It is my personal rule never to fool around with a co-worker. Michael was the exception to my rule. I’d heard the buzz about the ‘hot new guy in Marketing’ before I met him. During drinks with the girls one night after work, I learned that Michael was tall, with short, thick, dark brown hair, smoldering green eyes, and a tight ass. “Tight, but juicy,” Sheila had told me.
The girls were right. He was everything they described, and more. He was attractive, confident and funny. I hit it off with him immediately. We became fast friends exchanging silly e-mails, lingering at the coffee machine early each morning and chatting in the copy room every chance we had. I enjoyed our playful working relationship during the day, and fantasized about him as I pleasured myself each night.
One late night at the office, it seemed my fantasies might come true… I closed my office door, removed my blazer and hung it over the back of my chair. I sat down, kicked my shoes off beneath my desk and began working. It wasn’t until the phone rang that I looked at the clock. I’d been working hard and steady for nearly two hours, and it showed. My blouse was partially unbuttoned, sleeves were pushed up above my elbows, and my long, blond hair was twisted into a loose, misshapen bun.
I picked up the receiver. “Hey, it’s Michael. Working late?” he asked.
“Yes, I’m just trying to finish this proposal,” I replied.
“Am I interrupting?” he asked politely.
“Oh, no. Actually, I can use the break,” I offered. I leaned back in my chair, arched my back and stretched.
“Well, to be honest, I just can’t stop thinking about you,” he said in a smooth, seductive voice. There was silence for a moment. I didn’t know how to respond. His comment seemed inappropriate, but I liked hearing it. The truth was I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him either. I wasn’t sure what to say, so I stayed quiet.
He went on, “I’m just imagining you, sitting at your desk, leaning back in your chair. What are you wearing?”
“I’m wearing a skirt and a blouse,” I stated simply.
“What kind of skirt? Short? Long? Tell me,” he coaxed.
“Short, I guess. It ends right above my knee.”
“Pull it up higher, around your hips,” he ordered.
“What?” I laughed. “Are you serious?” I was shocked, but intrigued. Our conversations had often been mischievous, but had never taken a turn in this direction. I was uncertain, but curious. I wondered where this could go.
“Come on, Liz. Pull it up. What are you wearing underneath?” he asked breathlessly.
“You’re nuts,” I told him. I waited. I wanted to see if he was playing around. He didn’t respond, so I gave in. “I’m wearing panties…and pantyhose,” I replied. He was quiet and I knew he was waiting for more detail. “Okay…pink satin panties and just ordinary pantyhose, you know?”
“Mmmm,” he growled, “pull that skirt up and take those pantyhose down.”
I pondered it for a moment. It seemed so ridiculous, but part of me wanted to do it. “Come on, Liz. Please,” he pleaded. I could hear him breathing and it was turning me on.
