I wear my best lingerie to work the next morning, on the off-chance that yesterday's events repeat themselves. Might as well be dressed for the occasion. When it comes to John, who flies his family to St. Tropez (or somewhere equally luxurious, can't remember now), regular nightwear just won't do. So I'm wearing this lacy black Agent Provocateur number. Simply wearing it makes me feel horny.
On second thought, this was probably a horrible idea. I'm somewhat sleep deprived, staying up late last night bringing myself to orgasms, replaying the scene in John's office over and over again, adding on extra scenes of what happened after. But although I'm somewhat red-eyed, I can still feel the buzz of excitement, that feeling of anticipation you get before a big event.
I walk to the water cooler to get a drink. I might be turning a little paranoid, but I feel like everyone's eyes are following me to the cooler. Like they know what I did last night. What a dirty, dirty little slut you are, Lana, they're probably thinking. Oh, god. I should probably stop this because I can already feel myself getting a little damp.
I drink my water and try to think about the most boring thing possible, like the accounts I have to work on (which, to be honest, is what I should be thinking about). I return to my desk and spend the next hour or so with my head down, hard at work.
I'm finally getting into my work stride when I hear a voice.
"John wants to see you."
I look up, and it's Tiffany, glaring at me as usual. What is it with this girl? Why does she hate me so much?
I'm focusing on her frown and how menacing she looks, but I suddenly process what she actually said.
"He wants to see me?" I ask.
"What did I just say?" she repeats, even more menacingly. I take that as a yes, and hop to my feet. I think I'm going to start calling Tiffany the 'Dragon Lady' because she scares me so much.
I pace the few feet from my door to John's and knock. A few seconds, and I hear his voice.
"Enter."
I open the door, taking a deep breath, steadying myself as I enter. Does he want me for business...or for "business"?
John's sitting at his desk. The blinds are already closed, and the room is dim. I briefly catch John licking his lower lip, or I might have imagined that. I'm not too sure.
"Hello, Lana," he says, in that rich baritone voice. "How are you today?"
"Great, thanks," I smile, walking towards his desk.
"Nuh-uh," says John, looking stern and wagging his finger. "Did I tell you to walk over here?"
"S—sorry," I whimper, and retreat back. I'm so confused.
"Lana," says John. "Would you like to continue what we started yesterday?"
He has that look on his face again. THAT look. My heart rate's accelerating again. I nod yes.
"Excellent," he says, running his fingers through his hair. "That means you'll do as I tell you to. Is that understood?"
I nod. My pussy is tingling already. I'm so ready for this.
"Do you have any questions?" he asks, finally.
I do. Well, I probably have a hundred, starting from Why me?, to a range of other things, but I don't ask. I just want to do whatever it is he wants me to do. So instead, I say "No."
"Great," he says, taking a deep breath, and closing his eyes. I'm almost trembling with anticipation, but I try to keep cool on the outside.
"Please take your top off, leaving only your bra, and tell me when you're done" he says, his eyes still closed.
"Alright," I almost whisper. I quickly slide off my jacket and let it fall to the floor. Then I unbutton my blouse. John still has his eyes closed, so I try not to keep him waiting. After that's off, I'm standing there in my pencil skirt, heels and my Agent Provocateur bra. It's black and lace, but sheer so you can see through it. My nipples are hard and their outline is clearly visible.
"Done," I say, and John opens his eyes. In the dark, I can just barely see his eyes widening at the sight before him. But he tries to play it off.
"Now, take your shoes off," he says with a smirk. I can almost feel the bulge developing in his trousers. I take off my heels and stand on the carpeted floor, about two inches shorter.
"Now get on your hands and knees, and crawl to me. Slowly."
I do as he asks, getting down on my hands and knees, never once breaking eye contact. If this was any other man, any of my ex-boyfriends, this would feel out of place and awkward. But doing this with John I feel powerful, sexy. Right where I'm supposed to be.
Christ, I'm so horny now, I must be dripping wet. I want to check so badly. But I can't, I must follow orders.
As I'm crawling, John gets out of his chair and walks around his desk. He leans on it, running his hand over his mouth. Now I know he's turned on because I can see his bulge. I direct my gaze at it. As I do, I can almost see it getting bigger.
When I reach him I stop, and lean back, my ass resting comfortably on my stockinged feet. I look at him expectantly.
He's slowly unzipping his trousers...
"Now I want you to say, 'How can I be of service, Mr. Donner?'"
I look up at him and a giggle escapes my mouth. But he looks stern. "How can I service you today, Mr. Donner?" I ask, changing his line up a little bit. He likes this.
"You can start here," he says, taking his cock out from his trousers, letting it dangle in front of me. I take this as a sign and lean forward, taking it in my hand and then placing it in my mouth.
"Ohh," John quietly moans, his mouth making an O-shape. I can tell the way I swirl my tongue around his cock is driving him crazy because his breathing gets ragged.
I gently lick my way around, milking the tip with extra tenderness. I move my hand up and down the base as well, to compliment my tongue movements. I could stroke him with both hands, one fist on top of the other, but I'm afraid it'll bring him over the edge.
Then suddenly, as if I've hit a nerve or something, he pushes me away. "I'm sorry," he says hurriedly, and motions for me to get up.
