Daily, I have to visit the Finance department at least once, sometimes four or five times. My main
interaction is with a shy, soft spoken, 50-ish manager who is ever sweet and endearing. When so many of the senior management staff are abrupt, loud and demanding, Henry is the polar opposite – asking please and saying thank you, requesting, not commanding I found it annoying and phony at first, but as time went on I found him utterly sincere. I guessed Henry at about 20 years my senior, but I never asked. Whatever his age, he maintains a soft handsomeness. He has short, salt and pepper hair, thoughtful green eyes, and a warm smile. He is my height, but when I wear heels I seem to tower over him. It's only a few inches, but I'm a big lady with a big personality. Compared to his slight build and quiet demeanor, it seems like a foot.
Henry is always especially accommodating to me. Whereas others talk down to and take advantage of his non-confrontational manner, I have always respected it. Because of that, he treats me like a princess.
I never thought much about Henry, except that he was sweet and handsome. But those were just observatory thoughts, nothing out of which to make fantasies. Then one day I was preparing to attend a meeting that required a report from the finance department, which no one seemed to have. I stopped in to see Henry and he had the report for me in a matter of minutes, saving me from all kinds of executive level embarrassment. I thanked him graciously, giving him a quick hug. He spoke his welcome, followed by the words, "You know I'd do anything you ask." I looked at him with a half smile, ready to make a flirtatious comment, but I could see the trepidation on his face, so I decided against it.
"I know, Henry, thank you," I said. But my thoughts about him were never the same.
After the meeting that day, when my mind was free to wander, I imagined Henry doing all manner of different things that I asked. For the next few weeks my thoughts were monopolized by brief glimpses of Henry being my boy toy: Of his soft mouth kissing my breasts and belly, of his tongue greedily lapping at my clit, of his cock sliding slowly in and out of me – all at my beckoning. I would then shake it off, telling myself that I was reading way too much into his comment. As confident as I am, I still never believe a man's interest is real until it's acted upon by him.
Later that month I again required Henry's assistance with a last minute request, and again he was all-too-happy to oblige. I showed my appreciation with a hug once again and this time, Henry replied with a warm, "I told you, Jane, anything you ask." There was slightly less fear in his eyes this time, so I responded with a playful wink.
"I'll keep that in mind, Henry." I said, and turned and rushed off to my meeting. All throughout the meeting I could barely concentrate, my mind juggling the idea of pursuing anything further with Henry. What if I was reading too much into it? There was no way to tell for sure unless I tried. As difficult as it was for me to make the first move, I know that with Henry, I would have to be the pursuer.
At the end of the day I walked by Henry's office to see if he was still around. It was after 6:30 already, since I stayed late to catch up on a few things, and I was doubtful he would still be there. Much to my excitement, there he sat, doing a pile of catch-up work himself. I stood in the doorway and greeted him with a quiet "Hi, Henry." I startled him a little but when he realized who it was he smiled broadly. "I just wanted to stop down and say thank you again. Twice now you've saved my ass in an executive meeting and it means a lot."
"Anytime, Jane," he responded, "I look forward to doing things that please you. I wish I could do more."
With that, I knew I wasn't overreacting to his comments. I knew he wanted something more. I closed the door behind me, walked up to his desk, and sat on the edge in front of him. The slit in my long black skirt rode up as I sat, giving him a glimpse of my sheer red panties. I perched my left foot on the right side of his chair, my red patent stiletto brushing against his thigh. He was less apprehensive than I expected, instead his face gleamed with excitement and delight. "Henry," I said, my voice taking on a husky tone. "You have to stop saying things like that or I'm gonna start thinking you have a thing for us big girls."
"You don't have to think it," he replied softly, "it's true. I told you, your wish is my command."
He looked me directly in the eyes as he said it. The fire in his eyes and the sound of his soft, deep voice instantly made me wet with desire. I shifted slightly and gave him a better view of the promised land. He glanced down and gave an approving smile, but he didn't make a move. He really was waiting for me to ask.
I've never been the "dominatrix" type, but I don't mind being in control and asking for what I want. The problem is, most guys want the control. Now the roles were reversed, and I was almost electrified, ready and willing to ask for – and receive – my body's desires, all from this handsome, soft spoken, older man.
"Well, Henry, you can start by taking off my sweater," I directed. He stood and grabbed the hem of my red, snug-fitting, v-neck sweater and pulled it up over my head slowly. I licked my red lips and reveled in the feeling of the soft cashmere as it caressed my skin. He cast it to the side and stood there waiting patiently for the next instructions. 'This is going to be fun,' I thought to myself.
