Steam Heat - Craig Robertson - ebook

How Cynthia climbed the corporate ladder, starting from her knees.

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Table of Contents
Steam Heat

Steam Heat

Craig Robertson

This page copyright © 2009 Olympia Press.


The bus came to a clunking halt and Cynthia jumped on before the driver had a chance to change his mind. Paying her fare she stumbled to the back and sat down.

Cynthia always rather enjoyed the bus ride into work in the morning because it gave her time to wake up and adjust to the idea of another day at the office. Heaven knows she needed the time just to wake up.

She'd only been working for the law firm of Willers & Davies' for three months but it was already beginning to be a bore. Being a secretary wasn't the most exciting job in the world, she had to admit.

Today, of course, would be different. Today she was being moved out of the secretarial pool and into Mr. Jasson's office as his private secretary.

Luckily for her Mr. Jasson's secretary quit and he had chosen her as a replacement. Cynthia still wasn't sure why she was chosen but it meant more money and she was glad to get out of that secretarial pool.

Cynthia figured that she wasn't doing too bad, considering that she'd only been out of college for a year now. She had a nice apartment and a good job.

Looking at the tall city buildings through the dusty bus windows, Cynthia patted down her short black hair to make sure it stayed in place. She wanted to look extra good on the day of her promotion.

She had to admit that she did look good. The pretty mini-dress that she had on showed off her luscious endowments most advantageously.

The bus came to a grating halt in front of the conservative offices of Willers & Davies and Cynthia got off. Looking at her watch she noticed that she would be right on time—she smiled to herself.

Making her way to Mr. Jasson's office she checked her reflection in the glass. She entered the office door just as the clock struck the hour.

Her desk in the anteroom was spacious and it had a new typewriter on it. She sat down and no more than three minutes had passed when Mr. J as son buzzed her.

“Miss Peters?”

“Yes, Mr. Jasson?”

“Good.” He said, “I like promptness. Why don't you step into my office and I'll acquaint you with your duties.”

Grabbing her steno-tablet Cynthia went into Mr. Jasson's office. Shutting the door behind her she found herself in a huge plush room with soft lights and wall to wall carpeting all over.

“Sit down, Miss Peters.” Across the broad expanse of desktop he motioned to a chair directly in front of the desk.

Cynthia sat down and crossed her pretty legs. “Yes, sir?”

“Well..,” he eyed her lecherously, “Do you know why I chose you for this job?”

“No,” she replied.

Mr. Jasson twirled a pencil in his fingers.

“Well, you looked like the kind of girl who wanted to get ahead in this business.”

“I do.” Cynthia smiled at him.

“Good, but it won't be easy.” He cautioned.

Shrugging, Cynthia said, “I don't mind. I'm really grateful you gave me this chance.”

Mr. Jasson got up and came around the desk. He stood facing her leaning against the front of the desk.

“Would you like a chance to show this gratitude?” He asked her.

“Oh, yes sir.” Cynthia said, “How?”

He began to unbuckle his belt. “By getting on your knees and thanking me.”

Cynthia hesitated for a moment and he said, “You want to get ahead don't you?” She nodded as his pants dropped to the floor, he wasn't wearing any underwear. “Then start thanking me.”

Obediently she got down on her knees and timidly kissed his throbbing prick.

“Com'on, suck it out.” He ordered.

Hesitantly she closed her lips around the bulbous head of his cock and began sucking it rhythmically. With one hand she began squeezing his tight balls.

Cynthia felt her self grow excited as she sucked and sucked all the harder. Small beads of perspiration began to form on her brow.

With her free hand she stroked his hairy thighs and felt her own thighs moisten with desire. In her mouth his prick throbbed and pulsed.

Suddenly his muscles stiffened and Cynthia was choking down a great ocean of spew....


Cynthia sat back down at her desk and wiped off her mouth with a handkerchief. Sighing, she sat down and typed out a letter that was on her desk.

At least now she knew why she had gotten the sudden promotion. She didn't really mind all that much and the pay was worth it.

Cynthia lived alone in an expensive apartment downtown but she could always use the extra money. For one thing she could buy car.

In the last few months she'd been too busy to pay much attention to men. As a result she was pretty horny and found that she had enjoyed her little encounter with Mr. Jasson in his plush office.

Irritably she corrected a mistake she'd just made and readjusted the carriage of the typewriter. Cynthia sighed and got back to work.

If nothing else she was a damn good typist. However, she would be the first to say that her shorthand wasn't all that it could be.

“Hey, Cynthia!” a voice drew her attention to the door—it was Millie, one of the girls she knew from the secretarial pool.

“Yeah?” Cynthia said, “What are you doing up here?”

Millie stepped in and looked around the anteroom. She was a tall blonde with beautiful legs and sparkling green eyes.

“Coffee break.” Millie said by way of explanation. “I though I'd drop up and see how you were doing.”

Cynthia grinned. “Fine, just dandy as a matter of fact.”

Sitting down on Cynthia's desk, Millie said, “What's he like?”

“Mr. Jasson?”

“Sure, who else would I be talking about.” Millie lit a cigarette.

“Oh...” Cynthia shrugged, “Nice enough.”

“Is he good-lookin'?”


Millie chewed on that for a while and then said, “Well, I wanted to tell you that Sybil is having a party tonight and you're invited— it's gonna be a bash.”

Cynthia frowned for a moment. “Sybil?”

“Yeah—you know, the redhead?”

Cynthia smiled, “Oh, sure—Sybil.”

“So are you gonna come?”

“I can't see why not.” Cynthia said.

Millie gave the place and the time and then left, saying that she had to run because she was still a hard working girl. Cynthia grinned as she left and turned back to her own work.

About ten minutes later Mr. Jasson received a client. A big burly man stepped into the office and gave Cynthia a big burly smile.

He informed her that he was Carl Dennison and that he was there to see Mr. Jasson. After informing Mr. Jasson of Mr. Dennison's presence, Cynthia showed him in.

Sitting back down at her desk, Cynthia began to start on another letter. She got just about three words typed when Mr. Jasson buzzed her to come in.

Snatching up her steno-tablet she went in. Mr. Dennison was sitting on the couch smoking a cigar and talking to Jasson at the desk.

“Ah, Miss Peters,” said Jasson, looking up as she entered, “I have to leave for a few moments and Mr. Dennison would like to get down the facts of the legal brief I'm preparing for him so take down what he tells you.”

With that Jasson walked out and shut the door behind him. Cynthia turned to Dennison.

“Siddown!” he boomed, patting the couch next to him, “Jasson said you were a hard working gal.”

Cynthia sat and said, “Oh, when I have to.”

He laid one meaty hand on her nyloned knee. “Do you play as hard as you work?”

“If I want to.” Cynthia said as his hand slid up and under her dress. “Sometimes I like to combine business and—ah—pleasure.”

Dennison stroked her crotch and said, “I'm really a very influential man with this firm.”

Spreading her legs slightly, Cynthia said, “They listen to what you say, huh?”

With his free hand, Dennison began to unbutton her dress. “You bet they do, they know if they keep me happy I'll give them lots of business.”

Her dress fell open and Cynthia said, “I'd like to get into Public Relations here.”

Dennison undid her bra and dropped it to the floor. His hand closed over one plump breast. “I think that'd be the perfect job for you.”

While Dennison sweated and tugged her panties down around her ankles Cynthia said, “You might mention that to Mr. Jasson.”

Dennison pushed her down on the couch and began to unbuckle his pants.

“I might,” he said.


Cynthia slipped on her shoes and checked herself for the last time in the mirror. Millie would be by in a few minutes to pick her up for the party and she wanted to look just right.

The doorbell rang and, grabbing her purse, she hurried to the door. It was Millie.

“Hey, kid, you look great.” Millie said, “Let's get going—Sybil said to be there early.”

They scuttled out to Millie's car and hopped in. It was only a short drive to Sybil's apartment and they got there in plenty of time.

A few other people were there when they arrived. Sybil met them at the door and introduced them around to the folks they didn't know.

They were handed drinks and more and more people began to arrive from out of the night. Most of them Cynthia had never met before but there were some people there she knew from the office.

The stereo was turned on and music began to blast through-out the rooms of the apartment. It was a rather big apartment and from the way people kept coming through the door, it looked as though the room would be needed.

Cynthia found herself immersed in a conversation with three young men in one corner of the living room. The one on her left was an advertising executive named Bill and was telling her something about a campy new presentation idea he had for selling suntan oil.

The man on Cynthia's right was a tall guy named Joe who kept trying to look down her dress. He didn't say much but just mostly agreed with whatever anyone else was saying. He had informed her earlier that he was some sort of engineer or something like that.

The other man talking to Cynthia was Sybil's neighbor from across the hall. He said his name was Tim and that he worked as a studio musician for one of the big recording studios in town.

Cynthia vainly tried to follow all the various lines of conversation that were being thrown at her, but to no avail. The party was in full swing now and it was hard to even hear the stereo.

Bill and Joe were talking to each other covertly for a few minutes and Tim had drifted away. They turned back to her and asked her if she wanted to go grab a bite to eat with them and come back afterwards.

Her senses addled by the noise, Cynthia said it sounded like a lovely idea and followed them out the door after first telling Millie that she'd be back in a while. They all went out and hopped into Bill's car.

Cynthia sat between the two men. “Well,” She asked, “Where we goin'?”

They started off and Bill answered, “I thought we might just drive for a while.”

Joe grinned, “Yeah, a drive in the country.”

“But I thought we were going to get something to eat.” Cynthia said.

“We are.” Bill said.

“On a country road?” Cynthia sounded doubtful.

“Sure.” Joe said, “A couple of nice juicy hot dogs. Just for you. Doesn't that sound good?”

Cynthia didn't answer for a moment. Bill turned the car off the main highway and onto an old road with few streetlamps and even fewer houses.

“Well...” Cynthia began and stopped when Bill turned into a small dirt road leading into a wooded area. A few moments later he stopped and shut off the engine.

“Shall we stretch our legs?” Bill asked her, opening his door.

Cynthia smiled nervously and climbed out while Joe got out on the other side. Bill leaned up against the fender of his car.

It was almost pitch black in the little clearing they were in and Cynthia looked about anxiously for some sign of civilization. The ground was covered with a thick heady mat of pine needles.

“Well..,” she said at length, turning to the two men, “here we are.”

Bill smiled, “So whip it out where we can see it—we haven't much time.”