Angela wished she could spread her Secret Santa gifts out in front of her on the bar. That would help her process things a little better. She'd always hated Secret Santa, and given the events of the past year, really really hated it this year. In her office, you gave your secret recipient a gift ever week for three weeks leading up to the Christmas party. At the party, you had to guess who your Secret Santa was. She hated it. But as a supervisor, she couldn't opt out. Not this year. There was always all sorts of intrigue and whispering leading up to the final reveal. Angela was already not a fan of intrigue and whispering, and her staff had engaged in enough of it this year for a hundred Secret Santa events. So it was already so very annoying.
But then there were the gifts she'd received this year. They not only annoyed, they irritated and confused her. Made her angry. But also made her very, very horny.
It started three weeks ago with a very lame and poorly wrapped little book "A Christmas for Kittens" and a note from Secret Santa, "Because you're such a nice girl!" Angela figured it was a sarcastic joke from one of her staff, who she knew were still conspiring against her, hoping to get her fired. They didn't like her and didn't think she was nice at all. But later that day, when she left work, she found another gift in her coat pocket. She opened it in the car -- another book, this one with Kama Sutra-type drawings, but all of them kinky, detailed and BDSM-themed. It came with a note from her Secret Santa: "I know you're not a nice girl at all. But you're my kind of naughty. Santa is making a list and if you behave, he'll have a very nice present for you after the Christmas Party. If you're bad, Santa will have to show you his displeasure."
Angela had felt her cheeks burn as she read the message, though she was alone in her car. She had a secret, one she knew would get her in even more trouble at work than she already was if she were found out: She secretly wrote erotica on the side under an assumed name. That erotica tilted toward the BDSM. Well, not tilted. Totally fell off the cliff. She was a tough, kick-ass boss at work, but her stories were all from the sub's point of view and she got so turned on writing them she frequently had to stop and get out the magic wand. She wondered if her Secret Santa knew this secret. Why else would someone give her such a gift?
Since that first gift, she'd gotten two others. Her second official office gift was a box of gourmet dark chocolate-covered cocoanut balls. The dirty counterpart that turned up in her coat pocket later was a festively wrapped set of ben-wah balls.
The third official gift was a Christmas charm bracelet with cute reindeer, a Santa, angels, snowmen and assorted ornaments. So cute it made her want to puke. The dirty counterpart was a set of leather handcuffs.
As she sat at the bar the night she received the third gift, she went -- for the millionth time -- through the list in her head of possible Secret Santas. She supervised ten people, seven of whom were women. Most had seemed cooperative and nice when she'd been promoted to that department a little over a year ago. But since then, a small cabal of troublemakers had turned everyone against her. Two troublemaker, actually. Debbie didn't like the expectations Angela had set for her and wanted to do her job the way she always had. Her work was mediocre with no critical thinking behind it. She and Angela often clashed. Wendy was a bigger problem. Seemingly cooperative, she was manipulative, power-hungry and double-crossed Angela on several occasions without Angela even knowing until it was too late.
While both Wendy and Debbie had been behind a complaint to Human Resources about Angela that had resulted in a lengthy, painful and soul-searing investigation, Angela didn't think the porno gifts were quite their style. "They don't have the imagination," Angela told herself as she sipped her beer. "I can't see their end game." She figured the other women she supervised would be scandalized if they even knew such things existed. So, not them.
Of the three men she supervised, one was a burnout who caused her a lot of trouble when she insisted he actually account for his work time instead of disappearing to smoke pot (yeah, she knew what it smelled like). He hid his hostility toward her under a laid-back surfer dude persona that fooled a lot of people, including, apparently, her boss.
Another guy was a middle-aged doofus who, like the women, just wouldn't be capable of it. She'd had to explain to him once what an anal plug was after a client had made a crude reference. While she tried to be as discreet and euphemistic as she could, her staff had held it against her in their list of complaints. No, not him.
That left Danny, a mild-mannered, easy-going hard worker who was more average at his job than she'd liked, but never caused her any trouble. Except one little thing: He obviously had a huge crush on her and occasionally made small references to them possibly getting together that she'd ignore. Once after a few drinks, she'd told him that as his boss, she couldn't have any kind of relationship with him. He'd said, with sincerity that was kind of cute, "I'm not talking about a relationship. I just want to see you naked." She'd laughed and changed the subject. He apologized profusely the next day and they never spoke of it again. But the dom-style note, the dirty presents, didn't seem Danny's style.
That just left Tim, her boss. Back when she could talk to her coworkers without fear of being complained about, she and the other women had referred to him as Clark Kent. He looked studious and clean-cut, but it wasn't hard to see a ripped body under that business suit. Once, when Angela was wearing a blouse that gaped and showed quite a bit of her still-firm and perky breasts during a meeting at his desk (which in her defense, she didn't realize until later), she'd spied a bulge in his pants that told her he'd been checking her out. But one hard-on doesn't a Dirty Secret Santa make. Tim and Angela had been friends, close ones, at one time. She'd been his mentor, above him on the organizational chart until he became her boss two years before. She admitted she'd always been attracted to him, but he always had a gorgeous girlfriend, though he seemed to go through them pretty fast. And since the past year's issues with her staff, they were no longer friends at all. Just coworkers who superficially got along. Tim avoided her and, even though she was ultimately cleared by HR, he'd been angry and she knew, blamed her for the disruption in the department and the continuing antipathy of her employees.
"Hey, sexy." Angela looked up from her beer, for a moment feeling a little giddy thinking it was Tim. It was Danny.
"Hi yourself," Angela said. "You really shouldn't be calling your boss 'sexy.' Especially since you guys are all on the record now with what a bitch you think I am." She knew she shouldn't say things like that, but alcohol did that to her.
Danny blushed. "I wasn't part of that. I think you're a great boss. Sorry about the 'sexy' thing."
Angela was on her third beer. So, a little buzzed. "Are you my Secret Santa?" She figured she'd just come out and ask.
"We're not allowed to tell," he said, trying to look coy but not carrying it off.
"I have a reason for asking, and if it's you, you know why," she said.
"Maybe I am and maybe I'm not."
"It has to do with me being naughty and nice."
"I think you're a little bit of both," he said, moving in closer. She could smell booze and realized he'd already had a few.
Okay, Angela thought. This doesn't seem to be going the way I'd script it in one of my erotica stories, but it has to be Danny. Her panties were wet and her nipples strained against her bra. Thinking about the gifts had made her seriously horny 24/7 the past three weeks. The logical part of her brain warned her about a setup, but the more powerful sex-driven one hoped she'd find out just what Santa had in mind after the Christmas party. Even if it was Danny.
The flirting between her and Danny got heavier. Hands brushing thighs turned into hands firmly planted on each other's body. Heads too close together turned into quick, then longer, more passionate and tongue-driven kisses. By the time they left a couple hours later, she could barely walk she was so worked up.
Danny walked her to her car at the back of the dark parking lot, his hand on her ass, squeezing and kneading. A light snow had fallen, but she kept her jacket open, loving the way the cold air felt on her skin, particularly where her blouse had somehow opened a couple more buttons as she and Danny sat at the bar.
When they got to her car, she wasn't sure what was going to happen, but she didn't have to think about it. Danny pushed her against the car, his tongue parting her lips and teeth as one surprisingly strong hand squeezed her breast. She felt herself moan into his mouth, pushing her hips against his, feeling his hard cock against her pelvic bone.
"Fuck me right here," she breathed into his mouth as she unbuckled his belt and fumbled for his cock through his pants.
"You got it," he said. Not totally sexy, but she didn't care. He unzipped his pants and reached up her skirt, pushing aside her panties. His fingers slid up and down her wet slit and he chuckled. "You're hot for me after all," he said.
Angela moaned. "It's because I'm such a naughty girl," she said, willing him to take the dom role he'd promised in the Santa note.
"I don't have a condom," he said.
"I'm on the pill. Just fuck me." Jesus, she thought, he really doesn't know how to be the boss here.
"You got it," he said again, pushing his cock into her wet, welcoming pussy without further ado.
"Oh god, yeah," Angela moaned. She hadn't been fucked in a long time. Not since her boyfriend Sean, who was a bust in the sack anyway, had left her for a younger, dumber girlfriend several months before.
"Yeah," Danny agreed with a grunt, pushing hard into her.
"Suck my tits," Angela said, thrusting back.
Danny pulled her blouse aside, popping a button. Getting her clothes ripped off was a big turn-on for Angela, so at least he got that right. He pushed her bra cup aside, his hot mouth finding her painfully erect nipple. The combination of the freezing air and his hot mouth was almost more than she could take.
"Oh god, I'm coming already," she said, thrusting against him, her hands on his hips. She lifted one leg and wrapped it around his thigh, trying to angle just the right way for maximum pleasure. He lightly bit her nipple and it sent her over the age. "Oh god, oh my god," she said.
Danny's pace picked up, ramming into her and she felt her pussy convulse around his cock. He lifted his mouth from her nipple and pressed hard against her, biting her neck. "Shit," he said. "Oh shit, here I go." She could feel his hot cum leak down her bare thigh as his thrusts slowed.
They both stood there for a minute, him pressed against her, she pressed against the car.
"Wow, that was awesome," Danny finally said, as he eased out. "Cold out though." He giggled as he zipped up his pants and redid his belt. Angela adjusted her clothes.
