You told me yesterday that you want to meet me. I've been waiting for this for a long time and now I've finally been told where and when to be. You're at work in your office. I've come to meet you here. It's Friday and I have an appointment for 11.30. An appointment! We're going to get the initial 'hello's' out of the way and then hopefully go for lunch.
I have always imagined you as the picture of propriety at work. I don't really know what you do exactly but I think of you as the no-nonsense guy who everyone likes but know not to fuck around with. I don't like meeting you here. I'd have rather met you in the pub where it's more relaxed and I don't feel quite so obvious. You told me that it's perfectly normal for you to meet clients and then go for a pub lunch. No one will think anything of it. Unless I give them reason to.
"And Alice, clients don't fidget and look nervous" You told me yesterday, "So neither will you."
So I'm here. I'm wearing a straight knee length black skirt, plain but high heeled shoes and a top that's probably a little too low cut to be a work top but could still pass for business meeting attire. Just. I'm bang on time and I'm looking confident and composed even though it's every effort to keep my hands still. I know better than to be late. You warned me that if I was late You wouldn't be available at all. I shouldn't bother even trying to see you.
Your secretary brings me to your office and announces my arrival. You invite me in with a charming and very disarming smile. Wow! You look good in pictures but face to face you're even more gorgeous! Very imposing too. What are you, six three, four even? Even with me wearing heels you tower over me. In a second I take in everything I can about you. Your well cut suit, your polished shoes and as you step close to me to greet me I take in the sexiest thing of all, your scent. I don't recognise it but I know instantly that if I ever smell it again I'll always think of you. You close the door behind me and walk over to your desk. I head towards the other chair.
"Stop!" my heart lurches. I stop.
"Stay right in the middle of the room. Face me." I step to the middle and face you. My heart has sped up.
Your voice is calm but there's no mistaking the commanding edge it has. I like your accent. It's not what I expected. You slowly look me up and down. My hands find each other and begin a squeezing match in front of me.
"Did you have a pleasant journey?"
"Yes, I did. It wasn't bad anyway. Thank you."
"Good. Right then!"
Right then what? I wait. My eyes try to dance around the room. I hold them still.
"Strip naked."
What? Just like that? I've hardly said a word yet. I gawp at you. My mouth hangs open and the air suddenly disappears from the room. I'm stalling I know but I can't move. Except for my hands that is. The right hand has found the ring on my left middle finger and is unscrewing it with such determination that you might think the finger will actually come off.
"W w what? Here? Right now?" I manage. I look around wildly like a cornered rabbit. "What about..?" I trail off when I register the look you're giving me. There's more than just a hint of annoyance. This isn't going well. I thought you would be pleased to see me and we'd get to know each other a bit before, well before anything.
"If I ask anything of you that you don't want to do you can say no but then you're to leave immediately and that's the end for good. Do you understand?" You're smiling again.
"Yes, I er, of course."
"Then decide. I don't have all day." Your smile vanishes. You look down at a blank notepad on your desk. Fuck! You're so dismissive!
I'm suddenly not sure what I'm doing here at all. I'm afraid someone will walk in but more than that, I'm impossibly uncomfortable about stripping naked in front of you. I scan the room again but take nothing in. I look back at the door. And the way out. Do I run? I want to stay. Oh fucking hell! I'm still stalling.
"It's not locked." You say without looking up.
"I'm sorry?"
"I said it's not locked. The door. I saw you look at it. I assume you were wondering whether or not it's locked." You look at me. "It's not," you tell me again. "You have one minute to start." You pause for a second, then almost an afterthought, "And you will address me as Sir."
Didn't i? How did I miss that? "Yes Sir" I whisper.
My embarrassment rages but my paralysis has broken. I'm not leaving. I drop my handbag to the floor and look at you again for something, reassurance, encouragement maybe. I get neither. I'm met with a flat, almost bored look. I drop my gaze back to the floor but tell myself to keep going. I undo my skirt and let it fall into a puddle at my feet. I stop. I think I'm breathing too hard. I consciously take one deep breath, hold it and exhale slowly. It clears my head a little but not much. I slip my top off over my head and drop it next to me. You notice with some amusement that my face is burning red and that I'm making every effort to suck my stomach in without it being obvious. It's so obvious.
I reach behind me and unclip my bra, slide my arms out of it but still hold it over my breasts and look right into your eyes.
"Drop it."
I hold your stare, feigning a little more confidence now and let the bra fall. I hope you like my breasts. It makes me feel braver now you have them to look at. I pause for a second waiting for you to look at them. You don't. My bravery evaporates.
I slip my thumbs into the sides of my thong and without breaking eye contact, bend forward at the waist and pull it down to my feet. I straighten up. Our eyes still locked together, I step out of my underwear and skirt and kick them both to my top and handbag. I stand, still wearing my shoes with my feet slightly apart, hands now still by my sides, shoulders back and my head up. I'm still trying to look confident but think I probably look insolent. I'm almost challenging you to look me over. You don't.
Instead you break eye contact and look back at your notepad in front of you and begin writing something. I'm completely thrown. I've only been here 5 minutes and already I'm naked and standing right in the middle of your office. I wasn't sure what to expect but I'm sure it wasn't this.
Without looking up you say "Turn around." I do. I hold my head up and arch my back slightly emphasising my round bottom. If you're looking at me now you're looking at my bottom I'm sure. I think it's my best asset. I still don't have a clue what you think.
There are people going by outside the frosted glass window but nobody stops. I watch their fuzzy outlines pass by and think just how surreal this is. Panic is simmering quietly in my belly.
"I want to see your wet cunt and arse first." I suck in a breath, blow it out through my nose too hard then lower my head slightly. Cunt. I hate that word! I'd never use it. It's so vulgar. Maybe you think I've just blushed again. You're dead right.
I start to bend forwards.
"Stop!"
I straighten up again.
"Stand wider. I want your feet about a foot and a half apart and only then will you bend to touch the floor."
I do it. I wait for you to say something. I think a minute goes by, maybe more, but probably less. I drop my head and look at you through my legs. You're sitting upside down at your desk writing something. You're not even looking at me. I wiggle my ass a little. Barely at all really. You slowly raise your eyes and look right into mine with such contempt that I look away immediately.
"I'll look at my slut's cunt when I'm good and ready. Until then it's to remain presented to me."
You go back to writing. I wait. My calf muscles start to feel tighter. I look at the floor. It's quite a nice floor; laminate but not a cheap one. I look to the left, nothing to see there except a door to either a cupboard or an adjoining office and to the right only a waste bin. I look up towards the main door again. That damn door! The door is the end. It seems symbolic now. Is it too late for the door? I think it probably is now. I look away from it.
I wait. I've tried so hard to show myself to you without being brazen. To be confident but not seem arrogant. To not be a slut but to by your slut. To be filthy yet demure. It's a bit like trying to be a virgin whore I think. And it's a thin line to walk let me tell you!
God I need to be in the zone! This is still too hard. I need to focus. I close my eyes and allow myself 1 minute to think about the door. And about whether or not you like my breasts and my bottom. And how long you'll have me standing like this. And will I have a minute before you stop me and what are you writing. And just how much of a slut do you really think I am or want to be. And and and any fucking thing else that's in my head keeping me from where I should be.
1 minute of noise. I could go crazy in here!
It's all gone. I've found the place. I look back at the floor but I'm not really looking at anything.
"Now that's much better," you say.
"Yes Sir." It is too. But how do you know?
"Because you're still now."
"I didn't ask Sir." Not out loud anyway! So you know my thoughts too now! Of course you do.
I can feel your eyes on me. Scrutinising the outline of my pussy and asshole. I know I'm wet, I can feel it but I don't know how visibly wet I am. I hear your chair move. I don't move but my clit sends a jolt through me for no good reason and I gasp quietly. I can feel my pussy clench in anticipation. It's starting to pulse. It's demanding attention. I'm certain you'll notice. I squeeze it hard in an effort to shut it up. You definitely see that.
"Bring that cock hungry cunt here"
I start to stand up.
"Properly girl!"
Fuck! I curse myself for being so stupid. Again!
I immediately drop to my knees and with my head lowered and my hair hanging over my face I crawl round the desk to your feet. I turn around and keeping my head down and my hands on the floor I jump to my feet and straighten my legs again. Just as I was before. Only now I can feel my wetness has leaked out of my pussy and onto my thighs.
