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A sigh of exhaustion filled the silence of an empty office as Ben Halford slumped back into his chair. Staring at the cavernous ceiling of the office, he rubbed his bleary eyes and took a long drag of his cigarette. It was yet another long night in a string of never-ending long nights. As usual, the air-conditioning had shut down promptly at 8pm, and his office became stuffy and unbearably warm, filled with the smoke from his Marlboros.

Pushing away from his desk, Ben stretched out and walked around. His legs were getting numb after sitting down for hours. A glance at the clock reminded him that he hadn’t eaten anything since lunch and his stomach rumbled with hunger.

The third quarter was drawing to a close and his thoughts were preoccupied with the projections he was running for 2005. As the managing director of Haley, Goodman & Partners Advertising, sleep deprivation was common. Ben did not relish the thought of facing the board of directors of the largest advertising agency in New York to explain a right royal fuck-up next year. The books looked good for this quarter though, he was on track to meet the numbers, and profits looked strong.

Ben Halford had a reputation as a hotshot in the industry. His meteoric rise to the proverbial top of the food chain was the stuff of legends, whispers of awestruck account executives that floated in hallowed hallways. Fresh out of Harvard law school, Ben ditched the courts for a career in advertising. Now just 35, he was the youngest MD in the agency’s 80-year history.

Many called him brilliant, others called him ruthless, and some called him a prick. Not that he gave a shit. Ben had turned the agency around, pulling the archaic firm out of the red, and plunged it headlong into the 21st century. He pitched for hot brands like Nike and Apple, and won. Within a year, the agency had reinvented itself, from old-fashioned to cutting-edge. Staff morale was up, turnover at an all-time low and profits were hitting the roof. The agency had a new leader – a visionary who inspired.

Ben’s success came with a price. He worked too hard and slept too little. He hadn’t dated in 3 years, his last serious relationship ending on a bitter note. She said that work was his priority, that she couldn’t play second fiddle anymore. Several unsatisfying trysts ensued, but it seemed more work than it was worth, and the right woman never came along. Not one that aroused his intellect, heart AND cock at least. A year ago, he had given up altogether. Tugging off his tie and shoving it into his pocket, Ben stared pensively out into the night sky.

“Maybe I really should try getting a life… Damn…”

Slamming his laptop shut, he grabbed his coat and resolutely walked down the dim hallway. Passing rows of cubicles, he made a left for the elevator. As he turned the corner, he noticed a light coming from the lower floor of the huge office.

“Fuck! Doesn’t anyone goddamn read my emails? Switch off the fucking lights!! Here I am busting my ass, and these people can’t even help keep the overheads low…”

Still cursing under his breath, Ben walked down the grand central staircase of the two-story office and headed towards the illuminated office. He roughly slammed open the door, reaching inside to the light switch, when he heard a gasp of surprise.

“Jeez, Ben! You scared the shit outta me. What the hell are you doing?”

Cecile Richards was jumped up from the couch, and had spilled her coffee over her blouse and on the storyboards for the new Nike Presto TV commercial.

“Damnit CeCe! I thought you left the lights on. I was going to shut it off. Uh, those storyboards are ruined…” glancing down sheepishly at soggy coffee-soaked cardboard. “Are you presenting them tomorrow?”

“You’re one lucky man. The clients are already sold on the concept, we’re shooting the spot next month. I’ll let this pass, but you owe me one.”

Cecile had recently joined the agency as an Account Director a couple months ago. Handling the Nike account, she’d made a big impact with the clients, cementing the relationship for the agency. Only 30, she was the woman responsible for Adidas’ turnaround, launching the “Impossible is Nothing” campaign. Intelligent and highly strategic, she was personally headhunted and poached by the board for the Nike business.

Cecile looked nothing like the shrewd and aggressive executive she was. Standing at five feet, she was petite and fine-boned, almost fragile. She was truly a picture of contrasts. Long, straight jet-black hair made her fair skin look almost white. Dominating her oval-shaped face were doll-like eyes, pools of cerulean blue, fringed by a thick crescent of black lashes. A girlish smattering of freckles danced across her pink cheeks and over her nose-bridge, strangely incongruous with her usual razor-sharp black business suits. Upon interacting with Cecile however, one would be quickly relieved of any impression of fragility and girlishness – this woman was as tough as nails.

Cecile was going through the research from the focus canlı bahis group studies when Ben barged into her office. After hours, Cecile shrugged off her black Dior jacket. The heat was stifling, making the still air even more unbearable. The white silk camisole she wore underneath clung uncomfortable against her sticky skin. The coffee she’d spilled now soaked through the expensive Italian silk – it was ruined.

“Good thing the coffee wasn’t hot, would’ve burnt my tail right off. ‘Scuse me a sec, I’ll go try and salvage this mess.”

Ben looked down sheepishly as Cecile walked towards the ladies. Looking around, he noted that her office was spotless and organized, with the exception of a few boards propped up against the walls. Several framed pictures lined the wall above the couch. Pictures of a smiling Cecile carrying an infant, with a handsome brown haired man standing behind her. Pictures of Cecile playing in the yard with a toddler…

“Hmmm… married with kids eh? Lucky woman… I wonder how she finds the time…”

Taking a seat on the couch, Ben dabbed at a few spots of coffee on the black leather. Cecile returned shortly, a huge wad of paper towels in hand, scrunching at a huge damp brown spot on the front of her once-white top.

“Damn, it’s officially fucked. I should get out of this thing.”

“Hey, I’m really sorry. Let me replace it, or pay you, or something…”

Ben couldn’t help staring at her. She’d obviously tried running the spot under the tap, and the thin white silk had turned almost transparent when wet. He could make out the faint outline of a lacy white bra under the filmy material, and the swell of a firm breast. He’d never be able to tell, under her stiff black suits, that Cecile was so curvy. Her arms were toned, with a small nipped-in waist and pert breasts that seemed a little large for her petite frame. The sexiest thing though, was how her collarbones protruded slightly. Most women who had visible collarbones were usually too skinny, but not Cecile. Her small waist flared into round shapely hips, tapering down to slim black-stockinged legs, and ending in sharp-toed 3-inch patent stilettos.

Ben quickly averted his eyes as Cecile looked up from her furious dabbings. He silently cursed himself for coveting a married woman, but hell, she sure didn’t look like she’d had kids.

“It’s ok, I was never that fond of it anyway.”

“What are you doing in the office so late? Shouldn’t you be at home or something? I thought I was the only workaholic no-lifer in this office.”

“Hah! I got first dibs on that title… Nah, was going through some research. Just wanted to make sure we were 100% sure on the campaign positioning. It’s bloody huge y’know, getting it wrong is not my idea of fun.”

“Look, it’s late. Shall we get out of here and get a bite? It’s on me – payback for ruining your top?”

“Not tonight. I’m exhausted, and walking around town in a damp shirt isn’t the most appealing thought. I’m heading home though, let me grab my stuff and I’ll walk with you.”

Cecile walked over to her desk to retrieve her handbag and briefcase. As she turned, Ben enjoyed the view of a shapely ass, and thigh revealed by a slit in the back of her pencil skirt. As she bent over slightly to neaten the stacks of files and documents on her desk, the slit hitched up just enough for Ben to catch a glimpse of the lacy top of her thigh high stockings and garter belt.

Ben was definitely a leg and ass man. Breasts were nice, but they could never compare to the contours of smooth ass cheeks topping off a pair of slender legs. Very unusual, Ben thought, for a woman to be wearing stockings and a garter belt to work in this day and age, but it was sexy as hell. He could feel his cock coming to life, stiffening slightly in his pants. With consummate willpower, he turned his thoughts to Monday’s board meeting to prevent a full-blown erection.

“OK, I’m good to go.” Cecile whirled around, bag and briefcase in hand.

Making their way out of the building, they made small talk about the Nike account and life in general. As they reached the lobby, Cecile hailed for a cab and sped away, leaving a trail of dust in the humid summer air. Ben watched the yellow taxi disappear into the landscape of red taillights of the busy street. A rumble in his stomach reminded him of his hunger for food, but now, his hunger seemed to be for something – or someone else.

The city was buzzing, still alive at this time of the night, with streets full of people and vehicles. But Ben felt strangely alone and empty. He decided to walk the ten blocks home tonight. Perhaps it would help clear his head and wipe the licentious thoughts of a married colleague from his mind.

The walk didn’t help, and the thoughts didn’t go away. By the time he reached his front door, an erection was throbbing in his pants and his shirt was damp with sweat. Throwing his keys carelessly on the side table, he stripped off his shirt and pants and dropped them on the bedroom floor as he stepped into the shower. He was a messy man, and would never bahis siteleri survive without Mrs Gonzales, the housekeeping lady who came in every morning.

Bracing himself on the countertop, Ben stared at himself in the mirror. The harsh lighting accented the dark circles under his eyes and the thick stubble on his chin. Although fatigue was apparent, he could be described as handsome. Ben didn’t have conventional good looks, his coloring dark, distinctively Mediterranean, with features that were hard and unforgiving. Piercing deep-set hazel eyes were topped by arched brows on a hard angular face framed by short spiky brown hair.

At 6 feet tall, he had a lean, somewhat lanky frame. On weekends, Ben would work out at the nearby gym, or run in Central Park. His physique was a far cry from his high school days, where he played basketball every day. Still, he was lightly muscled with broad shoulders and slim hips. Looking down at his semi-hard cock, Ben gave up resisting nature. He hadn’t had sex in nearly a year, the last encounter an unsatisfying drunken one-night stand. Masturbation held little appeal for him, he’d much rather be in a wet inviting pussy than jerking off in an empty apartment.

Tonight however, was a whole different story. When you gotta go, you just gotta go.

Turning the water on full blast, he let the hot water rain down his face. Soaping up, he ran his hands over his hard abdomen, feeling the ridges of the muscles as they involuntarily contracted. Bracing himself with one hand on the wall, he gripped his hard cock with the other. Drawing the foreskin back, he slid his fist down the base and drew slowly back on the shaft. He wasn’t hung like a horse, but he had a nice cock. It was straight and thick, 7 inches long and almost 3 inches in circumference, with a big bulbous heart-shaped head.

Pumping harder now, he felt the pressure building in his balls. The image of Cecile’s pert ass and stocking-clad legs were creeping back into his mind. He imagined what she’d look like with her skirt off. In his mind’s eye, he could see her in the lacy black garters and thigh-high stockings. She was bending over, her ass cheeks stuck high in the air, framing pussy lips glistening wet for him… Ben came hard and fast, cum spurting out in rhythmic gushes in the most intense orgasm he’d had in a long time.

* * * * *


Cecile looked up from her laptop as Gina came through the door, a large black box in her hands.

“A package came for you CeCe. Oh, and you have an appointment with Mr Slater at 1pm, and an internal review with the team at 4pm.”

“Thanks Gina. Oh, and could you print out 3 sets of the strategy papers and the brief as well?”

Eyeing the matte black box, she recognized it as Prada. Pulling the lid off, and spreading open the tissue, Cecile lifted up a beautiful floral print blouse. It was made of sheer silk chiffon and toga-style, which left one shoulder bare. The print was set on a dark grey background, with splashes of deep red and fuschia roses, and a silver metal circlet held the shoulder strap together. Strong masculine script on the card read:

“For the one I ruined. B.”

Cecile smiled to herself. Well, well, well… the asshole wasn’t as bad as she heard. In the few months she’d been at the agency, Cecile’s interactions with Ben were confined to meetings and the occasional “hi” at the coffee machine. He had a reputation for being an arrogant hard-ass. She’d heard that he’d been single for years, and vicious gossip claimed he was gay. Not one to participate in, or believe in the rumor mill, she had decided to find out for herself.

He was definitely cute, definitely hot, and most definitely her type. But then again, he was her boss. Crapping in her backyard was not an option. Cecile had fought hard to get ahead in the rat race, and she wasn’t about to let gossip undermine the respect she’d earned. Putting the blouse back into the box, she tucked it under a shelf and returned to work.

On the other side of the agency was a man who was finding every excuse to make his way to the pantry. The pantry of course, was located on the lower floor, where one would need to pass Cecile’s office enroute. At only 11am, Ben had already had 3 cups of coffee and was practically bouncing off the walls. His secretary looked into his office with growing concern at the man pacing up and down the length of the room. She was very, very worried. Not only did he NEVER make his own coffee, he did it three times in two hours.

He hated this feeling, this unnerving attraction for Cecile. He’d never felt this kind of instinctive pull for a woman before. And for chrissakes, she was married with kids. He cursed viciously under his breath as the memory of his orgasm the night before caused a shiver to run through him. Every time he passed her office, he’d steal a glance through the glass window.

She was wearing another of her black suits again, but it looked a little different today. A Mao-collar jacket that zipped up to her throat, made of some kind of stretch material because bahis şirketleri it fitted snugly, clinging to every curve. She wore it with a pair of black hipster pants that hugged her ass and showed off her long slim legs. As it ended halfway on the calf, and he could see she was wearing a pair of red satin sling-backs, with straps that criss-crossed up her ankles. The heels were 4 inches of metal stiletto. She looked so fucking hot…

A knock on his door interrupted his dirty thoughts. Blake, the Finance Director strode into his office and plunked himself into his seat.

“What’s with you today Ben? You look like shit. You should be a happy man, the figures look so damn good it’s turning me on. C’mon, let’s get the report tied down for Monday’s board meeting, I wanna leave early and shag my wife. It’s Friiii-day…”

“Good for you then. Just had a bad night, couldn’t get to sleep. Anyway, not much to do, everything looks pretty good. You can get a headstart on that shag. By the way, how’s the Nike numbers looking?”

“Strong, revenue exceeded the projections. CeCe’s damn good.”

“Yeah, so I’ve heard. Wonder how she does it, married with a kid and all.”

Blake snorted out a loud laugh as he walked towards the door.

“You gotta be kidding, no one can have kids and work the hours she does. She’s not married. Man, where the hell did you hear shit like that?”

Ben’s mind was reeling as Blake left. Not married? Then what the hell was with the pictures on the wall? Who was the kid? And the guy? Maybe she was divorced? Questions were filling his throbbing head, but at least the throbbing in his pants felt a little less guilty.

Craning his neck, Ben leaned over the rail and saw the light was still on in Cecile’s office. He had finished for the day 3 hours ago and had spent the time planning his moves. A bundle of nerves, he’d explored every plausible way of striking up a “casual” conversation. Knocking gently on the door, he heard a muffled “Who is it?” as he let himself in.

“Hi, working late on a Friday? That’s unacceptable you know? What would people say about how I treat my employees?”

“They’d say you’re a slave-driving boss.” Cecile quipped back with a throaty laugh.

She’d taken off her jacket again, and was clad in a black skin-tight haltertop. It was stretchy and clung to her like a second skin. Ben could see she wasn’t wearing a bra and her nipples were visible under the fine fabric. The neckline plunged to under her breasts in a deep V.

“Just kidding… Was supposed to meet a friend for drinks, but she cancelled on me at the last minute. All dressed up and nowhere to go, so I decided to continue working. What’s your excuse?”

“Only that I have no life. So, would you do this no-lifer a favor and make his Friday? How ’bout a drink?”

Cecile eyed him suspiciously. She felt awkward in his presence, and was wondering why he’d taken a sudden interest in her. But then again, she couldn’t help but notice how good he looked today. A change from his usual suits, he was wearing a black knit sweater with charcoal pants. It molded itself to his wide chest and shoulders and showed off his flat stomach. His flat-front pants fit well, displaying slim hips and firm thighs. Stubble shadowed his square jaw, with full kissable lips. The scent of his aftershave was clean and fresh, mingling with his natural scent, creating a heady aroma that filled her senses. Oh, what the hell…

“Why not? It’s been a long week. What did you have in mind?” She was throwing caution to the wind.

“How about the Mezzanine? They’ve got good drinks, and we could get a bite as well.”

The Mezzanine was a trendy bistro and bar a few blocks from the agency. Perched on the 50th floor, it offered a panoramic view of New York through 360-degree glass windows. Based on the décor of a middle-eastern harem, the interior was decked out in vibrant reds, purples, blues and gold. Ornately carved beds filled with velvet pillows with raised wooden platforms in the center took the place of tables and chairs. Surrounding each “bed” were gauze and bead curtains that shielded the occupants from prying eyes.

As they entered the bar, the scent of musky sandalwood incense surrounded them. The place was packed, and the only available seat was tucked far in a corner, towards the back of the bar. Ben was grateful for the spot, it was quieter and offered some privacy. Two bottles of Moet later, Cecile could feel the alcohol go to her head. An empty stomach wasn’t helping things.

Ben was enjoying himself. Cecile’s guard had come down significantly and she looked like she was having a good time. The conversation flowed as easily as the champagne, and he was discovering that apart from being intelligent, she also had a great sense of humor. In the soft candlelight, her skin was luminous and milky-white. Lying on her side with her elbow propped up on cushions, her full breasts threatened to spill out of the low-cut top. The position emphasized the dip and swell of her waist and hips. Cecile looked positively ripe and luscious, with the light creating shadows in the deep valley between her breasts. Ben shifted slightly, the erection making his pants uncomfortably tight. He fervently hoped she wouldn’t notice the bulge in his pants.

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