"Oh, thank you, sir!" Marcy said, falling on her knees in front of him and lifting the gigantic balls in worshipful hands. Then she lowered her adoring the swollen tip of his cock.
CHAPTER EIGHT
"Why Marcy McCall, what are you doing here?" Suzi Howard asked. "I thought you were taking a month off."
"I am," Marcy said, looking appreciatively at the tall, dark-haired girl who was filling in for her as Mr. Price's secretary. She remembered the time she had found Suzi in the restroom with her dress hiked up around her hips as she adjusted her garter belt. Suzi hadn't been wearing panties, and Marcy had looked quickly away from the patch of black hair covering the plump mound between her thighs. Funny, she had felt nothing but embarrassment then; but now she wondered what it would be like to lick that long, pinkish slit she had glimpsed under the tangle of hair. Dr. Villiers certainly had taught her a lot about awareness and the talent for enjoying life.
"Then what are you doing here?" Suzi asked, leaning back in her chair, and not seeming to notice that this gave Marcy a fine view up the inside of her thighs to the edge of her black lace panties.
Marcy felt a shiver of desire, but confined herself to answered the girl's question. "Mr. Price and I had a little bet in regard to my vacation. I just thought I'd stop by and tell him I won."
Suzi laughed. "Well, I hope you brought your track shoes along. You know how he reacts when he sees you."
"I did," Marcy said, lifting her leg and resting it on the desk top so Suzi could see her spike heels and, incidentally, the expanse of her curved white thigh and the blonde cunt hair showing through the sheer white panties.
"Hey, you look different," Suzi said brightly, looking away. "You must be enjoying that vacation."
"I am," Marcy said, thinking of Dr. Villiers' last words to her. Everyone is a sex target for you, my dear. Never hesitate to go after any person who appeals to you, no matter how unlikely a target he or she might seem. Remember, you are a missionary of sex, and all human beings are open to conversion.
Suzi was an unlikely target, Marcy admitted to herself. She had been one of the most sought after girls in the office; men had swarmed around her before her marriage to a handsome young executive. It seemed unthinkable that she would be interested in a lesbian escapade, but Villiers had assured her that nothing was impossible sexwise. But first things first.
"Is Mr. Price in, Suzi?"
"Huh?" Suzi's eyes jerked away from the leg show Marcy was putting on. "Oh – yeah, he's in. Shall I tell him you're here?"
"Yes, please," Marcy said, remembering how she had envied Suzi her poise, her power over men, her beauty, and her cool. Perhaps later she could.
"He says for you to come right in," Suzi reported, switching off the intercom. "You be careful, Marcy."
"I will, hon. Don't worry about me." Marcy gave the other girl a pat on the shoulder and a broad wink as she headed for the inner office. "See you later."
"Yeah, later," Suzi said, staring after her, puzzled.
Marcy opened the door to Price's office and went in, her body relaxed and swaying, silently extending an invitation that had never been offered before.
"Hello, Marcy. What a pleasant surprise," Rodney Price said, looking up from his papers. "I thought you were going to use your mouth off to…" He stopped, detecting the change in her, but not quite understanding what it was. The crisp white blouse and modest skirt belonged to the old Marcy, but the walk was entirely new.
"There's something I want to tell you," Marcy said, looking at him with smoldering eyes, "and I thought it best to come in and tell you in person."
"That's fine, Marcy, just fine," Price said heartily. "Glad to see you."
Marcy came around the desk and perched on one corner of it, swinging a leg so that her skirt hiked up and exposed a good six inches of thigh above the tops of her stockings. She was wondering why on earth she had been such a stuffy little prude as to evade the hands of such a handsome man. It was going to be a groovy experience to let him fuck her on the top of his big teak desk.
"I made a mistake, Mr. Price," she said in her new, husky voice.
"Did you?" he asked vaguely, eyes riveted to her legs. "You're different, Marcy. Something has happened to you."
"I guess I've learned a lot in the few days I've been gone, Mr. Price," Marcy said, deliberately opening her thighs and letting him see the transparent white panties, with the marshy expanse of her pussy clearly defined behind the damp material.
Sweat popped out on Price's forehead, and he licked his lips nervously. The Snow Maiden had suddenly turned into a come-on girl, and he didn't know what to make of it. "Uh – what was it you wanted to tell me? What was the mistake you made?"
I wonder which would be the most fun, to fuck him first or to suck his cock? Which would surprise and shock him the most: if I lay right down on the desk, spread my legs, and told him to stick his prick in or if I got down on my hands and knees, opened his fly, and started to blow him?
She moved sideways on the desk until her full-fleshed thighs were on either side of his hands, as they clutched the paper he'd been holding when she came in. "I wanted to tell you how wrong I was."
"About what? Jimmy? Have you changed your mind about our bargain?" Price asked eagerly. "Do you want to try some other way of protecting your brother? Perhaps I could…"
"You don't have to do a thing for me, Mr. Price," Marcy whispered. "I want to do something for you. Something you'll remember all your life."
Price gulped and brushed at the silver hair at his temples. "What would that be, Marcy?"
Marcy took the paper from his fingers, smoothed out the marks his damp hands had made, and placed it neatly in the "Out" basket. As she turned, the toe of her shoe rubbed along Price's thigh, and he jumped like a skittish horse. Marcy laughed and slipped the shoe off, then ran her toes up to his crotch, where his pants were stretched taut across the swelling of his manhood. He watched the foot, fascinated, as it traced around the outline of his balls and on up the shaft of his cock.
"I must have been crazy," Marcy said, more to herself than him, "When I think what I've been missing for twenty-two years, I really must have been crazy."
"Oh God, Marcy, do you mean what I think you mean?" Price said hoarsely. "I've wanted you so much! I spend half my time in the office with a hardon because of you!"
"That must have made Mrs. Price happy – when you took those hardons home for her to take care of, I mean," Marcy said, as he leaned forward in his chair to kiss her breasts through the tailored blouse.
"Her? That frozen turnip? I've never seen her excited over anything but a thousand dollar bill!" he said, his fingers crawling up under her skirt to the warm flesh of her thighs. "It's been years since she fucked me with anything but a disgusted look on her face."
"Poor Mr. Price," Marcy murmured, working his zipper open with her toes.
"Marcy, Marcy," he whispered huskily. He kissed her knees while his fingers edged under the elastic of the panty legs. "Darling, sweet little Marcy."
"I've learned that sex is going to be the salvation of the world, Mr. Price. It's the one thing everybody needs. Even Mrs. Price needs it. Maybe we ought to try to do something about her."
"The only thing anyone could do for her sexwise would be to jam a million dollars up her dried-up cunt," Price said bitterly.
"Have you ever tried a wet, slippery tongue?" Marcy asked. She had gotten his belt unbuckled and his cock had sprung free of the restraining cloth so that she could run her toes up and down it.