Julie Covington McGill Ch. 05

Story Info
New hire finally succumbs to her female boss's advances.
4.8k words
23.2k
28

Part 5 of the 5 part series

Updated 06/08/2023
Created 04/28/2017
Share this Story

Font Size

Default Font Size

Font Spacing

Default Font Spacing

Font Face

Default Font Face

Reading Theme

Default Theme (White)
You need to Log In or Sign Up to have your customization saved in your Literotica profile.
PUBLIC BETA

Note: You can change font size, font face, and turn on dark mode by clicking the "A" icon tab in the Story Info Box.

You can temporarily switch back to a Classic Literotica® experience during our ongoing public Beta testing. Please consider leaving feedback on issues you experience or suggest improvements.

Click here

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is labeled Chapter 5 of the Julie Covington McGill series, but in reality it is Chapter 08, with Chapter 6 being Julie Covington McGill: The Lynches, and Chapter 07 being Like Mother Like Daughter. The story is written to stand on its own, but it's highly recommended to read the preceding chapters for background and context. Enjoy!

**********

For the second time in as many weeks, Michelle found herself scribbling a note and leaving it on the kitchen counter before making an early morning get-away after an awkward sexual experience.

"An awkward sexual experience." That's the understatement of the year, as this time she was making a quick exit from her childhood home after making love to her father for the first time, too embarrassed and ashamed to stick around and face her parents.

"I really need to get myself into therapy," Michelle thought to herself, as she passed through the toll booth of the New York Thruway, heading back to her apartment in Poughkeepsie. The small patch of pubic hair between her thighs was matted with the dried combination of hers and her father's cum, because she didn't want to risk waking her parents with a morning shower.

Her thoughts kept drifting between the memories of the intense pleasure she felt while sucking on her father's cock, and the horrible knot of concern she would get in the pit of her stomach, at the thought of possibly ruining the wonderful relationship she had built with her dad over the years. And the sheer wave of terror that would wash over her at the thought of facing her mother.

"Poughkeepsie 1 Mile," read the Thruway sign, and Michelle uttered, "Fuck, fuck, fuck!" The impromptu trip home was to escape the sexual tension between her and her boss, Ms. Julie Covington McGill, and the minor detail of having sucked off her husband the morning after they invited her over for a "welcome to the firm" barbeque. And now she was making a hasty exit from her hometown, after realizing her girlhood fantasy of making love with her father.

Michelle briefly considered just continuing to drive south, running away from all of these awkward situations caused by her overactive sex drive. But being a realist, she threw on her right blinker at the last minute and took the exit.

"What matters most is what you do next," she encouraged herself, using the often repeated advice from her father over the years, whenever she would find herself in a difficult position.

The steaming hot water of the three-by-three shower in her small apartment felt like a tropical vacation, as it flowed over her 5-foot-3 frame and her 34b breasts, untangling the small patch of hair that sat above her otherwise bare pussy. Thoughts of two of the strongest women in her life, and her most prominent role models, her mother and her new boss, Ms. Julie Covington-McGill, kept running through her mind. Despite her efforts to use the shower to forget her troubles, her thoughts kept drifting to the memories of sucking each of their husband's cocks.

"Why does cock have to taste so damned good?!" she exclaimed aloud in the small bathroom, her voice resonating off the tiled walls, as she shut off the water and stepped out of the shower.

Michelle sat in her car in the Smith and McGill employee lot for a good 15 minutes before working up the courage to pull open her door. "Put on your big girl pants and face the music," another often used phrase of encouragement from her father, ran through her mind, as she stepped out of her Prius and headed into the office.

The small talk with her coworkers about the weekend helped make things seem "normal" and soon she was at her desk, burying herself in her work.

The bing of her email notification snapped her attention away from the spreadsheet she was analyzing, and her heart sank when she saw who it was from and the subject line, "Important - Come to my office at 4:30pm today."

While this was Michelle's first job out of college, she was smart enough to know that being summoned to the boss's office for an end of the day meeting was never a good sign, especially after you've fucked up. She could feel her face redden as she contemplated all the ramifications of being fired, and kicked herself for not just staying on the Thruway last night and running away.

She took a deep breath and clicked the red X on the notification, preparing herself to "take her medicine," another familiar phrase from the cliché factory that was her father. The next hour of the afternoon seemed more than a day, and when the clock in the lower corner of her monitor showed 4:25, she stood up and smoothed out her skirt, pulling the navy blazer over her cream colored blouse, as she headed to the large office in the northwest corner of the floor.

"Miss Lynch is here to see you ma'am," said the middle aged secretary into her headset.

"Send her in," came the curt reply, loud enough for Michelle to hear both through the door and the earpiece of the headset.

"You can go in now," said the secretary, with a tone and look of empathy.

Michelle took another deep breath as she turned the handle of the heavy door and entered the beautifully appointed office.

"Come," said her boss with a wave of her hand, without lookup away from the computer screen on the return of the desk. Michelle's heels make a clacking sound as she walked over the cherry hardwood floor, until she made it to the large Persian rug which covered the space under her desk.

Ms. Covington-McGill kept typing at her keyboard as if Michelle was not even there, makings the seconds feel like hours, and causing the remorse to spread through Michelle's body like a virus. Standing silently like this also caused a familiar tingle between her legs, as she remembered how her dad would use the same tactic before administering spankings when she was a little girl.

"So how long did you think it would take me to figure out what you've been up to?" Julie said without looking up from her computer. Michelle was thankful for the silence to finally be broken, but shuddered at literally being called out on the carpet like this.

"I'm sorry ma'am?" Michelle said barely above a whisper, eyes still cast at the floor, adding the question to the end of the response, as if she didn't know what Ms. McGill was referring to, but sincerely offering the apology.

"Oh, I certainly wasn't expecting an apology young lady," Julie responded, making Michelle feel even smaller and more insignificant than she already did.

Michelle heard Julie's chair creek as she turned it away from her computer, and instinctively she moved her head up to look her boss in the eyes. She was ready to accept responsibility for her actions, and was going to take her lumps while maintaining her dignity. She just hoped the axe would fall quickly, so she could keep herself from crying until she was escorted out of the building.

Those eyes. Big, round, pools of deep blue ocean water, peering at her from behind a pair of elegant half-glasses, on a sparkling gold chain. Michelle felt her heart flutter when their gaze met, and thought that if she had to be fired, at least it's by someone incredibly beautiful, who she respected and admired. But then she read the rest of her boss's face, and was taken aback by the beautiful smile. "Is she actually enjoying this?"

"How soon can you pack up your things?" Julie asked while handing Michelle a page off her printer, presumably a termination agreement.

"I can be out of her by five ma'am," Michelle said, looking at the clock on the wall, fighting back tears.

Julie's laughter was like a knife turning in her heart.

"Honey, you can't possibly get home and pack an overnight bag in 10 minutes," Julie added in between giggles, "besides, our train doesn't leave until 7:00 PM, so you don't have to rush."

Confused, Michelle looked down at the paper Julie handed her, and it was an electronic Amtrak train ticket to New York City.

"Mr. Dorian of Gittleson Gears called to tell me how my junior associate saved him close to ten grand a month by catching a error in his corporate lease agreements. He wants us to come out, on his nickel, and thank us in person."

"Oh!" Michelle gasped with a huge sigh of relief, "so THAT's what you meant when you said you knew what I had been up to."

"Of course dear," Julie replied, while removing her computer glasses, looking deeply into the young girl's eyes, "whatever else could it have been?"

Never being one to posses a poker face, Michelle blushed from the tops of her breasts to her forehead at the thought of the other thing she assumed this was about. "Ummm...well...err...nothing..." Michelle stammered over her words, trying to keep from blurting out "because I blew your husband the other night."

Julie giggled to herself inwardly at her protégé's guilty discomfort, remembering how cute Michelle looked on the nanny-cam recording, with her husband's balls bouncing off her chin.

"Oh, and pack that dark grey skirt of yours," Julie said as Michelle turned to leave, "Dorian's a bit of a hound-dog and that skirt really shows off your ass."

Just as the natural color was returning to Michelle's face, her boss's words caused her to blush again. She knew as a young professional woman, she should be outraged at being objectified for her body, and flaunted for the benefit of a client, but all she was feeling was extreme relief at not being fired, and warm and tingly knowing that her mentor has noticed her outfits and her ass.

Julie watched her young associate leave her office, and appreciated the extra sway of her hips as she walked to the door, which was no doubt added for her benefit. She subconsciously licked her lips anticipating how that firm, young ass will feel in her hands.

Michelle rushed home and packed, making sure to include the dark grey suit as requested. She had no idea what was the proper attire to wear for the trip, so to play it safe, and save time, she just kept on the outfit that she wore to the office that day. Michelle arrived at the train station by 6:15 PM and was surprised not to find the habitually early Julie anywhere in the station. Michelle stood in the line of about 25 other passengers, and kept checking her watch, and the departure time on her ticket, making sure she had the right date and time.

"Wrong line dear," echoed the familiar voice off the marble walls of the mostly empty train station, as Michelle looked up to see a redcap with Julie's luggage on his cart, escorting her to the area marked Advanced Boarding. She found herself blushing again, as she watched Ms. McGill's ample breasts jiggle beneath the off-the-shoulder maroon sweater, with each click of the heels of her knee-high boots pulled up over the legs of a pair of skinny jeans. Michelle looked down at herself, still decked out in her work clothes, and chastised herself for not being brave enough to dress casually for the trip. "Come now," called Julie, as the redcap held the elevator door, and Michelle rushed over wheeling her overnight bag and slinging her garment bag over her shoulder.

"Pity you didn't have time to change," commented Julie, as she looked down at the shorter woman, enjoying the view as the blood once again rushed to the exposed flesh of her cleavage. Julie enjoyed every perk of her position of power, and loved how easy it was to make Michelle blush.

The porter led the women to the Business Class car at the rear of the train and loaded their luggage while they selected their seat.

"I've never traveled Business Class before," said the wide-eyed Michelle, as she followed Julie down the spacious aisle of the empty train car. The seats were leather and much wider than in Coach, with a single seat on the left, and a set of two seats on the right.

"My goal is to expose you to all kinds of things you've never experienced before," Julie replied, as she let Michelle take the window seat at the midpoint of the car, before settling into the aisle seat beside her.

Of course, the open-ended nature of the comment, and the memory of the experiences Julie had already exposed her to, made the young woman blush again.

"Good evening Ms. McGill," came the enthusiastic greeting from behind them, "I didn't realize you would be traveling with us tonight."

"And it's a pleasure to see you again Chester," replied Julie to the grey-haired conductor, who was looking like he had already worked a full day. "This is my colleague, Michelle Lynch," added Julie, "we have an early meeting in the city, and didn't want to battle the morning crowds."

"Welcome aboard, Ms. Lynch," greeted Chester in a very courteous voice, "I hope you enjoy the ride."

"Thank you," replied Michelle reflexively, then added, "I had a really great ride just last weekend," and immediately felt the heat rise in her cheeks, as the details of the ride home from Yankee stadium with her father the prior weekend flooded her mind.

Chester scanned both of their tickets, and Julie slipped him a few folded bills, and said, "Two usuals," before he exited the otherwise empty car.

A short time later, Chester returned with a tray which held two drinks, and a blanket folded over his arm. Michelle noted that the top button of the older gentlemen's uniform shirt was now buttoned and his tie was pulled up tightly. It also appeared that the tufts of grey hair that poked out from his conductor's cap had been somewhat tamed by a comb.

"Two usuals," Chester repeated, as he set a vodka martini on each of their tray tables. "And in case Ms. Lynch gets chilly," he added, as he set the blanket in between them, and enjoyed another long look at the younger woman's exposed thighs.

"You're a consummate professional Chester," Julie complimented as she sipped her drink, and smiled inwardly, knowing it was her presence that prompted Chester to straighten up his appearance.

"I checked the manifest Ms. Gill, and there will be no other Business Class passenger's on this trip, so you have the whole car to yourselves," offered Chester, as he placed four small bottles of Grey Goose, and two small bottles of vermouth on Julie's tray. "Will you be needing anything else ma'am?"

"No, love, that'll do," replied Julie, then added, "see you in New York City."

"Understood," replied Chester with a knowing wink, as he took his leave from the Business Class car.

"I thought the bar car was closed between Albany and New York City?" questioned Michelle, as she winced, the lurch of the train causing her to take a larger than expect gulp of the extra-dry martini.

"Rules are for the common and the boring, dear," replied Julie, while gazing deeply into the young girl's eyes, "and from the short time I've known you, I can see that you're neither."

Michelle giggled, somewhat as a nervous reaction to feeling like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car, but mostly at the emphatic 'NIGH' in the elegant way Julie pronounced the word 'neither.'

"So tell me more about your last little train ride dear," Julie prodded, "with the look that came across your face the minute you mentioned it to Chester, it sounds like a pretty juicy story."

"Oh, it was nothing," replied Michelle, hoping to avoid the topic, "just a trip to Yankee stadium with my dad." Then added, "I wouldn't want to be one of 'the boring'," before turning her attention to the passing lights outside the speeding train.

Judging from the hue of the young girl's cheeks as she stared out the window, Julie could tell this story was far from 'nothing.'

"It's a long train ride, so humor me dear," persisted Julie, "and besides, judging from that picture of the three of you on your desk, you father is a very handsome man, so I wouldn't mind hearing more about him."

Julie noted another significant color change in Michelle's complexion, even though her face was turned away, at the mere mention of her father. She reached over and tenderly grabbed the young woman's chin, and gently turned her head, until once again their eyes met.

"Do you remember that confidentiality agreement you signed on hiring into the firm?" Julie asked, and noticed the look of relief in Michelle's eyes at the non sequitur, and the assumption that the subject had been changed.

"Yes, ma'am," Michelle replied, feeling a tingle from the older woman's touch, and the twinkle in her deep blue eyes.

"Well it covers personal information, as well as business dealings, dear," Julie informed, as she gently stroked Michelle's cheek, and felt the heat returning to her face. "You can tell me anything, and it will stay between us."

Michelle just stared back at her boss and nodded.

"For instance," Julie continued hypothetically, "say you told me that you had inappropriate relations, like, with the husband of a coworker..." She cut off her sentence as Michelle's eyes immediately darted down to the floor.

"I'm up here dear," Julie said in a more commanding tone.

Michelle downed the rest of her drink, to build up the courage to return her boss's gaze. Her face held a look of remorse and amazement at how Julie could have known about Michelle's early morning tryst with her husband J.J.

"There are no secrets between us, isn't that right Michelle?"

"Apparently not ma'am," Michelle meekly replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

"So tell me, how long have you had a crush on your father?" Julie asked matter-of-factly, as if she were asking about the weather, while she refilled her seat mate's drink.

"Ma'am?" Michelle replied, more stunned than confused.

"Well, SOMETHING obviously happened last weekend between the two of you," Julie explained, "and the picture of you and your parents on your desk looks like something out of the Norman Rockwell museum, so I'm just assuming it wasn't your father's idea."

After a long pause, Michelle whispered, "it was mutual," while she wondered if someone slipped truth serum into her drink, at the surreal and honest conversation she was having with her boss.

Michelle took another long sip of her drink before she felt the tender touch of Julie's hand on her chin again, turning Michelle's head back toward her. Instead of those beautiful blue eyes though, Michelle saw the lavender eye shadow on Julie's closed eye lids, and felt her boss's lips touch to her own.

Julie felt the young girl go ridged as she move her hand to the back of her neck, and held the kiss until Michelle's lips relaxed and responded. Julie's tongue tasted the remnants of the vodka on Michelle's lips before it pushed into her mouth. Within seconds, Michelle's hand raked through Julie's hair and her own tongue joined the dance that was happening within their embrace.

Michelle completely surrendered to the sexuality and power of her superior, knowing full well that this was something she had fantasized about since the initial interview with Smith and McGill.

Julie enjoyed yet another conquest, even though Michelle had been putty in her hands from the start, and so easy to manipulate. She lifted the arm rest between them, and shifted her weight toward Michelle as an act of dominance, and also to allow her left hand to travel up the young woman's thigh. Julie was initially disappointed when her fingers met the cotton barrier of Michelle's panties, but the wetness of the thin material was an indication that the insignificant barrier would soon give way.

When the deep, probing kiss ended as abruptly as it started, Michelle looked up at Julie with a look of confusion and disappointment.

"Now that wasn't so hard, was it?" Julie asked in jest, an extra sparkle seemingly added to her beautiful blue eyes.

"Yes, ma'am...ummm...no...I mean no...right...no ma'am.", Michelle stammered, trying to remember what it was that Julie was asking about, still not fully processing that her boss's hand was under her skirt, resting on her panties above her vagina.

12