Anna and Mike had been colleagues for some time. Mike was quite taken by Anna from the first moment her shook her hand when he joined the firm right out of college. Now she was perhaps age 43 or 45, he guessed she stood 5' 6", with wide hips and nice, medium sized breasts. Her blonde hair framed a round, almost cherubic face, her eyes were the deepest brown with long lashes and they narrowed to slits when she laughed. Mike liked to make her laugh. She appreciated his tall, easy-going manner, dark hair, quick smile, very good looking. And he made her laugh. She thought of him as immensely qualified, almost over-educated, but smart and easy to work with. So, when the deadline for the ad campaign was surprisingly moved to the following day, it made sense to declare an overnight brainstorming session. Just she and Mike in the small conference room until they had a campaign they could work with.
The client had been with their firm for many years. Anna had been on the team that convinced them to come on board. Their extensive line of cosmetics and fragrances had kept the company running even during the downturn of the recession.
That long-time partnership was part of the night's problem. How to sell a new perfume to an old audience in a new way?
Mike stood at the white board, his jacket and tie off and his sleeves rolled up. He fidgeted with the dry erase marker as he rattled off the goals.
"The usual perfume ad: beautiful, successful woman sees handsome young man,"
"Perhaps a bit too young for her," Anna added. "but drop-dead gorgeous."
"She wants him, but can't get his attention away from his motorcycle."
"Make it a scooter. It's Paris."
Mike wrote Paris/scooter on the white board. His shirt gapped where a button was open, revealing a bit of chest hair. He flipped the marker around his long fingers. Why had Anna never noticed how long his fingers were?
"And a dog. Named scooter."
"Why is the dog named Scooter?" Anna asked, knowing the dog's name would never be mentioned in the ad.
"Because it's Paris," Mike replied, matter-of-factly.
Anna laughed. Not a big laugh but, she realized, the first genuine laugh she had had all day.
"But when she puts on the perfume, he notices her."
"Poor Scooter."
"Poor Scooter. Abandoned for a pretty face that smells nice," Mike concluded by flipping the marker again. This time it flew from his fingers, bounced off the white board and skittered across the floor.
Mike threw out his hands, as if just completing a difficult magic trick. "Ta-da." he sang.
Anna laughed again, a big laugh this time that felt good to let have reign, if only for a few minutes. As Mike walked across the room to find the marker, Anna entertained another train of thought. "What if she's not trying to get his attention? What if she already has it?"
Anna looked up as Mike bent over to pick up the marker. She noticed his pants pull tight across his butt. Anna had never noticed Mike's butt before. And a very nice butt at that.
She noticed that her silk stockings were catching the sunset in tiny specular hits up her calves and thighs. She closed her legs, squeezing her clit between them.
She struggled to get back to her train of thought. "What if, when our scene opens, they are kissing, sexy woman, handsome man, lots of quick close-ups of hand on butts and lips on her neck, and his shirt over a chair, her skirt on the floor,"
"Her heels stepping out of it," Mike joined in, pacing in front of the large window overlooking the Manhattan skyline, casting long shadows by the setting sun. "Lots of serious foreplay shots."
"Not just foreplay," Anna paused to notice the light through the window casting a silhouette of Mike's solid shape through his thin, white shirt. She took a deep breath.
"Real sex. As much as we can get away with. Hand going into a shirt, long licks up the front of her neck,"
"Yeah. Top Gun style," Mike chimed in, "maybe his lips kissing between her breasts, her hand reaching into his fly, then his upper body, thrusting forward,"
"Her head thrown back, gasping, her hands on his bare shoulders pushing him down out of frame as her eyes close. Obviously, she is climaxing." Anna paused to take a deep breath. Her chest was heaving. She took a second to recall when she last got laid. She knew it wasn't as hot as the pitch they had just given.
She looked at Mike to see if had noticed how aroused she was. He was turned sideways again silhouetted against the window, the bulge at the front of his pants quite noticeable. A nice ass and a good bulge. Anna made a mental note for later when she was home alone with her vibrator.
He poured a glass of ice water from the pitcher on the table, holding the cold glass to his sweaty neck.
"Maybe we need something stronger," Anna suggested, picking up the phone and placing an order with the restaurant on the ground floor: a perk for corporate clients renting office space.
"Are they having an affair? A one-night stand? Or is this a regular thing? And when the music cools down, our handsome man is..."
"Asleep, of course. I would be," Mike chuckled "but she is not."
"Again, only in close-ups, we see her naked thighs swing off the bed, bare feet as she hooks her panties off the floor with her toes,"
"Sexy,"
Anna saw Mike try to adjust himself without being noticed.
"Her bare back as she clips her bra in front and pulls it around. Her butt as she tugs the panties over her cheeks, pulling rolled up stockings onto her toes,"
"Clipping a garter belt to the top of the stockings!" Mike was getting heated up again. "She fastens her skirt around her silk panties."
"Close-up of the perfume bottle in her hand."
"Boobs? Thigh? Ass?"
"Mike, your inner perv is showing. No, she sprays in the air in front of her as she walks through it, scooping her suit jacket off the chair next to his boxers, tosses it over her shoulder and walks out."
