Promotion

Alan looked at his watch. It was now six o'clock. He wondered about staying later, since there was still work to do, but it was low priority stuff. The only reason he had stayed late at all was because he was expecting to hear about his promotion. He had applied for the position of head of department, and a decision was expected today.

He felt the interviews had gone well, particularly with the section chiefs. The interview with the Human Resources Director was less easy to assess. She asked very general questions about his motivation and drive. He had not met Mrs Murgatroyd before and unaware that she was a widow, he envied her husband. He had not been able to stop his eyes meandering between her breasts, up her skirt, and into her penetrating green eyes. Nevertheless he was sure he had adequately disguised his ogling, and had provided answers to the questions that were as satisfactory as they could be, given their general pointlessness. Who is going to own up to not having drive and ambition to a Human Resources Director?

All day Alan had waited for the phone call or email that would have told him the job was his. Generally most people in the firm went home at five, and the fact that he had not heard by now suggested that he had been unsuccessful. He tried not to dismiss all hope, and thought that maybe there was a delay in the decision-making process. There was always the chance he would hear tomorrow. If he did not get this job, he could always find another one. He felt he was worth much more than he was earning with Spartan UK, and so there was nothing to keep him here. The Human Resources Department ought to know that.

Not altogether despondently he headed for the lift, he was waiting for the doors to close when he saw Mrs Murgatroyd approching him from the other end of the corridor. Her stride was purposeful and determined. He watched her walk, with one foot set deliberately in front of the other. In some ways it was like watching a ballet, as she moved with such grace and ease. Her red hair shone like polished copper, as it bounced along with her stride, the style never losing its shape.

He imagined her imagined her running towards him on a beach in a bathing costume, but then decided that she looked so sexy in a business suit, that what he was looking at was fantasy enough. Maybe she was coming to tell him his application was successful. He held the lift door open for her, trying to read her expression, which was as inscrutable as that of a diplomat.

"Alan," she said calmly, as she entered the lift. "I'm glad I've caught you. It's about your promotion."

"What about it?" He tried not to betray any of the anxiety in his voice that would communicate how much he wanted the job.

"We haven't been able to come to a decision." The doors closed with a metallic clank. A sudden change appeared to come over Mrs Murgatroyd. She pushed him hard against the far wall of the elevator and covered his mouth with her soft red lips, inserting her tongue in a passionate probing exploration of his mouth.

She loved to take men by surprise in this way; it allowed her to get the upper hand, and the kiss was a kind of promise of more come, although a promise she would never quite fulfill.

Once Alan had overcome his initial surprise, he responded enthusiastically, and reached to put his arms around her. There was a particular thrill in kissing the wife of another man. The title of "Mrs" was one of her many features that attracted Alan. She broke away suddenly, shrugging him off, and pressed the lift's emergency stop button. It came to a halt between two floors, with an ominous clunk.

For the first time in a number of days, Alan stopped thinking about his promotion, and began to contemplate the possibilities of sexual rather than career fulfillment with the Human Resources Director.

She returned to him, smiling lasciviously. Running her index finger over his lips, and down his chin and neck, he could feel the sharp scratch of her long, painted fingernail caress his skin. With both hands she eased his jacket over his shoulders, but did not quite remove it. It served as a temporary bond for his arms.

She licked her red lips as she gently undid his silk regimental tie. Expertly her fingers stroked the knot loose. Having released it from his button-down collar, she rested it over her own neck like a scarf. She smiled again as she admired her prey. Alan was in his early thirties, quite attractive. Maybe not as youthful as she normally liked her lovers, but then this was more business than pleasure, (although the pleasure to be had was not inconsiderable).

With a sudden violent movement, she snatched his shirt open. Buttons flew all over the lift, striking her clothes, and ricocheting off the walls of the elevator, rattling until they settled on the carpeted floor. Alan's strong and hairless chest was revealed, enhanced by the rising and falling of his diaphragm as he breathing became more uneven. She gently ran her fingertips along the ridges and peaks of his pectoral muscles and nipples.

He caught his breath while she did so. Unaware of how to respond, he remained stationary. Part of him wanted to shed his clothes as quickly as possible, and ravish her on the floor. Yet part of him was frightened, since she seemed so determined and self-possessed, like a predator. He felt that he was in a cage with a lioness, and that a false move would leave him even more vulnerable than he already felt. It was a fear that provoked deep sexual excitement however, and he found his penis swelling as he watched her. He stood stock still therefore, breathing heavily, waiting for the next move. Meanwhile those fingers with the long blood-red talon like fingernails explored the moving landscape of his torso.

While not as sculpted as those of her other lovers, his body did not seem blemished by an excess of fat. Mrs Murgatroyd began to think she might enjoy this more than she had anticipated. His evident docility would assist in the plans she was making.

Another violent movement. She had turned him around. Her hand rested on the back of his head, while his cheek was crushed into the wood panelling wall of the lift. He could see his breath condensing on the varnished surface, as suddenly his breathing and his heart rate increased. He was learning to respect her strength. It thrilled him. He felt her knee in the small of his back, while she released his head.

Her hands occupied themselves with the task of tying up his wrists with the silk tie. She tied a tight knot, with the silk cutting into his wrists like tourniquets. The jacket, shirt and tie would now keep his arms completely immobile. He was nearly helpless. She reached around his front with both hands.

Her embrace was tight, and he could just about feel her firm breasts pushing into him, through the folds in his jacket. He could sense the hardened nipples boring into his back, and her hot breath on his neck, falling like a caress. She seemed wildly excited. She was a woman who liked to play games as he did, and hoped that he would ultimately enjoy playing this one too. He remembered her kiss, as he was supposed to, and hoped that it promised more conventional passion to come, and so he acquiesced as she continued to tie him up.

Her fingers found his belt buckle and undid it, yanking the stout leather strap out of his trousers in a single tug. She squatted on the floor while she belted his ankles together.

She moved away from him, to the other side of the lift. "Make love to me," she said, as she leant against the wall. Her smile was a sneer, her command a challenge.

As he tried to turn around to face her, he fell awkwardly onto the floor. From the ground she looked like a giantess. Her feet and ankles were at eye level. He could see the shimmering of her stockings in the harsh flourescent light. He could see her black stilletto shoes. Twisting his neck he could appreciate the perfection of her calves and thighs, that seemed to lead endlessly up to her slender torso, and cool beautiful face which looked down haughtily upon him.

Her feet were only six feet away from his eyes, and yet bound as he was the distance seemed enormous. He had to make it; she was asking for him, and he wanted to give her everything she wanted. He began to crawl, his restricted movements made this difficult, but by rolling around and contorting his body he inched closer towards her. The harsh nylon carpet burned his chest as he moved. This coupled with the discomfort he felt in his chin, and wrists only seemed to add to the sensations he now felt, which were bizarrely and astoundingly pleasurable. He looked forward to the reward he felt his exertions were earning.

Protected from burns by his trousers, his erect penis rubbed against the floor, the sensation felt strange and exciting. He was finding his excitement difficult to contain. He felt he was going to come at any moment. He hoped not, but the whole set up was so thrilling and new, he could not help himself.

As his lips reached the pointed tip of Mrs Murgatroyd's black stiletto-heeled shoes, he could sense he was nearly at the peak. He kissed her foot, and lovingly ran his tongue around the tip of her shoe. It shone momentarily, before resuming its harsh matt black colour, as his saliva evaporated leaving no visible trace. He inched further, straining his neck so that he could actually reach her foot with his mouth. All he could feel was the harsh nylon of her stockings on his lips. They felt dry, and absorbed the moisture of his tongue, as he continued to kiss and caress.

Mrs Murgatroyd looked down upon her victim, a smug smile of triumph playing on her lips. She could anticipate what was going to happen next, as Alan's face contorted, and he called out in agonised ecstasy. The pressure of the carpet, the fleeting physical contact with Mrs Murgatroyd, his own excitement, conspired to make him ejaculate, copiously and uncontrollably. His head fell forward onto Mrs Murgatroyd's delicate feet, where he passed out blissfully.

He was awakened form his reverie almost straightaway by the sudden upward movement of the lift, and Mrs Murgatroyd's harsh laughter.

"I'm afraid You don't get the job."

"What?" Alan was too stunned with the turn of events since entering the elevator, to really take in what was happening.

"I'm also not really very impressed with the work you've done of late. Too busy thinking about how much you're worth, and not keeping your mind on the job."

She produced a crisp white envelope from the inside pocket of her own jacket. "It's your dismissal notice, you're sacked for sexual harassment. You seemed to spend most of the last interview gazing up my skirt. We have it on camera."

Alan was too stunned to speak. He watched as the envelope fluttered down towards where he lay.

"So," she continued. "No severance pay, no pension rights, and no reference."

The lift arrived at the top floor, where Mrs Murgatroyd had her office. "Bye Alan, it's been a pleasure." Decorously she stepped over him, and her long shapely legs vanished completely out of sight, and the resounding echo of her stilletto heels died away.