Frank Poireau in the Archives

Frank Poireau in the Archives

Frank Poireau had found work fairly easily, once he got his degree. He had first been employed in his mother's native city of Ghent for a while by the consultancy firm 'Vandermeeren, Straetemans & Partners' as a financial adviser. But Frank found little variation in that work after six months. That was one reason why he resigned from VS&P and moved back to Brussels, the city of his student years that attracted him like a strong magnet for its freedom and bohemian life atmosphere that he had known there during.

Frank Poireau got a job as an actuary at Matrix Life Insurance, an American company specializing in life insurance for people who didn't have to look at money. The Belgian branch was located in the European quarter of the city, in the Rue Archimedes, not far from the Berlaymont building. Poireau mainly had two tasks at Matrix Life Insurance. Drawing up risk profiles of potential new customers was the most important. Therefore, he had an office with a secretary on the second floor of the building. In addition, he had to carefully keep the customer files in the archive in the basement and lock them up every day after work was done. Frank Poireau found the latter assignment somewhat inferior at first. The lowest employee at Matrix Life Insurance might as well have filed new documents in the files that were on metal racks behind the heavy steel door in the basement.

Later on, Frank reconciled himself with that part of his assignment. There in that underground space, in the silence and tranquility of the archive, he felt better all along. He was there alone at first. Nobody bothered him. He didn't have to worry about assets and liabilities in his office on the second floor. Even when he sometimes sat there in that basement lounging and daydreaming for hours, no one would point out his actuarial duties. Until…

Until one Monday afternoon, his boss suddenly stood in front of him. Her name was Thérèse de Clippeleire, she was a real Brussels woman, cosmopolitan, quadrilingual, and she had studied law, but not at the VUB like Poireau, but at the ULB, the French-speaking counterpart of the VUB. Frank didn’t know exactly how old Thérèse was then. She had never told him her age. If he had to estimate, he'd say she was in her late thirties or early forties when he started working for her and Matrix Life Insurance.

Whether Thérèse de Clippeleire was married, single, or divorced, she never told him. On the other hand, other MLI employees, especially the women, often talked about de Clippeleire’s status. They thought it strange that they didn't know the least about their boss as a private person. Some of those women let their imaginations run wild and gave the most bizarre explanations for the discretion Thérèse de Clippeleire displayed. Mostly, it came down to the fact that their boss most certainly had something to hide…

That Monday, Frank Poireau's week hadn't gotten off to a very pleasant start. In the morning, he had discussed an hour and a half with a Scotsman about a very expensive life insurance policy that the man wanted to take out in his wife's name. Poireau thought there was something fishy about it because he wondered why the woman hadn't come herself or why her husband hadn't brought her along. The Scotsman couldn’t understand that the actuary didn’t immediately want to present him with a contract and have him sign it. At one point, he had stood up furiously and had accused Frank of "yee fucking moron". Then he'd left, leaving Poireau with the bad taste of failure in his mouth.

When his boss Thérèse de Clippeleire came to stand in front of him in the archive cellar, Poireau first thought she was coming to give him a sermon because he had screwed up that insurance contract. But Frank was wrong. Very calmly, de Clippeleire pulled out of her suit jacket a 10 euro banknote and one of 20 euros. She put the money down on the desk in front of Poireau, without saying a word. Frank didn't say anything either. He had immediately understood what his superior's intention was. He only wondered how she knew what his rate had been at the VUB to show his dick to other students in the cafés, and also that it cost more if it had to be done for curious girls in private. Then he would charge ten euros to see his dick 'at rest' for five minutes, twenty euros more if they wanted to watch his cock erect.

It was as if Thérèse de Clippeleire could read his mind, for she said: “Surely you don't think, Frank, that we're blindly hiring someone here for a responsible position like yours? That doesn’t happen without first thoroughly vetting that person and exploring his or her background. That I know everything about you, that's not true, but still, very much, believe me! And now, here's your money. You come across the bridge now. Show me what you have to offer.”

Frank Poireau was sitting there in that cellar in his best suit, one by Giorgio Armani, with an immaculate white shirt and an expensive silk tie… He had no intention of taking his pants and his underpants off. Suddenly someone else looking for their boss could show up in his basement… So he pulled down the zipper on his pants and pulled out his cock through his fly to show it to Thérèse de Clippeleire.

"Beautiful,” she said, “even limp, your willy is impressive. May I point out that I gave you thirty euros, not ten?”

So, Thérèse de Clippeleire wanted to see his penis erect. Frank himself by no means wanted to start jerking his cock. He slid forward in his chair from behind the desk, spread his legs, and waved his hand invitingly to his boss. She came closer, leaned over his penis to get a closer look, then began to pull his foreskin up and down over the glans. It took less than half a minute for Frank’s cock to get hard and stand straight up.

"Jesus Christ, what an organ you have!” said Thérèse de Clippeleire. “I had no idea such a thing really existed.”

What was Frank supposed to say to that? He didn't have time to think about it. Before he fully realized what was happening, his boss pulled down her skirt, kicked it off, and straddled his lap. She wasn't wearing any underpants. So she had planned in advance what was going to happen in the archive cellar. That certainty was heightened when she pulled down the front of her white blouse as well. She wasn't wearing a bra underneath. Her pale tits appeared before Frank's eyes. They were beautiful, he had to admit. Round and with pale pink nipples, and they smelled really good too. Thérèse had probably smeared them with an expensive cream to keep the skin of her breasts wrinkle-free…

"Play with them, will you?” his boss asked him. “You don't have to suck on my nipples or kiss them. Just massage my tits, stroke my nipples lightly. I'll have to get really wet to get that baby elephant’s trunk you've got inside me, you'll understand."

Frank started stroking, massaging, and kneading Thérèse’s tits. She didn't wait until her cunt was wet enough. Immediately, she took hold of his erect cock, spread her legs even further, and tried to push his glans into her slit. That didn't work. Her puss was still too dry for that, and Thérèse actually hurt him, but Frank didn't dare say anything about it. After all, she was his boss, and he didn’t find it unpleasant to be busy with her well-filled breasts. And then, he became aware that she was getting wetter and more tender between her legs, hotter too. Frank gave a gentle push upward with his cock, and Thérèse cooperated. Sliding his dick completely into her wet pussy, that was out of the question. His cock was too big for that. But Frank was careful, and gradually he got deeper and deeper into her snatch. He could see from the way Thérèse's eyes turned away that she was enjoying the fuck as she gently moved her ass up and down while his cock gradually penetrated deeper and deeper into her fuckhole. She couldn't get his whole dick into her cunt, it was too long and massive for that. That wasn't necessary either. The careful way she moved on top of Frank made sure he wasn't hurt, and that she had no pain either.

Suddenly, Thérèse de Clippeleire began trembling like an aspen leaf in the wind. She grabbed Frank by the shoulders and curved her body toward him. He had to leave her tits to fend for themselves because she pressed them flat against his beautiful white shirt. She trembled and shivered for a moment, and then she came. Frank Poireau was amazed. After all, Thérèse de Clippeleire showed a lot of self-control the moment she had her orgasm. She didn't scream or yell, and she didn't spray pussy juice either. Frank had been a bit afraid of that. If that had happened, the trousers of his beautiful and expensive Armani suit might have been destined for the trash can. Only that shaking, and also a kind of sigh that came from deep in her throat, indicated that Thérèse was coming.

She looked into Frank’s eyes when she had had her orgasm.

“Now, you go ahead,” she said. “I'll sit on your lap. Try getting your whole dick into my cunt, but don't force anything. You could hurt me very badly, and that’s not the intention. My cunt should still be in shape to serve after today.”

What Thérèse said was true. Frank sat there and fucked her, gently, and she moved her ass up and down as he thrust into her. A few times she did show a grimace that indicated to him that he was too deep inside her fuckhole. But it didn't take long before he hornily pumped his cream into her pussy. When Thérèse became aware that Frank was about to come, she put her hand over his mouth. She did that to keep people from hearing his orgasmic cry on the floor above. Well, with that too, Frank Poireau was careful. When he shot his cum into his boss's cunt he didn't roar. He panted and he sighed, yes.

After his orgasm, he fell silent. Thérèse de Clippeleire stood up carefully and kept her legs apart. Frank didn't understand why that was necessary. Unbelievable, but she had also brought Kleenex paper handkerchiefs in her jacket. With her legs spread, she first wiped his back-flowing sperm from between her labia. When that was done, she picked up her skirt from the floor again and put it on. Her blouse went up over her boobs again. Thérèse also gave Frank two Kleenex tissues to wipe his dick.

From that day on, his boss Thérèse de Clippeleire continued to appear in the archive cellar every Monday afternoon, except when she was on her period. Then she skipped a week. Fucking her only happened once a week. It had become a real routine after a few weeks. Frank compared it to filling in a lottery form on a fixed day. It also turned out that his boss was actually a creature of habit. She never wore knickers or a bra when she came to see him in the archive basement to get fucked. She never wanted to do it any other way than the first time. She called that sex position "gironnette", (lappy), and that was the best name you could give to that position.

Frank sometimes felt like laying Thérèse on her back in his basement, crawling on top of her as he did back in the day with Classics student Vicky, and riding Thérèse in the position most couples use when they have sex. He never dared to suggest that to her. After all, Thérèse de Clippeleire was his boss, and she was not an easy woman. She did smile most of the time, except when she scolded someone. Frank Poireau didn't trust her fake smile. His impression was that she carefully hid from everyone what she was thinking and what was going on inside her. He wasn't alone in thinking that. Other staff members also thought that de Clippeleire had a fake smile on her face. But they had to take it at Matrix Life Insurance as it came with her. Her will was law in the company, and no one dared to get in her way. Now, fucking his boss once a week did have some impact on Poireau while he was working for Matrix Life Insurance. Most of the consequences were positive, but some were not at all…

© Robur Quercus 2022