Geoff Larsen, (of course that isn't his real name), is the President of Marketing. His office is located four doors down the hall from my own and, being President, his office is a corner unit making it almost twice the size of my own with a fully equipped bath complete with a whirlpool, a corner shower and a laundry chute that heads straight to the basement of the facilities where the gym is located. It offers an incredible view of the skyline at sunset. Someday, I will have the office. For now, I have the man.
It started innocently enough as these things always tend to. It was during a meeting which included all of the company heads reporting to the CEO on quarterly activities. Quite normally, because I am an ambitious sort, I am eager to hear about every aspect of the company. Business intrigues me and, as I mentioned before, I will have Geoff's office at some point. However, on that particular day, I couldn't help my mind from wandering.
Though normally I am quite prim and exude an aura of no nonsense when I am in my office building, I felt myself twitching in my seat and figured I could loosen up a little to keep myself from going absolutely completely mad.
Keeping my face tuned in with an expression of pure interest in what was happening on the power point presentation, I used my right foot to push off the 4 inch heeled black silk peep toe shoe encasing my left foot. Adjusting myself slightly, I pulled my shoeless foot up underneath of me. My knee length steel grey skirt hiked up and I reached down with one hand, skimming it along my bare thigh and then further down to rub my plum polished toes.
Placing both hands back on the table, I picked up my pen and attempted to appear interested in the graphs now flashing across the screen. I wiggled my toes and reached back down, running my index finger back and forth along my instep.
As the next department head got up to take his turn to wield the power point remote, I turned my head to the side and noticed that Geoff was in a world of his own as well. In fact, he'd zoned in on my world and was, quite intently, staring downwards at my foot his eyes following back and forth with the movement of my finger. Now this could be fun, I mused.
I continued to watch him from the corner of my eye and changed from tracing a path along my arch to rubbing and massaging the underside of my foot. His expression remained intent and then I wiggled my toes. That did it. I continued to watch him in my peripheral vision and smiled to myself as I noticed him reach under the table to adjust what I assumed was now a hard on.
It was later in the afternoon, when all of the presentations were finished, that each VP and President of each department broke off to debrief their respective teams and to get a jump on finalizing the following quarter's plan. As the marketing team filed into the room, Geoff took his usual place at the head of the table and I took my place on the side of the table on his right.
As he began to speak, I kept my face completely expressionless and slipped off my shoes under the table. Now barefoot, I picked up my pen, began to write and lifted my toes of my right foot, slipping them underneath the hem of his slacks. He twitched, the movement barely noticeable.
My toes caressed the outside of his ankle and then began to inch upwards to his calf. There was only so far I could go under the hem and so I retracted my foot and began to trace the same trail on the outside of his slacks. I felt him tense, but continued my upwards journey until my foot was firmly in his lap. Underneath the table, I felt his legs part as he continued to brief the team. I took the invitation and began massaging his hard shaft with my toes, squeezing him through his slacks.
Remarkably, he held it together quite well as I continued to stroke him and delivered a perfunctory speech about next quarter goals before dismissing everyone.
I slipped on my shoes and rose from the table, quite ready to leave things as they were. I didn't expect him to throw me down on the board table after everyone left and have wild sex with me then and there. That's the stuff ridiculous letters to the editor of every sex magazine is made of and most of it is made up – pure fantasy. No, I held no delusions that our secret quasi foot job would move any further than it had so naturally I was a bit surprised when he spoke up.
"Actually, Danielle, if I could see you in my office for a bit. There are some notes I'd like to go over with you." He looked me dead in the eye, not a hint of anything other than pure business interest there. Oh, he was cool alright...
"Absolutely." I gave a polite smile and followed him down the hallway to his office door. He said nothing, not even bothering to make small talk. The situation changed as soon as we were in the confines of his office.
"What the fuck were you thinking?" He demanded once the door was closed and we had our privacy.
"I've no idea what you're talking about, Sir." I said, straight faced.
"You know what I'm talking about. That little game you played under the table wasn't exactly conducive to..."
"Game I played under the table?" I asked, one eyebrow raised in mock astonishment. "Are you sure it wasn't your imagination?" I implored, taking a seat in one of the comfy plump leather chairs that were arranged in a circle around a glass coffee table. I kicked off my shoes and crossed my legs, wiggling my toes. "Because from where I sat in the meeting for the department heads, it looked to me as though you were imagining plenty while gawking at my feet and legs."
Busted. His cheeks flushed a brilliant shade of crimson.
I stood up and sashayed over to him and tilted my head to gaze upwards. While I am not short at 5'8" in bare feet, Geoff is quite a lot taller, clocking in at just about 6'4". My hands moved to his shoulders and then one travelled to his still red cheek, caressing it softly.
"Why, Mister President...I do believe there's some sexual tension in this room." I purred. "It's something that really should be resolved. Maybe...Maybe this is what you want?" I turned away from him, backing my tight round ass firmly between his legs where an instant hardening had me smiling slyly.
"Or maybe this?" I bent forward slowly, my hands riding up the backs of my thighs and pulling my skirt upwards over my ass exposing a teal colored G-string nestled between two creamy cheeks.
I turned to face him. The expression he wore was one of total and complete disbelief and yet it was combined with a look of lust unlike any I'd ever seen before. I wondered if I might not have opened a bit of a Pandora's box. Normally, I am in control in these situations and I wondered if Mister Larsen wasn't going to turn out to be a bit of an animal, (in a good way).
"No? Still not quite what you want?" My fingers trailed down and I cupped him in my hand. If it was possible at all, he hardened even more and I raised myself to the tips of my toes in an attempt to meet him face to face. My hand still on his rock hard cock, the tips of our noses touched. "Aren't you going to tell me?" I murmured. "Or should I just take what I want and be done with you?"
That was the magic button – not mine, but his. It was those last few words that set him off into a sexual frenzy and he grabbed me tightly, pulling me against him. He hoisted me, pulling me up so that my legs encircled his waist and backed me up so that my back was against the wall. He pushed against me, the hardness of his cock pressing between my legs. The sensation had me wild.
"Is this what YOU want?" He demanded. "You push me and push me and toy with me and tease me with those fucking feet of yours. You're always wearing these damned shoes that drive me wild and these skirts that should be outlawed in an office. I've watched you prance around here for the last two years, ever since I came to work for this company. I'm tired of watching." He made a low growling sound. "You'd better not be fucking bluffing, because I'm taking what I want and I'm taking it now."
I yelped as he dumped me into one of the chairs. My initial reaction was outrage. Who was he to tell me what he was going to do? I'm the one who had what he wanted. I'm the one whose feet and legs he'd been lusting after. I held the power to either give it to him or not. I wasn't used to men behaving like this. I was used to men begging me to give in to their fetish of worshipping my feet, my legs and then the rest of my body. Here was a man who wasn't going to beg. Apparently I'd pushed him to the edge and he wasn't going to take it anymore.
He knelt in front of me, a sign of submission, and for a moment I thought that perhaps he'd seen and realized the error he'd made in assuming that he was in control. Before I knew it, his hands were at my blouse working the buttons. I slapped his hand away, frowning.
