Chapter 2

Cornelius always made an effort to talk to his driver because Harold had been with him ever since the dark days of 1929 when the stockbrokers were jumping from windows and staining the sidewalks with their blood. He swore he could see the blood several days later despite a concerted effort to remove the evidence of a failing economy.

He brought the silver flask to his lips to taste the heavenly flavor of the French brandy made by sheltered monks in their hidden monasteries in the French alps. The sharp taste was all he needed to brighten his day immediately and he looked out his window at the office workers scurrying to their mundane lives of nine to five routine with a break for lunch which was often just a brown bag from home.

Cornelius was accustomed to dining at fine restaurants for his midday repast and he would usually flirt with the pretty young things that serviced his table. He was not the party animal type in the least little bit. That was an affliction that his older brother Rupert had suffered from an early student environment that was more focused on pleasure than silly studies of history and geography that he had absolutely no interest in at all. The history he was concerned with had to do with female pasts with the total number of lovers and how often they had spread their legs for money or promises never kept in daylight or later reflection. Geography was only the shape of their backsides after all the clothing was removed and the color and texture of their nipples when the bras were discarded at the bottom of the bed.

The sturdy banker knew he had a problem with drinking, but his older brother was a confirmed bachelor and a full-blown alcoholic with a shorter lifespan in the offing due to his lack of concern about the consequences. He took solace in the fact that his own drinking was minor in comparison, although his doctor had warned him of the need for moderation at this stage of his life.

He sat down behind his oversized desk and studied the stack in his “in box” and the empty status of his “out box” on the other side. Fortunately, he really had nobody to report to since he was head of his department. Still, he had a feeling of guilt about his lack of interest in work ethic and tackled several files with pretended enthusiasm that his secretary knew instinctively was entirely phony and contrived to assuage his guilt over his lack of motivation to whittle down the stack.

The secretary, who was only recently hired, did her best to assist him in his efforts, but she knew his interest was waning just from the way he was perusing her perfect black stockings and her high heel shoes that helped her ass cheeks to perk up nicely in the rear and attracted men to her personal feminine web of seduction. She really didn’t want to stir up Mister Topper’s juices, but she didn’t object to his hand on her bottom slowly rubbing her softly yielding bottom with gentle affection like one would encourage a child to better behavior.

Marion was sitting in ghostly splendor on the corner of his desk and was busy stifling her laughter at Cornelius’s horrid actions that caused the secretary some degree of mortification at the humiliation. It was decidedly unwanted, but the pretty young girl was hesitant to object because she had only been recently hired and she was usure of her safe ground in her relationship with her boss.

Topper, of course, unchecked to this point, was eager to push the poor girl to her limits and ran his hand up under her skirt and touched her silk panties with his inquisitive fingers to see if she showed signs of responding with tell-tale wetness along her camel-toe to guide him on his explorations.

Not finding any such response, Topper, being a perfect gentleman went no further and withdrew to neutral corner and opened his newspaper to check the markets. His attached ghostly figures of Marion and George watched him with some interest because they both had hoped he would be a bit more aggressive with the employee, showing them the depths of the perversion hidden within his soul.

Marion turned to George and said, “Darling, I have a suspicion this one will be a hard one to convince he needs a little adventure in his life.”

George had a man’s point of view and told her, “Sweetie, he is just being a gentleman. After all, he is a good sort of fellow and we know he only hides his urges. Give him time and a little room and I bet he will surprise us with his urges and inclinations.”

Marion, who was unable to engage in physical relations with a living person due to her being dead, needed to watch her hosts or hostess engage in coitus to satisfy her need for ghostly orgasm, pretending she was involved. Her husband George had a similar problem, but he would sometimes go inside a living male and use his body to discover the joy of sex beyond the grave from time to time. He kept this hidden from his deceased spouse because he knew she would not approve of his extracurricular activities and he certainly didn’t want her using her seductive skills on any Tom, Dick, or Harry just because he was still breathing.

The secretary, who was bright, young and twenty-one had the interesting name of Veronica and she had the shining black hair of a nubile pretty young thing. She had no look of innocence about her despite the fact she had only been diddled by her older brother more out of boredom rather than attraction. He had introduced her to anal and oral love-making sibling style meaning he used her body shamelessly and she kept her mouth shut because she knew she needed to learn certain skills to survive in the man’s world around her.

Veronica had never had a boyfriend and had never even been out on a date with an eligible young man. She attracted the attention of middle-aged men like Cornelius because of her impressive bosom and her plump behind that looked ever-so-tempting underneath her pencil tight skirt that ended just above the knee.