Natasha had to have received it at least once this year. Probably after the Spring Dinner, when she was flirting with ol’ guy Bester, who was 75 years old and still as lusty as he had been when he was 19.
He said to himself, “My idol.” And Sally Hanley, with boobs down to her ankles and hair almost as long as her chin, well, she might have gotten it last around 1985, and whomever the poor bastard was, he was certainly inebriated. It’s likely that he died soon after. Her perfume, if she didn’t kill him, most likely did. Even if you merely shake her hand, it lingers with you for days.
You can smell her before you see her, for God’s sake. “Imagine how filthy she must smell and look in her underwear,” he reasoned. “Yuk, yuk, yuk, yuk, I suppose I’m going to puke on Mary Nolan’s worn-out sweater, which she wears to every meeting.”
The President finally tapped his gavel after what seemed like two and a half centuries ( “”Probably the only thing he’s tapped all year,” Jake remarked, clearing his throat in that irritating way, and yelling, “On with New Business!” Ms. Jules Titan of the Cunning Ad Associates Group is here tonight to provide us with a new ad campaign for our consideration.”
When a tall blonde about 35 years old entered the room with longish hair and what appeared to be a killer body, Jake thought to himself, “Yawn, fucking yawn.” Jake, like everyone else, was startled awake. She looked across the room as she placed her papers on the podium, her pleasant smile and confident demeanor filling the space. Then it happened: she focused her gaze on Jake, and he turned into butter. Throughout her talk, he didn’t hear a word she said. He couldn’t get her hair, face, clothes, clothes off, small but perky breasts, her… well, her everything off his mind. She finished her presentation, answered a few ridiculous ass questions, and thanked everyone for their time and efforts.
The President invited her to stay for the rest of the meeting and join everyone at the wine and cheese reception that followed. She replied yes and took a seat across the room from Jake. As she sat down, crossing her legs slowly, she offered him a fleeting, faint smile. Wow, and what a pair of legs they were: strong yet feminine. She cast a peek towards Jake, and their gazes connected. He smiled back, and she grinned back. She tried to pull her skirt down over her crossed knees by tugging on it. At best, it was a failed attempt. Jake reasoned that it was probably done out of habit or to force him to look at her. Then something happened.
At first, he assumed it was an accident, but when he looked up, she was smiling at him. Her legs were slowly uncrossed and her knees were slightly split apart. Her essence was squarely at him, she was wearing no panties, and when she saw him gaze up at her, she opened her legs a little more apart, and he knew for sure. It was done on purpose, and it was stunning.
What, oh what, was going to happen next, he wondered.