Performance Review D. Musgrave
Here's an excerpt from
'Performance Review'. I hope you enjoy just a taste of this story.
He wandered
out of the main office and entered the shop, hoping to find some peace in
the dull roar of the machines. That didn't happen. It was lunchtime and
all the equipment was idle. Mark sighed and wandered from machine to
machine, pretending to check the status of the jobs in the shop. He didn't
want to tip his hand by not appearing to be interested in the output of the
shop, especially to Lisa.
As he thumbed
through a stack of papers, Mark heard a thump coming from the direction of
the storage room on the mezzanine. He set the paperwork down and moved
closer to the stairs. The thud repeated itself and he heard a muffled
moan. He wasn't completely sure, but the voice sounded like Dylan's, the
shop foreman. Concerned, Mark rushed up the steps, thinking Dylan was hurt.
At the top,
he stopped, frozen in place. Inside the tiny room was Dylan, but he wasn't
hurt, and he wasn't alone. He was leaning back against a stack of boxes
with his pants around his ankles. On her knees in front of him was Lisa
with a fistful of the shop foreman's cock in her hand and a thin line of
saliva connecting her lower lip to the head of his cock.
He must have
made some noise, because she looked up at Mark with a wide-eyed gasp. He
saw several things in that brief moment—fear, shock, and unexpectedly,
relief. That last facet was what shocked him the most. He stood in the
doorway, staring at the woman who'd bragged incessantly about teaching
Sunday school. Now, she was simply a woman who held a drool-covered cock
in her fist, a cock that didn't belong to her husband. Most surprising, she
didn't seem mortified at him catching her.
Dumbfounded,
Mark didn't know what to do. Finally, he turned around and walked down the
stairs. He felt as if he were in a trance. The last thing on Earth he'd
expected to see was Lisa giving the shop foreman a blowjob. Mark went back
to the office and plopped down in his chair, without looking at Bill. There
was no way he could possibly concentrate on work, not after what he'd just
seen.
* * * * * To
buy this short story click here:
Performance Review
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Reproduction in any form is prohibited without written approval of the
author.
End
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