The Silver Chair
Harlan Fennimore looked down at the two woman who had come before his committee. He really should be more tolerant, he told himself, but sometimes, it was so hard. Sometimes, there were people who came before him who were just begging to be used.
“So what you’re saying, Ms. Wiley, is that you and your friend would like some money from this city’s general fund to help fund your art exhibit.”
The student looked at the head of the Arts Commission. “It’s a very important exhibit.”
“I understand you might think so—”
“We have letters here from our faculty advisors at the university in support of this.”
“Yes, but if this were such an important exhibit, I imagine that the university would want to support it as well, and I don’t see them stepping forward to help out.”
“It’s a woman’s exhibit,” the other woman finally said.
“And the university does not have women on its campus. If this is the case, that is certainly news to me.”
Brenda Wiley whispered something to her friend before returning her attention to the lead commissioner. “What my friend is trying to say,” the woman said, “is that we believe this is an important function that should be shared with all women. Yes, there are women on the university campus, but there are women who are not on the campus and wouldn’t go on campus if there wasn’t a reason for them to do so. Having it in the city reaches a larger audience.”
“I still think that if it were as important as you say, the university would want to be a part of it.”
“The university is prohibited by its own rules from taking part in any off campus activities.”
So she knew that, the chair thought. Well, that was annoying, but hardly something that would change the balance on the commission.
“I’m sorry,” the commissioner said. “I understand that this is important to you but I am not inclined to support the motion. I would, however, be willing to support a motion to reconsider if I felt that the university was more involved. Is there any further discussion?”
There was none and Harlan Fennimore would have been surprised if there was.
“All right then, the question on the floor is should we support the motion to fund the art project of Ms. Wiley and Ms. Taber by providing funds and space at the downtown mall. All those in favor, signify by saying aye.”
Two commissioners gave their assent.
“All those opposed?”
Three commissioners voted against.
“The majority being in the negative, the motion to provide funding and space for the art project of Ms. Wiley and Ms. Taber is not passed. And now we will move on to the next order of business.”
Monica Taber went back to her seat even as the commission moved on with the next item on the agenda. “I knew this was a fucking mistake,” Monica hissed at her friend.
“Yeah, but we had to try.”
“Yeah, but we got shot down, and now we’re even worse off than we were before. Look at them. Two women on the commission and three men. The women voted with us. The men all voted against. I knew this was a fucking mistake.”
“You already said that.”
“Yeah well, I’m saying it again. Where the hell are we going to go now?”
“I suppose we could always try the university again.”
Monica snorted at that. “Right. We already know what they’re going to say. I’m not going to waste my time going back and forth between one group and another when I know damn well we’re not going to win.”
“Well, I don’t have anything better to do,” Brenda Wiley said as she picked up her things and followed her friend out of the meeting room. “Maybe a private source?”
“Yeah, and what if they’re all men?”
“Look, would you get off that attitude,” Brenda finally said in irritation. “You’re not helping us win any friends.”
“I’m not trying to win friends. I’m just trying to get the truth out there.”
“Well, we’re not going to get anything out there if we keep pissing people off.”
“Excuse me, ladies.”
Both women suddenly stopped as a young man approached them. He hardly looked any older than they were. “Yeah,” Monica Taber demanded. “What do you want?”
“My name’s George Armstrong and I am Mr. Fennimore’s personal assistant,” the man began, “and I’d like to offer a solution to your dilemma.”
“A solution to our dilemma,” Brenda asked. “What’s that?”
“Mr. Fennimore went out of his way to say he might support a motion to reconsider. I think you should meet with him and I think the sooner the better. I can set an appointment up with him tomorrow if you’d like.”
“What the hell would that do for us,” Monica demanded.
Brenda put a hand on her friend’s arm. “Monica’s got a point. Mr. Fennimore made his position clear. What would this do to help us.”
“They don’t call Mr. Fennimore the Silver Chair for nothing. He takes pride in being the elder statesman and he’s always looking for ways to help people out. At the very least, if he’s interested in helping you, he might be able to help you craft a position that would more likely succeed, and here’s the kicker. The vote was 3-2. All you need is one commissioner to switch over. If you let him help, well, you can figure that one out on your own.”
“What do you think, Monica?”
“I think it’s a waste of time—”
“Monica!”
“But I also think that right now, it’s the best chance we’ve got.”
“All right,” Brenda said. “We’ll do it.”
“Excellent,” the man said and in no time at all, an appointment was set and the two women went home with the hope that maybe this time, something good would happen.
Their appointment was for 5:15. After work was best, George told them. After work meant they weren’t likely to be disturbed, so after work was a very good time.
Shortly after five o’clock, both women were sitting in Harlan Fennimore’s outer office. “He’s still on the phone,” George said, “but I’ll let him know you are here.” The man disappeared into another room and then came back out a few minutes later. “He knows you’re here.”
“That’s great, George,” said Brenda. “Look, I really appreciate your helping us out like this.”
The man waved it away. “Actually, it’s not you, I’m helping. It’s my boss. He actually pays me to do stuff like this.”
“Well, I still appreciate it anyway,” Brenda said. Brenda looked over at her friend. “We both do.”
Monica didn’t say anything but she gave the man a curt nod.
It was a few minutes later and the intercom buzzed on George’s desk. “I think he’s ready to see you now.”
Brenda looked at Monica and Monica looked back at her and Brenda looked over at George and she mouthed the words, “thank you,” before she and Monica disappeared inside.
The white-haired man sat behind his desk smoking a cigar as the two women entered. He looked up at them and smiled. “Ms. Wiley,” he said jovially, “and Ms. Taber. How nice to see you again. I understand from my assistant that you wished to see me.”
Brenda and Monica looked at one another in confusion. They hadn’t been sure what to expect, but it almost seemed as if he were happy to see them.
The man noticed their reactions. “From my response last night, I imagine you expected something else, is that it?”
Brenda nodded and the man laughed.
“I wish I could say that this was the first time I’ve ever seen this reaction but the truth is it is not. I can make a rather imposing figure when I’m heading the commission, especially to persons such as yourself who want something from us, and especially when I am not inclined to give applicants what they want, I can seem downright mean. Is that what you expected to see?”
Brenda nodded again.
“As you see, in here, I can be myself. By the way, I hope you don’t mind the cigar.”
Brenda shook her head. Normally, she would have objected, but it was important to get this man on their side so she’d put up with it for the time being.
The man let out a guffaw. “That’s good to hear. Most people, they want you to put them out but it’s after hours and I do so enjoy them.”
“Yes, of course.”
“You know, when I was younger, I read a book called The Silver Chair about a queen who enslaved a prince with incense or something of the like. Most people identify with the prince but not me. It was her silver chair that gave her some of her power. I always thought it would be cool to have a chair like that. It was fantasy, of course, but I sometimes like to think that when I get my office filled with the smoke and when it hangs heavy in the air, I like to think that I have that power.”
Brenda nodded. She still had no idea what the man was talking about, but she figured that the best thing to do was to humor the man.
“But you didn’t come here to talk to me about cigars and children’s literature, did you, so tell me, why did you come here to speak with me?”
It was a simple enough question. Brenda knew that and yet she found herself unable to form an answer and when she looked over at Monica, she found her friend just staring dumbly back at her.
The man puffed on his cigar and he blew more smoke into the room. “Might I suggest a reason,” he asked.
Brenda nodded. Why was she having trouble thinking, the young coed wondered.
The man puffed again on his cigar. “I think you came here to see me.”
Yes, of course, Brenda thought. That was it. It was their project. “We came to see you about our project.”
Again, the man puffed on his cigar. “Project,” he asked. “What project?”
What project, Brenda thought. What did he mean, what project. It was ... it was ... what was it?
“What project,” the man asked again.
Brenda looked at her friend and then she looked back at the man. “We came before the Arts Commission,” she said. “It was ... it was last night.”
“Last night? I don’t think so.”
“But we—”
“Perhaps it was some other night,” the man suggested, “or maybe it was some other commission.”
“What? No. I mean ... I was sure ... it was the Arts Commission.”
The man puffed on his cigar. “Maybe you were mistaken.”
Brenda looked back at Monica but her friend was just sitting there. She was no help. “Maybe you’re right,” she said finally. “Maybe we were mistaken.”
The man nodded knowingly. “There. You see. It happens all the time.”
“It happens all the time,” Brenda agreed even though she wasn’t even sure what she was agreeing to.
“So I take it you girls are artists then?”
Brenda nodded. She now felt more sure of herself. They were artists. That was it.
“And judging by the look of you, I would imagine you girls are performance artists.”
Once more, Brenda felt herself becoming confused. Performance artists? No, wait. What did the man mean by that. They were serious artists. “We’re ... no ... we don’t do that?”
“You don’t,” the man said. “My apologies. I suppose I just assumed. I mean with bodies like yours, I suppose it was a natural. I mean, you must want to show off your bodies all the time.”
Well yes, of course, Brenda thought. She loved showing off her body, but it wasn’t like she’d show it to just anyone but that wasn’t the kind of things that her and her friend did. “We’re good girls,” she stammered.
The man puffed on his cigar. “Did I say you weren’t,” he asked. “No, indeed. I can tell what you mean. I can tell you’re good at showing off your bodies.”
Brenda shook her head. That was all wrong but it was getting so hard to think.
“I’ll bet you girls want to show off your bodies even more.”
He was right, Brenda thought. She could feel the need to show herself off. She ... she ... “No. No, that’s not the way it is. We go to the university.”
The man puffed on his cigar. “The university? What university?”
What university? What did he mean by that? There was only one university. It was ... was ... why was it getting so damned hard to think? “It’s ... it’s the university,” she said. “The one in ... the one in town.”
“The one in town,” the man asked. “What town is that?”
Brenda shook her head in frustration. “This town,” she said.
“I don’t see a town here. This is my office.”
Well yes, of course, this was his office. Brenda understood that.
“And I may be powerful,” the man laughed jovially, “but I’m not so powerful as to have a university in my office.”
No. She could see that. There wasn’t a university here.
“So if there’s no university, you can’t really be university students. After all, thinking’s not really your forte, is it?”
Brenda shook her head. That wasn’t right, only ... only it was hard to think.
“You don’t like to think.”
He was right. She didn’t like to think.
“It’s so much better to let others do the thinking for you.”
He was right again, but then of course he was right. It was always better when someone else did the thinking for her.
Again, the man puffed on his cigar. There was something about that cigar, something that was making her feel light-headed.
“You’ve always been more of a doer than a thinker.”
Brenda nodded. She always was much more of a doer than a thinker.
“That’s why your pussy is always hot and that’s why you’re always ready for sex.”
Brenda couldn’t help but moan. How did he know that, she wondered. How’d he know her she was ready for sex, but then why shouldn’t he know. After all, she was always ready for sex, and besides, thinking was so hard to do. She really was more of a doer than a thinker.
“I know what you want,” the man said. “You want to take off your clothes and show off your pussy.”
He was right. She did want that.
“You don’t want to think. You just want to do.”
He was right. She didn’t want to think. She just wanted to do.
“Why don’t you take off your clothes for me,” the man said. “Why don’t you show me what you got.”
There was something wrong with that. That was what Brenda was telling herself but for the life of her, she couldn’t figure out what that was, and besides, she didn’t want to think. She just wanted to do.
It felt so good to pull up her top and let loose her tits. It felt even better when she undid her jeans and pushed them down past her hips, and it felt even better when she stepped out of her panties.
The man, it was silly really but she realized she’d forgotten his name, but the man was sitting there watching her get undressed as he puffed away on his cigar. “There you go,” the man told her. “That feels better, doesn’t it. That feels better being out of your clothes.”
He was right, she realized. It was better this way.
“You like being naked. It’s so much better than thinking, isn’t it?”
“No.”
That last bit had come from Monica and now she was sluggishly pulling herself up out of her chair.
“Ms. Taber,” the man’s voice cooed. “You have something to offer?”
Monica was shaking her head almost as if she were trying to remember something. “We’re ... we’re at the university,” she said.
“Not that again,” the man said with a laugh. “I thought we’d dealt with that already,” and Brenda was sure they had, only something in what her friend was saying, something was ringing true.
“We’re in the Women’s Study program,” Monica said.
“Oh my dear, I would be surprised if you weren’t.”
He was agreeing with Monica, Brenda thought.
“Tell me something, Ms. Taber. I know you have to like being naked. I know you have to like it because it’s so much better than thinking, isn’t it?”
Monica was trying not to answer.
“Isn’t it,” the man added with a little steel in his voice.
“Uh huh.”
“But now your pussy is all hot and wet, isn’t it?”
“Uh huh.”
“You need to have someone take care of your pussy, don’t you?”
“Uh huh.”
“I want you to turn and face your friend. You too, Ms. Wiley.”
Brenda turned and faced her friend even as Monica turned to face her. She was not surprised to find her friend was naked. Indeed, she had no thoughts at all.
“Do you see your friend,” the man asked.
“Yes,” was the response from both women.
“You’d like to study her body. You’d like to become intimate with it.”
“Yes,” came the response again.
“You want your friend to take care of your pussy and the more you want her to take care of your pussy, the more you know you want to take care of hers.”
“Yes,” came the response from both of the women.
“You want to pleasure your friend. You want to pleasure her as much as she wants to pleasure you.”
“Yes,” came the joint response.
“And the more you pleasure her, the more you want to feel her pleasure you.”
“Yes.”
“Sex is great,” the man said. “Sex is the best. There’s no need to think in sex. You love sex. You hate to think.”
He was right about that, Brenda thought. She really did hate to think.
“Ms. Wiley, I’d like you to come over here and join me at my desk.”
Puff, puff, puff went the cigar. Brenda came over to where Mr. Fennimore was seated.
The man sat in his chair as Brenda stood there beside him and then the man was fondling her ass and sliding his fingers between her legs. “Does this bother you,” he asked.
Brenda could feel the man’s fingers between her lips and he knew he had to know how wet, she was. Bother her, she wondered. Why should that bother her, unless of course, he was wondering if she was bothered by the fact that he wasn’t fucking her yet, but no that didn’t bother her. She loved sex and she was sure the cock would come soon enough. “It doesn’t bother me,” she said.
“Do you like it when I play with your pussy?”
“I like it.”
“I’d like you to lie back across my desk for me. Can you do that for me?”
“Yes, of course,” she told the man. She could do that, and then to prove the point, she did exactly what he wanted her to do.
The man stood and he was letting his fingers slide between her legs but he wasn’t looking at her anymore. He was looking over at Monica. “Ms. Taber,” the man said. “Would you come over here and join me.”
Puff, puff, puff went the cigar, and like her friend, Monica came over to where the man was standing.
“Do you see your friend,” the man asked.
“Yes, of course.”
“Do you see her pussy?”
“Yes.”
“Her pussy is wet. You have to see that. Her pussy is wet and it needs attention. You do see that?”
“Yes.”
“It needs attention but more than that, it needs your attention. It needs you to give it the attention, it deserves. Surely, you can see that.”
“Yes.”
“This is what women’s studies means to you. To both of you, really. It’s seeing the needs of another woman and it’s giving her what she wants. You can see that, can’t you?”
“Yes,” came the joint response from both women. It was so clear when he put it like that. It was what they were here for.
“Ms. Taber, I expect you want to administer to the needs of your friend. Isn’t that right?”
Monica nodded.
“And Ms. Wiley, I suppose it would interest you to know that Ms. Taber’s pussy is in just as much need of attention as yours is. Would you like to take care of her pussy?”
“Yes.”
“Then I think we know what needs to be done. Ms. Taber, would you give your friend’s breasts a few, good licks.
Monica Taber did exactly as she was directed to do.
“And now Ms. Taber, I think Ms. Wiley would like to return the favor.”
Monica didn’t hesitate in the least as she bent over Brenda’s body and let her friend lick her tits.
“But it’s the pussies that really need the attention, isn’t it?”
The man was right. Both women knew that and there wasn’t the slightest hint of doubt in their minds. It was their pussies that really needed attention.
“Ms. Taber, if you would please straddle your friend’s body, then I think we can take care of both of your needs at the same time.”
Again, there was no hesitation. How could there be. What the man was saying was so right and so true, and moments later, she was straddling her friend’s body and leaning down to slide her tongue between her friend’s legs.
“Ms. Wiley, you can return the favor.”
As if she really needed to be told, Brenda thought. She knew what she could do and as if to prove it, she let her tongue slide up between Monica’s legs.
The man just stood there and watched as two tongues worked their way into two wet and willing pussies.
Harlan Fennimore stood there and watched as he puffed away on his cigar. It was clear that each of the women had gotten the other one off and it was clear that each was well on her way to doing it again when Harlan finally intervened. “Ms. Taber, if you please.”
Monica looked up to find the man standing between her friend’s legs and there in front of her was his cock. Monica didn’t have to think about what it was she was supposed to do. She already knew. She started to suck on the man’s cock.
“Ms. Taber?”
Monica wasn’t stopping. She kept right on sucking.
“Ms. Taber, please.”
And still, Monica wasn’t stopping.
“Ms. Taber. You need to stop.”
Reluctantly, Monica pulled her mouth back. “But I want to suck,” she pouted.
“And your friend needs to get fucked. Surely, you wouldn’t want to deny her that.”
“But I still want to suck,” she petulantly responded.
“Ms. Taber.”
“All right.”
“All right what?”
“All right. You can do what you want with her. I won’t try and stop you.”
“Thank you,” the man said.
Brenda moaned as she felt it, the feel of the man sliding in between her legs and then the feel of the man as he invaded her pussy and Brenda moaned yet again as that cock pushed even deeper between her legs.
“You like this, don’t you?”
She did like it, Brenda knew. It was what her pussy needed.
“You like all cocks,” the man told her, “but this one will always be the best.”
He was right, Brenda thought. His cock really was the best.
The man looked over at Monica. “Ms. Taber, I’m sure you would agree that there is absolutely no reason why you should not experience the same pleasures as your friend.”
Monica could hardly disagree with that.
“So if you think you should get your pussy filled, you need only ask to get what you need.”
“Please,” Monica begged. “Please fill my pussy.”
The man just laughed at her. “I’m sure you can see that I’m already busy, so obviously, I’m not the one you need to ask. But my assistant, Mr. Armstrong, he is standing just outside the door. If you were to call out to him and if you were to tell him how badly you need to be fucked, I’m sure he would come in here and fill your pussy.”
Monica knew what she needed. She called out in a strong voice. “Mr. Armstrong,” she called out. “Could you come in here and fuck my pussy?”
The door to Harlan Fennimore’s office opened and George Armstrong entered. The man still wore the same suit he’d been wearing earlier but the one difference between now and then was that his cock was hanging out.
He walked into the room and then he walked over to a corner. He picked up a stool which he dragged to a place behind Monica and then without a word of any kind, the man buried his cock between Monica’s legs.
“Oh yeah,” the woman moaned as she felt the man enter her. “Oh yeah.”
“You like that,” the old man said. “You like getting your pussy fucked, don’t you, Ms. Taber.”
“Yes,” Monica moaned.
“And you, Ms. Wiley. You like getting your pussy fucked, too, don’t you?”
“Yes,” Brenda moaned.
“In fact, there’s nothing better for either one of you than getting your pussies fucked, is there?”
“No,” both women agreed in almost near unison. “There’s nothing better.”
“Nothing better that is, except to have a man cum between your legs. Nothing better than to have a man show you just how good your pussy is. There’s nothing better than having a man show you what a good job you’ve done to get his cock off. There’s nothing better than having a man give you the ultimate reward.”
“There’s nothing better,” both women said.
“Having a man do that will always make you cum.”
“There’s nothing better.”
Both men stroked the two women even harder and both women moaned in response to the attention. Harder those cocks came and then harder still and then both men were grunting as those cocks filled those pussies with cum and in response, both women moaned as their pussies seized those cocks in what to them was their obvious response to the ultimate reward.
Harlan Fennimore pulled his cock free from Brenda’s pussy even as his assistant pulled his cock free from Monica’s. “Get them cleaned up,” the silver-haired gentleman said and get them over to my whorehouse. “I want these two to be there and turning tricks before night’s out.”
George Armstrong looked at the two women and he could feel his cock twitch. “Don’t worry,” he told his boss. “It will be done.”