The other offices are silent and empty indicating that we've again worked later than anyone else on the floor. I unconsciously push an errant strand of my auburn hair behind my ear before languorously, lifting my arms above my head and stretching the kinks from my body. The motion draws my sweater taut against my body and lifts it above the waistband of my skirt, exposing an inch or so of skin. I see you out of the corner of my eye, watching me, and I arch my back a little more. Its a game we play...I subtly tease and you watch and we never say a word about it. But I wonder...
I wonder and imagine. Imagine that, instead of returning my work, I walk out of my office and across the hall into yours. Moving between you and the desk, I sit on the edge, my skirt riding so far up my thighs that you can see the tops of my stockings. You are sitting in front of me, a little surprised, but your eyes move up along my legs...to my hands that are now at the bottom of my sweater, lifting it up sooooo s l o w l y. As I pull it over my head, we both hear the bobby pins falling from my hair and hitting your desk. I drop my sweater on the floor next to you as my hair settles around my face. I watch you as your gaze moves over me. You take in the lacy, black silk bra that I'm wearing, dark against my soft, creamy skin. My breath quickens as I reach behind my back and with a small twist, undo it, letting the bra slide down my arms. The cool air causes my nipples to harden—-or maybe it's the excitement curling in my stomach as you watch my fingers glide down over my breasts, circling over the dusky-rose tips before sliding down over my stomach.
Your hands settle lightly on the skin above my stockings, sliding upwards under the edge of my skirt. Slowly, you spread my legs apart causing my skirt to ride up even further. Leaning forward, you blow against me and I can feel the heat of your breath through the black lace that covers me. Grasping the edge of the desk, I make a small sound at the feel of it. You stare intently into my eyes as your hands slide along the inside of my thighs. When your fingertips slip beneath the edge of my panties, brushing gently against my pubic hair, I breath in sharply and arch against them.
My stomach clenches in anticipation as your fingers move against me, slipping between my lips, sliding easily, moving over me. You stand up, moving your hands to my breasts, fingertips barely touching me, striking sparks against my nerve endings as my nipples tighten even more. I run my hands up your arms and into your hair, pulling you to me and kissing you passionately—-moaning into your mouth at the taste, smell, feel of you. Still kissing you, my fingers move to your buttons. I have your shirt pulled up and half off before you step back and take it off for me.