It is the end of an ordinary week at work which I have spent doing ordinary jobs for familiar faces in a building with a broken air conditioner. Looking at my boss' diary I see that he has only one appointment left so should be returning to the office any minute. The building is quiet, so I lean back in my chair and take a big swig of water, eyes, closed, enjoying the silence, rubbing the cold cup against my neck to cool down.
A cough.
Opening my eyes I fall off my chair in shock onto my hands and knees on the floor. Looking up I see you laughing down at me, as I ineffectively dab at the water, which has spilt all over my blouse, with a tissue.
"Mr Rain?" I ask, and you nod. "Please take a seat, Mr Green won't be long now, he had a meeting the other side of town but I'm expecting him back soon."
You nod and sit down, relaxed, confident, sprawled, one ankle resting on the opposite knee casually. I go to finish typing a letter, but don't get more than a couple of lines finished before the phone rings. It's Mr Green, he tells me there's a family emergency and he can't get back that evening to see you. I put him on the phone to you and you chat for a minute, then give me a thoughtful look, before handing back the mouthpiece. Mr Green says he hopes I don't mind, but he's offered that I look after you for your visit to town. "No problem Sir" I say and hang up, looking over to you. "Well, what do you fancy then, Mr Rain?"
"I fancy a drink. What's your name?"
"Rosie"
"Then I'd like a drink Rosie, something cold."
"Coming right up." I wriggle through from reception area into Mr Green's office, to the drinks cabinet where the fridge is kept. It's not full, just some champagne and some gin & tonic. I pull out the gin and the champagne and turn round to find you in the doorway watching me again. I am uncomfortably aware of the lack of length of my skirt, and decide to make a joke of it.
"Sorry, was I flashing at you there? Which would you prefer?"
"I'd prefer fucking a curvy slut to flashing."
I blink and laugh. "Fair enough. But I've got champagne or G&T. It's up to you."
"Then put the champagne on ice."
"Coming right up." I turn to put it in the ice-bucket from the freezer, and when I turn round again you are so close I feel I could dive right into your blue eyes. "Now, what should I call you? Mr Rain? Sir? I don't know your first name I'm afraid."
"Then call me Master"
"After five minutes of your company? I don't think so. Why would I want to do that?"
"Because," you say, suddenly lifting me onto my boss' desk, "you are a curvy slut who needs one. Now you heard what your boss said, so be a good girl and look after me."
"I think, Sir, he was talking about taking on a tour of the city and for a meal."
"That later. Right now we're both need something wet. Which," you say, sliding your hand up my skirt, "you are. Now stay there while I get a couple of glasses." But there are none to be found, and you bring the bottle over, smoking like a gun. "Well Rosie, I think you must be a very bad slut, to have no glasses for your boss. We'll just have to drink from the bottle. Here, slut, drink."
"Perhaps I will end up calling you Master. Then again perhaps not." I smile at you, take a swig and blink, the bubbles tickling my nose. I can feel an instant rush to my head, and gasp. You swig too, and hand it back. Every time I drink you call me names, whore, cunt, tart, bitch, and they with the bubbles have the room swaying round me, though the only thing I can call you is Sir.
In remarkably quick time the bottle is nearly done. I reach for it but you hold it out of my reach. "ah ah ah! Now I want you lying on your front over the desk."
I carefully turn, very unsteady now. You kick my legs apart wide. I try to peek round to see what you're doing, but you slap my face back with the back of your hand, "Keep still you whoring slut". I feel you sliding down my skirt and stroking my thighs. Purring I enjoy the feeling in the evening sunshine, but you slap my ass and tell me to concentrate.
"On what, Shir?" And then I feel your finger stroking my cunt, checking how aroused I am. You're laughing, a cruel laugh, and I desperately want to feel you filling me up. But it's not your cock that strokes my lips next, but the rim of the bottle, very firm and strong. You slide it deep inside, mingling my juices with the champagne and slide it in, out, in, out, in, out, until I'm screaming for you. Then you withdraw again and walk round the other side of the desk. You undo your trousers and I see your cock firm in front of me. "Suck me you filthy dirty whore". And I do, wondering at myself, at your power over me, at how much I love it. But again, just before coming you withdraw and spurt all over my surprised face. Carefully you wipe off your own cum and wipe it on the neck of the bottle, so you have a mix of champagne and both our cum.
"Kneel on the floor, bitch." And again I do with great difficulty, hoping I don't collapse from the champagne. You offer me the neck of the bottle and I go to take it, but you say "no hands slut, just drink." Looking up at you I take it in my mouth, and you see me drinking my cum and yours together.
"Good slut," you whisper, "good slut. Now, get dressed and straighten up, I want to take you out with me and no-one must know." You help me up and I get dressed, to defeat the watchful eyes of the office women.
The lift is empty as we get in on the top floor. You stand me in next to you, close, and I am grateful for the support until I feel you parting my skirt at the back with your hand. I start to giggle, but then stop abruptly as more people get in the lift. But you don't stop, you keep going and I find it hard to focus on the people who say hello to me.
As we get to the bottom floor I move to wriggle away from you, but instead you say "Rosie, I don't have my jacket, we'll have to go back up for it." I silently shake with laughter as the rest of the lift empties and we start the climb back up.
"Sir!" I protest, "my thighs are soaking again, they're wetting my stocking tops".
"That's because you're a horny slut who wants it bad…."
I look back at you. "So, shall we go back to the office and dry them, then?"
"Dry them then what?"
"Dry them then, Sir"
"No I don't think so you whore, you'll just get wet again. I can see you getting wetter and wetter every time I stroke you or look at you."
I swallow, for it's true. Then the lift doors open again on the top floor and one of the company execs gets in. "Hey, how ya doin'? I haven't seen you for months?"
As you make polite conversation your hand never leaves my ass, exploring deeper and deeper, and I grip the lift rail so hard my knuckles turn white to distract myself. Suddenly I realise you're both looking at me and I haven't a clue what you've said. "Mmmm, pardon, sorry, what did you say? I was thinking about something else."
You look down at me. "What were you thinking about Rosie?"
I gulp. "Oh you know, new places to explore, sensations to discover… it is summer, after all."
"Right. Mr Fairlie was just asking where we were going to eat tonight. What do you think?"
"Tapas, maybe? Perhaps finger food, nice and light in this weather?"
"Very sensual, yes I like the idea of that."
I blush and go quiet until we're down at the bottom. You stop rubbing and instead pat my ass, and I go to walk ahead of you out of the building, but you cough at me, and I realise I should show more respect, should follow behind you. But that suits me fine because then I can watch your ass this time.
