She loves the weekends. It's her chance to sleep in – although for her, sleeping in means getting up at 6:30 in the morning – greet the day at her own pace, reflect and plan. If she wants, she can spend three hours at the gym. She can talk to my friends who are long-distance for free. She can bake lasagna large enough to feed a family of 30, if she'd like. But best of all, she can sit on her couch, savor a large mug of coffee, watch the sun come up and let her mind wander until she decides it's time to move. It's her time, in the quiet and near dark just to be. That's a very rare treasure to possess anymore; so when the doorbell rang at 7:00, she was curious, but more annoyed that she had to tighten up her robe, to see who was gracing her with their presence. The kid standing in front of her looked even less thrilled to be on her doorstep; it was freezing cold and she could tell he was not a morning person. After quickly confirming her name, he handed her a small envelope, and grunted his goodbye, not even waiting for a tip. Pity, she's an outstanding tipper.
Closing the door behind her and running to cuddle up beneath a blanket, she opened this token of someone's affection, curious to know what was inside. It was a nice little card and the handwriting was unmistakable. It was Paul's and the brief message was crystal clear, "9:00, under the glass." She couldn't help but giggle. Men are such simple creatures, and she loves them to bits and pieces for that. Give them a good meal, good sex and a chance to sleep, maybe watch sports, and they're happy pappies. This was going to be fun.
Seeing as she only had a couple hours, shefinished as much coffee as she could before whipping up the steps to get herself ready. She may be the only woman on the planet who truly enjoys shaving her legs (as well as other areas). There's a sense of power that she derives from the action, knowing that it's her choice; not just to shave, but to engage in the activities that follow that shave. She's the one in control of the situation. It took every ounce of self-control to not let the shower head linger too long in any one spot. Why start too soon? Getting dressed was easy. She's had a dress in the back of her closet for the longest time that was absolutely perfect for today, even with the frigid weather. It wraps around the body and ties closed at the waist. Even with her small breasts, the low-v cut that's created can be exciting – it's low enough that you can tell she's not wearing much of anything under it. Solely for the purposes of staying warm, she added some nylons that were decorated with pin stripes and was very careful when hooking them up – being a clutz now was not an option.
With the heels on, she took one last look in the mirror. Even if Paul didn't like the image, she was feeling pretty fierce. Besides, if he didn't approve, she was sure he'd take matters into his own hands. As she shrugged her shoulders and turned to walk out the door, her hips started to understand; her whole body began to understand. Immediately, the tension melted from her shoulders and they dropped to either side; her arms swayed slowly back and forth. All her power dove deep into her hips and lower back. Her legs were mere extensions and props, one step flowing into another, taking her to the car.
When she arrived at her destination, his office, the power was still in her hips. With each step forward she felt the excitement grow – first her hips rocked to the sides just a little more with each step, then the insides of her thighs began to quiver. She started to breathe a bit faster and the smile overtook her lips. Giddy and impatient was not the look she wanted to go for. Waiting for the elevator gave her just enough time to settle down. She inhaled deep, closed her eyes and parted her lips just enough to exhale very slowly. "Breathe, baby girl. Settle down." A few more deep breaths and she was self-possessed. The elevator took her quickly to hery final destination and she had to press the back of her head into the elevator wall to keep her balance. The doors opened and she walked out. He was very easy to spot, working away at his computer, trying very hard to concentrate on his task. It was adorable to witness and she couldn't wait to tear him away from it all.
He pretended to not notice she had walked up behind him. It gave her the opportunity to bend over, kiss his ear and peek at the screen. The naughty little boy was making a new friend. Judging by the conversation, she was very intelligent and her picture was very pretty – a rounded face, beautiful cheeks, icy blue eyes and black hair. She was observant and somewhat psychic, too. At the same time that one whispered the question in Paul's ear, she typed it, "Who's your friend?" Whoever, she was, Becca already knew she liked her.
Becca smiled and waved to show her friendliness, then remembered the note: "under the glass." Without another word, she removed her coat and crawled obediently underneath his desk settling in to enjoy the view. She figured it must have been a very good conversation – he was typing rapidly and mumbling a few words that she guessed were French, but who knows? The straight face and little grunts were a good give away, though. Becca was amused.
"Paul, sweetie, you're alone in your office. The only other person around you is me. Relax, have some fun." She stroked his thighs and could tell he had started to loosen up. "I know your camera is on, so you don't have to answer with words, but tell me, is she hot?" He managed a short moan that worked as a "yes." She worked the massage from the tops to the insides of his thighs and asked, "Is she okay with you having a woman under your desk?"
