It was 1972 and I had my first office job at a small factory outside of New Britain, Connecticut. The factory floor, where the pieceworkers were busy prying rubber gaskets and such out of the huge sheets delivered to their benches, was on the lower level along with the press workers and tool & die people.
The second story had the offices, overlooking the open factory floor. There were four executives, a half-dozen managers, a secretarial pool consisting of six desks in an open area plan, and of course the cafeteria and conference room.
I'm telling you all this so you get the layout, but of course that's not why I'm writing.
I was twenty years old and unmarried. I had a sometime girlfriend but we weren't having sex because of her strict upbringing, unless you consider hand jobs and pussy-fingering to be sex. We weren't in love, just heavily into "like a lot", I guess you could call it, along with both of us enjoying partying.
There was an office girl (that's what they were calling 'em then, today it's administrative assistant and god-knows-what-else) named Joan. We all called her Joanie. She was there to do work deemed too menial for the secretaries, like filing and document storage, but mostly she made coffee and ran errands.
She was a tiny, pretty little thing with long, straight honey-blonde hair almost to the middle of her back. She couldn't have stood more than five feet in her heels, but she was no mouse. In fact, considering that 80% of the place consisted of female workers, Joanie stood out, mostly by being very helpful and friendly.
Since the Connecticut labor laws required full-time employees to be at least 18, I know she was of age, but damned if she didn't look and seem younger. Maybe it was because she was so petite. My own hands, for instance, seemed double hers in size. I remember she always had a wry, humorous expression on her face, like something was about to make her laugh at any minute. Or, that she had a secret.
I discovered that secret one day when I went over to a manager's office door, one of several guys to whom I reported. I was accustomed to just walking in, even if his door was closed. Luckily, because of the weird sound I caught just as I turned the handle, I stopped myself from fully-flinging open the door. I say luckily because there was no way I could have coped professionally or socially if I'd been caught observing the activity inside.
The manager, Eddie Bowman, was slouching low in his high-back chair, facing somewhat away from the doorway. His huge desk was big enough to mostly hide the other person in the office with him from my view. She was kneeling before the guy. I could just see the top of her head, which was moving in an unmistakable way. It was Joanie.
The weird sound I'd heard was coming from Bowman. He was so deep into the pleasure of what Joanie was doing, he hadn't noticed me opening the door a crack. I stood frozen in place for a few moments, befuddled: why hadn't he locked his door? Was anyone else hearing this? How can I close the door without either of them hearing me? Why in the world would she be giving that ugly bastard a blowjob?
I came out of my trance only when Joanie lifted her head for a moment and looked my way, over the top of the desk. Even through the narrow opening in the doorway I knew she could see who was watching her. I remember her lips were shiny and wet, and her eyes were excited-looking. I closed the door as rapidly and as silently as possible.
I found myself in the men's room, standing at the urinal trying to piss, which I badly needed to do...but my dick was so hard I could barely go. She had been sucking him off! Right there in his office, with the door not even locked. By now he'd probably filled her mouth with his cum.
I couldn't get the vision of her moist and shiny lips out of my mind. My cock was so filled with blood I could barely touch it. I wished my girlfriend was with me right then. I thought briefly of stepping into a stall and relieving myself, but someone could come in at any time. I decided to zip up and get back to work and force my mind into concentrating on something else. Trying not to think of what I might say or do the next time I'd see Joanie.
My desk was behind the secretarial pool, with a low wall surrounding two sides of it, sort of like a cubicle before those became the norm. I made my way back to it with a file folder held in front of me so none of the women might notice the bulge in my pants, certain that my arousal must be obvious to everyone. I busied myself with tidying-up a few mounds of paper on my desk, putting stuff in its proper place, all the while with my mind straying back to that picture...of the sweet office girl Joanie and the way her eyes and lips had shone.
It was only a matter of minutes before I looked up to see Joanie standing there by my desk! She seemed to be studying me. My face grew red in seconds. I could feel the heat creeping up my neck.
"Here's that file you wanted, Mark," she said, loudly enough for others to hear. She handed me a folder with a title on it that was absolutely meaningless to my job, but I studied the name on it stupidly anyway, not able to meet her eyes. Then she lowered her voice.
"Are you free for break in an hour?"
"Huh?"
She smiled, like it was a cute game we were playing.
"You know, a break, at 3?"
"I don't know what you-", I began, but she cut me off with a short whisper.
"Meet me at your car out back, in the lot," Joanie instructed, then abruptly moved on to someone else's desk.
You can bet that things went through my mind in that hour or so until break. My first belief was that she wanted to keep me quiet about what I'd seen. That would be logical. Not that I ever intended to tell a soul. Our management and admin departments weren't a tight, chummy bunch of people in the first place, and it wasn't one of those places where the guys all get together to muse about the women and share tales of who might be doing who. So, Joanie had nothing to fear from me.
The next thing that occurred to me was maybe I should apologize for breaking in on her like that. Not that I felt sorry for doing so, really, but just to give her a break despite her risky behavior. Like I say, Joanie was a friendly girl who everybody in the place seemed to like and get along with, so why not act like it was no big deal?
Anyway, three o'clock finally came and I made my way cautiously out of the building. I wondered if anyone in the place would notice the two of us being missing at the same time. Most everybody else hung out in small groups in the cafeteria or took the two-block stroll to the Dairy Queen (this being summer) during break time, so I hoped no one else would be in the parking lot. Also, it would be great if none of the loading dock guys were hanging around out back. At least there were no windows in the back of the building, thank god.
I found her leaning against the passenger side of my car. Until that moment I wasn't even aware she knew what I drove, which right then was a '68 Camaro I'd inherited from my brother. It was dark blue, I recall, and had way too many miles on it. I approached her, my opening words running through my mind. She looked really nice with the afternoon sun shining on all that hair, slouching there with her arms behind her back in a white peasant blouse, a blue mini-skirt and black heels. Joanie didn't have a voluptuous shape but her body was all female, and she stood with confidence.
