The Story Of Amy O

Michael Booth looked up from the reports as his door tentatively opened. "Ah, Miss O. There you are. Please, come in."

Amy made her way into the office, her hands nervously clutching her latest article. She watched as her employer looked her over with his deep blue eyes.

"You, uh, wanted to see me, sir?" Amy asked.

"Yes, I was just looking over your work here and I must say I'm very impressed." He gestured to a folder on his desk. "You're quite a talented writer."

She blushed, but smiled proudly.

"Thank you, Mr. Booth. You don't know how much it means to me to be here."

Amy O had been working at

Swerve

magazine for two amazing weeks now.

Swerve

, being a leading publication for modern culture, was just the place to have her columns on human sexuality viewed by millions of open-minded individuals. She felt so many kindred spirits here in the offices and everyone had been so great at making her feel at home. The most welcoming of them all, of course, was Mr. Booth, the owner and chief editor of the magazine. He treated all the employees fairly and was always available for advice or support.

Amy's thoughts snapped back to the present as he continued.

"I'm quite happy with what I've seen so far, Miss O, but I'm a little worried."

Amy swallowed and stammered, "Uh...sir?"

Mr. Booth put down the report he was reading. "You have some amazing insights and your writing is stellar. However, it doesn't sound like you're immersed in the subject."

"I don't quite know what you mean, sir..."

"What I mean, Miss O, is that while you talk of sexuality, your words don't seem to convey that you've truly been a part of it. You speak of everything so coldly, so clinically. It's as if you're an observer, even when you're the subject of the story. Your sexuality is rooted in your brain, which is admirable, but it seems to lack connection with your body."

Amy's brain reeled slightly at the words. She'd always prided herself on her openness. To hear such criticisms from someone she admired so much shook her to her core. But there was something about his tone that seemed to spark deep inside her. He wasn't harsh or judging; it was as if he was stating a common fact.

"I, I'm sorry, sir, but I don't know what to say..."

Mr. Booth looked over his newest hire with an appraising eye. Her hair was a chestnut brown, cut short and sensibly. Her bright blue eyes held a perpetual glimmer of brilliance behind her glasses, and her glossy full lips always smiled faintly. Amy's white blouse did its best to conservatively conceal her lush curves without being prudish, and he could see the swell of her firm breasts through the unfastened top buttons. Her black skirt was cut just above her knee and hinted at the secrets within. Black stockings encased her smooth legs, leading down to a sensible pair of black heels.

"What I'm saying, Miss O, is that you don't seem to have much

bodily

connection to sex. Your thoughts and feelings are there, but the passions of the flesh seem to be lacking."

Amy shifted where she stood, trying to get more comfortable. His low voice held a seductive drawl to it. It seemed to reach down into her and pull levers in her soul that had never been pulled. That, coupled with such frank talk, was beginning to make her body heat rise.

"If I may be so bold to ask, Miss O, have you ever felt an animal, all consuming passion before? Ever been overwhelmed by pleasure? Had your body completely override all thoughts and fill you with sensation?"

Amy was speechless. Her cheeks flushed and she began to feel the telltale warmth emanating from between her thighs.

"N-no, sir, I, uh..."she stammered, "I've never, uh, never had that happen really."

"I see," Mr. Booth replied.

He leaned back in his chair and once again looked her over. There was something about her that thrilled and excited him, and he felt familiar stirrings in his gut. Perhaps it was the blush that was spreading over her neck and cheeks, or the way she held his gaze confidently even through her nervousness. Whatever it was, Mr. Booth was curious to see exactly how strong her walls were.

"Miss O, I'd like to offer you an opportunity to grow as a woman and as a writer. Would you like that, Miss O?" Mr. Booth asked.

Amy nodded dumbly, still trying to restrain her nerves and her blossoming arousal. Mr. Booth's eyes bored into hers as if reading her thoughts. "Excellent. You will arrive here tomorrow afternoon and every afternoon hereafter at," He glanced briefly at his watch, "3:22 exactly. Not a minute sooner, nor a minute later, or else I will retract this offer. Am I clear, Miss O?"

The clear confidence in his words made her tremble. It wasn't that he was commanding. No, she'd known many commanding men in her life and they never made her feel this way. This was different. This was...

compelling

. He wasn't trying to order her to do something she didn't want to, he was convincing her to do all those hidden things she'd never allowed herself to do.

"Miss O!"

The words snapped Amy out of her reverie. With wide eyes and a flustered smile, she said, "Yes sir!"

"Good. I will see you tomorrow then." Mr. Booth turned back to his work, leaving Amy to stand awkwardly before she scurried out of the room.

Moments later, Amy rushed into her own office and locked the door behind her. Panting, she leaned against the desk and closed her eyes. Had he really meant what it sounded like? Had he really offered to mentor her? And, for that matter, mentor her in what? She felt overwhelmed; not just by the proposition but also by her body's reaction. He seemed to be able to look into her and see her secrets, the hidden thoughts, the untold desires.

Most surprising of all was the heat burning between her thighs. Her white silk panties felt uncomfortable as they dampened. Amy's breathing was shallow and labored as she glanced around. It was late enough, she reasoned; anyone who'd need her would be busy, right? She bit her lip as she sat onto her desk chair and spread her legs. Her thighs parted slightly as she ran her fingertips along them.

One hand made its way up her stomach sliding gently over the soft silk of her blouse. She paused at each button, working each one free as she traveled upward. When the top one was opened, she shrugged the blouse off her shoulders. Her full breasts strained against the white lace of the bra, her nipples hard enough to poke through. She grinned slightly and gave each one a pinch as her fingers slipped into the cups to caress her hot flesh. Amy moaned at the feeling. She bit her lower lip and she worked her hand further under her skirt until she brushed against her panties. She shuddered deliciously as the cool satin pressed against the smooth hairless flesh around her womanhood.

Amy delighted and gasped as her fingers pulled her panties free. She slid the flimsy material down her legs and kicked them to the floor. With one foot propped on the desk she began rubbing her pussy frantically. The smell of sex filled the room and little mewls of pleasure escaped her lips. She thought of Mr. Booth, his face studying her every move, the bulge in his pants growing as his words hypnotized her. Closer and closer to climax she worked herself as she pinched and twisted her nipples with her free hand. She hadn't imagined it, had she? He really was aroused by her, right? The thought of him lusting after her was just what she needed. She let out a low, guttural moan as her climax peaked. Her legs trembled and her pussy clenched at her fingers as the pleasure washed over her. Amy's stomach trembled as she collapsed backward and slumped into the chair, panting and exhausted by the sheer force of the orgasm. It had been ages since she'd cum that hard and that fast. Yes, she thought as she smiled to herself, tomorrow would be an interesting afternoon.

Unbeknownst to Amy, Michael Booth was busy slumping back into his own chair at that moment. He looked down at his softening cock and his pants stained with his cum.

"Oh Miss O," he muttered as he lounged, tomorrow will be a very interesting afternoon.