I sat in the outer office of the Norman Creed, our company comptroller, and waited for him to finish with his prior meeting. He had called me here late Friday afternoon, just as I was leaving my office, and I was anxious to get home. My wife and I had a romantic getaway weekend planned, and the drive was going to take a few hours. I was more than ready to get packed, get a bite to eat, and maybe get in a quickie before we left. With each passing minute it looked like the quickie was going to have to wait.
I had been the division manager at Electrocorp for the past five years, having moved into the company after being a lead consultant on the company's last expansion project. Electrocorp wasn't a major company, but it had a solid niche as a provider of specialty electronic devices to manufacturing businesses worldwide. It was a good job with good pay, and while Electrocorp was the biggest employer for five or six counties in every direction, it didn't exactly make me a "captain of industry."
I was comfortable with my situation. I had good prospects, too. Most of my peers considered me the logical person to replace the Vice President of Finance if he became CEO when our current CEO retired in a couple of years. It all seemed like a pretty good deal, only a few more years and I'd be on the corporate team, eligible for the big options and stock bonuses that the company officers all received.
But my wife Brenda was getting impatient with the pace of my rise in the company, she wanted to enjoy the lifestyle of an executive sooner rather than later. She kept urging me to be more aggressive in seeking out promotions and opportunities to move more rapidly. Mostly I think she wanted me to make enough money to quit her job and still maintain, or even expand, our affluent lifestyle. I tried to convince her that patience and a laid-back approach would work better than aggression with the executive team at Electrocorp, but she was starting to get on my case about not being motivated enough. She had grown up in this area of the country, and I think a large part of her motivation was to join the "upper tier" of society in the country club set. Her family had always teetered on the edge of poverty, and she wasn't going to be content until she made it all the way to the top.
She had always been more driven then I was, in every aspect of our lives. We met when I was the lead consultant designing a new product line for Electrocorp. I lived in Boston, where I had grown up, and commuted by plane every week to Middle America to lead this job. It sounded a lot more glamorous than it really is, and it was really a lot more hard work than I was interested in at that point in my life.
Brenda was a junior staff accountant, a product of the regional community college accounting program. She was still fairly new to the company herself, and our consulting assignment required a lot of her assistance as we put together different financial scenarios. Brenda is a strikingly beautiful, lean, tall redhead with copper colored hair to the middle of her back and killer legs. I've always been a leg and foot guy, a bit of a fetishist actually, and Brenda was any leg man's ultimate dream.
When we first got to know each other, though, Brenda was always "all business". She seemed to wear her modest diamond engagement ring and dark framed reading glasses as a shield against guys like me, or so I thought. And I was trying to decide between two other women at the time—one local and one in my hometown. I wasn't really looking for additional complications in my life. I figured Brenda would always remain an object of hot fantasies, but nothing more.
The night our relationship started the two of us were working very late, as we often had. It was in the same office that now belonged to the comptroller. At the time it was vacant and we had it set up as the consulting team headquarters. I remember her leaning over the desk looking for some papers...dressed in a blue business suit with a white satin blouse and matching white pantyhose. She had taken her shoes off and was stretching up on tiptoes to get a stack of papers from the other side of the desk. My gaze drifted down her legs and my mind was set to wandering, imagining what it would be like to suck on her pretty toes and lick my way up those killer legs. Her stocking covered feet were driving me nuts.
I usually stopped myself in these little reveries before they had any effect, or before I was caught, but this time I guess I was tired because I let myself fantasize long enough to grow an erection in my pants. Since I wore boxers under my silk suit, there was little I could do to cover up without making it more obvious, so I just hoped she wouldn't notice. Not that I had much to notice...fully erect my cock is only three inches if measured generously, and my balls are small as well.
Just so you don't get the wrong impression, my package is the only undersized part of my body. I'm 6'2" and very muscular. Maybe I was psychologically overcompensating for having a small prick, but I spent most of my youth focused on athletics and body building, including liberal use of steroids. I had a dream of being in the NFL, and at one time that dream looked like it might be in reach. I started on a big name college football team as a defensive end, and I had both knees blown out in a career ending injury on a illegal chop block in my last bowl game. After a good number of only somewhat successful surgeries, I knew I'd never have the speed or agility that would have made me a strong late-round draft pick, so I went off the steroids and decided to focus on a less intensive career where my good looks and easy-going personality would serve me well. I'm considered a very handsome man, and at one point I had some agents talking to me about getting me cast in a superhero role in a movie, but those things never really panned out.
I thought Brenda probably hadn't noticed my little tent in my pants, because she took the stack of papers she was reaching for and sat down with them on the chair opposite mine. She seemed to be paying no attention to me at all, flipping through the large stack of papers. I went back to my work, glancing up at her occasionally to see what I could see.
She seemed to be having a hard time finding a comfortable position in the overstuffed blue leather armchair, because she continuously folded and unfolded her legs, and shifted from one position to another, all the while never lifting her gaze from her paperwork. Finally she seemed to settle on a position where she was slightly slumped in the chair, with her legs straight out in front of her, the soles of her pretty feet pointed straight at me. This position hiked her skirt slightly up on her thighs, so I had a better view of her legs and feet than I had all night. The effect was immediate. My erection, which I had hoped would subside, grew to throb and twitch under my pants. I was captivated looking at her, and wasn't getting any work done at all.
Then she did me in...she started alternately flexing, stretching and arching one foot, then the other. I found that couldn't shift my gaze, even if I had wanted to, and I began to fear that my cock would start to leak pre-cum with all the visual stimulation I was getting. At one point I think my mouth had fallen open and I was unconsciously working my tongue against the roof of my mouth imagining sucking those darling little toes. It was at that point she spoke, jarring me out of my reverie.
"Eddie, I'm sorry, I seem to be...distracting you...making it hard for you...to work." She was looking me straight in the eyes, and I'm afraid at this point I was blushing hotly, as much from arousal as from embarrassment. "I'll put my shoes back on...."
"No!" I blurted out with too much enthusiasm..."I mean, no...you don't have too, I was just thinking about the project...I mean I was kind of absently...I'm sorry if I seemed too...." I had no idea where I was going with what I was saying, but my eyes drifted away from hers and back down to her legs.
"Oh," she said, sounding a bit disappointed, "I thought maybe I was distracting you by stretching my feet and toes. Spending the whole day in those high heeled pumps can just make them ache." She set her papers and eyeglasses aside and bent over at the waist, slowly running her hands down her legs to her feet. After rubbing both feet she grasped her left foot in both hands and brought it up to her thigh to massage it more seriously. This spread her legs further and hiked up her skirt even more, and I could nearly see up all the way to her crotch. If the light had only been better....
She looked back at me again..."You're sure this doesn't bother you too much? I know it's not very professional...." I couldn't keep eye contact. My attention was riveted to her legs and feet.
"Umm, yes, I mean, no, it's not too much." I usually was much smoother and in control, but she had me worked up and I wasn't able to keep myself composed.
"Could you do me a favor?" she asked innocently.
"Sure."
