The Stanger

Not again

, I thought when I walked in the room. I knew Peter and Sabrina were crazy about each other, but this was crossing the line.

"Hey, you two. Mind clearing out? The new boss'll be here this afternoon," I said.

Peter, chagrinned, pulled away from the figure pushed up against the wall. We kept things informal at Beachside Inc., but this was the third time in a month I had caught them in the act.

"Sorry, Stacey," said Sabrina, coming up for air. She had a smudge where her lipstick had been smeared, courtesy of the deep kisses Peter had been lavishing on her.

Interns

, I muttered to myself. The truth was, I didn't mind a little necking in the office myself, not that it had happened to

me

in ages. Secretly it gave me a thrill every time I saw them together like that.

Peter was a gorgeous young man, typical of the type we employed at our real estate office over the summer. His long blonde hair and dark shadowed gray eyes were a hit with the single women looking for their little condos. The four years he spent on the local high school football team meant he was in fabulous shape. Both him and Stacey had graduated that summer and found work together before they left for college.

Stacey was his high school sweetheart; a typical cheerleader with breasts larger than her brain. She had raven-dark hair, curtsy of her beautician, and legs that went to her head. When the potential client was a single male, or even a married couple, we always sent her along to help make the pitch.

And make sales they did. Our old boss, James, had benefited enough from their help over the last few months that he decided to sell the business while it was hot and retire to Florida; which was why we were expecting the new 'James' to arrive any time.

"Just don't let me catch you again. James was forgiving but it's hard telling what the new boss will say. Got it?"

"Sure, thing," said Peter. He gave me a sloppy puppy-dog grin and smacked Sabrina on the ass. She yelped and I felt a small tingle go down my spine.

Wish he would spank me

, I thought and had to keep from biting my lip. It had been far too long.

Instead, I shook my head. The short bob I had gotten when the summer started had been growing out and my bangs swung in my face. I blew them back, the red tresses sticking slightly to the dampness on my forehead.

Who

the new boss was remained a mystery. Obviously he was rich; Beachside Inc. employed nine realtors, several secretaries, and a team of seven interns during the summer months. We served the Northside of Chicago and had the entire third floor of an office building overlooking Fisherman's Wharf with a net worth in the millions. I was surprised when James did sell, he had built Beachside from the ground up. But I guess he had an offer he couldn't refuse.

"Did you at least set up the presentation?" I asked.

"Got it finished an hour ago," said Sabrina. Besides being a ditz, she was mildly competent when it came to technology, a gift of the generation she had been raised in.

"Then why are you still here?"

"Peter came in and distracted me," she said and stuck out a small pink tongue at him.

"And what are you supposed to be doing?" I asked Peter. He still had that winning smile on his face and turned those lovely eyes on me.

"Getting the drinks and stuff," he said.

"And did you?"

"Of course, finished an hour ago," he said with a laugh.

"You guys, you're being paid to work. Not neck on each other. Save it for college."

"Sorry, Stacey," they mumbled and left the room, still pinching and touching.

"Kids," I muttered and went to check their work. Besides a chair out of place from their romp, everything was in order. The tablet was hooked up and displaying our logo on the TV. The conference table had enough chairs for the other realtors and a secretary. The new boss would sit at the opposite end of the room from the presentation and hopefully get to know us and our company better. James had been very hands on from the start but as the years passed and new realtors came and went, he had slowly turned over the bulk of the business for me to handle.

I came to Beachside straight out of college ten years ago and had loved every day of my job. It was empowering to find someone who willing to sell, fix up their place, and find a buyer. My skills in sales helped me get promoted ahead of my peers. If I wanted, I could have gone freelance long before. But it was the accounting and loan office that kept me here. I hated the financial aspect of real estate and it drove me up the

wall

waiting for loan applications to go through, or sometimes fail.

I made pretty decent money, too. The work was stable, at least for me, and I liked working as part of the team. The only downside was that my love life had been non-existent since my senior year of college; aside from a few flings that I regretted sometimes before they happened.

I bit my lip again when I thought about Peter, pressing Sabrina's young tight body against the wall. I tried to stop myself but couldn't resist as I passed the place where they had been kissing. A musky sharp male smell was in the air, masking another more delicate female aroma of arousal. I breathed in deep, luxuriating in the bouquet and closed my eyes.

My hand slipped down to my blouse and I gasped when I felt my nipples, erect against the light cotton blouse I was wearing. My breasts weren't as big as Sabrina's, but they were still upright and firm. I opened my pale blue eyes and caught my breath when I looked down. A pair of waded up panties peeked from underneath a filing cabinet right by my feet.

Bending quickly, I grabbed them. They were silky and black, the kind that showed no panty lines. Not only that, they were still warm from whoever had been wearing them last.

Sabrina

, I thought and brought them to my nose.

What

am I doing?

I tried to stop but couldn't. I never would have imagined I would be sniffing another woman's panties that day, and when they reached my nose I drew the scent in. A floral odor greeted my nose, soft and inviting. I groaned aloud and my free hand found my left breast again. I squeezed gently and my thighs tightened involuntarily.

"A-hem," a male voice said from the other side of the room.

I stopped from screaming and turned, one hand hiding the panties behind my back, trying to find a pocket to put them in.

"I can return when you're finished," he said.

My face turned red at being caught. It turned even redder when I saw who was addressing me. The man before me was just that; a man. If Peter were to stand next to him it would be

easy

to tell who was more imposing, stronger, and better looking, and it wasn't the high school linebacker. The man was a little over six foot, slim but broad shouldered with a face to die for. A five o'clock shadow brought out every strong line on his jaw, and his black hair was cut short but stylish. From his looks he stayed out in the sun quite often but I saw no lines or blemishes. All of that, however, took second place to his eyes.

They were the first thing I noticed and the last thing I would ever want to see. It was hard to tell what color they were, only that they were dark and framed by long eye lashes and neatly manicured eyebrows. They twinkled merrily at my predicament, neither judging nor encouraging, merely observing.

"I- I'm sorry, who are you?" I said, still trying to recover.

"Just a man. Rick Thornton, at your service," he said and held out his hand.

I found myself moving across the room, unable to stop myself from shaking his hand. The other hand still help the panties, trapped behind my waist in the small of my back.

"Stacey Willows. Are you looking to buy or sell?" I asked.

"Buy. Bought, rather. I'm your new boss. Call me Rick," he said, still shaking my hand with a well calloused but soft grip.

"Hi," I said, knees weak and shaking.

"Why don't we have a seat," Rick said. He guided me over to a seat, the one Peter and Sabrina had been using earlier. I sat, and casually threw the panties under the table, careful not to let him see. I crossed my legs, trying to tighten my muscles and keep my arousal under control.

Rick chuckled, as if sharing some secret at my expense. "Good to meet you, everyone seems friendly so far." He took a seat across from me, ignoring the plush one we had prepared for him.

"Yes," I said, still trying to calm my emotions. My heart was in a grip, fluttering madly and making my eyes swim.

"You must be the Stacey that James spoke about. I hear he has you to thanks for making Beachside Inc. a success," he said. His voice was gentle, soothing, and had only a slight drawl I couldn't place.

"The whole team helped me along the way, but yes. James put a lot of trust in me and it paid off for both of us," I said, more than happy to talk about business.

"Good to hear you take credit for your hard work. Listen, Stacey," he said. When I heard my name come from those thick soft lips I felt my heart hammer even faster and my lips parted in anticipation. "I don't want to step on your toes," he went on, ambivalent to my urges. "You have been making this office work for a few years now and really I just bought it as an investment. So I would like to make you the official president of operations, with a raise of course. Can you do that for me, Stacey Willows?"

I gasped. Not at the news of hearing about my promotion, but the power he had when he said my full name. Rick leaned forward, pleased at my response.

"I'll take that as a yes. Now I hear you have a presentation for me. I told the rest of the staff to keep on working, I don't want to mess up what you have going on. So why don't you put on your show for me and tell me about Beachside?" he said. Rick leaned back in his chair, fingers crossed behind his head and interlocking in a hammock for it to rest on.

My head swam. The door to the room with its single small window in the center was shut and I suddenly realized I was alone. Part of it was thrilling, and another part made my head scream; wanting to run and hide from some sort of hidden danger. I squashed that last bit down.

Who could hurt me with an entire office right outside?

"That would be great," I said. My legs were still slightly shaking but I stood up with both hands on the table for support. I went to the wall and turned out the overhead light, leaving only the blue and white logo shining brightly on the screen. When the lights went out I sighed, relieving tension and arousal that was still building up and threatening to spill over. Once I was under control, I made my way back to the front of the room. Rick had a front row seat and his nearness made me shiver. A scent came off him and my body shuddered when it hit my nose. It was a strong scent, stronger than the one Peter had left, and more feral. More predatory. I knew I was acting like a deer caught in headlights and chided myself.

Get

with the program, you can do this.

Picking up the tablet, I began.

"Beachside Inc. is a start-up company in the heart of Downtown Chicago. Our mission is to provide real estate services to the North Shore communities of the Evanston, Wilmette, Highland Park, and the Lake Forest suburbs. We are a full service real estate, mortgage, and title company."

I calmed down when I got through the brief introduction, years of practice paying off. Rick watched me, his eyes shining brightly in the dim light. Behind me a map showed the suburbs where we worked, most of it on the coast.

"Its founder was James Cavanaugh, an entrepreneur in real estate for over thirty years. Our main clients are the young and wealthy, but we also have one full time realtor dedicated to family housing in Southside Chicago, a legacy from where James grew up."

"We make any profit from it?" asked Rick.

"We get a large tax break, and it helps keep the overhead down," I said. The project was James' idea and while not ideal, it broke even and gave us benefits we would not otherwise be entitled to.

"Good, go on," he said.

"Beachside Inc. offers real estate, mortgage, and title services to our client base."

"Wait, could you turn around please?" Rick said.

It was a strange request but I obeyed, unable to help myself. For a second time I felt that familiar flight or fight response well up from the bottom of my shoes, traveling up my spine and making my head tingle. "How's that," I said, giggling nervously as I turned.

My God woman, get yourself under control.

"Great. Perfect. Is that what you normally wear when meeting clients?"

"Yes," I said. So it was a question about fashion.

Innocent enough

.

"No wonder you're the top saleswoman. Professional and good looking. That's a hard quality to come by these days."

My body flushed at the compliment. What he said was borderline inappropriate but I didn't care. I just wanted to please him.

"Thanks," I said with a schoolgirl giggle and spun again, pausing ever so slightly when my back was turned. My spine arched forward, breasts pushed out; I knew he had a generous view of my ass. I was wearing a black skirt, as I did most days, and this one had a slit up the side that traveled only inches away from my panties. I turned back around and caught Rick leering at the exposed flesh.

I caught my breath, trying to remain the professional that I was. Then it hit me. Wave after wave of pleasure, mixed with the scent of Rick, crashed into my endorphin filled mind. Back still arching, I fell against the wall, hands grasping for a hold on reality. The tablet crashed to the floor, forgotten as ecstasy stole my body, manipulating it with tender fingers down to my core.

"Oops, got carried away. Forget what just happened and focus on the presentation, Stacey," Rick said.

As soon as he said my name I came back. The events of the last minute vanished and I looked, puzzled, at the tablet that had fallen from my fingers.

"Let me get that for you," said Rick. He stood up from his chair and bent down, his shoulders tugging tightly at the seams of his sports jacket as his broad muscles worked. He stood up and faced me, eyes telling me to go on. "I'll just stand for a bit, continue."

"Thanks, I don't know what came over me," I said, accepting the tablet from his outstretched hand. I looked at the TV, bewildered but determined to continue. "Beachside offers real estate, mortgage, and title services to our client base. We list everything from new homes, condos, and apartments. Our full service staff is dedicated to the purchasing and selling of-"

"Are you dedicated enough to do anything to sell?" asked Rick.

"Of course, why just last week I had-"

"I mean, willing to do

anything

," Rick interrupted again, stepping closer.

I paused.

That's a loaded question

. "Yes," I said slowly.

"Then prove it. Let's say I'm a new client. I'm looking for a home in Northwood, something close to the water. I'm young, single, and have a bank full of cash. Go."

Anything

, the thought stole across my mind. That familiar scent drifted up my nose, threatening to make me curl up in a ball. Rick was in front of me, close enough to grab. It took my entire force of will not to reach out.

"Hello Mr. Thornton. Thank you for choosing Beachside as your real estate provider. Would you like to take a seat?" I said.

"Sure," said Rick. He was grinning, and the infectious action made me giggle again.

"Please, right over here," I said. I took him by the arm and led him back to the table. My breast grazed his elbow, shooting tendrils of energy up my chest. Another sigh escaped. Regretfully, I let go and took a seat next to him rather than across the table. It was a tactic I had used before to great advantage with some of the younger professional men I had serviced. I scooted back, making him turn to face me. Nothing separated us but the tablet I held in my hands.

"So, I hear you're looking for something close to the water. House or condo?" I asked.

" House, please. Something out of the way of traffic, I like my privacy."

"Privacy? That's not a problem," I said. I leaned forward. One hand fanned my face, desperate to get rid of the warmth still lingering there. The other smoothed my skirt. "Is it hot in here or just me?" I said and laughed.

"It

is

a bit warm. Go ahead and make yourself comfortable," Rick said.

He said it as a request but it came out as a demand, tearing at my good judgment. "Thanks," I said. My hand stopped fanning my face and I reached down, letting a button go at the top of my blouse. A breeze of cool wind brushed against my skin, making my chest rise in relief. When I stole a glance down, my cleavage was obvious, a red flush creeping down from my neck.

"Better?" asked Rick.

"Much. Are you hot?" I asked.

"A little," he said and unbuttoned the top of his shirt. His dark skin continued from his face and I swear I could see rippling muscles on his chest from the small action. Rick leaned forward, eyes penetrating.

"Privacy," I said. "We have several houses in the million dollar range, each with a private drive and wooded lots."

"Go on," Rick said. His eyes were fixed on my chest and I arched my back in a fake stretch.

"Yes," I said. My free hand came up, tugging at my bra strap. I purposely bunched up the shirt at the collar and brought the slack down, exposing more of the valley between my breasts as another button came undone. "Oops," I said but didn't try to fix it. "There are several, shall I go through each one?"

What the hell is getting into m

e? The top of my smooth black bra was nearly visible, a trickle of sweat dripping slowly from my neck and towards the crevice below. My legs uncrossed, a jolt of passion forcing them apart.

"Go into it, yea," said Rick.

He's looking up my skirt

. The thought of someone like Rick watching me gave me a thrill. My legs went further apart, my tight skirt trapping them from going any further after a few inches. I whimpered.

This is getting out of hand

. But I couldn't stop.

I leaned back in my chair, causing my skirt to bunch up at the hips and my chin to come down, further increasing the visibility of my quickly engorging breasts. My nipples tore at their captivity, wanting to be free from their cage.

"The first one offers a boat dock, three car garage, and a small indoor swimming pool,"

I said. I was surprised I could continue to speak. Every sense was aimed at Rick, every movement he made I saw, and everywhere he looked left a burning trail of desire.

"How many bedrooms?" he asked. His hands were clasped together and he placed his elbows on his knees. His breath rushed over me, minty and fresh but warm enough to make me sweat even more.

"Three," I gasped. I reached over and placed the tablet on the table. My hands gripped the sides of my chair and I sunk even lower. Rick gave a pleased grunt, either at the number of bedrooms or the fact that the bottom of my panties were now showing.

"Not big enough. I need the privacy but I have... house guests over all the time," he said and laughed.

I laughed too, unsure of the byplay. "Well in that case how about a five bedroom colonial, same features but closer to town?" I brought a shaking hand to my chest, brushing at the top of my breasts. I couldn't stop, even if I wanted to. Something was taking control of me.

Rick grinned and looked me straight in the eye. "Tell me more," he said.

My hand slipped lower. Slowly, and without looking away from those seductive eyes, I undid a third button. There was no denying it; my bra peeked out, the black cups desperately trying to keep my pale, heaving breasts inside.

"More?" I asked.

"Tell me

everything

," he said.