Anita made sure that she had everything for the job ahead. Right on time, at five-thirty, she would always arrive at the canal side offices of her boss Steven Meijers, and she would clean and vacuum all the rooms and make sure that she did not disturb any of the papers that might be left lying upon the desks. She had no interest in the detail, but she knew that the business made its money from importing a variety of goods and the pictures on the walls showed the exotic places that they came from.
As a young woman of Surinam origin, she had migrated to Holland and with her sister, Janice's, kids to also look after when she was at work, she had her hands full. But, working in the evenings suited her just fine.
She had worked steadily from room to room, the silence comforting and the drone of cars and mopeds in the street below hardly to be heard. She had thought she was alone, her reprogrammable security fob letting her into the building and then up to the floor where she now found herself.
"Oh, sorry, I didn't know you were still here," she gasped as she heard Steven end a call and turn in his high-backed leather office chair and look her way. She was overcome by a sudden cramp of longing on seeing that smile of his. It transformed his tanned, bearded, face and also formed little creases at the sides of his appraising eyes.
He ran the business with passion and determination, the staff she had once overheard saying that they were working for a good employer, trustworthy and friendly to all who worked there. His raging good looks, those of a rich man but whose bearded face and bright ties, his silken greying hair, also lent him a rebellious streak that she found so captivating. She had kept from cursing at this interruption of her routine because she knew it would be difficult not to talk to him and pay no attention to how quickly the time went by.
She stepped further into his office and without a word began to dust and polish. "I hope I'm not disturbing you. I thought everyone had gone home by now."
He was taken once more by her softly modulated voice and accent. Over the time she had been working for him, in cleaning the offices, he had gradually become infatuated with her, Anita's vivacity and grace of movement impossible to ignore.
"Don't worry, Anita, it doesn't matter. Just do what you have to in here and don't pay me any attention. I've still got far too many emails to get through, so I'll be here for a while yet."
"Oh, okay, if you're sure?"
"Yes I'm sure and, besides, we may get to talking. I don't get the chance as I do with others who work for me." He had sat back in his chair and looked from her to his laptop as he spoke.
Her nylon jacket, with its pouch pockets stuffed with polishing cloths, rustled as she went to dust the shelves of the display case, with some shelves lined with books. It faced the tall windows that looked out on the canal and roadway below, where she had fixed her bike to one of the railings. It was something everyone did, and her bike was an unremarkable, but functional, mode of getting about cheaply.
Steven was distracted by the sound of her uniform rustling, by the sight of the young woman with her ebony skin and her wild mane of frizzy, black, hair that framed a captivating slender face. Her smile, the gleam of her white teeth, was something he could never tire of seeing. It seemed to belong to a woman who was happy in what she did and who she did it for.
He shifted in his seat and felt the sudden gnaw of longing for the young woman and how her hips were shaped by that tunic. The fabric also shaped her breasts, and the short sleeves revealed slender arms on which gleamed bracelets of little, or no, worth. But they all lent her a captivating appearance. He wanted to take her on sight and suddenly felt his prick swell in his trousers. Behave and get back to work, he told himself, and on a last glance her way.
Only a few moments had passed when Steven heard a soft curse. Anita had been working in silence. "Is something wrong, Anita?"
He drew in his stomach muscles and his groin as he saw her turn, Anita's lovely round breasts shaped by her tunic.
"Everything's fine, but I can't reach the top shelf and it's been a few days since I've dusted up there. I can't reach that far, and I worry I may lose my balance and knock something over."
Steven gets up from behind his desk and strolls over to her. "I tell you what, I'll stand behind you and make sure you don't tumble backwards.
She looks his way with an embarrassed smile on her face. "Thanks, that's a good idea."
Steven cannot help but breathe in her delightful floral scent as she moves to stand behind her, Anita's body so very close and the sight of her shift rising over her hips as she reaches up to dust the shelf setting his imagination racing.
"Oh no, Steven!" she cries out, unaware of having used his name as her head swims and her free hand flails for the railing of the low steps that she's standing on.
Before she takes in what is happening she falls backwards and into his arms, Stephen holding her for an instant against him, careful not to hold her for too long or else she'd discover what state he's in, the sight of her making him so darned hard. She's enthralled with him and how he holds her makes Anita turn and glare at him.
She trembles out of shock and errant feelings for him. He's tried to keep it from her, but she's felt his erection press against her and whatever she may have imagined of him has now been made ragingly real.
"What do you think you're doing?" she demands and turns to face him. She looks bewildered now, more than angry.
Unashamed, and glad to finally have her know, he speaks out, his gaze upon her unwavering even as she stares at him, her hand trembling as she brushes back her hair.
"There, even now when I see you move I can't help but look and feel attracted to you. It's been that way for some time. I even fantasize about us being together. Even in that work uniform, you look so beautiful, and it doesn't hide what you have for a man, any man." He shifts away. "That's the way it is,"
He wanted to go back to his work and sit down but he stepped in front of him and barred his way.
"It's been that way for me too, although the cleaner shouldn't feel that way for her rich and handsome boss. But come, unless my boss has too much work to do?" She has coaxed him to sit down. "Perhaps I can help him with that but not get in the way?"
Her confidence beguiles him, and he sits down in his desk chair as she kneels before him, shuffles back, on her hands and knees, and disappears in the knee hole, tugging at his belt and the rim of his trousers as she does so. She feels him shift as her hands close over his trousers, holding fast to his straining erection that she has done so little to provoke.
"Oh, you lovely," he gasps as she works him, her caresses encouraging him to free the length of flesh she has done so much to arouse.
"Steven... oh Steven," she groans, "that you are so ready for me."
She bends to her task, slicks her moistened lips over him as she grips his balls, and offers to suck caresses to his length, his soft cry of pleasure and surrender to her all that she hears. He grips her head, loves the coarseness of it as it brushes his belly and thighs, her head twisting to change the angle of her claims.
"You darling woman, suck harder and for longer!" he demands, and she does so, the twitch of his legs and body not deterring her. "I'm going to come!"
