I always found Brianna pretty. She wasn't a classic 'stick figure' pretty, but I found her more "thick" than "large". Plus, I loved the way she dressed. She was always prim and proper for the office, with her professional look giving her an air of sophistication. She wore the full gamut of office attire for a law firm - pencil skirts and blouses, pant suits, fitted dresses - but what I liked most of all is when she wore stockings. Black, brown, white, nude - it didn't matter. There was something about the way her slightly larger legs looked, tightly wrapped in the nylon, shimmering and strong. However, she was part of our Associate pool, and I was a Partner, so while I would steal glances, I never let on my attraction to her.
She was a good Associate, too - very sharp and efficient with her work. We did corporate contract law, and I was glad she was on our side. She could quickly write up a contract or evaluate one for hidden traps or tricks from the counterparty.
Recently, one of my clients had a particularly difficult challenge, so I pulled her onto the assignment. The two of us were working non-stop to resolve this, hoping to prevent litigation. I must admit that I enjoyed the opportunity to be working so close to her and seeing her every day. It did not go unnoticed that she wore pantyhose every day since we started working together. I kept things professional, but it was hard given my attraction to her.
One day near the end, she wore shiny, black pantyhose with black heels, and a skirt suite, with a white blouse that seemed to accent her large breasts, which peaked out above the neckline. Her brown hair in a tight ponytail and glasses over her brown eyes completed the professional look. This was probably the most gorgeous I have seen her, and it took everything for me not to stare throughout the day.
As evening came, we grabbed delivery together, and chatting about life. Both of us were single. She was looking to be a career lawyer, hoping for promotion as quickly as possible. Outside of work, she went to the gym regularly and hiked on the weekends. (Not saying anything, I thought to myself that this must be why she has such strong thighs.)
About an hour after dinner, she called me over, saying she thought she found something in the contracts. I came out of my office and walked to her desk on the floor. While usually buzzing, it was empty at this hour. As she started to explain what she saw, she accidentally knocked her pen to the floor. I squatted down to pick it up for her. As I handed it up to her, she turned around in her chair, so that her pantyhose-covered foot and leather heel were right in my face. She then leaned over, giving me a look down her blouse at her ample breast, and took the pen, saying, "Thank you."
I froze for a second, trying to remember our roles and keep things professional. She must have noticed my pause, and added, "It looks pretty, doesn't it?"
"Huh?" I stammered.
"My foot. It looks pretty, doesn't it. Encased in the shiny, black nylon and in the soft, supple leather shoe."
"Um." I didn't know what to say. "Um, yes, it is nice. What kind of nylon is that?" I was trying to make conversation.
Ignoring my response, she continued, "You can kiss it if you want," as she bounced her foot slightly so that it tapped my face.
I was fully kneeling in front of her at this point with her luscious foot inches from my face. I desperately wanted to kiss it but knew that was wrong. "Um, Brianna?"
"Look, Max," she said, clearly saying my name as if to make a point, "I know you love my pantyhose. I have seen you staring at me since the day I joined. When we started this work together, I made sure to wear them every day - my nice ones, too - to give you the show you wanted. I know you enjoyed it, and I'm now giving you the opportunity to kiss my foot, taste my nylon, and show me how much of my pantyhose slave you are."
With that, my resistance broke down and I began to kiss. Slowly at first, and then more rapidly, focusing on the top of her foot.
