Slowly and Then All at Once

All characters engaged in sexual activity are over the age of eighteen.

Martina Meadows

The August sun had pushed the Atlanta temperatures well into the 90's that Sunday afternoon, so the Meadows family headed for their subdivision's community swimming pool for a little relief. As they reached the gate surrounding the pool, Martina thought she recognized a familiar figure sun-bathing on a lounger at the far end of the enclosure.

"Hey, John, can you keep an eye on Kyle for a while? I'm going to go talk to Clare."

"Sure," he replied cheerfully. "Come on, buddy, let's play horse and rider."

As the father and son began to splash about noisily, Martina walked around the pool toward Clare Garrison. Not only were the young women friends, but both worked for III Insights, the fast-growing internet consulting firm.

As she neared the lounge chair, Martina could now see that Clare was wearing a thong-style bikini. The sun glistened off her co-worker's well-oiled flanks like a beacon. Self-consciously, Martina glanced down at her own swimsuit. Although also a two-piece, hers was definitely more conservative than what Clare had on. Typical, Martina thought snidely.

"Hey, Clare, are you trolling for dads?" Martina called out as she pulled up a chair beside the blonde.

Clare rolled on her side at the sound of the familiar voice. "Nope, just sunning my buns," she said, not at all offended by her friend's dig.

With that the two women began to chat about mundane topics, but when they began talking about the office, Clare's expression suddenly turned serious. "Can you keep a secret?" she asked in a lowered voice.

Intrigued, Martina replied "Absolutely," in the same quiet tone.

Clare leaned closer. In a low voice she confided, "I'm having an affair."

Martina rocked back in surprise. "For real? You're kidding me, right?"

"No, I swear. It's been going on for a couple of months now, and I'm dying to tell somebody."

Still doubting Clare's sincerity, Martina leaned toward her friend. "Who's the guy?" she demanded.

"You've got to promise you won't tell anyone," Clare demanded.

"Of course -- you know you can trust me. So who is it?"

A sly grin came over Clare's face. "It's Ivan."

"Ivan Ingersoll -- our boss? Now I know you're lying!"

"Keep your voice down!" Clare urgently shushed her. "I don't want anyone to hear."

"I can't believe it -- you're sleeping with the Iceman?" The two women began to whisper animatedly for quite some time until a call from John interrupted them. "Hey, Martina, are you going to come swim? Kyle is starting to get tired."

Martina glanced down at her watch and was startled to see how long she and Clare had been gossiping. "Sorry, Hon," she yelled, "we got carried away. I'm coming now."

As she rose to reunite with her family, Clare grabbed her wrist. "Remember," she said sternly, "not a word about this to anyone."

Martina drew an X over her heart and then hurried back to John and Kyle.

"What was all that about?" John wanted to know. "You two were really into it."

"Nothing important," Martina answered dismissively, "just the usual office chit-chat."

Later, after all three had taken showers to wash off the chlorine from the pool, Martina began putting together the components for an early supper. It was fortunate they were having left-overs, because her mind was definitely not on food preparation.

I can't believe Clare's having an office affair. And with Ivan, of all people! The Ice Man -- who would have thought it?

As she heated their food, she couldn't help going over what she knew about her boss. Ivan Ingersoll had burst onto the scene as the wunderkind of the internet. Known as much for his caustic witticisms as his industry insights, he had quickly carved a reputation as the bad boy of tech. His prescient article on the emergence of internet influencers had grabbed the notice of digital movers and shakers, and he'd capitalized on his sudden notoriety by launching a highly successful consulting business: III Insights. Despite his reputation for being cold and demanding, he'd quickly assembled a team of bright young minds who helped him win contracts with some major industry players.

But after working on his team for a year, Martina was having a hard time believing that Ivan Ingersoll was having an affair in the office. Sure, there was a fair number of young, attractive females in his firm, but Martina had never heard any gossip along those lines, at least until now. She knew that Ivan was married, and she'd assumed he was faithful to his wife Nadia. But as Martina thought about it now, she realized she didn't even have a clear picture of what Nadia Ingersoll looked like. She'd only seen the woman briefly at some company dinner, Martina remembered, and she'd thought at the time that the wife looked older than her husband.

But the truth was that Martina had devoted most of her attention that night to Ivan. After all, her boss was tall and slim, with black hair and a thin mustache that made his countenance simultaneously distinguished and sly. Between his bad-boy reputation in the industry and his ice-man demeanor in the office, he was simultaneously a mysterious and attractive figure.

Now, based on what Clare had just confided, it seemed there was more fire beneath that surface than Martina had imagined. And the fact that Clare was the one who had managed to melt that icy exterior just made him that much more fascinating.

I wonder if I could've attracted his attention if I'd known he was available? she mused. Then she remembered the swimsuit she'd worn today. She shook her head. Not looking like that.

Her husband, however, had apparently had a more positive reaction to her appearance at the pool. After the couple had put Kyle to bed, John tried to initiate a little romance. Martina shut that down quickly. "I have to get to work early tomorrow," she explained. "Maybe later in the week."

Despite his disappointment, Martina's husband managed to fall sleep quickly. She, however, had more difficulty. Why would Ivan pick Clare? she asked herself. But the answer seemed obvious. It's those big boobs she's always flaunting, Martina sneered, wishing again she was more than a B-cup. Isn't that what every guy wants? Why should Ivan Ingersoll be any different?

On that unhappy thought, the young woman finally dropped off to sleep.

The next morning while John was getting Kyle ready for school, Martina stood before her mirror and took stock. I may not be a big-breasted bimbo, but I've got plenty going for me. For one thing, she thought, she was taller than Clare, and her long legs were definitely shapelier. Moreover, they descended from a well-rounded butt that had always drawn masculine attention. It's not as though I'm a dog, she thought defiantly.

Getting dressed, she glanced down at the sensible shoes she was about to slip on and hesitated. Those aren't doing my legs or my ass any favors, she decided. Returning to her closet, she pulled out a pair of moderate-heeled pumps. I can't go from mary janes to stilettos overnight, or people will notice. But I can start moving in the right direction.

Happy with the added definition the higher heels gave her calves, she turned to her make-up mirror. As she started to pull her hair back into the businesslike bun she normally wore, she caught herself. I don't want to look businesslike; I want to look sexy. Quickly she brushed out her dark brunette tresses until they flowed over her shoulders like bittersweet chocolate. I can go back to the "old maid" hair when I'm eighty.

Looking at herself from this new perspective, Martina began to think about other changes she could make. But as she evaluated herself in the mirror, she decided to slow down. That's enough for Day 1 -- I don't want to go overboard.

It didn't occur to her to consider what the next steps might be or to ask herself where they were leading.

When she went to the kitchen to grab a quick cup of coffee, John noticed the change in her appearance. "Hey, you're wearing your hair down, Babe. It looks good on you."

She thanked him for the compliment, pleased that the changes she'd made were noticeable. But the fact that her husband had picked up on her new look set off a mental alarm. She chided herself. See, you need to go slow, girl. You can't make too many changes too quickly, or John will start asking awkward questions.

Over the next few weeks, Martina continued her transformation with slow, subtle changes. She gradually increased the amount of make-up she was wearing, giving more detail to her eyes, emphasizing her cheekbones with blush, and using a darker shade of lipstick. On a visit to the mall, she invested in several underwire and push-up bras. I may not be able to match you in the tits department, Clare, but I can make what I've got stand out more.

To draw more attention to her legs, she continued to increase the height of the heels she wore. She also began wearing darker hosiery, sometimes with subtle patterns Simultaneously, she began shortening her skirts by rolling them at the waist. Pants suits virtually disappeared from her wardrobe, to be replaced by wrap dresses and slit skits that offered teasing glimpses of her thighs.

While her make-over proceeded, Martina began making more effort to catch Ivan Ingersoll's notice. In staff meetings she kept her attention focused on her boss, regardless of who was speaking. Any time he glanced in her direction, she would cross her legs, hoping he'd look. On her way to lunch or when she was leaving for the day, she made a point of passing by his office. And any time she met with him one-on-one, she made sure to sit with her chest out and her legs exposed so that he had a good view of her slit skirts.

Yet as the weeks went by, Martina grew frustrated. If "Operation Ivan" was having any effect on her boss, she couldn't see it. He was all business, all the time. But others definitely noticed.

Martina had just finished checking her make-up in the restroom mirror when an obviously angry Clare Garrison stormed in. "What the hell do you think you're doing, Martina?" she hissed.

Martina stared at her coolly. "I haven't got a clue what you're talking about."

"Don't play games with me. I've seen the way you're dressing and the way you act around Ivan. You need to back off. He's mine, and I'm not letting him get away."

Martina looked at the irate woman blandly. "Then you don't have anything to worry about, so get out of my face."

For one moment it looked as though Clare might physically attack her, but the sound of someone else coming through the outer door of the ladies' room stopped her. Clare glowered at her former friend, then turned and stalked out. Martina calmly turned back to the mirror to give her appearance one more check before leaving, a faint smile on her lips.

Two weeks later, during a staff meeting, Ivan made an announcement that caught both women off guard. "We've just gotten an opportunity to make a pitch next week to a potential client in Chicago. I'll be flying up on Monday; Martina, I want you to come and assist. You can get all the travel details from my secretary."

Martina was caught off guard but managed not to react. Clare, however, was not so subtle. "But Ivan, I'm the one who usually makes those sales call with you," she burst out.

"That's right," he responded, "but I think it's important that other team members get to observe and contribute. Martina has done well on the analytical side; it's time she was exposed to marketing." He looked sharply at Clare. "Cross-training is very important in an organization like ours, wouldn't you agree, Clare?"

She nodded sullenly, unwilling to look at her boss or her rival.

Martina walked back to her cubicle on a cloud. It's happening! God, I didn't think he'd noticed me, but he obviously did. I guess you're not the only one who can melt the ice-man, Clare.

A minute later, however, her insecurities came roaring back. What if I'm reading too much into this? What if this is nothing more than what Ivan said, a chance for a little cross-training? And when we're in Chicago, how should I act around him? What do I say?

All that weekend, excitement and anxiety warred within her, until even John noticed. When he asked Martina about it, she freely confessed that she was nervous about the upcoming trip, though she said nothing beyond the obvious. "It's my first time one-on-one with him for any length of time. I don't know how to act."

"You'll be great, babe," John said, trying to be supportive. "You're smart and insightful, and you know your stuff. I've got every confidence in you. Remember: Ivan wouldn't have asked you if he wasn't confident in you as well. Just follow your instincts and you'll do fine."

After she'd hugged him for his reassurances, she went off to the bedroom to start packing. As she looked at her things, she came to a decision. Ivan wants me to be myself or he wouldn't have asked me. And he wants me to look like what he's been seeing in the office lately, not the old me. So new Martina is what he's going to get.

With her decision made, she began filling her bag with her new wardrobe, from innerwear to outerwear to the highest heels she owned. She even included some intimate apparel that John had never seen. What do they say: go big or go home? Well, this girl is going to go big.

On Monday right after lunch, Ivan and Martina flew out of Hartsville for the Windy City. Even though the flight to O'Hare took under two hours, Ivan was a fanatic about having plenty of time for preparation. Consequently, the two of them were safely checked in to lake-view rooms at The Peninsula by late afternoon. During the cab ride, Ivan told Martina he'd already made dinner reservations for the two of them.

The prospect of an intimate dinner for two with Ivan thrilled her. With plenty of time to get ready, she spent extra time with her hair and make-up. Once she was satisfied, she pulled out her most form-fitting dress and highest heels to wear for the evening. When he came down to the lobby to meet her, she was already waiting, carefully positioned in front of a backdrop of tropical plants.

The restaurant he chose in the Loop was both romantic and expensive. But to Martina's dismay, Ivan limited their dinner conversation strictly to work-related topics. Once again her doubts flared. Have I misread this whole situation? Maybe to Ivan this is just another business trip, nothing more.

As they rode up the elevator back at the hotel after dinner, her boss surprised her again. "If you want to go over anything else tonight, give me an hour to check my email, then come to my room. I'll leave my door open for you."

Once in her room, Martina was again wracked by uncertainty. What do I do now? Does he want me to bring my laptop to go over the presentation again? Does he want some one-on-one time with me? I can't not show up. What does he really want?

She slipped off the elegant dress she'd worn to dinner and started to pull on the one casual outfit she'd brought along. Suddenly, she remembered Clare threatening her in the restroom. She'd love it if I chicken out now. she thought, and her resolve strengthened. "Go big or go home," she admonished her reflection in the mirror.

Quickly she stripped naked, then went to the bathroom mirror. There she re-applied her make-up and carefully dabbed herself with perfume in strategic locations. Satisfied, she went to her suitcase and extracted the negligee she'd bought just for this trip. When she slipped it on, it hung by spaghetti straps from her shoulders and reached down to her ankles. The silky fabric was solid black, but it was so sheer that it encompassed her figure like smoke. If this doesn't get a rise out of him, I don't know what will.

Checking the time, she was startled to see that an hour had almost elapsed. She pulled on the terrycloth bathrobe supplied by the hotel so she wouldn't have to walk down the hallway almost nude. As a final touch, she slipped her stilettos back on. Then she hurried to Ivan's room. Outside his door, she took a deep breath, knocked and entered.

Pulling the door closed behind her, she turned to see her boss sitting on the edge of the bed. He too was wearing a hotel robe. He watched her entrance silently.

Her heart pounded in her chest. Go big she repeated to herself one last time, and let the robe slide off her shoulders, revealing her body enshrouded by the wispy negligee. Now it was up to him.

He stared at her intently, then beckoned her to him with a hand. When she stood in front of him, he spread his knees apart, revealing that he was naked under the robe. His cock, she saw, was already growing. A thrill of triumph shot through her. He wants this -- he wants me! He's been waiting for me to make the first move.

Looking into her eyes, he gave a downward nod of his head, and she knew instantly what he required. Dropping to her knees before him, she reached for his cock with her fingers and then her lips. A shudder ran through her at the first taste of his hot tumescence. God, I've never been more aroused in my life!

The next instant she began to worship, alternating between licking up and down his cock, then engulfing as much of him as she could take in her hungry mouth. He was no larger than John, and that gave her confidence she could satisfy him. With an urgency born of the desire that had been building in her for weeks, she lavished her attention on his now fully erect cock.

She had lost herself in serving him, so she was startled to feel his hands reach under her armpits. Before she could worry that she'd done something wrong, he lifted her up and then lay back on the bed, pulling her on top of him. "Fuck me!" he commanded in a commanding voice. Rejoicing to obey, she scrambled forward so she was straddling his hips. With fingers made clumsy by her arousal, she fumbled with the hem of her negligee. Finally she pulled the gauzy fabric out of the way, exposing her bare pussy to his cock. When she sensed that her body was where she needed it to be, Martina hastily fitted his shaft at the entrance to her engorged lips. There was no need for lubrication; her body had been preparing itself for this from the moment she walked into his room. Now, as she impaled herself, he slid easily into her, reaching all the way to her cervix in a single stroke. She gasped at the exquisite feeling of fullness, then began to rock back and forth, rubbing the base of his cock against her clitoris and sending waves of pleasure through her.

Closing her eyes, she felt a surge of emotions. There was relief to learn he'd wanted her all along, mixed with pride that her slow seduction had won him over. She of all the women in the office had earned the attention of the ultimate bad boy. At that moment she wished that Clare could see her and know Martina's triumph. Don't play games you can't win, Bitch! she exulted.

But most of all she felt animal lust. Without conscious volition, her hips began to pump up and down, causing the head of his cock to rub across her g-spot and the shaft to stimulate her clitoris. The sensations built until they were almost more than she could bear. When, in the midst of her passion, Ivan suddenly reached up and squeezed both her nipples hard, she screamed as her body spasmed in the strongest orgasm she'd ever experienced. Her contractions must have set him off too, because he exploded into his own climax as her body quivered on top of him. Then she slumped down on his chest, panting in physical and emotional exhaustion.

John Meadows