STRAIGHT

STRAIGHT

By

Henry Chukwuemeka Onyema

It all began when Harold Kulu arrived at the office, neatly clad in a pinstripe black suit, matching tie and supremely polished shoes, looking like a poster boy for the corporate world. It was one outfit he would have gladly done without, but then when you get the job of personal assistant c*m executive researcher in a six-pack company like Miranda Consulting, you had better wear the uniform.

Once he introduced himself to the smiling Bianca Ojukwu lookalike receptionist in the posh lobby and showed her his employment letter, she signaled one of the two uniformed gentlemen in a cozy cubicle opposite the Plexiglas double entrance door.

''The Chief's office, Tako. He is the new staff.'' She flashed Harold a smile that could have easily parted the clouds on a rainy day. ''Hope you will enjoy your time with us, Mr. Kulu.''

Harold was infected by the warmth she radiated. So infected that he uttered his first unprofessional words in the company.

''With you, Miss Jezie, I sure will,'' he replied, glancing at her nameplate  on her desk. Suddenly he realized the awful faux pax he had committed and opened his mouth. Miss Jezie was sporty; she smiled at his stricken countenance. 

''It's okay, Mr. Kulu. I regard it as a compliment. See you later.'' She smiled reassuringly. Harold breathed a silent prayer of thanks to the powers above and followed Tako across the vast hall to the bank of shiny elevators.  A soundless, air-conditioned ride in one of them took them to the top floor.

Harold had not been to the company until now. The aptitude tests and barrage of interviews that won him the job were conducted at a vast business center in the five-star King's Hotel in Ikoyi. It was the first time Harold had ever been to a hotel for a job interview. Not that he was complaining; he and other applicants got a nourishing meal after the exercise and their transport fare was reimbursed. All two hundred of them at the first test. So the process continued until they were whittled down to the final three. The two guys who Harold beat went home with smiles: they confided in their lucky rival that they got excellent references for their good performances in the tests and bulging brown envelopes.

''If you don't keep this job, old boy, then your village wizards deserve a raise,'' said the more friendly of the guys as they parted.

His words reverberated in Harold's head as he was reverentially ushered into the Chief's inner sanctum following  Tako handing him over to another smiling beauty queen in a pinstripe trouser-suit who served as the Chief's secretary. I will watch my crazy tongue; I will not let my senses go south-south, even if the Chief is a god, goddess, or damn it, gorgon, he resolved.

The secretary did not enter the office. She simply spoke into the intercom, got a reply and smiled at Harold.

''Follow me, please.''

She led him through a door in the far wall. A short, well-appointed, invisibly air-conditioned passage ran from the door to a cream-colored wall. ''Here we are, Mr. Kulu. You are expected.''

Harold looked at her as if she was nuts. Or perhaps, he was nuts.

''But...where is the door?'' he stammered.

She smiled, pointed at the far wall and walked back to her office with red carpet steps. Harold stared at the far wall which, from all indication, was just a wall. Jesus, what is going on? he wondered. As he nearly turned back to the secretary's office, an almost soundless, slight hum tinged his ears. What he saw only in James Bond movies hit his eyes: a perfectly concealed door, painted totally in the color of the wall, slid out of the wall and opened quietly outwards as if bidding him in.

''Good morning, Mr. Kulu. Please, relax and come in.'' The voice was calm, reassuring and female.

Only a fear of not believed by his friends if he turned and ran made Harold walk carefully towards the door. He did not look back once he stepped through because he knew his funk would hit the rooftop if he did. The door disappeared soundlessly in the wall as soon as he stepped in.

Seated in the large, deluxe office suite, behind a massive oakwood paneled desk which had only two laptops and a couple of telephones as its sole occupants, was a woman. And what a woman! She was beautifully and gloriously naked.

She got to her feet, clearly untroubled by her unclothed state as the young man stopped, not knowing how to react. He was sweating profusely despite the air-conditioning. The look on his face clearly indicated he knew he was in the presence of madness. And what a physical manifestation of madness this was.

All the women Harold had seen since he stepped into Miranda Consulting were epitomes of elegant feminine charm which their corporate attires accentuated. This one was a good three inches taller than Harold's six feet without shoes. She was a solid mass of well-toned muscle. They rippled under her lovely tawny skin. This was a woman who punished the weights; her amazingly appealing large hands indicated she was no stranger to the martial arts or boxing. Her broad shoulders were strong without being threatening. Yet, they radiated controlled danger. Harold, despite his fear, stared at her long, well proportioned, tapering legs. Their sexuality was just too much for a mere mortal man. They carried her ample buttocks and lower regions effortlessly. The arrogant mountains on her chest screamed for climbing; it was obvious an uninvited climber could be squeezed into the next world between them and thrown off while a welcomed guest would reach the peak of Nirvana. Her face was surprisingly pleasant: big, black eyes parted by a long, firm nose; an almost manly jaw which her large, inviting lips and cheekbones softened. She wore a friendly smile but Harold could not shake off the feeling of danger. Maybe it was his feverish imagination. 

''Don't be frightened by my state, please. I conduct business this way. Please have a seat.'' She waved to an elegant visitor's chair.

Harold remained on his feet, swallowing severally.

She nodded understandingly.

''Haven't you seen a naked woman before, Mr. Kulu?''

''Not...i...n this situation, please.''

She smiled again.

''Well, you better get used to it if you will work here. I mean you no harm. I know it is a shock, and what with the door. But consider it as a way of breaking you into the system here. We are pretty unconventional here.'' Her voice bore traces of undiluted Cockney.

Harold breathed deeply and sat down. For the first time he became worried about the rapid surge of his p***s under his boxers. His new  boss continued as if she was at a board meeting.

'' I am Miranda Jumoke Vaughan, in case you don't know.'' She reached in in the topmost drawer and pulled out a CD. ''Record of your interview. It wasn't your grades or presentations that got you the job. Listen.'' She slid the compact disc into the receptacle of the Lenovo laptop on her desk, tapped a few keys and the pictures and voices of the three-man panel and Harold filled the screen.  She adjusted the computer's position so that Harold could see for himself.

''Do you consider yourself a maverick, Mr. Kulu?'' the potbellied panel chairman asked him with a smile that did not reach his eyes.

''Yes, sir.''

''Why, if I may ask?''

Harold spoke with more confidence than he felt. 

''From my background. I scored 320 in the JAMB exam, got admitted to study Law on merit. Three days into Law class, I went to my dean and applied to be transferred to History in the same university. That's pure craziness as far as Nigeria is concerned. But  I knew I never wanted to study Law, though my parents and sister are lawyers. I never believed in all these so-called professional disciplines. Also, my folks are solid Christians. I grew up questioning everything they believed in, faith wise.''

Miranda switched off the interview and gave him a deep look.

''My kind of person. So your tasks are going to be pretty unconventional. Unusual kind of research.''

Harold swallowed, cursing his bulging manhood. Miranda saw his reaction but apparently ignored it.

''As long as it is not criminal, Ma.'' He nearly bit off his tongue. My second c**k-up, he thought. The village wizards are doing overtime.

But Miranda was not annoyed.

''Unorthodox, but not criminal, I assure you.''

Harold took a deep relief-soaked breath. Miranda got to her feet. For all her muscle she walked with the gracefulness of a cat. She sat on the edge of the desk, her hips thrust out too close for Harold's comfort. Her c**t's glorious attack on his nervous eyes was overwhelming.

''Your first assignment, Harold.'' The low, sexy throatiness of her voice sent a small man somersaulting down Harold's spine. ''Suck me.''

Harold gasped.

''What?''

''You heard me, Harold. Get to work.'' She reared up on the massive desk and spread her legs.

Run!  Jump! Push her away! The voices screamed in his head. In all his thirty years Harold had never been so blatantly assaulted by a female predator. But what really shocked him was the upsurge of his atavistic rawness at that moment; the almost shredding of the fabric of his shorts by his unputdownable p***s.  For crying out loud she was no match for her beautiful employees but she oozed his darkest erotic fantasy at that moment with her burning eyes and displayed pudenda.

''I won't kill you if you refuse,'' she said huskily. ''But I want it like mad, now.''

Harold jumped to his feet, turned. The door was already in sight.

''You see, no coercion.''

Her voice was pure silk.  He turned back. Her posture had not changed. Primordial sexuality overwhelmed him. Ignoring even the blatant whiff of danger, he descended on her. Miranda gasped as his lips took her to paradise.

The next four hours were full of erotic gluttony. Miranda's screams were feral but they did not pierce the soundproof walls. Her muscles nearly ripped out of her skin. She virtually tore off Harold's clothes when she felt he was too tardy. She took charge, only pausing to do the honors with a condom she extracted from the desk drawer. The rhythm was fast and furious like an African samba. Their hips gyrated and locked, clashed and counterclashed.  No style was too dirty. Harold could not have enough of her breasts and she wantonly abandoned them to him. Their doggy bred Alsatians, not puppies. Their sixty-nine was a war of mouths on the genitals. Orgasms and squirting flooded the cushions. When things went totally crazy Miranda led him into a room bereft of anything except ankle-deep exquisite Persian rugs.

''You are a s*x devil, Ma,'' Harold whispered in her ear as he grabbed her breasts from behind and dug a probing finger into her womanhood.

''Yes! So come into...'' She never finished because her employee got her on the rug and the War of the Roses, Lagos version, continued. They burrowed into each other's flesh; his raging prick came up against her ravenous p***y till they exploded in a final carnal uproar and the room moved upside down. They slept off almost two hours later. 

When Harold opened his eyes it was a few minutes after 4p.m. Miranda was seated in a plastic chair she had brought in, fully dressed in a decent simple blue dress that concealed her charms.   She sipped contentedly from a can of Coke. Her face glowed with satiation.

''Hi, loverboy,'' she said cheerfully.

Harold jumped up.

''Na wa. Am I dreaming?''

''No, darling. The bathroom is over there. Freshen up, join me in the office.'' 

Harold had a long shower in a state of wonder and thought. As he dressed up he realized how ravenous he was and smiled his gratitude when Miranda handed him a sealed plate of Mr. Biggs rice and chicken and a big bottle of orange juice. She had a plate for herself. They ate in amiable silence. Miranda cleared everything and took up her position behind her desk, every inch the CEO.

''You must be wondering what all this is about?'' She smiled.

''You executed your first assignment in flying colors.  Straight A.'' Her smile reflected Harold's broad grin. Suddenly, almost abruptly, her face hardened.

''Please, don't get any ideas, Mr. Kulu. You are here to work. And no love or romance fancy s**t, okay?''

Harold got the message.  He was no slouch, either.

''May I ask a question, Ma?''

''Go ahead.''

''Why did all this happen? I don't think this is standard practice for new staff in consulting firms.''

Miranda stood up and focused gimlet eyes on him. Harold met her gaze evenly. The worst thing she can do is fire me, he thought.

''I will tell you in due course. Hope you won't be a boy and go blabbering to your beer-parlor pals about how you screwed your boss on your first day. Not that I care, but it diminishes you.'' Harold was no fool.  Her tone gave the lie to her words.

''I need my job, Ma.''

She smiled, reached in her drawer and took out an envelope.

''For a good job.''

Since Harold was not the type of man who spat salt out of his mouth he accepted the envelope gratefully, bowed and excused himself.

When the door disappeared into the wall Miranda put her head on the desk and cried over the nymphomania which had blighted her life.

THE END