"Erica, you're missing the weekly divisional meeting! Jim sent me to get you."
"Oh, holy crap..."
Fresh from my erotica stupor I got up from my desk to make what was left of the meeting when Dee said, "Oh no, Erica, the mini skirt!!!" Like I was strapped to plutonium.
All of a sudden my resourceful secretary whipped off her skirt, "Quick! Take off the mini and trade me."
"Oh, Dee, I knew you liked me but to come on to me like this," I said teasing her.
"Very funny." She zipped me up in the back and I ran for the door only to stop and lean back in, "You do have great legs," and took off.
Every last guy at the meeting was visibly disappointed that I'd ditched the mini skirt. On the other hand when I came back to my office there were no less than 4 guys surrounding Dee's desk, schmoozing and laughing. When she could see me I mouthed the words, "Do you need help?"
"Lunch," she mouthed.
I approached her desk, "Alright you sharks, the gorgeous Dee and I are going to leave you to circle the pool elsewhere."
As we left for lunch, they couldn't take their eyes off of her rear end, the mini enhancing the already magnificent. Walking from the car to the deli wasn't much different. Dee's natural assets and my skirt were a big hit with passersby. One bold guy ran up to her with his business card, "Call me," and ran off.
"I think I've had enough attention for one day," she said.
"Yes, you have but," I cautioned her, "isn't it kinda fun? Are you sure you want to go back from screaming hottie to regular hottie? And you might get an erotic storyline out of this."
She laughed. "I see what you're up to. Okay, I'll wear it the rest of the day but promise me you won't ever show up to work with a mini skirt again. I'm only saving you this once."
"Thanks, Dee, you're the best."
"I'm a dope but you seem at loose ends."
"I know. My head is so far into this erotic storytelling all I think of is writing more."
"Sounds like you need to get laid. Where's your husband in all this?"
"He's around but he's so, I don't know, he's too polite. Sometimes I want to be that dirty girl, Ashley, my mind dreams up. I'll send you the second part this afternoon after I let Jim read it."
Dee shook her head, "I still can't believe you have that agreement. Eventually he's going to bust a spring and want some of that dirty girl in his office."
"I know, that's what we're trying to avoid."
"That's what you're trying to avoid, but I guarantee he's jerking off at the thought of taking you. And you're writing more to reinforce his dirty girl image of you."
"Lately I've been worried that..."
"That what?"
"That I'm really Ashley."
"Erica, part of you is Ashley. They're fantasies but they're your fantasies."
"Yes, I know. But she's so willing to experiment and I'm on the shy side, not to mention married!"
"I'll bet," she said, "if given the right opportunity you'd take advantage of it. I wouldn't worry about your character, I'd be excited. Have fun with her. I'm looking forward to reading the next part."
"C'mon, Dee, tell me a fantasy of yours. I promise to keep it secret."
"Ahhhhhhh..."
"C'mon, all we talk about is me. What's a fantasy of yours?"
"Well, you've taken the oath so here goes. I've fantasized about being gangbanged."
"Wow, really?"
"Really."
"Wow."
"Okay, stop saying that. You mean you've never fantasized about that before?"
"How many guys?"
"A minimum of four."
"Wow."
"Stop saying that."
Back at the office we went to our separate domain. When I looked out about 20 minutes later Dee was surrounded by the same four mini skirt aficionados from earlier.
I texted her, "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"
She looked down at her phone and burst out laughing. 'Got the minimum!' she texted back.
***
I had sent more of my story to Jim per our disarmament arrangement but there was an hour left in the work day and I'd heard nothing. I chalked it up to my mini skirt mistake and the meeting I nearly missed but still, he would have read it the night before.
Then, as I anticipated his reaction he stuck his head in the door. "Could I see you in my office, Erica?"
Ushering me in I was spooked immediately by his locking the door behind us. He'd never done that before and I wondered why this time? Was he so crazed by my story he'd decided to consummate our fictional relationship?
"I read your story last night and couldn't get to sleep. I have to be honest about this, is that okay?"
"Yes."
He rolled his chair over to mine and took my hand.
"Okay, I masturbated and came to your story. I still couldn't sleep. I couldn't get the images out of my head I was so aroused. Still awake an hour later I read it again and jerked off again. I couldn't get over that those characters were based on us. What are we going to do, Erica?"
"What are WE going to do? I'm going to keep writing and I assume you're going to keep wanking because I made a mistake and now you can't look away."
"But that's us!"
"No, that's a sexually fictional version of us, cooked up in my head. Maybe you should stop reading them. I never meant for you to see them anyway. They're my fantasy!"
I don't know why I was so angry since it was my fault but he was expecting me to satisfy his obsession. His hand moved from my hand to my thigh.
"I'm going to stop sending them to you. That should fix the problem."
"No! We had an agreement!"
"No, you said what you wanted to do and I foolishly went along with it."
"Open your blouse. Let's do this."
"No!"
"You let Paul fuck you. You even let John fuck you. Unbutton your blouse."
"No! They're not real!"
"But I am and I want you. Strip!"
"And what? Are you going to rape me if I don't take my clothes off for you?"
His voice got very small, "No...of course not. I'm sorry...."
"Jim, we have to work together and you know how much I care for you but we have to do something. These stories have unleashed the beast in you...and me"
I couldn't say it but Ashley was fighting to get out and strip for him. While I was trying to get things under control I wanted him to fuck me, force me if necessary. That submissiveness was part of Ashley and part of me. But I knew if we did it our working relationship and my marriage would likely be over and I wasn't prepared for that.
"I'm not going to let you read them anymore. Maybe after awhile you can stop looking at Ashley and get back to seeing me."
I unlocked the door and left his office for the safety of mine. I was exhausted and just wanted to go home but I was also turned on by his desire for me. It would have been so easy to let him fuck me but I couldn't risk it. I opened my phone. I had to find solace in the word processor...
[I had allowed a third party, John, to have access to my body, something that I had never agreed to or expected. But I trusted Paul to make the right call and this sort of thing with John and his 'audition' in exchange for becoming the modeling face of the product was as old as the Hollywood casting couch.]
[But several things were wrong with my boyfriend's allowing me to be used that way. Firstly, Paul had arranged this encounter without asking me if I even wanted to model for the company. Secondly, he seemed all too happy serving me up to John. Thirdly, it was risky with my husband working in the building.]
[I suppose I should have stopped fucking Paul altogether. The problem was the thrill. I was addicted to the danger and the high of the sex. Now Paul had introduced another man to the game and I liked it. I wanted to be mad at Paul but instead found myself enjoying sex with two men for the first time.]
[What had I become? Whatever it was it must have lay dormant in me for years. My fling with Paul was releasing all of it.]
[In spite of the potential gossip I kept dressing sexier knowing that it would please Paul but would also trigger a confrontation with Alan. A couple of days after the three way Alan asked me if I was "going out to work like that?"]
["Of course, what's wrong with your wife looking attractive?"]
["The skirt is too short, the slit comes up too far and the top shows too much cleavage. Should I keep going? Black thigh highs? Ashley, it's a workplace not a brothel.]
["Oh you're just jealous because men like to look at me. You'd think showing off your pretty wife would be something you'd enjoy but instead you're a buzzkill."]
["I'm sure Paul likes it," he said with a note of anger.]