Bernie's voice tickled my ear, his loud breathing, his moans and filthy encouragement were having their usual effect. He always knew the right things to say. I was very conscious of my own moans and escalating breathing.
But then I became aware of a presence behind me; someone standing on the stairs, watching through the bannisters. I yanked my hand out of my panties and and my mobile went clattering across the polished wooden floorboards of the gallery. I hastily got up off of my knees and stood there motionless, except for my heart thumping away and my cunt on fire. The latest member of the Board of Trustees had climbed the last few stairs and was looking at me quizzically. My hand was frozen in mid-air, as if offering to shake the intruder's hand. I was just about to withdraw it when she grabbed hold of me by the wrist, pulling me to her. She examined my hot hand closely and I was horrified to see it glisten with my juices.
I tried to ignore the insistent buzzing of a concerned voice from the phone where it lay. I was in trouble and couldn't think of a way out of it. A sweet smile was probably not going to be sufficient this time. She glanced at my phone on the floor and, pulling me closer so that our bodies were only centimetres apart, held my hand to her face and inhaled deeply. As if this wasn't shocking enough, she took my thumb into her mouth, the thumb that only moments before had been buried deep in my cunt, and sucked on it hard. I felt her lips grip the base and the flat of her tongue lapping against the ball of my thumb. My knees felt weak and my body responded to this attention despite my panic.
She slowly released my thumb from her dark plum lipsticked lips and released my hand. I took a wobbly step backwards, heart and mind both racing. She stepped past me and picked up my phone.
'Tell me. A cheesy chat line or a real person?' I was affronted that she thought I would use a chat line and indignantly I told her of course it was a real person.
'Your husband?' she asked slyly, already guessing my answer.
'A friend,' I replied, trying not to look guilty, but I could feel my already flushed face turn a another shade closer to crimson. I watched her face, desperately trying to see where this was going.
'Take your clothes off. All of them,' She commanded. Expecting no argument. And getting none. Now I had a clue as to what was going to happen. Rather a large clue. I took off my clothes rather self consciously, putting them in a pile. I watched in horror as she spoke to Bernie on the phone in that same no nonsense voice. He was instructed not to go anywhere but to wait. She unfolded the dust sheet that I had been kneeling on previously. (Wooden floors look very nice but are murder on the knees).
'Lie down. On your back. And take this,' she gave me back my phone. 'We're going to give your "friend" something to really listen to.' She said it just like that. I could hear the inverted commas. Such a bitch. I was beginning to get over my fright and shock at being discovered and was now getting angry. Mainly because I had no choice. I didn't want to lose my job. She knelt on the dust sheet between my thighs, which she roughly pushed apart. She tied back her long chestnut hair and took her jumper off. As it went over her head I gasped. Whilst not really attracted to women I had, along with the rest of the staff, male or female I imagine, admired her magnificent cleavage. Her breasts were huge, contained in a very well fitting black lacy bra.