Shelia's Shoes

I was startled when Fred came into my office unannounced. “Fred, what is it?” I said, standing up, trying to mask my irritation.

“Sir, I don’t know quite how to say this,” he stammered, blushing, clearly flustered. This was entirely out of character; he was usually loud and blustery, full of bad jokes he cribbed from television.

“Well, spit it out, Fred,” I said. “I’ve got a lot of work to do.”

“Okay,” he said, staring at his feet. “Your assistant, she’s . . . I’m sorry.” He broke off.

“Shelia,” I said. “What about Shelia?”

“I don’t know. . . .” He began to sputter, and then finally he said flatly, “Well, sir, she’s sitting at her desk, fellating one of her shoes.” He sighed heavily.

“What do you mean, fellating?” I asked. It would be just like him to use the word wrong.

“I mean, she’s got one of her shoes off and she licking and sucking the heel,” Fred said hurriedly. “And she’s not being discreet about it either. It’s freaking us all out. I was talking on the phone to some of the big boys at the home office and I couldn’t hardly pay attention to what I was saying. They must think I’m a total idiot.”

They wouldn’t be the first, I thought, as I strode around my desk to go out on the floor and see just what the hell was happening. But when I stepped outside my office, I couldn’t believe what I saw. Sure enough, Shelia was sitting in her cubicle giving the heel of her shoe what by all appearances looked like a slow, seductive blow job. She was licking the leather on the three-inch heel, fingering its ankle strap, and occasionally pressing her nose against the sole, breathing deeply and moaning softly before resuming her sucking. Already the shoe glistened in the office’s fluorescent light. And that wasn’t all. Her tight-fitting shirt had worked out of her skirt, and one of her hands had wondered up underneath it. She was rubbing her breasts under her blouse, and it looked as though she were about to she might start masturbating freely at any moment. Clearly Shelia had suddenly lost her mind. Some of the other boys were looking at me from their cubicles with looks of horror on their faces, terrified by this eruption of apparently perverse sexuality right in their midst.

I knew I had to do something quickly. “Shelia,” I said, and she looked up lazily at me, her head lolling, the shoe dangling from her hand. She didn’t stop touching her breast; she just smiled lasciviously at me.

“Yeah?” she slurred. This wasn’t like her. Usually she kept up the professional etiquette to the utmost, referring to me unerringly as Mr. Hoyt.

“Come into my office, immediately,” I said. I stood and watched as she stood up and limped toward my office, delicately balancing herself on a tip-toe whenever she took a step with her unshod foot. She held the shoe aloft in one hand, and used her free hand to touch her hair and her face, which had become quite flushed.

I closed the door to my office and sat down behind my desk. Shelia didn’t. She stood in a natural contrapposto fashioned by her missing shoe, which emphasized the admittedly delicious curves of her hips and her ass. My assistant has a sweet ass: It’s true, and there’s no reason why I shouldn’t confess this. I don’t let it compromise my professionalism, but I do relish those occasions where her punctual and fastidious attention to her work warrants me giving her a congratulatory pat on her backside. She always smiles warmly at these friendly compliments, which makes me suspect she enjoys them even more than I do. I think she loves to know that she’s doing a great job.

But now she was sucking the heel of her shoe again and moaning, and she was caressing that sweet ass of hers, warming it with her palm as she licked the bottom of the show. I was so stunned, so absorbed by the slight pivoting of her hips, that it took me a few moments to say something. “Shelia, my God, what in the hell are you doing?”

She just nodded. “I love it. I could lick on it forever. It tastes just like pistachio.”

“You’re licking a shoe!” I exclaimed.

“Mmm-hmm,” she moaned, continuing.

“And you’re at work,” I said, “and this is just not very professional.” I found myself stiffening in my pants as I watched her, and this made me squirm a little bit. I didn’t like it when my underlings assumed that kind of power over me, the power to turn me on and make me hard.

“I know,” she said, pulling the shoe out of her mouth. “I just got this sudden craving, I don’t know why.” She sat on the edge of my desk and undid the ankle strap of her other shoe. She took it off and offered it to me. “You want some?” she asked.

I took the shoe away from her. Who knows what she would do next with it. I imagined her lifting up her skirt and inserting it inside her. Already she was stroking the nylon between her thighs languorously, lost in some strange daydream of passion. She closed her eyes and moaned ecstatically, so loud I was afraid some of the boys on the floor might hear.

“Shelia, get a hold of yourself,” I said, absently fondling her shoe. “This is a place of business.” Her skirt had come up and I could see she was wearing black stockings that reached only up to the tops of her thighs. She continued to rub herself between her legs, flashing delicious slivers of her creamy white flesh. “Shelia, please,” I said.

She sat down in the chair that faced my desk. Suddenly she pulled up her skirt to show me that she wasn’t wearing any panties. I was staring straight at her cunt, which was wet and inviting, as she opened her outer lips with her fingers. I kept staring, flabbergasted. She seemed to be getting wetter and wetter. She exposed her clit, which seemed to be throbbing, swelling. She began to stroke it softly. I looked up at her and saw her staring straight at me.

“No,” she said. Her skirt was off now. She put her feet up on my desk and spread her stockinged legs further. “Keep watching. I need you to keep watching. You know it keeps me wet. It feels so good, when you’re fucking me with your eyes. Fuck me with your eyes, mmmm.” She began to slobber a bit, and I could only guess that she was sucking the heel of her shoe again.

This was quickly becoming what I would call a situation. There were no directions for this sort of thing in the employee handbook. I have no idea what the home office would expect of me. What I wanted more than anything else was some clarity, and to take my rock-hard cock out of my pants and begin stroking away, since, of course, I was already dripping, I was so ready to come. And I wanted to know what had happened to my assistant to make her act in this unprecedented fashion.

“Shelia,” I said, unzipping my fly, staring at her fingers, gleaming, working expertly at her pussy, dexterously manipulating her clit. “What are you doing? What’s come over you?”

“I don’t know, but it feels incredible doesn’t it?” she said.

I suddenly had a hunch. My hard cock was now poking through my zipper hole, and I was stroking its underside. “What’s the last thing you remember about this afternoon?”

“Unngggh,” she groaned, fucking herself fervently. Her head was nodding up and down, her long brown hair was loose and wild, some strands were stuck to her full, ruby lips, others were splayed across her sweaty forehead. Her breasts were heaving in her tight-fitting shirt.

“Come on, Shelia,” I said. “What do you remember about this afternoon? Did something happen? Did you get hit on the head or something? Did you go somewhere strange for lunch today?”

“Fred kept bugging me,” she gasped out, between rhythmic grunts. As I feared, she was now fucking herself with her shoe. I had my cock resting in the other one. Its just that when I came, I wanted to be sure I didn’t get any on my suit. I was using the ankle strap to tickle my head. “Fred wanted me to go on smoke break” she said, still chugging, “But I’m trying to quit. But he kept bugging me. Oh God, Mr. Hoyt. Make me come.” She was working herself furiously, with a speed and determination I had never seen before, not even when she was typing my reports.

“Did you smoke?” I asked. I knew she was trying to quit; she told me she was even considering seeing a doctor one of her girlfriends had recommended. I was using the shoe to stroke myself and it felt marvelous. I watched Shelia’s long legs quiver on my desk and stroked. I never knew she would wear thigh-highs. Absolutely luscious.

“No,” she said. “I don’t smoke.” She ground her self lewdly against the bottom of the shoe. The heel was all the way inside her. “Fucking Christ,” she gasped, “Let me come please, suck my toes. God, suck my fucking toes!”

It seemed like I had no choice. I took her stockinged foot into my mouth and began to suck, pushing my tongue against the nylon, moistening it while trying to slip between her curled toes. She began to quake almost immediately with a powerful, cataclysmic orgasm. And bent over my desk, with her big toe in my mouth, I exploded too, coming copiously into the toe of her high-heeled shoe.

Still panting, Sheila pulled her foot away. She looked so beautiful, slumped in the chair, with her legs spread, her black stockings helping to emphasize the nakedness of her vulva, which was still wet and pink and engorged. Her breasts were still heaving in her tight blouse, and I could see how her neck and face were still flushed. I didn’t want to put my cock back into my pants all sloppy with come as it was, so I came out from behind my desk, and offered it to Shelia’s mouth. She looked at it strangely for a moment, and then, seeming to all at once become aware of where she was and what she had been doing, began obligingly sucking. It’s hard to pretend you have scruples when your half naked in your boss’s office and virtually coated in your own sex juices. With her usual fastidious care, she held her hair away from her face and licked my cock all over and sucked it dry.

When she was finished, she asked, “How did this happen, Mr. Hoyt? I just remember wanting a cigarette so badly.” She was pulled her skirt back on, and tucked her shirt into it. I was sorry I could no longer gape at her lovely thighs even as I continued to admire her taut, firm legs and her sumptuous ass, of course. I thought my cock might stiffen up once again. I could still feel her lips on it, the delicate flicks of her tongue on its delicate, tender underside. “I feel so strange,” she continued. “Where are my panties? Didn’t I even wear any today?’

I shrugged. I couldn’t help her there.

“My god, I keep forgetting the strangest things,” she said. “And I can’t remember half of what I’m doing half the time. Ever since I stopped smoking I’ve been totally scatterbrained. Just last night I was driving home from work and I must have forgot where I was going or something, I don’t know. I ended up parked in some part of town I’d never been before, and I was wearing these knee-high boots I didn’t even remember buying.” She put her shoes back on. She made a face as she put on the one full of my come, but she didn’t take it off again. “It was weird. Kind of like today, Mr. Hoyt. You understand, don’t you? I’m think I’m going crazy or something. I want to just start smoking again, but I can’t. When the cravings get strong, I don’t know what comes over me.”

I told her that she didn’t seem like herself and that I would understand if she wanted the rest of the afternoon off.

“I wonder if it has anything to do with the doctor that I’ve been going to with Margot,” she said. “He works through hypnosis. You don’t think he could have planted some kind of crazy thoughts in my mind while he had me under, do you?” she asked. “I mean, that’s impossible, right?”

I didn’t know, but I was determined to find out. I had Shelia tell me the name of the doctor, and I resolved to visit him that evening.