This story is the product of some back & forth on the literotica.com forum between myself and a helicopter pilot stationed in France. It was his story to begin with, and some of the dialogue and kinks are still his, I just tweaked it for my own fun...
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I'd been working at the helicopter service center for about three months. Got hired there because the boss, let's call him H, went to school with my older brother and then they were buddies in the army.
I had just come home from bumming around Europe with some of my rich art school friends, living off their trust funds, sleeping in a four star hotel one night - champagne and room service, the works - and then passing out on a blanket on the beach the next night, without a care in the world or a dollar to my name.
But then some major shit went wrong. It just all snowballed outta control and I had to get lost fast, so I came home, to this sleepy little town in the middle of nowhere, where nobody had ever heard of Tracy Emin, George Batailles or even Charles Bukowski. Shit, I had to find something to keep me busy while I waited for things to cool off with Serge and the whole Interpol mess. Shit.
So I went to work everyday, the only girl in a warehouse full of men in coveralls who barely grunted hello. I think they were scared of me. Maybe H had warned them off, or maybe they knew he was friends with my older brother and had taken a bit of a protective attitude towards me, which, was totally uncalled for.
It mighta been sweet if I wasn't such a total perv. Little did he know the kinda stuff I'd done and was into, I mean, many an hour was spent at my desk fantasizing about getting fucked by one or another of the coverall clad Neanderthals that came in and out of the trailer where H had his offices. I sat right outside, in the front room of the trailer, behind a desk full of papers, unopened mail and clutter, next to a big calendar with bikini clad babes with more tits and ass than days of the week.
I made coffee every morning - that was my opening duty - which I fucked up the first four or five times. H got pretty agitated, too, which was funny because I put on my shy and sweetness act and looked all sad when he got upset and he toned it down right away.
What a sucker! I explained to him I'd never worked a coffee maker before. I didn't even drink the stuff. I mean, if you're going to drink coffee, go for an espresso, or a double latte, for Christ's sake, but who drinks that tepid, tasteless crap that comes from an American coffee machine anymore?
After I figured out how to make the stuff (I'm not dumb, just contrary), I fucked it up every now and again on purpose, just to push H's buttons, which was the only fun part of my job, other than flirting with the Neanderthals and watching them scurry away.
I started to catch H looking at me every now and again. It was kinda fun because I could tell he was conflicted. I was off limits, his buddy's little sister, and that went against his archaic code or some such bullshit.
I went into the little bathroom in the trailer once and played with my pussy for almost half an hour thinking about H and how much he wanted to fuck me. He never said a word about how long I took in the bathroom or how sometimes I'd go to the store for cigarettes and take almost an hour to come back, but I could tell it was getting to him.
He started to lay into me about smoking, telling me I shouldn't and how bad it was for me. That just made me wanta smoke more, so I did. I think he was slowly catching on to me. This was a small town, after all, and I'm sure I'd seen some of my coverall-clad co-workers at the bar a few times, so they knew the score.
I'd been pretty good, though. Three whole months here and I hadn't fucked anybody yet. Got close, but no cigar. I'd flirted pretty outrageously and even flashed my pussy -- accidentally? -- crossing and uncrossing my legs while perched on a counter at the warehouse.
The day it went down was definitely a doozie because I'd gotten fucked the night before, breaking a long dry spell. I hooked up with this kid almost eight years younger than me who played bass in a punk rock band on his way to a gig half-way across the state. The van had broken down and they went into the bar for a drink and I went right for it, figuring I'd never have to see him again, so why not?
The sex was all right, I mean sex is sex and it's always good, right, but it was nothing special. We fucked twice that night in his van, his buddies waiting outside and probably whacking off to my moans and shrieks, and then I sucked his cock to attention in the morning. He fucked me again after that, in the woods next to the campsite where they had parked. I lost track of time and didn't realize I would be late for work, so I didn't even have time to shower or go home and change. I'd have to go to work all slutted up in my bar outfit and with a pussy load of cum. Shit, H will love that!
So I got a ride back to the bar where I had chained up my bike and hopped on. It was a good 15-minute ride to the warehouse, but I made it there in about 10. Shit, I probably reeked of sex, booze and cigarettes. I was hoping H wouldn't notice or at least that he wouldn't comment, but that was too much to hope for. As soon as I rushed into the trailer, I could feel H's eyes bearing into me, beaming with disapproval. What a hypocrite, I thought, I mean what red-blooded male wouldn't like to see me in this short little khaki canvass skirt, cut even higher to show off the thighs, barely covering my ass, and a red low-cut top that clung to my pert little tits, emphasizing my ever-erect nipples.
"You're over an hour late, Nora," H said, standing at the door to his office, his 6'2" frame making the trailer seem even smaller. "Make the coffee, listen to the messages and then come into my office as soon as you're done. I want my cup of coffee and I want a full report on why you're late and why," his eyes covered my body from head to toe "you're dressed the way you are."
I felt a quick little rush go through me, thinking, he might be on to me. Nah. He's just pissed cause I'm late. I hurried to make his coffee and jotted down the three or four messages from different clients, blah, blah, blah. I tried to come up with some good excused for my tardiness, but I was drawing a blank. I grabbed his ARMY coffee cup and the little book where I wrote down all the messages and headed into his office, hoping I could come up with something, anything, to smooth things over.
He was sitting at his desk, talking on the phone. He looked up at me as soon as I stepped into his office, motioning me over. I set down his coffee and stood like a tenth-grader in front of the principle's desk, fidgeting and shifting my weight from one foot to the other.
"All right, Steve," he chuckled into the phone. Well, this was good, not in such a pissy mood after all. "Will do. I'll get back to you on that one, but don't expect too much. All right, then. We'll see," with that he hung up and took a deep, disapproving breath.
I just stood there. He just sat there, looking me up and down. Neither one of us spoke. It was like a Mexican standoff, until I finally thought to hand him his coffee.
"Thanks," he took it, still staring me down. "The messages?"
"Oh, right, um, well Mr. Brooks called about that job for the tour company. He wants to know if we can do it within their budget."
"Anything else?" he said drolly.
"Um, your dentist called to confirm tomorrow's appointment, but that's it."
"Okay," he said.
"Okay," I repeated.
"Do you want to explain to me why you were over an hour late to work this morning and why, for Christ's sake, you showed up to work dressed up like some little trollop?" he said, getting more and more agitated.
"Um, well, it's just that I went out last night with some friends and kinda got carried away, and well..."
"Nora," he interrupted, "I'd heard some stories from some of the guys about seeing you out and, frankly I didn't want to believe them, but now seeing you like this," he motioned at me, "makes me think maybe I should have listened."
"Nora, I know I'm only a few years older than you, and I don't know what you've been up to for the last 10 years, but what I do know is that you should realize there's a time and a place, and though you might look very fetching in your little," cough "outfit, it's not appropriate for the workplace. We can't have that kind of behavior at work...it is distracting to me, and the other workers...they deserve an environment where they can work quietly, and not wonder what you have on underneath you already skimpy clothes."
I knew he was right, but come on, don't be such a fucking priss! I don't know what made me do it, maybe I just wanted to shock him out of his misery. Maybe I was just bored and my ravenous sex monster had been awakened by the sex the night before.
"What's wrong with my outfit?" I challenged him, looking him in the eye with a sexy grin on my face, twirling the spaghetti strap on my shoulder "Dontcha like it?"
"That's not the point, young lady," said H, a little flustered.
