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Whitemailed Ch. 01

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“SHIT,” Caroline Jarrett spat out loud when her left tennis shoe clipped the coffee table in the middle of her claustrophobic living room.

“At least you didn’t do it with your sandals on like the other day,” she chided herself, trying to rub the pain from her foot as she fought the overwhelming urge to kick over the 4-legged nuisance in front of her. “You lived in the same house for 19 years…and now… you have to get use to moving around in this Goddamn bandbox…you should have at least made sure the walls were padded before you signed the lease.”

19 years in the same house, 24 years in the same marriage, both numbers that conjure up images of consistency and permanence.

“This… is… just… fucking…crazy,” Caroline let out a long sigh before collapsing down on the sofa.

Resting her feet on the same table she had almost toppled to the floor a moment earlier, Caroline allowed the quiet surroundings her to slowly calm her frazzled nerves.

“Nice life you’ve made for yourself, Darling,” she mocked, mentally surveying the fallout of her current lot in life for the 12 millionth time since the divorce.

“You went from owning a 4 bedroom 3 bath house to this fucking third floor condo… just like that… just like that,” the 44 year old mother of three spat, once again tempted to send the coffee table through the opposing wall.

“Man cheats on you for the last 10 years and you didn’t have a clue…pretends to be the perfect Husband and as soon as your youngest kid turns 18 he springs the news that you’ve been living a lie for your entire adult life…said he didn’t want to have the kids deal with it while they were growing up…you dropped out of college your Sophomore year for the Bastard when he knocked you up… you did the right thing and married him and next thing you know…your pregnant again… and then again…3 kids in 4 years and any chance at having a career of your own… right down the toilet,” Caroline’s bitter mantra played like a broken record inside her head.

“Even when the kids got a little older and you wanted to go out and get a small part time job to help with the bills, build a hint of a resume and make some connections, he would say, ‘Oh Honey…we’re doing fine…’ and you would always say… ‘Alright,’… so when he walked into the kitchen a year and a half ago… three weeks after your Daughter turned 18 and casually lays the divorce papers on the counter while youre fixing dinner and says he’s found someone else…what in the Hell are you supposed to do? “

“No college degree…No job experience…No child support and not even a penny of alimony because of that fucked up male judge…not that I want a penny of that Motherfucker’s money… just what in the Hell was I supposed to do!”

Just as her sobs of frustration and hurt were about to bubble to the surface however, Caroline looked up to the three decade old picture of her now deceased parents on the wall. Gaining enough strength from their smiling faces looking down on her to ward off those tears of failure she so wanted to cry, Caroline bit her lower lip and reminded herself just how strong and resiliant they had raised her to be.

Born in 1959, just as the nation’s racial disharmony was coming to a head, Caroline often reminded herself how charmed of a life she had been blessed with growing up. Reared in a middle class home in the suburbs of Chicago, unlike many of her friends from childhood, she was never at a loss for quality role models at home.

Watching the craziness of the Sixties unfold nightly on the family’s black and white tv as a small child, Caroline inherantly knew being a black person in America could be a daunting task as she grew into adulthood. In many ways however, she had been sheltered from the worst of the hardships. Growing up in a house where both her Mother and Father had good jobs with the Chicago school system, poverty was never an issue and opportunity seemed to abound.

The third of five kids, Caroline learned how to fight for everything she earned, whether it was at the dinner table or in the classroom. A steller student, Caroline had been accepted by several major colleges before deciding to stay close to home and attend the University Of Loyola. It was there, two months into her Freshman year at a fraternity party, she crossed paths with a 22 year old Senior by the name of Steven Jarrett.

Wanting to keep Caroline’s focus squarely on her academics while she was growing up, her parents were loathe to the idea of her dating seriously as a teenager. Her virginity intact when she went off to college, Caroline intended to keep it that way until she met the man she was going to marry. And that’s exactly what she did, only it occurred much quicker than she could have imagined.

Initially, Caroline thought she could handle playing with fire. Men, especially the upperclassmen were all over her from the day she stepped foot on campus. Of all the guys she encountered however, she found herself esat escort smitten with Steven from the word go.

While she had committed herself not to be the easy lay that so many of her fellow college friends had been, Caroline couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something special between her and the soon to graduate Senior hunk.

Her virginity taken a few weeks before Christmas of ’77 in Steven’s bed, Caroline had made the bold step of bringing her new boyfriend around to visit her family for the Holidays. By the time he was about to graduate the following Spring and had landed a job at one of Chicago’s major architectural firms, Caroline had fallen hard and completely for him.

When Steven offered Caroline the chance to move into his new apartment, despite her parent’s adamant objections, she quickly jumped at the chance. Less than three months after that, barely into her second year of college, Caroline missed her first period. Two months later she was married and expecting, and her schooling had become an unfortunate afterthought.

Not that she regretted a moment spent with her children, being there everyday to both send them off to school and then welcome them home, Caroline took great pride that all three had developed into fine young adults and that each of them were in line to get the diploma she never had a chance to. But with all three now grown and out of the nest, and no longer having a Husband to attend to, Caroline was left, at the relatively young age of 44, with no real sense of identity or purpose.

Doing the best she could to pick up the pieces of her shattered life, Caroline enrolled herself in a series of computer and networking classes at a local business college. While she had given up the hope of getting an MBA and maybe running her own Fortune 500 company, she still felt there was enough time, and gas left in her tank, to make a dent somehow in the world despite the personal quagmire she had found herself in after the divorce.

While taking those initial computer courses, Caroline met a couple of other women in similar spots as hers and one of them had asked her to take an introduction to paralegal class so she would at least have someone she knew to study with. Caroline ended up taking to the course load so well she decided to get her paralegal certification and soon after landed an entry level position at the real estate law firm of Graham, Sisler and Probst.

The $28,000 a year she was hired at quickly jumped to $32,500 after an initial review. Not a lot of money for the urban environment she was living but more than enough for Caroline to get her feet underneath her and help rehabilitate her scarred self esteem.


While the job at the law firm had been a good thing for Caroline, it was nothing compared to the joy 47 year old David Conrad Sisler derived from it. Fresh out of law school, Dave was hired as a lawyer at the firm at 25, gradually worked his way up the corporate food chain and was promoted to a full fledged partner in 1997.

Staring aimlessly out his 20th story office window one lazy late Fall afternoon, enjoying the first hint of a spectacular mid November sunset, Dave couldn’t help but chuckle at just how good he had it.

The fact a 20-something secretary was stripped naked from the waist down and spread eagle with her chest pressed against the inside of the window as Dave rammed his cock into her from behind was simply icing on the cake for the recently divorced Father of two.

“What fucking mid-life crisis?” he laughed to himself, stealing a peek down at the way his slimy cock burrowed a nice sized hole into the squeezing grip of the girl’s bubblegum pink pussy.

“Don’t fool yourself you sick Sonofabitch,” his conscience would quickly remind in such situations. “If you weren’t the Boss here Dave… if you weren’t making $400,000 a year… if you didn’t take Katie… or Kathy… or…Kary or whatever her name is for a ride in your brand new Mustang last night… there’s no way in the world she’d be grinding that sweet ass of hers back against your dick right now.”

“So Fucking What,” he would always counter his conscience with a wry laugh. “I am…I do… and I can!”

Usually getting nothing more than an occasional blowjob from a girl in the company’s secretary pool, Dave had been so smitten when he saw the “K” girl’s body in the tight, dark blue pinstripe miniskirt and blouse the day before, he couldn’t resist seeing if the girl’s round, heart shaped ass felt as good to the touch as it looked in the skirt.

At it with the K-girl for the better part of 15 minutes, Dave’s balls finally erupted, sending several scalding wads of his milky white ejaculate into the pulsing chasm of the young girl’s quim.

“That’s it Baby…uggrhh… YESSSS,” he groaned, bracing his feet on the floor as the lithe brunette convulsed between his plowing thrusts and the huge window in front of her.

Somewhat etimesgut escort embarrassed he still couldn’t quite remember the girl’s exact name in that intimate and fleeting moment, Dave pulled back and allowed his battle weary cock to slip free from the secretary’s frothy depths.

“That was great Mr. Sisler,” the K-girl seductively cooed, the satisfaction that she had just shaken the foundations of her Boss clear in her voice.

“Yes it was…We’ll definitely have to do this again,” Dave sighed, quickly shifting from fuck mode back into his business mindset as he zipped his pants back up and adjusted his tie. “By the way… on your way out… send one of the paralegals to my office… I need to tie up some loose ends before a meeting Friday.”

“OK,” the glowing and still somewhat unsteady secretary agreed, standing beside Dave for just a moment after she had pulled her panties back up and collected her things as if she somehow was expecting a kiss goodbye.

Taking the hint soon after, the K-girl checked to make sure her outfit was on straight before swirling around on her heels and walking towards the door. Putting on her best poker face before leaving Dave’s office, she clutched her laptop against her chest and returned to the main work floor.

Unable to resist stealing a peek at the same miniskirted behind he had just ravaged, as the dark haired secretary excused herself from his office, Dave smirked in re-affirmation of the company’s decision to create a secretary pool rather than having one set girl for each partner and executive.

“Like a freaking sexual buffet… a never ending and eager flow of exciting opportunities,” he laughed with a devilish and hearty sigh.

Truth be known, Dave was the only one at the company taking advantage of that particular perk. All of the other junior and senior partners were happily married and Dave was pretty sure none of them wanted to be paying what he was in alimony to the Ex-wife he had just left.

“Leaves more pussy for me,” he nonchalantly grinned before making his way to the thronelike office chair behind his desk.

Lowering himself gently into the seat, Dave began shuffling through the paperwork littering his desk as he waited for the paralegal he’d sent for to arrive.

“God…your cock’s still buzzing,” he groaned before reaching down to massage his freshly fucked groin through his tailored business trousers.

Dave was still lazily kneading his throbbing joint under the desk when a middle aged black woman cautiously poked her head through the office door.

“Mr. Sisler?” the medium built and slightly nervous woman asked. “I’m Caroline Jarrett…one of the secretaries said you wanted to see a paralegal for a second?”

“Ah…ah…yes,” Dave stammered, stumbling up from his chair to greet the well mannered woman standing in the doorway, thankful she showed no signs of noticing what he had been doing with his hand when she walked in.

“Come on in…Yes… I’ve seen you around the office,” Dave said as he offered his hand for her to shake. “Several of the other partners have had nothing but good things to say about you, Ms. Jarrett.”

“Oh…well…thank you,” Caroline replied, caught off guard somewhat by Dave’s initial kindness after hearing the rumors of what a jerk he could be.

Folding her legal pad under her left arm as she reached out to shake his right hand, Caroline walked across the carpeted floor as Dave invited her to have a seat.

It was a strange juxtaposition for Dave going from having the mindless sex with one of the firm’s young secretaries to 15 minutes later having a serious legal discussion with one of the firm’s older female employees. And it was a scene he found himself repeating with ever increasing frequency.

Dave had been smart enough to keep his sexual hi-jinxs restricted to the secretaries who seemed to come and go around the firm, making it a point not to dip his pen in the paralegal pool. Knowing their knowledge and expertise was harder to replace around the office, Dave didn’t want to effect the company’s bottom-line and he also knew their heightened understanding of the laws of the land made them more dangerous to deal with when it came to inappropriate sexual contact.

And besides, most of the secretaries were right out of school, in their early to mid 20’s with a healthy and adventurous sexual appetite and a desire to impress with whatever attributes God may have provided them with. Many of the paralegals, on the other hand, were somewhat older, much more polished and had career skills that weren’t easily replaced. Looking across the desk at Caroline, Dave found himself impressed with her preparation, demeanor and knowledge. He also saw a very warm, motherly and compassionate figure.

Not to say Dave wasn’t somewhat sexually intrigued with Caroline as well. He remembered from reading her personnel file that she was only a few years younger than he and from inspecting her ankara escort up close, saw she had aged quite nicely. From the gossip around the office, Dave also recalled that she had been recently divorced and was just trying to get her feet wet in the business world.

Reeling off several projects he thought Caroline would be able to help with during the course of their conversation, Dave found himself studying her smooth, light brown facial features and the way her noticeably ample breasts filled out the front of her tight black and white checkered blouse.

“Most of the women around here are just over grown and spoiled sorority brats… great fucks but a dime a dozen…Now this…this is a real woman, ” Dave found himself thinking, his cock once again stirring in his pants as he allowed his eyes to roam over the unsuspecting employee.

Allowing his mind to wander as Caroline fought to keep up with her notes, Dave worked through the same lascivious routine he often did when he was alone with a woman. He mentally undressed her.

“Bet the Bitch would be a great fuck,” he declared to himself before continuing with his verbal, work related stream of conscious.

“I’ve always wanted to fuck a black woman,” Dave once again lost himself in his perverse daydreams several moments later when Caroline started jotting down her notes. “There’ve been some real hot pieces of ass downstairs lately…just haven’t gotten around to any of them…and damn Dave…some of those black girls at the strip clubs… wouldn’t mind nailing a few of them either…but this woman here…she looks like she could fuck the snot out of you!”

“Pipe dream,” he finally decided after a long internal debate, nonetheless intrigued by the definite contrast between the snotty brunette secretary he had just fucked to the middle aged polished black woman currently taking notes on the other side of the desk.

“Good help’s hard to find Big Fella…just let this one go!”


About an hour after wrapping up his friendly and productive chat with Caroline, Dave found himself where he did many nights after work, killing a few beers and eating a light dinner at one of Chicago’s more upscale strip clubs, in this case an establishment cleverly named Big Shoulders.

Watching the various girls prance and promenade across the stage, Dave chastised himself slightly for being able to remember the strippers’ names better than he did some of his own employees.

” Diamond, Cassandra, Victoria, Renee, Mystique, Destiny…Destiny…Destiny…,” Dave’s voice rattled off the names inside his head until his gaze fell on the lone black girl on the stage.

“Destiny,” he cooed once again between sips of Guinness.

Keeping his eyes glued on the wispy, tall and elegant mocha beauty, Dave lost himself watching her dance and sway across the stage as his memory briefly filtered back to his meeting with Caroline in his office.

“Bet that’s what Caroline looked like when she was younger,” Dave whimsically thought as the black stripper got close enough he could literally smell the hint of her feminine essence as she grinded her crotch above his smiling face.

Cracking open his wallet to reach for a few dollars to add to Destiny’s G-string, Dave looked in and remembered he had stopped at the ATM earlier in the day and made a withdrawal for the upcoming weekend.

“What else are you gonna spend it on?” he quipped, stealing another quick glance up to the stage to survey the bevy of sweaty ladies, waiting for Destiny to work her way back to where he was sitting again.

Tapping his fingers anxiously on his wallet, his eyes fixated on the willowy black girl as she approached on her ungodly perilous stilettos, Dave reached for a $10 and wedged it between the baby-soft smooth skin of her hip and silver G-string.

“Do you do private dances?” Dave asked Destiny, hoping she could hear him over the dance music blaring from the club’s speakers, making sure she could also see the nest of $20’s burning a hole in his wallet.


Secluded in the privacy of one of the club’s VIP rooms, Dave reclined in the comfort of a velvet covered seat and smiled as the black stripper approached. His blood rushing violently through his veins as Destiny dropped to her knees in front of him, Dave stared down at her pretty face and shivered when she unzipped his pants.

An instant later Dave gas[ed when Destiny began to put her thick, berry red lips to good use.

“OH… YEAH… FUCK… SUCK MY DICK LITTLE GIRL,” the middle aged man’s voice rose through the dimly lit surroundings.

The only other sound in the room for the next several minutes, other than his heart pounding inside his chest, was the rhythmic slurping echo of Destiny’s mouth slobbering up and down on his rigid cock.

“She’s just a college girl trying to work her way through school I bet… Hell… in two years she might even be working for me,” Dave laughed to himself, loving the thought that he was getting his dick sucked by one of the same girls who would most certainly be providing a similiar service to the litany of celebrities, pro athletes or entertainers who frequented the club when visiting Chicago.

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