Sandra faced her team, all smiles for the first time in several weeks. "You have done a fantastic job, each and every one of you. Our clients were impossible, but you found a way to get past every crazy demand and nonsensical fear they had -- and you did it without them even noticing how well they were being handled. Please go and enjoy your weekends -- you have more than earned a little relaxation!"
The group of analysts, account specialists, and assistants basked in the glow of unexpected praise from a woman who often left them all but quaking in fear. Working on Sandra's team was a double-edged sword; on the one hand, she was known for her perfectionism and her tendency to relentlessly push her staff, but on the other hand, her projects usually scored big wins for the firm and she wasn't afraid to share the recognition with those who helped. If you could survive her working style, your career was almost guaranteed to be improved by association with Sandra. That was why interns begged for summer jobs with her -- and why James had spent the past three months working his ass off to try to get her attention. A letter of recommendation from Sandra would help him find a great post-grad job no matter how shaky the economy was.
The problem? It was like he was bewitched by her. James could hardly look at Sandra without getting hard, and three months of increasing frustration had left him on the ragged edge of control around her. That didn't help his job performance at all, and more than once, she had caught him staring at her breasts during a meeting or fantasizing about what led to the lack of panty lines under her figure-skimming skirts when he should have been paying attention.
What was especially frustrating was that he didn't know why he was so fixated on Sandra. He had never been particularly interested in older women, and while she was far from old, she was at least 15 years older than his 25 years. And at nearly six and a half feet tall, he normally went for tall, slender blondes; Sandra was barely over five feet tall and a carefully concealed brunette bombshell with a gravity-defying rack, tiny waist, and flared hips that seemed designed to draw attention to her high, round ass. She dressed conservatively, but James looked at her and knew that underneath the business suits and no-nonsense blouses, her figure was the kind you'd find painted on the side of a World War II bomber.
As the rest of the team filed out of the conference room, Sandra put her hand on his arm. She said, "James, could you stay a few minutes late this evening so that we can look over your accomplishments during your internship? With the clients satisfied, your role here is pretty much wrapped up."
James nodded and agreed to come by her office before he left for the night. If he were smart, he'd stop thinking about how her touch seared through his clothing, and would instead cobble together a list of his major achievements over the past several weeks so that he could steer her toward writing that letter of recommendation. Instead, he spent the time in his cubicle picturing her, naked, on her hands and knees, looking over her shoulder at him.
An hour later, Sandra was ushering him into her office. She had removed her suit jacket and was wearing a pale gold silk blouse over a chocolate wool skirt. Her hair was clipped up in one of those carefully disarranged styles that women always seemed to wear now. And for some reason, she wasn't making eye contact with him at all.
Sandra said, "James, you've done some great work here. You have tremendous potential, and I think you're a natural for this business. I'd be happy to write you a letter of recommendation."
His jubilation was short-lived. Sandra continued, "But I think we have to address some of your behavior over the past few months. Specifically, your behavior toward me."
James bit back a curse. He couldn't pretend that he didn't know what she was talking about. He certainly couldn't deny any accusation she lobbed at him. He kept his head down, bracing himself for the worst.
"It's crazy, I know, but it seems like half the time you are undressing me with your eyes. I expect that sort of stuff from older guys, the good ol' boys club that used to exist before women like me started making an impact in this arena. But from you -- especially when you asked to be on my team -- I have to say, I was unprepared for this." After a pause, she rambled on. "It's... disconcerting to be in the midst of a presentation and find a member of your own team staring at your tits!"
Her coarseness brought his head up and their eyes connected. Something hot flared between them, and in a flash, he knew two things: one, she was as uncomfortable with this conversation as he was, and two, she felt the same chemistry he did. She wanted him. He wanted her.
James smiled at her, holding her gaze as he stood up and walked to where she was leaning against her desk. A slight flush crept from her collar up toward her cheeks and her lips parted. She licked them, her pink tongue darting out and readying her mouth for a kiss even as she pulled back from him. He stepped closer, still not touching her, but standing so near that she felt the heat from his body as his eyes dropped to her lush mouth.
She trembled slightly as he finally leaned down and claimed her with his mouth, pressing against her unyielding lips until she parted her teeth and allowed his tongue the entrance it demanded. Soft and hard all at once, his tongue stroked hers, coaxing her response. Her fingers fluttered as if she were unsure of what to do, so he took her hands in his and clasped them against the small of her back. Only then did James allow contact between their bodies, leaning into her so that her soft breasts pushed against his hard chest. As the kiss deepened, he reveled in the sweet taste of her mouth, the little sighs she was making each time their tongues met. He didn't know if he had urged her legs slightly apart or if Sandra had widened her stance without prompting, but he didn't care. He pushed his hips into hers, smiling against her pliant mouth as she involuntarily bucked against his growing erection, a movement of need and invitation. She was soft and receptive to everything that was hard and invasive about him.
James battled with his first impulse, which was to rip the clothes off of her body, push her onto the floor, and get the release that he had been denied for 12 long weeks. He wanted something more; he wanted to make sure she never forgot him. So with some effort, he pulled away. The keening noise Sandra made as their contact broke off let him know that he had made the right move. Her whole body seemed flushed, her lips plump from the ferocity of their kiss, her tits heaving like some romance novel heroine, her eyes fevered and unfocused. She seemed almost addled with lust.