The worst thing about the recession is the fact that there are absolutely no jobs out there. I'm a qualified Graphic Designer, I slaved away at university for three years and yet here I am temping for an insurance firm doing administrative duties whilst slowly losing the will to live. Could it possibly get much worse? Yes. My boss, after just two days of working there seems to have taken an instant disliking to me and has inundated me with an impossible workload.
I study her as she walks through the open plan office to the photocopier. A tight black pencil skirt and a matching suit, perfectly tailored to her curves. She bends over to reload the paper tray and I find myself rather intensely staring at her rear, for a woman of 45 it is incredibly pert. She turns around and glares at me and I quickly turn away pretending to type frantically. As she walks past me I get a waft of her perfume, a strangely masculine, cologne like scent which makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Could it be that I'm actually attracted to this evil control freak? She chucks a huge pile of invoices on my desk and sternly says "By the end of the day report to the office. We need to discuss your performance here, make sure sure you've finished this first". Her face contorts into a mean smirk and she walks back to her desk.
Filing the invoices takes me ages, a near impossible task. I see my colleagues slowly one by one pack up for the day and pass me with a sympathetic look in their eyes. Finally we are alone. With my head hung low I heavily drop the the neatly ordered invoices on her desk. Without even looking up and with one sweep of the arm she knocks the heavy pile of papers on the floor along with the rest of the contents of her desk. I look down on the floor and a smashed photo of her husband looks up at me. Five hours of insane concentration down the drain, my face flushes with rage and I scream "What the fuck do you want from me?!" Much to my shame tears start to form in my eyes.
She reclines in her chair and smiles "I want to you bend over and pick them up like a good little girl". She circles the wedding band on her left hand and ushers me to the pile of scattered papers.
The angry red head in me wants to slap her in the face but at the same time I realise how incredibly turned on I am. My submissive side takes over and I get on my knees and begin to pick up the papers. I hear her rise and walk towards me. I stay on my knees amongst the scattered mess and I gaze up at her, she stands in an authoritative pose with her legs slightly parted looking at me expectantly. Without permission I slowly slide my hand up her calf waiting for her approval. Momentarily I see her face soften and her feel her leg tremble, I take it as a green light and raise her skirt. I run my hand up to her thigh and pause, she smiles and I go a little further until I reach her pussy. I am pleasantly surprised to see that not only is she without knickers, she is also extremely wet. Shocked by my forwardness I quickly retract my hand, she shakes her head and sits on the edge of her desk, beckoning me over with her finely manicured finger. Looking up at her I slowly raise her skirt until she is completely exposed. I am in awe of her pussy, exquisitely presented with a neatly groomed landing strip and soaking wet. I run my hands up and down her legs as she opens her them wider.
I resist temptation and lean forwards her to unclick the black, lace suspenders she's wearing. My face is now so close that I can smell her. I gently remove her court shoes and slide her stockings off, by far the best present I have ever unwrapped. Like a greedy child at Christmas I don't stop there, I rip open her suit jacket and then her blouse exposing her small but pert breasts, buttons popping everywhere. I lean over to touch them but she smacks my hand and directs me back to my knees and raises her legs slightly.