Thanks to Robyn for editing and advice.
***
I'd known Taylor McFarland for many years, back when she was Taylor Denatalie. I met her in my freshman year at St. Charles when my older brother Bill brought her home to meet my parents. She was cute as a bunny, and the two were inseparable for about a year when she dumped him for Jack O'Leary.
Bill was heartbroken, but moved on. Taylor and Jack dated for a short time and all of a sudden Taylor left the area to head to her grandmother's house. Apparently Jack and she had done the midnight dance that resulted in her pregnancy.
Flash forward 20 years. I'd done alright, and was managing a bank loan office in Philadelphia. Married with a kid, two cars, house in the suburbs, things were going as well as could be expected. I still kept up with the Denatalie family, when I was at my parents, sometimes catching Taylor McFarland and her husband John and daughter Victoria.
Victoria had been born out of wedlock of course, the result of the dance with the O'Leary boy. She became part of the family of Taylor and John a couple years later. A sweetheart of a kid, just like her mother had been.
All this to lead up to the call I received from Taylor, who mentioned that my mom had said Mrs. Frizzle was retiring and I'd be needing a new secretary. Yes, a secretary. At my company, you had to be a level higher to receive the services of an administrative assistant, so my assistant still had the old fashioned secretary title.
Now I know one should not mix business with family, but I figured why not? Hire her as a temp, she how she worked out, and go from there.
Young Victoria showed up for work inquisitive and efficient. She took to the job quickly, especially with her keyboard and spreadsheet skills. It was all business, so don't get the wrong idea. Oh, I'd lust after her sometimes, banging my wife but thinking of Victoria, but it was truly on the up and up.
The idea was her to work for a few months, maybe into a permanent slot, and then after a year or two go to collage a little older, wiser and with things paid for.
Our office was on the second floor of the bank branch, a suite of three offices. Most of the time it was a 8:30 to 5:30 day, and Victoria would generally lock up most things and leave right after normal closing time while I would leave a half hour later. The only exception was Wednesday night when, because of a class I was taking to keep up a certification, I'd leave at 5:30 on the button and she'd close up.
All was perfect. Victoria was a good hire. She was efficient, delightful to work with and not bad on the eyes. The job was going well, and I knew I'd be up for a promotion in a year or so. Lovely thoughts, lovely time.
Which brings me to what happened on a cold Wednesday night in January. It was a normal day in all respects until a late day call from my boss kept me on the phone a few minutes late and I had to pack up and get to my class quickly. Saying "night" to my secretary I didn't even go to my car, I jogged down the street three blocks to the class. All was for naught, though, as about a dozen of us sat for 15 minutes waiting. Then we were told the professor was under the weather and class was cancelled.
I spoke with several classmates for a bit, comparing notes and preparing for our next quiz. We shared a soft drink before I strode back toward the bank building and my car. Once there, I realized I'd left my keys in the office. Hopefully the cleaners were there and I could get into my office Luckily, the employee access to the building was via key card, so getting into the back of the building wasn't a problem.
From that door one couldn't' get into the bank proper, only the stairway upstairs to the second floor. The cleaners van was outside, so someone could help me I was sure. Striding upstairs, I advanced easily through the second key card entrance, this one requiring a secret code. Again, no problem.
Looking down the hall, I noticed my office door was slightly ajar. No cleaners were in sight, so I surmised they were inside doing their thing. Not wanting to startle them, I slowly opened the door a couple more inches and snuck my head in for a view.
What a view it was, one I'd only imagined before. Sexy young Victoria was bent over my desk, skirt up, and a guy was behind rutting furiously while she rocked her head, eyes closed, enjoying the pounding from behind. I couldn't believe it. The young girl I'd hired as a favor was taking it firmly like a pro and I had to see more.
The guy had a girl grip on her hips and was working her ass in time with his thrusting. Taking no mercy, he was obviously well on his way to nirvana.
Reaching into my pocket, I turned on my phone camera and began recording the frolicking on my desk. The guy was riding her hard, and her hands dripped the far side of my desk to secure her space while he used her. He was grunting and she was moaning.
"Hurry, Connor, hurry. The cleaners will be here in minutes," groaned the girl. "Oh it feels good, but hurry...oh fuck me. Cum, you fucker. "
The guy needed nothing further to spur him on. He was already close to orgasm and banged my secretary quicker with a vigor that suggested the ending was imminent. I thought of breaking things up, but then thought, why?
All of a sudden "Connor" was announcing to the world he was making a deposit at the bank, into the hot, wet hole of my secretary. At that point I opened the door and walked into my office, seemingly startled. "What the hell is going on in here?" I roared.
It was a keystone comedy after that. Connor nearly fell over as he pulled out of my secretary and rose off the back of Victoria. Reaching for his pants, I saw his dick was sheathed in a slimy rubber. That was a good sign. Victoria tried to rise but smacked into Connor and had to stay over the desk for a few seconds.
"Get your ass out of this building, immediately, young man," I demanded of the boy. "Wait outside for your whore."
He needed no urging, running out of the office while buckling his trousers, scared to no end. He didn't even say goodbye to his girlfriend, he just bolted. I heard the hallway door close and turned my attention to the girl, who was reaching down to pull up her pink panties as demurely as one could in the situation.
"It's not what it seems, Mr. Roberts..." was her girlish, quiet, voice shaking reply.
"Oh really? Shut up, Victoria, I'm not stupid. Get your mother on the phone! Because we are going to have a talk about this outrageous behavior. Fucking on my desk. What the hell were you thinking?"
I had no intention of calling her mother, I just wanted to scare the girl. But the more I thought of it, I wanted to teach her a lesson. I couldn't believe the nerve she had in bringing her boyfriend into my office and getting fucked on my desk. I wondered how many times they'd done it. Wondered how many times I'd eaten breakfast on the desk the day after.
"Mr. Roberts please, please don't call my parents. Please, this will never happen again."
Glaring at the deshelved look appearance of the girl, I asked what she had been thinking. I demanded she tell me all.
