The Businessman
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Even the most moral man can sometimes face a situation in which all that he believes about himself can be cast aside, allowing him to engage in the type of behavior he thought restricted to more profane people. That was the lesson Kyle Richardson learned on the day he interviewed for a replacement secretary. He wanted to believe there existed no situation that would have made him do what he did, and looking back on it he could find many factors that contributed to his lapse in moral judgment. His business was failing, he had just caught his wife having a year-long affair, the doctor told him if he didn't make his lifestyle more healthy then he was facing the chance of a heart attack within months. It was a very bad week, and a bad day on top of that with the utilities bills arriving in the mail along with a summons to appear in court because someone wanted to sue him. He was not in a healthy frame of mind when Sandy walked through his door.
She was not a typical beauty, not the kind of girl that would make a man normally snap from his prudent belief system. In retrospect, he wasn't sure what it was about her that made him lapse. She was short for one thing, barely five-three at a guess, judging by how even in heels the top of her head was only level with his nose. Plump, too, with a round face and wide hips. Obviously not a girl used to attempting to look pretty, he thought, eyeing her rather frumpy flower-print dress that clashed with her too-dark pantyhose, the white clunky heels, and the fake pearl necklace. He couldn't decide if her hair was naturally curly or if it was a bad perm, but the color definitely wasn't natural, not with all those strange reddish highlights in what he figured was normally brown hair. Add the glasses on her face and the braces on her teeth, and she was not really anyone's ideal of attractive.
So the erection he got as he talked to her confused him. She was a sweet kid, eighteen years old but still in high school, naive and innocent. And desperate. He sensed it even before she hinted at her desperate home life. Father recently laid off, a mother who had never worked at anything more than emptying wine bottles, she was eager for the job. And Kyle, normally never the kind of man to take advantage of anyone, experienced a significant slip in control.
"You know the job is part time, right?" he asked her half an hour into the interview. "I can tell you, though, that if you do a very good job, I can give you more hours and a pay raise when summer comes. You know, when you can devote more than the afternoon to the job."
"Yes, sir," she said brightly, sitting on the edge of her chair and smiling eagerly. "I can do the job, I know it. I've taken business courses at school, I can type and do data entry, I'm good at answering the phone..."
"There's more to the secretary's job than office work," he said. It was true, but saying it nagged him. He said, "There's running errands, too. Getting me coffee Generally, you know, taking care of me."
"Taking care of you?" she repeated, face scrunching cutely. "I... I can do that, sir."
"Can you? I'm not sure," he said. He leaned back, looking down his nose as if judging her. "You seem awfully... well, let's just say innocent."
"Innocent?" she repeated again, confused.
"Haven't you ever heard of what secretaries normally do for their bosses?" he asked. His erection twitched as if in surprise, and he was actually startled. It was as if his intention was sneaking up on even him. She was innocent, and the question could have been just meant to show her that fact. But he didn't mean it that way, and he knew it.
She pursed her lips into a thin line. "I... yes, sir, I think I have," she said. Her blush told him maybe she did understand.
"I have to know how much you want the job, Sandy," he said. "I only want to hire someone who can really do the job. Who is willing to go the distance. I don't want to have to replace you in a few weeks because... well, you know. Because you can't do what's required."
"What's required?" she said. She had a habit, it seemed, of repeating things he said when they surprised her. She licked her lips, blushing a little more darkly. "I... I really need a job, Mr. Richards," she said. "I can do it. Anything."
"Anything?" he asked, surprised at her and himself both. Her eyes darted up, met his, and danced away. She nodded curtly. He said, "I don't think you know what that means, Sandy. I think that if you really, really wanted this job, you'd go lock the door and pull down the shade. If you think you should look elsewhere, then just go out the door. That's all I can say."
She sat there unmoving for half a minute. Kyle was seething at himself inside. What the fuck are you doing? he screamed at himself. She's in high school! Yeah, but she's also legal, he reminded himself. She's an adult, legally an adult, and she can make this decision for herself. She's qualified to do the work, willing to work for the small amount he can afford, and it was only his feeling of inadequacy brought on by his teetering business and his adulterous wife that caused him to proposition the girl. Still, now it was out there and he couldn't easily take it back. She got up. He wanted to tell her to sit, to tell her he was just joking, but he couldn't make himself speak. She walked to the door and opened it. He felt like shit.
Then she closed it again. He heard the click of the lock. He still felt like shit, but now he was filled with excitement. Was she serious? Would she go through with it? Sure, she wasn't magazine cover material, but she was still cute in a nerdish kind of way. She tugged on the drawstring and lowered the blinds. She didn't turn around for a long moment, and when she did she kept her eyes on the floor. "I... I don't know... what now?" she stammered.
Kyle's heart felt like it would explode from his chest. "Come here," he said tersely, voice nearly cracking. She hesitated and then obeyed, shuffling in her clunky heels over to stand in front of him behind his desk. He took her pale hands in his. They were cold and trembled. "It's okay, I won't hurt you," he told her. He could fuck her, he knew it. She'd allow it. But opportunity doesn't equate to the joy of desire. She would give herself to him only because he demanded it, and that he couldn't stomach. He had never been with a woman, or a girl, who was not fully participatory. Yet how could he stop now? A moment ago he thought only of his own impending pleasure, and now he only felt concern for her. He pushed back, rolling his chair away from her, and pulled her by the hands so that she shuffled after him. He turned her so that she was up against the desk.
"Sit," he ordered. She got up on the desk one buttock at a time, shuffling backward, pushing aside things. He placed his hands on her nylon covered knees. Her legs were shaking. "Relax," he said quietly. "It's okay. I'm not going to do anything."
Her eyes held an unspoken question. If he wasn't going to do anything, why was she still up on his desk? "Okay," he allowed, "I want to do something, but I think you'll like it. Let's make a deal. If you don't like it, then I'll give you a week's pay and you don't have to work for me. If you like it, then you come to work for me. Okay?"
"Uh... okay?" she replied in a timid, confused way, making a question out of her response. Kyle was excited. He felt angry at himself for wanting her, for wanting to go through with this, when it so clearly violated his own moral code. Opportunity can be a potent motivator, he realized. She remained willing, his desire remained strong, and morals only got in the way. He ran his hands up her legs, feeling soft skin beneath the coarse nylon. Fingers slid beneath the hem of her dress followed by hands, and the cuffs of his shirt pushed her dress higher as his hands climbed. She trembled more, prompting him to bend over, to plant soft kisses on her knees, on her thighs, wanting to calm her. It worked, strangely. The trembling lessened. One of her hands lightly touched his head, maybe wanting to push him away and at the same time wanting him to stay. At least that's how he wanted to think of it.
He smelled her as his kisses moved higher. She had obviously not had time to shower before coming to the interview. He pictured her rushing in from school and throwing off her normal clothes, putting on this dress and these hose, spritzing some cologne, and rushing out. He smelled her crotch. Sweat and musk, the odor of a girl who had been active but not overly so. The scent of a girl who kept herself very clean, the smell of a pussy that had probably never been used. His erection throbbed. His lips caressed her inner thighs, hands prizing apart her legs. She spread them a bit reluctantly, but she was determined to go through with this. Her resolve was impressive. She deserved better than this. She should have applied for a job at the grocery store, or at the mall, not with him. Not with the pervert he had suddenly become.
He nuzzled his face between her thighs, into her crotch. She sucked in a breath. He lifted his head and put his hands on her shoulders, urging her backwards until she was propped on her elbows, looking down the length of her body at him. Her chest heaved, reminding him that she had very modest breasts. He wondered what they looked like bare. He might never know, he told himself. He wasn't going to fuck her, as she probably expected. No, his resolve had weakened too much. All he wanted was to give her some pleasure and thereby gain some pleasure for himself in the process. His hands probed beneath her dress, finding the tops of her pantyhose. He tugged them down along with her panties. Her brow furrowed, face twisting in consternation. He waited, and after a long moment she finally lifted her hips. It wasn't quite enough, so she tried putting her feet on the edge of the desk for leverage. The clunky heels slipped off.
He let go of her garments and removed her shoes one at a time, dropping them to the floor. He noticed for the first time that her toenails were painted a bright color, the shade masked by the darkness of her hose. He placed each foot on the edge of his desk, giving them a gentle caress before reaching under her dress again. This time she was able to lift her butt up and allow him to pull her hose and panties down to her thighs. She rested her ass again and put her feet in the air, letting him peel the hose completely off. One hand moved between her legs, pushing her dress down to hide her crotch. Her modestly was actually exciting. He didn't try to pull her hand away. Instead, he began at her feet with more kisses, on bare skin this time, even sucking a couple of her toes. He'd had a girlfriend in college who had liked that, and it seemed Sandy liked it too. She groaned softly and stifled it quickly with a hand over her mouth, the same hand that had been protecting her crotch.
Kyle moved higher, licking and kissing her soft skin, relishing the feel of how smooth she was. He got the feeling she was not a girl who normally wore pantyhose, or who probably normally shaved her legs. She had shaved so she could wear the hose, and the smoothness of her skin was delicious. The higher he went, the louder her breathing became. She didn't return her hand to her crotch to protect her charms. It seemed she was surrendering to him.
He moved his hands languidly up the sides of her legs as his tongue probed her thighs, pushing her dress up in the process. She grasped a fistful of material on her belly as if that would prevent her dress from rising or stop the progress of his tongue, and she groaned softly when his nose touched her bare labia. He knew that's what it was touching. It had to be. Pliant, moist, softer than a cloud. He twisted his face quickly and ran his tongue over what his nose had touched. She didn't have much hair, his lips told him. Her vulva was practically bare, and despite her reluctance her labia were distended in obvious arousal.
"Oh, my god!" she gasped as his tongue probed her. The smell of musk was in his nostrils, strong and heady. There was a tiny hint of urine in the aroma, a bit of butt sweat too, but mostly it was her sex he smelled. He realized now why his wife never liked him to go down on her, because her pussy always smelled... well, used. Sandy's was clean, pure, and utterly delicious. Her smell was strong but gentle at the same time, and her taste was thick, a bit metallic, a little salty. He found her vaginal opening and shoved his tongue into it, probing and wondering if he'd be able to detect a hymen. He couldn't, but that meant nothing. He brought his fingers into play, one on top with his thumb caressing her clitoris, teasing it out of its hood. The other hand came from below, prying apart her lips to give his wriggling tongue better access. "Uhhhh!" she groaned, feet again on the edge of his desk so that she could push her hips up, trying to increase the contact between his mouth and her crotch.
Closing his lips around her clit, he thrummed his tongue over the nubbin while his finger began to poke into her. She was tight, but there was no barrier, and he slowly worked his finger all the way into her. "Uh! Uh! God!" she cried out as he slowly finger-fucked her, feeling wetness trickling out of her. The orgasm came almost as a surprise. He felt her pulsate, and tense, and then she was quivering, drawing back her knees and jerking. He rode it out, and when she relaxed he dropped lower to lap up the juices she had expelled. On impulse, he licked lower, finding her rosebud. Analingus was something he'd never done before, had never thought of doing, but it felt so right to do with her. Her juices had run down to coat her puckered asshole, and though there was a slight smell of sweat there, there was nothing to hint at anything dirty. He probed into her rosebud and she stiffened with a cry. Her feet left the desk and rose into the air, her hips rotating back to give him better access to her ass.
When he returned his tongue to her pussy, her heels came down to rest on his shoulder blades, pressing in an urging motion. Her hand found his hair and ran through it, occasionally tugging at his head when he licked a spot she particularly liked. He finger-fucked her again, curling his finger in search of her g-spot. He brought his other hand down and used a finger on her butthole, her juices making it easy to slip into her. "Oh, my god!" she cried even louder, hips churning. The combination of his tongue on her clit, the finger in her ass, and the finger in her pussy finally connecting with the nerve cluster he knew had to be there sent her screaming into another orgasm. He wondered if other people in the building heard her, and he didn't care. She came harder than he had ever known anyone to cum, and when she was done he eased back gently, slowly, knowing how sensitive she had probably become. Finally he lowered her legs and smoothed down her dress, covering her nether regions, and sat back in his chair with a feeling of smug satisfaction.
She recovered slowly, lifting her head groggily. Her eyes landed on him and a smile exploded on her face along with a blush. "Are you okay?" he asked.
She sat up, legs dangling over his desk. "Yeah," she said, nodding. She looked sheepish but happy at the same time. She put one bare foot on his knee, wriggling her toes against him, and she giggled. "I thought you were going to... you know. Do it to me."
"Not this time," he said. He had meant to reassure her that it would never happen, but something in her tone, something he interpreted as hopeful, changed the words on his lips. He asked, "Does this mean you'll take the job?"
She rolled her eyes in embarrassment, grinning. She thought about it. "How often will you want to, you know, do stuff?" she asked. "I mean, like this."
Fair question. "Twice a week?" he suggested.
She chewed that over. "What if... what if I don't want to?" she asked.
"You can say no anytime you want," he promised. "And I won't fire you because of it. Sandy, if this is the only time we do anything, then that's fine. I like you, I think you'll do a good job. But if you would like to have some, ah, special job benefits..."
He let it hang. She grinned in understanding. "Okay," she said.
"Okay?"
"I'll take the job," she added.
He grinned. There was more that had to be done after that, paperwork to fill out and file, but for now it was enough to help her down off the desk, to stand over her looking down at her bright, upturned eyes, to feel her soft, young body radiating heat so close to him. On impulse, he kissed her and, to his pleasant surprise, she kissed back. She put her panties back on then but stuffed the hose into her purse, put her shoes back on, straightened her hair, and he escorted her out.
"Be here as soon as you can after school," he told her. "Monday through Friday. Sometimes Saturdays, too. Okay?"
"Okay, Mr. Richards," she said.
"Kyle," he said. "I think you should call me Kyle."
"Okay," she said. They looked into each other's eyes, maybe each longing for one last kiss, their relationship cemented now. But she left without a kiss, only a glance backward and an almost shy wave. He closed the door, leaned heavily against it, and sighed. He could smell her on him, in the air too, and it took barely a minute of tugging on his hard cock to spew a heavy load all over the floor. That was the last time, though he didn't know it yet, that he would waste a load on his office floor. Things were going to get much more interesting with his new secretary.
Very interesting, indeed.
She was not a typical beauty, not the kind of girl that would make a man normally snap from his prudent belief system. In retrospect, he wasn't sure what it was about her that made him lapse. She was short for one thing, barely five-three at a guess, judging by how even in heels the top of her head was only level with his nose. Plump, too, with a round face and wide hips. Obviously not a girl used to attempting to look pretty, he thought, eyeing her rather frumpy flower-print dress that clashed with her too-dark pantyhose, the white clunky heels, and the fake pearl necklace. He couldn't decide if her hair was naturally curly or if it was a bad perm, but the color definitely wasn't natural, not with all those strange reddish highlights in what he figured was normally brown hair. Add the glasses on her face and the braces on her teeth, and she was not really anyone's ideal of attractive.
So the erection he got as he talked to her confused him. She was a sweet kid, eighteen years old but still in high school, naive and innocent. And desperate. He sensed it even before she hinted at her desperate home life. Father recently laid off, a mother who had never worked at anything more than emptying wine bottles, she was eager for the job. And Kyle, normally never the kind of man to take advantage of anyone, experienced a significant slip in control.
"You know the job is part time, right?" he asked her half an hour into the interview. "I can tell you, though, that if you do a very good job, I can give you more hours and a pay raise when summer comes. You know, when you can devote more than the afternoon to the job."
"Yes, sir," she said brightly, sitting on the edge of her chair and smiling eagerly. "I can do the job, I know it. I've taken business courses at school, I can type and do data entry, I'm good at answering the phone..."
"There's more to the secretary's job than office work," he said. It was true, but saying it nagged him. He said, "There's running errands, too. Getting me coffee Generally, you know, taking care of me."
"Taking care of you?" she repeated, face scrunching cutely. "I... I can do that, sir."
"Can you? I'm not sure," he said. He leaned back, looking down his nose as if judging her. "You seem awfully... well, let's just say innocent."
"Innocent?" she repeated again, confused.
"Haven't you ever heard of what secretaries normally do for their bosses?" he asked. His erection twitched as if in surprise, and he was actually startled. It was as if his intention was sneaking up on even him. She was innocent, and the question could have been just meant to show her that fact. But he didn't mean it that way, and he knew it.
She pursed her lips into a thin line. "I... yes, sir, I think I have," she said. Her blush told him maybe she did understand.
"I have to know how much you want the job, Sandy," he said. "I only want to hire someone who can really do the job. Who is willing to go the distance. I don't want to have to replace you in a few weeks because... well, you know. Because you can't do what's required."
"What's required?" she said. She had a habit, it seemed, of repeating things he said when they surprised her. She licked her lips, blushing a little more darkly. "I... I really need a job, Mr. Richards," she said. "I can do it. Anything."
"Anything?" he asked, surprised at her and himself both. Her eyes darted up, met his, and danced away. She nodded curtly. He said, "I don't think you know what that means, Sandy. I think that if you really, really wanted this job, you'd go lock the door and pull down the shade. If you think you should look elsewhere, then just go out the door. That's all I can say."
She sat there unmoving for half a minute. Kyle was seething at himself inside. What the fuck are you doing? he screamed at himself. She's in high school! Yeah, but she's also legal, he reminded himself. She's an adult, legally an adult, and she can make this decision for herself. She's qualified to do the work, willing to work for the small amount he can afford, and it was only his feeling of inadequacy brought on by his teetering business and his adulterous wife that caused him to proposition the girl. Still, now it was out there and he couldn't easily take it back. She got up. He wanted to tell her to sit, to tell her he was just joking, but he couldn't make himself speak. She walked to the door and opened it. He felt like shit.
Then she closed it again. He heard the click of the lock. He still felt like shit, but now he was filled with excitement. Was she serious? Would she go through with it? Sure, she wasn't magazine cover material, but she was still cute in a nerdish kind of way. She tugged on the drawstring and lowered the blinds. She didn't turn around for a long moment, and when she did she kept her eyes on the floor. "I... I don't know... what now?" she stammered.
Kyle's heart felt like it would explode from his chest. "Come here," he said tersely, voice nearly cracking. She hesitated and then obeyed, shuffling in her clunky heels over to stand in front of him behind his desk. He took her pale hands in his. They were cold and trembled. "It's okay, I won't hurt you," he told her. He could fuck her, he knew it. She'd allow it. But opportunity doesn't equate to the joy of desire. She would give herself to him only because he demanded it, and that he couldn't stomach. He had never been with a woman, or a girl, who was not fully participatory. Yet how could he stop now? A moment ago he thought only of his own impending pleasure, and now he only felt concern for her. He pushed back, rolling his chair away from her, and pulled her by the hands so that she shuffled after him. He turned her so that she was up against the desk.
"Sit," he ordered. She got up on the desk one buttock at a time, shuffling backward, pushing aside things. He placed his hands on her nylon covered knees. Her legs were shaking. "Relax," he said quietly. "It's okay. I'm not going to do anything."
Her eyes held an unspoken question. If he wasn't going to do anything, why was she still up on his desk? "Okay," he allowed, "I want to do something, but I think you'll like it. Let's make a deal. If you don't like it, then I'll give you a week's pay and you don't have to work for me. If you like it, then you come to work for me. Okay?"
"Uh... okay?" she replied in a timid, confused way, making a question out of her response. Kyle was excited. He felt angry at himself for wanting her, for wanting to go through with this, when it so clearly violated his own moral code. Opportunity can be a potent motivator, he realized. She remained willing, his desire remained strong, and morals only got in the way. He ran his hands up her legs, feeling soft skin beneath the coarse nylon. Fingers slid beneath the hem of her dress followed by hands, and the cuffs of his shirt pushed her dress higher as his hands climbed. She trembled more, prompting him to bend over, to plant soft kisses on her knees, on her thighs, wanting to calm her. It worked, strangely. The trembling lessened. One of her hands lightly touched his head, maybe wanting to push him away and at the same time wanting him to stay. At least that's how he wanted to think of it.
He smelled her as his kisses moved higher. She had obviously not had time to shower before coming to the interview. He pictured her rushing in from school and throwing off her normal clothes, putting on this dress and these hose, spritzing some cologne, and rushing out. He smelled her crotch. Sweat and musk, the odor of a girl who had been active but not overly so. The scent of a girl who kept herself very clean, the smell of a pussy that had probably never been used. His erection throbbed. His lips caressed her inner thighs, hands prizing apart her legs. She spread them a bit reluctantly, but she was determined to go through with this. Her resolve was impressive. She deserved better than this. She should have applied for a job at the grocery store, or at the mall, not with him. Not with the pervert he had suddenly become.
He nuzzled his face between her thighs, into her crotch. She sucked in a breath. He lifted his head and put his hands on her shoulders, urging her backwards until she was propped on her elbows, looking down the length of her body at him. Her chest heaved, reminding him that she had very modest breasts. He wondered what they looked like bare. He might never know, he told himself. He wasn't going to fuck her, as she probably expected. No, his resolve had weakened too much. All he wanted was to give her some pleasure and thereby gain some pleasure for himself in the process. His hands probed beneath her dress, finding the tops of her pantyhose. He tugged them down along with her panties. Her brow furrowed, face twisting in consternation. He waited, and after a long moment she finally lifted her hips. It wasn't quite enough, so she tried putting her feet on the edge of the desk for leverage. The clunky heels slipped off.
He let go of her garments and removed her shoes one at a time, dropping them to the floor. He noticed for the first time that her toenails were painted a bright color, the shade masked by the darkness of her hose. He placed each foot on the edge of his desk, giving them a gentle caress before reaching under her dress again. This time she was able to lift her butt up and allow him to pull her hose and panties down to her thighs. She rested her ass again and put her feet in the air, letting him peel the hose completely off. One hand moved between her legs, pushing her dress down to hide her crotch. Her modestly was actually exciting. He didn't try to pull her hand away. Instead, he began at her feet with more kisses, on bare skin this time, even sucking a couple of her toes. He'd had a girlfriend in college who had liked that, and it seemed Sandy liked it too. She groaned softly and stifled it quickly with a hand over her mouth, the same hand that had been protecting her crotch.
Kyle moved higher, licking and kissing her soft skin, relishing the feel of how smooth she was. He got the feeling she was not a girl who normally wore pantyhose, or who probably normally shaved her legs. She had shaved so she could wear the hose, and the smoothness of her skin was delicious. The higher he went, the louder her breathing became. She didn't return her hand to her crotch to protect her charms. It seemed she was surrendering to him.
He moved his hands languidly up the sides of her legs as his tongue probed her thighs, pushing her dress up in the process. She grasped a fistful of material on her belly as if that would prevent her dress from rising or stop the progress of his tongue, and she groaned softly when his nose touched her bare labia. He knew that's what it was touching. It had to be. Pliant, moist, softer than a cloud. He twisted his face quickly and ran his tongue over what his nose had touched. She didn't have much hair, his lips told him. Her vulva was practically bare, and despite her reluctance her labia were distended in obvious arousal.
"Oh, my god!" she gasped as his tongue probed her. The smell of musk was in his nostrils, strong and heady. There was a tiny hint of urine in the aroma, a bit of butt sweat too, but mostly it was her sex he smelled. He realized now why his wife never liked him to go down on her, because her pussy always smelled... well, used. Sandy's was clean, pure, and utterly delicious. Her smell was strong but gentle at the same time, and her taste was thick, a bit metallic, a little salty. He found her vaginal opening and shoved his tongue into it, probing and wondering if he'd be able to detect a hymen. He couldn't, but that meant nothing. He brought his fingers into play, one on top with his thumb caressing her clitoris, teasing it out of its hood. The other hand came from below, prying apart her lips to give his wriggling tongue better access. "Uhhhh!" she groaned, feet again on the edge of his desk so that she could push her hips up, trying to increase the contact between his mouth and her crotch.
Closing his lips around her clit, he thrummed his tongue over the nubbin while his finger began to poke into her. She was tight, but there was no barrier, and he slowly worked his finger all the way into her. "Uh! Uh! God!" she cried out as he slowly finger-fucked her, feeling wetness trickling out of her. The orgasm came almost as a surprise. He felt her pulsate, and tense, and then she was quivering, drawing back her knees and jerking. He rode it out, and when she relaxed he dropped lower to lap up the juices she had expelled. On impulse, he licked lower, finding her rosebud. Analingus was something he'd never done before, had never thought of doing, but it felt so right to do with her. Her juices had run down to coat her puckered asshole, and though there was a slight smell of sweat there, there was nothing to hint at anything dirty. He probed into her rosebud and she stiffened with a cry. Her feet left the desk and rose into the air, her hips rotating back to give him better access to her ass.
When he returned his tongue to her pussy, her heels came down to rest on his shoulder blades, pressing in an urging motion. Her hand found his hair and ran through it, occasionally tugging at his head when he licked a spot she particularly liked. He finger-fucked her again, curling his finger in search of her g-spot. He brought his other hand down and used a finger on her butthole, her juices making it easy to slip into her. "Oh, my god!" she cried even louder, hips churning. The combination of his tongue on her clit, the finger in her ass, and the finger in her pussy finally connecting with the nerve cluster he knew had to be there sent her screaming into another orgasm. He wondered if other people in the building heard her, and he didn't care. She came harder than he had ever known anyone to cum, and when she was done he eased back gently, slowly, knowing how sensitive she had probably become. Finally he lowered her legs and smoothed down her dress, covering her nether regions, and sat back in his chair with a feeling of smug satisfaction.
She recovered slowly, lifting her head groggily. Her eyes landed on him and a smile exploded on her face along with a blush. "Are you okay?" he asked.
She sat up, legs dangling over his desk. "Yeah," she said, nodding. She looked sheepish but happy at the same time. She put one bare foot on his knee, wriggling her toes against him, and she giggled. "I thought you were going to... you know. Do it to me."
"Not this time," he said. He had meant to reassure her that it would never happen, but something in her tone, something he interpreted as hopeful, changed the words on his lips. He asked, "Does this mean you'll take the job?"
She rolled her eyes in embarrassment, grinning. She thought about it. "How often will you want to, you know, do stuff?" she asked. "I mean, like this."
Fair question. "Twice a week?" he suggested.
She chewed that over. "What if... what if I don't want to?" she asked.
"You can say no anytime you want," he promised. "And I won't fire you because of it. Sandy, if this is the only time we do anything, then that's fine. I like you, I think you'll do a good job. But if you would like to have some, ah, special job benefits..."
He let it hang. She grinned in understanding. "Okay," she said.
"Okay?"
"I'll take the job," she added.
He grinned. There was more that had to be done after that, paperwork to fill out and file, but for now it was enough to help her down off the desk, to stand over her looking down at her bright, upturned eyes, to feel her soft, young body radiating heat so close to him. On impulse, he kissed her and, to his pleasant surprise, she kissed back. She put her panties back on then but stuffed the hose into her purse, put her shoes back on, straightened her hair, and he escorted her out.
"Be here as soon as you can after school," he told her. "Monday through Friday. Sometimes Saturdays, too. Okay?"
"Okay, Mr. Richards," she said.
"Kyle," he said. "I think you should call me Kyle."
"Okay," she said. They looked into each other's eyes, maybe each longing for one last kiss, their relationship cemented now. But she left without a kiss, only a glance backward and an almost shy wave. He closed the door, leaned heavily against it, and sighed. He could smell her on him, in the air too, and it took barely a minute of tugging on his hard cock to spew a heavy load all over the floor. That was the last time, though he didn't know it yet, that he would waste a load on his office floor. Things were going to get much more interesting with his new secretary.
Very interesting, indeed.
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