I think I stopped at the part where I'm about to take off my panties. Oh, that got your attention, did it? Well, if you recall I had just made it up to my boss's office. I want a few comfortable minutes and she has a leather couch in a sitting area by the window. And the panties? You know how I get. With everything I had seen and been a part of earlier they were rather...soaked.
So, how much detail do you want here? You know why I'm on this couch with my panties off and my skirt hiked up. Do you really need to hear all the...okay, okay. You can get rid of the hound-dog face. You look like a six-year old who was just told there won't be any presents for Christmas. I'll give it to you just how you like it: down and dirty.
Despite the fire raging between my legs, or perhaps because of it, I take my time. The party will last for a couple more hours so I can waste thirty minutes up here without even being missed. I lean back and settle into the leather. My eyes close and my hand reaches between my legs.
I let my fingers run through the curly brown triangle that you won't let me shave. I'm not sure why you like it so much but for me I find it helps with the anticipation. There is nothing arousing about toying with my pubes but still my stomach tenses and my mouth instinctively opens.
It would be over in a flash if I let it. But where would the fun be in that? For me or you? So I trace my finger lightly along the outside of my lips and let the tingle of excitement swim through my body. I have never considered masturbating at my place of work and so there are no office fantasies to pull from. It doesn't take much, though, to imagine being discovered in this compromising position, even if the possibility of that is extremely remote given that the party is downstairs and I am the only one here who has a key to the rooms.
I suck a finger into my mouth and then move it down to join the others. Spread with one hand, touch with the other. It's immediately obvious that licking my finger first was unnecessary as I am as wet as I can ever remember and my opening accepts my finger with ease.
The great thing about masturbating is the familiarity. There are no wrong moves. The timing and touch is exactly what you want and when you want it. Of course, the familiarity is the problem as well. It's hard to surprise yourself with an unexpected sensation. The experience, though enjoyable, lacks the excitement of another's touch. But I'll have to settle since this is all I have and I simply need to come.
One hand leaves my crotch to fumble with the buttons of my blouse. I tease my nipple against my thumb while letting a few slick fingers slip down to tempt my...oh, you know how I like it when you play down there. I poke gently into that tight opening and imagine that it's your finger sliding into my ass, your lips caressing my taut nipple.
Keeping the finger pressed against my butt, I lower my other hand to get serious about this session. My clit is screaming for attention and I drag pressure up through my lips until I hit that neglected ball of pleasure. The first touch is always so heavenly. My eyes close again and I'm just about to loose myself in delightful abandon when I think I hear something on the other side of the room.
The table lamp lights my space but throws shadows across the expansive office and I can make out little in the corners of the space. I strain to see into the dim recesses and am startled by a slight movement against the back wall.
"Hello..." I feel stilly talking to an empty room. "I can see you," I bluff, almost laughing at my ridiculous ploy.
"Don't stop on my account." The deep voice emerges from the darkness and slaps me like a hand to the face.
My hands fly to my mouth and I scream through my fingers. I can feel my heart beating in my throat and I'm momentarily frozen with fear. But as the man comes into view my fear dissipates as quickly as my irritation increases. Arthur Corbin, one of the junior associates, walks out of the shadows. It is not until his eyes dart from my uncovered boob to my spread legs that I remember what I was doing here. My legs slam shut and I pull my blouse together
"Oh my God!" I think I have reached the height of embarrassment earlier when I was exposed to all those women at the party. That suddenly seems like a trivial matter to be laughed at and forgotten. At least that incident was beyond my control.
I try to talk between gasps. I think I'm hyperventilating. "What are you...how did...oh my god, I can't believe...how long have you been standing there?" I want to slit my wrist with a letter opener but I'm still too afraid to move.
His laugh makes me feel even smaller, if that's possible. "Long enough. Or maybe I should say 'almost' long enough. A few more minutes and we both could have had a happy ending."
For a split second my eyes are drawn to the bulge in his khakis and realize that I have been unwittingly providing a show for his arousal. I'm beyond mortified. I consider leaping through the glass but I'm not sure that the three-story fall would be fatal.
"What the hell are you doing up here, anyway?" I'm just starting to regain some of my faculties and it dawns on me that although I am engaging in a lewd and improper act, I am in the office space where I am assigned. Art is a whole floor from his office.
"I was in doing a little work on an account. Hard to get anything done with all that racket down there." He tosses his head to signify the muffled music coming from the party below. "Then I heard something above me and thought I'd investigate. And I'm so glad I did. Damn Michelle, I didn't know you had it in you. You're always so proper around the office."
I take a deep breath to steady my response. "Art, I am obviously extremely embarrassed by this. I, of course, thought I was alone but that does not excuse my behavior. I would really appreciate it if we could just keep this between us. I really don't want to have to explain this to Ms. Hester."
It's a long, tense moment before he replies. Art runs a hand through his receding red hair and seems to contemplate my suggestion. It might be best if I stab him with the letter opener first, then turn the dull blade on myself. I realize that I'm not breathing and abruptly take a big bite of air.
"I think I would prefer keeping this between us, as well."
"Oh, thank God." The words spill out like a sigh. "Thank you. I'll just get my things together and lock up." Maybe no one will have to die tonight.
I'm trying to get out of the deep sofa without flashing him when I realize that he is not moving. I get an odd feeling when I glance back to his face. His smile has a slightly sinister quality to it.
"Art, I'm going to turn off the lamp so you may want to flip on the light in my office so we can see our way out."
He still stands his ground. "No, I don't think we're leaving yet."
Should I be worried? I have not had many dealings with Art Corbin but the office scuttlebutt is that he has aspirations that exceed his talent. You know I don't feed on the gossip but you can't help hearing things. A few of the secretaries have gone out with him and the word is that he's decent in bed but a bore at the dinner table.
But is he dangerous? He's about your height but pretty frail looking. He's always talking about the membership he has at some gym but I know he doesn't lift weights. Squash, maybe? I think I could take him in an arm wrestle.
"Art, I know this has been an impossibly awkward encounter." I try to take a little control of the situation. "Let's not make it worse by prolonging it."
There's that little gleam in his eye again. "Get comfortable, Michelle. You're going to finish what you started. And I'm going to watch."
My eyes felt wider that a hoot owl's. "Are you out of your mind? There is no way I'm going to continue anything. You only saw what you did by accident. I could never...I would...just no!" Heat radiates from my body like coal-burning stove and my face invents a shade of red previously unknown to the universe.
