Martha Templeton and her computer did not stop discussing the program she was developing
when her manager, Alan Harris, came and looked at the screen over her shoulder. Nor did
they stop when he slid one hand inside the front of her tunic and fondled the smooth bare
skin of her left breast. After finishing the immediate program topic, she told the
computer to do something else for a few minutes while she had a private conversation.
“Mr. Harris, since I know you already have a wife and a child, I assume this is not
a proposal of marriage. I think we should discuss what changes you want to make to my
duties somewhere else, perhaps in your office away from prying eyes and ears,” she said in
a quiet, perfectly normal conversational tone.
“Come into my office for a moment, please, Miss Templeton,” Alan said out loud.
“As soon as I have finished this module, say in about ten minutes,” she replied,
“Will it wait that long?”
“Of course,” he answered, and with that he moved away.
The module she was trying to program was trickier than she thought, and she wasn’t a
brilliant programmer, so it was over twenty minutes before she knocked on Alan’s office
door.
“Where have you been? I was waiting for you,” he said impatiently reaching for her
as she shut the door behind her.
Slipping away from his grasp she said, “Sit down, please, Mr. Harris,” as though it
were her office and he the visitor. He realised then that she was a little taller than he
had thought, only a couple of inches below his five feet ten.
“Now, I take it you want me in a bed for sexual purposes somewhere,” she started, to
his amazement.
He hadn’t expected a twenty year old junior programmer to be quite so matter of fact
about a rather daring sexual approach in her first month in her first job.
“I live with my parents and you live with your wife and child, so I would need an
apartment somewhere, at your expense of course,” she said.
On the vastly overcrowded Earth of 2088 it was well-nigh impossible for her to get her
own apartment until her parents were dead or in a home. Then, of course, she would be
thrown out of their two-roomer because she was only one person. Even married couples of
her social status only had one room until their child reached puberty, and after it left
home. The very wealthy, as ever, had different arrangements.
“If I could arrange somewhere, would you come?” he asked.
“Only if you are a good lover,” she replied ambiguously, and walked out of his
office.
‘That will do for now,’ she thought, ‘If he is serious something might come of it,
but if he is only trying it on, the demand for an apartment will stop him.’
Staring at the door, Alan thought, ‘She was totally in control of that conversation.
She even made a pun on her exit line. This is something she has thought through to the
last detail. I might have found a real full-time sex partner here. I wonder how
experienced she really is?’ At the back of his mind was an unvoiced suspicion that he
might just have found a woman who could dominate him, and that maybe that was what he
wanted and lacked at home.
Returning to her computer, she reflected on her decision to find a rich man and let him
buy her virginity. Marriage was now only for licensed couples and that took a measure of
time and commitment which none of her boyfriends had been willing to make; each of them
professed to love her and each of them wanted her to prove she loved him by going to bed
with him. Well she thought that sex before marriage was silly, because if you gave a boy
sex, why should he bother to marry you?
After some encounters in which she came very close to giving in, she realised that
her body wanted sex, so if she couldn’t have marriage, money was the next best thing.
Selling it on street corners didn’t seem a good idea, so her conclusion was that the best
option would be to find a rich man and grab him.
As she was leaving work that afternoon, Alan said, “I’m going your way today, I’ll
give you a lift Miss Templeton.”
Unable turn this offer down easily, she found herself in his car and, as she
expected, heading in the wrong direction. Her parents lived in a solid middle-income
housing complex on one edge of town, but Alan was heading into the centre, where only
students and the poorest people lived.
Stopping the hovercar, he led her up a flight of stairs (how quaint and
old-fashioned, she thought) to an apartment about the size of one of their two rooms at
home. For this part of town that was quite large, about six feet by eight. Looking round
her, she realised that it was fully equipped to be a home, it had cooking and shower and
cleansing facilities as well as a bed and the inevitable 3V wall.
Closing the door behind them, he gave her a sheet of paper that, to her utter
amazement, said she was now the occupier of this apartment. Swiftly checking with the
Registry via the room’s 3V wall, she found she was resident in the apartment, the rent and
taxes were paid for the next six months, and she could set the door to admit anyone she
chose, or bar anyone but Alan. Moreover, and totally unheard of, the Registry confirmed
that she also still lived at her parents’ apartment, so they wouldn’t lose her room if she
moved here. Somehow she had become, officially, two separate people who just happened to
share a single identity, right down to the tiniest detail and yet were being treated as
two people with double water, food and accommodation rations.
Turning to him, Martha said, “That was unbelievably quick and I thought it was
impossible for two people to have the same identity.”
“I have friends,” he said smiling.
She revised her opinion of his suitability as a ‘sponsor’ considerably upward; if
he could achieve an all-but-impossible apartment in one afternoon, what else could he do?
More importantly, what else WOULD he do?
“What now?” she asked.
“Since you are so blasé about all this, I’ll unwrap my present to myself and
inspect what I’ve bought, please,” came the urgent answer.
“Before I strip for my new ‘owner’,” she said, little realising how prophetic those
words would be, “a few more arrangements need to be cleared up.”
Taking charge of the situation again, she laid out the ground rules she had prepared
for their arrangement.
“One,” she intoned, “If you touch me again at work, I’ll scream my head off as
though I were still a virgin.”
“Two: my virginity is on offer here and that must be taken gently, though not
today. I don’t want to be torn open brutally, nor do I want to be in agony for days
after.”
“Three: nobody must know; not anyone at work, not my parents, not your wife. As a
part of that we are Alan and Martha here, but Mr. Harris and Miss Templeton outside that
door.”
“Four: I know I’m not a brilliant programmer, but I will do my best and work hard;
you will not sack me if you want to see me again.”
“Five: I don’t like expensive and fancy presents, food, clothes, or treats. If you
want to give me something more than this apartment, it has to be cash.”
“Do you agree to all of those?”
Surprised again by how mercenary and how much in control she seemed to be, he
decided that her terms were actually to his advantage. No scandal for her meant no
scandal for him. Cash tips only meant no agonising over what to buy, and no need to take
her to restaurants where they might be seen by someone who knew them.
“Yes, that all seems fair,” he admitted, “but I want to see you and play with your
body now. Why can’t I have your virginity tonight?”
He wondered if his luck could be that good, still a virgin at twenty, in this day
and age?
“It’s just a game, Alan. Don’t worry. You can have it tomorrow night, if this
apartment hasn’t vanished. It will be all the better for twenty-four hours waiting for
it, thinking about it, and anticipating it,” she reassured him, “Anyway, I need to move
some things from my parents’ place this evening.”
Then she moved away from him and slipped off her tunic and underwear without any
attempt at teasing and lay down naked on the bed. Alan looked at her and saw a
well-proportioned girl, who was obviously the sort who would have played a lot of hockey
at school. Not beautiful, not even pretty, but she had a pleasant face framed with dark
auburn hair cut into a fashionable page-boy bob. Her smile as she looked back at him,
unafraid, showed even, well-cared for teeth. She had a good body, if a little full, still
with some puppy fat giving her a slightly childish appearance. Her breasts were on the
large side, and would obviously sag in the years to come, but just now they were asking to
be stroked and licked and kissed; his gaze was causing the nipples to stand out a little,
though even fully erect they would not be large. Below a firm belly was a luxurious
triangle of auburn curls which almost completely concealed her cunt and lapped across on
to the tops of her thighs. All in all, an appetising sight.
Martha found being naked for him, which she had never done for any of her
boyfriends, was causing her cunt to moisten and his gaze on her body was making a little
twinge of excitement go back and forth between her nipples and her lovebud. Strangely,
she thought that instead of lying down she should be standing and Alan should be kneeling
in front of her.
“There you are,” she said, watching his face as he looked at her body, “You can come
and play with your new toy now, as long as you are careful.”
That was how it all started.
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