It was the middle of the day, and already I was exhausted. Not only was I deep into deadlines, now I was late for a meeting. I took off down the hallway and then, boom. I tripped and fell; my glasses flew off of my face and smashed onto the floor, breaking in half. Perfect. Not only was I scrambling blindly, I just knew that the security camera had caught an eyeful. I was behind with laundry and had skipped the panties this morning. All of my "work" pantyhose were drying on the rack, and so I was wearing stockings, held up by the only clean garters left in my drawer, a gag gift from two years ago. Far trashier than anything I would have bought, they were bright red with black lace. Now there's photographic evidence to prove that the oh-so-serious manager has oh-so-serious bad judgment. I had to get this day back on track. I called the one-hour glasses place, and was told the prescription was outdated and I needed to come in for an exam. I sighed and wrapped tape around my glasses so I could see to drive, and then navigated my way to the optometrist.
They were closing for lunch, and Dr. Rafferty was out sick. The receptionist went in the back for a moment, and then returned, saying that Dr. Benson was covering his shift and would be happy to see me. She picked up her handbag and left me alone in the waiting room. I took off my taped glasses and tried to focus, but everything was fuzzy. Then a large blob appeared at my left, and a pleasant voice said, "Good afternoon, won't you please step into the exam room?" I nodded and followed the shape down the hallway, bumping into the counter and sending a display crashing to the floor. Dr. Benson laughed and said I obviously needed to get my new prescription as soon as possible.
I sat in the exam chair. I could hear him sit on his rolling stool and shuffle a few papers, then roll to my side. The soft fabric of his trousers brushed my knees as he maneuvered closer to me. With his face just inches away, I caught a whiff of his clean, soap-and-water smell. A smile played across my lips as he turned on the chart and asked me to read the lowest clear line. I looked up at him and said, "There's a chart?" Dr. Benson laughed and casually put his hand on my leg. I was shocked but apparently he was too and quickly removed it.
The room got very still for a moment, and then Dr. Benson cleared his throat and began checking my prescription. My leg felt cold without his hand on it. He fitted the contraption over my face and turned the knobs. I heard his voice say, "better like this," and he turned them again, "or better like this?" Things came into fuzzy focus and I could feel his intent gaze. He stood and leaned across the apparatus to make an adjustment, his chest large before my magnifying eyes. The slightest sigh escaped my lips. Sitting back down, he again put his hand on my leg. This time he didn't remove it. I didn't want him to, as I was becoming incredibly aroused. My legs began slowly spreading of their own will, and I felt my right leg press against his smooth cotton pants.
I felt the blood race to my face and to my pussy, and a familiar throbbing between my legs. Having spent life as the consummate "good girl," I felt ready to explode. Absently I answered, "Better the second way."
The doctor rolled a couple of dials and flipped some lenses and said, "better like this," and he flipped them again, "or better like this?" I took a deep breath and slid my hand over his thigh.
"Better like this," I said. He quietly smiled, which I saw a little clearer in the lenses through which I was looking. He pulled the metal unit off my face and pressed his lips to mine. I could feel his hot, wet tongue caressing mine, and he slowly slid down and nuzzled along my neck.
