"I'll be frank, Mike," said the Boss. "Janet has dozens of wealthy suitors. But I'm happy her heart rules her head. We both know that money talks. But money isn't everything. And I wouldn't have it any other way, Mike. I trust you. You know the business, and as my son-in-law you'll build it up over the years into a flourishing, prosperous enterprise."
I nodded glumly. I took a quick glance at Janet. Her face was impassive. She was entirely absorbed with her blouse.
"Exactly when are you thinking of getting married, Mike?" asked the Boss. "Have you fixed a date?"
"Not yet," I said hollowly.
He frowned. Then his face cleared. "What about it, Janet? It's the woman who decides these things. What are your plans? When will you take the big step?"
Janet seemed more interested in her blouse than in marriage. She said disinterestedly, "I'm in no hurry. We can leave it until next month, if Mike wants."
"Mike won't want to drag on and on," said the Boss. He beamed at me with fatherly understanding. "You don't want to waste time, do you, Mike? I know just how a young man feels."
"No," I said hollowly.
"You don't want a lot of bother or ceremony?" he suggested.
"No."
"Well. That's settled then. It'll be a very quiet affair. I'll fix it all up tomorrow. It's ten days for a Registry Office marriage, but three days with a special license." He eyed me sharply. "You're not in that much of a hurry, are you, Mike?"
"No."
"Then, that's settled," he said contentedly. "A quiet Registry Office marriage, and then off on your honeymoon. I'll take care of costs. My wedding present to you both. All expenses paid wherever you want to go. Have the honeymoon of your lives. Then, we'll see about putting you on the Board of Directors, Mike. How's that?"
"Fine," I said hollowly. 'Tine."
Janet had got her blouse adjusted. She sat on the edge of the desk and combed-her hair. "Where will we live, Father?"
The hem of Janet's mini-skirt was in her lap. He frowned. "Pull your skirt down, Janet. You're a big girl now." Then he relaxed back in his chair. "Mike can live with us until you find a little love-nest."
"You're sweet, Father," cooed Janet.
The Boss looked at me. He expected me to coo gratefully.
"Thanks," I said.
"Don't mention it, Mike, You're one of the family now!"
I got to my feet. "If you'll excuse me," I said huskily. "There are urgent things I must attend to."
"All right, Mike. Off you go, I'm sure Janet has plenty of little secrets she wants to tell Daddy."
I wandered back to my office like a man in a trance. I sank down into my chair trying to believe this had really happened! I could hear splintering wood, the rending of metal and the crumbling of masonry. My world was still falling down around my ears.
It was all the fault of my big, fat prick! Such fury overwhelmed me I was tempted to drag it from its lair, lay it upon the desk and beat it to a pulp!
Perhaps some men would want to marry the Boss's daughter and take over the business, even if the girl was Janet. But they wouldn't have my problems!
I was already engaged to marry Lillian on the twenty-fifth of the month!
Lillian was a dish, and very sexy. We'd been sweethearts since we were teenagers. Our parents were friends from way back and our families were marrying us. Any rupture between Lillian and me could only cause a big family upset.
I was trapped. If I didn't marry Lillian I'd hurt my parents. If I didn't marry Janet I'd be out of a job. That was serious. Music is the only business I know. The Boss could throw me out and ruin me in the pop world forever by saying I'd lost my touch.
There was a knock. Janet sidled in, locked the door and ran to me. She dumped herself on my lap, flung one arm around my neck and burrowed her teasing tongue into my ear. "We're lucky, Mike," she breathed. "Dad's had to go out. He won't be back for a couple of hours." Her hand went to my groin, rubbed up my prick, unbuttoned my fly and groped inside. "We've two hours!" she thrilled, wriggling around until the wet gusset of her panties found my fingers.
"Let's do it with you lying on the desk and with me on top," she thrilled.
I met Lillian in Piccadilly Circus and we had a few drinks in a Shaftesbury Avenue tavern before we went on to an Italian restaurant in Soho for spaghetti.
"You look tired, Mike," she said sympathetically. The waiter poured wine and discreetly retreated, leaving young lovers in intimate conversation.
"I am tired," I said. "A very busy day at the office!"
She nodded understandingly. Her hand rested tenderly upon mine. "How is business, Mike?"
"Up and down."
"After we've married you'll have to work harder and ask for an increase, Mike. I've got my job but basically everything depends upon the man. I mean, if we're going to have children…?"
I nodded glumly.
"And we do want children, don't we?"
Again I nodded.
Lillian was perfect in bed, and I enjoyed going places with her. But mostly I enjoyed her in bed. This marriage business had crept up on me craftily over the years. I'd never thought of marriage. I'd never said one word about it. But everyone took it for granted and our parents had made all the plans. There I was, sitting in a restaurant with my future wife and feeling trapped. Lillian was a fine girl. I loved fucking her. But this business about babies, working hard and accepting responsibilities had nothing to do with fucking!
As Lillian talked on about the flat we must rent and how our parents would help us with the payment on furniture I became gloomier and gloomier.
"Mother's got the license from the Registry Office," she told me. "It won't be a showy affair. Just our families and a few friends."
An icy finger touched the tip of my spine. The Boss was taking out a marriage license for me and Janet in the morning. What if he applied to the same office that had already issued a license for me to marry Lillian!
I began to sweat. I couldn't marry both of them! And the truth was I didn't want to marry either of them. I was happy in my work, and happy getting around in my spare time. Like any healthy young animal I loved fucking. But fucking's got nothing to do with getting married. Yet two huntresses were closing in on me simultaneously? and I could see no way to escape.
"You're not yourself, tonight," said Lillian.
"I'm fine," I croaked. "I've had a busy day!"
She smiled confidently. "Don't worry. Ill soon put you in the mood."
I shared a little pad with Dave Powell. He's Third Radio Officer on a passenger liner and is away weeks at a time. We only use the pad for screwing. When he's home for a week or so he has the exclusive use of it. When he's away I use it.
The pad wasn't the Hotel Ritz, but it had a strong bed, a bouncy mattress and an annex with a wash= basin.
"I shan't see much of you the next couple of weeks," said Lillian, as she unzipped her skirt "I've so much to do. My wedding dress to be fitted, and clothes for our honeymoon." She shrugged off her blouse and bra.
"I have things to do too," I said bleakly.
"Mum and Dad will arrange the reception, but I'll have to help."
"Of course." I felt like a condemned man listening to the details of my execution.
She was stripped naked now. She eyed me sympathetically. "You must have had a bad day at the office. You are tired."
My cock dangled limply, as sad and sorry as I was. Janet had sucked me off three times and made me fuck her twice before I'd left the office. But it was the trapped feeling that made me, and nay pride, so despondent.
"Lie down, darling," said Lillian with a businesslike air. "That's right." She knelt on the bed beside me and stroked my forehead. "I'll soon make you feel good," she promised.
Lillian loves fucking. But she's ruthlessly methodical about it. She'd make a mental note she was going to fuck Tuesday. Then on Tuesday, she'd fuck, and fuck all night. Nothing would deter her from it. But if she never planned it, fucking never entered her head. Every time we met it was automatically a fucking date. My big fat prick has a mind of its own. It likes to keep busy. Very often my prick was worn out when I met Lillian. She was accustomed to me having a tiring day at the office. But she was always so set on fucking when we met that she'd taught herself re-arousal techniques that always got results. Even when I hadn't an ounce of spunk left in me, she'd work on me until my prick was hard enough to toss herself off against.