WARNING:
The following story is for the entertainment of ADULTS ONLY, and contains descriptions of explicit sex. If you are not an adult, or reading sex stories upset you, or you are offended by subjects of a sexual nature - do not read any further!
This story is for entertainment only. It contains adult oriented material. This is a work of fiction. The acts and characters contained within are figments of my imagination and have no basis in fact. I do not practice, advocate, condone or encourage acts portrayed here. The characters in the story are entirely fictional. You need to believe that all of the characters are over the age of eighteen.
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A Harvey Marcus Retrospective: Office Mating
In a sudden delusion caused by two simultaneous synapses crossing each other, I thought, "Gee, wouldn't it be keen to tell the story of how I, Harvey Marcus, got started with all of this screwing around. I mean, it didn't just happen out of nothing. Everything has a cause, a spark, an ignition. So, here's another Official Retrospective, detailing how I involuntarily got sucked into a campaign of accidental sex with all of the world's eighteen-year and older females.
Episodes One and Two found me seduced by two different babysitters. Episode Three (not yet published) will involve a stranger who demanded sex, while Episode Five (already published) partnered me with a family member.
This jumps back to my Fourth Official Retrospective, sex with a co-worker. You know the scenario - man and woman who work at the same company and don't care for each other get sent off on a business trip and "something" forces them into physical intimacy. Only, in my story, the wackiest thing happens. You see, the woman is - oh, yeah, I guess I should let you read it. So, go ahead. I won't hover.
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Office Mating
At about the time I got promoted to Director and got a private office, the company hired a dark haired young woman to implement and support technical applications for our department. Her name was Isadora. Her consistent uniform was a starched white blouse and dark skirt, below the knee. She made it clear from her first day in the job that she was to be called Dora. Not Izzy. Definitely not Izzy.
Except that, less than a week later, the crowd she hung with was Izzy-ing like crazy. I remained a Dora caller. In fact, she kept such a distance I could have been a Ms. Muniz caller instead. Since we were both doing technical work, I expected we'd talk more. Never happened. Maybe she thought I was unapproachable, or unfriendly or ugly. It was as if she could read my mind and found lascivious thoughts. No deeds to make me suspect. No overheard comments about her youthful face, button nose, or little body with perfect proportions. No remarks about her teardrop breasts under her close fitting shirts. My father had lots of sayings. One was "Keep your dick out of the inkwell." Or was it "Keep your penis out of the typewriter"? Maybe not memorable but directly applicable. No sex with co-workers. No problem with Dora. We weren't even friends.
Dora worked for Don, in support of sales. The wackiest duo in the company. Don was a wheeler-dealer. Always ready for a good time with clients. An expense account that would choke a horse. But management looked the other way because Don brought in the big deals. Deals that could take a faltering quarter and make it exceptional. Don was personable. No one ever disliked Don, which meant customers made repeat orders, which meant Don was successful. Self-fulfilling loop. And rumors said Don was a fun guy to hang with.
Straight-laced Dora acted subdued and shy, the exact opposite. Dora did the background work while Don made the client visits, wining and dining. Wacky? Steak and sizzle. A match made in business heaven. Odd couples often work out, which is why I couldn't understand why Harriett and I were faltering. She and I were about as opposite as you can get, at least on a few major topics.
My technical peers in other departments got to make business trips, or trips to conferences. Tashun always rejected my requests to attend workshops as "wasted time and money." I was jealous of Don and others who'd often hop on a plane to some exotic location. I made a standing offer to accompany any salesman on a customer visit, if it would help them close a deal. It would be good to get away from Harriett. We were always fighting about money, never having enough, and about sex, and never doing it.
Dora kept her distance, and that was okay, since although we were both technical, our work rarely overlapped. The only time Dora and I were closer than three feet was an incident in the elevator at end of day. Everybody crowded in at five o'clock, eager to get the hell home, or wherever else they were going. Anyplace except the office. The elevator was more than crowded. I was already in, when another wave of workers showed up, insisting on a ride. Dora was one of them. She scurried in and faced the front. I was behind her. My luck, she wore a v-neck sweater. Because she was short and I'm tall, I had a nice view of the curved valley between her breasts. I had no choice but to grow an erection. Completely involuntary and not a problem until she backed up to let more insistent workers on. She must have felt my condition against her back.
"Mr. Marcus!" she shouted.
Everyone looked. My face was on fire. A couple of classless male coworkers hooted. I vowed to stay completely away from Dora from then on.
About a month later, things changed, specifically Dora's attitude and behavior, but only on Wednesdays. She'd come into the office upbeat, more confident, and definitely sexier. And ready to flaunt it. She must have known she had a voluntary audience in me and so she played off of me more than others.
For example, if we had a meeting on Wednesday, she'd always sit next to me, so that the peek-a-boo side of her blouse was facing me. She'd lean over to take notes, allowing the usual white cotton to separate precisely to give me a bra shot. Her breasts weren't huge, not even as big as Harriett's, and my wife is not zaftig, but a direct flirtation and a welcome diversion from Tashun's droning babble.
The most blatant incident, which almost pushed me over the edge, was another Wednesday morning. I was in the coffee room, back when the company provided the beverage for free. I'd already poured and spooned in my sugar. I was holding a carton of dairy product when Dora came in, glowing. I said hello, and complimented her on her choice of clothing, her typical white blouse and ankle-length skirt. Dumb - I know. She stroked the length of my tie. Twice. I had trouble breathing.
"I'm short-waisted," she said in a whisper. "Regular rides long on me." She pulled the material of her skirt, bunching it in her hands at her waist to demonstrate. No one else was refilling at the time, so there were no witnesses. She continued to drag the material higher until it was well above her knees, halfway up her thighs. Her legs were nicely shaped. I swallowed hard, anxious for her to continue the unveiling. She acted proud but nervous, glad to be showing off her physical attributes but scared at the same time. Like a push me-pull you was battling inside her. My hand must have shaken, because I spilled some dairy lightener on the counter.
"Shame on you, wasting cream like that. I've read that cream increases a woman's cellulite. Do you think I have any?" She lifted her skirt higher so that thighs were completely exposed, hinting at panties just above.
"Not that I can see." Sweat ran down my back.
"You're a gentleman."
The sound of others approaching interrupted her teasing. Dora dropped her grip, and her skirt cascaded to full length. The room filled with co-workers and the opportunity to take it the next step, whatever that would have been, was lost. Dora walked out but not without rubbing my shoulder. This was a completely different Dora. Why was she friendly all of a sudden? And show off her legs? Amazing!
The next day, Thursday, Don came calling, with a promising tap on my doorframe. "You up for a trip?"
"Are you kidding? Of course." I'd lucked out. Don knew all of the right places, and perhaps a few of the wrong ones.
Don grinned. "I've arranged for adjoining rooms so we can pretend we have a suite, allow us to work together easier."
"Great! Wait a second. Where are we going?"
"Summerset Corporation in St Louis. Its not LA, but a whole lot better than Huntsville."
"When, and what's my role?" I wanted to be completely prepared. Screwing up Don's sale would make this a once-in-an-employment opportunity.
