Desk Set

If that phone rang one more time, I was going to scream. Six projects, all marked "urgent" sitting in front of me and a full morning of meetings. They all worked together to produce one of those headaches that just wouldn't quit. It was 12:30PM and my morning coffee was good and worn off. Even the prospect of a lunch date with a handsome vendor's rep didn't take the edge off my near-hysteria.

My assistant appeared in my door with that look on her face. That look that made me want to throw something at her head. "Mr. Bingman called," she stated. My Board president. He was a case and a half. In addition to being from a planet on which men never learned to type, he was prone to "great ideas" which had no past, no future and no relation to our strategic plan. I took a deep breath and waited for the shoe to hit the floor. Eileen stood looking at me.

"And?" I said, keeping my temper barely in control. I had told her before that I much prefer her to get to the point when she has things to tell me, but apparently her Wisconsin upbringing just couldn't produce that result. My phone rang quietly as I waited for her to finish. Voice mail was just going to have to do the trick for that important salesperson.

"Um... He wants to meet with you later this afternoon about the agenda for next week's board meeting." Her eyes stuck on the desk lamp like it was fly paper.

"Did he say what he wanted to talk about? The board packets have already gone out. The agenda's in print. What does he want to do that can't be done at the board meeting?" I arched my neck to the right, stretching out a pesky muscle set that went charley-horse on me when I was stressed.

"He didn't say. He sounded pretty excited though," she smiled weakly at me and scooted off. Well, at least he's excited, I thought as I picked up the phone receiver to call him. He picked up on the first ring.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Rod, it's Karey. Eileen said you called?" I breathed as deeply as I could, spreading my knees and stretching my spine.

"Hi, yeah, I have a great idea about recognizing donors to the library that I'd like to present to the board at next week's meeting and I've called a rep from a company that does those things to meet with us this afternoon at 4PM. I need you there to talk about our individual and corporate giving campaigns so he can get an idea of what kind of recognition they need."

Thank god we don't have video phones, is all I could think. I had four drop-deadlines of tomorrow at 5PM and little hope of making them if I couldn't get three solid hours of work in on each project. The idea of sitting with my torqued-up little leprechaun of a Board President and some smarmy sales person right in the middle of my available work time made me mouth expletives at the phone. Ultimately, though, I responded as calmly as I could.

"I'm sure I'll be able to accommodate you, Rod... I have a lot on my plate today, but I think Eileen can give you what you need. I'll see –"

"Oh, I'd really rather prefer your artistic eye in the matter," he oiled me. "I really hope we can have you at the table." I breathed in and held it.

"I'll do what I can, Rod. We'll get it squared away, I promise."

"Thanks, Karey! I'll see you this afternoon, then!"

Not if I see you first, I thought as I hung up. I put my arms on the desk in front of me on top of four accordion folders bulging with projects and put my head down on my arms. Would I ever get a stinking break? The phone rang again. Apparently, the answer was no.

"This is Karey Collins," I chanted in to the receiver, not picking my head up off my arm.

"Hi, Karey, it's Greg." Cell phone. Man in car. Handsome man in car. Handsome man in car calling to break our lunch date.

"Hi Greg." There was a static filled silence.

"Are you ok?" He had the nicest voice. "You sound a little down." I had to laugh as I dragged my heavy head into an upright position.

"No, I'm fine. Just a heck of a day."

"So what else is new?" He chuckled. Ever since we'd begun negotiations on using his electronic delivery service for the library he'd been ribbing me about my schedule. Not that he had a vested interest in my schedule. As a married man he was on my "better not" list. Of course that didn't stop him from flirting with me mercilessly and me responding in kind. I dug this guy.

"Not a thing," I purred, enjoying the physical sensation this conversation was engendering in me. Something about his voice, his intensity, made my nerves sit up and pay attention. "You aren't calling to cancel, are you? That would break my poor little overworked heart, you heel."

"Not canceling, just running a little late." I glanced up at the clock. No problem. I could still get some work done before he got there. "About 15 – 20 minutes. I'll be there no later than 1:30. Is that ok?"

"Well, I may have to punish you a little," I grumbled in jest.

"Oooh. Just a little? That doesn't sound like the Karey I've come to know and love."

"That's all you get, mister. And you'd better be grateful it's just a tongue-lashing." This man drives me wild, I thought.

"I'll be there for my lashing as soon as I can. Don't start without me! See you."

He rang off and I hung up the receiver. Jeez. My nipples were hard as little diamonds. All work and no play makes Karey a desperate girl, I thought and stood up from my chair for the first time in hours. I glanced out the door of my office to see my staff bustling about from copier to desk to fax machine. Carrying stacks of books from cataloging to processing. My mood lifted. What was I complaining about? I had a great staff, a great job, a great body of work behind me. Deadlines were passing things. Oh, boy, were they passing. I walked around my desk to close my office door -- something that doesn't get done very often. I had an urge to prep for my lunch a little.

With the door closed, my office was a haven. I adjusted the mini-blinds on the window that looked out on the parking lot and glanced at myself in the full-length mirror on the wall. I was glad I dressed with a little care this morning, working against my tendency to put on comfy and serviceable clothes when I'm feeling overextended. I leaned in to touch up my lipstick and apply a little powder to my shiny nose. Fluff the hair a little, adjust the breasts in the push-up bra to get the cleavage just right. My staff always ribbed me about my low-cut outfits as "un-librarianlike" – to which I replied that's just what I was going for. Made sure the hemline of my black above-the-knee skirt's in place. I put my foot on a chair to smooth my stockings. One of my little vanities – stockings and garters. No one knows but me, but that's plenty. I appraised the line of my leg and high heels in the mirror. Nice. I looked right into my own eyes and made the last decision. I slipped off my black panties. Why not? I slipped them in my desk drawer and buttoned my ¾-length jacket. Let's go have a little fun, Karey, whattaya say?

I opened my door again and sat down at my desk, smoothing my skirt under me to get it to lay between my bare pussy and the office chair. I wriggled a little, enjoying the feeling of my skin against the skirt. Work went on as usual outside, the only thing changed was me. And my mood. I turned to my computer to scan the latest emails that had arrived since I stood up. I was firing back a quick response to a reference question from a patron when Eileen appeared again in my doorway.

"Greg is here for your lunch appointment," she grinned at me – she thought he was cute, too. "Want me to tell him you'll be out or bring him back?" I thought for a moment.

"Bring him back. I have just a couple of things I need to finish before we can leave." I turned back to the monitor and typed furiously for a minute or two. Then he arrived in my door. I looked up to him, taking in the well-cut suit and the well-cut body that lurked beneath. I smiled and he smiled back.

"Come on in, Greg, I'll be done in a minute."

"Wow. You're really efficient, " he growled in a low voice, "I would have tagged you as a woman who needed something more than a minute."

"You, sir, are a pig," I dimpled at him and gestured him to the chair by my desk. "And I'll thank you not to distract me while I try to do my very important work."

"Yes, ma'am," he smiled and took the chair. I finished the email and swung around in my chair to face him. He looked at me deliberately, from my black suede heels to my red lips. I felt a rush of warmth between my legs. Maybe the no-panty thing wasn't such a good idea after all, I thought. "You look great, Karey. No one would ever think you're just a crazy workaholic."

"You're sweet," I smiled and crossed my legs, feeling self-conscious. He noticed the top of my stocking before I could pull the hem of my skirt to cover it.

"Nice," he said directly into my eyes. "Thank heaven not all of my clients look like you. I'd never get anything done."

"Flatterer. You're still in trouble, so don't try to suck up to me," I laughed, incredibly pleased. I could feel the flush rising over my breasts and up to my hairline.

"Oh darn, and that's exactly what I had in mind," despite his rakish smile his eyes burned seriously into mine. Wow. This was the most aggressive he'd ever been. And my body responded immediately. My mind was whirring with the battle between professional ethics and sheer desire that his wordplay was inspiring. I looked down into my lap, desperately trying for an intellectual foothold.

"Wait a minute..." he said and I breathed in and looked up, hoping for a reprieve from this suddenly charged exchange. He stood up and closed the distance between us, leaning over me. I could smell his aftershave and beneath that, another scent that did things to my brain. His hand rested on my shoulder for a moment then made a flicking motion, his other on the desk in front of me. "You've got something on your jacket..." He leaned in to put his lips next to my ear and whispered, "you smell fantastic."

"Um..." I simply couldn't control the jittery desire to reach up to touch his chest between the lapels of his jacket. "So do you," I breathed back, my breasts swelling up toward him, as if they had a mind of their own.

He straightened and looked down at me. My eyes were on a level with the front of his trousers. I saw movement behind the worsted wool that made my pussy react in sympathy. There was simply no getting around this, I thought. So we might as well go through. I took a deep breath of air that was filled with molecules of his scent and made an executive decision in the field. I looked up at him and smiled.

"What say we do a working lunch here... would be much more... effective. In light of the other issues I'm dealing with here," my voice was gravelly but surprisingly strong. He stepped back a bit and put his hands on his waist inside his jacket.

"Hmmm. That sounds like a plan to me. I'm game if you are."

"Oh, I'm game," I muttered, almost to myself, "I'm way game." I picked up the phone and pushed Eileen's extension. "Eileen, Greg and I are going to be eating in and working over things here in my office." I glanced up at him and he smoldered back at me. He shrugged off his jacket to reveal a crisp blue shirt. "Would you call out to the deli for a delivery for us? We'll have whatever's special today."

Greg pointed a finger "gun" at me and fired. "You're the special" he mouthed. Any other time I would have groaned from the corny-ness of the gesture, but this time I groaned from enjoyment.

"Want me to take your calls?" Eileen said.

"Nah, let 'em go to voice mail. I'll deal with it later. But we'll need to work undisturbed."

"Got it," Eileen replied. She was a good assistant, no doubt about it.

I stood up, adjusting my skirt a little and passed Greg who had resumed his seat. I thought I felt a touch on the back of my thigh as I made the turn to close the door. I secured the door and turned my back to it. I leveled a look at the man in the chair who looked for all the world like he owned the place, his arm draped over the back of the chair, smiling at me. Just for a moment, my fevered brain placed a yellow feather in the corner of his sweet mouth. Yum.

"Ok, working lunch. So." Suddenly, I felt shy as a schoolgirl. A schoolgirl with a dripping pussy and no panties. "What's on the agenda?"

"Well," he drawled, stretching his arms then unbuttoning his cuffs. He rolled up his sleeves to reveal smooth muscular forearms. I've always been a sucker for a man's forearms. I couldn't move. "How 'bout we start with your needs." He didn't look up at me. I was released from my paralysis and bustled back to my chair, touching his shoulder as I passed around him.

"There's something I can't hear enough," I laughed, resuming my seat. I noticed a small wet spot on the upholstery before I sat down. I smoothed my skirt under me again and pressed my knees together tightly, squeezing my rampant pussy. I spread my feet apart to keep my knees together. My brain reluctantly let loose it's busy building of sexually explicit images of the man across from me and turned toward serving the library's patrons with the electronic delivery of information. Local history and genealogy, real-time reference and homework help. I struggled to concentrate.

"Those are great shoes," Greg said, his voice barely audible. "Mind if I take a look?" He slid from his chair to a position on one knee in front of me, like a shoe salesman. I looked at him for a moment, then watched as my right leg extended toward him of its own volition. He took my ankle in his left hand, studiously examining my suede-clad foot. His right hand encircled my calf. My legs turned to rubber at his touch. "Beautiful..." he murmured, retaining his hold on my ankle, but turning his body into the vee of my legs. His right hand slid ever-so-slowly up my left thigh, stopping at the top of my black stocking. "I could smell you when I stepped into your office."

"Hunh... really" I was finally able to get out. Apparently my language centers were on lunch break. Every little piece of work that was on my plate slid neatly off as I sat in the chair, this handsome man between my knees.

"Really. And I got hard. You've given me hard-ons on the phone, but I've never had one so hard right in your presence." His fingers were exploring the inch of bare skin above the top of my stocking. He put his nose to the top of my left knee. My right leg was still extended in his grasp. He pushed it out slightly. I could feel cool air on the feverish skin between my legs. I caught a whiff of myself. He looked into my eyes. "I have to have you." His fingers left the lacy top of my stocking and trailed lightly to the center of that smell. One fingertip explored just the edges my crevice, remarkably accurate in it's exploration. A sharp intake of breath and his eyes closed. He put his finger to his nose then in his mouth.

"Jesus." He pulled sharply on my ankle, rolling the chair toward him until it rested against his crotch. He pushed against the edge of the chair, I could see the outline of his hardness and had to reach out to touch it. He caught my hand before it could reach its goal. "Oh, no, Miss Collins. This time you'll have to sit through my pitch before you join in the fun." He grinned and put my right foot on the floor, pulling the chair hard against him, my knees firmly on either side of his hard waist. He pulled open the shallow pencil drawer under my desktop. Peering inside, he gave a grunt of satisfaction. "Just what the doctor ordered..." he brought out two rubber bands. I was intrigued and apprehensive at the same time. He slipped the rubber bands over my hands on the arms of the chair, keeping them firmly but not uncomfortably in place.

"I see how this works," I smiled.

"Do you now?" He growled and leaned into me, reaching his hand under the chair. "Push up with your feet," he ordered. I did as instructed, and my chair rose several inches. My feet dangled. He scooted back to check his work. I wondered what he saw as he perused me, arms affixed to the chair, eyes large with trepidation, breath coming short, making my breasts heave in a most literary manner. He appeared to like what he saw. His hands moved up the outside of my thighs to the bare skin under my skirt. His hands grasped the meat of my buttocks and pulled me toward him. My skirt slid up revealing the tops of my stockings. He sat back on his heels. "Wish I had a camera," he chuckled. "This is a view I'd like to revisit in private moments in the future."

"Oh, I'm not photogenic," I giggled, shaking. I could feel the moisture between my legs begin to flow in earnest.

"I doubt that," he said, serious now. His eyes were fixed on the hem of my skirt. He took my right ankle in hand once again, this time placing my heel on the edge of the desk. The stretch felt good in my elevated position and my similarly elevated erotic state. I felt the lips of my pussy part. He looped his elbow under my left knee and spread my legs fully. My skirt folded neatly up to expose the bare flesh between my legs. "My god, you're so wet." He bent closer to my unfolding sex. His tongue extended and ventured into my not-so-mysterious mystery. "So sweet..."

My head fell back and I gave in completely to the feel of his mouth upon me. Every thought, every response was focused on the meeting of his lips, tongue and breath with my sex. He moved my knee over his shoulder and reached under my skirt to pull my hips harder against his face. His chin rubbed the sensitive skin below my vagina and his tongue probed deep inside me. The sound of his ministrations mingled with whispered groans of pleasure. Whether the emanated from him or me, I couldn't tell. He pushed the tip of his nose gently up, touching the hard little nub that sang with pleasure at his attention. His hands slid to the front of me and he pulled back a few inches to view his handiwork. His attention was fully on my sex and I took the opportunity to study his face. His mouth, cheeks and chin were covered in glistening fluid. His tongue stole out to clean the area around his delicious lips. A groan escaped from deep inside me.

His fingers deftly parted my nether lips, folding back the pink cover from my clit. I looked down to see my little man emerge from the boat. A deep chuckle preceded his dive to take the nubbin of nerve-endings between his lips. My hands clenched on the arms of the chair and my hips levered up as the surfeit of stimulation made me want to call out in pleasure. I pushed hard against his back with my left leg and hard against the desk with my right. In the back of my brain, awash with hormones, I was grateful for the solidity of my office furniture and the flexibility from years of yoga. He reached under to support my pelvis and continued his assault on my clit. I could feel the orgasm approaching from the tips of my toes. As my breathing became more erratic, he slipped a finger inside my streaming pussy, sliding up to spread the juice around the area his lips were treating. The methodic pressure, the penetration and petting marched me right to the edge of the precipice. I arched harder, ready to descend just as the intercom sounded.

"Karey? Lunch is here." We were frozen in place for a moment. His face tilted up, a goofy smile festooned with my juices. He quickly and neatly unfolded my leg from his neck and plucked my foot from the desk's edge. I thought I would scream. Instead, I stood shakily, pulled down my skirt, leaned over to press the intercom.

"Thanks, Eileen – we'll be ready in a few minutes. Tell Tom the deli guy I'll be over later to take care of the bill."

"Gotcha."

I made sure the intercom link was closed and turned to look at Greg who remained below me, kneeling again on one knee. His hand darted boldly beneath my skirt, directly to my slippery pussy. One brief thrust inside with a finger which he then withdrew and put in his mouth.