"You know what they say, Ron," Janice purred, her normal timid squeak downshifting to a husky growl as she pulled his stiff cock out of his trousers and began to stroke it. "It's the quiet ones you have to watch out for." Ronald had no idea how to respond, either to her words or her unexpected and incredibly forthright advances--there wasn't a place in his head for meek, mousy Janice with her winter-pale cheeks and her frizzy brown hair and her chunky glasses and her sensible sweaters suddenly coming on to him with such... such impressive sexual talents. It simply locked up his brain.
He managed to stammer out a feeble, sputtering murmur of, "Janet, I--I don't think this is a-appropriate office behavior," but she simply cut off his words with a long, slow, soulful kiss that plundered his mouth and left him to breathless to speak even when she pulled away. Ron couldn't even make his eyes refocus at first--they kept crossing and uncrossing, and the relentless motion of Janet's hand on his cock didn't help matters. Ron would have bet good money that Janet had never even seen a man's penis before, let alone touched one with her bare hands on purpose, and yet there she was tugging on his pud so expertly that he could barely even breathe.
He must have had some tell, though, some hidden sign that told Janet when he was getting close to orgasm, because she backed off her stimulation every time Ron felt that rising tension in his balls that told him he was about to cum. He had barely enough presence of mind to realize he'd gone from shock and dismay at his employee's behavior to disappointment and frustration that he wasn't going to be able to spurt jizz all over the front of his trousers, but just then Janet giggled and said, "Who the fuck cares?", and Ron's numb brain retreated even further into bewilderment at the completely foreign sound of a swear word coming from her lips.
"The thing you need to ask yourself, Ronnie," Janet growled, raking her fingers down the middle of his chest to tear open his dress shirt and send buttons flying all over his private office, "isn't whether this is 'appropriate' or 'professional' or whatever bullshit word you want to use to describe the boring way you expected me to behave when I walked in here. It's whether you have the willpower to stop me from doing whatever the fuck I want to... and you know what? I don't think you do." She shoved her hand into his clothing, finding his nipples and tweaking them into stiff brown buds.
Ronald shook his head in stunned disbelief, his eyes glassy with confusion as he stared at the wicked, contemptuous smile on the face of a woman he could barely get to say three words to him yesterday. He'd literally called this meeting to find out if there was any way of getting her to open up to her co-workers, and now.... "W-why?" he stammered, unable to summon up anything more complex in his befuddled brain. "Why are you, you, you....?" That was all he had. Anything more involved actually confronting what she was doing to his chest and his flushed, engorged cock and Ronald simply wasn't ready for that.
"That's another really boring question, Ronnie," Janet chuckled, giving Ronald's cock an especially hard tug that forced a gush of precum out of the tip to leak down his throbbing shaft. Every time he leaked another dribble, her hand slid up and down his stiff prick faster and with less friction, and that made her handjob feel better and better until even the slightest motion left him on the verge of climax. But still she didn't let him cum. "'Why' is for losers. The important question is, 'Can I stop her from scrambling my brains so bad I'll fucking beg to kiss her feet every morning when she comes into my office?', and I think we both know the answer to that."