I work in an office with several attorneys. I just started my career as a paralegal. It's a lot of long, hard hours punctuated by hours of boredom or not knowing when the next big case will walk through our door and provide us all with a bonus that says 'Jamaica!'
The 'guys' (as I like to call my co-workers) vary in height, weight, hair color, and marital status but they share one thing in common: Given the right situation, I'd fuck any or all of them...well, not ALL. You see, there is this creepy guy, Dave.
Dave's a bit older than the others. He's got that 'lounge lizard' quality about him. He's always swaggering around, showing off, speaking loudly as though he's Johnny Cochran, F. Lee Bailey, or Dominick Barber, and winking at me and the other women in the firm like we're 'next' on his list of conquests. Unfortunately, all the men I work with are married or in a committed relationship. I spend the few down times I have, when I'm not doing research or helping to write a brief, fantasizing about quite a few of these courageous, sexy esquires (Dave excluded, of course).
There's one attorney that I just adore, Dan. Dan's got all the qualities I love in a man: handsome, intelligent, witty, kind, expresses himself easily and openly, a killer smile, bright eyes that light up, a great body, and the best part, the tuft of chest hair that peeks out of his collar when it's Casual Day and he's not wearing the standard crisp white shirt and Father's Day necktie. What I would give, just once, to make love to Dan! Sometimes, I have this fantasy about a weekend with him:
Friday: Dan's family is away on a trip and I come over to his house to help him compile his case (no overtime compensation required). I spend the whole weekend there because there aren't enough hours in the week, too many distractions at the office, and the trial starts Monday.
I sleep in the guest room down the hall from Dan's room, when we haven't fallen asleep over papers not yet written or files not yet read. It's not uncommon to wake up with a sticky note attached to my laptop saying "There's coffee in the kitchen. When you wake up, take your time and we'll start again. Thanks for all your help. I owe you! Dan"
Saturday: In this little fantasy, I stumble upstairs, wiping the sleep from my eyes, as I find my room and undress for the shower. I'm slowly peeling off the clothes from the night before, admiring my body in the mirror on the dresser, caressing my soft flesh...all the curves, the dips, the tints and textures that make a woman unique. I'm wishing it was Dan who was touching me. If only Dan's large hands were cupping my breasts, his long fingers reaching to tug my nipples into erect delight, his lips kissing my neck and shoulder while we both gaze into the mirror. I envision Dan's hands moving from my full breasts down over my body, down to my smooth mons. My legs instinctively part and allow his hands to open my lips. He slides his naked body down my lower back and grinds against my ass, pushing his hardening cock into me, as he delves his fingers into my sex. And then there's a knock on my door...
"Jen, would you like me to turn on the shower for you?" It's Dan. Much to my embarrassment, I realize that I've left the door ajar as I'm damn near masturbating in front of the mirror. I grab for my robe and hurriedly put it on. "Uh, yeah, sure Dan. That would be great!" stammering as I quickly cover myself. With my early morning moment ruined, more by my own stupidity than Dan's interruption, I slog off to the shower that Dan's started for me.
Under the steady pulse of a warm shower, I begin to wonder if Dan watched me for long or if he was a gentleman. How long had he stood there? Did I excite him? Did he feel a stirring within his loins? Did he feel guilty about his family while lusting me? Did he feel guilty about violating my privacy...or me, with his eyes? I toweled off and donned my robe again to head back to my room. I dressed and went down to join Dan in his kitchen.
The smell of fresh amaretto flavored coffee filled the air and there were scrambled eggs and toast awaiting me. "A girl could get used to this, Dan!" He pulled out my chair and seated me at his kitchen table. Then he served me the meal and poured my coffee. "It's the least I could do for a woman who works so hard for me." I wonder if he's thinking inside "and lets me watch her touch herself in my guest room."
We discuss the particulars of the case and the latest research over breakfast and then it's back to the grind. During the day, I notice that Dan's actually a little playful...almost flirty (could it be that impromptu peep show that has him suddenly interested?). Occasionally, his hand will graze mine or will rest on my shoulder, longer than usual, as he peers over my shoulder, staring at the laptop screen. I make a note to myself to wear something lowcut for Sunday's day of work (no rest, no play...hasn't Dan ever heard that all work and no play makes Dan a frustrated married man?).
