He watches her walk down the office passage and into his life. She's wearing a long dark red skirt and a matching jacket. Her blouse is blue, her stockings are black and the shoes are fashionably high-heeled suede. She looks amazing. She flicks her long blonde hair away from her face as she passes his desk and, as he enters her line of vision, because of the way she has moved her head, she gives him a bright friendly smile. As she walks on down the passage between the desks, he gazes after her at her pert rounded, unsuspecting rump.
He's thinking "Oh baby, don't you know that I want to...." But he knows that she doesn't. She doesn't have a clue who the hell he is. She only smiled just now because she was so nice, she'd smile at anyone. She knows she's got a nice smile and she's not too selfish to smile at everyone, to spread a little happiness. He feels morose. What chance has he ever got of even talking to her? Niceness like that is unapproachable. She's certainly got a hundred close friends and as many men to take her out as she wants. He drives his right fist into the palm of his left hand and wishes he is not so impure as to wonder what she's like in bed. This, of course, makes him think all the harder about what she's like in bed, and he drifts off into a sort of sexual fever dream.....
She stands before him wearing a black diaphanous negligee. Behind her, the four poster bed, overlaid with a white quilt, beckons him with its soft voluptuous appearance. Her hair is hanging loose, golden in the flickering candlelight, shimmering, a cloud of light....Her hands move to the swellings in the thin lacy material of her nightdress. Slender forefingers trace circles around the dark points at the tip of each breast, and the tips stiffen. They jut through the gossamer fabric, challengingly, though the aura surrounding her, from her golden hair and beautiful innocent face to her small feet is one of vulnerability and extreme youth. Her hands spread now so that each palm covers a whole breast. She squeezes experimentally and shudders, giving a small groan, as the feeling of this inspires shivers through her body like small bolts of lightning. One hand flies instinctively to the source of this shock, and as it presses against her soft, deep-cleft mound, the high hem of the negligee is tugged even higher, exposing even more of her pale thighs, even the soft smooth skin at the inside of her thighs, right at the top, just below her bush; and even that, as she begins to rub instinctively, is about to be exposed............
"Buckley! Wake up man!"
He was flustered, without a clue as to who was talking to him, what they were talking about and for how long they had been talking. There was deep tension in his groin, a sort of warm, throbbing tension, and his heart and stomach churned a yearning sensation of such poignant urgency that he felt as though he might throw up, or die, or ejaculate spontaneously at any moment.
"Uh?" he murmured, trying to prise open his eyes before he looked up from the desk whereon their blind gaze was presently fixed.
"Buckley, dammit! Wake up! Look at me! What's the matter with you man? Are you on d**gs?"
"I, uh, no, sir, sorry, something in my eye." It was Harper, Senior Partner....Bad!
Buckley leapt to his feet, thumbs in his eyes, rubbing frantically. He made no attempt to cover his swollen crotch and simply trusted that no one would notice. If they did, he trusted that they would not mention it.
"Sorry sir, I must have got a fly in my eye"
"Hmmm" Harper was not impressed, but he was not a bad man really. A little crusty perhaps, but his bark, formidable as it was, was a great deal worse than his bite. He accepted the apology and excuse without further comment, moving instead straight to the point.
"It's about this new computer system, Buckley"
"The InfoKing Office Star that they're installing today, you mean sir?"
"That's it...well we've got someone in to run the start-up program, or whatever it's called," he added warningly, sensing that Buckley was going to come up with the right word. "But she can only proceed from a certain point. Apparently all the systems we use at the moment have to be put on hold, or disconnected or something...?"
"Yeah...I mean yes sir"
"Well, can you do that? Disconnect the ah...widgettyflip...?"
"The Access X-Press Inkorp system that we use at the moment, you mean?"
"Yes yes" said Harper testily, "just take the jargon as read, will you Buckley? But you can do it? Right. As from now I want you to get on with disconnecting the ah...Axe Spreader System and help young wassername with setting up the Unkofig....ah....Inkofuck Stoffisar........aagh.....the new system, anyway, whatever it's called. Should take you about a day. Or a week. And wake up man!"
"Yessir Mr Harper. Ummm..."
"Yes man, what is it? Spit it out!"
"Eh? Young Sinton? What about her?"
"Ah, I, that is, she, um, who is she?"
"Who...Oh, I see what you mean. Come with me!"
He led Buckley across the office. In the computer room, she stood, watching him as he came in.
She thought, passing him as he sat in his chair, smiling up at her, "What a nice guy, maybe this will be easier than I thought. And he's good-looking, too. If only I could get to know him better. But I bet he won't, because he's certainly got a whole group of good friends here, girls too, and he doesn't need to get involved with someone like me." She tutted to herself fiercely for feeling sorry for herself. "Be more like him," she tells herself sternly. "Be friendly!"
She imagined for a moment the smile he gave her. It was a warm, happy, inviting smile. "Welcome to my world" it said. And she imagined what it was like in his world, how he would use his hands a lot when he talked and frown when she was annoying him, rather than just saying "Shut the fuck up!" like most men. And how she would tease him and tantalise him. Shaking her head desperately, she tried hard not to think about what would happen next, but failed miserably........
He lifts his eyes to see her turn back towards him, the hem of her negligee lifted an inch or two above the magic line where her legs stop being two and join, in a series of curves and clefts and curls and lips, to become a divine feminine one. As she turns, he sees her rounded buttocks, the dark and exciting line that bisects them vanishing as her side profile becomes apparent; and then the "S" shape begins to grow fuller as the dark blonde triangle of soft hair at the base of her belly swings slowly into view.
She sees him stand and throw off the silk dressing gown, its purpose of hiding his body redundant anyway since his prick, long, thick and hard, is standing out some distance from his body now. She sighs at the sight and, lifting her negligee higher as she does so, revealing her fine proud breasts with their, by now, rock hard nipples, she moves towards him. He takes the hem of the flimsy garment and lifts it over her head gently, before bringing his face down to hers and kissing her passionately. She can feel the hot throb of his cock against her thigh as her own boiling juices begin to flow freely between her loosening thighs........
"Miss Sinton! Christ what is the world coming to? Are all you young people asl**p all the time, or is it just you two? bl**dy hell! Yes...well...ahem, Miss Sinton, Mr Buckley....and vice versa of course." They shook hands, awkwardly, and exchanged smiles. Buckley suffered pangs of alarm as he felt his erection re-activate, and Miss Sinton flushed, pressing her thighs together beneath her skirt.
"Well, you don't need me to tell you what to do" said Harper impatiently, omitting to mention that this was just as well, because he couldn't have done, even if they had asked him to. With a walrus-like grunt and a sweeping gesture that seemed to take in most of the world, Harper nodded at the pair of them and walked out, closing the door of the room behind him.
"It's Stephanie actually," said Miss Sinton shyly into the silence.
"Stephanie!" cried Buckley as if he had been waiting to meet someone like Stephanie for most of his adult life and could hardly believe that his desire had finally been satisfied. "Stephanie! That's gre....ah, that is, ah....hi.....Hello!"
"And your name?" asked Stephanie a little shyly, five seconds later. She stifled a gentle chuckle. He was so sweet. And "so" sexy! She watched him shuffle slightly before looking at her, with a faintly embarrassed air, and saying
"Well Hi Nick," she said and then giggled, realising why he had been altering his stance and looking sheepish. He, also realising that he could no longer decently conceal his rising prick, not if she was going to be watching him, had half turned away in desperation, pretending to inspect the very uninteresting screen on one of the monitors.
She watched him, and he watched her in the shiny screen that he was pretending to inspect.
"Will it be, er, difficult, this job?" asked Stephanie, brushing aside a stray wisp of hair from her eye and admiring Nick's broad shoulders.
"No" Nick said aggressively. Then, realising how this sounded, he asked, stutteringly,
"Have you not done any of this stuff before?"
"Well, yes" she said, involuntarily pressing her hand to her tingling pussy as she felt another spasm of desire ripple through her. She thought that he couldn't see, but he could, watching her reflection in the screen, and he instinctively mimicked her, feeling the hard bulge of his fat purple glans twitch at his touch, even through the thick wool of his suit trousers.
And she, watching him, saw this, and in her breast there grew a strange feeling of unreality. She knew what was about to happen, even if she could not quite believe it yet.
"Err, right" said Nick in a slightly shaky voice, attempting to take control of the situation. "The first thing we need to do is close down the main network. I'll put out a three minute warning bulletin on everyone's screen and you, er, lock the door and put up the Do Not Disturb sign."
"Okay," said Stephanie softly.
Nick watched her do it as he sat at the control monitor with his fingers on the keyboard. He wished that he could do something other than watch, but he knew that he couldn't. It was not his way. He never made the first move.
Neither did Stephanie. Except this time. And the even now, before the storm, which was building in the static-charged room like thunder, she still watched. She watched him poring over the keyboard as she shut - and locked - the door. She watched him as she drew the blind on the glass partition that separated them from the machine-room. She watched him as she walked towards him; as he looked up and watched her walking towards him. A shock of understanding shot through his stunned mind as he saw her unbutton her blue blouse, slowly, provocatively.
He makes no move as she slips it from her shoulders, revealing a finely-wrought intricate black lace bra.
"Keep watching me" she breathes, feeling for the zip at the side of her skirt. It's cold in the computer room, but she does not shiver and her skin glows rather than puckers in the mechanically chilled air. She's warm with lust, in the grip of an unprecedented desire that was born of two watching pairs of friendly eyes and two freely given smiles. As the skirt slides to the floor, revealing a black suspender belt and knickers to match the bra, Nick slides his chair back from the desk at which he is sitting, and stands. He watches Stephanie as she reaches behind her to unclip her bra, but begins to remove his own clothing simultaneously. As he steps out of his shorts, she slips off her panties. His prick is standing up, bulky, hard, ready. As he reaches out and touches her, gently, two hands, one on each shoulder, she jerks as if electrocuted. Her own hands close around the rigid length of his cock, and they kiss.
On the shiny plastic floor, he slides between her legs to kiss and lick at her pouting pussy lips, teasing her stiff love bud whilst she contrives to fit a good half of his, by now, enormous tool into her mouth. At his signal, a frantic wriggling of his hips, she releases him, and he, no longer able to wait, slides around, rears above her and pushes urgently between her legs. She is wet and open and more than ready. The fat, pink, glistening lips that bisect her downy pubic mound part easily at the pressure of him and the round barrel slides in easily, tight and slick as the slotting of a key into a lock. As they begin to move together, tentatively at first, then with increasing abandon and vigour, their eyes are closed, each isolated in the darkness and light of their own minds. But as their cries rise jointly to a head, they both open their eyes, and when their nerve endings overload and orgasmic sensation cascades in perfect synchronicity, like water over a cliff, through their jangling bodies, they are still locked; together; watching one another.