Author's Note: This story was co-authored by Bazzle, my introduction to the concept of smoking as a fetish. My original idea doesn't really have enough focus on the smoking itself to tick all of the boxes but, with Bazzle's help, some of that focus was brought back and I'm quite happy with the end result. I'm already looking forward to making another attempt to better depict smoking fetishes in the future.
Désirée stared blankly at her computer's monitor as she sat at her desk, her elbow against the desktop and her cheek resting on the palm of her hand as she absentmindedly scrolled through the messages in her inbox. As had been the case for most of the afternoon, there was nothing demanding her attention, something to be expected on a Friday afternoon. The last thing that anyone in the office had on their minds was work as they watched the clock and anxiously waited for the weekend to begin, and being an administrative assistant meant that there was nobody to assist. It was just as well; Désirée's attention was hardly on work, either.
Rather than watching the clock, however, her attention was being repeatedly pulled away from her monitor and toward the double doors to the hallway leading to the elevators. Every time she heard the elevator announce its arrival on the floor and the footsteps and voices that followed, she excitedly turned her gaze toward the doors. Without fail, disappointment caused her to sigh with frustration when the footsteps continued past the doors or the voices were unfamiliar. She repeatedly consoled herself with the knowledge that with so many finally dragging themselves back from lunch to their offices to pretend to be productive for the rest of the day, her true objective would be doing the same at any moment.
Désirée's wait became agonizing as she spent the better part of an hour going back and forth between her largely ignored inbox and absentmindedly poking at the screen on her phone. When her anxiety finally began to get the better of her, pretending to have any interest in working was abandoned in favor of opening her purse and running her hand through its contents until her fingertips brushed across the textured surface of an ornately decorated antique silver cigarette case. Closing her fingers around it, she'd nearly freed it from her purse when the ringing of the elevator caused her to jump in surprise and drop it. Groaning as yet another unfamiliar voice reached her ears, Désirée found herself begrudgingly grateful for the interruption of her thoughts as her eyes fell on the cigarette case again. It had given her enough time to consider the fact that, as badly as she needed to soothe her nerves, it would undo all of her planning that had led to that very afternoon. There was no hiding the smell of smoke entirely and, when the true focus of her attention arrived, she didn't want anything giving away her intentions. That honor would be hers alone.
Though her dedication to adhering to her plan had been renewed, that had done nothing to make the wait any more bearable. Désirée shifted anxiously in her seat, rubbing her thighs together and taking a small amount of pleasure from the feeling of nylon against her skin. Her interest in them had initially been entirely aesthetic, yet another part of her planning to draw the attention of her target. As she grew accustomed to them, however, she found that the sensations that came with wearing them excited her just as much. As she moved in her seat, she could just barely feel the garter belt around her hips. Her fingertip traced one of the suspenders down her thigh, and it lingered on the impression that one of the metal clips made in her skirt as it gripped the top of her stocking. Everything that pressed against her skin was a reminder of what she hoped to accomplish.
In spite of her efforts, the pendulum began to swing in the opposite direction as Désirée's nerves began to get the better of her again. The weight of the significance of what she was about to do became oppressive. She had been attempting to lure and entice for months at that point, but there had always been a limit to how far she'd been willing to go. It was dangerous in a number of respects, but consequences were hardly enough to deter her. It was the anticipation that was taking up the most room in her thoughts, the endless waiting to begin the journey toward satisfaction. She nervously glanced at her purse on the edge of her desk, her mind again drifting to the silver cigarette case inside as she desperately craved anything to take the edge off of her thoughts.
No...not yet. I don't want to spoil the surprise. Besides...this will be worth the wait.
Her patience seemed to be rewarded with instant gratification as, just as she'd managed to convince herself to be patient and stick to the plan, Désirée again heard the elevator arrive and footsteps approaching. She was just about to give herself another reminder to remain calm when she heard a doorknob click just before the one of the doors began to swing open. Her heart suddenly hammering, she sat up straight and launched into her practiced routine of looking busy when Stephen walked in. Speaking words of parting over his shoulder, he crossed the reception area and headed toward the doors to his office, halfway across the room before his eyes turned toward Désirée. Pretending to have just noticed him, she looked up and smiled politely. Her nerves again sent a wave of anxiety through her as she took in his expression, returning her polite smile but looking amused. Whatever he was actually thinking remained secret as he passed by her without a word and headed into his office before quietly closing the door behind him. Désirée didn't have to try very hard to guess as to what was on his mind. He was quiet and polite to a fault, but he wasn't an idiot. The most logical explanation was that her ruse hadn't been nearly as effective as she'd envisioned.
Alright, Stephen. You win this one. Don't worry...I'll get one up on you soon enough.
With a deep breath, Désirée pushed her chair back from her desk and stood. Finally using her webcam for the first time that week, she quickly checked her appearance. As always, she pushed the boundaries of the company's dress code to their absolute limits. She opened a button on her blouse and tugged it down to ensure that it revealed her décolletage and only the most subtle suggestion of cleavage beneath. She pulled her blazer closed and buttoned it before looking at herself in the monitor, satisfied with how it well it conformed to her curves. Only barely managing to cover her, she'd had it altered specifically for how it subtly drew the eye to just how full her bust was. She smoothed the wrinkles from her pencil skirt before tugging it higher on her hips, the hemline rising another inch from its already questionable position well above her knees.
Taking a look at her short black hair, excitement drove her to quickly decide that it was in an acceptable state before grabbing her purse and heading toward the door to Stephen's office, her four inch heels loudly tapping the floor tiles with each step. Making the sound of her footsteps echo was entirely deliberate, a habit she'd formed not long after she started working there. She'd quickly come to the decision that she always wanted Stephen to know she was coming. She wanted him to anticipate her arrival as she approached and, more than that, she wanted his thoughts lingering on her appearance after she left.
Désirée was acutely aware of Stephen's fascination with the aesthetic of the office settings of a bygone era, something he'd casually mentioned in passing long before either of them worked there and no doubt forgotten that he'd told her in the years that had passed since. She knew that he had a passion for all of the small touches in appearance that had been all but lost to time. Little things like tie bars, cufflinks and watches were always a part of his appearance, and Désirée was well aware that his fantasies included having a sexy assistant who shared his interest. Though his capacity for restraint was impressive, she'd caught him appreciating her attention to such details more than once. When he thought she wasn't looking, his eyes often lingered on the nylon stockings on her legs as she crossed them. Smiling to herself, she again thought of the cigarette case in her purse, something that captured his attention as often as her crossing her legs.
Reaching the door, Désirée took a deep breath to settle her nerves and remind herself that she was the one who was supposed to be in control. Still, she grabbed the doorknob with more eagerness than she intended and paused, giving another silent reminder to herself and taking another deep breath before calmly opening the door.
"Désirée!" Stephen, who looked as if he was settling in for several agonizing hours of pretending to work along with everyone else, quickly turned toward the door in surprise as it opened. "Don't you ever knock?"
Désirée allowed herself to smile as she calmly shrugged and slowly crossed the office, blatantly ignoring his surprise. "Can't say that I make a habit of it, no."
Stephen's eyes narrowed as Désirée reached his desk and, turning her back to him, took far longer than necessary to lift her hips and needlessly bent forward slightly as she took a seat on the top of his desk. Keeping her face turned from him, she allowed herself another smile when silence hung in the air. He didn't immediately speak, but his lack of a response suggested that he'd noticed.
"Didn't you
just
go through counseling about office etiquette?"
Désirée laughed softly in spite of herself as she placed her purse on the desk next to her thigh and opened it. He was definitely employing his practiced disciplinary tone, something she found irresistibly cute. "I jumped through the hoops, if that's what you mean."
"And?"
Again, Désirée shrugged as she pulled the silver cigarette case from her purse. "Didn't take." She slowly crossed her legs before looking over her shoulder and glancing at Stephen from the corner of her eye, ignoring her heart's skipping a beat as she saw his eyes drift from her legs to the case in her hand. "You're not gonna report me, are you?"
There was a clear conflict of interest playing out behind Stephen's eyes as he swallowed hard, apparently trying to collect himself. Désirée continued to hold his gaze, looking him in the eye until he finally faltered and turned his eyes back toward his monitor with a huff. "I didn't report you last time, did I?"
Feeling comfort from having won another unspoken battle of wills and beginning to relax, Désirée forced herself to keep her head held high as she repressed the urge to sigh with relief. The question of who had reported her behavior had been weighing on her far more than she'd been willing to admit, causing her to wonder if she'd misinterpreted the perceived interest in her incessant open flirting. Still, she'd finally regained control and couldn't afford to let it slip from her grasp. Pushing her relief aside, she forced herself to remain aloof.
"This is why copy rooms need locks. I've always said that."
"No, this is why employees should conduct themselves appropriately."
"That's for quitters. Why give up on something when you can just get better at doing it instead?"
"Désirée, you really need to--" Working up the nerve to make another attempt at admonishment, Stephen's eyes were drawn to Désirée's hand as it again went inside of her purse and, this time, produced a matching silver lighter. Looking back to her other hand and finally realizing what she'd pulled out the first time as the cigarette case opened, his sense of responsibility caused his mind to rapidly shift gears. "Désirée! There's no smoking allowed in this building!"
Without a moment's hesitation, Désirée pulled a cigarette from the case and slowly placed it between her lips. "So open a window. I won't tell if you don't."
"Désirée, listen. You're my subordinate, which means that you are
required
to listen to me. What you're doing is a direct violation of--"
Silently cutting across him and derailing his train of thought, Désirée lifted the lighter and smoothly flicked its lid open with her thumb before sparking it to life. She leaned forward and placed the end of her cigarette into the dancing flame and inhaled slowly, then turned her gaze back to Stephen. As she flicked the lid of the lighter shut, she silently stared at him as she continued to inhale, the cigarette paper fizzling and crackling as the cherry began to brightly glow. Still holding his gaze, she pulled the filter from her lips and slowly exhaled, wisps of smoke gently rolling from her parted lips and nostrils. She ignored the tingling and warmth of having finally indulged after spending more than half of the day doing without, focusing on keeping her neutral expression steady as she continued to wordlessly stare, daring him to continue his protest. She held back her smile as he finally broke eye contact and turned back to his monitor in frustration, another battle of wills ending in her favor.
"You're going to get us
both
