The Secretary

I walked up to her and took one of her nipples in my mouth. She drew a sharp breath as I made contact, but soon started to breathe heavily. I grabbed her other breast, and alternated between sucking on one nipple, massaging the other. Then I led her to the table, and ever so gently lifted her up on it. I helped her to lean back, and then started to run my hands along her legs ... the taunt runner's calves, her firm thighs. She moaned a little as my fingers made contact with her mound, and I played a little softly in her wet crevice before I found the clit. I slid two fingers inside her and listened to her moan.

Lustfully I leaned in and started to lick her. Her clit was moist and swollen and she immediately responded to the pressure of my tongue by little cries of pleasure. I could feel her trembling, and I knew she was not far from an orgasm. I started to suck on her clit as my tongue continued to massage it, and as I put two fingers in her pussy I could feel the first tremors of her orgasm. I increased the pressure on her clit, and increased the pace of my tongue and fingers, and Stacy let out a long cry that sounded like an animal caught somewhere between pleasure and agony.

I let her recover for a minute before helping her back on her feet. She looked a little wobbly, and I let her recover for another few moments before I helped her kneel in front of me. She had an expectant look on her face as she brought her hands to my pants, trying to find the buckle. She quickly undid the belt and as her hands traveled over the front of my pants, she could feel I was already crazy hard.

I'm not as big as Jason, but I'm definitely well endowed, and I assumed that Stacy would not be able to tell the difference in all the excitement. Chances are she had never encountered someone quite as big as Jason, and her frame of reference would not include such an experience. As she pulled my cock out of my pants she let her hand glide all the way along the shaft, feeling its size. I could hear her taking a deep breath. Good. The deception might be working.

Stacy stroked me for a while, using both her hands. She then took me in her mouth, a little at the time, fitting more and more with each little bob of the head. She worked me with one hand, while the other was playing with my balls. I grabbed her hair in the back, and firmly guided the movements of her head. She let me control her movements and I soon got into a good rhythm, fucking her mouth as she was stroking me. I looked down on her large breast swinging freely below me, and I knew I was getting close.

I put both hands on Stacy's head and increased my pace a little. She struggled for a while, but soon adjusted, and I let out a little groan just to let her know what was coming next. I felt the familiar tension building up, and I fought against the release for the longest time. But with another grunt I exploded in her mouth, and I could feel her fighting to keep up with the waves of cum I sent down her throat.

Stacy continued to suck and lick my cock while I regained my composure. I suddenly withdrew, pulled up my pants and walked out of the room. I walked by the table with the desk light and dropped of five brand new twenty dollar bills. I then headed straight for the elevators, and grabbed my stuff that I left in the cubicle right outside. I took the fire escape to the floor below, before jumping into an elevator. I was fairly certain Stacy would follow the instructions I had left her in the copy room, but didn't want to take the chance of her trying to cop a peek at her secret nighttime entertainer.

Part VI: No Time For Regrets

The following Monday, Stacy walked into my office dressed far more modestly than I've ever seen her before. Ankle-long skirt, a blouse buttoned all the way to the neck underneath a thin sweater. If I were a betting man, I would say she went to church the day before, and perhaps even confessed if that was part of her sacraments.

"Good morning. Did you have a good weekend?"

"Not really. Listen, about last Friday..." I tried to look really confused.

"What do you mean?"

"Stop it. I know you left those notes for me. But then I don't know who ... you know, if you ... or who it was." She looked at me with pleading eyes, but I was not about to give up on the secret. At least not yet. Stacy still had more to give.

"And what's the problem?"

"Well, what I did. With someone I don't know who it was. Who then paid me."

"But wasn't that part of the pleasure? The not knowing?"

"It was right then. Not so much the day after." I looked at her carefully. I had a feeling a little bit of the melodrama was an act, an attempt of guilt-tripping me into telling her what she wanted to know.

"What changed?"

"I don't know. Just the way I felt about it, I suppose."

"So you felt less pleasure Saturday? Or more guilt?"

"Well guilt. But that's the wrong word. It's hard to explain ... it's not guilt, it just feels like something I shouldn't be doing."

"Says who? Only you can decide which pleasures to indulge in. No one decides that for you. Would you had felt any differently if it was a one night stand with a stranger in a bar."

"Of course."

"What's the difference? I mean really what's the difference? Just you seeing the person first. Talking to him. Having a drink or two."

"Well ... yes."

"Would you do it again?" I looked her straight in the eye. "Just you and a guy you haven't seen, all alone, making each other feel good. Because Stacy, I know you felt good."

"So it was you?"

"I didn't say that." I waited for a few moments. "But I was there." Her eyes grew wide. She had not considered the possibility that in addition to having sex with Jason or another man she didn't know, I had been there watching the whole thing. She remained quiet, but now I caught a glimpse of excitement and arousal in her eyes.

"You like the thought of that, don't you?" I asked.

"Yes" she finally said quietly, looking down.

"I know you like to be watched. Would you do it again?" Another pause.

"Yes" she said.

"Good, I'll see what I can do." I purposefully used the same words as the week before. She recognized this and gave me a little smile.

"Now get out of that sweater. You look like my granny." She tried to look angry, but soon started to laugh. She stood up and turned around, and then very slowly and seductively pulled the sweater over her head. She turned back to me and threw it in my lap, and then gave me a little suggestive dance while unbuttoning the top two buttons of her blouse. Very seductively she leaned forward to give me a nice view, pulled the sweater out of my lap, and then turned around and walked out of my office.

Our relationship went back to normal over the next few days, and we resumed our regular inter-office interactions. I noticed, though, that Stacy often incorporated in her mail run routine a little striptease element, be that unbuttoning her blouse, taking of a sweater or light jacket, or pretending to be removing her skirt. I wanted to make that the focus of our next little adventure, and I knew exactly what it would be. I just had to wait until the weekend for the right venue to be available.

A good friend of mine was leaving town for a lengthy business/vacation trip overseas, and had asked me to house-sit his apartment while he was gone. As the apartment was only a few blocks from the office, I readily agreed. I had been planning to stop by a few times each week to make sure the plants were still alive and no pipe had developed a leak ... and now the spacious apartment would serve as the stage for Stacy's next performance.

On Friday afternoon Stacy stopped by for the final mail run of the week. I knew she always tried to keep something special in store for me, and I wasn't disappointed. After walking in, she carefully kicked the door until it was almost completely shut. Then she slowly and sensually walked over to the outbox to pick up the few items there. Without being prompted she bent down and opened the bottom drawer in my file cabinet. She then reached back and slowly started to hike up her skirt. It wasn't a long skirt to begin with, and I almost immediately saw the top of her stockings. A little further, and I could tell she wasn't wearing any panties.

She held her pose for a few seconds while wiggling her little ass back and forth. She then let the skirt down, closed the file cabinet and came over to me.

"Will that be all for the day, sir?"

"One moment." I took a block of post-it notes on my desk, and started to write. It was the exact same notes I used to communicate with her a week ago, and the exact same pen.

"Meet me at the Grant Grill tomorrow 8 pm. Dress as if you want every man in the room to look only at you."

I handed her the note and looked at her reading it. She just smiled, nodded curtly and left. I departed the office shortly after. I was meeting my friend to get the keys, and tomorrow I had an apartment to rearrange.

Part VI: A Public Performance

Saturday afternoon I went to my friend's apartment and rearranged the furniture in his living room. I made sure to take a Polaroid of what the room looked like before I started, as on Sunday morning I would have to come back and put everything back in its proper place. But when I left, all the furniture was moved towards the back of the room, and all the lamps placed around a little area of the floor in the front. I had also brought a record, and I made sure I knew how to operate the turntable and amplifier.

I went home to get a shower and to dress in my best Don Johnson attire, and a little before 8 o'clock I arrived at the bar at the Grant Grill. The bar was a stuffy place in the first floor of the venerable old US Grant Hotel. It was full of well-heeled older people; power suits and long dresses, and not really a meeting spot for young people. But I had not planned for us to stay there for very long anyway.

Stacy arrived five minutes late, a little flustered and out of breath. She apologized profusely, and I readily accepted. How could I not - she looked fantastic in a bright red cocktail dress that was just a tad too short, black stockings and five inch heels. Her hair was arranged in a fantastic voluminous creation, and her lipstick and earrings were both standing out with their bright neon colors. She instantly became the focus of attention of several of the old geezers in the room, and she reveled in their admiring stares.

Her drink of choice was a Cosmo, and I ordered it along with my second double scotch. We were standing close in the crowded bar, making small talk about the office and the recent gossip involving Linus Carson. The same Mr. Carson in whose suit coat Stacy had found a condom was apparently getting a divorce, and had already moved in with the object of his new affection: a former secretary of the company, who was 32 or 33 years his junior.

"No wonder he has looked so exhausted these past few weeks. I'm sure he's getting the work-out of his life." Conversations like this always made Stacy blush, even though she could put on the raunchiest performances for me in the office. Or in the copy room for that matter.

"Ha. He actually looks happy. More energized. And he's much nicer than he used to be."

"Watch out, he's trying to lure you in." I leaned in conspiratorially, and lowered my voice. "I heard that the randy old goat is asking the young ladies of the office for a threesome. Apparently the new Mrs. Carson is into that sort of stuff."

"Stop it. No way!"

"No seriously. Do you remember Robin, the receptionist, or was she before your time?"

"Before my time, I think."

"So Robin and the new Mrs. Carson were really good friends; rumor had it they were more than just good friends. And then Robin moved out of state a little while ago, and not suddenly these rumors are starting. It's not a coincidence."

"Really? You think..?"

"Yes. He supposedly asked Jessica, but she was too expensive." I had a hard time keeping a straight face as I delivered the last line, and was awarded with a punch on the arm.

"You bastard. I actually believed it for a moment."

"Me too. Pretty hot, right?" She didn't answer, and just looked at me quizzically. She didn't know what I had in store for her this evening, and was probably wondered if that statement foreshadowed our adventures. But I remained coy and ordered her another Cosmo.

Stacy did not appear to be a very experienced drinker, and when she was halfway through her third Cosmo she was giggling and flirting with two old geezers standing next to her. I relaxed and admired her body through the tight red dress, thinking about how she looked in the copy room last week, and about how she would look in the living room of my friend's apartment. I was fairly sure she was going to go through with it; she was attracted by the compulsive aspect, and seduced by the public aspect. She was experiencing a thrill that she had never felt before, and for every new step of our adventure she came further and further out of her shell.

I signaled the bartender for the tab, and quickly settled it. Apparently the two older gentlemen had offered to pay her third (or was it forth) drink, and I got away with a cheap (and drunk) date. I told Stacy it was time to go, and she looked at me with a mixture of apprehension and excitement.

"Come on, we can't let them wait" I said.

"Let who wait? Who is waiting for us?" She sounded more curious than worried, because she did not yet know what I had in store for her. For a while I wondered if I was going to be able to go through with it, as she seemed awfully wobbly on her feet, but she was able to control her intoxication as we made our way towards the apartment.

As we arrived at the front door, I asked Stacy to find the button for my friend's apartment, while I slipped the key in the lock. I silently turned it and unlocked the door as Stacy pressed the button. I then pretended to hear a buzzer and pushed the door open. Stacy did not seem to notice.

I had left the front door unlocked, and we entered the apartment as if we were expected by those inside. I told Stacy to use the restroom right inside the little vestibule to freshen herself up, while I speak with our hosts. As she went to the restroom I walked down the corridor towards the living room, talking to myself. I was just loud enough so that Stacy could hear a conversation going on, but not so loud that she could hear what was being said, of if there were multiple voices.

Once in the living room I switched on all the lamps and went out in the middle of the floor. As I had planned, the lamps lit up the floor and cast the far end of the room in deep shadow. It was not possible to tell how many, if indeed anyone, was sitting there. Finally I went to the stereo and put on the Sade album I had brought earlier in the day. The sound was loud enough to cover any conversation that may take place in the far end of the room.

I went back to the vestibule and waited for Stacy. The stage was set, and the entertainment about to begin. Stacy soon emerged from the restroom, still looking a little intoxicated and very curious about where she was. I just told her to come with me, and not say a word. We walked down the hallway and entered the well-lit living room, with its rear-most parts hidden in the shadows. I could tell that she was squinting, straining to see who might be hiding in those shadows.

As Sade started singing "The Sweetest Taboo" I slid in behind Stacy and put one hand on her arm, the other around her waist. As we moved to the rhythm of the music, my hands started to explore her body ... her hips, her ass, her breasts. She moved with me, and pressed herself closer to me, apparently oblivious to, or perhaps simply ignoring, the people who may be watching us.

I unzipped her dress very slowly as she moved with me, and I turned her to face the back of the living room before I let it fall to the floor. She didn't seem to care about the exposure. I heard her let out a little gasp as my hand found the clasp to her bra, and as it fell off her shoulders, she pressed her ass against my crotch. I grabbed one of her breasts and started playing with the nipple, and was rewarded with a quiet moan.

I reached in front of her with the other hand, and slipped it into her panties. She started to grind up against me as my fingers slid into her wet crevice and slowly made their way to her clit. I could feel her reaching back and putting her hand behind my neck. I leaned in and kissed her throat and ear lobe, and she let out a louder moan. We stood like that for a little while, until I finally slid off her panties. She was now standing naked in the room, wearing only her stockings and heels, but seemingly oblivious to the fact that she might have an audience.

I felt her reach back and touch the front of my pants, and this time I let it happen. She unzipped the pants and reached in, massaging me through my underwear. I unbuttoned the pants, giving her easier access. Her breathing increased as she was reaching for me, and as flesh touched flesh I could tell that she was surprised to discover my size. Perhaps this would make her realize who she'd been with in the copy room?

She stroked me slowly as I played with her nipples and clit, but soon I wanted more. I turned her around until she was facing me, and gently indicated for her to go down on her knees. She happily obliged, and started to stroke me. We were in profile to the dark back end of the room, and I could tell that Stacy shot an occasional sideways glance over there. But the room was dark, and there was nothing to be seen. And all that was heard was the soft vocals of Sade.

Stacy started sucking me the same way she did in the copy room ... slowly at the tip at first, and then deeper and deeper, using her hand to stroke me at the same time. I put my hand in her hair and helped her set the pace. Just like last time we soon found a nice rhythm, and she expertly drove me closer and closer to orgasm with each little bob of the head. Her eyes were closed and she now seemed completely oblivious to anything except the task at hand.

I wanted it to last just a little longer, and so I pulled out, and pushed her head towards my balls. She started licking them as I slowly stroked myself ... her hand reached up and replaced mine, and I tilted my head backwards, enjoying the feeling of her tongue and hand working in perfect unison.

She soon took me back into her mouth, and I knew I was not going to last for much longer. I grabbed her hair again, and as I increased the pace she knew I was getting ready. I could feel her grabbing my cock a little harder, and forcing it deeper and deeper down her throat. Just as I was about to cum I pulled out and aimed for her breasts. She leaned back and watched as I stroked myself for a few seconds. I could feel the rush of the orgasm, and soon a thick ray of cum shot across her chest, followed by another, then another. I could hear her gasp as I covered her in my cum, and I saw that she had one hand between her legs, rubbing herself as she watched me.

She grabbed my cock and sucked me clean off the last drops of cum. I helped her to her feet, and gave her a long kiss. I then collected her clothes and led her out of the living room and down the hall to the bathroom, where I helped her clean off the cum and get dressed again. We left the apartment as Sade was singing "Mr. Wrong," the last track on the first side of the record. How appropriate ... and timely.

Part VII: A Question of Lust

After we had been officially intimate, our office encounters changed dramatically. Gone were the days of the surreptitious peeks and incidental touches. We were now in full on lovers' mode - explicit, uninhibited, even a little careless. What was once me catching a glimpse of her legs or breasts, became me asking her to sit in the chair across from my desk, put her feet up and rub her pussy. And what was once the soft touch of a hand putting back a tie clip became a full on lap dance...and late at night also a blowjob or two.