I was the new hire, the new Chief Information Officer for the firm. The position was new, but the owner had Big Plans for expansion. I was brought on to implement his vision by improving the hardware and software on which the company operated. As with all things business, you have to spend money to make money. The question was for how much money would I ask and then how much could I get and then how would they let me spend it.
That was why I was working on a weekend. I had done my initial survey of the facility, the existing hardware and infrastructure, as well as the current software. I had written up a spread-sheet with projections and now the Chief Financial Officer was going over the numbers with me. Things were not going smoothly. There were a couple reasons for this. One was just the natural tension between the person who controls the money and the person who wants to spend it. The other was that she was knock dead gorgeous and my decision to take the job was instantly made as soon as I had been introduced to her.
On that day she wore a flattering business suit, all in blue, including her hose. Her heart shaped face was framed perfectly by her black hair worn down. Her fingers were slender in my grip when we shook hands and I had to make an effort to not stare at her bee-stung lips when she smiled politely at me.
I was no kid, I had traveled. I had met Asian women before and had admired their doll-like beauty, their grace, the fashion sense which set them apart, but none had taken my breath away as did she. Yes, I interviewed for the job because I knew I could do it, but I took it because it gave me an opportunity to work with her. I knew jobs would come and go, but she was the unexpected polished gem in a stoney life.
We had interactions while I went about the initial stages of the task. I learned she was single but lived with her boyfriend, ten years my junior, her "people" were Korean and were still across the ocean, and incredibly intelligent. Each day was an exercise of frustration as I enforced self-discipline, tearing myself away from her presence to prevent her from seeing me as the creepy older guy as well as preventing the work-place gossip mill from grinding out new rumors.
We had agreed to meet at the office on this Saturday to avoid distractions and the interference that comes with other people demanding attention with smaller problems during the normal work day. This was the first time I would see her in casual clothes and was eager to see the direction of her transformation. Would her skirt go from conservative business knee length to high above the knee? Maybe a sundress! Shorts and t-shirt? I was dressed comfortably in Levi 501 button front jeans and a simple nonsense logo t-shirt, just as comfortable as I could make it. I had my fingers crossed that she wouldn't keep to a casual Friday type outfit. That would probably make me cry.
She was standing at the door, keys in hand, when I pulled into the parking lot five minutes early. She smiled and waved as I slid into a parking slot next to her sensible, non-flashy car. She had opted for jeans and a button-down shirt, sleeves rolled part-way up. I waved back, grabbed a few notes I had made the night before, and left my truck behind, going to meet her.
That smile brightened as the distance lessened.
"Hey, Jason," she said over her shoulder, sliding the key into the slot, "ready to go to work?"
"You have no idea," I replied as I took the opportunity to check the fit of the jeans over her bottom while she was pushing the door open. "I'm raring to get started."
She laughed, motioning me inside. Her fingers danced over the security key-pad, preventing our boss from getting a call from the local police about a break-in.
"I got that sense about you," she said as the beeps gave us the all-clear.
"What's that?"
She turned to face me, nailing me with the way her lips revealed small, white teeth.
"That you're a doer, not a slacker."
"Thanks, I got the same vibe about you, Monica." I waved my hand toward our office space. "After you, m'lady." I wanted her in my view a much as I could.
"That's cuz I'm Asian, right?" she said as her slightly curled hair bounced with her walk. "Always pushing, always excelling, always succeeding! That's us!"
"Is that what it is?" I said as we entered the conference room we had prepped at the end of the previous day. "I thought it was just because you are about the smartest woman I've ever met and amazingly competent."
She paused for a fraction of a second and her face turned up to look at me, now somber.
"Some people think I'm a dragon-lady." Her voice had lost its lightness.
"Ouch! Bitten many people, have you?"
Her smile came back, but the voice regained only part of its earlier warmth.
"Not recently, no."
"Then we better get started so I don't give you a reason to take out a chunk out of me!"
We pulled up our chairs and sat facing each other across the corner of the conference table. Papers and charts not already in the computers were piled neatly between us. Eventually the back-and-forth across the table became comparison and collaboration when I moved to sit beside her. We had just finished a bargaining session regarding new billing software when I looked at the time display in the corner of the computer.
"Holy shit, Monica," I laughed, "we've been at this for almost four hours!"
She leaned back in her chair, arching her back and stretching.
"Feels more like ten," she groaned extending her arms behind her.
I didn't reply because it was the first time I became fully aware of her breasts and was drinking in the vision of them pressed against the stiff cotton of her shirt. I could barely make out the pale bra beneath, supporting what had to be very respectable C cup sized breasts. They seemed larger, if that was possible, because of her slight frame. All told she was about five and a half feet tall and about one twenty with a rather willowy motion over-riding her admirable curves.
Pushing her arms behind caused her to lean forward and the shirt fell away enough for me to glimpse the white frilly garment and a bit of skin.
"You know what you need?" I said, standing.
"A vacation and raise," she answered, now rolling her head with a sigh.
"That's probably true," I admitted, "but I can't make that happen."
I moved to stand behind her and she looked up at me quizzically.
"What I
can
make happen is this:" and placed my hands over her shoulders and pushed my thumbs into the base of her neck.
"Wha—" she began but finished with "Oooooo..." and another sigh.
"I didn't put this in my resume," I worked my thumbs up and down the line of her spine, "I hope you don't consider it a being deceitful."
"Normally," she breathed, "this would be," she moaned, " a fireable offense," she let her chin fall to give me more access to her neck. "But - right there -yessss." She didn't finish but I took it she was willing to overlook the omission.
"Slump forward more," I instructed, still kneading the neck and top of her shoulders. She sighed again, and leaned forward. My hands moved down but the chair blocked me.
"This isn't working," I muttered. "How about," I slipped my hands under her elbows and lifted. She looked at me in askance. "Go with it," I said with a smile.
She rose from the chair and I gently pushed her to an uncluttered corner of the table.
"Up you go," I said.
"What?"
"Just lay down on the table. This will work a whole lot better if you do." I answered.
"n'kay," she said sliding her jean encased butt over the table edge before pivoting her ass to swing her legs up and rolling onto her front, presenting her prone body to me.
"Yeah, baby," I laughed, "now we're talking!"
She laughed in return and cushioned her head with her hands, facing the table edge with closed eyes. I wasted no time in sliding my hands onto her mid-back and pulling out the tricks of massage I had learned while in Japan. I worked on her back, gaining an appreciative sigh and moan now and then, but I knew I could do better.
"This," I said tugging at the material of her shirt, "has to go." If starting the massage was iffy, this was massively over the line. I held my breath.
Her eyes opened, and she looked at me without lifting her head.
"Or we can go back to work," I offered, mentally crossing my fingers.
"Not yet," she said, sitting up.
We kept eye contact as her fingers worked the buttons of her shirt. Suddenly she was pulling the shirt-tails free and the shirt was draped over an adjacent chair.
"You're pretty good at this," she said while she lowered herself to the table top.
"Years of practice," I said, rubbing my hands to generate some heat.
"Lucky girls," she groaned as I resumed my work.
"Lucky me," I said, putting real pressure into her muscles now that I didn't have the friction of the shirt to scratch her skin.
"Meeee tooooo," she sighed.
I felt myself harden as I touched her naked skin. I was amazed at this turn of events. People thought of this woman as a dragon-lady? I decided to play a hunch.
I slipped my fingers underneath the bra strap and rubbed, the upward along the shoulders, still under the strap. I pulled the straps so they no longer were draped over her shoulders, and sunk in my thumbs, running them back down again, moving in small circles under the back strap.
