Out on the dance floor, me and the blonde began to move. The way her hips swayed and her tits bounced, and I knew she’d be satisfying in bed, and yet at the same time something felt all wrong. I wondered if maybe she felt the distance between us, or that I wasn't feeling it between us, because she stepped up to me, her hands on my shoulder, her pelvis grinding into my dick.
I looked down towards my groin, wondering what the hell was wrong with it as it sat quiet and soft in my boxer briefs. For the last couple of days, it had a mind of its own, always going hard when I saw Natalie.
In that moment, the image of Natalie popped into my head and sure enough, my dick began to swell. God dammit.
My new blonde friend leaned forward, her perfume wafting over me, the warmth of her breath against my cheek, as she whispered in my ear. "What do you say we get out of this place? We can have a private dance."
That's why I was here. I put my hand around her and escorted her out the front door onto the sidewalk. The cool air hit me, and I stopped again as that unsettled feeling flowed through me.
She plastered her body against mine, her hand caressing my chest. "Something wrong?"
I looked down at her for a moment. I reminded myself of my goal tonight; get laid. But as I looked at her, this beautiful sexy woman, my dick began to deflate again.
Apparently, she thought I wanted to kiss her as she puckered her lips and wrapped her arms around my shoulders. It felt like I had ants under my skin and I quickly disentangled myself.
"I'm sorry.…" I didn't know what else to say at that point, so I simply turned and began walking down the street. It was an asshole thing to do to just leave her standing there like that, but I had to get away.
My loft wasn't far from here, so I walked home trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with me so that I could go back to being the man I'd been before. Before what, though, I didn't know.
Liar, something deep in my psyche said. But I didn’t want to listen to it.
I made it up to my loft, stripped my clothes, and climbed into bed.
Natalie.
What the
hell kind a hold did she have on me that I couldn't get it up for that sexy blonde who wanted to fuck my brains out. I lifted the sheet and looked down at my dick.
"What the hell's wrong with you? Why do you only want to work for Natalie?"
The mention of her name had the image of her filling my brain. The taste of her came back to my lips. My dick filled until it was extending out over my belly.
"You're fucking crazy you know that?” I said to my dick feeling like I had no choice. I wrapped my hand around it and began to stroke. Because I couldn't stand the idea that Natalie had such a hold on me, I forced my brain to think about the woman in the club. The way her hips swayed and her breasts bounced as we danced. The scent of her perfume as it washed over me and the way her body pressed against mine.
My dick however wasn't having any of that. Almost immediately he began to soften. I should've considered that a victory and released him and gone to sleep. But the need to have an orgasm overrode that. And apparently my dick had a direct line to my brain as the image of Natalie reappeared. She had her sexy smirk on and nothing else. She dropped to her knees, her hands sliding up my thighs. My dick extended even longer liking that image. My hand began to stroke faster as the image of her cupid bow lips wrapped around my dick filled my brain. Her hot sexy feisty mouth slurped and sucked until I shot my load all over my chest.
As enjoyable as that was, the aftermath left me with a feeling of disgust. What was wrong with me that this woman had gotten under my skin or at the very least to my dick. I had a wave of panic that filled me as I realized that this could be a situation that lasted for a long time. After all, she was working for me now. Was I going to have to go the next six months without the ability to get it up with another woman? Spending my nights wanking off like some loser?
There had to be another solution to this problem. As I lay in bed, wiping my cum off my chest with a tissue, I weighed my various options. In the end, there was only one that could possibly work.
8
Natalie
I spent the first day of my new job getting to know the people I was going to be working the most closely with. What I discovered was a group of artists and wordsmiths who were nice enough, and some of them were extremely talented and creative, but for the most part seemed to live within the lines. Being a person who liked to color outside the lines, I was a little disappointed that so many people just wanted to maintain the status quo, and at the same time I wasn't surprised. They were exactly the type of people I figured Hunter would hire to create the type of work he seemed to think was selling his sandals.
I also spent time reviewing some of their older ad campaigns. The truth was, some of them were actually pretty good. The problem with the European one was that I didn't think it would do very well in Europe. Granted, I wasn't the marketing wizard that Hunter apparently was, but still Europe was a hotspot for art, and they would know something that was contrite. The one thing that art and marketing had in common was the desire to evoke emotion. Where marketing diverged from art was in having that emotion, then evoke a response: buy. The campaign as it was set up now, I couldn't imagine anybody looking at it and thinking they would want to buy a pair of sandals made by Strong Incorporated.
Over the evening, I decided maybe since I wasn’t really a marketing person by trade, who was I to say that a billion-dollar company was doing something wrong? So, the next day, armed with everything I had gleaned from the day before, I arrived eager to get to work. My intention was to do as much as I could to stay within the constraints that Hunter had given me. He was the expert and even if he wasn’t, he was the boss. But as I went over the campaign, I couldn't get past how staid and trite the art was. I couldn’t help myself and I began to make my own sketches. They didn't look anything like what he had been doing, and I was pretty sure that if he saw them, he’d fire me.
At lunch, I went with Gavin to the employee lounge area. Everyone in the department was nice and helpful, but I could tell that they looked to Gavin for leadership, particularly after their former art director had left. So, I knew he'd be the best resource to talk to about my dilemma. As we sat across the table, I hoped that in talking with him I didn’t encourage what looked to be an attraction to me. He was friendly and helpful, but also, I’d caught him staring at me a couple of times in a way that suggested that he was interested in more than being my coworker. He was nice enough and good-looking, but I just didn't feel it towards him.
"These ideas on the European campaign, where did they come from?" I asked Gavin as I opened up the leftover take-out I had brought from home for lunch.
"I think the overall concept came from upstairs and was given to Liz and then we all worked on it together."
"So, all the Strong brothers; this is what they want?"