Take It Farther

TAKE IT FARTHER

By

Laran Mithras

Other Novellas by Laran Mithras

Intrusion of the Heart

The Knight of Her Heart

My Two Vampire Lovers

Eclipse of Her Heart

The Captain of Her Heart

The Captain of Her Heart: Assassin's Gambit

The Captain of Her Heart: Pirate's Passion

Phone Sex With The Neighbors

DRAGON, SHIFTED

The Sharing of Carlene

The Babysitter's Desire

Two Vampires For Leah

Loaning Her To My Boss

CAT, SHIFTED

 
Beach Swing

Lonely Wife

Taboo Hearts

Jill Is Watching

Melting My Ice Queen

Love and Liberation

Dee's Desire

RAVAGED By The Dark Elves

Short Stories

by Laran Mithras

After Her Death (Kindle Only)

My Wife's Seduction (Kindle Only)
Cover Photo by WWW.ShutterStock.com

Take It Farther is a work of fiction. Names, locations and incidents either are
a product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

Copyright © 2015 - All Rights Reserved

And do not
forget to do good and to share with others, for with such sacrifices God is
pleased.

~ Hebrews 13:16

Bob Patterson died. In fact, he died horribly. He had been
doing nothing unusual. Black Friday afforded him the opportunity to grab some
Christmas gifts early.

He had waited patiently at the curb and crossed when the
"Walk" sign came on.

A woman in her SUV, too busy texting, claimed she never even
saw him. She had been doing forty-eight in a twenty-five zone. Her SUV was
totaled. So was her life, after that.

But poor Bob's body parts and Christmas presents were
scattered over a one hundred and sixty-one foot area. The coroner even scraped
a wet piece of his flesh off the plate glass window of Napa Auto Parts.

Bob Patterson had been an executive at a company that cannot
be named.

I'm Richard Franklin and I was promoted in his spot. I know
I might have waited another few years if not for the tragedy. Though I would
now be invited to the executive parties thrown by the head of the division,
Jacqueline Preston, I knew the Christmas event would not be a time of
rejoicing.

I cannot name the company because we're big. Really big.
Very well-known big. So big our former employees tell the President of the
United States which positions they will accept in the administration. We run
things. We run almost everything the average Joe takes for granted.

Having done a lot of the footwork on bundling derivatives, I
was now an executive who handled shutting down banks. Money is business and our
business was power. We took small banks, drove their stock under, then stepped
in and bailed out the depositors by buying the bank's assets.

What the public didn't know, or if they had heard they had
dismissed without care, was that we bought those assets for five to ten cents
on the dollar.

That's right. A million dollar cash deposit we picked up for
usually less than a hundred thousand dollars. The bad loans? That's what I used
to do. We bundled the bad loans and resold them to the public as investments.

It is so incredibly easy to rip-off the public that we even
arranged our own bailout, and the executives went on vacations that made
Obama's outings seem like ghetto parties.

Now I arranged the destruction of banks. My former duties of
bundling bad loans got handed to another bright ladder-climber who was probably
eager for me to die.

But I was still young.

My desk-phone chimed. "Mister Franklin?"

I pressed the com-button. It was the voice of Jacqueline
Preston's personal assistant. "Yes?"

"Mrs. Preston will see you now."

"On my way."

She was one floor up. I buttoned my jacket and swiped my
card for the executive elevator. Entering, I waited calmly while the doors
closed and it rose smoothly to the next floor.

I was not nervous. I had been next in line and everyone knew
it. I knew Jacqueline and other than being a demanding division lead, she
wasn't anyone for me to fear. I did my job and did it very well.

My phone chimed. Text message from my wife, Jolene.
"Love you." She often did that during the day.

I put the phone back without answering. Wasn't a good time
as the doors opened and I was about to talk with the head of the division. I
would text her after.

We loved each other, dearly.

Carla, the bespectacled secretary with the severe bun, rose
from her spacious desk. She led me past the empty conference rooms reserved for
important takeovers and to Jacqueline's suite.

The smooth heavy oak door was pushed open and I was
admitted.

Jacqueline was standing at the window, a folder in hand,
looking down at the street eight stories below. Her smart gray business suit
went well with the auburn hair shot with gray. She was not a vain or phony
woman to dye her hair. She indicated a chair facing a monumental desk.
"Sit, Richard."

"Thank you."

"I didn't have to worry about giving you the promotion
speech when you moved into Bob's position. We're fortunate you worked with him
so closely."

I looked down. It was the proper thing to do.

"You're invited to the Christmas party, of course. I'll
have Carla put you on the invitation list. You're married, correct?"

I knew she knew I was, but sometimes things changed with
people. "Yes. Jolene."

"Bring her. It's semi-formal attire; we're not trying
to impress anyone."

I nodded.

She moved to her desk and dropped the folder on it - some
dossier on some bank or other. "I'm sure I don't need to remind you how
delicate our work is."

"No ma'am."

"This kind of position might give one the irresistible
itch to brag to one's friends. Don't fall for the temptation."

"No, ma'am."

"We do what we do quietly."

"Of course."

"Avoid strange new women."

"Ma'am?"

"Snoops. Reporters. Keep your nose clean."

I nodded. "Ah, yes. Bob spoke of such things. I do
everything with my wife. No reporter is going to find me at a bar on my
own."

She took a breath and nodded. "Welcome to the executive
leagues, Richard." She indicated the door.

I stood and gently shook her hand.

Carla was typing on the computer at her desk. She said
without looking, "I've added you to the executive mail list. I'm sending a
few things to you now."

"Thank you."

She didn't look at me and I didn't expect her to.

I entered the elevator back down to my office. I'm a
handsome man; my wife tells me so. I eat right and my physique is slim. But at
the company we work for, the very atmosphere is sexless. No, Carla would not
look at me with admiring eyes, even if she might have thought I was attractive.

Power was like that.

I texted my wife back. "Love you too. We're invited to
the Christmas party."

She sent a few minutes later. "Formal?"

"Semi."

"Whew. What a relief."

I sent, "See you in a few."

~ ~ ~

I drove an S-Class Mercedes. I had been making that much
money before. I would almost double that with my new position. But it wasn't a
windfall surprise like winning a lottery ticket. I had earned it and expected
it.

I pulled into our McMansion as Jolene called it. Planned
community, huge gated circular drive. Very posh. Still have a few years left on
the mortgage which we were overpaying by a very large amount.

Her BMW was in the garage. She worked as head administrator
of the school district, right under the publicly elected position.

She was in the kitchen.

My wife is handsome. I say handsome because her plain
features would not be considered runway-model material. But she has a feminine
grace that oozes beauty and sexuality. Her straight black hair was silk in my
fingers and her pale skin often reminded me of Morticia from the Addams Family.

She planted a kiss on my lips that left me smiling. She
always makes me smile.

"Smells good," I said.

"Garlic chicken. With rice."

"Mmm."

"How was Jacqueline?"

I sat on the wrought-iron stool at the counter. "Like I
expected. She even warned me about strange women."

"No flirting?" She gave me a questioning eyebrow.

"With her? Heavens no. It's not like that there."

"I find it hard to believe no one even looks at
you."

I just shook my head.

~ ~ ~

She smiled at me from bed. It was our night.

I winked. "Someone made you hot?"

It was our thing. We roleplayed her being hit on by other
men. Lately it was some young guy at the district offices, but I suspected he
was totally imaginary.

"Mmm, yes. He brushed up against me today. I swear I
felt his bulge."

I climbed over her, naked, and laid next to her. My hand
moved down to her pussy. "So you think you might have felt him?"

"Yes." She smiled as I toyed.

"Was he hard?"

She gripped my soft shaft. "A little harder than
this."

I dipped a finger into her hole. "I think you should
accidentally grab him tomorrow. Feel him with your hand."

"Ooo, you're naughty."

"I bet he'd like it." I was hardening. I moved
down and placed my mouth over her clit. "Maybe he dreams of licking
you." One touch of my tongue was all it took. I knew what set her off –
the words, the lick.

She convulsed, gasping and holding my head with clutching
fingers. She laughed. "Darn you."

"What?" I gave her a grin.

"I wanted to enjoy that a little more." She
quivered and convulsed one more time.

I climbed up and slid into her. Her pussy was pure velvet.
I'm not a big, hung man that way. Neither am I small. My six inches is right
for my frame and reaches the end of her canal. She says it's a perfect fit. I
can say that it does indeed seem to be like a snug glove.

Her eyes squeezed shut under me with a look of
concentration. Her gasps were light, ending with a tiny moan at each thrust.
She moved with me, her hips rotating to meet mine.

She's great in bed and I'm a lucky man.

Jolene held up the dress to her. "Think it's
okay?"

I was lying in bed, reading a magazine. Saturday night and
I'm reading a business rag that thinks it understands why the banks are
closing. Most of the big editors knew. The media heads were all in on our rape
of American wealth.

Americans thought they were rich. But ninety-eight percent
of all the money in America was held by the top one percent of people. The
media strung along the Joes with stories of middle class taxes and the like.
The Joe just bobbled his head like it was on a spring and repeated what he
heard on the TV.

The elite in America had forced the collateralization of
labor. Pure and simple. In other words, Americans slaved their labor away
endlessly to enrich the wealthy.

I gave her dress a critical look. It was a nice blue number
with elbow-length sleeves. It looked perfect. I told her so.

"Are you sure? I can go red."

"No, don't do red. Too gaudy."

"Even for Christmas?"

"Trust me. You picked the perfect color."

Her smile was appreciative.

~ ~ ~

The Christmas party was at the division offices. My ID card
got us into the underground parking past the guard and also onto the elevator.

Jolene said, "Wow. This almost feels like the CIA or
something."

"Security is tight. What we do must remain hidden from
public knowledge."

"Are you positive what's going on is legal? I wouldn't
want to—"

"Jolene. We write the laws. Congress doesn't sneeze
without our permission."

"But those panels and hearings?"

I shook my head. "We make two billion on a move and the
SEC or Congress arranges a fine of two hundred million so the media can make us
seem like we answer to government. It's all a show."

"But two hundred million…"

"Out of two billion. Do the math. It's quite a
profit."

She gave me a look but shook her head. She didn't entirely
approve of what I did, but she couldn't find a viable argument as to why I
should quit. As long as I didn't try to rip-off my own company, I was just as
much above the law as they were.

A chime on the elevator signaled the banquet floor.

Though everyone called it the Christmas party, there was
nothing of Christmas about the decorations. That kind of display was forbidden.
Everything was decorated in blue and silver, as was the custom.

Any gifts given out were wrapped in neutral or Hannukah
paper.

I led Jolene in past a nodding guard.

A young woman greeted us with a clipboard. She said,
"Welcome. And you are?" She looked down at the list.

"Richard and Jolene Franklin."

She smiled. "Right this way."

Jolene said, "She doesn't know you yet?"

I leaned close. "Hired help for the event. She doesn't
work for us."

My wife nodded in understanding.

The woman plucked a card from a table and indicated our
seats with a smile. "These are your seats. The snack buffet is open and so
is the bar. Enjoy your evening."

I pulled off my wife's coat and hung it over the chair. I
did the same with mine. We weren't early and there were other people mingling.

"Drinks?" said Jolene.

"My thoughts, exactly." I escorted her to the bar.
A few couples were there.

I introduced my wife to them with the practiced civility of
dealing with bank managers.

Jolene said to the bartender, "Pina Colada?" She
loved those.

I said, "Rum straight. On the rocks, please."

Our drinks were made with moves that said this man had
served bar for years.

Drinks in hand, we turned back.

"Richard." Jacqueline was smiling.

I indicated my wife. "This is my wife, Jolene."

Jacqueline's face lit up in a smile I normally did not see
on her. "I'm Jacqueline Preston, head of the division. This is my husband,
Walter."

I had never met Walter. He was about my height, handsome and
looked to have a swimmer's body. He had a touch of bad-boy look about him but
his eyes had that distinguished polish bad-boys never attained. We all shook
hands.

Walter held Jolene's hand after the shake, up, as if about
to lead her to dance. "What do you do for a living?"

Jolene blushed. "I'm head administrator at the school
district. It's a very secure occupation."

He nodded slowly. "Those positions require attention to
detail and efficiency. I broker insurance bundles."

"Insurance bundles?"

I shot Jacqueline a glance.

She gave me a wicked smile.

Walter said, "My wife here often has me broker debt
derivatives to insurance companies."

Jacqueline winked at me. "Someone has to do it."

I understood that mentality entirely and I had no problem
with it. Much of the kind of business we did was "kept in the family"
as much as possible. I said, "Lucky man." Brokering meant he moved it
along. He didn't have to base anything of his asset value on debt. He just
collected money from companies forced to base their assets in debt.

Jolene tinkled a small laugh. "Is it exciting?"

Walter smirked. "Hell no. Are you kidding? But it's
lucrative." He turned to me. "Richard, I believe your charming wife
and I are on the verge of an interesting conversation. May I? I'm sure
Jacqueline wants to talk with you, anyway."

I raised my glass. "Of course."

Jacqueline moved to stand beside me and watched her husband
and my wife move over to the lounge area.

Walter sat in a comfy chair while my wife sat on a couch.
They were already talking.

My boss sighed. "I know my husband so well."

"Hmm?" I sipped my rum.

She took my arm. "Come."

We walked over to her table and we sat.

She said, "What's the one thing you notice about the
women here, tonight?"

"I don't make a habit of checking out—"

She touched my arm. It was a gesture, not flirtatious. I
know when someone is flirting. "I don't mean to imply you do. I meant on
the surface?"

I looked around. Various dress colors were in evidence. Only
one in red. I said, "Most have had the decency not to go gaudy."

She chuckled. "You mean Elaine in her red dress? I
think she's already drunk. She was probably plastered when she bought the
thing."

I didn't know what to say to that.

She said, "But I wasn't talking about dresses."

"No?"

She motioned her own drink around. "Notice that most of
the women are blonde."

I took notice. Better than half were blonde, most likely
fake. There were a few redheads and a couple auburns. Several brunettes and
almost all of those looked dyed. "Oh, yes." I did not mention dye
color. Wasn't sure how you talk about that around a woman who doesn't dye her
hair. Would she be offended? Defensive? Best to keep my mouth shut.

"Walter appreciates women with naturally dark hair, especially
black, even if it has gray or white in it."

I looked over at Jolene. They were still talking. She was
leaned forward, forearms on her knees and holding her glass out. Her head was
tilted as she talked to Walter on her left. "Ah. So he appreciates my
wife, then."

She looked at me for a moment. "Maybe I should say more
than appreciates."

I gave her a look. "What do you mean?"

She pursed her lips. "Have you ever wondered what it
would be like for your wife to flirt with other men?"

I was shocked. Had the woman had some spy or something in
our bedroom? But no, otherwise she wouldn't be asking. I wasn't sure if this
was a test or not. The safest thing would be to deny it. "Goodness no, of
course not." I said it too quickly.

Her head moved a little, tilting as she looked me in the
eye. She laid a hand on my thigh.

I froze. This was not a move Jacqueline ever put on anyone
in my sight. But as flirty as the move was, I didn't feel as if she was being
flirty with it. Suggestive maybe.

She said, "Maybe it's something you could discuss with
your wife?"

"Her flirting?"

She sat back up and removed her hand. "Walter. A few
drinks in him and who knows what he might say. Or do. You might prepare her to
expect his attention."

"Oh. Um, this doesn't bother you?"

She twirled her glass. It was nearly empty. The ice cubes
went round and around. "He's devoted to me. But…"

"But?"

"He has his little fancies." She wriggled her
fingers dismissively.

I knew nothing to say in response. I just nodded as if
realizing what she was implying.

Walter talked to her for hours.

~ ~ ~

I hung my jacket in the bedroom closet. I was feeling a
little tipsy. "You liked the party?"

Jolene was giggly. "Mmhmm."

"Was Walter that good a talker?"

She came out of the open bathroom door, detaching her earrings.
Her smile was broad. "He had some funny banker jokes."

I grunted. "I wonder if Jacqueline thinks they're
funny?"

"Did you really talk business all night?"

I frowned. "What? Me? No." After washing in the
bathroom, I climbed into bed. "We talked about you, actually."

Jolene seemed surprised. "Me? Whatever for? Did I do
something wrong?"

I snuggled up to her. "No, not at all. Did he flirt
with you?"

She smiled, wriggling in the bed. "Oh, in the mood,
hmm?"

"I meant it. Did he flirt?"

She seemed unsure. "Well, I don't think so. He told a
lot of jokes. What's the matter?"

"Nothing. But that's what we talked about. Apparently
he has a thing for women with black hair."

She giggled. "Get out."

"How many blondes did he talk to?"

"Well, not many, he was keeping me busy while you two
talked—"

"About you."

She settled back. "Are you serious?"

I nodded. I was unsure how to proceed. Fantasy talk was one
thing, but now I was suddenly at a loss. Would she become angry? "Did you
think he was handsome?"

"Well… sure. He was. I didn't think much of it,
though."

I reached a hand down to her panties. She was warm, about
like usual.

She said, "Nothing happened."

"Jacqueline said that he liked to flirt. I was just
asking is all."

She shook her head. "Well… I don't mean to disappoint
you." She suddenly sat up straight. "You didn't tell her about our
fantasy-play, did you?"

"Goodness no. I told her those thoughts never crossed
my mind."

She eased back down.

I said, "So he didn't try any kind of flirting?"

She shifted to her side, towards me. She reached out and
touched my cock. "No, though he did spend a lot of time talking to me. He
seemed like the perfect gentleman."

I swelled in her hand. I always got hard when she was
talking about some man and stroked me. It seemed so taboo. "Maybe he was
waiting to see what was decided between me and Jacqueline."

She gave me an eye. "And what was supposedly decided?
Anything I should know?"

"No, I meant that he couldn't have known how the
conversation went. Maybe he didn't want to try anything until he had talked to
her. About what I thought and all that."

"Hmm."

I was hard.

She said, "I think you wanted him to flirt."

"I did not."

She gave me a squeeze. "Something else is telling me
otherwise."

"I was just asking if he did."

"What if he had looked down my dress?"

I opened my mouth in a pant. "You dirty woman."

She laughed and stroked me.

I said, "Would it have made you mad if he had?"

"Flirted? Or looked down my top?"

"Either."

She stroked a little slower, thinking. "No, I don't
suppose I would've been mad."

I panted more. Her slower strokes were tortuous. "So he
could have and you would've been alright with it?"

"I don't know. Depends. Might have been fun."

My eyes bulged and so did my cock. I gasped, trying to get
it out of her hand. I pulsed in strong convulsions and sperm erupted from the
tip in jetting squirts.

Jolene's eyes went big. "Oh, wow."