It is three o'clock on a Friday afternoon and I was not looking forward to the weekend. My wife, Kat, had endless galas and fundraisers I was supposed to go to which meant I'd get to spend the next three days watching her flirt with every man in the room and then pass out before I even got a chance to kiss her goodnight. Not that I wanted to kiss her nowadays anyway. Being the president of a huge business firm meant that I spent most of my life working in my corner office. My wife complained I had no interest in her, but how can she blame me. Somebody's got to pay for her lifestyle. And besides, at the office I can admire my very shapely secretary whenever I choose.
I hear a discreet knock on the fogged glass door to my office. I curse under my breath, realizing that I already had my jacket and tie off and my sleeves rolled up despite the meeting that I still had in store. Thinking that it's my secretary to announce my three o'clock appointment has arrived, I shout out a response.
"Excuse me Mr. Waldorf?" She asks, as she enters the office.
"Yes Miss Carlson?" I reply cordially as always, unembarrassed as my eyes swoop over her well-proportioned body. Today, Anna Carlson, my extremely attractive secretary is wearing a thin white button down shirt tucked into a black knee-length pencil skirt and high heals. Except that the shirt is unbuttoned rather low, so as she comes closer I can see her black lace bra that hugs her sumptuous cleavage peeking out. And the skirt is skin tight, showing off full hips and a perky little ass, with a deep slit up the back revealing her long fishnet clad legs. I know for a fact that she only wears thigh high because whenever Anna crosses her legs just the right way, I can see the tops of her panty hose.
"How many time's to I have to tell you, Mr. Waldorf, to call me Anna" She give me a sexy smile, her full pout curving gracefully. Tucking back a stray hair that had fallen out of the artfully messy bun on the top of her head, Anna moves forward. "Your three o'clock just called to cancel. Apparently his flight has been delayed and he'll meet you on Monday instead."
"Thank you Anna." I sighed, disappointed that this news may force me to go home earlier than I had planned. "Is there anything else?"
"I have the final drafts of some letters for you to sign." Anna walks over to my desk and leans slightly over, placing them down in front of me. She hands me a pen from the desk, but I can barely see anything except her smooth, deep cleavage presenting itself in front of me, popping out of the white shirt and clad only in black lace. I absentmindedly reach for the pen, completely missing and nearly grabbing one of Anna's swelling breasts before I come to my senses and take the pen from her. Unruffled, Anna stands up and walks around the desk next to my chair.
"Sign here, Mr. Waldorf," She coos in my ear, leaning against me as she points to the spot on the page and casually draping her other arm over the back of my chair. I can feel her breasts press against my arm and I make a great flourish of movement as I sign, allowing my arm to rub them. I move my arm back to hand her the pen, letting it brush past the curve of her breast. Turning to face me as she covers my hand with hers to take back the pen, Anna lets her eyes flick up and down my body, searching and hungry. She leans in towards me. At that moment, the phone rings.
With the same amount of composure and elegance that she brings to every task, Anna stands up and answers the call with a polite "Richard Waldrof's office". Ever so gently, as Anna converses with the nameless and faceless business executive on the other end, I let my hand move over skirt, cupping underneath her ass and feeling her firm thighs and hips.
"Just a moment, Mrs. Waldorf," Anna says into the receiver, handing it to me. I lick my lips and without looking at Anna, I take the phone. "Yes, dear?" As my wife relays the details of her day into my ear, my hand moves towards Anna's inner thigh. Slipping my hand in the slit of her skirt, I move it up from between her knees, against her fishnet-clad thighs. As my hand moves upward, my suspicions are confirmed as I feel the top of her panty-hose high up her thigh. I feel the thin lace of her panties between her legs, just slightly damp. I slide them down, past her fish nets, past her skirt, forcing them to her ankles. Anna complies by stepping one foot out of them and lifting them for me with the other foot. I take the panties in my hand and put them in my pants pocket.
