or we’d have front-to-front bodily contact, and then Lorraine would know she’d given me an erection. “After you.” I raised my arm, as if I was a gentleman.

So Lorraine moved – forward, leaning against me. Her pointy tits drilled my chest. Her hand went to my crotch. Shit, the gig was up, and so was my cock. Her fingers traced the length. “Dora also said you were the best lay she’d ever had. And I can see why.” She smiled, turned and exited the storage closet. I adjusted my prick in my pants and followed, although walking behind that swaying, perhaps surgically enhanced, ass did Bostancı Escort nothing to reduce the bulge.

Lorraine handed me a leather folio, which I held in front to conceal my condition. “Keep your mouth shut. Hunter likes to hear his own voice.” Loretta whispered just before I stepped into her boss’s office.

The room was just what I expected. A huge desk, two visitor chairs facing, and a sitting area in the back, with a sofa, a comfy chair and a coffee table filled with those same obsolete tech magazines. Hunter sat behind the huge mahogany desk, the fancy kind with curvy carvings along the top edges and sides. Tashun occupied one of two leather guest chairs. “Well, there he is. Good to see you again, Marcus. Have a seat. You know Dick, of course.”

Hunter and I had never met before, but one does not correct a senior vice president. “Good to see you too, sir. Again. Hi Dick.” I sat down and put the closed folio in my lap.

Hunter leaned back in his oversized executive chair. “Dick and I here have been chatting about the status of projects in his department. You up to speed?”

“No sir. I don’t have that kind of responsibility any more.” Shit. Keep your answers short, Lorraine had told me.

“Why, that’s right. You’re no longer a director. Dick, tell me again why Marcus here doesn’t have that position.”

Tashun pulled at his collar. This probably wasn’t the first time he’d explained my demotion to Hunter. “Mr. Marcus violated company policy on fraternization, impregnating a co-worker while on a business trip. That was sufficient cause for-“

Hunter interrupted. “Did she file a complaint?”

“Excuse me?” asked Tashun.

“I said, did the female in question – it must have been a female if she got pregnant – did she complain? To you, or anybody else? Officially or unofficially?”

Tashun glared at me. “Uh, no. She didn’t.”

“And to be sure of your accusation, you asked her to agree to a paternity test, to confirm that Marcus here is the father. You did ask, didn’t you?”

“Yes.” Tashun was trying to avoid Hunter’s stare.

“And what were the results?” Hunter tapped a pencil on the leather-framed blotter.

“She, uh, she refused the procedure. She said that she and her husband were trying for a baby, even using drugs to promote conception, and that as far as she was concerned, her husband was the father.”

“So let me get this straight.” Hunter glanced at me, and then returned his steely stare towards Tashun. “The female in question, Dora Muniz if I’m not mistaken, got pregnant, made no complaint against Marcus here, told you her husband is the father, and you demoted Marcus anyway. Do I have my facts straight?”

“Yes, almost. Ms. Muniz never denied having sex with Marcus.” Tashun gripped the arms of his chair, almost lifting himself out of it. “And there was-“

“No cause. There were no facts, just supposition.” Hunter turned to me. “You see, Marcus, I got an anonymous call. Female, if Lorraine is any judge. Suggested I look into Dick’s personnel decisions, the recent ones. Now, normally, I’d just blow off something like that. Some crank trying to make trouble. Maybe even a lady friend of yours. Thing is, projects in Dick here’s department are slipping. Blowing dates and budgets. That didn’t use to happen. Not when you were running things down there.”

“No, sir.” I was tempted to tell him that I hadn’t been running things as a director, merely in charge of a few specific projects. But why spoil his view that I made things work better?

“So, I checked with Personnel. Here’s their incident file.” He held up a manila folder. One sheet of paper fell out. “They never got the corroborating evidence that supported your demotion. Dick here told them, ‘It’s coming’ but it never showed up. It never will, will it, Dick?”

Tashun shook his head.

“Good, thanks for some belated honesty. Really, Dick, I don’t know sometimes. So, now I’ve got to clean up your mess. And I figure, why screw around with a good thing? Projects got done on time when you were managing them, and they aren’t now, so I think you ought to go back to your old position. What do you think about that?”

“I like that just fine.” I tried not to smile too broadly.

“And for your trouble, we’ll add in a small bump to your check, to make things right. Not your fault you took a temporary pay cut.”

It was only temporary because Hunter was reinstating me. “Thank you, sir.” I hesitated, but couldn’t keep my mouth shut. “And my annual bonus?”

Hunter frowned. Had I asked for too much? “Sorry, but those books are closed. Nothing left to allocate.”

Tashun snorted, and both of us saw a smirk grow on his face.

Hunter scratched his chin. “But good old Dick here, as a Division Manager, he gets quarterly bonuses. So, next quarter, if his group is doing good – and I expect it will – I’ll give you his bonus. How’s that?”

Tashun stood up, trying to stand up to his boss. “Clyde, that’s not fair.”

“Life’s Kadıköy Escort not fair, Dick. What was done – by you – to Marcus here wasn’t fair. I’m just making it fairer. Marcus, you can go. You probably need some time to move back into your office. I’ll have Lorraine send out a company email, announcing the organization change. And, I’ll have her put the bonus redirection in the tickler file, so I don’t forget. Congratulations, and remember, I’m counting on you.”

He stood and extended his hand, and I shook it with subdued vigor and a firm grip.

I avoided eye contact with Tashun, who’d plopped back into his chair. I walked out and winked at Lorraine. Maybe after she took some law classes, she’d be willing to give me some professional advice, like how to get into her panties.

I mulled my situation in the elevator ride down to worker-bee level. I was delighted that I’d gotten my old job back, with a bigger salary to boot. But that meant the end of my scattered vacation days. Tashun, and now Hunter, would be on my case, looking for results, results I couldn’t achieve if I was bopping off on a whim. How many projects had fallen into disrepair since my demotion? And how many of them would be assigned to me? A cold chill ran down my spine. It would be just like Tashun to dump all of the bad ones in my lap, even without the revenge he’d want from losing his next quarter’s bonus. Things were going to be even tenser than before. And what if Tashun’s wife Aggie wanted a stiff reward for getting me reinstated? I assumed the female caller was Aggie, or maybe she put daughter Invey up to the deed. Ironic that their call took money out of their family income.

I spent the rest of the day reviewing project plans and status reports. Whoever, with the initials JD, had been coordinating most of the projects had deferred everything to vendors. That’s a bad mistake. Their motivation is how much they sell, not how well things work when they walk out the door. You get hardware and software from them, but no accountability. And with mixed vendors, you get chaos.

My head was pretty fried by the time I got home. I decided that I’d treat myself to a pizza and another look at Nashta, the delivery girl from A Hot Piece. Maybe this time we could have a conversation before she ran away from me. On the phone, the owner was his same, friendly self, almost barking at me. I cleaned up and chose a nice polo shirt and slacks from my closet. Sure enough, the doorbell announced her arrival. I opened the door with a friendly smile, a smile that melted when a pimply boy greeted me. “Your delivery from A Hot Piece?”

“Oh yeah, sure.” I handed him the cash intended for Nashta. “Where’s the girl-“

“Nash? She’s got the night off. Tell me, why does everybody on this route ask me the same thing?” He must have meant it as a rhetorical question because he didn’t wait for an answer, shook his head and jogged back to his car, without even a ‘Thanks’ for the tip, one he didn’t deserve. So much for engaging that mysterious and exotic young lady in conversation on my doorstep.

I flipped the box open. The surface of the pizza reminded me of the pimply delivery boy’s face. I lost my appetite. The doorbell rang. What was it, didn’t I give the kid enough money? There should have been plenty. Instead, Clara stood at my door. “Did you forget our appointment?”

Shit! In exchange for Uncle Viktor’s photography lessons, I’d promised to fuck her visiting niece. Well, not in so many words. Clara would have said, ‘Provide my niece with an extension of her sexual education.’ Which in the past boiled down to the same thing: cock in cunt. The only issue was, how would the cajoling be performed? It wasn’t like these young ladies came to visit their Aunt Clara, expecting to get laid, probably just the opposite. “Nope. I’m all cleaned up, ready to meet her.”

I locked up the house. It was best to get my obligation to Clara cared for, because the next day was bowling and Harriett’s return. It would be difficult if not impossible to get naked with one of Clara’s relatives with Harriett around. Oh, and I couldn’t forget about her British assistant.

“We’ll need to take our time with this one.” Clara spoke almost in a whisper as we crossed the street to her house, formerly the Cocksworth’s. “She opted out of sex education at her school, despite her parent’s urging.”

“Can a kid do that? Refuse to take a class?”

“Evidently, they have a very liberal policy that gives students a lot of freedom.”

“But with freedom comes responsibility! How does she think she’ll survive out in the real world-“

“You’re preaching to the choir. That’s why you’re here, remember? To give her a better perspective on sex. She confided in me that she had a recent trauma, but didn’t spill the details. Perhaps you can get it out of her. And, if in the process, you have the opportunity to get it in-“

“Yes, yes, I have the freedom and responsibility to take advantage of the situation.”

“Well put.” Clara opened the front door, unlocked.

The first time I assisted Clara, with her niece Reid, I was manipulated into fucking her. It didn’t start out that way, but that’s how it climaxed. I expected Clara would act the same way, as the coach. I was just a prop, a tool.

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