I had been flirting with the chief executive for the past 8 months.
What started out as small gestures, quick glances, cheeky smiles, had now grown to be open and sexually charged titillation.
This flirting had started innocently enough.
Simple compliments about my appearance had slowly grown more personal.
In the politically correct world of the modern office, these comments came as a welcome relief, and who can honestly say they don't like flattery.
But how had it got this far?
Fairly innocuous comments such as you smell nice; your hair looks great, have you lost weight? Had slowly, over time, changed to; wow your legs look amazing; I love your ass in that skirt, and are you trying to tease me with those tits.
And now alone in his office the comments had reached their inevitable conclusion;
"Why don't you come over here, sit on my desk and open those gorgeous legs for me?" he said.
I smiled back across the room to the source of this verbal gambit; George returned my gaze with a grin and a wicked glint in his eyes.
We were both working late having just completed a large and very profitable project. The rest of the team had gone to a local bar to celebrate, and we were left to tie up a few loose ends.
Subduing my nerves, I stood up and walked across the room to his desk, a large oak antique piece of furniture that he preferred to the modern flimsy alternatives.
I perched myself on the edge, crossing my legs deliberately, forcing my short skirt to ride up and reveal a small portion of the lace on my stockings, as my heart raced.
His eyes traced the line of my stocking tops.
"Come on don't be shy, open your legs for me, you know you want to?" he teased playfully.
I flushed, paused for a moment, then uncrossed them, opening them wide and straddling him in the process.
I felt exposed, he was now seated between them, the sheer lace of my knickers hiding nothing, and as he got his first glimpse of my freshly shaven pussy, I felt stirrings awaken.
"That's a good girl," his tone sounded dirty.
My legs closed slightly as my heels slid between his hips and the arms of his executive chair.
His hands reached out and he began slowly stroking my calves, slowly moving them upwards to the back of my knees.
"I love your legs, I've wanted to do this all year," he added.
We were now staring intensely into each other eyes, and he continued to play. My pussy moistened.
His hands higher now, above my knees and then under my skirt, slowly working their way up the inside of my thighs
"Mmm!" I groaned.
"Good girl, I guess your ok with this then?"
"Yes," I croaked my voice dry and husky.
Moving his hands skilfully down to the backs of my knees, he slowly stood up, lifting my legs in the process and tilting my body back across his desk.
As my back pressed against the hard wood, my legs parted, I felt his hands, rougher now and slightly shaking, reach back up, he paused slightly, before grasping the sides of my panties.
"Are you sure?" he asked.
My response was to lift my ass slightly, and with one slight tug my knickers were sliding down my stocking clad legs, over my strappy heels and eventually off.
I inched backwards across the desk for more support and as he spread my long legs, my pussy, now free from the confines of their material prison, opened in anticipation.
This was so wrong, my thoughts distracted me, I thought back to this morning, my deliberate clothing choices, subconsciously I now knew I had wanted this, but here, with my exposed slit, wet and glistening under florescent lights I had a moment of clarity, what am I doing, my husband, my kids!
