Rebecca Austin

I sat in the creative meeting with my boss, Roger, his assistant, Carrie, and our new creative director, Rebecca Austin. We were crowded at one end of the conference table, Roger seated at the head, Carrie and Rebecca across from me. Roger and Rebecca were tossing ideas back and forth. I was not paying much attention, switching between Carrie's tits and Rebecca's tits. I know it sounds like I wasn't into the job, but the truth is, I wrote the ad copy and I knew it was going to be a hit with the client and another obscene amount of money would be directly deposited in my bonus account.

Rebecca's voice cut through my tit-watching reverie. "Colin, what do you think if we changed the wording from 'will do' to 'can do'?"

I looked from Carrie's tits to the ad layout on the easel. From there, I stared into Rebecca's green eyes. "I don't think any of the wording should be changed. Look, 'can do' connotes ability, whereas, 'will do' connotes, ability, desire, and determination. We're working on a customer service campaign here, let's not lose the custserv aspect of it. Know what I mean?"

Rebecca nodded, her blonde hair partially obscuring one of her beautiful eyes. Roger said, "Colin, we're not forgetting you wrote the ad. And, I think you're probably right about the semantics of the ad. But, we're a team here and we're looking at all angles."

I turned the full "you're an idiot" gaze on Roger. "Look, Rog, I'm all about being a team player. But, I've homered my last five campaigns. That's five Fortune 500 clients I've delivered for this company. Now, I understand Rebecca is creative director and you're the VP of production, but this is what I do."

Carrie smirked a little. She thinks Roger is an idiot and has told me many times over drinks. Truth is, Carrie could do Roger's job better than he can.

Roger was about to speak when Rebecca cut him off. "Colin's right. That's all there is to it. We've fine tuned the campaign as much as we can."

Carrie added her opinion, "Yeah, Roger, too many cooks and all that. Let's just look at the creative spots we have." She smiled subtly at me and opened her organizer. "We have the email both text and html." Pointed to the easel. "Here's the tv spot." She clicked play on the VCR and the ad ran for thirty seconds. While the ad ran, I tuned back to the tit watching.

When the ad was done, Roger said, "That's splendid." He actually said "splendid". "We're going to homer again." He gathered up his papers and said, "Since the ad is done, why don't you three head on home and take the rest of the day off. I'll see you in here bright and early Monday morning for our pitch to the client. Get some rest so you're sharp Monday." With that, he left.

"I can't believe he gave us the rest of the day off." Carrie said while sipping her margarita. We were at Rusty's, a little bar in the basement of our office building. She was halfway through her first margarita, I was on my second scotch rocks. A little note about our relationship: first and foremost, we're friends. We have been since I was hired by Bragg Media four years ago. She helped me through the breakup with Madison last year and I helped her get through her divorce from Lawyer Bob about the same time. While we're both pretty sure we'd be good together, we remain friends instead. That isn't to say we haven't done it a few times, but, not very often, and when we did/do, it didn't/doesn't change our relationship that much.

"Roger's not a bad guy. He's just an idiot." I replied.

She smiled and took a drag off her cigarette. "When do you think the campaign is going to go live?"

"That depends on our idiot media planner people. I think it should go live asap, but, that's not my domain."

"So does Roger. He's been pushing old man Bragg to put this on top."

"Yeah, so he says. I don't know how effective it's going to be with the other campaigns we already have in place for the other clients who have already paid, but who knows."

Carrie smiled at me. When she did, her cheeks dimpled and her brown eyes sparkled. Her hair was brown and cut short in sort of a pageboy cut. She was wearing a blue cardigan over a white turtleneck. It made her tits stand out. Hmm. "What are you doing for Christmas?"

"I'm going to my parents house, I think."

"Ugh, that drive sucks."

"Yeah, that's for sure. What about you, what are you doing?"

"I'm picking up the boys Christmas morning and heading out to Athens to see the whole big family."

"How are you doing?"

She smirked a little and said, "Well, I hated the holidays when I was married and now, my first year alone, they're miserable. But, I've got the boys and they take up a significant amount of time. I don't know, I'm still young, so there's still time."

"Ain't that the truth. Don't forget you're a knockout, you make a ton of money, and you have great friends."

She smiled again and said, "Yes, I'm a knockout, I do make good money, but my friends leave a lot to be desired. Espescially since they haven't taken me out for a while."

I nodded and said, "Point taken."

She looked at her watch and said, "Shit, I have to pick up Robbie from soccer practice. I'll see you Monday." She kissed me on the cheek and left me with the bill.

I sat nursing my scotch and smoking a cigarette. I was down under a pack a day, probably since the office went non-smoking six months ago. I still snuck a few in my office when I had the time, but nothing like the one right after the other routine I'd been on for three years. I was about to go home when Rebecca Austin walked in. She saw me and waved. I waved back and she walked over to my table.

"Hi, do you mind if I join you?"

"No, I'm just enjoying a cocktail. Can I get you one?"

"Sure, Kettle One martini up, dirty, and dry." I motioned to our waiter and ordered her drink.

"What brings you down to Rusty's?"

"Mark said you'd be down here."

Mark was one of the copy writers on my staff. "What is Mark still doing at the office?"

"He wasn't. I caught him in the elevator on the way down."

"So, you're out looking for me?"

She blushed a little and said, "Well, not exactly. I think we need to get some stuff in order if we're going to work together effectively."

Uh-oh, I didn't like where this was going. I'm one of those does-not-play-well-with-others types. I don't like to hear my shit stinks because nine times out of ten it doesn't. "What do we need to get in order?" I asked.

The waiter brought her drink and another bowl of peanuts. He nodded at me drink and I briefly considered another one before shaking him off – for a while.

She took a sip of her martini and nodded approvingly, "Most people don't know what dry means. This is a good drink."

"That's why I'm here. Now, where were we? Oh, yeah, you were going to tell me my job."

She looked a little shocked when I said that. "No, Colin, I wasn't going to tell you your job. I think you have a great grasp of your department and I think I could learn some from you."

I blushed and said, "Sorry, I'm used to hearing all sorts of suggestions from management. Most of them think ad is spelled with two d's."

"It's okay, I'm used to you artsy types" she said with a sly smile.

I smirked at that. "You win."

She took a cigarette out of my pack and lit it with my lighter, "You don't mind, do you?" She flashed those deep green eyes and that body inside her perfectly tailored navy suit. There wasn't much I could say other than, "No."

"Good. I usually only smoke when I'm drinking, but, lately that's been often."

"Yeah, new in town is a bitch. Where are you from?" I thought I knew the answer, but I asked anyway.

"Originally Riverside, California, up north of San Diego and east of LA. But, I've lived in San Diego since I graduated from college. My parents moved to Florida a couple of years ago and my sister lives in Nashville. I decided to take something closer to them."

"Where did you go to school?"

She took a sip of her martini and said, "Undergrad was at USC and graduate school was Stanford."

"Wow, MBA?"

"Yeah."

"I'm impressed. Most of the creative directors can't read or write and here, you're a Stanford grad." I did some math and guessed her age at about thirty. That meant if she graduated like any other normal college kid, she'd been on the job for about six years.

"What about you? Where did you go?"

"Well, I got my degree in English at Auburn. I was on the five-football season program, graduated in December. I was planning on writing the perfect novel when I moved to New York. The novel was a good excuse to bartend with a degree for two years. One day, I had an epiphany and decided to come home and get a real job."

"Are you still working on the Great American Novel?"

"Of course. But, I also gained some valuable experience in the city writing ad copy and editing ad copy."

Rebecca took another cigarette out of my pack, lit it with my lighter, and exhaled elegantly. She said, "What is your novel about?"

"It's classic detective Film Noir kind of stuff. You know, Chandler, Hammett."

She smiled. It was a kind, soft smile. She had faint laugh lines around her eyes. It made her more attractive. "I have to admit, I've never read much of that stuff. I've always been more into horror. Stephen King, Dean Koontz."

I nodded, "Yeah, I've read all their stuff, too. Basically, I read anything that won't move and then some things that do."

The waiter came by and motioned at our drinks. I shook my head. He went away. "So, why aren't you married?" She asked me.

I blushed a little. "I haven't found the one to marry yet. I've had a couple of Titanic-sized disasters, but nothing permanent yet. What about you?"

"Same here. The last guy I dated before I moved here was a complete mama's boy. He lived four houses down from her. She was always coming over to his place, when I was there. It got to the point where I had to leave early in the morning when I spent the night with him."

"That had to be a pain in the ass. I've always dated head cases that hate their families so, I've never had any outside familial influence on my relationships." Our eyes locked across the table. Zing. "Look, I don't want to be too forward but, I'm starting to get drunk. If I don't eat something soon, I'll be a drooling idiot before too long. Would you like to come to my place for dinner?"

She blushed faintly, "I don't know, can you cook?"

"Like you wouldn't believe."

"What do you have planned for dinner tonight?"

"Pizza from this awesome little pizza joint around the corner from my place."

"That sounds good. Do you have booze?"

"Does a bear shit in the woods?" I replied with a wry grin.

She smiled. "I take Marta in, so do you mind if I ride with you?"

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

"Okay, let me use the girl's room."

Rebecca sat on the floor eating her artichoke-heart, tofu, and mushroom pizza on my coffee table. To me it looked like someone barfed on it, but I kept that to myself. I was eating a meatball, pepperoni, and bacon calzone, and basically trying to induce a heart attack as soon as possible. She had taken off her shoes and suit jacket and leaned against the couch next to me. On the CD player was my new Pete Yorn CD. "I love this CD." She said.

"Yeah, me, too. I was depressed to learn the music I listen to is now called 'Adult Alternative.' Makes me think I'm getting old."

"Yeah, no kidding. I'm interviewing assistants now and the one I interviewed today was born in '85."

"Oh, Lord, I was a sophomore in high school then."

"Yeah, I know, I was a freshman."

"Really? Rebecca, you're older than I thought."

She smirked and said, "Thanks, I think."

I tried to recover, "I mean, I did the math and figured you were about twenty-eight."

"I'm almost thirty. I graduated from high school a year early."

I nodded my head and took a swig of my beer, a great local brew, Red Clay Lager. "That must have made college a little more entertaining than necessary."

"Yeah, I was the little geek who skipped second grade."

"You were one of the chicks I picked on when I was in high school."

She laughed and said, "Let me guess, a guy your size, you're about what, 6'2", two hundred pounds?"

"Yeah, about that."

"So, you were a jock."

"What makes you say that?"

"I don't know, maybe one of the pictures of you in uniform."

"Yeah, I was a jock."

"So, you picked on the smart, geeky girl."

"Duh, that's what we did."

"Yeah, and you had a legion of admirers who did your homework?" She said with a laugh.

"No, I made better grades than all my admirers so I did my own homework."

She took a bite of her vomit pizza and spilled a large glob of red sauce on her blouse. "Shit", she said, pulling her blouse away from her chest, giving me an excellent view of her right tit.

I recovered nicely, "Hang on, I'll get you a towel with some soda water. The bathroom is down the hall. I'll get you a t-shirt."

"Thanks," she said, moving toward the bathroom. I got her the towel and a small bottle of soda water and handed them to her through the cracked bathroom door. I studiously didn't look at her in the mirror.

My eyes hovered over a tank top. Nah. I got her my gray Auburn Football shirt and knocked on the bathroom door. She opened it and avoided eye contact. I handed her my shirt and she mumbled thanks.

I went back to the couch and sat down to finish my calzone and beer. She came out of the bathroom. I got her another beer. She sat down on the couch next to me. "Thanks, I'm such a klutz."

"So, that's nothing. It should come out. If you want to, you can wash it. I've got some whites to go with it."

"No, it's dry clean only." She said. "You know, you're a really nice guy. I'm a little drunk but, you're much nicer than I imagined."

I smiled a little, "Thanks, I think."

She blushed a little and nodded her head, "Can I have a cigarette?"

I handed her one and lit it. "What I mean is, all I've heard from your staff is what a slave driver you are. And, management says you're something of a prima donna."

I smiled at that. "Both are right."

"Yeah, I've noticed. But, I've also noticed you're smarter than everyone realizes, maybe even you, and you work your ass off. I respect that."

"Thanks. You seem to know your way around an ad board, too."

"I do. I've worked very hard to get where I am now. I know I'm attractive and a lot of people assume I use my looks to get what I want, but that's not the case. I'm talented, too."

"Who are you trying to convince, you or me?"

She nodded slightly, as if to herself. "Probably both of us."

"I-"

"Please, let me finish. I'm on a roll here." She turned to face me and put her hand on mine. There was intensity in her brilliant green eyes.

"Okay." I smiled.

"Anyway, to be honest with you, I didn't come down to pick your brain or anything work related."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I came down to Rusty's because I wanted to..." Her words trailed off and she kissed me. She tasted minty, like the mouthwash in my bathroom. At first it was soft opened mouthed kissing, no tongue. However, it quickly added some tongue and body English. I could feel her breasts pressing against my chest and her nipples digging in. Apparently, she'd removed her bra while in the bathroom. I laid back and pulled her down on top of me. She held my hands over my head and kissed my neck and nibbled on my ear. I could feel my cock straining against my boxers in wicked anticipation. She pulled my sweater and shirt off in one fell swoop and kissed my collarbone. Her hand went to my zipper. She pulled my cock out and started to stroke it. Rebecca Austin, my boss, took my cock in her mouth and started sucking it like she was going to starve to death.

"Grrrr", I kind of said. She smiled with my dick in her mouth and raked me a little. "Ummmmm", was basically all I could get out when she started licking the head. Her hands were busy getting my pants off. I lifted my hips up and she deep throated me while taking the rest of my clothes off. The muscles in the back of her throat were busy working my dick. My grip on the arm of the couch threatened to rip it off. It was all I could do not to push her head all the way down. I felt a brief interruption in the best blow job in recorded history. I looked down and she was naked. I was too engrossed in the ridiculous head job to get much of a look; it's hard to see through my eyelids. I could feel the zinging beginning in the ends of my hair and my toenails, the boiling that ran through every muscle, nerve, and blood vessel.

"Ggghhhhhhhgggghhhhhh", I muttered as I shot the largest load in history right down the throat of Rebecca Austin, my boss, who managed to swallow every single drop.

"Jesus Christ, did you learn that at Stanford?"

"Yeah, pretty much." She said with a giggle.

"You're in big trouble now." I picked her up and she giggled as I carried her into the bedroom. I set her down on the bed on her stomach and started kissing the back of her neck. My hands lightly traced down her sides and she shuddered softly. I continued kissing her neck as my right hand found her honey pot while my left hand rolled one of her eraser-like nipples between my thumb and forefinger. She squealed a little. I stuck a finger in her box and diddled her clit with my pinky. She moaned a lot, a very satisfying sound. She was tight and soaking wet. After about my fifth finger pump, she shuddered and bit into the pillow letting out a low pitched throaty moan and covered my hand with her juices.

I rolled her over and went to work on her perfect boobs. They were large on her small frame. She was maybe one hundred five pounds, five-two, probably a C-cup, and they sat proudly sticking straight out on her chest above her ribs. I cupped each boob and thumbed her nips while kissing her navel. She squirmed a lot and I continued moving south. I got to her perfectly shaved beaver and went right to her hole. I stuck my tongue in her hole and she moaned again. She was hurricane wet and her cooter tightened around my tongue. I fucked her with my tongue for a few minutes until I decided to go in for the kill.

I licked her clit, eliciting another squeal. It was time. I gave her the lick/suck combination on her clit and stuck a finger in her coochie. She started to fuck my face, and I kept sucking harder. She said, "Oh, shit, I'm about to come."

I feathered my tongue on her clit and she bucked three times and started to convulse. She coated my face with her juice and screamed my name. Booyah.

I lay down next to her. Between pants she said, "Did you learn that at Auburn?"

"No, I learned that from some geeky girl in high school."

She laughed and said, "It's time to finish the deed."

I rolled over on top of her and placed the head at the entrance to her chunnel. I slipped the head in and a little bit of the shaft and she purred. "Give me that big dick."

"Okay", I said, and slammed it all the way to the bottom.

"Unnggh, that's it," I started stroking slowly, taking the head all the way to the entrance and back to the bottom. She was ultra-tight. I kept a slow pace, having just shot a huge nut, I was gonna fuck her for a while.

She wrapped her beautiful legs around my back and pulled me deeper with her ankles. Her eyes were closed and her long black hair cascaded around the pillow creating an erotic imagery that was driving me crazy. She pulled me down and kissed me. I sped up the pace a little and the kissing stopped. She thrashed her head back and forth and dug her nails into my back, a delicious pain if ever there was one. She pulled me all the way in with her legs as she met my thrust and held me there. Her eyes opened wide and she started chanting my name slowly. I held my dick at the bottom against her cervix as she came again, loudly, spewing her love juice all over my dick.