Message-ID: <3106eli$9708181203@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: jandreams@aol.com (Jan Dreams) Subject: NEW TG: The Pixie's Promise (1/3) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-Id: <19970817235900.TAA13317@ladder01.news.aol.com> Hi Everybody, Those of you who've been around the newsgroups for a while may remember me. It's been a looooong time since I've posted anything. I never totally gave up my love of writing, but circumstances have kept me from completing anything enough for posting online. But I've finally gotten one little piece of fluff cobbled together. Hopefully some of you will enjoy it. I've always hated it when a story I was enjoying suddenly died, either through the author's loss of interest or loss of ISP, or pressures of life, or loss of computer, or... whatever. I have to say I really admire Vickie Tern, Tigger, and Waldo (and others, but those three come to mind most readily) for the self-control they display since they never seem to post serials or anything until it's **finished**. As I also admire Stephanie and Christopher Leeson and Alan Hassel and Eddie Glover (and others too numerous to mention without sounding like a bad imitation of an Oscar acceptance speech - PLEASE don't feel offended if you're an author and I didn't mention you!) for cracking down and finishing serial stories rather than leaving us hanging mid-plot. Which leads me to my own heinous sin - Class Project. Within the upcoming weeks I hope to have the time to pick up where I left off oh those many moons ago (18 months ago? More?!) To those who've written me concerning my previous stories, thanks, and to those who've asked if I ever intend to complete Class Project, I apologize that it's taken so long. And before I step down from my little soap box, I want to thank Nostrumo for the absolutely fabulous (hmmm, catchy title) job he's doing with the TGS talk list. Since the newsgroups are so inundated with spam this is one of the last refuges for those of us who like to read and write stories of this kind. As always, I welcome any and all comments, I try to answer all email so feel free to tell me what you think. As long as you're polite, of course -- flames will be ignored. Disclaimers seem silly, but necessary I suppose. This work is intended for adults only. This is a work of *fiction* and if you can't deal with that then get a life. The work is copyright 1997 to me, Janice Dreamer. Permission is granted to post, repost, and otherwise distribute electronically, but please don't try to make money off my efforts -- write your own instead. Enjoy! The Pixie's Promise by Janice Dreamer Jack Moore leaned back from his desk, stretched, and stood up to work the kinks out of cramped muscles. At 6'2" his head and shoulders easily rose above the partitions that formed the walls of his cubicle. He looked around the cavernous office filled with hundreds of similar cubes. He thought he was the only one in the building but he couldn't be sure. Although not a soul was visible from his office near the front windowed wall all the way to the bank of elevators at the back, there might be dozens of other cube dwellers hunched over their computers within a few feet of Jack, completely hidden in the maze of cubicles. Small noises might be the muted sound of keyboards being caressed by other late evening workers or nothing more than the ruffle of blinds stirred by the breeze from the air vents. Working long hours and weekends had become such a habit for Jack that he seldom questioned it any more. But recently at times like this, with the main lights dimmed and the office nearly silent, he was acutely aware of the oppressive dreariness of his office, his job, and his life. The sprawling 5 story office building was organized like those drawings of an evolutionary tree, with a multitude of lower creatures huddled down near the roots. The higher life forms seemed to instinctively seek altitude. The lower floors were all the same, a labyrinth of cramped cubicles filled with junior engineers and gofers. Jack's office on the third floor actually meant he was among the elite of the cube denizens. He was "management", albeit at the most junior level possible: a section leader on a project team. His position earned him a more spacious cube near the windows but he ruefully thought it wasn't much of a perk for being a "manager". The true upper management resided at the top where they had more room to grow. The next floor up from Jack's contained real offices instead of cubicles, except for a few open work stations for the secretaries. That was where the corporation's middle level managers worked, and everything from the light fixtures to the carpeting was better quality than down below. And the fifth floor, at the top of the building, was even better yet; it held large luxurious office suites for the senior management of the regional headquarters. At that level even the secretaries had private offices. Jack still had hopes that someday he might have an office on the fourth floor but he'd long since given up on any dream that he might ever make it to the fifth floor. He glanced at the clock: 9:30 at night and he was still in the office. Just a few loose ends to wind up and he'd call it a day, he promised himself. He had a report to present at the morning staff meeting and he prided himself on always coming through with whatever management expected of him. Mr. Reliable, that's Jack Moore. So what if he had to stay late to keep up with the workload. It wasn't as if he had anything to go home to, in any case. He knew he must be going through some kind of mid-life crisis. His wife had divorced him five years ago and he never got seriously involved with another woman since then. It wasn't that he was unattractive, women generally found him rather sexy - he had the same kind of rugged good looks as Harrison Ford. But he was disillusioned with women in general and had no desire to ever put himself in a situation where he would be vulnerable to be hurt by a woman again. Gradually he spent more and more of his energy in work. He wasn't overly happy as a junior level manager - section leader hardly qualified as management at all - but he thought if he worked hard and did a good job he'd be promoted to a more satisfying position. So his life had numbingly ground along with him spending 60 or more hours a week in the office and bringing work home on the weekends as well. His social life had slowly devolved until it became an event if he even spoke to a woman outside of the office. His sex life was an occasional masturbatory session late at night when he couldn't sleep. His 40th birthday was approaching rapidly and he'd almost unconsciously become resigned to spending the remainder of his years working doggedly away at a job that bored him, punctuated by solitary microwave dinners in front of the TV. And then Mary was transferred into the office. He sighed and settled back down at his desk to finish the report. He resumed cross-referencing data from the other section leaders on the Acme project. He paused when he came to the email from Mary with her estimates. His mind drifted to a favorite fantasy, as it almost always did whenever occupied by thoughts of Mary. He pictured her in her tailored business suit suddenly kneeling down in front of him. He imagined her confessing that she couldn't take the pressure of the corporate world. She'd strip naked and plead with him to take care of her, she'd do *anything* for him, all he had to do was command her. She was tired of pretending to be an executive, she only wanted to please him and for him to make love to her and make her feel like a girl ought to feel... Mary O'Connell was one of the new kids on the block. She had only recently transferred in from the Chicago office to work on the Acme project. Mary wasn't the only employee transferred on to the project but she was definitely the most noticeable. It was the biggest project ever undertaken by the company and many reputations and future careers were riding on its successful completion. So it was no surprise that every ambitious person in the company lobbied to be assigned to the project and a whole flock of new faces had appeared in this, the regional office responsible for coordinating the job. With the increased workload and extra pressure everyone associated with the project had naturally banded together to form a tight little office social clique. For the most part the people newly transferred to the project deferred to the "old timers" who'd worked in the regional office longer, but Mary had emerged as one of the social leaders of the project group. She was tall, just a bit less than six feet, very slender and graceful, willowy rather than buxom. Her most memorable feature was her great mop of flame red hair that cascaded down her back in rebellious waves and curls that no comb or brush could ever tame. She had the complexion to match, a visible testament to her Irish heritage. Milky pale skin was the canvas for a constellation of orange freckles that were sprinkled so liberally they nearly blended together to form a uniform whole. Her mouth was wide and sensuous, with dimples that appeared when she flashed one of her frequent smiles. Her blue eyes sparkled with amusement and glittered merrily as that smile spread across her face. She was, physically, Jack's idea of the perfect woman. Mentally, however, was an entirely different story. Most people took to Mary immediately. She seemed to have a quality of making everyone at ease with her winning smile and quick wit. But not Jack. Haughty was how Jack thought of her. Early on, Jack had made the mistake of letting her know he was interested in more than a business relationship. Since then, every encounter Jack had with Mary left him feeling stupid and clumsy and completely defeated. Her attitude toward him seemed to be one of detached amusement, as if his attempts to talk to her were a show being put on for her entertainment. Although others never seemed to notice, Jack thought she was derisive toward men in general and him in particular. She was always ready with a joke or witty comment no matter what he might say to her. Often her jokes seemed to have a biting edge to them, making him feel as though he personally had been put down smartly. But then she'd smile and giggle, or wink conspiratorially as if she were letting him in on the joke and there he'd be, feeling vaguely snubbed, but unable to respond without seeming an overly sensitive asshole. >From the start Mary and Jack had been thrown together. They were both section leaders on the Acme project. Mary was responsible for technical liaison with the Client's personnel and Jack was in charge of logistics for outside contractors. Nominally they were equals. But Mary was the brash young rising star, bright and efficient with fresh ideas and a growing reputation for working well with clients. She was a natural-born negotiator, always managing to maneuver the various factions in any situation into accepting her compromise solutions. Jack was almost exactly her opposite. Almost 15 years older, he was the tried and true workhorse, knowledgeable of the intricacies of company procedure and the realities of the business world. He had more experience with large scale projects than anyone else at the section leader level, and had worked with nearly everyone associated with the project at one time or another. His work was solid and he had a reputation for reliability unmatched in the company. But he was pushing 40 and had never been promoted above section leader. While there were no complaints about his work, he just never demonstrated the type of inspired brilliance that got noticed by upper management when it came time for promotions. So he'd watched in frustrated silence as people he'd trained got promoted over him until Mary arrived on the scene to wake him from his dull existence. Immediately Jack thought Mary was the sexiest woman he'd ever seen, even including magazine centerfolds. In Jack's opinion, the closest thing to physical perfection in a woman had been Angie Everhart, until he'd met Mary. She seemed to be even more beautiful than his imagination could dream up in masturbatory fantasies, and he was instantly stricken. Suddenly thoughts of work became secondary and he found himself thinking in terms of a social life for the first time in years. He did everything he could think of to get her to notice him but nothing seemed to work. At first she was friendly enough but she never picked up on any of the subtle overtures he made toward a more personal relationship. Finally he abandoned subtlety completely and asked her out directly, making no secret what he wanted from her, but she somehow managed to turn it into a proposal for an after-hours business meeting and invited the entire project team along. That was when Jack began to feel that she was mocking him every chance she got. Since that fiasco Jack was slowly going crazy from his pent-up desires and frustration. Part of his obsession with Mary was due to the new pattern their working relationship had assumed since their "date". She seemed to instinctively know his weak points and how best to unsettle him and maneuver things so she always managed to get her way. She manipulated him into agreeing with her even if he was determined at the outset that he was going to stand firm. It rankled him that he was such putty in her hands, but no matter what he did to resist her, the results were always the same, he'd end up allowing her just what she asked for even while amazed at himself for giving in to her. That was when he had first begun fantasizing about dominating her. Every time she scored a victory over him at work he'd imagine giving her a command to strip and service him. Lately these imaginary domination sessions had been growing ever more frequent. Aware of the dangers of sexual harassment, he publicly espoused the company's policies on equal opportunities for women but privately he thought a woman with Mary's looks had no business in corporate life. She should be a model, or a dancer, or even a secretary, but certainly not an executive. If there absolutely had to be women executives then let the dowdy Margaret Thatcher types do it. They were nearly indistinguishable from men anyway. But girls with Mary's looks and charm shouldn't be wasted pretending to be corporate managers, they should be doing the things they were better suited for physically. Unfortunately it was only in his fantasies that Mary performed the duties which Jack thought she was best suited for. A sudden shift in lighting coming from the monitor snapped him out of his dream world. He must have been woolgathering for a good five minutes in order for the screen saver to kick in. He guiltily realized he'd been stroking his erection through the material of his trousers. With an effort of will he moved his hands back to the keyboard and tried to concentrate on his work. He sighed. If he didn't get his daydreaming under control he'd be here all night trying to finish up. ***** When Jack got into the office the next morning there was a message to see Mr. Thornton immediately. Thornton was the regional vice president. As a section leader on the Acme project, Jack had attended several meetings which Thornton had presided over. The Acme contract accounted for 40% of the bookings and 70% of the profit margin for Thornton's region. He necessarily watched its progress most carefully. But Jack had very little direct contact with Thornton, he normally reported through his supervisor, Mr. Bruckner, the project manager. So it was with a bit of trepidation that Jack headed to the elevator to ride up to Thornton's top floor office. When she saw him coming, Thornton's secretary waved him toward the inner office before Jack said a word. "Go right in, Mr. Moore. Mr. Thornton will be with you shortly." Jack entered the richly furnished corner office. He automatically focused on the large mahogany desk and prepared to take a seat in one of the visitor's chairs in front of the massive desk. "Not a good move, Jack. Always pick your battlefield if given the option. If you want to negotiate on equal footing, avoid that desk. All the power is channeled to the person sitting behind the desk. You're nothing but a petitioner sitting over there." Startled, Jack turned and saw Mary seated on a sofa facing a floor to ceiling window giving a magnificent view of the city. She looked calm and self-assured. As if she was naturally in her element in these rarefied surroundings. Quite a contrast to Jack's self-conscious nervousness. She casually picked up a coffee cup from the low table before her and sipped, taking her time to allow him to drink in the sight of her relaxed poise, the entire time her eyes seemed to mock him over the rim of the cup. "Now over here," she continued while gesturing expansively at the comfortable furniture arranged to form an intimate conversational grouping. "We can have a discussion as equals." What the hell was Mary doing here? Jack was thrown off balance by her unexpected presence. It didn't help that she was obviously right about where to sit. She had him totally out-gunned in dealing with people, and Jack knew she knew it. She was just flaunting her superior tactics in the art of negotiation. Somewhat nonplused Jack moved over to where Mary was sitting. Mary took another sip of her coffee. She pointed towards a credenza. "Coffee's over there, Jack." Automatically Jack went to get himself a cup. When he returned Mary smiled and held her cup out to him. "Would you mind, Jack?" she said sweetly. "Black. With one Equal, please." Jack was seething at being treated like Mary's personal butler but what else could he do, act like a macho jerk and refuse? He took her cup and filled it. As he was pouring, Thornton came bustling in. "Oh good, you're both here. Morning Mary. Morning Jack. Mmmm, coffee. Great! While you're at it, Jack, I take mine black. Thanks." Jack's face was burning as he served coffee to both Mary and Thornton. Mary's eyes sparkled in triumphant amusement as she accepted her cup. Jack felt he'd been played for a fool. He didn't think Mary could have orchestrated Thornton's arrival so accurately, but the incident seemed to emphasize how she managed to capitalize on every opportunity to advance her position, even if it was only in the way her superiors perceived her in relation to others. Jack tuned out the conventional pleasantries, responding automatically to the comments on weather and health. He was trying to analyze how Mary had managed to outflank him so handily. If he could just learn what it was she did, how she managed to spot opportunities in seemingly mundane events and turn them to her advantage. Or conversely, if he could figure out what it was he was doing wrong, how he left himself open to her tactics then he could give her some of her own back. That would really be something! To see *her* squirming uncomfortably for a change. This line of thought led naturally to imaging Mary rubbing her body against him and begging for his cock. "...so Frank Bruckner's taking over the L.A. region. He'll be in the office a day or two later this week or next to clear up any details he can't handle by phone but he's effectively out of the picture," Thornton was saying. Jack came instantly alert. This was big news! "I need to replace Frank as project manager as quickly as possible," Thornton continued. "And with minimum upset to the project in the transition. I don't have to remind you that the Acme job is the biggest thing going in this company - ever. I could assign the job to one of the other project managers, but there's nobody available who's up on all the details. I could also promote someone already working on the project to take over, but this is such a major undertaking with so much riding on its success that I'm reluctant to turn it all over as the first assignment for an unproven new manager." Jack felt his hopes fade. Thornton as much as said the job opening wasn't going to be filled by promoting from below. So why was he telling all this to Jack and Mary? Did he want their opinions on the subject? "So what I've decided to do is assign the job to a team of two project managers. You'll have equal authority, equal responsibility. But you'll be able to consult each other and support each other on touchy decisions. If you have a dispute that you can't resolve among yourselves then I'll settle it. But I have to warn you that if you call on me to intervene, even once, I'll be rethinking the arrangement. You both know the project better than anyone else in the company and I have confidence in your ability to do the job. It'll mean a full promotion to project manager for each of you with salary commensurate to the position. You'll have full authority over the project - it won't be a training exercise. Your first task will be picking your replacements to take over your respective sections. Then I want revised schedule and budget estimates by the end of the week. So what do you say? It's a big job but I have confidence in you both. Are you willing to accept the responsibility? Willing to work together as a team?" Jack stared at Thornton for what seemed an eternity. It was just now sinking in that he was indeed being offered promotion to project manager. The job he'd been working to achieve for years. A lot more money. And to top it off, being in charge of the glamour project of the entire company! But... he'd have to share it all with Mary. By all rights he should be her boss. He was the one with the experience, she was only 27. But apparently Thornton didn't see it that way. Then everything seemed to fall into place. With a sudden burst of clarity he realized that Thornton's first choice was actually Mary. But she was so young that Thornton didn't want to risk the most important contract in the whole company on her, alone. So he was making Jack her stooge. Jack knew all the procedures even if he was an uninspiring stiff. Jack would know if she were neglecting some detail and prevent the whole deal from going south. Then once Mary got established they could move Jack out on the pretense of needing him elsewhere. He'd end up "managing" cookie cutter projects that didn't require originality, merely attention to detail - a talent he'd demonstrated often enough. The joy he'd fleetingly felt at finally being made a project manager was ashes in his mouth. "...I really appreciate this, Mr. Thornton," Mary was saying with apparent sincerity. "I'm sure I speak for Jack when I say we can work well together. We won't let your faith in us go unrewarded. Right, Jack?" she pointedly stared directly at Jack's astonished face. Mary's eyes flashed a warning. Jack could see she already considered herself the senior partner in this "equal partnership". That fired his fantasy of Mary as his squirming slave girl. So she thought she was better than him? Well, he didn't have to just accept it. He could prove himself the better man. He had the experience. He'd show this little bitch who was in charge. And from there it would just be natural to move on to showing her who was in charge in bed. He was certain that women like Mary reacted to power as an aphrodisiac. He'd have her following his lead in the office and begging for his touch in bed. "Um... yah, Mary. You're right. We won't let you down, sir." They spent the next hour discussing details of the arrangement as well as going over some of the more sensitive aspects of their new project. Jack felt he'd brought up some great points for discussion but Mary had somehow managed to brush over them as mere details. And much to his chagrin, when they finally left the office at midmorning, he noticed that Mary was on a first name basis with Bob Thornton, while he still stumblingly called him "Sir" or "Mr. Thornton". Later in the day, through a series of circumstances that Jack wasn't quite clear on, Mary wound up moving into Bruckner's vacated window office on the fourth floor while Jack was installed in a much more modest accommodation near the lavatories among the junior project managers. Oh well, it wasn't much better than his cube but it was an office with a door. He'd finally made it to the fourth floor. ***** Several weeks later, Jack stormed into Mary's sumptuous office. Mary's secretary followed in his wake uttering a mixture of protests to Jack and apologies to Mary. "It's okay Betty. I'll handle Jack." Jack dropped a stack of printout down on Mary's desk without waiting for the secretary to leave the office. He then flopped down on her sofa and insolently put his feet on the coffee table. "Care to explain that?" Mary hardly even glanced at the papers. She knew what they were. She'd been expecting this blow-up for some time now. "These're the invoices for the photo etching from Micro Tech, Jack. What's to explain?" "What's to explain?! God, Mary! We agreed to use Opti Systems for that work." "No, Jack. *We* didn't agree on anything. When *I* suggested going to Micro *you* started spouting corporate policy and said Opti was the jobber we've always used. I said yes we always have used them and let the matter drop. But I sent the work to Micro because they've got a new process and they're young and hungry for business. They gave us a firm price 30% under Opti's best rate, *and* they delivered the product 6 weeks ahead of schedule. So what's the problem?" "What's the problem? The problem is you didn't consult me! You took one hell of a risk..." Mary chopped him off mid-sentence. "That's right, Jack! I took a risk. A *calculated* risk that I felt confident in because I backed it up with research into Micro's new technology. I didn't consult you because I knew you'd blow a gasket and I just don't have the time to wheedle you every time I have to break with precedent. I saved the project a load of money and even more importantly a lot of time. That's what they pay me for: to make informed decisions that might involve calculated risks but have the probability of increasing that figure at the bottom line. So why don't you go back and do what you do best, handle the routine crap for me so I can be free to do the risk taking?" Jack was livid. He leapt to his feet and paced back and forth. Damn the bitch! Why couldn't she act like a real woman? He wanted more than ever to put her on her knees and stuff his cock down her throat. But he tried to control himself. He reminded himself that he couldn't win against Mary by thinking with his dick. "You're forgetting we're supposed to be equal partners on this project." "Oh Jack, do you *really* believe that crap? We both know the only reason for that partners farce is because Thornton is a chickenshit male chauvinist who doesn't trust a woman under 30 with his golden goose project. It's only a temporary situation until I prove myself to the boys upstairs, and then you'll be reassigned to a new project and I'll be given official recognition for what's unofficial fact already. The glass ceiling still exists, my friend, but you can bet your ass this is one woman who's heading through the roof. Why do you think I got Bruckner's old office while you ended up in that damn broom closet? Don't you think everyone knows who's first among equals in our little partnership? Hell, Jack, you've got me to thank for your promotion in the first place. Thornton's first choice was Smith but I asked for you." Jack's face went white. "You... you... *asked* for me?" "Now don't take it that way, Jack. Yes, I requested you. Because I like your work. Because I knew I could work with you. I knew we could come to an understanding. And we can, can't we Jack?" "What if I say no?" "Jack. Oh Jack, think about it. You don't really want to put it to the test with Thornton, do you?" "So I'm supposed to be your yes-man? Let you make all the decisions, run the project all by yourself? You're saying I'm worthless." "No Jack. That's not it at all. You're not worthless. Far from it. We each have our strengths. Yours is handling the mountain of details in the routine management of the project. Nobody's had more experience at it than you. My strength is in seeing opportunities and capitalizing on them. Don't make waves on this and your position is secure, Jack. I'll be taking all the risks and I'll accept full responsibility for the consequences if one of my deals goes south. You're a project manager now and a damn good one. You'll have other projects where you'll be fully in charge. But this is my trial by fire. I need you, Jack. I need your experience. Work with me, Jack. We make a great team." "As if I have a choice? If I raise a fuss I'll be an ex-project manager. I can't go back to the third floor, and you know it. You win, Mary. You always win." Jack left work early for the first time in years. He went home and masturbated furiously while thinking of Mary and reliving a completely different outcome of the afternoon in his fantasies. ***** To be continued.... -- +--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+ | story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us | | Archive site +--------------------+------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | \ .../assm/faq.html> /