Assistant

He looked at her on the plane, wondering if she really was as petrified as she had told him. She was hiding it, but only barely. He called the stewardess over and ordered her a drink. She was so scared she didn't notice it was for her until he touched her hand and placed it there.

"You look like a ghost. Drink this."

"Yes, Sir." She swallowed it down somehow, and tried to forget that she was on a plane.

When they landed, she followed him through the terminal, ignoring the pain of keeping up. He outpaced her eventually, and stopped, turning to look at her. She froze. He cocked his head to one side, and said "Not much further." With a brusque turn, he sauntered off again. The luggage was picked up, they went to the curb where a car was waiting.

The driver opened the door for her, but she waited until he was seated, then got in with her back to the front of the car. After the driver closed the door, she slowly shifted and scooted until her skirt was around her waist. He glanced at her, and then at his watch. "Go." She parted her legs and began rubbing herself, eyes on him, trying very hard not to be obvious to the driver. As she became more aroused, her face flushed, and she began to bite her lip hard so that she could be quiet.

Her pussy was swollen and throbbing, leaking steadily onto the seat. She put her fingers in her mouth to taste. His eyes narrowed, and he said that she better not come. Mewing in her throat, she stopped on the very brink and froze. He looked back out the window.

After the near riot between her legs calmed down she grew aware that the car was stopped. She eased down her skirt just as the door opened, and waited for him to get out. He reached back to hand her out. The concierge was all fuss and bother upon their arrival, and forever altered her mental image of the word obsequious. Their party was waiting in the bar, if there were any problem with the room, if there was anything with which he might need assistance...she stole a glance up at his face. He looked mildly bemused.

She followed him into the bar. The gentleman they were there to meet stood and said "Oh, I didn't realize you were bringing anyone, I'm sorry." "No need, this is my assistant." She sat down, pulled her laptop out of her bag, and began to take notes. He cleared his throat. She snapped up and looked at his face. He was not happy. She couldn't fathom what she had forgotten, and was certain she was looking at him with plainly moronic innocence. He frowned. She didn't like that, and her mind ticked through the list of things he'd given her in a blinding hurry. Suddenly she realized she hadn't pushed up her skirt when she sat.

The tablecloth was only mid-length, so she started rocking from one side to another to try to ease it up without being noticed. Accomplishing that, she glanced up at him again. He nodded slightly and smiled as their conversation continued. She was certain the other gentleman was completely oblivious to her mistake, and the subsequent correction.

He ordered dinner for them without asking her what she wanted. This caused a slight pause for thought in the gentleman across the table, but he was further mystified when the meal came, and she didn't touch it. After he had encouraged her to eat, her supervisor replied for her that she could eat when she was finished with the document. The gentleman openly stared at her now, and while she didn't look up, she turned beet red, and kept typing.

She finished about two drinks after their dinner, saved the file and emailed it to him. When his phone notified him, he looked at her and said she could go wash her hands and not to take too long. The skirt, thankfully, was long and weighty enough that it fell as she slid off the chair and stood.

In the bathroom, she furiously rubbed her painful clit, biting back a scream as she touched it. Oh that wouldn't do, to fuck herself...he'd be very angry at that. She tried to stop, but it just felt so good. It's not like she had a choice really. She needed it. Suddenly the idea dawned on her that disappointing him wasn't what she wanted, and it would very much disappoint him. He'd made it very clear.

With great effort, she stopped and gingerly dabbed herself as gently as she could so it wouldn't start all over again. Checking her hair, she splashed cold water on her face, smoothed it back into the clip, cleaned her glasses, and adjusted her blouse after washing her hands.

"Did you wash your hands?" "Yes Sir." "Let me see." She held her hands out. He looked at them, and his eyes narrowed as his gaze ground onto her face. "They're clean. Eat." She sat back down, and gracefully eased up her skirt, but the tablecloth didn't quite meet before she moved the chair up, and for a brief second, their companion saw her stockings and bare pussy. At this, the stranger's mouth dropped open, but quickly shut. She ate her dinner quietly as they talked.

When she finished, she placed her napkin back on the table. When he noticed, he told her to go to the room, because they were going to go out for a bit, but that it wouldn't be long, and to be ready to work when they arrived back. She nodded, and stood to leave as the gentleman stood as well. She could see, plainly, that he was fully aroused, although she was certain it wasn't due to anything she had caused. Perhaps he had his eye on one of the waitresses. The guest quickly sat back down but as she stood beside her boss, he slowly slid his hand up the inside of her thigh from the back.

Unthinking, she put her hand on his shoulder for balance and spread her legs. They continued to talk politely as she stood, trying very hard not to move against his insistent fingers as they rubbed her. She knew his guest couldn't see that his fingers were thrusting in and out of her. Her legs started twitching, and she knew he could feel it. He kept on talking to his guest, making her clit ache even more. The guest's eyes grew wider as her own narrowed. She knew that even though she was doing her best to look like a mannequin, her flush and trembles were obvious to anyone who was paying attention. The guest was now paying undivided attention.

She felt it starting and cleared her throat, steadying herself even more, certain she would fall over. He stopped, briefly, and asked her if she needed anything else. She cleared her throat again, and tried to uncross her eyes, and stuttered out "Yyyes Sir I do."

"What would that be?"

She could only beg him with her eyes, she couldn't say that in front of someone. He started rubbing again, and the moisture began slipping down her thighs. When she started grinding herself into his hand, he quit again. She whimpered audibly.

"What else did you need?"

Still, she couldn't say it out loud. She wanted to, she knew exactly what she wanted to say, but she looked across at the stranger, and was so embarrassed she knew she'd die if she even tried. Her breathing smoothed out slowly, and just as slowly, he began again.

"So, I think you need to get off. Would I be right about that?" He said it menacingly, just softly enough to be heard at the table, no louder. She nodded furiously. "I think maybe you'd probably do anything to get off right about now, wouldn't you?" She groaned and nodded. "Maybe even something really outrageous like, oh, sucking my friend here under the table, right?" She ground herself faster into his hand, and watched as the gentleman across the table eased his hand into his lap to stroke his cock.

He kept on until the throat noises came up and out. She was just about to throw her head back and give up when he removed his hand, and held it out to her. She started sucking his fingers clean, completely oblivious to anything but filling her mouth with him. He handed her a napkin and she wiped her mouth.

"Go up to the room." He said it dismissively. She collected her bag and the key and did as she was told. On the way up, she tried to imagine what on earth he'd say to explain the evening's events to his friend, but decided that was not a good train of thought as any of the considered possibilities mortified her. She shut the door behind her.