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The Malaysia Option

An overworked exec's wife helps him celebrate a triumph.

I remember trying to read an endless spreadsheet printout.  The paper roll was draped over my office windows and ran out the door into the hall.  All the office was a buzz, everyone talking about the ‘Malaysia option’.


Thank heaven Jackie woke me.  “Wake up sleepyhead, it’s time to get ready for the party.’


I rub my eyes, squinting at the bright lights. Oh yes.  Saturday afternoon.  Tonight is the office Christmas party.  Another office function when I’m not supposed to be at work. When you work for Flexcorp, you eat, sleep and breathe Flexcorp.  And lately, I’d been dreaming Flexcorp as well, unable to find peace even in sleep.


I’ve been working too damned hard.


I roll over and out of the bed, and head directly for the shower.  Nothing better than a shower for a groggy mind.  A hot cup of tea sat on my side of the sink basin. Jackie had left it there for me.


Jackie shows her love in so many ways.


I don’t deserve it, not with all the attention I’ve been able to give her lately.  My dream job has become a nightmare; long days, power lunches, Chinese delivery for dinner, midnight oil, when I come home she’s usually asleep, or doing crosswords in my old flannel shirt. I wanted to give us a better life, and according to our bank accounts I have.  But I didn’t marry Jackie just to watch her sleep.


It’s been too damned long since I’ve held my wife and told her she’s beautiful.


I can hear her rummaging around her closet. She’s fairly fresh from the shower, and staring at three different dresses,  a towel wrapped around her head.  Aunt Jemima’s own bathrobe hides all trace of her trim figure. She smiles as I enter, but I can see she’s wondering why.  So I slip my arm around her waist and pull her closer.


That makes her grin for real.  “We’re going to be late.”


I kiss her softly, a lingering kiss that savors the fullness of her lips. And tell her I love her.  “Right now I really don’t care about being late.”


“You will later, boy scout.” She pretends to scold me but kisses me again, hungrily and then pushes me on my way with a pat on the butt.  I look back at her and smile.


I don’t want to go. I want to stay home with her.  But she’s right.  I have to go. The CEO will be there.  The Board as well, if the rumors are true. We may get to talk, Malaysia.


Time for a shower. I turn the water up high, hot enough to turn my skin pink and make it tingle. I want to feel the burn. Jackie shouldn’t have to put up with this, it isn’t worth struggling like hell for a company ready to exercise the “Malaysia Option”. But I’m the local-boy turned good, son of a pipe-fitter gone to Brown, and now I'm a rising young bean counter.  I’m the one they trot out to show the working men that anything’s possible.


The plant’s making money. I know this, I do the books. I get to see what they really make before the profits are shuttled to other, foreign subsidiaries.  But Wes thinks we could make more in Malaysia.  Making more is what matters, not the workers who make the money for us.  But I don’t get to decide.  He’s CFO. I’m not. It’s that simple.  


Maybe he’s right. But he grew up in Westchester, taking private tennis lessons. I grew up in Newark running a paper route and a lawnmower repair business.  His parents gave him a Mercedes convertible for his birthday. I rebuilt a Dodge Dart.   Malaysia. I think of Malaysia as I pass the razor across my stubble.


Jackie’s laid my clothes, a nice grey patterned suit and a maroon shirt.  Daring yet, conservative.  Exactly the image Flexcorp wants to present.  And I am a Flexcorp executive.


I can see her in the bathroom while I shine my shoes.  She’s left the door partly cracked. I can see her reach for something, and then bend over. In her right hand, glistening with KY is her favorite black butt plug. She hikes up her bathrobe, exposing her exquisitely round bottom, bends over and slowly slides it home.


Jackie’s got her butt plug in!


I can’t dress for a moment. I am hard, instantly, a huge tent in my boxers. What in the world made her do that? I’ve been working so much lately that we haven’t even done it the old-fashioned way for weeks.  But there she is bent over, with the black base sticking out of her bottom.  She pulls up her red lacy panties and goes on, adjusting her makeup as if everything is normal.


I force myself to continue dressing.  Why did she do that?  She has to know I saw her. In fact, she probably intended as much.  She knows I like to dress at the foot of our bed.  She knew the door was cracked.  She has to know that I know. She has to.


Jackie has plans for tonight. For a moment I panic, wondering if she’s having an affair. It would be easy enough, we have handymen in and out of our flat all the time, and she has a thing for tools.


Jackie’s got her butt plug in!


But no. She wants me to remember how things used to be before I became buried in work. She wants me to remember that my wife is not only beautiful, intelligent and loving, but a real, natural perv.  That overwork and the years haven’t dimmed her hunger.  She’s trying to awake my own submerged desire. And she has. I’m tempted to slip into the bathroom, lift her robe and give it to her there and then. But then we’d have to shower and restart our preparations all over. And people who don’t think office parties aren’t about work don’t know what they’re talking about. Especially now with Malaysia looming overhead.


The cab ride to the party is quiet. I don’t know what to say, and Jackie doesn’t say anything at all. She just leans back in her seat with an impish grin. I don’t want to talk about work, she doesn’t want to talk about household matters. We hold hands, and I can’t think of anything at all, not even work.


Nothing, that is, besides that thick tube of silicates stuffed all the way up her ass. Is she wet now, I wonder? Is that musky scent a whiff of her sex in the air?  How does it stay in place when she moves, or does her movements itself stimulate her?  So many questions, and they all come back to one thing, namely my wife’s need to be fucked.


And my own needs as well. The chairman will be there, the CEO and all sorts of company brass. I don’t want to them to see me with a tent in my pants.  I don’t even want to be at this funeral party. I want to be with Jackie.


The CEO’s butler is courtly when he takes our coats. I catch my breath when I see Jackie. She rejected both of the dresses she earlier considered. Instead, she’s chosen my favorite dress, the long sleeved black one. It’s almost obscenely short, low cut in the front, and hugs her body like a glove. The dark fabric contrasts beautifully with her pale skin and boyish dark brown hair. And she’s wearing a push-up bra that’s exhibit A for the proposition that B cups are perfect. I can see the other mens heads turning as we enter the great room, and I feel her reach out to take my hand. I feel taller and more powerful as walk in with Jackie beside me. She always makes me feel that way.


And she’s got her butt plug in.


I wonder if there is a dressing room, a  bathroom, anywhere where we could find a few moments of privacy. I shake hands and smile, but my mind is a daze, wondering about later.


We’re going home early tonight. I won’t be able to stand this forever.


Wes walks over and shakes my hand, winking at me, telling me everything is in order. Jackie heads for the wives, I’m pulled to a group of execs, all talking about Malaysia. The CEO is there too.  Wes suggests we delay the announcement until after Christmas, so the workers can ‘enjoy the holiday’.


Enjoy the day? Is that what you call consideration Wes, letting them run up a bunch of bills right before you tell them their livelihood is going away forever? You want to close a profitable plant; closed so a few rich people can make a few more dollars. Merry Fucking Christmas. You get a big bonus, they get their homes taken away.  What a great fucking humanitarian you are.


Pentium Penny walks over and the group breaks up as we all ogle Wes’s new wife.  The wives call her that because she has matched her million dollar legs with a $5,000 chest. Or that’s what I’m told it cost. Yet she’s sweet and blonde, and makes sure everyone gets a good look down her top. But I watch Jackie from across the room, joking with the Chairman’s wife.


Does Pentium Penny have a butt plug in? Does she bend over and take it, urging Wes on with dirty words? For what she spends at Bergdof Goodman’s she ought to. That dress cost more than a decent car. And the jewelry. Her earrings are small pebbles. I’m surprised her finger can support the engagement ring. When Wes finally dumps her for someone younger, she’ll be able to get by for a year on what she’s wearing. Still Penny does what she’s supposed to; leave the other execs drooling. At least until she returns to the other wives, most of whom treat her like dirt. Jackie gives her a hug. 


I’m glad Jackie hugged her. Wes is spoiled little prick, but Penny's only crime is using what she has to make sure her children will become part of the growing plutocracy.  She’s not so different from many of the same people turning up their noses at her. I can’t condemn her, not when I spend my days and nights working on Malaysia. I’m a bigger sell out than she is, because Wes is my boss.


Our chief economist Bob ribs me, and asks if Jackie is my wife. When I confirm that, he compliments me on ‘bagging a babe.’


Bob, you don’t know the tenth of it. But it feels good to have Jackie as the center of attention as opposed to Malaysia, or Pentium Penny. Wes squeezes my arms and suggests the Jackie and I join he and Penny for a weekend at their place on St. Kits.  After the ‘Malaysia Option’ is through, of course.


Gee Me and Jackie, Wes and Penny. I’m being offered a shot at Penny in return for Jackie. I have to admit that I’d like to know how that much silicone feels like. But that’s not what this is about. I see what you really are Wes. You want to fuck my wife. It’s not enough that you want to fuck my community, your own workers, and the United States as well, you have to screw Jackie too. By proxy, you want to fuck me. I’d like to say ‘fuck you’ to Wes’s face, but he does sign my paychecks. So I grin and say that sounds like fun, and he promises to have our secretaries hook up.


Gee, adultery by secretary. What a concept.


I drift over to the bar, and get a nice stiff Manhattan. I notice the Chairman there, sipping wine. He asks about Jackie too, compliments me on her beauty and my work, then points out his own wife, a stately white-haired woman sipping champagne on the balcony. They’ve been together 37 years.


Then the question comes about. “So what do you think about the Malaysia Option?" He knows who I am and that my dad retired from the Jersey plant. So I tell him the truth. His jaw drops for a second. “I know you were raised around here.” He wants me to continue, to see if there’s more than just the expected difficulties that come with shutting down the livelihood of so many.


In the beginning, I tell him what he expects to hear. “I was more than raised around here. My father worked in that plant for thirty-five years. Those people working there have made Flexcorp a lot of money over the years.  They gave up their nights and Saturdays when we needed more production. They’ve been loyal to us, and I think we should be loyal to them.”


“Yes, but the plant isn’t economic.”


Here comes the decision point, do I betray Wes, or my conscience? The decision is surprisingly easy. “With all due respects sir, that simply isn’t true.”


The Chairman’s jaw really drops.


“Sir the numbers you got in your report are correct, but inaccurate in that they don’t represents the Jersey plant’s actual operating costs. The Jersey plant purchases almost 97% of its raw materials, energy, and other supplies from other Flexcorp subsidiaries, almost all of whom are offshore. We do that for tax purposes, because those companies are located in places like the Cayman Islands where taxes are nil.  A US subsidiary ‘exports’ the steel to the Cayman group, which then sells it back to the Jersey plants at an average of five times the market value. Because the materials never leave the country, they aren’t subject to tariffs, but the money flows overseas where it can’t be taxed.  If Jersey actually bought its materials at the current market price it would have turned a tidy profit for each of the last six years. The same years when it’s supposed to have lost money.”


“What about the cost advantages of Malaysian labor?”


“The labor costs are lower, for basic labor. But we make test equipment in Jersey, fairly specialized stuff. There’s an alignment process that’s just plain time consuming and complex.  I looked at the training numbers, even when experienced people look over trainees shoulders, it takes about four years to get up to full productivity. Move the plant and we’ll lose productivity.”


“There’s no computer process that will align our equipment?”


“We’ve looked at that. Not to date. And as you know, funding for our own research in that area was slashed a few years ago." I don’t bother to add that research funding was slashed at Wes’s suggestion. The Chairman already knows this.


“So you really don’t think that we’ll make as much as we’re hoping for.


“No sir. I think we may end up losing. As you know, Flexcorp gives a lot of money to the current Administration, which is one reason the IRS has never looked into the tax shell games that we play. Jersey’s congressional delegation is mostly from the other party, but they won’t make a stink as long as the plant stays in Jersey. But if we pull out, you can bet the IRS will be all over us within weeks. And they’ll have the dirt.  Closing the plant will lay off a lot of accountants. And our friends in the White House won’t be able to stop it, not without covering themselves in dirt.”


“Which being politicians they aren’t likely to do. Can you substantiate your claims?”


I reach inside my coat and hand the chairman a CD I prepared just in case. “Everything is in there.”


He thanks me, then disappears into the CEO’s office.  I watch sipping my drink. He reappears two drinks later. The rest of the board follows him back into said office, along with the CEO. A few minutes after that Wes slides into the room. I put down my glass and look for Jackie. If I’m about to be fired, I’d like to dance with my wife first. She smiles at me, and I fall again for those big brown eyes of hers. It’s a slow song, so I can hold her close. Yes, that’s perfect. Feeling her warm body against mine, and her breath in my ear, her hips against mine.


In fact, I’m tired of this place. I can get fired at home as well as anywhere. And Jackie has her butt plug in. Why am I here when I can be exploring her? And so lean forward and whisper into her ear, "Let’s go find a room and fuck.’


Her face lights up. I take her hand and we head down the nearest hallway.  I’ve been here before, there’s a bathroom somewhere around here. We round a corner, my hand on Jackie's right buttock, right into a roomful of children. They stare at us wide eyed while Jackie ad libs something about the kitchen.  We thank them sincerely for directions and return to the dance floor. Presumably we can get a cab.  Get home.  Get to bed.


Then I hear a commotion behind us.


Wes stomps out of the CEO’s office and gives me a look that can only be described as ‘lingering death with mutilation’. Jackie hugs me closer, and returns Wes a cool smile. My boss gathers up Pentium Penny and marches out the door. I guess Jackie and I won’t be going to St. Kits after all. I guess I’ll never find out what Penny’s Pentiums really look like. Darn.


A few seconds later the office clears, and the CEO shoots me his own dirty look, if not quite so malicious as Wes'. Jackie notices this, and gives me a quizzical look. I mouth ‘later’ and she nods with a thin smile forming on her face. The Board members emerges frowning, but not at me. Something has just happened. I guess I’d better find out, though I want to leave.


Then the Chairman walks over and asks Jackie for a dance. I graciously yield.  He smiles at me as he takes her hand, and they dance away. I start toward the bar, but decided on a tonic water, minus the gin. I’ve had enough to drink. It’s time I took Jackie home.


The CEO shows up at my side.  “Well, you got what you wanted.” He sounds resigned more than angry.


I turn and study his face, trying to figure out what is coming next. “If that means we aren’t moving to Malaysia, then that is what I wanted, and what I think we should all want.”


“Well, Malaysia's dead. For now. The Board also decided we should put some more money into R&D.”


“How’s Wes taking this?”


“Wes is history.”


That piece of candor shocks me.  Why is he telling me this?


“How the fuck did a beanie like you know about that alignment thing?”


“Sometimes it’s a good idea to know which beans are magic.”


“You found the Goddamned beanstalk all right.”


“Do you think I did this to take out Wes?”


The CEO looks at me with an angry stare, and in a moment it fades away.  “No, I suppose not. Your old man.” He shakes his head and walks away.


I lean back against a pillar, suddenly thirsty for something strong.  And then I noticed Jackie coming toward me, grinning from ear to ear, hips swaying.  I wrap my arm around her waist, and pull her close. Her lips feel moist and warm, and her skin so soft. “I hear you’re moving up in the world.”


Huh? “Babe, I don’t really care. I think I want to go home and celebrate the holiday with you, and you alone.”


 “I can’t wait,” she says. Her voice whispering before she licks the outside of my left ear. “Do you know what I have inside me?”


Like I could forget the sight of her bent over the sink, inserting her plug. I am hard, my cock throbbing against my jeans and Jackie’s warm body.  We have to go ... now. I can’t wait. Then I turn pink when I see the Chairman walking toward us, with a couple other Board members in tow.


“I thought I’d let your wife tell you,” he said, with a naughty grin on his face. He knows what we have planned, and he thinks it has something to do with ‘moving up’.


“Honestly, I expected to be fired.”


“I knew that when you gave me that disk. I’ve been around long enough to know real anger when I see it. I don’t care what anybody else knows, particularly the IRS, but the Board needs the truth. And that’s why you’re in, and Wes is out.”


I thank them. It’s all I can think to do. We shake hands, and the chairman has a twinkle in his eye as we shake. “You take Jackie home there and celebrate for a while.  It will take a couple days to move Wes out anyway. Enjoy the holiday.”


I plan to. Starting now. The doorman hails a cabby. I look at the cabby’s license.  His name is Saleh, and he appears middle eastern, with dark curly hair, olive skin and a long, hooked nose. I can see him mentally undress Jackie as we get in the cab. Not that I blame him.


He leans over and leers, eyes lingering on her legs. “Where to?”


“Central Park North. The Landsdown.”


Saleh takes off, but driving safely, carefully, as if he wants to multitask.  Too bad. I want a real, white-knuckled New York cab ride. I want to get home quickly, because all I can think of is Jackie and what she has buried up her ass. I want a driver so distracted that he can’t watch the back seat. I want Jackie, and I want her now.


And she wants me. She slides in next to me and I feel lipstick on my ear, and then her wet tongue, entering. She slides it inside my ear and fucks it, she fucks it the way she likes to have her own pussy fucked. My fingers grasp her thigh. Her legs fall open, and in the mirror I can see the red lace of her panties, her brown bush clearly visible beneath the sheer fabric. And I can see our cabbies face, glancing as often as he dares, while we move through the city streets.


Let him watch. Let him take his eyeful. I want my mouthful. I cup Jackie’s head and turn it too me. Her lips are red, and moist, and parted in anticipation. She sucks my tongue into her mouth, and hungrily mauls it. I can feel her hips moving against mine, and as I touch her upper thigh, I realize that she is wet, very wet. She’s been planning this all night, and now it’s come true. Her panties are soaked, and they slip aside easily for my fingers.


One finger, two, they disappear up inside her dripping sex. I’m fucking her, moving my fingers quickly as she licks the side of my face. I can  see our cabbie driving reflected in the mirrors.


“Where are we?”


"Approaching 50 th . . ."


Not too bad a neighborhood. “Into the next alley, pull in and stop!” Tires squeal and Jackie’s moaning body is thrown against me as Saleh turns.  He pulls up near a dumpster and halts. I push the door open and pull Jackie with me, she comes, passively, her eyes aflame with joy.


I bend her over the hood. Her eyes meet our cabbies’. He is watching us, wondering if he will be invited to join in. I will allow that. But only as a spectator, a witness to our marriage. Jackie raises her bottom in offering, hissing out her need to be fucked.  She wiggles as I pull up her skirt, and she moans as I tear aside her red panties. 


And there it is, still insider her. I can see her butt plug in place, held there by its ring and wide base. Below it I can see the pink lips of her pussy, glistening. I unzip, pull out my cock and drive it home. Jackie moans, loudly at my entrance, pushing back at me. She whimpers with each thrust, for I am in no mood to play, I slam my hip against hers, my cock slippery with her profuse juices, as she moans.


Salah has taken his pants down, I can see his shoulders move, and I can tell he is jacking off. His eyes never leave Jackie’s face, and her shimmying breasts.


I take the ring on Jackie’s butt plug and pull.  With a pop, it slips from her ass.  Her backside, is open, empty. “Oh, Darling, I need it.  Please give your cock to me. I’m empty back there.”


The cabbie’s eyes go wide as I withdraw from my beloved’s pussy. But she is not empty for her fingers quickly replace me there. Her sex has done it’s duty, I’m slippery now, slippery and shining, and ready to enter her. I press the head of my cock against her ass. She whimpers gently, and pushes back against me, and I enter, going where her butt plug went, only deeper, much deeper inside her. 

    Jackie screams aloud as I open her there, ready though she is for it. “Fuck me.”  Her voice is hoarse, barely a whisper reverberating off the alley walls.  I must obey.  She calls out dirty commands, and I windows light up, and blackened silhouettes watch as I pound my wife. I am fucking her hard now with deep thrusts. Jackie moans with each penetration, and sighs at each withdrawal. The cabbie is jacking his cock hard now, and I can see Jackie's lipstick upon the windshield, little kisses on the glass.


And then I come, too soon, so very soon, my balls pulse and I am pumping inside Jackie, filling her backside with my long withheld cream. My cries trigger Jackie's.  My muscles spasm, her neck is wet I collapse atop her.  I can see Saleh’s semen spatter upon the windshield, with only glass between it and Jackie’s lipstick.


We breathe softly for a time, cuddling until my cock softens, and slips naturally from my beloved’s behind. She smoothes out her skirt, and with a kiss we slip back into the cab.


“Sir, I . .  . ?”


“Drive.” I’m in no mood for conversation.


“Yessir.”


Saleh puts the checker in gear and we accelerate forward down the alley. Jackie collapses against me, and I against her. Our arms fall together as we share the little aftershocks of pleasure. I will take my wife home and tuck her into your bed. And then I will take her once again, and then again.


I’ve been working too hard.

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