A Game of Inches, Ch. 2
by DirtyMindedMinx
I hit mute on my phone and leaned back in my chair as the faceless participants on the conference call droned on. What was I doing cooped up in this stuffy office while there was a whole world out there to explore and experience? The practical part of me knew there were bills to pay and responsibilities to attend to, but what was the point? I'd spent my life doing the right thing, doing what I was supposed to do, and where had it gotten me? A tiny office in a middling company doing work that ceased to matter to anyone within a month after I'd done it. Doing the right thing wasn't paying off the way it was supposed to.
Removing the old coin from my pocket for the third time that morning, I turned it over in my hand. Definitely a female profile on the one side, and something more complicated on the reverse. Some kind of animal? Maybe a person...or two...?
"Marc, I have those--oops!"
Emily covered her mouth when she realized I was on a call.
"I'm on mute," I assured her and tucked the coin away. "What's up?"
The perky intern came a few steps into my office. Her glossy lips were poised in one of her seemingly ever-present smiles. Her low-cut top clung to her body. She didn't have any cleavage to speak of, but the way the fabric hugged her small breasts gave them such precise definition that there was no doubting her femininity. As sexy as all that was, what really grabbed my attention was her long, slender lower half. She had on sleek black leggings that looked like they were poured on. They had a shiny leather look to them, but they had to be some other kind of material because they gave off the illusion of being wet. It wasn't entirely professional attire for the office, but I certainly wasn't going to be the one to complain.
"The samples you wanted from the distributor just came in. I laid them out in the conference room, but I could bring them here for you..."
"No, the conference room is fine. It'll give me a chance to stretch my legs." As I said that, my mind immediately went back to Emily's legs and the parts of her I'd like to stretch.
"Do you like them?" she said, turning her hips sideways to me and striking a fashionable pose. I was apparently too obvious with my admiration of her body in those tight, wet-look leggings. "I just bought these last night and couldn't wait to wear them. I was worried I might get into trouble, but then I decided I didn't care." She did a little half spin, giving me a gratuitous view of her butt as she did.
"They're...nice. Very nice." I tried to remember the rules they'd given us at the sexual harassment seminar last year, but couldn't think of a single one.
"I was barely able to get into them this morning," she giggled. "I had to take off my underwear so they would fit."
This startled me and I looked up at her not sure I'd heard right. Her friendly smile had taken on a wicked brashness. "I also bought a pair in red. Do you think I can get away with wearing them for casual Friday?"
"I...I sure hope so."
"Let's take a chance," she said with bubbly enthusiasm as if we were somehow conspiring together on these daring wardrobe choices of hers. "Later." Emily gave her backside a frisky spank and headed out of my office.
My mind reeled. She'd always been politely professional with me, but that was well beyond the bounds of our otherwise cordial coworker association. Women simply never acted like that around me...ever. I would have just dismissed it as a random anomaly if it weren't for what happened later that night at the gym.
~ ~ ~
I scanned the noisy warehouse-like space trying to decide which torture device I would subject myself to first. To be honest, I wasn't all that interested in working out. It hadn't taken me long to realize that I only signed up for a gym membership to avoid spending time at home. After a few visits, however, I discovered there were some fringe benefits I hadn't considered.
I ambled to the leg lift machine, set the pin to 80 pounds, and contorted myself into the seat. After only a couple reps, I spotted one of my favorite fringe benefits approaching with a beaming smile. Danielle, my trainer, surprised me by gripping my thigh and then checking the weight I was lifting. She wagged a finger and shook her head. "Those hunky quads of yours can handle more than that," she scolded before going to the stack and moving the pin to 120. It was more of a struggle than I was interested in, but she was right -- I could handle it...barely.
"Happy now?"
"Ecstatic," she answered merrily. Danielle put her hand flat on my chest and gently pushed, reminding me to keep my back flush to the seat and my head leaned back. "It must be a full moon," she said. "All the creeps are out tonight. If you don't mind, I'm going to hide out here with you for a little while."
"What makes you think that I'm not a creep?" I teased nervously.
"Well, you are a man, so you're definitely a creep. But at least you're one of the nice creeps." I followed her gaze as she looked around. I was easily able to spot four different guys openly leering at her. "I suppose I'm asking for it working in a place where I have to dress like this." As Danielle said this, she tugged at the edges of her shimmery sapphire blue leotard where it was riding up her ass a little. She had on some kind of exercise stockings that were opaque but gave her legs a tantalizingly glossy sheen. Even after her attempt to restore a bit of modesty, I could still see the curves that perfectly defined the lower boundaries of her toned ass cheeks.
"Yeah," I responded, feeling my mouth getting dry. "You can't really blame them though, can you?"
"Don't get fresh, mister." Her tone was playful. "At least you have the decency to just take quick peeks instead of gawking at my boobs like we're at some kind of sweaty strip club. Just so you know, this cleavage isn't my fault. They don't make leotards for women with big boobs."