Wednesday 1:48 PM
His voice came quietly over Karen's intercom. "Karen, would you please tell Connie I'd like to see her in my office."
"Sure, Mr. Walker. You want her right now?"
"Yes." The intercom clicked off.
Connie's pager buzzed moments later. She and her buddy Pat were on their way out. Even though it was Wednesday, a couple of glasses of wine at Freddy's, shoot the shit with some of the guys, then, "Bye, see you tomorrow" was not uncommon. It was a great place to work.
Pat and Connie would ride separately. Neither was planning to come back. Connie was about to open her car door when her pager buzzed. Pat was some fifteen feet away about to get in her own car. She paused.
"Fuck," Connie muttered looking at her pager. Her comment had been louder than she intended.
"Literally?"
"Yup." There was no mirth in her voice. "Get me a mojito. I'll need something to rinse my mouth."
Pat nodded as Connie peeled off heading for Mr. Walker's office.
Inside the two story building she took the stairs. As she entered the executive office suite, Karen caught her eye. "Sorry," she muttered.
Connie went up to the large walnut desk behind which Karen sat and leaned over until she was inches from Karen's face. Karen did not move. "Why me? Why not you or somebody else? Jeez, you've got nice tits, a great ass, why me? It's Wednesday. I was about to get in my car."
"Sorry," Karen repeated. She ducked her head slightly opening a drawer from which she pulled a bottle of vodka. "Some now and some when you leave," she asked.
Connie stared in contemplation then reached for the bottle. Karen removed the top and handed it to her. She took a healthy slug, shook her head violently, and swallowed. "Thanks."
"Don't mention it."
2:00 PM
Connie stepped up to the inner office door and knocked softly. Without waiting for a response she turned the knob and respectfully opened the door. Karen heard her saying as the door closed, "You wanted to see me, Mr. Walker."
Inside the room Neal Walker nodded silently. He was sitting in an easy chair in the corner of his vast office. The lighting was low as it always was. The closed drapes added to the muted atmosphere. Connie stood near the couch. She had made only brief eye contact with Mr. Walker. Now she looked at his shoes as, without instruction she kicked off her sandals, opened the button on her jeans, and pulled down the zipper. The jeans caught on her hips, then again on her calves. Once at her ankles she carefully stepped from them setting them neatly on a nearby table. The shoes she placed together under the table.
Her black bikini panties contrasted well with her fair skin. Before standing Connie took hold of her panties at the waist pulling them off as well.
She kept herself shaved. It was an unwritten office rule: 'Mr. Walker does not like pubic hair. Don't have any.'
She braced herself against his desk which he'd apparently cleared of any work-related material. Leaning over with her head almost on the desk, she shuffled her feet back and spread her legs. "Here," she asked.