The Board of Directors Meets My Wife
By Wanderer
Janice helps the Board decide corporate leadership.


This is adult material. Please do not read if you are under age 21 or laws in
your country forbid you to do so. Any similarity to actual persons, living or
dead, is unintentional and purely coincidental.

Earlier parts of this story may be found on the Wanderer bookshelf. They
should be read in the following order:

Who's In the Closet Now? (Parts 1, 2, and 3).

We're Back In the Closet Again (Parts 1 and 2).

The Engagement Party (Parts 1 to 5).

The Engagement Party-Epilogue (Parts 1 and 2).

(You may have to look around a little on the bookshelf

for these).

5. The Engagement Party-Epilogue Two (Part 1).

(There is no Part 2 so don't look for it).

My Big Deal Social Wedding

Marriage Can Be Fun? (Parts 1, 2, 3 and 4).

Copyright 2003 by Wanderer.

Janice graduated top of her MBA class. She was straight 'A', Phi Beta Kappa,
smart as hell. This is hard to admit, but she was much smarter than I am. She
far surpassed me, both mentally and physically. But you don't go around
saying, "Meet my wife, she's smarter than me." You also don't say, "Meet my
wife, she's stronger than I am." So why did she pick me to be her husband?
Well, I guess she didn't want to put up with some egocentric guy who was going
to resent her brains and her muscles. It wasn't like some of those east coast
Wall Street guys were going to say, "Oh, my wife is so much smarter than I
am." I, on the other hand, even though I got my MBA, was from the American
West, middle class. I didn't have any grandiose ideas about who I was. Hell, I
didn't even want to marry Janice. I mean the first time we met she beat me up
(See "The Engagement Party," Parts 1 and 2, on the Wanderer bookshelf). She
beat me up pretty bad, but I liked my job in her family's company, my sister
had married my college roommate and best friend, Jim, James Pettigrew
Witherington III, who just happened to be Janice's brother, and I just
couldn't avoid seeing her at family functions. So when she told me we were to
be married I was really afraid of the consequences if I said no. I could do
worse. How many women can provide an around-the-world honeymoon trip in a
private 747 jumbo jet? And, besides her brains, she was gorgeous, and
certainly the best fuck I had ever had in my life, even if she did control
every aspect of our sexual relationship. I was just along for the ride-wild
ride. And even if she was the most muscular woman I had ever encountered, next
to my sister, that doesn't mean she didn't have a gorgeous body. Hour glass
figure, stunning legs, an awesome chest, all beautifully set off by the latest
couturier fashion. It was only in the boudoir when she took all her clothes
off that you'd be stunned by the enormity of those upper arms and broadness of
those shoulders, and when she got hot (which was often) and wanted it she
would sweep me up in her arms and carry me to our bed, and my position as
number two was indelibly impressed on my male brain. I think she deliberately
tried to impress on me who was dominant in our relationship. She didn't want
the male ego rearing its ugly head. But don't knock it until you've tried it.
To be held helpless in the powerful arms of a muscular woman can be strangely
exciting. She wants you. She's going to have you. You have no say in the
matter. You had better shut up and do as she tells you if you don't want to
get hurt. I get an erection just thinking about it.

So was it any wonder that when Janice left for the university every Monday
morning in the corporate jet to pursue her MBA degree, that I would spend the
rest of the day recovering my composure, and by Tuesday I was looking around
for a little ego reinforcement. By Wednesday I was planning how to avoid the
eagle eye of our French maid, Alice, whose loyalty was to my wife, having been
Janice's childhood companion since Janice was twelve years old. But it wasn't
all bad, the primary directive from Janice to Alice was "Attend to my husband
Frank's needs-any need-I don't want him straying during the week while I am
away at school."

Luckily, Alice had compassion for me and my situation. She liked my buns. I
liked her ass. Only problem: She was physically as powerful as my wife, having
been involved in gymnastics and weight training since about age four. And in
her own way she was just as dominant an individual as my wife, but she was
more gentle, thoughtful, and considerate of me and my feelings than Janice
ever was. Janice was used to always being in charge, everyone catering to her
every desire because of the enormous wealth of her family, whereas Alice's
father was the Witherington estate sommelier, and Alice had just naturally
gravitated into being companion to Janice, they being almost the same age.
Together they explored their sexual proclivities. They came to be more and
more close until Alice was Jan's alter ego. So when Janice was away Alice was
in charge, not me. Was it any wonder I had a wandering eye? Someone who would
say, "Ooohhh, Frank, ooohhh," instead of "Come here, Frank," "On your knees,
Frank," "Lick here, Frank." Just once in a while I wanted to be number one
instead of always feeling like a number two lackey.

Don't get me wrong. Sex with Janice was great, Alice was a fantastic stand- in
and even more loving, and my job as senior vice president in my wife and
father-in-law's company was fantastic. But I knew the status quo was going to
change. My wife now had her MBA, she was coming home to resume her executive
vice president's position at the family's Fortune 500 company, and I knew it
wouldn't be long before her brother, who was also an executive vice president,
would clash head-to-head with my wife over who would control the company.

And it wasn't very long at all. Two weeks after Janice resumed her executive
vice president position Mr. Witherington II called a family meeting. It was
Janice and I, Jim and my sister Maddy, and Mr. and Mrs. Witherington senior.
"Children," he began, "I'm tired. I've devoted my life to this company. Your
mother and I want to ease up, we want to travel, we want to retire. We've been
successful-very successful. We have nothing more to prove. We want to turn the
company over to you, our children. The only trouble is we can't have two
chiefs, and we can't decide who should lead the company. Traditionally it's
the older child, and traditionally it's the son, but times are changing.
You're both reasonably close in age, so we can't decide on that basis alone.
Jim is our son, but let's face it son, your educational accomplishments in
getting your MBA were adequate, but your sister was brilliant, straight 'A'
grades, Phi Beta Kappa. Who should lead the company? We can't choose. We would
be showing favoritism to one child over the other. We want you to decide
between yourselves."

We all sat there speechless, stunned.

My brother-in-law, Jim, broke the silence. "But I'm the man!" he exclaimed.

"So?" his sister Janice responded.

"But---but---I'm the man!" was all Jim could think of to say.

"So what?" Janice said. "I'm the stronger, so if that's the male criterion I'm
more the man than you are," she reasoned.

"But---but---but---I can't think of any females at the top of a Fortune 500
company. Well, maybe one, but that makes it 499 to l!"

"Well, it's going to be 498 to 2, sucker! What do you say, dad?"

The elder Mr. Witherington responded. ""Leave me out of it, children. I don't
want to take sides. Why don't you let the Board of Directors decide?"

Jim jumped to the opportunity. "Good idea, dad!"

"But dad," Janice said, the Board of Directors is all men! What chance have I
got?"

Dad responded, "Janice, I can't think of any other way. I'm sure you can make
an adequate presentation. After all, the Board of Directors is concerned about
the success of the company. I'm sure they'll put the best man---er---person in
charge."

And so a week later the matter of the successor to Mr. Witherington II was put
before the board. Who would lead the company into the twenty-first century?
Who would be the president and chief executive officer?

My dear friend and college roommate, James Pettigrew Witherington III, being
the oldest, was extended the courtesy of being the first to be interviewed. He
was ushered into the Board of Directors' meeting room and the rest of us sat
around in the waiting room, fidgeting nervously as we waited for some word of
decision from the twelve director board.

Finally, after a half hour, the door of the Board of Directors' room opened
and a smiling Jim came out, grinning ear to ear.

"OK, Jan, they're ready for you now," he said.

My wife Janice frowned. "Were they tough on you?" she asked.

"Naw," Jim said. "It was a breeze."

Jan entered the room and Jim sat down next to me. "They told me I was it," he
whispered. "They don't want a female heading up the company." Man, was I glad
to hear that. It wasn't that I didn't love my wife and want her to have an
important position in the company, but I had a better chance of getting to be
an executive vice president if my best friend and college roommate was the CEO
than if my wife was the CEO. My wife couldn't promote me from my senior vice
president position to executive vice president without charges of nepotism,
but Jim could do it without it being too unseemly, so I was rooting for him.
Besides which, I wanted my wife around the house to do those traditional
things that women are supposed to do, like supervise the kitchen, plan food
menus, care for the children when we had them. I didn't want her being top dog
in a big Fortune 500 company. I didn't want to be a house husband. It was bad
for my ego.

My sister, on the other hand, being married to Jim, wanted him to be around
their house more. She wanted Janice to be the board's choice because she was
an ardent feminist, and she thought it was time that women take their rightful
place in the hierarchy of corporate executives.

As I was musing over the situation the door to the Board of Directors' room
opened and something came hurtling out.

"My wife!" I gasped. "They threw her out!"

"No, no," my sister Maddy exclaimed. "It's a chair!"

"A chair with a body in it!" Jim said.

"My wife!" I moaned. I didn't want her to be president and CEO, but I didn't
want her hurt either. She was going to be the mother of my children. And
knowing her anger potential I feared I would catch the brunt of her wrath.

"The body is wearing pants!" Maddy said. "Jan went in wearing a skirt! It's
not Jan, it's Roger Waters, the oldest and longest tenured board member!"

Later I found out what happened from the Board secretary who was taking the
minutes of the meeting. Jan had dressed in her finest designer suit, a
beautiful Paris model with a rather short skirt. She figured a little feminine
pulchritude wouldn't hurt with all the lecherous old goats on the board. And
she chose four inch high heels to give added height to her 5' 10". She figured
that would bring her up to the imposing height of her brother who was 6' 2".
She was well aware that in the upper echelons of the corporate world physical
stature was an important characteristic of presidents and CEOs. And also
looking taller would tend to deemphasize the broad sweep of her powerful
shoulders.

Jan entered the room, a little intimidated because she had never appeared in
front of the board before. The twelve directors were all seated around a
U-shaped table and she had to stand near the open end of the U to tell them
why she should be their choice to head up the Witherington company. She stood
there feeling uncomfortable, nervously twisting her perfectly shod right foot
against the highly polished floor. All of a sudden her throat had gone dry and
she had trouble getting the words out.

"Ahem," she started, and then stopped. It seemed that twelve pairs of glaring
eyes were riveted on my very nervous wife, but finally she squared up her
shoulders and found her voice.

"Let me tell you my qualifications, gentlemen. An MBA from the most
prestigious business school in the country. I graduated summa cum laude,
straight 'A' grades. I don't know what a 'B' grade looks like. My brother, on
the other hand, hardly knows what a 'B' grade looks like, either. He got
mostly 'C' grades. If it wasn't for the endowment of the university from the
Witherington family he would have been kicked out of the school."

Jan warmed up to her subject and as she got more demonstrative she took off
her suit jacket. A collective audible gasp escaped the lips of the assembled
directors. Jan was wearing a short sleeved blouse under her suit jacket, and
her heavily muscled arms were now exposed for all to see. As she expressively
gestured with her arms her thick biceps bunched and flexed impressively. And
when she put her hands up to smooth her hair back another gasp escaped the
lips of a couple of the directors. Twenty-two inch biceps will do that to you
every time.

The oldest and longest tenured member of the board, Roger Waters, interrupted
Jan as she tried to continue her presentation. "There's no place for women at
the helm of a Fortune 500 company, regardless of their family heritage,
honey---," he said dismissively, as if he was addressing his great
granddaughter, but he stopped speaking as Janice circled to his end of the
table. She leaned over his back, nuzzling his neck, something that probably
hadn't happened to the old fart in fifty years.

"Sweetie," she said, "I'm my husband's 'honey,' I'm not your 'honey,'---you
chauvinistic asshole!" She grabbed the arms of the chair from behind, picked
up the chair with the venerable director still in it, her oversized biceps and
triceps swelling intimidatingly as the eleven other directors looked on, too
stunned by the aggressive act against one of their own to speak. Janice leaned
back a little so that the obese old man wouldn't slip off the seat, and asked
the director sitting at the other open end of the table, closest to the door,
"Sir, would you mind opening the door, please?"

Awed by the sight of what was going on before him, the seated director
automatically arose from his chair and opened the board room door. Janice
carried the director, chair and all, maybe a total of three hundred pounds, to
the door and heaved her burden out the opening. That's what we saw come
hurtling out. The directors were shocked by this treatment of one of their
own, and alarmed by the physical act from a woman who appeared so feminine.

Janice returned to the center of the room. "Well, gentlemen, isn't this
better? Now we have eleven board members, an uneven number, so we won't have a
split decision, we can have a six to five decision in my favor."

One of the directors seated at the center of the table found his voice. He
sputtered "Now see here young lady---." He stopped speaking as Janice
approached him from the other side of the table, gathered up the front of his
shirt and his tie in her hand and pulled his body out of the chair and half up
onto the table in front of him.

"Idiot," she said, "don't patronize me by calling me 'young lady.' Save that
for your grandchildren." Jan pulled him the rest of the way over the table and
then dragged his body to the door with one hand, and with the other hand she
opened the door and threw him out, just as she had done with the first
director.

Returning to the center of the board room Jan said, "Oh, dear, now we have a
problem, we could have a split decision, five to five, we need to remove
another member of the board."

Unexpectedly, not one but three of the remaining members of the board rushed
at Jan, screaming "Get her! Kill her! Get her!" Expertly maneuvering her body,
she managed to put a head lock on two of the men, using her right and left
arms, and for the third one she expertly aimed a swift kick to his groin. He
collapsed in front of her, yowling with pain. She ordered the board secretary,
also a female, to open the door, and she threw the two board members she had
headlocks on out the door, aiming a swift kick at each rear end as they went,
propelling them with alacrity. Jan then returned to the center of the room.
The third board member who had rushed her was on his knees, still bent over
from the pain generated by Jan's kick to his groin. She picked him up bodily
from the floor by the back of his shirt collar and the seat of his pants,
carried him to the door, and threw him out on top of the other directorial
riff-raff.

Jan again returned to the center of the room, brushing her hands together as
if she had just accomplished a job well done. "Now," she said, "that's better.
We have seven members of the Board seated here, and that's still a quorum, we
can go ahead on the vote to designate me as first female president and CEO of
the Witherington company. I'm sure you won't regret your decision, gentlemen.
As long as you vote for me," she muttered, under her breath.

But Janice hadn't counted on the opposition of Steve Ormand, the newest and
youngest member of the board. A young fiftiesh, he looked younger. Smart,
handsome, athletic, wealthy, it had been considered a coup to get him to serve
on the board of the Witherington company. He wasn't used to marching to
someone else's orders. And as a confirmed life-long bachelor, especially not
orders from a woman about half his age. He became very angry, watching what
was happening to his fellow board members. He realized that they were mostly
sedentary executives, of an advanced age, vulnerable to the physical
intimidation of this youthful and athletic female, and he wasn't about to
succumb to her bullying, even if she was the daughter of the owner of the
company on whose Board of Directors he served. It wasn't the first time in his
life he had faced a physical threat. In college he had been a champion boxer,
and he had won several Golden Gloves titles in his earlier youth. He was
enraged to witness the cavalier treatment his fellow board members were
receiving.

"Look here, you bitch, you've gone far enough. I don't care if you are an heir
to the Witherington fortune, and part owner of this company, and I don't care
if you are a girl, or a woman, or a female, or whatever you want to call
yourself. Get the hell out of here right now, before I forget myself and rip
those big tits off that outlandish body of yours!"

"Tsk, tsk, Mr. Ormand, Steve, Stevie---can I call you Stevie? Such language.
Only my husband can call me a bitch, and he's earned that right because of the
way I treat him. But you've never seen a more sorry person when I finish with
his punishment and he's groveling at my feet. Now, since you've called me a
bitch I think I need to see you groveling at my feet, too. Would you care to
come over here and begin, or would you prefer to rip one of my big tits off my
body while I pull your puny pecker, balls attached and all, off your body and
have them mounted on a plaque behind my presidents' and CEO desk when I take
over the company leadership?"

Well, nobody had ever talked to Mr. Ormand---Steve---Stevie--that way before,
not even another male. He was an imposing figure. Around 6' 5", and being a
champion boxer he didn't take any crap from anyone. What's more he was used to
women falling all over him. Money, looks, position, he had it all. He was used
to women groveling at his feet, not the other way around. And he was enraged
that a woman would question his puny pecker---er---his manhood. He lost all
self control at her taunts. He came up off his Director's chair and charged at
Janice, his fury and loss of control showing on his flushed face.

When Director Ormand got to Janice he was so angry he wasn't going to pussy
foot around. He aimed a solid blow right at my wife's beautiful face. A normal
woman would have been knocked out by the force of the blow. But of course my
wife Janice wasn't a normal woman. She had been trained in many arts of
self-defense as she grew up, the Witherington family knowing that they
couldn't protect her forever from external factors that might want to harm her
or abduct her to take advantage of the Witherington family fortune. A slight
knee bend and Director Ormand's powerful blow swept right over Jan's head,
just as a giggling Jan's knee connected with his groin. She was enjoying it.
She never had the slightest doubt as to what the final outcome would be.
Overconfident bitch. Oh, excuse me.

A look of surprise and shock came over Director Ormand's face-gee, wasn't it
illegal to hit below the belt? It used to be. When did they change the rules?
While Director Ormand was bent over, both hands holding on to his groin area
while he pondered this question, Janice found an opening to drive her fist
deep into his abdomen, and as his mouth came open with shock from the blow she
promptly closed it with a solid punch on his jaw. Director Ormand fell
unconscious, like a poleaxed bull. The big 6' 5" two hundred sixty pound
Golden Gloves heavyweight champion macho male had fallen to my 5' 10" spouse
after only three blows from her. Was it any wonder she scared me a little? I
think I had better practice up on my "Yes, dear, of course, dear, anything you
wish, dear," for tonight.

Director Ormand was sprawled out on the floor, face down, out cold. Jan said,
"Well, shall we see how right I was?" She bent over, encircled the man's waist
with her left hand, and easily lifted his two hundred sixty pounds off the
floor, holding the unconscious man's dead weight effortlessly on her left hip.
With her right hand she reached over and unzipped his pants' zipper, reached
in and pulled out his treasure.

"Oh, I was right," she giggled. "Look at this toy," she laughed as she kept
pulling at it and flicking it with her index finger. Just about this time
Director Ormand revived, chagrined to find himself resting on the hip of this
gorgeous woman as she idly played with his ding-dong while addressing the
remaining board members.

"Oh, dear," she said, "I think I've made a boo-boo. Sadly, five board members
have left already, and Stevie here would make number six, so that would leave
only six board members left for the vote, not a majority. So Stevie, I can't
let you go, I'm afraid I can't let you join the others. Do you hear me,
Stevie?" Jan said rather sharply, and for emphasis she tightened her left arm
grip around Director Ormand's waist enough to severely bend a few of his ribs
as she squeezed him up tightly against her own body.

"Y---y---yes," he mumbled. As Jan kept applying more and more pressure to the
big man's body he took the hint. "I would like to suggest that we appoint
Janice Witherington as the next president and chief executive officer of the
Witherington company by unanimous acclaim. All in favor say aye." And as
Janice applied even more pressure to his already bending ribs Director Ormand
didn't wait for an answer or call for the nay votes. He said "The ayes have
it." Turning his head towards Janice he whispered in her ear, "Now, please let
my little pecker---er---let my penis go, please, please."

Janice, who had forgotten she was dangling the director's penis in front of
the remaining members of the board, said "Oh, sure, sweetie, you've been such
a nice boy, I'm sure I'll be able to count on your cooperation in the future.
Thanks for your help today," she snickered. Then she unceremoniously dropped
the two hundred sixty pound giant off her hip, and he sheepishly gathered
himself up and moved back to his chair. No one spoke. They all slumped in
their chairs, fear written on their scraggy faces.

"Well, gentlemen," Jan addressed them, "I take your silence to indicate
acquiescence. In that case, as my first act as president and CEO I shall
instruct the secretary of the board here, Ms. Peters, to issue a press release
announcing that the Board of Directors of the Witherington company, by
unanimous decision, has appointed the daughter of James Witherington II as
president and CEO of this Fortune 500 company. I want to thank you all for
your confidence in me, and it was a pleasure to witness the execution of the
democratic principles of free and uncoerced selection of leadership as
exhibited by the Board of Directors of this company today. You are all to be
commended for the leadership you have exhibited. You are now dismissed."

Silently the seven remaining members of the board rose from their chairs and
obediently filed out of the boardroom, looking exceedingly crestfallen and
sad, to be followed by my wife Jan at the rear of the column. My best friend
Jim took their pathetic appearance to mean that they were deeply grieved that
they had to deny the presidency and CEO position to his sister and my wife,
Jan, but he knew that they had promised him the position. Jan must have taken
it hard. So he was somewhat surprised by the big smile on her face as she
exited the boardroom.

"Meet the new president and CEO of the Witherington company," Jan proclaimed
to us and to the world.

My friend Jim fainted.

Next: My friend Jim, James Pettigrew Witherington III, is outraged. He is two
years older than his sister and he is the male heir in the family. How will he
make things right?