Victoria, flushed with success, was much too excited to wait for the trundling elevator. She turned and eagerly flew up the open staircase, high heels clicking in crisp staccato on the concrete steps, her head resonating with the single triumphant cry, played over and over again: 'WE WON!' Etched in gold, the neat formal letters of the prestigious law firm of Holcomb, McNab, and Fields greeted her as she fumbled for her key, gleefully wondering how long it will be before 'Alcott' was added, stenciled proudly on this very same door. It seemed inevitable after tonight, after today, she corrected herself. It had been a long day, but what a day it had been!
Once inside the darkened receptionist's area, briefcase and raincoat were flung carelessly aside, and the exuberant lawyer threw back her head and raised her fists in the pose of a triumphant prizefighter, all the while cackling with delight. For a moment she stood in the middle of the darkened suite of offices, beaming to herself, elated, wishing only to savor the delicious moment. Then she looked around her, and spotted the sliver of light under the door of Aaron's office. What luck! He was working late tonight.
Impetuously, she rushed towards his door wanting to share this moment, needing to have Aaron appreciate her brilliance.
"We WON!" Victoria gushed, bursting through the office door.
Aaron Spaulding, mildly startled, looked up to peer at the attractive brunette over the half-glasses he used for reading. Sitting back behind his desk in shirt sleeves and vest, he regarded her with his watery blue eyes for a moment as she stood before him, hands on her hips, bursting with her triumph. She was grinning broadly, her animated face flushed and warm with excitement; a few wisps of fine dark hair had escaped from her otherwise neat chignon. He couldn't help the wry smile that came to his lips when he saw her girlish enthusiasm.
"We got the sonvabitch!" Victoria crowed. "Even old Fennerman had to agree. He gave us everything we wanted! You should have seen Smollet's face," she giggled happily, wrapping her arms around herself, unable to contain her glee.
Aaron's smiled broadened. "We should celebrate!" he announced with a decisive nod. He went to the credenza and poured a generous splash of Scotch into each of two glasses, filling them halfway up with water from the carafe. There was no ice, but this impromptu celebration could do without the amenities. He handed her a glass, and raised his to her, nodding his salute.
"Congratulations, Victoria. To you..." In his eyes she saw something...a respectful appreciation?.. a new regard? She smiled and briefly lowered hers, fine lashes fluttering down over those large eloquent eyes, dark eyes that silently accept his tribute.
She lifted the glass to her lips and took a long gulp of the smooth fiery liquid, welcoming its flooding warmth. Her eyes smiled back at him over the rim of her glass.
"I feel like doing something," she enthused, swirling around as though she were about to break out in a dance.
"Well," he began tentatively, "I guess we could hit Georgio's for a few drinks."
She paused in a half turn, stopping to regard him with a contemplative look, that surprised him.
"Yeah,..we could," she agreed dubiously. "Or we could also stay right here," she added in a voice that was lower, and coyly seductive.
His eyebrows arched up in a mildly quizzical expression, as he took a sip of his drink, waiting, wondering just what she has in mind. Victoria grinned at him, came around the desk to where he stood cradling his drink, an uncertain smile playing over his lips.
"Remember that ABA convention in the Berkshires?" she asked in a husky whisper, her eyes searching his face. He managed to nod. "Does that offer still hold?"
Now it was Spaulding's turn to grin. It had been early on in their relationship. She was just out of law school and had been with the firm only a few months. And she had turned him down, politely, but flatly, telling him she was involved with someone, which was true...at the time.
But that was then, and now...well it was different. That was years ago, before she come to know Aaron as a trusted friend and colleague. Besides, Scott was long gone. After Scott, she had plunged into work, intent on proving herself, on nothing but building her career. And for a long time, an incredibly long time it seemed to her, as she thought about it tonight, she had been without a man. And here was Aaron, good old reliable Aaron. Aaron with his thinning hair and slim boyish figure, his vest open, tie askew, smiling crookedly at her. Aaron who liked her, who cared about her, who knew the thrill she felt tonight.
She moved closer till only a few inches separated them. Gazing deep into his eyes, Victoria lifted an exquisite hand to place a single pointed finger on his temple and trace a line down his face, drawing the single finger down over the slight stubble of his five o'clock shadow. She gasped in surprise when he suddenly grabbed her and kissed her, and she found herself kissing him back, long and hard. Their tongues did brief battle in a frenzied dance, as she pressed herself to him, rubbing deliciously against his loins, letting him feel the heat of her body, the rut of desperation in her loins.
Spaulding embraced her hungrily, surprised, yet pleased beyond his wildest dreams to feel the sudden urgency of this vibrant girl's passion. Victoria was a healthy young woman whose sexual appetites had been suppressed during long months of abstinence and now those needs, powered by the pent up energy of the long exciting day, brought to a fever pitch a raging lust that seemed insatiable.
He kissed her greedily, seeking her mouth, her cheek, her chin, her neck, his own passions excited beyond belief to be able to have this dark haired beauty, the object of so many of his fantasies, to take her in his arms at last. And as they stood there writhing against each other, locked in passionate embrace, her frenetic hands traveled up and down his back, finally clasping his butt.
She pushed herself back from him. "Let's get undressed," she whispered eagerly; shoulders heaving with her ragged breath.
Victoria's hands flew to his tie, to the buttons of his shirt, the frenzied fingers working expertly. He wondered if she meant to tear the clothes from his body.
"No!" he stopped her decisively, clamping a wrist and firmly removing her hand. She looked at him with a quizzical expression, but his eyes were smiling. "You first. Go on, I want you to take off your clothes for me, slowly, piece by piece." he urged softly, edging back to resume his seat behind the desk, leaving her standing there alone.
Victoria managed a slightly embarrassed smile, a little self-conscious yet secretly thrilled that he wanted to see her strip for him. Her hands went to the lapels of the tailored, navy blue jacket she wore and she started to peel it back, twisting her shoulders to free herself, but again he stopped her.
"No...wait. I want you to do just what I tell you to do, okay?" he asked.
Victoria's lips parted as though she were about to say something, but she only nodded.
"Good. Now, first your hair...let your hair down."
She looked down at him where he sat, sprawled back from his desk, coolly appraising her, and her lips broadened in a sexy smile. She reached up and removed a few strategically placed pins, and then with a quick toss of her head, she sent that marvelous rich mane of dark brown hair cascading down to her shoulders.
Now, keeping her eyes on his, she went back to removing her jacket, but paused to look at him quizzically. Spaulding nodded his approval and she quickly slipped out of it, and tossing it on the chair that stood at her side just in front of his desk.
Spaulding, letting his eyes drink in the stately form of the tall dark haired woman, appreciated how much more feminine she looked once freed of the severe business suit jacket. She was wearing a white silken blouse with billowy sleeves banded at the cuffs. A long cravat, also of the same white silk was tied in a loose slip knot around her neck. The soft blouse flattered her lithe figure, for unlike the squarish cut jacket the hard padded shoulders of which defied her femininity, the blouse's shoulders, softer and more pliant, naturally followed the gentle contours of her slender lines. In the front the blouse was pulled taut, stretched over smoothly mounded breasts to be tucked into the sung waistband of the slim straight skirt she wore.
"The skirt," he muttered softly, struggling to keep his voice low and calm, fighting not to let his excitement break through.
The smile faded from her lips and Victoria stood there staring at him as though transfixed. Spaulding, suddenly anxious, wondered if she was having second thoughts. Would she rush to grab her jacket and run out?
But now a curious look crossed the young woman's pretty face. The tense excitement of the day seemed to drain away, as her features slackened so that her face became expressionless. She stood with hands at her sides, eyes fixed on some distant place somewhere over Spaulding's head as though she had fallen into a trance, strangely detached from what her hands were doing as they moved as though they had a will of their own, going behind her to work open the clasp of her skirt and lower the little zipper they found there.
Hooking her thumbs in the waistband, she worked the loosened skirt down the full cradle of her hips, bent over to run it down her legs and then briskly stepped free of the fallen garment. Spaulding now discovered that under her skirt she wore a half-slip, a short creamy thing with a wide lacy boarder that ended in a scalloped hem that rode just above the knees. Without pause, she bent down and ran the flimsy slip down her legs, stepping out of the puddle of silk that ringed her ankles, and straightening up to offer herself to him, clad only in the silken blouse which hung loosely on her slender frame. The white blouse fell in straight folds, the bottom edge barely covering her hips. Skirtless, the attractive brunette displayed a pair of long glamorous legs sheathed in the fine mesh of honey-tinted pantyhose, now deliciously unobstructed for most of their splendid lengths.
Pointing to one of the office chairs, he had her take a seat across from where he sat. There she was to slip off her shoes and remove her pantyhose, while he watched. Victoria squirmed in the deep leather chair, easing the pantyhose down her long shanks, tugging it lower, bending down to work the clinging nylon down her legs and off her feet. She couldn't help looking across to see his reaction while she peeled off her pantyhose, and tossed them aside, feeling marvelously free. He nodded his approval and, with a little grin, urged her to slip her bare feet back into her shoes and then stand up and approach him. A twinge of wicked excitement shot through the girl.
He beckoned her closer. Now she stood looking down at him, bare legged, in her high heeled pumps, still wearing the blouse with its long shirt tails. He had her gather up the hem of the blouse and raise it up, smiling to see her underpants, the plain pink panties she revealed as she held the hem of the blouse up above her waist. And he reached out for her. Victoria closed her eyes and drew in a little gasp of breath as his hands clamped her waist and followed the flare of her pantied hips. Now he studied her sculpted loins, lean and elegant, and the pair of salmon tinted briefs: high-cut at the hips with swooping leg bands that curved down and in to the juncture of her legs where a reinforced gusset molded her gently mounded pubis. For a moment he held her like that, drawing her hips closer so that her body swayed back in long bow, while he examined the gentle mound at the front of her panties.
Then she felt his fingers plucking the waistband, felt her panties being peeled down over her hips, lowered inch by inch to uncover her dark pussyfur, a thick tangle of pubic hair that trailed down into a small tuft between her legs. Slowly, the panties were drawn down to span her knees, suspended there for just a moment till Victoria helpfully brought her legs together, and gravity took over, sending the useless panties dropping to the floor to collapse in a puddle of soft silk. Spaulding reached down for the crumpled panties that still ringed her ankles and urged her to lift each foot in turn so he could pull the fallen underwear over her pumps. He briefly fingered the silken scrap before tossing it aside.
