Nineteen-year-old Marianne felt bored. She'd just gotten back from lunch at a little French restaurant that had recently opened up down the street, and it seemed to the young woman as though she'd been at work for days, instead of just hours. She idly kicked off her 3" black heels and leaned on her desk with one arm, the index finger of her other hand absentmindedly running back and forth along the neckline hem of her shirt, tracing a line up her shoulder, then down, dipping into her bodice and moving across the tops of her young, firm breasts. After a few minutes she was just running the finger across her breasts, feeling the soft flesh cool against her fingertip, swinging her feet back and forth, and letting her mind wander.
"Ahem," her boss cleared her throat. "Marianne."
Marianne jumped, quickly putting her hand in her lap and sitting up straight, her face flushing a deep red. "Sorry!" She squeaked.
"Are you busy?" Her boss asked frostily, cool eyes sweeping over her secretary's chest and noticing a certain...perkiness.
The girl shook her head no, searching hastily, and unsuccessfully, for her shoes with her feet.
"Could you please bring the Caldwell files to my office?" Her eyes rose to the secretary's face.
"Right away, Ms. Raolins." She felt a brief swell of triumph as her right foot touched one of her shoes.
The slender brunette slipped the shoe on as her boss walked away, hips swaying slightly in a tight, fitted skirt. Although Marianne considered herself straight, and had not done anything with another girl since early high school (and only kissing anyway), she couldn't help feeling a tingling of awareness between her thighs whenever she saw Ms. Raolins sashaying confidently past in one of her short skirts that pulled beautifully around her tight ass, or from imagining what her pussy might taste like. Would she be sweet, like honey, or more like a ripe peach? It didn't help, either, that she'd caught her boss looking at her a couple times in a way that seemed as though she had the same thoughts about Marianne.
"Marianne! Caldwell files! Now!"
Her boss's shout startled her out of another bout of mind wandering.
"Coming, Ms. Raolins," She called back, snatching up the yellow folder filled with the files on the Caldwell estate and slipping her other shoe on hurriedly in order to run into the spacious office her boss occupied. She placed the files on the desk and turned to go.
"Marianne."
She turned around, eyes down, hands behind her back, twisting her fingers together, unaware of the entirely seductive picture she posed. "I'm so sorry, Ms. Raolins. I didn't mean to let my mind wander." She nibbled her lower lip worriedly.
The older woman stood, half smiling, her fingertips on the desk in front of her. "Why don't you take the rest of the day off, Marianne. There isn't that much that really needs to be done here, the day is so slow, so you can get some sun, and be back tomorrow, ready to focus, right?"
Marianne looked up, smiling now. "Thank you, Ms. Raolins."
She turned and left, stopping at her desk only long enough to grab her purse and clock out before heading to her car, the humid Texas air outside swelling over her like a wave as she left the building.
Once on the road, she wove her cherry-red BMW convertible impatiently through the mid-day traffic, hot air blowing through her long hair. If she hurried, she'd have a couple hours of tanning by the pool before anyone else got home, which meant she could ditch the swimsuit and get an all over tan. Her mom was out of town, her step-dad at the office for several more hours, and her step-brother, who was a junior in college, should be gone until dinnertime.
