Helping Hands

Finding a Business Advantage

Professional Women

When I was asked to speak to a professional women’s networking group in the nearby suburbs, I was a bit surprised. Ashley, one of the leaders of the group, explained that they struggled to talk about power and femininity coexisting. Think about it: we aren’t given a great many options by the “experts” on women in the workplace. Worse, these are usually other women who have taken their own paths to success and feel somehow obligated to share their personal wisdoms with us.

Some successful women tell us we all need to “act like a man” to reach the top. Yes, because I want to be known as an aggressive bitch in pants. If that’s who you are, great, but that’s not me and that’s not most women. Trying to be a man? No thank you. Even most men are the aggressive stereotype, including plenty of successful men.

Other women advise us to use our feminine wiles. Right, because playing into the worst stereotypes of our gender sounds empowering. I’m all for flirting and teasing, but I hate women (and men) who play games to get ahead in life. Be yourself, is my ideal. And find your own path to power.

After my speech, I joined several of the women for coffee in the hotel café. Rubber chicken lunches should be followed immediately by something, anything, with flavor. The café was decent, as far as hotels go, and I was able to get my chai latte. They even had clover honey, so I was set.

“Power begins with sexuality,” Ashley declared.

That changed the conversation.

“What about knowledge?” asked the rather meek Amber, twisting her long red hair nervously.

“Knowledge and skills are not enough,” Maggie said. “You need confidence, too.”

Jacquie, the other member of the foursome who had invited me to join them, shook her head. She was the cynic of the group, the one most likely to ask questions.

“When I want a dose of confidence, I jerk off a man,” Ashley said, without the least bit of embarrassment. “He gets absolutely no control over me, and I get to see how weak men really are.”

When Ashley said that, the other women in the coffee klatch thought she was being absurd. I knew better, having heard several women make similar claims about feeling powerful. Sex is power. Just think about what sexual positions convey about dominance.

“I need to take control with someone, and soon. Maybe I’ll fill the need this weekend.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Jacquie said in a “how much you want to bet” voice.

Maggie sloshed her latte, splashing it over the edge of her green mug. Amber blushed, looked down, and dipped an almond biscotti in a dark mocha.

“I’m serious,” Ashley said, sipping a double espresso. “I’d love to jerk off as many men as I can before my next relationship. Heck, maybe I’ll keep at it after I have a boyfriend again.”

Maggie shook her head. “Like a man would ever tolerate you playing. They can play, but we certainly can’t. We just have to forgive them.”

The women nodded in agreement.

“What does that tell us about our culture?” I asked. “Isn’t it a shame that we’re supposed to make men feel good about themselves, even when they’re total assholes? But that doesn’t mean we need to be bitches in return.”

“It’s not about being a bitch or just fooling around. I really do love it,” Ashley said with a shrug.

“Why would you want to… well, you know… a lot of men?” Maggie asked.

Ashley took another sip of her espresso and smiled. “Power. It is amazing to watch a man become completely defenseless while you bring him off. The moment he cums, he can’t think about anything clearly. You’re in complete control.”

“And that’s different from a blowjob how?” Jacquie asked. “It’s not like they have any self-control. They’re men.”

Ashley nodded. “Yes, but it is great to watch the complete reaction. Call it whatever you will, there’s a certain power in giving a tug, a handjob, jerking him off — providing assistance. I like the sound of that last one. Assistance. You really want power, stop just short….”

Amber exhaled, clearly liking the suggestion and not daring to speak.

“A bit of experience with this, then?” Jacquie asked, while pumping a hand in the air. We all laughed. Jacquie’s gesture was too absurd to keep a straight face. “Well? Answer the question.”

“Some.” Ashley shifted and thought about how to answer. “It’s happened a few times. I just couldn’t help myself.”

“Have you ever heard anything like this?” Amber looked at me, her eyebrows raised. She exhaled again.

“Yes. Many of the stories I hear are about women finding power in their sexuality.”

“Then why not be a dominatrix?” Maggie asked, genuinely curious. “I mean, isn’t that the ultimate power over men?”

“For some, maybe, and for others that’s mere roleplaying,” I explained. “To find sexual power means finding what you enjoy and letting yourself be that person, I believe. Be yourself.”

Amber leaned forward towards Ashley. “When?” That was all she could ask, but she clearly wanted more than a when.

Who can resist telling a good story? Ashley was going to share.

“I was in college, living in the dorms, when I first gave in to the impulse,” she began.

“Most of us fuck around in college,” Jacquie said, admitting what I could sense was obvious in her case. She didn’t lack confidence, not in the least. “It’s just sex.”

“No, this isn’t about physical pleasure, alone. It wasn’t like that at all, for me. I hadn’t done much before then, so it was easy to enjoy the little things and discover their real power,” Ashley response.

“How’d this little obsession begin?” Maggie asked.

In her own shy way, Amber motioned her hands for more details, waving for more. All the women needed to hear this story, almost as much as Ashley wanted to tell it.

Ashley shared the story of her first business venture….

Ashley’s Story

I was smart. Hell, I am smart. How many people actually want to be a software project manager? I love numbers and planning. Okay, I also love being in charge.

Anyway, I was easily the best math tutor willing to work with the jocks. I charged a bit more than other tutors, but I was worth it. The students I helped did a lot better. Maybe in a different life, I could have been a math or business teacher. How can other people not get the elegance of math? Especially athletes. Everything they do is based on geometry, physics, statistics. Sports are all about math, but apparently they aren’t played by mathematicians.

“What’s the answer to number three?” Eddie asked. He was leaning against the wall, his knees bent and feet on the edge of the bed.

I was sitting on his dorm room floor, my legs crossed with a book in my lap.

“You tell me,” I answered, turning around.

“Well, four x squared plus three x doesn’t even look like a quadratic thing. Where’s the ‘c’ in that?”

“If you had to add something to that to make it familiar, what would you add?”

“Nothing.”

“Exactly. A is four, b is three, and c is zero. Nothing. That gives you the values to solve the problem.”

Eddie went to work, sighing and getting frustrated. We had been studying for two hours, but it wasn’t until that moment that I realized I could see up the legs of Eddie’s blue gym shorts. He wasn’t wearing anything underneath. His dick was hanging there, along with his balls. I was a little stunned at first, even embarrassed, but he couldn’t see over the math book. Tutoring Eddie was okay, but this made it a lot more interesting. I decided to turn around and work with a much better view.

“I’m still struggling with this quadratic thing. I’m getting negative 0.75.”

“And? There are two values for x.”

“Damn,” Eddie sputtered and went back to find nothing. That’s a little math humor. “Sorry this is taking so long.”

There was no complaint from me. I was more than happy to help for as long as this took. Pondering his dick made me quite content to help him beyond our agreed upon time. Eddie crossed his legs and leaned forward, putting his book between us.

“Can you explain this one?”

His shorts had ridden up when he cross his legs. Eddie’s dick was just shy of sticking out the left side of his shorts. He couldn’t help but realize I was staring.

“Oh, hell,” he managed to say and shifted, embarrassed. “Sorry.” He shook his head. “Man, the last thing I need is anyone telling the coach I harassed you or something.”

I didn’t say anything. I leaned my head down on his right knee and slid my right hand into his shorts. I grabbed his dick and held it, feeling his pulse.

“What are you doing?” Eddie finally managed to ask.

“Not filing a report, obviously.”

Eddie swallowed, his mouth dry from nerves. I was in control thanks to his fear that I might tell someone he started things. “Well, yeah, okay, but what are you doing?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I just really wanted to grab your dick.”

I teased the head of his dick, watching it grow. I rolled my finger across a bead of clear cum, and then moved my finger along the seam of his dick.

Eddie sighed before leaning back against the cinderblock wall and closing his eyes.

When there was enough cum, I made a broken ring with my thumb and forefinger and moved them up and down his dick. He let me play for a long time, teasing and stroking right up until I knew he was about to cum all over the bed.

“Why’d you stop?” he protested.

“You want me to finish that?”

He nodded emphatically. A scheme had already entered my mind.

“Get an 80 percent or better on the math quiz, and I’ll finish you next week.”

“Really? A ‘B’ or better?” Eddie protested.

“Yep. Anything less, no touching. So I know you’ll get at least a B on that quiz, right?”

He nodded again and looked down at his books.

“Shit, I have to study all week.”

“Well, you don’t need me to finish you.”

“Yeah, but its never felt like that. You’re smart about a lot of things!”

I thanked Eddie for the compliment. We resumed working for an extra hour. He was going to work harder than he had all semester to get that B on a math quiz. Eddie asked if I might be available for two additional sessions that week. I reminded him they would be all work, no play.

During our next two sessions, Eddie was the most focused he’d ever been. He was all work, just as I had said our sessions would be. For the first time since working with him, Eddie had read and re-read the chapters. He had done the exercises and even located study guides.

“I’m getting the whole a, b, c thing. Just put them into the equation and solve for x. But why? Why do we need to solve for x? What the hell is all this stuff for?” Eddie asked during our last session of the week.

“Babylonians used quadratic equations to calculate how much a field could produce. Greeks learned you could use the quadratic to analyze patterns in nature and design. The parabola of the quadratic guides us towards cones, which are used in science and engineering. Throw a ball in the air and that arc is a quadratic equation. If you want to work in business, understanding something like this leads to a better understanding of data models and predicting markets. That’s just some of what this math is for. It’s beautiful.”

And then I saw his dick was twitching in his shorts. My passion for math had apparently turned on poor Eddie. Math had just become very sexy to me, too. I couldn’t wait to get back to my room and think about spaces being filled. Oh, did I want to grab that dick and stroke it. Instead, I played with a vibrator when I knew my roommate wasn’t going to be around for a few hours. Math and science applied to technology. And a good orgasm.

The next Tuesday night, we met for our scheduled session in his dorm room. We spent the first half hour discussing the problems that had stumped him on the math quiz Monday morning. He genuinely was eager to learn what had stumped him so he’d do better on the midterm.

“I really can’t thank you enough,” Eddie finally offered.

“You pay me to tutor you,” I reminded him.

“Yeah, but I’m learning what I wasn’t getting in the lectures. The TA is useless compared to you.”

I dreaded the question I had to ask, anxiety causing my heart to race. After guiding Eddie through a few problems he missed, I asked, “What was your score on the quiz?”

“There were only 20 questions,” he began, with a hint of resignation. “I managed to get 16 right. Best I’ve done so far.”

“That’s exactly 80 percent,” I beamed. “Great job!”

“And you don’t have to — ”

Too late. I was already pulling out his dick and teasing it hard. He dangled his legs from the bed, on either side of me, and I positioned myself on the floor right before him. I teased his dick until there was enough cum to start stroking. Eddie started to lean back to enjoy his reward, but I stopped him.

“Lean forward,” I suggested, “and look down.”

I was wearing a loose tank top and running shorts. No bra, but I did have on panties. He stared down at my little, flat titties. He squirmed. I couldn’t resist a bit more teasing. I reached down with my free hand and pulled the elastic bands of the shorts and the panties, so Eddie could see my trimmed pussy. I gripped his hard dick even tighter, making him squirm.

“You have a towel or something?” I asked. “We’re going to make a mess. We’ll need to clean up after this.”

“In my gym bag.”

“Good.”

Eddie leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. He had to be thinking about my tits and pussy. I pumped and pumped. As he neared orgasm, I cupped a hand over his dick’s head and stroked with the other. His warm, thick cum shot into my palm. I kept teasing, using the cum for easier stroking. You could smell his body, and I did briefly consider doing more. But I stopped.

I got up and took a hand towel from his gym bag. I wiped us both clean and sat down on the bed next to him.

“Eddie, you get an A on the midterm, I’ll do that again.”

“Serious?”

“Absolutely.”

By the end of the week, I had more tutoring clients than I probably should have accepted. Most were male jocks, but a few were also women. One of the women track stars told me that anyone who could help Eddie and the other guys had to have some special magic. It would be a few months before I admitted to her that the rumors of tutoring with happy endings were somewhat true, though a bit more complex than just giving handjobs to every guy I tutored. The guys had to earn those.

Not every guy even wanted to play. Some of the them, like the women, cared only about the tutoring. That was a nice compliment, but I was always a little disappointed, too. I could tell by whether or not they “accidentally” let me see their dicks. I told Eddie that would be a good way to signal what they would allow.

I got to see and play with tiny dicks, big digs, long dicks, short dicks. Oh, it was a wonderful year. The tutoring business was so busy that I almost fell behind in my own classes. Almost, but I knew when to start turning business away. Knowing your limits is a good thing.

The week before spring finals, I went to Eddie’s dorm room for our last tutoring session. Inside, seated on the bed next to him was his girlfriend. I don’t even recall her name, though I probably should. She wore a gray and crimson shirt with “Fight On!” across the chest. She had perfect blonde hair, perfect skin, perfect breasts, perfect everything.

Eddie introduced us and I sat down on the floor. She nudged Eddie and they both joined me.

“Look, I know what you’ve been doing for Eddie.”

I nodded, slowly, cautiously, hoping she meant the tutoring.

“I tried to tell her I’m sorry,” Eddie blurted out, sounding pretty small.

The knot that appeared in my stomach, I remember that even if I don’t remember her name — the her that was staring at me, sitting across from me on the floor of that dorm room. I waited for her to scream at me or whatever she was going to do.

“I never thought Eddie would make the dean’s list. But he did. And he actually gets math, which I was sure was impossible. He might even get a business degree after all, which is great because he sure as hell isn’t headed for the pros.”

“Come on!” Eddie protested. “I could still be a utility player.”

“No, babe. Not going to happen after the season you had.” She placed a hand on his knee and shook her head. Looking at me, she asked, “What gave you the idea?”

“I don’t know. I just saw it and knew I wanted to touch Eddie.”

She shrugged, turned, and kissed her boyfriend on the cheek. Then, she reached down, undid the string tie of the waistband of his sweats, grabbed his dick, and pulled it out. Eddie got hard immediately.

“It is nice,” she agreed. “You can pretty much get a man to do anything if you know how to play it right.”

“That’s what I’ve discovered,” I replied.

“You want to give him one last handjob?” she asked.

“I don’t know. Has he earned it?”

“I can see why you were so effective.” She laughed, not a girlish giggle, but a solid and honest laugh. “Maybe not. I’ll go ahead and do it, if that’s okay with you.”

She teased and played with his dick, asserting her control over Eddie.

“Eddie says you want to be in some sort of business management?” she asked casually, while giving her boyfriend and handjob.

“Yes. Project management. I love being in charge of things,” I confessed.

We talked for several minutes. And then, Eddie came all over. It was pretty damn thrilling, yet neither of us women let him in on how exciting it was for each of us. She stood, found one of his towels, wiped her hands, and then tossed the towel to Eddie.

“You need to get cleaned up before Ashley gives you a last tutoring session.” With that, she left the room.

Leading Men

“Power and control, ladies,” Ashley summed up her experience. “And I miss that feeling sometimes.”

“But that power started with having special knowledge,” Amber reminded us. “Without your math skills, there wouldn’t have been the opportunity to… you know. Have power.”

“And it took confidence,” Maggie offered.

“Oh, sure, it took knowledge and confidence,” Jacquie acknowledged, “but it was still a man. They are as simple as their biology. Get a man off and he keeps coming back for more.”

We all laughed at that basic truth. Men can be easy to control, if you take some initiative.