It was Friday, and it was Bobby's birthday. I'd started the tradition some time ago, at my wife's prodding, of taking all of the secretaries out for dinner on each of t heir birthdays. It wasn't a hardship with only four of them in my work group, and taking them all to celebrate seemed a nice way of showing them that I cared. Bobby was the youngest of the group, turning twenty-four. She was slender, well constructed in all the right places, a little on the flirty side, at least with me, and always dressed in things that were very nice looking. I rather think she could put a potato sack on her young body and make it look sexy.
All of these were reasons that I found her attractive and they were also all reasons I made sure to severely limit any time alone with her. Not that I was at all worried that I'd take advantage of her. I'm a happily married man after all. I was more concerned that she would misconstrue something I said or did into something it wasn't, or that someone would interpret time alone and in close proximity to her as me being inappropriate, even though that wasn't the case. For that reason, my office door was ALWAYS left open when any of them were in my office alone with me. I guess that was also part of my rationale for taking all of them to dinner rather than just the birthday girl. It was just best to play it safe!
I wouldn't call myself their boss, but they worked for the department and I was, after all, the department head. For all practical purposes June, my executive assistant was really their boss. That doesn't mean that I didn't work with all of them from time to time on various issues, but then a lot of the men in the engineering department could say the same thing.
Anyway, there it was, Friday and Bobby's birthday. I always let the birthday girl pick, and she chose a nice little authentic Mexican place that served half-price margaritas on Friday nights. I wasn't a drinker, so it really didn't matter all that much to me, but the girls seemed to enjoy their drinks. I couldn't help but notice that all four of them seemed to get a bit more flirty as the number of margaritas consumed, increased. I wasn't sure whether it was because they WANTED to flirt with me, or if it was because I ended up blushing frequently at their flirtations that set them all off giggling. It wasn't that we never drank alcohol at these functions, but this was the first time I'd seen them consume the amount they had that night.
June, the oldest, only a few years younger than my own fifty-two years, sat almost directly across from me in the circular booth. She was idly playing with the buttons on her blouse, first unbuttoning one and then buttoning it back absentmindedly, almost as if she didn't realize she was doing it. By the time our food arrived, she'd killed her second large margarita and left three more buttons undone than when she'd walked in, exposing her cleavage all the way down to the little clasp holding the two lacy cups of her bra together.
Sheryl, on a bet from Bobby and Mandy, had successfully removed her bra while sitting next to me in the booth without removing her semi-sheer blouse. Her bra, lying in my lap, had been restraining a rather large set of soft-looking breasts, one of which was bumping into my arm every time she leaned toward the middle of the table to get more salsa or chips. At thirty-six she was quite sexy and had a voluptuous body by anyone's standards. If I'd had to guess, I'd have guessed she was a thirty-six D-cup, but now that I could see the label of the bra lying in my lap, I wasn't all that surprised to see that it was a thirty-eight triple-D. I was secretly glad she and I were sitting with our backs to the rest of the restaurant, since I was quite sure her now-unrestrained breasts were showing through her top more than would be appropriate.
Mandy, whose thirty-second birthday we'd celebrated only a few weeks before, was the giggliest of the group. She was also just killing her second margarita when they brought dinner. Mandy had always been the most bubbly and, yes, giggly, of the girls at almost every one of these dinners. She was athletically slender with a modest-sized chest and short cropped blonde hair and green eyes that seemed to laugh as much as she did. No matter what was happening at work, you could count on her to look for the bright side and make some joke about it. I don't think I ever saw her without a smile on her face.
Dinner, having arrived, seemed to put a damper on some of the conversation, which had turned slightly more toward the sexual innuendo side, as they consumed the unusually large drinks. Not saying that I was against sexual talk, or that I didn't enjoy it in the right setting. I just wasn't sure that this was the right setting or, more to the point, a setting where I wouldn't still get myself in trouble if I made a joke that was too off-color. Each time June leaned toward the table to take another bite, her breasts pressed against the edge of the table and pushed up in her bra, accentuating the ample cleavage she was already showing me. I couldn't help but see it because she was almost right across from me, and because I was having a hard time believing it wasn't on purpose. I also couldn't I seem to control the hardening of my cock! Between Mandy's soft breast frequently pressing against my arm and June teasing me with her cleavage, all I could do was hope that the offending bulge would somehow diminish before it was time to leave. I hoped it would, since there was a zero chance that, in their condition, it wouldn't be noticed and commented on.
My hope that no one had yet noticed was very short lived as Sheryl twisted in her seat, pressing her right breast against my arm as she leaned toward me to whisper in my ear, "Is someone thinking naughty thoughts?" just before I felt her left hand slip into my lap and rub lightly over the bulge hiding under the discarded bra.
"Huh? Me? Um, no!" I answered awkwardly, trying to think about anything but the fingers touching my dick through my dress pants and the hardness of the nipple pressing against my arm.
"You sure? Seems like something is getting interested in someone," she whispered, her breath ticking my ear and sending shivers through my body, which was just exacerbating the problem.
"Not me," I said, trying hard to ignore her fingers slowly, teasingly, softly, stroking along the length of the bulge in my slacks and the hardening cock within.
"Ohhhh. I thought maybe you were looking at June's nice big boobs," she whispered.
"Sheryl, this really isn't appropriate," I said quietly to her, slipping my right hand under the table and gently moveing her hand from my dick.
"No, but it's fun, right?" she giggled. "But if it makes you uncomfortable, I'll stop," she whispered with a fake pout as she turned back to the table and withdrew her hand from my lap.
"Thank you," I whispered, leaning over toward her. "And I think you probably better lay off the margaritas! I don't know what's gotten into you four today!"
She turned and grinned at me before turning back to her food again. "We're just feeling good. Just like you feel kinda good to me. You know, one of these days I'm gonna have to find a way to see that special hardware of yours," she said quietly before going back to eating.
"I don't think that'd be at all appropriate."
"Oh Denver, you really can be a spoil sport, you know that? Can't a girl dream a little?"
"Why dream about me? There's lots of good looking engineers you can be dating."
"Yeah. But they aren't sexy like you," she said with a grin again, pressing herself against my arm again, her hand finding its way back to my lap to squeeze my thigh.
"I'm an old man, Sheryl. Not to mention a married man," I said quietly, not wanting the whole restaurant to hear us.
"You know what they say about older men: you haven't been fucked until you've been fucked by an experienced lover," she said with another giggle, more than loud enough for everyone at our table and the tables around us to hear her.
"What's this?" Bobby asked, from where she was sitting across the gap in the bench seat. "Is Sheryl flirting with you?"
"Nope!" Sheryl said almost proudly. "I am most certainly doing a hell of a lot more than flirting!"
"You are so bad!" June said from across the table, rolling her eyes and shaking her head.
