An Unlikely Office Virgin

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Zipping up and buckling his belt, Chad Brown scratched his balding bullet-shaped head, composing a directive in his mind as he turned to his computer to email the 223 people on the payroll of Brown Advertising International Ltd.

“Everything’s shipshape,” announced his personal assistant as she put away her comb and sprayed air-freshener before walking to her adjoining office. Chad grunted, “Nice one – thanks.”

Usually memos from the executive floor are ignored but not this one. Coming from the boss it was widely read and generally summed as: Touch my daughter’s panties and you’ll mess with me, asshole.

Actually in its entirety it read:

‘NOTICE: My daughter Adelaide starts here Monday as my personal assistant’s PA. Although I seek no special favors for Adelaide, let me make this perfectly clear: Any guy or gay woman who so much as lays a finger on her gets his/her head re-arranged plus two broken femurs and tossed out the third-level windows for a minor offence or from the roof-top for a major offence. I am insured against claims by aggrieved relatives of the deceased. – C.M.J. Brown, chairman.’

Everyone knew what to expect from Adelaide whose full-length-plus photo opened as the door to Chad’s office. She’d been directing across media campaigns for the ‘Come to Britain campaigns for the national tourism council. The boss’s daughter appeared to have the body of a Hollywood hooker, a smile as wide as Broadway and reputedly possesses the ball-breaking toughness of her father whose ‘Brown Ads’ was a trademark known and respected internationally.

Adelaide arrived late for work on Monday dressed down – sneakers, yellow jeans and a strapless top. Daddy sent her home to change into something more appropriate for the Chairman’s PA’s PA.

“Isn’t she gorgeous,” sighed the senior administrator.

“How could Bullet Head sire something as heavenly as that?” commented Eve the director of marketing.

Emails about what Adelaide had worn to the office and then being sent home to dress more appropriately flew around this office, making everyone smile: most daughters with a touch of minx love giving the impression they regard their father as an asshole.

The next global email was read with delight, rocking the building with laughter: Adelaide had returned to her father’s department wearing a long black diamante gown and a tiara. No-one went near the chairman for the next hour; the exasperated thudding into his heavy wood desk of his bullet shaped head was enough to scare everyone to the restrooms.

Later that day two dandies from Creative – Timmy in lime green slacks, purple shirt, red tie and white and red diamond waist coat and Ralphie wearing a tightly belted ankle length white leather coat and apparently nothing else – were sitting on either side of Adelaide’s desk and extracting bell-like peels of laughter from her while peering down the front of her dress when behind them came the sound of someone cracking his knuckles. Both dandies turned, had an instant facial color change and fled the building, reporting in sick.

“That kid should be banned from working here,” said the art director; his assistant asked why. “Because someone will fuck with her and Bullet Head will kill him, that’s why.”

Little was seen of Adelaide. Her work confined her to her office, she ate lunch in her father’s office whether he was in or out, and his chauffeur delivered her to the executive floor elevator and collected her each day. In effect she did not exist except for those working on the executive floor or migrating there on business or to be bawled out.

Because of this extraordinary coddling, Adelaide attained rare status in this building – office virgin. Escort Bayan Gaziantep Most if not all personnel were having it off with a colleague or two or perhaps more. The practice was endemic, taking hold slowly on Mondays after the hard weekend and rising to a peak on Fridays; Friday afternoon was known as Bang Afternoon, with not much work being done. This climax at the end of the week meant even the chairman’s PA didn’t get any work done on Friday afternoon apart from clearing his desk and then returning everything to its proper place after they had finished.

Adelaide, alas, spent Bang Afternoon attending to her finger-nails.

Gradually Adelaide lost her glow. Executive floor women wondered if the bangs were also missing in Adelaide’s outside life; everyone knows women need a bang or two a week to maintain that healthy appearance.

Then along came Samuel Butler – handsome, cool dresser with a short string of academic qualifications including an MBA. His position was newly created: Strategist. A strategist of what no-one was sure.

An email from the social club went to every female in the office – ‘$100 bucks will be paid to the first woman who bangs SamBut and finds out Strategist of what? – Mavis.’

An hour later females became upset when learning from an email leak that SamBut (as he became known behind his back) had been allocated Adelaide as his PA for two hours a day. The emails flew and the verdict was Adelaide would have an unfair advantage in banging SamBut. Volunteers were called to join Mavis in a deputation to complain to Chad; Mavis chickened out when no-one stepped forth to join her.

* * *

Sam noticed Adelaide the first time he stepped onto X-Floor which is short for executive floor, in fact remembering it well: the blood nose he received when walking into a pillar while attempting from the distance to ascertain the configuration of her upper torso (i.e., looking at her tits) had him being raced to the first-aid room; almost as bad, it was the end of his favorite Mr Cool shirt by Tommy.

A week would pass before he’d see Adelaide again because that day she left on a four-day executive training course held 200 miles away and conducted by the Union of Likeminded Churchwomen. The main item of study was ‘The 100 Top Ways to Eradicate Office Promiscuity’. Due to that particularly intense study topic and no males being permitted at the live-in course, Adelaide returned home in tears, ending a depressing working week. She called four ex-favorites from college but each one of those guys confessed his wife wouldn’t allow him to go out, at least not someone possessing Adelaide’s attributes.

Depressed even deeper, Adelaide spent most of Saturday assisting her mom re-pot plants and cross-pollinating flowers with cotton buds and on Sunday she joined her father at his request to watch mindless (to Adelaide) car racing; she also were required to play poker with Chad.

Adelaide arrived at her desk on Monday thinking; perhaps she should resign and volunteer to wash dishes in a Convent. Her phone interrupted that line of thought.

“Hello my princess – come to my office now.”

Adelaide found the dummy who had walked into a pillar on his first day at the office was also there. She gave him the once over, noticing immediately his body was A-type – A-type diminutive actually. His looks were good enough for a girl to take home for her mom to approve as a steady dater and he dressed much too good for this workplace so she gave him the Big Tick and smiled warmly, provoking him to scramble to his feet.

“Sit down Sam, it’s only my daughter,” Chad growled.

Ten minutes later Adelaide was in Sam’s office, being briefed about Sam’s duties in the new role of company strategist which he found difficult to explain. So they went out to lunch in the hope that some wine would ease transcribing jargon into something even half comprehensible to Adelaide.

It was a forgettable lunch and Sam and Adelaide returned to the office at 3:00, both pie-eyed, watched by Chad through narrow eyes. But he relaxed when finding they weren’t touching; nor were they chastised for taking a three-hour lunch – Chad only had a thing about guys having a three-hour lunch break kicking tires in new vehicle showrooms or women takng such a long break to go shopping.

Sam and Adelaide disappeared into Sam’s office which resulted in Chad’s PA complaining: “Darling, Sam’s had my PA much longer than two hours and this is only Day One.”

“Well, Anastasia, they’re young kids attempting to find common ground. I kind of like seeing them together. But you keep an eye on them, do you hear? Phone building security and get closed-circuit TV installed with monitors on your desk and mine and miniature cameras secreted in Sam’s office. Remember, I’m paying you two hundred a week to be her chaperone in this building.”

Behind the closed door in Sam’s office, Adelaide asked casually, heart thumping: “What are you doing this weekend?”

Nicely stewing in alcohol, Sam acted cool: “Anyone and everyone I can.”

“What, you mean seduction?”

“It’s how strategists’ think, Adelaide.”

She clamped her thighs and sighed. “Care to drop around Saturday for lunch so mom can look you over?”

“Er, what about Chad?”

“Fuck him, he’s only my father.”


Standing up to leave, swaying noticeably, Adelaide told Sam he’d been very verbose and complicating in describing his role with the company to her, but at last he’d made the breakthrough. “All what you said reduces down to the simple explanation that you have to think up stuff daddy hasn’t thought of.”

Sam’s mouth gaped: “Adelaide, that’s brilliant. I was thinking about hiring two consultants to assist me to work out my job description. You’ve saved this company several thousands of dollars just with the outlay of a light meal and four glasses of wine. You’re definietly not only just a beautiful face on a great body.”

Adelaide’s face slowly turned pink. “What a lovely thing to say to me. Stow an overnight bag in your car Saturday, Sambut. You may get lucky.”


“It’s what you’re called around here. I don’t think it implies you do butt?”

Sam’s face turned crimson.

On Friday afternoon when Sam heard the banging in Bullet Head’s office he went to his door and looked across to Adelaide; he thought she looked ever so lonely hunched there, filing her nails. Head down he returned to his desk and strummed his fingers, feeling ashamed he lacked the courage to ask Adelaide into his office to bang her.

* * *

Adelaide presented Sam to her mother for inspection. Amanda took one look at him and said, “Please always use condoms, Sam. Go with Adelaide to the pool and I’ll fetch you two cookies and wine.”

At the pool Sam was nervous and kept looking around.


“Where’s Bullet Head…er…your father?”

“In the bedroom up there. He’s studying you and in his hand will be either his cross-bow or his elephant gun.”

“I should go.”

“You are staying here Sam. Anyways I was teasing – daddy’s at golf. Come for a swim.”

“I don’t have my swimsuit.”

Adelaide smiled. “What a coincidence, neither do I.”

With that she stepped out of the piece of material folded around her curves and stood, a little breathless and overly pink in front of Sam, nude and not a single hair in sight below her blonde curls bordering green eyes that mocked him while her wide mouth was formed into optimum kissing mode.

“Come on, let me see what you’ve got.”

“Er, you take to the water and I’ll follow.”

“Okay,” Adelaide said agreeably and dove in.

Sam ripped off his top and shorts and dove in, forgetting to remove his sneakers.

“What’s he got?” Amanda asked, arriving poolside with the cookies and bottle of wine and glasses.

“More than a handful,” Adelaide said without embarrassment, holding more than a handful.

“Good, then get some of it. Bullet Head won’t be home for at least one and a half hours,” Amanda said. “Bye guys, I’m off to the supermarket.”

Sam was agog. “Your mom calls him Bullet Head.”

“Yes, but only behind his back although she’s not afraid of him,” Adelaide said giving the dick in her hand an encouraging squeeze. “It’s the other way round, actually. When they were going steady she caught him in bed with her best friend, now her former best friend. She told me that Bullet Head awoke next morning to feel cold steel on his nuts – she’d kept the knife in the freezer overnight. He looked down at the knife in her hand he heard her say if he ever messed her around again he’d know what to expect. My daddy-to-be fainted.”


“Come on, let’s do it on their bed – it’s the last place daddy would think of looking. Sam, you’re turning white, please don’t faint in the pool!”

Sam walked up to the bedroom like a condemned man being led to the guillotine.

But when Adelaide, still dripping from the pool, threw herself on to the bed and opened her lips wide and said, “What do you think of my pinkie?” Sam was saved; lust took over.

“That’s much better, Adelaide giggled, now confronted by a real erection. I’m really looking forward to this.”

“I don’t have a condom with me.”

“It doesn’t matter. I came off the pill a month ago. Impregnate me and daddy will have to let you marry me.”

“Just who is the strategist?”

“You, silly,” Adelaide laughed. “You can bite my nipples but not the white skin – I really don’t wish to be marked. I’ve not done this for a couple of months so would like you to administer long, slow strokes, giving me every inch you’ve got.”

Her eyes widened. “Towards the end I’ll put my legs over your shoulders; that will lift my ass a little, tilting me in the right direction to encourage maximum sperm flow. I’ll work my clit to try to time our ejaculations, leaving you with nothing more to do but grind, pant and fire. Then play with my tits while maintaining that position post-ejaculation for a couple of minutes. I’ll talk to you later about baby names and where we’ll live after you’ve explored and used my body to your satisfaction. You like me enough to marry me, don’t you?”

“Yes Adelaide, I sincerely do, Sam said exactly what he’d been thinking. “I now realize it was no coincidence that I was head-hunted to join your father’s think-tank at Brown-Ads, that he’s out playing golf and your mother had to go to the supermarket. You are a professional strategist, aren’t you darling?”

“Oh my clever boy,” she cooed, pulling Sam’s head between her legs.

Adelaide knew of course Sam was wide of the mark in his thinking. She’d come home from London to find a husband and Sam seemed to be the best prospect available what with daddy riding shotgun on her. She’d just used common sense to nail Sam.

Men always have to find a logical explanation to everything – women find that need for logic to put all the pieces together both unremarkable and unnecessary. She simply wished to marry a charming man with a good brain and good prospects.

Adelaide sighed, hoping a sperm had met an egg; this day was the peak of her reproductive cycle.


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