Emma wasn't usually given over to exhibitionism, but lately had enjoyed the attention from her colleagues. She relished the intelligent conversation, and while the guys were admiring of her and would obviously flirt, she got a kick out of their habit of descending into masculine base competition for her attention. She'd taken to wearing her favoured jeans tighter and tighter and wasn't adverse to 'accidentally' leaving a button undone on her white shirts. Today, she was wearing something a little different - a new black rubber skirt, a friend had assured her was acceptable for work. As she walked she could feel it riding up her oiled legs; it was so tight she was forced to walk with an exaggerated, confident strut, and, unknown to her, as she walked her stocking tops were just, very slightly, visible with each step. Her round ass was delicious, encased in shiny black leather, the material tight at her waist, hugging her ass down to the tops of her legs, where it dipped in to display the curve in its most perfect form. Her shirt was crisp and white, concealing a pink bra, the cups consisting of the most delicate lace, through which her hard nipples could just be discerned through the shirt. A gold necklace with little pendant hung down between her breasts, tantalising, hinting at the what tongue might taste there.
Today she was feeling really good - she had just completed a very difficult and complex project, received high commendation, and the guys in the office seemed to be more engaged with her than usual. Grinning cheekily, she made her way to Senan, a guy she had on her team, and tapped him lightly on the head with a sheaf of papers. 'Well, my eager subordinate, how will we celebrate?' she joked, perching on the edge of his desk. He raised an eyebrow and flashed her a knowing smile, then looked unapologetic ally at her thighs, where the darker mesh of her stocking tops were now clearly visible below the six inches of skirt that barely covered her. Following his eyes, she laughed, and went to hop off the desk to her cover herself. He stopped her, laying a strong hand on her leg, the very tip of the middle finger of his right hand slipping beneath her skirt to the bare skin beneath. The touch was electric, and there followed a long pause in which the chance to plead innocent mistake slipped by.