Thanks to Mistress_Joli who wet my appetite (and how!) with "Griff and Georgie: An Office Romp". Read it—you won't be disappointed. This is a corresponding story. Perhaps there will be more episodes based on further collaboration. Let us know what you think.
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One floor above me works Harvey Jameson, a businessman who knows how to close a deal and hire an attractive assistant. I'm a firm believer in both propositions from first hand experience, if you get my drift, or my name's not Griff Hawkins. His assistant, Miss Simpson, or Georgie as I've come to know her, has had some interesting times with me. That young lady certainly shows attention to detail, I'll give her that; she knows when to be discrete and when to throw all caution to the wind. There's a lock on my office door for that.
Now Harvey, he can smell a business deal a mile away like a bloodhound on a mission. He's not quite so good when it comes to noticing details about women. Oh he knows how to butter up a client something fierce, man or woman, but he hasn't noticed my affair with Miss Simpson yet and that's just how I mean to keep it. Oh, he knows I have an eye for her but he doesn't know just how far the two of us have taken things.
I have nothing whatsoever against Miss Simpson save for one thing which I'll elaborate in a moment, but I will say she's one smart cookie and doesn't miss a beat when it comes to both the business and the personal. Take my ties for instance. She made sure to gain intimate knowledge of my preferences and I have to admire how she has fulfilled my desires; whenever Harvey takes a shine to drop me a business present she picks out something mighty pretty that suits me to a tee. And as another example, take her underthings. The moment she found out I was likely to again rip off her panties, she obliged me by dressing in the cutest little things you ever did see. My oh my, that Georgie girl has a figure that sometimes drives me near insane.
She's without doubt the most sexy, most beautiful woman I've set eyes on. And that brings me to the one little thing that I do hold against her: she's a tease. There have been times when I'm sitting in my office holding a business meeting with clients, after one of Miss Simpson's lightning visits to drop by for a moment and impart business information or to drop off some papers, and she never fails to incite my deepest desires. I find it hard to concentrate after she's breezed through.
It was on one such day that I decided it was high time to teach her a lesson; not a bad lesson mind you but a lesson in teasing, pleasure and release, and that she was not the only one who could tease. Therefore I summoned her to my office late in the morning after just such a meeting. It was on a day when she had worn some deliciously lovely shoes highlighting her oh-so-sexy legs and had paraded them in front of me prior to the meeting but without sufficient time for me to do anything about it.
"Miss Simpson," I said when she entered my office, "please have Harvey read this memo and give me his thoughts. As for you, be ready to be picked up for dinner at six, and you can busy your imagination about what I have planned following that."
She closed my office door behind her and walked up to my desk.
"Griff, you have such a wicked smile on your face this morning. You must have something special in mind." She licked her red lips in her peculiarly suggestive way.
"Oh, indeed."
"Are you going to give me a hint of what's in store?"
"Miss Simpson, isn't it time you were going now?" I said with a glint in my eye.
She planted a lips-parted kiss on my mouth with more than a hint of tongue and was about to escape when I caught her back to me in a strong embrace. I could feel her breasts pressed against my chest while we kissed again, languidly, our hot tongues probing slowly as my hand rose behind her to clutch that wonderful round derriere and press the cleft of her thighs into my groin. I released her and showed her to the door, and noted with satisfaction that she seemed a bit weak in the knees.
* * *
The clock on the afternoon wall of my office seemed to tick in slow motion as I willed the hands around and around, thinking about that gorgeous face and smile one floor above me, relentlessly attached to the most desirable breasts, legs and thighs imaginable. Finally it was time to leave the office; I changed from my suit du jour into a pinstripe accompanied by shiny Italian leather shoes, added a hint of aftershave to my throat and whisked away in my convertible to pick up the waiting Miss Simpson. I arrived on the dot of six and she was ready—and boy was she dressed to kill in a black slip of a dress that didn't reach the knees and barely covered the tops of her gartered stockings. It had a daring neckline too.
"You like fruit, don't you Georgie?"
She was clearly nonplussed by this opening line as I guided her into the passenger seat and closed the door.
"As in a banana?" she said, giggling, after I revved up the engine and pulled away. I could see this would be a long evening.
"I know a particular banana you love," I said, changing lanes and accelerating, "but I had in mind something else, perhaps cherries or plums."
She thought that over and shot me a look.
"Griff, I can see you have definite ideas."
As I drove, I put my arm around her, snuggling her shoulder into me and let a finger drop lightly to the curve of her breast at the edge of the dress fabric. Oh yes, I had ideas all right.
