MY boring office job was only supposed to be a way of earning some cash over the summer - the work was pretty mind-numbing stuff, just filing and data entry, and independent thought was definitely not part of the routine.
That meant plenty of time for day-dreaming about the talent on offer. I was the only young guy there, and the only one in a junior position, and there were some very tasty babes working in the same open-plan room as me.
The pick of them was undoubtedly a stunning dusky secretary called Shona, with thick black hair and a coffee-coloured complexion. She always dressed demurely but it was clear she had a stunning figure and I whiled away many a happy moment wondering what her generous lips would look like clamped around my cock.
But whenever I tried to strike up a conversation with her in the hope of it leading to an after-work assignation, she always found some excuse to steer my off in another direction and then get back to her work as quickly as she could.
The other girls working in the office were pleasant enough but there weren't many stunners among them. The boss, though, was something else - a real ice queen who went out of her way to let everyone know she was in charge and treated all the junior staff like dirt.
Her name was Helen but she preferred to be called Mrs Watkins, and she had a habit of looking down her nose at you as if you were the lowest form of human life.
That didn't mean that she wasn't fuckable, far from it - her facial features were sharp but sexy and accentuated by a classic short dyed blonde hairstyle that helped to emphasise her no-nonsense executive status, and beneath her crisp blouses and tailored suits she went in and out in all the right places. Even though she was probably in her late 30s she looked good to go, if only someone could crack that cold exterior.
I very rarely had anything to do with her - I was too lowly to be worth bothering with, I suppose - so I was puzzled to be called into her office late on afternoon for what was described as an interim appraisal session.
As the door closed behind me, I couldn't help reflect that the office was a step up in glass from the dull open-plan workspace I had just left behind. Mrs Watkins had a large desk and sat behind it in a high-backed leather executive chair. There were a couple of smaller chairs on the other side of the desk, and off to one side was a more relaxed seating area with a couple of small armchairs either side of a low table. Although the wall facing on to the main office area was entirely made of glass, privacy was made possible by floor to ceiling blinds, which were already drawn as she gestured to me to take one of the seats in front of the desk.
She began by giving me a po-faced rundown of how the company worked and how all staff had regular appraisals, and needed to get good ratings if they were going to stay on the strength. She didn't go so far as to spell it out in words, but she made it clear that I needed to get a good report from her if I wanted to carry on working there - and that she knew that I needed the money, and jobs elsewhere were hard to find at short notice.
The rest of our conversation seemed to go smoothly enough, but just as it seemed that the session was about to come to an end she seemed to drop her pen onto the floor beneath the desk.
"Oh, get that for me will you, James?" she asked, leaning back in her chair and pressing the fingers of her two hands together. "I don't want to crease this suit."
Thinking little about it, I dropped down to my knees and tried to see where the pen had fallen - but I wasn't looking for the pen for long. I could see straight away that the desk had no 'vanity panel' and my face was only a short distance away from her shapely, stockinged legs.
And not just her legs - the stockings came to an end at mid-thigh level, beyond which I could see creamy flesh and the smooth skin around her shaved and shining pussy.
From above I could hear her calm and commanding voice: "James, to ensure a good appraisal there is a practical test that I like to employ. I have to be sure that you are willing to follow the instructions of your superiors, and carry out tasks to their satisfaction." Her legs parted slightly and I could see the moist folds of her cunt. "You may begin..."
As a chore, it had the edge on an afternoon of filing, so I moved forward and went to work. Her pussy was hot but fresh, and I was soon lapping at her clit as her thighs pressed in against my ears, with my cock naturally responding and straining against my trunks as I breathed in the glorious aroma of her sex.
The strange thing was that I could tell she was getting off on it, through the twitches of her muscles and the juices that were flowing from her crack, but she never made a sound and I got the impression that from the waist up she wasn't moving at all. If anyone had stuck their head round the door she would have just appeared to be sitting at her desk, and maybe that was the idea.
After about 10 minutes, she firmly said: "You may stop now." As I stood I could see her considering the bulge in my trousers where my cock still ached for release, but she dismissed me with little more than a nod and I walked carefully back to my desk.
There wasn't long left until clocking-off time, so I resisted the temptation to slip away to the toilets to jerk off and relieve the tension between my legs, although I have to admit that when I got home I couldn't resist a fast and furious session, fantasising about what might have happened next if Mrs Watkins wasn't such a cold and controlling bitch.
The next day at work she acted as if nothing had happened, treating me as if I didn't exist, and life went on as normal for most of the day.
But in the last hour before qutting time, I couldn't help but notice that Shona was called into Mrs Watkins office. She was in there about half an hour, and when she left she looked flustered, confused, and immediately headed out of the office.
I had an inkling of what might have been going on, and quickly left my desk to catch her. She was feeding change into a soft drinks machine in the lobby, and grabbed the cold can as soon as it dropped down, popping it open and downing half of it in a couple of gulps.
"Hi, Shona," I said, trying to be upbeat. "You look a little upset. Didn't your appraisal go as well as you would have liked?"
She looked at me blankly, and looked away. "Hey, you can tell me about it," I said. "I had mine yesterday, and I have to admit it wasn't exactly to my taste either..."
She took another swig of her drink and then realised what I was saying. "You too?" she asked "That 24 carat bitch, who does she think she is? She knows I can't afford to lose this job and I have to do whatever she wants - but come on!"
"Don't sweat it," I said. "It's just a power trip for her, and I've certainly done tougher things to stay in a job."
