I had a new job in a small company in our town. When I say new I suppose I should also say first job. I was finally gainfully employed and earning a salary. Not much of a salary, but it was a start. Basically I was the office girl and did whatever anyone told me to do. It wasn't a very large office, only half a dozen of us, including the manager, and everyone else considered themselves to be my superior. Very lowering to my self-esteem after lording it over the junior grades at school.
Being the lowly office girl I got tapped to hold down the fort while everyone else went to the twelve o'clock lunch break. For one hour I reigned supreme in the office. Too bad there was never anyone to reign over.
When I first started work my mother had stressed that I had to dress the part of an office worker. Neat white blouse and neat black skirt was the order of the day. That's what I wore and I found myself fitting right in with everyone else. However, there was one bright spot regarding clothing.
"Fridays are casual days," I was told. "You don't have to dress for an office. You can wear anything you like as long as you're sensible about it. We don't directly interact with the public so we can get away with casual clothing occasionally. Not like the sales staff and customer agents. They always have to dress to send a message about what a serious firm we are."
Now being a trusting soul I took that information on board and on the first Friday I rolled up in a colourful flirty skirt and a t-shirt. Also, knowing the propensity of some people to play practical jokes, I had my normal work clothes stashed in a bag and brought them with me. It turned out that I worried needlessly. Everyone was dressed casually and my outfit didn't stand out.
I continued wearing casual clothes on Fridays, the same as everyone else. For some reason I also continued to bring in my normal work clothes. It was a sort of 'just in case' thing. It made me feel a little happier so why not?
After I'd been there about a month there were rumours floating around that our manager was leaving. It was said that he'd found a better position in another state. Finally there was an announcement that yes, the manager would be departing, and that our current second in charge would be moving into his position.
When the next Friday rolled around I got a slight surprise. Everyone had shot through to lunch at twelve, leaving me to queen it over an empty office, when the manager stuck his head out of his office door and asked me to step inside. It had never occurred to me that the manager didn't necessarily go to lunch when the troops did. I wondered if he'd ever heard me singing during my solitary vigils when everyone else was at lunch. Oh my, an embarrassing thought. I headed over to his office to see what he wanted.
"Ah, Meredith," he said. "As you know I'm leaving this firm for pastures new, and there was something I wanted to do before I go. Tell me, do you realise how much you stand out from the others when it's casual Friday?"
I'm like, "Say, what? I'm wearing the same sort of things that everyone else does. What does he mean, stand out?" I mean, really, I was wearing a nice light green ruffled blouse with quite a modest cleavage showing and a nice dark red lace flared skirt. I looked good but they weren't the sort of clothes to make me stand out from the crowd.
"I'm not sure what you mean," I said defensively. "My clothes are just good casual clothes and quite similar to what the other girls wear."
"True enough," he said, "but they have much nicer contents."
It was another 'say what' moment. I could feel myself blushing slightly. Then I was blushing a whole lot more because the manager was undoing the buttons of my blouse.
"Stop that," I snapped with a gasp, slapping at his hands and trying to redo the buttons he'd already undone. Talk about a losing task. He could undo them faster than I could do them up. Not only that, he pulled the blouse loose from my skirt and undid all the buttons while I was still trying to fasten the first couple.
Would you believe that he slapped my hands away from my blouse? Not hard, more pushing them out the way, and then he was slipping the blouse off my shoulders, exposing my bra, a bra that was definitely not the sort of item to be flashed around the office. It was lacy and silky, more decorative than supportive. I mean, I was still a teenager even if I was nearly twenty, and my breasts were quite capable of standing firm without support.
I was trying to put my blouse back on properly and he was trying to slide it down my arms and he was winning.
"What are you trying to do?" I demanded. "You can't just go and take off my blouse."
"What I am DOING," he said, emphasizing the doing and ignoring the try, "is undressing you. Your figure has been tantalising me for a month now and I decided that seeing I'm leaving I may as well strip you and see if your figure is really as fine as I think. Now stop wriggling."
To ensure that I did as I was told he held my wrists together behind my back in one of his hands. Until then I'd never really considered what a large man he was, especially compared to a petite young lady such as myself.
He was also quite an experienced man, too. He flicked open the button and zip on my skirt and had it down in nothing flat. Despite my protests my panties followed my skirt and then he turned me around and undid my bra. Finally he let me go.
"You might as well let your things drop," he said, referring to the blouse and bra hovering around my wrists. "They're not exactly covering anything now."
Reluctantly I did so, standing there naked and furious and embarrassed all to hell. He stood in front of me, looking me up and down, and then twirled a finger to get me to turn around. I did a full three sixty turn, and then just stood there glaring at him.
"You have a really magnificent body," he said softly. "Well worth looking at."
He was continuing to look too, the lecherous heel. It turned out he wasn't content to look. He reached out with both hands and pressed a finger against each of my nipples, rolling them around slightly. Ye gods! You'd think they were on/off switches. As soon as he touched them I felt a flash of heat that went from my nipples all the way down to my groin, and my nipples stood up and practically waved to him.
I promptly backed up a step and he promptly closed the gap again. A couple more back steps and my bottom was pressing against his desk and I found myself leaning back against it. My hands automatically went behind me to brace myself and stop me falling flat on my back on the desk.
Looking down along the length of my body my face blazed hotly. I was totally exposed. He'd have been hard pressed to find a position to put me in to show more. He reached out and flicked my nipples again and again I felt that flash of heat. Then he reached down and slowly unzipped himself.
I was slowly shaking my head from side to side, while keeping my horrified eyes glued to his groin, saying, "Oh, no. Uh-uh. Not going to happen. Forget it. I don't do that sort of thing. You're not touching me with that."
He ignored everything I was saying, just hauling his cock out into the light so I could see it. Looking at it all I could think of was, it figures. Big men have big cocks. It looked truly formidable.
He took a step closer and his cock was pressing against my tummy, while his hands came up and closed over my breasts. He rubbed them lightly, enjoying the feel of them, while at the same time making lazy movements with hips so his erection rubbed back and forth across my tummy, emphasizing its size and hardness.
"You can't do this," I protested. "I told you, I don't do this sort of thing. Just back off, damn you."
"You're a virgin?" he asked, reading that I was in my blushing face. "Don't let it worry you. I'll take it slowly. You'll soon get the hang of it."
"I don't want to get the hang of it," I said with asperity, which he blandly ignored.
He reached down and dragged his cock down along my stomach, across my mons, and slipped it into the gap between my legs. When he let it go it did it's best to stand up again but my pussy was in the way. It wound up pressed hard against my slit, pressing between my lips and encouraging them to part. Then he started a sliding motion, dragging his cock back and forth against my pudenda, signalling his intentions.
Frustratingly I could feel my vagina picking up those signals. I seemed to be going soft and gooey inside, heat rising through me and moisture gathering. He kept up that slow see-saw, pushing along my slit and then dragging back, building up a slow agitation within me.
Now being virgin means you have no practical physical experience of sex. It doesn't mean you're completely ignorant of how the different parts fit together. Accordingly, I had decided that my manager wasn't actually going to have sex with me, but was just getting his rocks off in an intensely embarrassing manner. Then everything changed.
