Susie Learns the Hard Way (10 page)

She'd gone cold again, and her muscles clenched as she felt the grab of fear; Susie knew they'd reached the critical moment in the interview. ‘Very important... very,' she said, defensively. ‘It's what I want most in all the world.'

‘As important as any big story then?' he asked, and after a tiny pause he let his hand rest on her knee again.

She looked down, but the hand didn't move. She looked up, and into his eyes. ‘Of course.'

‘So you think you're strong enough to cope with whatever circumstances might arise?' His hand slid along her thigh as he spoke, until it was brushing the hem of her skirt.

‘Well, I... um...' She stuttered her answer, because his hand was moving again, higher still, under her skirt, until his fingers were touching the soft skin of her thigh above her stocking-top. ‘Um, yes. Yes, of course.'

‘And keep your mind on the main objective; getting what you want from the situation?'

She couldn't answer for a moment because she was too shocked and surprised; his hand had moved again, and his fingertips had dipped down between her thighs and were brushing the sheer black silk of her panties, very gently searching deeper and lower.

‘Like this job,' he said quietly, and raised a single eyebrow once more.

‘Yes,' she said carefully, and relaxed back in her seat, letting her thighs relax apart, making room between them for his hand, which slipped deeper, fingers pressing into the wet material, spreading her open through the slickness of silk and her own warm honey.

‘Good.' His voice was still even and melodic. ‘Sometimes in this job – as you seem to have gathered already – we need to sublimate ourselves to the task in hand,' and so saying, he wriggled his fingers around the edge of the elastic and into her panties, caressing the slippery slickness of wet flesh which opened at his touch. ‘So we must put our personal discomfort second to achieving the objective.'

‘I understand,' she whispered, opening her legs wide to let him slide his fingers into her.

‘Yes, I think you do.' He pushed another finger in. ‘But can you cope with the wide range of demands that might be made on you in the course of the job – if you were lucky enough to get it, of course?' and he looked pointedly down at his groin.

His fingers were wriggling inside her and she squirmed slightly against them, legs parting still further as she reached out to place her hand over the straining bulge of a firm erection. ‘I think so, yes.' She looked him right in the eyes. She was so wet after her ordeals of the morning, and so ready after his fingers began to move inside her that he slipped a third into her with ease.

‘Mm.' She made a small noise of pleasure as her breath caught in her throat.

‘Not every situation ends with our reporters making their excuses and leaving,' he told her as his fingers straightened inside her and began to slide firmly in and out.

Susie's eyes widened and she nodded, unable to speak, as her hips began revolving in response, and breathing became difficult.

‘Sometimes we have to act the part; appear to be eager participants in things we don't enjoy.' He looked down at himself again. Susie had been so absorbed in what he had been doing to her that the hand she'd placed in his lap just rested there, immobile. She corrected that, unzipping him with one hand and then delving inside, quickly finding an opening into his pants and pulling out a straining erection with a purple head, which she began to massage, pulling it up and down.

‘You may even have to deal with some strange requests. Do you think you can act the part and keep your mind on the job in hand?'

This was clearly the time to act the part, although it didn't take a great deal for her to demonstrate arousal; his fingers were still busy and there was an orgasm arriving in the not too distant future. She licked her lips, her free hand brushing across her blouse, opening the buttons, pushing the lacy black bra aside so she could squeeze a breast, rolling and pinching the nipple, sending tiny thrills of electricity into her groin, releasing yet more hot moisture that flowed onto his fingers.

‘Stand up and pull your panties down,' he said, the tuneful note in his voice replaced by a new harshness.

Susie did as he instructed, stepping daintily out of the flimsy black silk knickers and dropping them neatly beside her chair.

‘Now turn round and lift your skirt.' She obeyed without a word, letting him admire her long legs, sheer black stockings, suspenders, and taut bottom. She moved her feet apart deliberately, making certain he could see her neatly-trimmed little pussy peeping pinkly at him.

He patted her bottom appreciatively, lightly at first, and then a little harder. Susie felt the gentle pats begin to sting. She heard the sound of each slap just a fraction of a second after she felt the trembling flush as his fingers stung her.

‘Bend over the desk,' he commanded, and as she obeyed she thought immediately of Miss Piggy.

‘Have you ever been spanked?' he asked. ‘I mean, properly spanked?'

‘Yes,' she told him, resting her hands on the warm leather of his desktop. ‘More than once.'

‘Tell me about the first time,' he said, one hand still fondling, patting, slapping, the other firmly between her shoulders, pressing her down on the desk. Her nostrils filled with the intoxicating scent of the leather.

‘It was a long time ago,' she said, ‘while I was at school.' He groaned softly behind her, and she heard his belt buckle jangle, followed by the soft flop as his trousers fell to the floor. ‘I was seventeen,' she continued, and she felt him close behind, ‘and she was my gym teacher.' Something warm and thick spread the lips of her pussy apart and slipped easily into her.

‘Go on,' he said quietly. ‘Tell me.'

‘She caught me playing with myself during a maths lesson.'

The editor pushed firmly into her, filling her completely, his groin pressed against her bottom. Then he pulled back until he was just touching her, holding her lips apart with his bulbous tip – and smacked her firmly.
Whap!
Susie squealed in shock and surprise and her whole body jerked, squirming around on the end of him. Then he pressed back into her, spreading those neat little lips wide as they stretched around the base of his very thick cock.

‘What did she do?' he asked, standing perfectly still.

‘I had to take my pants down and bend over her desk, like this.' Her voice rose to a crescendo at the end of the sentence because he was moving as she spoke, pulling slowly backwards until there was just an inch or to of him inside her, and her pink lips clasped softly around the swollen end of him and then,
whap!
went the flat of his hand and, ‘Oww!' squeaked Susie as her body quivered and slithered around the tip and it sank back into her.

‘And then?' he asked, and she felt her body twitch around his shaft, felt the juices flowing from her as she told him. ‘I had to touch myself. Like this,' and she reached down between her legs, fingers sliding in the wet smoothness, slipping around the thick base of his shaft where it penetrated her, feeling it slither against her hand as he eased out and her body closed around the last inch that remained inside and,
whap!
went his hand once more and this time her fingertips felt the tremors running through her and she squealed again. And then she moaned in sheer luxurious pleasure as he let his weight fall slowly forward, easing himself into her, spreading her fingers apart around his thickness as he spread her body open as well.

‘What next?' he asked, motionless.

Her fingers, greasy with her own juices, felt him begin sliding outwards as she spoke. ‘She caned me till I came,' she whispered quietly, and this time there was no slap, just a jerking spasm against her hand and in her pussy as the editor did the same, spraying burst after burst of hot fluids inside her as his hips pumped and the rapid thrusts almost brought her a climax of her own – but not quite.

Her hips were still circling, but he was shrinking inside her, and she felt his weight begin to lift as he started slipping out of her and she plunged two fingers in to replace him, giving her that fulfilling sensation of being spread and solidly filled. And as Mr Skase looked down and saw her pink lips shining wetly and the oily fingers stabbing in and out, he slapped her buttocks, one flat hand that landed with a sting and sent a quivering tremor through the surrounding flesh, a tremor which sent her tumbling over the precipice into her climax, so the sharp squeal of shock turned to a long moan of ecstasy.

She lay collapsed across the desk for some moments, chest heaving as she gasped for air, fingers still buried to the hilt. With the other hand Susie pushed herself upright, rolling around so she sat back on the edge of the desk, facing the editor, once again neatly dressed, his designer suit perfectly buttoned and correct. In contrast, Susie's blonde hair was tousled, her blouse hung open so one nipple jutted proudly from within, her skirt was bunched around her waist, her thighs wide and her little pussy lips glistening with an oily sheen where they separated to enclose two elegant fingers. Watching his face as carefully as he was watching her groin, she eased them out with a squelch and raised them to her pouting lips, licking the juices as if her fingers were a lollipop. Then her mouth opened wide and she swallowed her fingers, lips closing around the base of them. As she pulled them free Mr Skase coughed and straightened his tie.

‘Well?' she asked. ‘Do I get the job?'

 

 

 

‘You'll have to prove yourself first, of course.'

Susie could hardly believe her ears. She thought that was what she'd been doing, bent over his desk for the last ten minutes.

‘I mean,' and he smiled that smile, the professional one that totally concealed his real self, she now realised, ‘I mean, we can't let everyone who wants a job here just have one, now can we?' The voice was calm and melodic, softly reassuring and as false as the smile. ‘I see dozens of hopeful applicants, all looking for a job.' He shrugged. ‘I do my best, but I can't give them all one, now can I?'

Susie was enraged. He'd tricked her into, into – well, all that, and now he was going to send her home with no job and no knickers. She'd just spotted them lying on the floor beside his desk, and she was on the point of picking them up and throwing them at him when he spoke again – and she froze.

‘You'll have to spend at least a month on probation before you can be on the staff. I think we'll put you with Harry – he's our best man, you know,' and he flicked a button on his phone. ‘Send Harry up, will you please,' and he let it go again, resuming his conversation with Susie. ‘I'm sure you know his work if you read the paper regularly, mm?'

A job! A job! He was giving her a job! A month on probation – well that was no problem. She'd prove herself in half the time!

‘You know Harry?' asked her new boss.

She knew Harry all right, and his work. Susie had been reading Harry Anderson stories since she was sixteen, and they were always the best. In fact, Harry had probably given her more physical pleasure than any other man alive,
and
she'd been faithful to him for longer than any other man. She smiled as she straightened her clothes and hair, making herself presentable again. ‘I know Harry.'

‘Good. Well you'll know he always gets the biggies, and this one is huge. Massive. Harry's working on a story about a scientist who's apparently perfected a pill that keeps men hard for hours and hours.'

Who needs a pill, she thought? Just keep them celibate for seventeen years like old what's-his-face.

‘It's only the ghost of a lead, but if anyone can track it down and bring it home, Harry's your man. And here he is, right on cue as usual.'

The door had opened silently, and as it swung shut Susie was sure the editor had made a mistake, because the man she was looking at bore no resemblance to the mental picture of Harry Anderson she'd formed in her mind while reading his stories week after week. This was no hale and hearty man's man who knew how to take care of himself. This was a tall thin man with stooped shoulders and a straggly mess of long dark hair. His shirt collar was open, and a thin tie dangled lankly six inches below it and swung in space. Thin didn't begin to describe him. But there was no mistake.

‘Harry, this is Susie. She'll be joining us soon, and I want you to take care of her.'

Susie held out a hand in greeting, but Harry ignored it completely.

‘I see I won't be the first.'

‘I'm sorry?' She let her hand fall back.

‘To take care of you.'

‘No, I'm sorry...'

‘Just Harry's joke.' The editor's voice didn't sound so melodic now. ‘Harry, tell Susie about V2.'

Harry looked suspiciously at the editor.

‘Go on, she's going to be working with you. She'll have to know what the story is. Tell her.'

Harry shook his head decisively. ‘I don't want any help, and especially not from her.'

Susie blinked, shocked at his abruptness and rudeness, not only to her, but also to his boss.

‘Of course you need help,' said the editor patiently. ‘We've been through all this before. You need help, you need a woman's help, and you need it now.'

Harry glared at Susie, then at the editor. ‘I've never worked with a woman and I don't want to start now. And I especially don't want to start on this; it's just not the sort of job for a woman – never mind a little girl,' he added viciously.

Susie bristled. ‘I'll have you know I can take care of myself.'

‘I think you'll find she can, Harry. And if it's not her, it'll have to be someone like her. Now stop making all this fuss. I thought we'd agreed on this last week.'

Harry looked at Susie carefully, and then at the editor. He studied the carpet for some time, finally looking up at Susie again.

‘Okay,' he agreed.

‘Good, now tell Susie where you've got to.' The editor settled back behind his desk.

‘Okay, girl, here's the story so far,' said Harry brusquely. ‘What we're chasing, V2, it's a hard-on pill, helps blokes get it up and keep it up—'

‘What, Viagra, you mean?' Susie interrupted him, but she could see from the look on his face it was a mistake, and she cancelled her intention to tell him she objected to being called ‘girl', and resolved to keep quiet from now on.

‘No, not Viagra. It's not even like Viagra. If you shut up and listen you'll find out.' He sighed deeply and continued. ‘It surfaced at about the same time as Viagra, but the research work was started much earlier – probably five or six years before. And anyway, Viagra was an accident. They were trying to fix heart disease, not humping disease.' He snorted happily at his witticism. ‘Our one, V2, was a deliberate attempt at finding an aphrodisiac, and it wasn't done by a big drug company, just a lone scientist. Which is why it took longer.'

Susie moved closer and gave him the benefit of her man-killing stare, just to encourage him. Harry glared, and she realised that had been a mistake as well. ‘Go on,' she said hastily, ‘I'm listening.'

‘Anyway, this is better than Viagra because it works in a different way. Viagra doesn't make you randy, it just allows you to do what you want when you want when you are. This one, V2, actually makes you randy to start with, gives you a whopping great hard-on, and lets you keep it up for ages.'

Susie nodded. ‘Why do you call it V2, then?'

‘Harry's joke,' interrupted the editor. ‘He does like to have his little joke. Don't you Harry?'

Harry ignored the question and carried on talking to Susie. ‘Viagra was first, right? Right. Publicly, anyway, so V1. And everyone knows about it, a slow-moving device that makes a lot of noise for a small bang. But V2 came second, see. It's top secret, much faster, totally silent, and makes a bloody great bang.'

Susie nodded again, but must have looked a trifle blank.

‘V1, V2, see?'

‘Like the war, you mean?'

‘Yes girl, like the war, I mean.'

‘Got it.'

Quite obviously Harry doubted that she had, but he carried on. ‘Anyway, the important thing is that it actually
creates
desire – or so we've been told. So if you didn't want to have it off but you swallowed the pill, then you would want to –
and
you'd have a stiffy to do it with as well.'

Susie couldn't imagine anyone not wanting to have it of, especially not a man, but she stuck to her new policy of keeping quiet.

‘Thing is, it's going to create a revolution; a real social revolution. Apart from its legitimate use as a therapy for impotence, it has a playtime value as well, and couples are sure to use it for a laugh, and so will swinger clubs, and gays – you name it. Anyone who wants a quickie can have it whenever they like. And even when they don't like,' he added darkly.

Susie cocked her head to one side to show she was listening attentively – and indeed she was.

‘Imagine, for example, what would happen if it was slipped into the water supply of a building like this. There'd be rampant blokes running about all over the place waving their knobs at all the female staff.'

‘Sounds like a party at the Uni.'

‘It isn't funny, you know,' glowered Harry, in exasperation. ‘If all you're going to do is take the piss, I can get along much better without you.'

‘No, sorry Harry, really I am. Go on, please.'

‘Suppose someone slipped a pill into the cup of tea I drank before I came up here. Five minutes from now I might rip all your clothes off and bend you across that desk.' Susie knew she was blushing and the editor was studying the pattern of the wallpaper intently. ‘But you can see that if you spiked the beer in a nightclub, there'd be wholesale rape. It'd be like a Roman orgy. And it works the other way too; if a woman fancied a man who didn't like her that much, all she'd have to do was slip him a pill. Once this pill's on the market, women can rape men.'

‘Sounds fair to me. We've waited ten thousand years for that privilege.'

‘Look girl, if you're not going to take this seriously—'

‘She is, she is,' soothed the editor, coming out from behind his desk and ushering Harry to the door. ‘It's okay, Harry. I'll send Susie down in a moment. If you can find her a desk and a terminal in the meantime, and then you can talk over the next move. Catford, right? Right.'

He was still talking as he closed the door, and then turned back to Susie. After a pause he took a deep breath. ‘Harry's been here the longest you know, almost from the start. And he's always worked on his own, all those years. And he's done a great job with this story up to now, a great job. But it's too big for him to cover alone, and we do need a woman for the next bit – there are some places only women can go and some places where they're just better than men.'

‘What sort of places? Are they in Catford?'

‘Oh, you'll find out,' he said airily, waving a dismissive hand. ‘I'm sure Harry will explain it better than I can. And it's his story, after all.'

Susie thought she could see the logic in that, although it never occurred to her to ask why they needed a junior reporter, a trainee, for this most important story when they had several very experienced ones who'd been on the paper for years.

‘Now off you go,' said the editor, ‘and take your knickers with you. Harry notices that sort of thing.'

Susie looked down and felt herself blush; her black lacy knickers were still in a crumpled heap on the carpet – the carpet Harry had been studying so carefully. Now she understood his dig about being taken care of.

‘Don't worry,' said the editor. ‘Harry's seen it all before. And if he hadn't seen your knickers on the floor then maybe he wouldn't have decided you're a big enough girl to help him with his story. But pick them up before my secretary comes in. She won't be as impressed as Harry was.'

Wondering if Harry really had been impressed, Susie crammed her panties into her handbag and left the room, guided by the editor, who followed her out with one hand on her bottom until they reached the doorway and the vigilant Miss Summers. ‘Take her down to Harry,' was all he said, before the door swished shut behind him.

Mr Skase crossed the room, opened a door, and stepped into an annex not much larger than a big cupboard. One wall was stacked with electronic equipment and screens, and he pressed a button on a black machine with blinking lights. There was a twittering noise, and some of the screens flickered with light. He waited a minute or so and pressed another button – and a large television screen in the centre of the wall came alive. In the picture, taken by a small camera hidden in the foliage of a pot plant next to the large desk, Susie sprawled across its leather top, panting and gasping as she plunged two fingers in and out of her body. The picture changed, and from a camera hidden in an ornament on the wall unit behind the desk, there was a perfect close-up of Susie's face, tortured in the agony of near climax. Five seconds passed and the shot changed again as the recorder switched automatically to the camera by the door, which gave a close-up of the desk. On a normal day it would have been a head and shoulders shot of the editor himself, but today it was a close-up of Susie's bottom, bent over the desk, her two fingers crystal-clear in glorious technicolour, disappearing into a pretty pink pussy that filled half the screen.

Skase watched himself administer a sharp slap that echoed from the loudspeakers. ‘Oooohhaaaahhh!' she wailed, and slumped across the desk.

‘Perfect,' said Skase, pressing the button again. The machine ejected a cassette, upon which he wrote a few letters in neat handwriting, finishing with the date. He left the annex, closing the door carefully, and crossed to the opposite wall where a picture swung aside to reveal a wall safe. Into it went the tape, along with a dozen others.

 

‘There's your desk, girl.'

They were in a huge open-plan office, the width of the building, and the windows were made of darkened glass.

All the light came from overhead fluorescent tubes set in the low ceiling, and the room hummed with air-conditioning and the rows and rows of computer terminals stretched out in ranks across the desktops that lined the room. The only things stopping it from looking completely like a factory production line were the occasional half dead pot plant and the huge mounds of books, newspapers, magazines and pieces of paper that were stacked on every available piece of desktop and scattered on the floor. The staff called it the Checkout, said Harry, and it did have more than a passing resemblance to a supermarket.