Stepbrother With Benefits (5 page)

As Rachel shamelessly stimulated herself, a familiar scent began to tantalize Jack’s nostrils – it was the exact same alluring odor he’d experienced in his dream with Johanna!

Rachel’s impromptu masturbation session was so unexpected, that Jack could do nothing more than watch the teen in wide-eyed amazement – until after nearly a minute of intense frigging, she unceremoniously stopped and removed both hands.

“Tada!” she announced happily, sounding more like a magician pulling a rabbit from a hat than someone who’d just been pleasuring herself!

Sure enough, the green ball could now be seen without Rachel’s assistance... but only because her clitoris had swollen to twice its former size! The aroused organ was now so highly engorged with blood, it had no choice but to stick out, with the green ball pressed firmly on top and dragged along for the ride. Even the small outer ball was being pulled tight, creating a sizable dimple in the otherwise smooth hump of her hood.

“So, what do you think – do you like ’em?” asked Rachel, casually returning her foot to the floor.

Jack was so stunned, so dumbfounded, and yet so completely aroused by Rachel’s brazen exhibition of her body, that he could barely form a cohesive sentence.

“Uh, well, I think... oh god, yeah... I’d say they’re sexy.”

Rachel flashed her teeth, beaming with happiness. “Great! I’ve always liked ’em, but I’ve been wanting to get the opinion of a more worldly and experienced man.”

“And I, uh, just happened to be handy?”

“Something like that!” Rachel turned to leave the living room but immediately swung back, her large breasts bouncing dramatically on her chest. “You know, Jack...”

“Mm-hmm?”

“Since you do like ’em... do you think you could mention it to El? I just know she’d just love how sexy a nice piercing would make her feel... but she keeps saying you’d disapprove if you ever found out. She really seems to care about your opinion.”

Jack wasn’t sure which body part Rachel was thinking that Ellie should pierce, but her middle finger was slowly massaging her clit. She didn’t even seem aware of it!

Not knowing how to answer, Jack grunted and gave a non-committal shrug. He and Ellie did
not
talk about sexual stuff. Ever.

“Sweet! Anyways, I’ll go let her know you’re up.”

As Rachel dashed off with her shapely ass waggling down the hallway, Jack groaned under his breath and stared up at the ceiling.

He’d never before understood why anyone in their right mind would want to pierce their genitals... but seeing that ball pressed into Rachel’s swollen clit, and guessing how good something like that might feel, he was beginning to see the appeal!

Although Jack was still tired and his alarm hadn’t yet sounded, he knew there was no way he’d be able to fall back asleep after witnessing something like that. The big clock on the wall said it was nearly seven o’clock anyways, which was close enough to his usual wakeup time, so sitting upright he pushed the sweltering wool blanket aside and stretched out his arms, yawning and noting with a twinge of annoyance, that his back did feel rather sore from the lumpy couch.

Abruptly sensing coldness in his crotch area, Jack glanced down and was shocked to find his fully erect cock poking through the fly of his boxers – and literally pulsing against the front of his T-shirt.

Shit! This was probably not a piss-hard, either!

Hearing footsteps and voices coming from the other side of the apartment, Jack yanked the blanket back over his crotch and prayed for his erection to die away quickly.

While he waited, he almost began to dread how the next person to appear would be dressed – if they were dressed at all! So, it was a great relief when Beth came out wearing a perfectly normal pair of jeans and a printed college sweatshirt. She walked right past Jack, giving him a friendly wave and blowing him a kiss as she headed into the kitchen to begin making breakfast for the group.

By the time Mark and Ellie showed up a few minutes later, both also fully clothed, coffee was brewing and eggs were sizzling on the stove.

Everyone went about their morning ritual as usual, Rachel never letting on that anything remarkable had happened between the two of them.

W
orking almost
exclusively as a telecommuter for the past two years, Jack felt fortunate to have been able to complete the majority of his creative work in the peaceful environment of his house – only occasionally having to appear at his firm’s corporate offices for important events.

Still, meeting with potential clients had always been one of Jack’s favorite parts of the job. He particularly enjoyed the challenge of presenting his vision and convincing cynical and often clueless executives that his ideas would work – and how. His remarkable track record was proof enough that his finger was on the pulse of modern society... but after Johanna passed away, well, even Jack could admit that some of his creative spark had faded. Perhaps even more than “some”. And living alone in that big, empty house, had only served to compound the issue.

Jack’s wakeup call came four weeks ago, when he heard through the grapevine that someone besides him would be handling a major new client – but using one of
his
master plans. This lit a fire of self-preservation in Jack, and he fought successfully to reclaim his rightful position as team leader.

If only he’d felt nearly as passionate about his forthcoming presentation.

When the elevator doors parted on the twentieth floor of the
In Touch Media Group’s
downtown headquarters, Jack took a deep breath and steadied his nerves before stepping into the expansive marble lobby. He hadn’t been to the main office in a month... and the last time he’d been here, hadn’t gone particularly well with certain other employees.

The cute receptionist behind the desk smiled warmly in recognition, and Jack smiled back – but then her face abruptly turned serious when Mr. Morton, a managing partner and Jack’s immediate superior, stormed into the lobby and pointed a finger accusingly at Jack.

“Jack! There you are, finally!” he bellowed. “Come.
Now.”

The heavy-set man spun around and promptly left the lobby, Jack trotting quickly after as they weaved through a maze of wood-paneled hallways, glass windows, and grey cubicles to a familiar corner office.

Rushing inside the brightly lit space, the man threw himself in an opulent leather chair and glared at Jack. “Close the door,” he ordered gruffly.

With his heart racing, Jack shut the glass door and took a seat in the far less comfortable visitor’s chairs. They were low by design, allowing his boss to tower above his guests, while being framed by an impressive view of the downtown Chicago riverfront.

“Um... so what is it, sir? I should really see my team, go over everything for tomorrow...”

Picking up a black fountain pen from his desk, Mr. Morton tapped it rapidly on the edge for an entire half minute. Just waiting... thinking. Jack began to wonder if he should be saying something else, but then Mr. Morton sighed and spun his chair around to face the window.

“What the fuck’s the matter with you, Jack?” he finally said in a low voice.

Jack swallowed hard. “What? Me? Nothing!”

“Something’s
clearly wrong with you. I know you’ve had your problems, but you were my rising star, Jack. Now you’re giving me worse ideas than the fucking interns, and I don’t even have to fucking pay them for the privilege of getting fucking screwed!”

This was so much worse without being able to see his face. “Um, if I knew what you were unhappy with, sir...”

“Everything!”
screeched Mr. Morton, turning back. “Your whole damn campaign, that’s what’s fucking wrong! I’ve seen the draft you emailed last night, and I’ll tell you what: it’s shit, Jack. Utter shit.”

Jack’s worst nightmare was coming true. “But... did you see the video?”

“Especially
the goddamned video! You’re seriously telling me you think
this
is what teens will respond to?” Jabbing blindly at a key on his laptop, the big flatscreen mounted on the interior wall blinked to life... and a draft of Jack’s television ad began to play, with the baritone voice of James Earl Jones narrating over stylized scenes of everyday life. It hadn’t been easy to get such a celebrity for the job!

“Too big, too small. All work, no play. You’re connected to the world every minute of every day, but you’ve always been forced to pick what device to take. Phone or tablet. One or the other. But choose no more, because now there’s the revolutionary Flux. The one and only personal device you’ll ever need... wherever life should take you. This Christmas, give the gift of Flux.”

When the screen faded to black, Mr. Morton turned slowly to Jack. His face was beet red. “Jack. Man. Either this is some kind of horrible joke, or you’ve lost it.”

“I... I can make it better,” offered Jack weakly. He’d spend two solid weeks on this thing! Just finding Mr. Jones’ agent had been an excursive in frustration...

“This
crap
you’re shoveling at me doesn’t even mention the fucking screen, and that’s the whole fucking point of it! And what’s with this all work, no play bullshit? It’s clichéd, man. Weak. Matsukisha is looking for their
got milk
moment. They want
where’s the beef
, not where’s the fucking mute button!”

Jack felt himself sinking lower into the padding of the chair. He felt an inch tall. “I swear I can make it better, sir.”

“Yeah, well, you’d fuckin’ better, Jack. Because if you fuck this up for us because your head’s no longer in the game... then you’re gonna be out on your ass faster than you can say
unemployment insurance!”

“Um... yes sir.”

“Now, some good news... because I’ve managed to postpone the presentation until Wednesday afternoon. So, you’ve got two days to patch this cock-up. Two days, Jack. But if I don’t see at least
something
I like by tomorrow morning, then you’re out and we’re going with Tom’s plan. Which if I’m being honest is crap too, but still better than
your
crap!”

Jack had battled Tom for the position he was in now. The arguments had gotten rather ugly, and he’d made many bold promises... so if he lost out to Tom now, then his career was as good as over.

Oh Johanna, why couldn’t you be here to guide me? Without you as my muse, nudging me in the right direction and pushing me away from the brink... creating the same kind of magic just seems impossible!

“Now, let’s talk about these fucking abominations you call print ads...”

* * *

When Jack finally left Mr. Morton’s office some twenty uncomfortable minutes later, his embarrassment and anxiety over his poor performance had transitioned into seething anger. Not because of what his boss had said, or because of some random twist of fate that had upended his life... but Jack was angry with himself, simply for having given up. For setting on mediocrity, instead of his normal standard of godly perfection, and thereby letting everyone down.

Jack had been so
certain
that everyone would like whatever idea he came up with – mainly because they always had – that he’d completely missed the obvious, and no one on his team had the courage to tell a grieving widower that he was an idiot.

Oh, but some part of him had known that something was wrong. It had been eating away at Jack’s confidence for weeks, but he’d chalked up the churning butterflies to mere performance anxiety. All because he’d been on the sidelines for too long. It would all get better just as soon as he was back in the saddle.

Still, Jack knew there was nothing he could do except roll with the punches and keep plodding ahead, even if his workload would be insane for the next few days. He had to meet with his team. Get their honest feedback... and together, come up with something catchy. Something edgy.

Or at least, something
better.
And fast!

“Hey, Jack – hold up there...”

Jack involuntarily cringed at hearing Tom’s voice. If anyone ever had reason to ask if he had any enemies that might wish him harm... Tom’s name would be the only one to come to mind.

“Yeah, Tom?” replied Jack warily, slowing his pace but not turning around. He didn’t need to see that greased-back hair, or that expensive tailored Italian suit that somehow always seemed to fit the man poorly.

“I just want you to know there’s no hard feelings.”

He’d have to be more specific than that. “For...?”

Tom hesitated. “Uh, well... because the boss isn’t going with your campaign, right? It’s a shame you had to come all the way down here and won’t even get to present anything to Matsukisha.”

“That hasn’t actually been decided yet,” replied Jack, clenching his jaw.

Tom snorted. “Oh, but it’s pretty obvious, isn’t it? Even mighty
you
can’t pull off a one-day miracle, man. This kind of shit takes focus groups and weeks of planning – and you’ve already fucked away an entire month!”