Deborah

Franco started his first day at Educational Resources with the typical round of introductions mumbled through mouths of bagels and donuts moistened with hot coffee. The C.E.O. led him to the offices of every vice president and manager located on the floor. He was impressed with their politeness and professionalism, though a bit disappointed he wasn't introduced to any third tier personnel. It was too obvious to be an oversight. He filed a mental note to correct this rather antiquated attitude when he completed his assessment of the company he had just acquired. Of course his "boss" had no idea that Franco had recently purchased E.R. or that Franco made it a part of his take over process to secretly observe the company from within prior to making it known that he was the new owner. Sneaky? Yes. But a distressed company had reasons for being in trouble...and what better way to find out than from within the organization itself.

He was finally shown to his new office and left alone to settle himself into his new surroundings. The office was plush, perhaps a little too plush for a struggling company. He let this one slide, reflecting on the fact that at one time money was flowing like water and E.R. was at the top of the textbook publishing companies. Then again, he thought...a little belt tightening never hurt anyone.

"Mr. Pauli," a voice called out. He turned and smiled. At last, a real person with an honest smile greeted him. "I'm Deborah Carpenter, your able bodied assistant." She grinned and put out her hand. "Welcome to E. R." He took her hand and shook it firmly returning her grin with one of his own. Sunshine on a cloudy day, he thought.

"Please call me Franco...and I am glad to meet you. You have one hell of a resume. Made me wonder why they didn't give you the job instead of me." She laughed softly. If he had hit a nerve, she certainly didn't let it show. He took a quick and discreet scan of the charming and beautiful woman that still held his hand. Able bodied, indeed she was. Black, beautiful, professional, great dresser and a smile that lit up the room quickly started a list of positive qualities that could only get longer. However, the secrets would follow...and they would tell the real truth.

"Well, Franco, don't forget that when you become president." They both laughed and finally let go of each other's hand. "My office is right next to yours. Let me know when you want to begin, I'll be right here. And, by the way, I'm Deborah."

"That's perfect...the Deborah part. And, I do need some time to figure out where the hell I should put all that stuff." He pointed to the boxes the porters had set next to his desk. "How about after lunch?"

"Back at one, then." She smiled then turned and headed to her office. He couldn't help noticing the way her lovely bottom moved under her fashionable skirt. The thin material clung to every lovely curve, dipping into the wide cleft between her cheeks, making him wonder what she was wearing beneath the flowing skirt, a thong...or nothing at all. Secrets, he thought...secrets.

Franco carefully unpacked his personal things and set them around the office. It was important that he looked authentic...your typical chief financial officer crap, mixed with the family pictures were a significant part of his cover. He stared at the picture of him and his wife, taken on their last vacation together. Separate vacations were taken these days with any excuse used to spend as little time together as possible. It was only a matter of time. That they would be parting ways was certain. When, was still up in the air. His lawyers kept insisting they needed just one more bit of incriminating evidence to make his petition bullet proof. Sometimes he just thought they enjoyed looking at the countless pictures of her naked body, under, over and beside her current fuck of the month. He had once loved her deeply, but now his heart was stone cold. He placed the picture on his desk and picked up the phone.

Curious, he thought. The C.E.O. was already at lunch. The C.O.O. was "out" for the rest of the day and the countless other "C's" were someplace other than in their offices trying to dig this ailing company out of the red. This was going to be too easy. He looked at is watch. It was just about twelve. He pushed the button and paged Deborah. "Have you had lunch yet?"

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After discovering he enjoyed every type of food except okra, Deborah suggested a small Italian restaurant within walking distance of the office. She assured him it was going to be to his liking as they weaved their way down the crowded streets of Pittsburgh's vastly improved and rejuvenated downtown. They were there quickly and he pulled the door open for her to enter.

"Bella Deborah," a booming and thickly accented voice pushed through the din of the obviously popular restaurant. "It's been far too long, Cara Mia." She instantly smiled and waved at the short and obviously Italian man armed with a stack of menus who was walking towards us. Again, with the sunshine on a cloudy day, he thought. "A table for six, as usual?"

"Just two of us, today, Paulo. And what ever you do, don't tell my husband." She laughed with a deep infectious laugh, turned and winked at Franco. "Pssssssst...He's my new boss, so give the check to him." By then everyone around them was laughing along with them. So much for shy and withdrawn, he silently observed.

Paulo sat them at a comfortable booth with a view of the entire restaurant. He slipped in beside her rather than sitting across from her, then teasingly sang, "let's give them something to talk about." She chuckled softly and picked up her menu.

"So what brought you to the Iron City?" she asked casually. "You look like such a Southern gentleman."

"Someone told them I was pretty good with numbers...so they made me an offer I couldn't refuse. What about you, Deborah?"

"Born, raised, married, you name it here...Pittsburgh gal." The waiter coughed softly to catch their attention and Franco looked over the menu quickly and then ordered something for both of them in perfect Italian. He thanked him and walked away to place their order.

"Emmmmmm...pretty damn impressive, Franco. But don't you go using any of that lingo on me. I just might take you up on it." She placed her hand on his thigh and squeezed it. "Capiche?"

"Capiche." We looked at each other with feigned seriousness then burst into laughter. "By the way, WHEN I do become president...YOU definitely have the job."

To say that he enjoyed lunch with the most intoxicating woman he had ever met was a bit of an understatement. He felt as if he had known her all his life. A spontaneously ordered glass of wine to celebrate their newly founded team added to the intimacy. Little personal secrets started to flow, as they tested each other's reactions. He realized there was a lot more to discover about Deborah Carpenter.

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The afternoon proved to be quite informative. Deborah had prepared a thorough summary of the financial situation of E. R. She spoke for nearly two hours, with few interruptions. He listened carefully...there was no need to speak; the answers to any questions he may have had were plainly visible. Someone was stealing. Deborah knew it but didn't say. He knew it but the one unanswered question was who. Make that two unanswered questions. She closed the reports and arranged them carefully on his desk, sat back in her chair and waited for the obvious question.

"Are you wearing any panties, Deborah?" From the expression on her face, it was obvious she had been prepared to answer the more obvious of the two. For a moment, she sat there, her mouth open, her eyes wide in surprise and totally caught off guard. Suddenly she burst into laughter and shook her head in disbelief. He couldn't keep a straight face any longer and grinned with his best little boy face.

"Franco, you are insane...and I am beginning to like you a lot." The laughter quieted down, but her smile was much harder to suppress. Finally her professionalism won out and she returned to the more serious matters at hand. She was very direct and as if reading his mind stated the obvious, "It doesn't make sense, does it?"

"No it doesn't. But are you willing to go to the mat on this one?" She nodded her head yes, her expression broadcasting the fact that this was one hell of a mess. "Just the two of us, until we figure this out, right?" She nodded once again. "Then let's call it a day and start fresh in the morning."

"Great idea," she replied. "I'll see you in the morning." She rose from her chair and started to walk away, but stopped abruptly and turned. She walked up to the front of his desk and leaned forward, placing her hands on the top. "And, the answer is no...never." She smiled, straightened up and without a word, turned and left his office. It was his turn to sit there with a stunned look on his face. He leaned back and rested his head on the smooth leather and smiled. Deborah Carpenter, I am beginning to like you a lot...an awful lot.

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When he arrived at the office the next morning, he was surprised to see that Deborah had already signed in. He had come in nearly two hours early to get a little work done without any interruptions. Only the night lights were on as he stepped out of the elevator onto their floor and only the hum of the copiers tainted the silence as he walked towards his office. Deborah's office door wasn't completely closed and a stream of light streaked across the carpet from the thin opening. He pushed it open and leaned in the doorway to say hello but quickly pulled back the words before they escaped.

Obviously accustomed to being completely alone at this hour, she was bent at the waist, both hands around her left ankle. She slowly drew her hands upward over her leg, smoothing out the silky material of her stocking. She gripped the wide band of lace and the top and gently tugged it upward. She repeated the procedure with similar care on her other leg. Realizing he was interrupting a somewhat private moment, he should have discreetly disappeared, but he simply couldn't take my eyes off her gorgeous legs, so beautifully misted in a thin layer of sheer black silk. As she stood up, he decided it was time to make a graceful disappearance, but before he could move, she reached down and drew the hem of her short skirt up to her waist. As the blood began to surge towards his rapidly hardening cock, Deborah Carpenter's perfectly molded ass redefined the definition of 'to die for.'

He had seen this ritual before...assuming she was about to pull the tails of her blouse under the waist of her skirt. He was right, but his focus was on the glistening, chocolate moons of mouthwatering flesh that were completely exposed to him. A myriad of images flashed before his minds eye as he stood there, each one building on the other as they conjured up memories from my past and glimpses of a hopeful future. Lips replaced fingers, replaced tongues, replaced cocks, replaced fingers and cock as his eyes riveted themselves on the tiny wrinkled hole that winked at him from that wide and inviting cleft that parted her cheeks.

With all his attention focused on Deborah's beautiful ass, he hardly noticed that her hands had stopped working with the tails of her blouse. It wasn't until he heard her soft moan, that he noticed her left hand was resting lightly on the credenza and her right had moved between her thighs. She spread her legs slightly and he could see her fingers moving over the puffy lips of her pussy. Another moan escaped her lips as she buried two fingers inside her moist folds. Her hand moved faster and faster as she stood there, masturbating in what she thought was her private space. His own excitement was growing out of control. He had to leave at that moment or become unable to guarantee he wouldn't simply rape her.

As quietly as he had arrived, he moved away from the door and slipped into his own office. Locking the door, he sat at his desk and quickly unzipped his fly. His cock was painfully hard, a drop of semen formed at the tip as soon as he gripped his turgid flesh. He closed his eyes as he stroked his throbbing cock; his mind replaced his hand with her moist and hungry asshole. It gripped him tighter and tighter until finally his seed spurted from the tip of his cock onto the floor in front of his chair. He had never cum so much or so violently. Even a lingering thought of her impaled on his thick cock brought made his softening manhood twitch in his hand. God, he wanted her. He had to have her. More than that, he knew he had to own her.