Helen gasped for air. She felt dizzy. But it would be her turn now. Tenderly she stroked Cleo's breasts while the novice moaned in the aftermath of her initiation.

Then Cleo got briskly to her feet and began to dress!

"But what about my turn?" Helen wailed.

"Oh, I'm sorry darling, but I just looked at my watch and I have to be at the short-wave telephone in ten minutes to call my office exactly when I said I would. So I have to run, but don't worry, sweetie, once we get to Buenos Aires we'll find a hotel room together."

Miserably, Helen said, "We have a turn-around flight. Fuel-up and return. No leave till New York."

"Oh, dear. Well," said Cleo, briskly returning to her shape-hiding tailleur. "Take care, now. And remember, I owe you one." She walked out, waving a casual goodbye. With her cunt burning and her head whirling, Helen tried to think. Let Cleo go fuck herself. Must be some kind of sex nut.

She, right now, must get the bed in order and return it to its place in the wall. And get back into her uniform. And get out of that Goddamed Conference Room One.

She took care of the bed. She gave herself a quick wipe down in the bathroom, then dressed. Then paused.

Damn, she needed an orgasm. It was hellish to get so excited and have no relief. Her cunt quivered. It begged to have its taut nerves relaxed.

Her still hot twat bothered her so much with its unrequited agony that she decided she might as well sit on the rug and finger-fuck herself.

She got her skirt up and her panties down and two fingers sliding slickly down into her ready and-willing fuck canal. With the first five or six thrusts she could almost feel her labia major and her labia minor and all the rest of her female apparatus sigh with relief.

And then take notice and get ready.