Song of Songs
by Randolph O. Mann
I have been awake for hours, just staring at the Buon fresco that is decorating the arched ceiling of our stylish boudoir. My brain has been racing for an answer and today, the sixty-four thousand dollar question is... what sort of birthday gift can a devoted, natural blonde, trophy wife bestow upon The-Man-That-Has-Everything?
I know this must sound haughty and trite, but just think for minute... and believe I have! This man of mine can, and has, purchased every single item his biddable heart desires. Believe me when I tell you, if something catches his eye... he has to have it! Money is no object for him and I am asking you, what would you do in my place? I beg you, please, share your thoughts.
What is a dutiful spouse to do?
I have shopped until I dropped, then I got up and shopped some more. My husband has everything, some items in more than one color. If my dear Randolph doesn’t already own it he really doesn’t want it and therein lays my yearly dilemma. What can I give to my darling husband on his birthday? One year, as a joke mind you, I bought him a tie, a personally autographed Jerry Garcia tie and after we both had a good laugh my husband graciously thanked me for such a unique gift before he tied me up with it and then had his way with me. The next year I tried to surprise him when I booked a romantic Caribbean cruise for just the two of us and wouldn’t you know it once the ship set sail, I spent the next ten days flat on my back performing as his ‘fantasy’ galley slave while I stared at the mirrored stateroom ceiling instead of my lovely Buon mural.
So I think you can now appreciate my plight.
* * *
I didn’t sleep a wink last night, tossing and turning inside the lavishly furnished high-rise bungalow that I call home. I have been racking my brain for an answer. My quandary you ask? Well in a nutshell I have been grasping at straws and coming up empty regarding what sort of birthday gift could an affectionate, redheaded, ‘sexretary’ offer to The-Man-That-Has-Everything?
I know this must sound idle and vulgar, but you have to understand my generous benefactor is loaded! So what would you do in my place? After all that man can and has purchased every item his philanthropic heart desires. I am telling you, when something tickles his fancy? He has to have it!
Money is not a problem for him.
So what is a ‘Gal Friday’ to do?
I tried Ebay until carpal tunnel symptoms forced me into ‘rehab’, then from home, against my physician’s advise, I Google-ed some more. I am telling you, my boss has everything, some items in more than one color. If my dearest Randy doesn’t already own it he doesn’t want it and that is my annual predicament. What can I give to my ‘Sugar Daddy’ on his birthday?
Two years ago I romantically followed my Dearest, I mean Mr. Mann, on a business trip to San Francisco where I had previously booked the adjoining suite for myself. Then I surprised him by throwing open the shared doorway and for all my trouble I got to spend the next few days flat on my back acting as his ‘fantasy’ sex slave while staring at the mirrored executive suite ceiling. Then last year, as a joke mind you, I bought him a tie, a personally autographed Jerry Garcia tie and after we both had a good laugh my boss graciously thanked me for such a distinctive present before he tied me up with it and then had his way with me.
So I think you can now understand my problem.
* * *
This year I did what any accommodating wife would do. I took a direct approach with my man and at breakfast I just asked him.
“Honey, what would you like for your birthday?”
And he gave me the same tired answer I get every year. “Oh, just anything dear, you know it’s really the thought that counts.”
But this time I was NOT going to let him off that easy. So I pulled together one of my manipulative pouting facades then I coquettishly batted my eyelids and cooed into his ear as I tenderly snuggled both of my surgically enhanced breasts against his torso as we cuddled together next to our hand carved mahogany breakfast table as I employed my ‘lethal’ breathy whisper.
“Dearest, I really want to present you with an extraordinary gift this year. You know something incredibly special, something that you will like and something you will never forget. But it must be something that I can still manage to afford personally from my household stipend. I really want this gift to come from me, not something I just bought with one of your credit cards.”
Brusquely my husband gave my personal issue some thought before candidly recommending, “Then why don’t you give me something money can’t buy?”
So I quizzed him, “And, what would that be?”
To which Randolph explained, “Try seducing my personal assistant.”
Shocked I asked, “Leslie?”
Randolph harmonized, “Yes, Leslie.”
Flabbergasted I had to inquire, “Do you realize what you are asking me to do?”
My self-assured spouse answered in the affirmative. “Yes.”
Nervously I replied, “Honey, that is totally ridiculous, I’m not going to fuck the ‘help’.”
Randolph clarified, “I didn’t suggest that you should fuck her. I only asked you to try. Just flirt with her while I watch. There is nothing ridicules about two women flirting.”
I contradicted, “I couldn’t do that!”
As Randolph good-naturedly reassured, “Sure you could. Just drop by the office this morning while I finish my paperwork and then before we all go to my ‘surprise’ birthday luncheon you can suggestively compliment Leslie upon her attractive ensemble and just let the conversation evolve.”
I vehemently objected, “Oh No! There isn’t enough money in this whole wide world to get me to do that! And who told you about our ‘surprise?”
Ignoring my question my beloved sarcastically interrupt, “Ok, then just give me another Jerry Garcia tie.” He hurriedly drained his morning coffee and rushed off to the office while I was left to ponder our morning tête-à-tête.
* * *
This time around I tried something any long-suffering mistress should have done long ago. I ‘cut to the chase’ and during his morning coffee I just asked him.
“Mr. Mann, what would you like for your birthday?”
As expected, I got the same mulish response I get from him every year. “Oh, just anything dear, you know it’s really the thought that counts.”
But this time I was noti going to let him off that easy. So I adjusted my hip hugging pencil skirt in such a way that the side slit provocatively flaunted my shapely right leg and I then unfastened the top two buttons of my blouse before affectionately burrowing both cheeks of my cosmetically improved ass into his waiting lap as we cuddled together on the Corinthian leather chair positioned behind his hand carved mahogany desk. Next using my perfectly manicured index finger I playfully toyed with his vulnerable left ear as I went to work with a singular breathy whisper.
“Boss, I really want to give you something amazing this year for your birthday. You know something really out of the ordinary, something that you will like and will never forget. Given of course that I want this gift to come from me it must be something that I can afford on a working-girl’s budget, not something I just bought for you from one of your business accounts.”
Sympathetically my bighearted direct-supervisor gave my simple matter his full attention before bluntly suggesting, “Then why don’t you give me something money can’t buy?”
To which I had to ask, “What would that be?”
So Randy explained, “Try seducing my spouse.”
Shocked I asked, “Linda?”
Randy harmonized, “Yes, my wife.”
Bewildered I had to ask. “Do you realize what you are asking me to do?”
My self-assured manager daringly confirmed “Yes.”
Nervously I replied, “MR. Mann, that is totally ridiculous, I’m not a home wrecker.”
Randy firmly spelled out, “I didn’t suggest that you should wreck anything. I only asked you to try. Just flirt with her while I watch. There is nothing ruinous about two women flirting.”
I disagreed, “I am sorry, I couldn’t do that!”
As Randy good-naturedly explained, “Sure you could. When my lovely wife comes by the office this morning I suggest that you will make it your business to interrupt us while I am finishing my paperwork. Then prior to all of us going to my ‘surprise’ birthday luncheon, you can methodically sashay around my desk in this incredibly suggestively office attire that you have on and just let the repartee evolve.”
I strongly objected, “Oh no, sir! There isn’t enough money in this whole wide world to get me to do that! And who told you about our ‘surprise’?”
Disregarding my query my darling boss mockingly terminated the discussion by saying, “Ok, then just give me another Jerry Garcia tie” as he hurriedly drained his morning coffee before sending me out of his office and back to my work station where I was left to ponder our off-the-record morning rap session.
* * *
I must admit, I was truly taken aback by the provocative nature of what Leslie considers ‘work-appropriate’ apparel. I was completely engaged as she fluttered about his desk shuffling papers that needed his signature. I wanted to believe the ‘fashion malfunction’ created when Leslie bent forward to deliver my decaffeinated soy-latte to be ‘utterly’ accidental, as I was gauchely provided with a dramatic panorama of the inside of her blouse. A spectacle which caused me to meekly blush at such an awkward episode that seemed to be consciously fashioned for my viewing pleasure? Leslie’s impish giggling confirmed my suspicions and established that her devil-may-care flaunting to be fully premeditated upon her part which set into flight a bouquet of butterflies inside my stomach.
Needing tangential encouragement I stole a quick glance into the mirror hanging behind Randolph’s hand-carved mahogany deck as I franticly appealed towards my darling husband’s reflection for amnesty from such an erotic fool’s errand. But the naughty smile engulfing the face of my Birthday Boy told me my fate was set. So I did precisely as my manipulative spouse had recommended, I congratulate her upon.. the debonair craftsmanship... of the jewelry adorning her ears as I winked towards the replicated image of my husband that I found in the mirror hanging on the wall.
* * *
I must admit, I felt really exposed in what my Boss calls ‘work-appropriate’ attire and from the moment I answered Randy’s summons and ‘impulsively’ stepped into his office, The Missus just could not keep her eyes off me. I am telling you, that harpy followed my every move undressing me with her eyes as I collected signature after signature upon bogus contracts while I frantically tried to postpone the inescapable.
My Randy knew I was stalling too and secretly nudged my knee with his thigh as he wheedled me into asking, “Can I get you something, Mrs. Mann?” And, just as I had anticipated, the unappreciative bitch requested her usual, a decaffeinated soy-latte. I knew the ‘old nag’ always runs to form so I had one ready in the offing so it was a simple matter to turn around and reach behind Randy to where I had the ‘Is-That-Soy’ Latte waiting.
Hesitant and needing my lover’s encouragement, I stole a quick glance across the hand carved mahogany desk and out of the corner of my eye towards The Boss in the false hope he might call off this fool’s errand. But the wicked smile that crossed my Birthday Boy’s face told me everything, as he silently affirmed the mission was a go, and before I could turn around my belly filled with a flamboyance of butterflies as I compliantly unclasped the top buttons of my blouse just the way Randy had coached me. Then just as he had predicted, when I leaned forward to serve the coffee both of my ‘sisters’ all but fell out of my top.
Red in the face you ask? Crimson is a better description, for Christ’s sake. After all, I’ve got the Boss’ Ball-n-Chain staring at my near-naked rack and rhetorically asking, “Are you sure this is soy?” I could not tell you if my flush was caused by my nude awkwardness or from Linda’s customary catty remark but I do know it was out of deference to the sensitive circumstances at hand that I contained my emotions and courteously replied, “Yes ma’am. I made it myself.”
Then while the lecherous dyke actively stared down my top I prepared to sarcastically hint that a picture might last longer. When out of nowhere, The Boss’s Bimbolina spots the earrings Randy had purchased last year to ‘console’ me the night he took Ms. M. out to dinner to celebrate their anniversary. Oh sure, I could have made a scene, but instead I just leaned in and gave Linda a real close-up look as I coyly informed her, “They are gift from a dear friend. Do you like them?” as I winked over her shoulder at Randy.
* * *
A closer inspection of Leslie’s multicolor sapphire briolettes exposed the unmistakable arty influence of Cathy Carmendy. Finding jewelry of this quality hang from the lobs of a hackneyed office page was a shocking discovery, which tweaked my interest. So I surrendered to the curiosity of the moment and I leaned forward for a better look. From this proximate vantage point near the nap of Leslie’s neck I stumbled upon the hint of what I thought to be a familiar aroma. The idyllic bouquet of such a heady scent beckoned further insidious scrutiny upon my part. So upon inhaling a second lungful of air from Leslie’s lingering décolletage I was able to wholly corroborate my feminine intuition as it hit me: this is no ordinary dime store toilet water. What I smelled was most unique and unless I miss my guess that copious perfume is none other than Clive Christian’s “Imperial Majesty.”
To me it seemed most peculiar for such posh chattels to be purchased with the Spartan earnings of a clerical assistant. After all, ounces of Clive's ‘Imp-Maje’ are not just falling out of the sky every day and Carmendy earrings don’t sprout from trees. This little tart is most defiantly a ‘pricey piece’ and I pity the fool footing the tab on this one. It is my guess this transitory trollop is signing markers that her surgically downsized ass will be expected to cash and I just haaaaad to know which of Randolph’s foolish junior executives is ‘tapping’ this coquette.
Plus my Darling would be sooooo happy if I could uncover exactly who bought those earrings. So I placed both of my hands tenderly upon either side of Leslie’s jaw while turning her head towards mine. I looked straight into her gold digging eyes and then just as my lips parted that I might inquire as to the identity of Leslie’s generous benefactor. She leaned in and... kissed me! Passionately gagging me in the process while she filled my oral cavity with her persistent French style smooch.
With her decadent tongue quickly snaked its way beyond my lipstick painted ‘grill’ she began aggressively exploring the vast interior of my mouth. I sent a questioning glance over Leslie’s shoulder towards the reflected image of my husband. His euphoric expression plainly communicated his voyeuristic proclivity and I saw my opportunity. I decided right then and right there to oblige Leslie’s quixotic mugging and make this morning an occasion to be remembered. After all, Randolph’s birthday only comes around only once a year and who was I to spoil the moment?
* * *
I could just kick myself! My lewd suggestion had only been offered figuratively. I never thought the ‘Old Battleaxe’ would take me up on such a sarcastic idea. Then to make matters even worse, she has taken it upon herself to awkwardly spotlight everyone’s attention upon Randy’s passionately inappropriate keepsake hanging from my ear lobes, and if I had known the Boss’ “Old Lady” would be sniffing along my neck I never would have worn Randy’s pricey toilet water this morning, either. I am telling you, this birthday could get real messy!
I hesitantly looked over her shoulder towards The Boss and raised both of my eyebrows to silently communicate the urgency of the moment. After all Linda has to be guessing that I could never afford these expensive earrings or such a luxurious perfume with my meager take-home pay. I figured it would only a matter of seconds before this nosy bitch gets around to asking several wickedly incriminating questions.
Plus The Boss would be sooooo ‘pissed-off’ if she were to find out exactly who sprung for those earrings. So when Linda’s hands took hold of my chin and she looked straight into my eyes, I knew the boss’s ‘Better Half’ was about to broach this markedly sensitive state of affairs and I had to shut her up! So I just French kissed the busty uxor.
I filled Linda’s mouth with my tongue stifling her while I stalled for time. Frantically I glanced towards Mr. Mann for help! Nothing but crickets! And the contented look on Randy’s face said everything for him.
I am telling you, either The Boss has an ironclad ‘pre-nup’ or my Randy was sooo loving the ‘show.’ Either way, I saw my opportunity and I decided right then and right there that if The Chief likes to watch so be it and together the ‘Marchioness’ and I will make this morning a birthday to be remembered. After all, Mr. M’s B-Day only comes around once a year and who was I to spoil the moment?
* * *
Encountering such iniquitous comportment from a common office staff page would set anybody back on their heels and rest assured I too was staggered at first. I never anticipated being so vigorously molested in such a communal venue. After all, Leslie’s waterlogged assault came as a total bolt from the blue and sent my probing conversation to a ‘back burner’ as my next mouthful of air became priority one for me. I frantically needed to create distance between myself and this hot-blooded ‘camp follower’ as this spur-of-the-moment liaison was clearly headed in a direction far beyond innocent flirting. From the reflected image in Randy’s fancy mirror I could see my eager birthday boy monitoring this wayward spectacle as our naughty progression had stenciled a demonic grin upon my husband’s face and it truly broke my heart to spoil such blissful reverie.
But I had to breathe!
Instinctively both of my hands shot forward to ward off this lesbian mugger. A feline struggle ensued as we each parried for leverage. Employing both of my arms in a straight-arm fashion I was able to pry us apart which allowed me to extract Leslie’s probing tongue from my airway.
Curiously, I can still recall feeling the protuberance of her erect nipples as they contacted the palms of my approaching hands. The gelatinous quality of Leslie’s organically acquired breasts dictated a vacillating ‘battlefield’ which in due course caused both of my hands and my grasping fingers to be dislodged as they slipped under each of Leslie’s arms and tore her silky blouse askew in the process.
That was when the whole perverse scene switched into ‘fast-forward’ as together we tumbled to the floor and it was on! During our titanic struggle we rolled around the office floor scratching and clawing at each other’s garments in a burlesque display while both of our panties fell as tattered fatalities to our artless cat fighting. Our mad scramble eventually came to a conclusion with this ‘blue stocking’ in a commanding position on top of me with each of her knees straddling my head and I staring straight into Leslie’s naked quim.
* * *
Frankly I will admit, sucking face in the boss’s office, with the boss’s wife, while The Boss was watching had my head spinning and I knew that before I could let Mrs. M come up for air, I just had to think of a way to funnel the conversation in some direction beyond the incriminating jewelry I had on. After all, the identity of my preferred earring purveyor was extremely hush-hush information that had to go with me to the grave. Particularly if the lavish lifestyle I had grown accustomed to was to continue. The last thing Randy and I needed was Linda discovering our delicate ‘business’ relationship. So with my tongue firmly planted in Linda’s cheek I simply embraced this spur-of-the-moment liaison that was clearly headed in a direction far beyond innocent flirting.
Stealing a nippy look towards Randy’s beaming mug confirmed the Birthday Boy would be no help to me. The Boss was grinning from ear to ear, punctuating his enthusiasm for this wayward spectacle and it truly broke my heart when The Missus spoiled such blissful reverie.
But I guess she had to breathe?
Without any warning both of Linda’s hands shot forward with each hand helping it’s self to one of my defenseless breasts. I knew I was a pretty good kisser but I never could have predicted how ‘slipping the tongue’ to the ‘cold fish’ married to Mr. M would get my nipples ‘felt-up.’ “What’s up with that” I thought to myself? I decided it was best to just go with the flow. If girl-on-girl groping floats their boat I will grudgingly play along.
That was until the horny bitch ripped my blouse! Not just any blouse mind you. We’re talking about a treasured keepsake that had been given to me by my ever considerate Sugar-Daddy at my graduation celebration two summers ago. Now it was on!
That was when everything kicked into overdrive as together we went a scratching and a clawing to the office floor. Both hems gathered high around our waists, hair got pulled and clothes were torn during our girly struggle. Our panties were lost as ragged victims of this man-made cat fight while we rolled around the office floor in our birthday suits scratching and clawing ourselves. Eventually this twisted-sister mêlée ended with me in a commanding position on top of his ‘sorry bitch’ with each of my knees straddling her head and Linda staring straight into my naked quim.
* * *
This feline skirmish might have ended right then and there as I was prepared to concede the day, when all of a sudden the ‘bawd’ lowered the boom by depositing her vagina directly upon my helpless visage. The whole office became muted and promptly went dim the second her shapely thighs came to rest on top of my face. Struggling proved fruitless because Leslie had my head and neck tightly clamped in place with her eye-catching knees. The weight from Leslie’s pelvic girdle pinned my upper body to the luxurious Persian rug covering the zebrawood floorboards decorating Randolph’s office and placed me at her mercy.
The prospect of performing soixante-neuf with this sullied cunnilinguist only crossed my mind as my legs were ardently being force apart. I leisurely came to recognize how this tainted jezebel intended to drink from my ‘furry cup’ and I was helpless to stop her! Hip squirming merely postponed the inevitable as I little by little I relaxed and acquiesced to this off-the-cuff ‘oral’ indignation while imagining the devilish smirk that must be adorning the facial appearance of my ever vigilant spouse.
When Leslie suddenly released her grip and I was allowed to hear Randolph announce; “I am afraid I must ask you two lovely ‘candy lickers’ to stop and please put your clothes back on. I am starving and if I don’t hurry you two ladies along we will be awkwardly late for your ‘covertly’ orchestrated Surprise Birthday Luncheon.”
* * *
I was ready to call it quits right then and right there. So I looked to The Boss for orders. The Birthday Boy was beaming and just bobbed his forehead demonstrating his hankering to supervise the tipping of her velvet and that simply it was arranged. Ms. M and I would be ‘dining at the Y.’ I shrugged my shoulders and just smiled. After all, when the boss says ‘Dive!’ it is my job to say ‘how deep on my way down.’ So I lowered the boom by depositing my vagina directly on Linda’s face! I am sure the whole office went dark and silent the second my shapely thighs covered her mug.
Struggling was a joke. I had Leslie’s head and neck scissor-ed between my knees. Linda was at my mercy for Christ’s sake, with her upper body pinned to the pricey “rag-head’ runner covering decorating Randy’s office floor. Silly me, I figured ‘giving lip service’ to the owner’s wife in her current compromised position would have been a simple chore. Not so, Linda was twitching and squirming like a gammahunching virgin. Her knees couldn’t have been clinched together tighter if they had been glued and it took a determined effort on my part to finally pry them apart. But with time, little by little, Linda relaxed and acquiesced to the ‘muff-diving” arrangement. It was a pity that Ms. M could not see the devilish smirk that we had placed upon the face of her ever vigilant spouse.
A grand hand gesture from The Boss signaled for his wife to be released and she was allowed to hear Randy say, “I am afraid I must ask you two lovely ‘candy lickers’ to please put your clothes back on. I am starving and if we don’t hurry you two ladies along we will be awkwardly late for your ‘covertly’ orchestrated Surprise Birthday Luncheon.”
Copyright© 2012 by Randolph O. Mann. All rights reserved. I welcome your comments. Email me at