Romantic Short Stories...love stories for interracial couples and singles

Romantic Short Stories

Love Stories

Our August selection is from Cheryl Renee, some of you may consider her style a tad too erotic to be considered "romantic", but we enjoy the way she tells a story.

TAKING CARE OF BUSINESS
by Cheryl Renee

As the assistant for Mr. Conrad Nash, deflecting calls from the Junior execs and reminding Mr. N. to attend meetings with the Senior Officers was part of my daily routine. A routine that would cease when Mr. N retired in two months. He was a kindly, no fuss grandfather type who after twenty years of working together allowed me full autonomy.

My loyalty was one hundred percent to Mr. Nash as I had to contend each year with with the small band of young "cubs" who were on the fast track to succeed the old toothless lion, and each was eager to be the one who'd take over his den. Their rude, brash behavior didn't affect me as strongly as an intense gaze from certain Mr. Lewis.

Mr. J. R. Lewis.

From day he joined the firm five years earlier, I wanted to ask him what was it about me that managed to draw his focused attention. He was never overt or salacious, but his stares would draw my nipples into hard, aching spikes which chafed against my bra for hours after an encounter with him.

I could handle the sexual juveniles with their frat talk of their sexual prowess, all shallow, callow boys. Mr. Lewis was neither a boy, callow or shallow. He was definately quiet, deep pool of sensual secrets, and I was no risk taker.

I could also sense he was a "let my body do the talking" type, and he probably liked being jabbed by bony knees and elbows in bed; turning his nose at a well cushioned ride. Oh well, it was his loss!

* * *

Today they'll announce Mr. N.'s successor with champagne and insincere farewells to a fine old gent. This makes it a double crepe hanging day, and puts my head on the chopping block because Senior V.Ps can pick their own staff.

As I wait at my desk for the meeting cum celebration to end, in walks Mr. Lewis directly to my desk, leaning over to look me in the eye with THAT look, and quietly ask, "Could you work for someone you didn't like?"

What kind of a question was that, and why should he care about my discomfort on the job, when the only person I felt eerie around was him and his piercing eyes?

"Mr. Lewis, I can truthfully say I can tolerate the other Junior Officers in small doses at far spaced intervals, but I don't actively dislike any of them."

Walking around the desk to where I sat, he nailed me to the spot with, "Would you work with me, even though you find me objectionable?"

Stunned that he's saying this, so I give him truth for truth. "I always felt I was the one you found objectionable in some way, I'd have no problem working with you."

I can see the strain ease from his face as a shy smile catches the corner of his lips.

"I'm glad to hear that JoAnn, because I've been named Bill Nash's successor, and you've just succeeded yourself, you work with me now."

* * *

We settled into a professional truce that was less strained than I anticipated since he was in every way a gentleman.

I never knew the true meaning of the word until the de-clawed cubs turned into a pack of hyenas; sniping about Mr. Lewis's bump up the corporate ladder, and my accompanying him on the ride.

The weekly breakfast for the upper echelon was in session when the Snarly Boys strolled in sniffing for trouble.

"Well, JoAnn, where's the Wunderkind, is he upstairs kissing old man Harper's ass, thanking him for MY job; oh I forget, that's what you did to get him to keep you on after that old fart Nash shuffled out of here?"

The chorus of guffaws, "You tell 'er, Pete" and the "Way to go, Petey" masked the entrance of the two security officers who stood silently while the four creeps proceeded to regale each other with graphic depictions of me avidly servicing Mr. Lewis in every position to keep my position.

I was beyond mortified to have witnesses to this degrading scene when a cold voice to my left stated, "That will be enough. . . more than enough!"

Mr. Lewis was in a towering rage, but he was so in control that only his words gave away his anger.

"Timmons, the only reason you have any job in this company is due to Mr. Harper's respect for your father, his ex partner. For that alone you owe him your loyalty and respect. Speaking of respect, you will tender individual apologies to Miss Wells for your inappropriate behavior and language, that will be your last official acts as employees of this corporation. Not only do these gentlemen make excellent witnesses for the sexual harassment of Miss Wells, but they will escort you off the premises."

Peter Timmons wasn't going down that easy, "You can't fire me like this, my dad founded this place with Harper; you don't have the juice to can me!"

Showing no signs of wavering, Mr. L. delivered the death blow mercilessly. "As a Senior officer I can discharge any employee who violates the company's no-tolerance policy on sexual harassment. Gentlemen you have been discharged."

As the brouhaha was carried out of the office, I was finally able to breathe with the dissipation of rancor and Mr. Lewis still standing in front of his door.

He walked towards me, unsmiling. "I wanted to bash in that little punk's face, because I've imagined you and I in every one of those positions. When I saw you that first day with Bill Nash, and I was so envious of him that I would have busted him in the snout as well. JoAnn I have not thought of another woman since day one when you bumped into me with the most luscious body placed on this planet. I'm telling you this, not to scare you, but to show you a man who respects you enough to keep his hands to himself."

With that having been said, he strode out of the office still in control. Respect, was that all I had to expect from that princely, wavy-haired, man of a man was respect; who did he think I was, Aretha Franklin?

* * *

All right I'll admit it, I've got the hots for my boss, Mr. Lewis. Every day I was tested at work: don't lean too close to inhale his heavenly aftershave, if we're in an elevator, don't brush against his "good intentions." All day and in every way that is physically possible I wanted that man.

In a planetarium straddling him, and as the cannons from Tchaikovsky's"1812" roar to Napoleon's defeat you're roaring in triumph as I ensheath your mighty Sabre deep within my Hot Scabbard repeatedly apace with the music; and you see stars that aren't even discovered!

Facing each other while we're riding a horse with a nice rolling gait. Oh, you should be named "stud", because you've "nailed" me quite efficiently in the saddle, and you have plenty of "giddy-up" left in you. Or better yet, I'm face down on a blanket covered bale of hay with two cocoa butt cheeks poised for riding in tight "hindquarters". You grasp me by the hips and Whoa, Nellie, we're riding off into the sunset!

Or what about that conference in Jamaica, where we lie in a hammock, and as the palms shade us from the afternoon sun, I delight in the discovery that cream of coconut is not the only natural "drink" a girl can suck on! "Ummm, love that taste."

"Miss Wells? Miss Wells!! Did you hear me, Joe Harper's in the hospital with a stroke. The board in its wisdom is sending me in his place. A week in Las Vegas, are you up for it? If you are, we will leave at ten tonight. A car will pick you up at eight. Except for the cocktail party and the Awards dinner, pack for a hot, casual trip."

Dear God! The man must be a seer!

* * *

Leaving chilly Autumn weather behind for the dry heat of Vegas was in itself a treat in itself, being privy to all the perks, like a limo ride straight to the tarmac and our Gulfstream IV, a safe and reliable corporate plane was like icing on a cake. I would soon realize this was only the beginning of my high points in traveling with "Luscious" Lewis.

At some point in mid-air he remembered that he wasn't traveling alone and put away his omnipresent laptop and made chitchat to try and snap the tension permeating the cabin. It might have worked for him, but not for me, I still wanted to wrinkle sheets with his long lean body wrapped around mine.

Flying into this Adult's Playground, you become one with the lights, sounds and flow of money, here the buck is King and we all are its slaves in one form.

A limo awaits at the arrival gate and we are motoring past wedding chapels, cheap tee shirts and souvenirs sit cheek and jowl with dazzling monuments to fantasy and greed.

The corporate suite has more square feet than my parents' entire house and I won't begin rhapsodizing about the bathtubs! I pull in my girlish enthusiasm when Mr. J for "Juicy" Lewis states he'll be in meetings all day, so my day is my own to do as I please, only I'm not at all pleased! I had envisioned working at his side for a fair portion of the day, and now Mr. "R" for Remote Lewis will be farther from me than he is back on the job.

As the sun set outside the mammoth suite window, I mentally cross Mr. L for "Lost" Lewis from my "to do" list. As scintillating as I find him, he is not interested in me, and I beg no man into my bed!

Still smoldering somewhat from sexual frustration, I fail to notice a lean, long legged figure approaching me in the glass!

Bending slightly, my aloof boss instantly spanned the gaps that were separating us by stating, "I've wanted to be alone with you many times JoAnn, but never catching two or three rushed hours between meetings and phone calls or at the expense of your reputation, and I wanted our first time to be glorious, neither tawdry nor a subject for the water cooler. The Vincennes Group has agreed to our buyout, and my business is done. On the other hand, you and I have a merger to put to bed during the next six days."

This civilized, self-contained businessman spun me around and proceeded to mate his tongue with mine, moaning with deep satisfaction as our hips strained together in a mock mating dance. The man's hands worked my heart shaped bottom like potter's clay, squeezing, cupping and rubbing my cheeks with strong, firm fingers that knew their way on a woman's rear.

Running his mouth along my neck, he grappled with my shirtwaist. I laughed at his frustrated, schoolboy fumbling and assisted in my disrobing.

With a satisfied grunt, he strip off a Bond Street suit, tossing thousands of dollars in hand stitched fabric about the room. I discarded my sandals and presented my sinuous, curvaceous frame for his perusal. The glint in his eyes accompanied by the rise of his mast signals he liked what he saw!

Tossing bed linen from the mattress, we land in the middle of mattress where you dive into the lush petalled cove that holds the center of my woman's pleasure. For a man of very few words, your tongue is quite adept at coaxing my "rosebud" to bloom with the rapid tattooing of its flying tip. You playfully nip and nuzzle my inner thighs and my body writhes with each sensory stimuli. As you plumb the treasures of my cloistered garden, I am undulating feverishly into seismic jolts of lightning and fire!

I had to cling to J.R. to ride out the subsiding tremors! Who knew that serious mouth had such a playful tongue?

As the earth's axis regains its proper tilt; you seize the opportunity to settle your body along the length of mine, and oh sweet tender mercies, the man is packing serious "heat" and I realize he is going to ride me high, hot with a hell of a lot of loving!!

My ankles rest against his ears as he slowly penetrates my pulsating depths in a slow, deep dive. Our mouths mimic the accelerating motion of our united bodies and kissing has been a duel, a duet, a dance of silent song that reverberates throughout my body the precise moment you fill me to the hilt, and our eyes lock onto each other as a new dimension of pleasure and sensation is discovered in the space of you and I.

This is power, heat, rhythm, thrust, sweat, need and desire joined in a physical act as old as nature yet newly found in each others arms! You move with all the nuances of a variable speed drill and I'm matching your every movement with throbbing, contractions that play havoc with your celebrated control until we are bucking against each other like two wild teenagers supercharged with a double dose of hormones. Arching my neck and back, I give my being to the rush of pure light and float on clouds of wonder, while your release is of sound, discharged energy and heat.

Lying in each others arms dazzled and drained by the coupling for the ages, I have a question nibbling at the back of my mind.

Plying your mouth to alternate nipples, I ask you for the answer to the mystery that has plagued me for months, "What does J.R. stand for?"

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Last revised on 03-13-03