Sexy Times with Nnenna Marcia: Cronies, Crones, Contenders.

When I opened my eyes, fifteen minutes had passed. I was still not sated. I groped for the rubber bullet and found it wedged between my leg and the cylindrical support pillow which had freed itself of the burden of my neck and lain alongside me as a lover. Clicking the button with my thumb, I spread my legs directing the vibrations against my clit. The waves of pleasure spread from the pinpoint between my legs, building and crashing against the muscles of my stomach. I reached for the bedside drawer and pulled out the glass phallus, holding it in my hand to warm it.

“Ooh,” my slippery walls clenched around it as I plunged it deep into myself and started moving against it, thrusting, loving how its firmness elicited a familiar response. I ditched the rubber, concentrating on kneading my flesh with my hand, moving the glass shaft to the front of wall of my canal. “Mmm…mmm…mmm….” My muscles fought to close against it as my orgasm built. The pads of my fingers puckered from absorbing too much moisture too quickly. My legs went rigid and I gritted my teeth against the sounds ripping through my throat. As I relaxed, my stomach started to grumble.

“Not yet. Not yet. Just a little more,” I rubbed my stomach. The fine hairs on my skin rose as if in protest. Kicking my way out of bed, I grabbed another of my toys and headed to the bathroom, feeling along the cabinet for the remote control. The shower started up at the push of a button. Another push and the LED lights around the head came on, bathing the room in a green glow. I waited until the cubicle steamed up before stepping in.

“Here we go,” the tip of my tongue stuck out as I attached the suction cup the shower stall. The water beat drummed on my back and I bent over, reached between my legs to pull any stray hairs out of the way and impaled myself. I touched my toes and picked up the pace, slamming my buttocks against the cubicle with each thrust. I squeezed my eyes shut imagining an audience behind me, seeing how I must look to them; pink and brown and open, splayed flat against the wet glass. I bounced on my toes, moving only my waist, faster, faster. I straightened up to squirt some shower gel into my hands, lathering my breasts, then I went back to bouncing on my toes, bending over to touch them, drawing out my nipples, working the lather to a rich, creamy foam. I nearly fell over with the force of my next climax. The blood rushed to my head, threatening to make me pass out.

***

“You know, you have such lovely, glowing skin,” said Sarah-Jane, the next day as we met in the corridors. “What’s your secret?”

“Oh, ha ha! Thank you,” I said. “I was just coming to your office actually. Here’s all my research. If there’s anything you need…”

“Come in. We’re not going to conduct our business in the hallway like savages.” Sarah-Jane’s eyes twinkled. “Sit down for chrissakes. This is your idea. Talk me through it.” Sarah-Jane came round her desk to close the door I left open.

“I’m not sure there’s anything else I need to explain. I’ve broken it down into categories and sub-categorised it further. It’s all there.”

“Fine,” said Sarah-Jane, waving. “Stay for moral support.”

“I doubt you need that. I read your file,” I said, sitting down on the spot Sarah-Jane indicated, beside her on the sofa.

“Not many women at the top here. I need all the support I can get,” she said, slipping on her glasses and flicking through the file.

“Not many women at your last job either. I seem to recall you being one of two women and the only one under 40.”

Sarah-Jane looked up and smiled. She took off her glasses, folded them and placed them on the coffee table in front of us. “You do remember correctly, not that I am surprised. I heard you were meticulous. I have researched you too. You’ve got a BA Hons in Tourism Management from the University of Surrey, a 2:1 in fact. I looked through the course list too. Impressive stuff.”

“Why do I feel a question in there somewhere?”

Sarah-Jane walked to her desk and sat down. “See? That’s what I’m talking about. But it does make me wonder though. Why are you not trying to work on this project yourself?”

“I think I need experience first. I’ve only been three years out of University after all.”

“Yes but you got a job almost immediately, even though there weren’t any going – still aren’t. Surely that should tell you all you need to know about your abilities.”

“I know my abilities, Sarah-Jane. I also know what I need to do to get the experience I need.” I shook my head. “Sorry.”

“I have offended you.”

“No…” I stood. “I really must get back to work though.”

“I have offended you. And that is good.” Sarah-Jane approached, hair swinging. “If you’re angry then there’s hope for you yet. One more question: when they asked you what you saw yourself doing in five years – during your interview with the company? What did you say?”

I paused, staring upwards. “I said that I wanted to be project manager, on location, as you do. Somewhere relatively untouched; running the type of sustainable tourism that doesn’t make us enemies of all the locals.”

“There are always people who will hate what you stand for no matter how hard you try. You’d be wise to remember that.” She cleared her throat. “And has that dream changed?”

“No. Not really.”

“I suppose administration might not be the best path to realising that dream.”

“I suppose not…I’m sorry, may I ask what is going on?” I looked around for signs that she had her office installed with cameras like all the other managers seemed to love doing.  Sarah-Jane, picked up her phone and dialled.

“Good,” she said, putting down the receiver.

“Good?” I asked when she went back to the papers on her desk.

“Yes, our interview is over.”

“Interview?” I touched my hair. Sarah-Jane followed the movement, eyes creasing at the corners. “I wasn’t aware I was being interviewed. I think I should have been told. Paragraph 41, sub-section 8 of the company law…”

“Oh, quit it for heaven’s sake,” Sarah-Jane put her legs up on the desk. “When I signed on the dotted line, they told me I could have whatever I want. Build my team, total freedom…you drew up the contract. I don’t need to tell you what’s in it.”

“And you want me? To be…your PA?” My pulse jumped about in the base of my throat as I did my sums quickly. “Nigel said you could have me?”

“You look like a dog that’s just been kicked my its owner. No; you daft mare. I want you to be my co-ordinator. It means working in the field of course, hands-on experience, just like you want. It also means a longer hours and maybe …” she glanced down at my feet. “Certainly no high-heels. That is, if you want the job of course?”

“Of course!” Sarah-Jane nodded, smiling. “But why me?” I asked eventually.

“Why not?” asked Sarah-Jane, looking at her watch. I walked to the door reading her cues. “One more thing,” she said. I smiled and turned around. “We leave next week. Problem?”

“Errrr…no.”

“I like to work fast before the men realise just how much power they have let me have.” She winked, doing air quotes around the word ‘Let’. “And thanks to you, we’re not actually putting up any new structures, just buying out and working on existing ones. If this doesn’t get you noticed, I don’t know what will.” She picked up the receiver again.

I wanted to fling my arms around Sarah-Jane. I clenched my fists instead. My cheeks hurt from smiling. “I have just request though.” She looked up. “I would like my assistants with me.”

“Sure, sure,” she waved.

“Thank you,” I said before the line connected. The last I saw were her blue eyes twinkling at me as I shut the door.

Nigel’s door was open when I walked back into the office. “Abby?” he called. I walked in closing the door behind me. The Marys were there, champagne flutes in hand. “I hear congratulations are in order.”

“Stop, sir. You arranged it all.”

“I did no such thing. Although now, I must say, I am rather regretting agreeing to that particular clause in her contract. That Sarah-Jane is shrewd. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s had her eye on you for a while.”

“I doubt that,” I said, accepting a flute of champagne from him.

“I don’t,” said Nigel. “She didn’t get to where she is by sheer luck.” He clapped Plump Mary on the shoulder. She jumped a mile. Nigel raised an eyebrow, moving away from her side. Tall Mary patted her arm. “Right, a toast.” Nigel raised his flute. “Cheers,” he said downing his drink. The Marys looked startled but they downed theirs. I shook my head. Nigel looked at us, eyes wide open. “I am an Englishman. We don’t do feelings. OK, that’s over. Back to work.” Plump Mary scuttled away first. I picked up the flutes and the almost-full bottle thinking of the guys in accounting. It was good champagne.

“Abby,” said Nigel. I turned. He patted my upper arms.

“Yes, sir.” I said.

“I would have been quite disappointed if you didn’t take the job. But, I would have been quite pleased at the same time,” he said. “Disappointingly pleased.” He tugged on the knot of his tie and nodded.

“Yes, sir. I understand.”

“Jolly good.” He wiped his brow. “I’m no good at these things.”

“I know, sir. Which is why you’re sending me off to Hatton Garden on the company’s account.”

“Not flowers then?” he asked giving what passed for a smile in Nigel-world.

“Not flowers.”

“I am generous.”

“Indeed, sir.”

“You know you can take more than a week to sort out your replacement. Say, if you don’t find anybody suitable. Don’t tell Sarah-Jane I said that.” He shuddered.

“I understand,” I said, thinking of Doreen, the brunette on the fourth floor. “I will send out the memo and start interviews by the end of the week. I’ll probably do Saturday as well.”

“Jolly good,” said Nigel again.

“Jolly good, sir.” I shut the door.

“So, I finally get what I am due,” said Alicia, slinking up to me from where she was waiting on my sofa. “It’s like Christmas has come early.”

“Not for you it hasn’t,” I said setting down the flutes. “I see you found the sofas this time.” I peeled a piece of foil from around the neck of the bottle and covered the top.

“Hey, I get to have a fair chance like everyone else. You cannot discriminate against me because we’ve had our problems in the past.”

“That was this week. And I didn’t have a problem; you just needed to make an appointment.”

Alicia tucked her hair behind her ears, nearly yanking off her earrings in the process. “I’ve been here longer than anyone qualified for the job. Com’on, don’t be petty. You know I’m the best person for this job.”

“So you shouldn’t be afraid of a little competition, should you, Alicia? Listen, I’ll even give you a special slot. Ask my crones to put you down for Saturday at 9am, would you?”