Christmas Bonus

He was looking forward to going to lunch with her. She was intelligent, fun to be with, pleasant to talk to, and they had grown close over the three years they had been working together. She was an excellent and professional assistant for his law practice, a wonderful communicator, and kept his busy and involved schedule running smoothly. They rarely interacted outside the office; it was a treat when they got some time together to talk about things other than cases and depositions and court appearances, etc.

He had to admit that a part of the reason for his excitement was because she was also such a great looking lady. She was a regular fixture in his active fantasy life. She had an amazing figure for a woman in her late thirties who had borne children, and dressed in such a way at the office that her curves were evident and accentuated, to the point that sometimes he got hard when she walked into the office or even just paused at his door to ask a question. He was somewhat embarrassed by this, but felt there was a good chance that she knew full well the effect she had on him (and any other man with normal eyesight and libido) and took pride and pleasure in that knowledge.

His wife knew he was taking her to lunch for their Christmas gift exchange. They had done this in the office in the past couple of years on the morning before the firm party, but she was taking a trip and would not be there the next day for the Christmas lunch, so he came up with this idea, which he readily admitted to himself was an excuse to spend some time with her knowing they would enjoy themselves.

They went to the fine dining place on the edge of town, and got a fairly private booth where they wouldn't be disturbed. He gave her the gift he and his wife had picked out for her, a nice crystal Christmas star to add to her holiday decorations. She gave him a nice present for him and his wife. He also presented her with the firm's Christmas gift, a nice bonus with a bit more than usual since the firm had a fairly good year.

They were greeted by a very attractive college aged waitress. After the girl told them the specials and left them with menus, she commented on the girl's looks, opining that men would probably find her pretty hot. He was thinking that the waitress was a knockout, but couldn't come close to her in the hotness category, but refrained from making the comment out loud. She then said she wished she could be that young and have that kind of body again. He couldn't let that go, and told her that the girl had nothing on her in any way. She smiled that wondrous smile she had, made even more enticing by the fact that she had the most direct, piercing gaze with her lustrous blue eyes that dared him to try to break eye contact. He often wanted to let his eyes wander to take in the rest of her figure, but resisted the urge so that she didn't think him a lecherous (somewhat) old man.

Without taking her eyes off him, so that he had to exert great willpower to keep from dropping his gaze to the neckline of her low cut dress clearly showing the swell of her breasts, she suggested they order some wine, to celebrate the year. He wasn't much of a drinker, but figured one glass wouldn't matter, so they went ahead.

Their talk covered her family news, his, and office gossip. With a few sips of wine he was finding it harder and harder to keep his eyes on hers and not on the delights of her body, which in turn was making him harder and harder. He was glad they were sitting down, and put his hand in his lap to try to reposition himself to relieve some of the discomfort from his rapidly swelling member. She seemed to smile knowingly, and asked if he wanted another glass of wine. They ordered it, and the food came; as he watched her eat, he even found the way she sensually ate and wrapped her lips around her fork was turning him on. Was she doing this on purpose? He couldn't tell; surely not.

His foot bumped hers under the table or maybe hers bumped his; he had noticed she was wearing some of her dress heels, which always set off her great looking legs and especially her shapely but muscular calves so well. Her foot then bumped, or rather slid along his ankle, then calf, for just a second or two. He almost choked on his wine; was that on purpose? God, he was so hard from just this little bit of suggestive contact. She smiled at him then excused herself to go to the ladies room, giving him a chance to try to get his pounding heart under control, and to assure himself that this was just his imagination.

She came back, and all seemed normal again. He was sure he had been mistaken. They asked the waitress to take a picture, and she slid to the other side of the booth for it. Just as the cell phone camera clicked, he almost jumped out of his seat; below the tablecloth she had put her hand on his inner thigh for just the briefest squeeze. However, she thanked the girl and returned to her side of the booth. He was sure his face was red, and that everybody in the restaurant could see the incredible bulge in his pants. She just smiled and took the last sip of her glass of wine. He was about to ask for the check, figuring he had enough experiences for several fantasies, when he felt her foot on his calf again; this time there was no shoe on it. She looked into his eyes with challenge, and said "Well, are you about ready to go?" Or that's what he thought she was going to say. What he heard instead was "Well, are you about ready to come?"

He laughed nervously, and said something to the effect that it would take lots more than rubbing his leg to do that; both of them knew he was lying. She put her finger to her tongue, wet it slightly, and rubbed her lips with her fingertip; with her other hand, she slowly rubbed her breast through her dress, bringing her nipple immediately erect and visible through the thin fabric. He was puzzled by that; where was her bra? Her gaze had become mocking; her foot travelled up his leg, to his inner thigh. He knew if her foot came in contact with his cock it could be over and he might come right then. She seemed to sense this, and suddenly pulled her foot back and placed her hands on the table. He was already aching for release, but didn't want the sensations to end.

He was completely confused, and didn't know what he should do. Then she said "I took off my bra and thong in the restroom just now." He was sure he looked like a clown, with his eyes (and pants) bulging. "Have you ever gotten a woman off with your foot?" He looked around the restaurant. No one was watching or (hopefully) could see what was going on under the tablecloth. He removed his shoe, and slowly slid his stocking foot up her calf, toward her inner thigh; she spread her legs, riding her tight dress up, and tilted her pelvis so that as the ball of his foot slid forward it came into contact with her throbbing clit and already damp pussy. She grabbed the table with both hands and pulled her chin down toward her chest, and thrust herself against his foot. He was afraid that even the slightest rubbing of his cock against his clothing was going to make it explode, and exerted every fiber of self control to concentrate on his efforts to pleasure her.

The waitress suddenly appeared, and she straightened a bit but reached under the tablecloth and held his foot hard against her; he could feel her engorged clitoris with the sole of his foot. She continuing to guide his foot to stroke it even as she smiled at the girl and told her she had everything she needed right now. He was glad she sent the waitress away; he couldn't have spoken a word. His tongue was thick and his brain was focused now on his foot and his cock and there wasn't room in it for anything else.

With her guiding his foot expertly, she came in about two more minutes. His cock was throbbing and aching as he watched her ride the waves of her climax, her eyes half closed.

After a minute or so, she looked directly into his eyes again and smiled and slowly moved her foot against his leg. "Let's see how long you can last" she said in the most seductive voice he had ever heard, or maybe his ears were also part of his cock now. Her foot again travelled up his inner thigh, and quickly found the bulge in his pants. However, then she pulled her foot back a bit, and said "I'll bet you can't last 30 seconds from the time I touch you again." When he asked what the bet was she said a week's salary; his against hers. He told her it was a bet, knowing he wouldn't really take a week's salary from her and believing at his age he could keep from coming for at least that long.

However, instead of immediately touching him with her foot, she ran her fingers through her auburn hair, arching her back and pressing her breasts and their once again hardened nipples against the thin fabric of her dress. She slowly brought her hands down her throat, then traced the plunging neckline of her dress , caressing herself with a slight nipple twist before licking her lips and putting her finger deep into her mouth, slowly sliding it in, then out then in deeper, all the while keeping her intense gaze on his eyes. He knew he was in big trouble—he wasn't sure he could last any longer even if she didn't touch him. She then slid her foot quickly up his leg to his crotch, and pressed her toes first against his balls then against his engorged cock, somehow seeming to wrap her toes around it, and held it there as he erupted.

He hadn't lasted 10 seconds. But it was the best use he had ever made of a week's salary.