There were licenses to apply for, construction to oversee, permits to obtain. Some days were good. Some days were complete cluster-fucks. Yet, somehow, the good days outnumbered the bad and the restaurant opened on a crisp autumn day, using the name Brianne had picked out, "A Taste of Italy."Marissa didn't want anything to do with the restaurant side of the operation. She was the (self-trained) accountant and handled all the numbers. Alan told her what he wanted or needed. She told him how much he could spend.They hired the kitchen and service staff a couple of months ago, and the week before they had a dry run for friends and family. It was a disaster. Orders were mixed up. Food was cold. They ran out of meatballs. The soda fountains wouldn't mix the Diet Pepsi syrup with the water and CO2. One of the gas ovens wouldn't light. Mr. Murphy paid one hell of a visit.Through it all, Alan and Marissa remained calm and everything got fixed (they hoped).This was the night of their grand. You like your bosses cock. Tell your boss how you like it!" He growled as he slapped her ass. He pulled her hair too. This one likes to be dominated was her assessment of her. This was confirmed with her exclaim of joy and the sudden bucking backwards of her hips "oh oh ohhhhhh Mr. Black I’m cumming mmmmmmm." she half moaned half yelled out loud. Thank god for sound proofing he thought. He felt her pussy convulse on his cock as she shook in the throes of orgasmic convulsions from the roller coaster of emotions to the violent taking of her from behind. He pulled out and dropped her to her knees and shoved his cock in her mouth. She happily started bobbing, skirt still lifted, thong still around her ankles, Pussy saturated with her own secretions. "You have two minutes to make me cum. Then regain your composure and clean up. After wards your to go change in to something presentable greet my clients and then you are to go take my card to Victoria Secret and buy the sexiest outfit.
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