Archie’s office offers me a view of the “Hollywood” sign; it’s a romantic place to be when the sun dips below the horizon and the lights of Los Angeles twinkle on. It reminds me of Jack Webb’s Dragnet opening, “This is the city, Los Angeles, California….” Everything is done in shades of steel-gray and blue — very understated. My boss, on the other hand, is the sun bursting through the gray. His size is at once intimidating and attractive. His chest is covered in soft, fuzzy hair that he boldly exposes by wearing zippered-front jackets without a shirt. His expensive cologne fills every room up here.

From the day I was hired, I lusted after this man in the worst way. I was expected to run interference for him with all the wannabe’s that were interested in his contracts, his link to stardom, his cock or any combination of these. I tried to sneak looks at his crotch, but he always caught me, displaying a playful smirk.

Archie and I are a study in contrasts. He is gregarious and I am quiet. Archie would sit and talk to me about film production, sports, the Catholic church, dames and, last but not least, sex. He seemed to relish this interplay of subject matter. He drew me out of my ·shell and asked me sexual things, like my preferences in the bedroom. He exuded confidence, power and sexuality. I undressed him mentally a hundred times during my working day. At night, when I was home alone, he became my phantom ravisher.

I shopped the men’s counters of department stores until I found his scent. Making love to myself involved the ritual of splashing on his cologne. I’d call his name in a whispered moan, until my cunt would burn and ache for penetration. While my legs trembled, I opened them wide, imagining Archie shoving his hard cock in the pussy I viewed in my mirror. I longed to be fucked.

In reality we did lunch, worked at concerts, went to clubs to preview talent and, late in the evening, we talked. Archie asked me if I dated anyone. I told him no, that I was divorced. He wanted to know about my sex life, what I liked. He just smiled when I talked of having my pussy licked in the sixty-nine position; nothing shocked him. Often, while talking about his sexual preferences, he would reach in his jacket and rub his chest. This habit made my cunt twitch. Our conversations so stimulated me that I had to rush home to masturbate. Sometimes I just rubbed myself to orgasm in the car.

“It would be so easy for us to have sex here in the office,” he said one evening, “but I never mix business with pleasure.” He went on to tell me that if we started dating, I would have to give up my job. I didn’t argue the point. I just went home and took a hot bath with my dildo, focusing on Archie’s revelation that he loved to have a woman suck his balls ever so gently while she inserted a finger in his asshole.

The week before Christmas, Archie asked me to help him decide on presents for some of his business associates. He explained that he wouldn’t buy me anything, but that I should think about what I wanted, and he would give me a bonus to cover the cost. How generous, I thought to myself. But all I wanted was to fuck him. Two days before Christmas, our last day in the office until after the New Year, he asked me if I had decided on what I wanted. I told him that I had made a difficult decision.

“I want you to fire me,” I responded matter-of-factly. He seemed bemused by my announcement. He demanded an explanation. I walked to the door to lock it, but he thought I was leaving and said, “No, wait.” I locked the door and turned, unbuttoning my blouse. The bra I had chosen for the occasion was a skimpy, black lace affair, made to expose the top of my breasts. I pulled my breasts the rest of the way out. Pinching and twisting my nipples, I licked my lips and said, “Well?”

Archie came out from behind his large oak desk and grabbed my shoulders. Kissing me, he whispered that I was fired. He tugged at the pins holding my hair, which I wore in a bun, and my long dark curls fell over my shoulders. He licked my ears as I wriggled in his grasp. His cock pressed hard against my crotch as his tongue probed my mouth. I unzipped his jacket so his hairy chest was naked on my breasts. My pussy just dripped.

Archie’s mouth went to my breasts, biting until my nipples turned bright red. I wanted to grab his cock, but he wouldn’t let me near his pants. He knelt, pulling my skirt and delicately stitched lace panties off in one muscular grasp. My clitoris was pulsing when his tongue pressed against me. He pushed me down in a chair and pressed his finger into my pussy, then looked up at me and asked what I wanted.

“Tongue-fuck me, Archie,” I begged. He massaged my clitoris with his tongue. He sucked and licked, finally inserting his tongue in my pussy and his finger up my ass. I came all over his face. He stood in front of me, his cock huge and hard in his pants. I reached for his belt, but he grabbed my hand and said I had to tell him what I wanted. I whispered, “My Christmas present.”

He unbuckled his belt and unzipped his fly. His cock burst from his pants. It was thick and long; everything I had fantasized and more. I fell to my knees and put his cock deep in my mouth. His pelvic rhythm pushed his cock down my throat. I held his balls, and then pulled his cock from my mouth to lick up and down his shaft. I gently sucked each ball. I put my finger deep in my wet pussy and then shoved it up his ass. He groaned and called my name. I wanted to say, “Archie, fuck me,” but my mouth was full of his cock.

Finally, he grabbed my hair and pulled my head from his crotch. He told me to get on all fours with my ass up. He licked me from the back, then spread my cunt lips and thrust his cock deep inside me. He went in and out, in and out, deeper each time. He asked, “You like Archie’s cock? Is this what you wanted, babe?” When I moaned my satisfaction, he pulled his cock out of my cunt and stuck his finger in my pussy. Then he worked the wet finger all around my asshole. He pushed me flat on my stomach and slapped my asscheeks. “Get it up here, baby,” he said.

Slowly, he worked all those thick inches of cock up my ass and then started moving in and out. Filled with his shaft, I came again. He felt the grip of my asshole and pulled his cock out just as he was coming, squirting semen all over my ass. I reached around and got a fingerful of his sweet love lemonade. I turned over and, using my hands, squeezed my love toy, milking the come through the tip of his cock.

Slowly, his cock started to swell. I let it rub my cheek while I sucked on his balls. He was holding my head and telling me that he wanted me to put my cunt all over him. He lay down on his back on the couch that I had always teasingly referred to as his “producer’s couch.” He said, “Come here and sit on my face. Put that pussy into production.” I spread my thighs and let his tongue work my clitoris. He held me firmly, allowing me to ride his tongue until I screamed. I had to fuck him, and slid down his chest until I felt his stiff cock on my ass. I raised up and came down hard on the shaft. He said, “Work it, babe. Fuck Archie. Yeah, that tight ass feels so good.” I rode him like a wild bronco as he held tight to my nipples. Finally, I felt his hot come shoot up my ass.

Now Archie’s playful smirk returned. He said, “I’d like you to come and work for me. Firing you was so good, I have to hire you in order to do it all over again.”

We both laughed, and have been in love and lust for the past five years. It became an inside joke between us when he would get on the phone and say to one of the talent agents, “I gotta go now, I have to fire my executive assistant.” Last week, one of his lawyers asked me how I liked working for Archie. I responded by saying that it was great, except that he fired me on a regular basis. He was sympathetic, but my pussy felt a rush of anticipation.