My favorite assistant, Roger, was truly amazing. He was the most efficient assistant I have ever had in my twenty years in various managerial positions. For a fantastic looking guy in his mid twenties, Roger never acted like a conceited young stud. Always friendly and helpful, he was a true treasure to have in the office. But his office skills are not his best talents.
When our company was going through a merger recently, my job became very stressful. I was having to spend long hours at the office, and the auditors were driving me crazy. One night we had stayed extra late, trying to keep up with the extra demands. Roger had been with me, doing everything from finding crucial files to getting me dinner.
It was very late when he came into the conference room where I was at one end, surrounded by files. I was sitting with my eyes closed and my face in my hands, trying to clear my head. I heard him set the files I had requested on the table. Instead of asking me if there was anything else I needed, I felt his hands on my shoulders.
"You are very tense, Delia," he said as he began kneading my taut muscles. "I hope you don't mind, but I hate seeing you so stressed. Do you want me to stop?"
"No, please don't stop," I answered as I sat back in the chair and let my hands fall in my lap. I knew I was letting him cross a line, but his warm hands felt so good as he massaged my shoulders. And it was easing my tension a little. Roger worked his way to my neck, and continued his way up. I could feel him loosening the clips that held my long, dark hair up, and felt it fall and slide across my cheek.
He threaded his hands through my hair and began to massage the back of my head with his fingertips, making little circles on my scalp. No one had ever done that to me before, and it felt wonderful. I sighed, the tension easing as his fingers wound through my hair.
"Good, now just relax and enjoy." I could hear the smile in Roger's voice as he spoke.
He worked his way around until he reached my forehead, then began giving my face gentle attention. He stroked his fingertips across my forehead, making the same little circles. He took care to caress every single inch of my face. By the time he came to my lips I was leaning my head back against his taut stomach. He gently traced each lip with his thumbs as he cupped my chin in his hands.
"I think that's the first time you've smiled since you greeted me this morning," he said. "I'm glad I can help."
I could feel his fingers massaging my jaw line and working their way down my neck. It tingled from his hands to my genitals as he got lower, his hands sliding under my collar. He was almost to the swell of my breasts, but then he moved his hands back up to my shoulders. I felt a little disappointed. Then I mentally shook myself.
Roger's voice broke into my thoughts. "You know this jacket is really in the way of me being effective here. Would you take it off please?"
His tone sounded more like an assumption that I would comply than a request. But I stood up to take the jacket off anyway. He took it from me and hung it over another chair, then took my hand and pulled me away from where I'd been sitting.
"You're looking better," he told me while he surveyed my body, "but you still need some serious help." His deep blue eyes met my brown ones. "Will you let me help you, Delia?" His gaze was open and guileless. I looked for ulterior motives, maybe even hoped for them, but he gave no indication that he meant anything besides the wonderful massage he had started giving me.
"Yes, please," I answered. The massage was a nice treat, something I had been far short on lately with all the grueling hours I had been putting in at work.
"The first thing we need to do is get you away from all these files," he said as he led me to the other end of the conference table. He smiled. "And next is to get you a little more comfortable."
He bent down and grasped the back of my ankle and lifted my foot. I had to put my hand quickly on his shoulder for support. He quickly slipped off one shoe, and then did the same with my other foot. With my heels on I was a respectable 5' 6", and felt like more of an equal with most of my coworkers, but without them I was a diminutive 5'3". He stood up and suddenly Roger was almost a foot taller than I was.
I looked up and he smiled at me again. Damn, I had never noticed he had such a devastating smile. It was starting to really have an effect on me now, though. The way his eyes lit up and the corners of his mouth slowly curled made me feel a lurch in the pit of my stomach.
"First things first," he said. "I'm going to rub your feet but I can't do it properly through those pantyhose. Please remove them."
He quickly turned and got a couple of blankets out of the cupboard against the wall, a must-have for someone like me who often spends the night at the office. While he got them I slipped my hose off without hesitation and tossed them onto a nearby chair. He left the blankets partially folded and laid them on the conference table. Then he turned back to me.
