Have you ever worked with a total bitch that was also smokin' hot? Who hasn't, right? I had a boss years ago that said women like that "just need a good fuck thrown into them." The one I'm currently dealing with -- well, my favorite one, at least -- is Katherine. Not Kathy. Not Kat. Katherine. She went to an all-girl Catholic high school. Ivy League college. Snooty as hell because she thinks -- she knows -- that she's better than everyone else and those that work with her should be grateful. And absolutely smokin'! She knew it, too. 5' 5", long, blonde hair, slender face, and curves that a Ferrari would have trouble navigating. 38-24-36. She was always wearing skin-tight tops or low cut sweaters. Or a combination of both. Short skirts with high heels that showed off those luscious legs no matter what the weather was like would complete the ensemble.
I couldn't help but get an eyeful whenever she was around. Not necessarily stare, but definitely get a good look. Apparently it didn't go unnoticed.
One day my desk phone rang. It was Katherine.
"Mark, can you come up to my office, please?"
"Sure, I'll be right there." I couldn't imagine what this unscheduled meeting could involve. Her team had nothing to do with my team. We barely interacted with each other. But it meant I'd get to be alone with that incredible body. I'd have to deal with her attitude, though. The first was worth dealing with the latter.
"Hey, Katherine, what's up?" I asked as I entered her office.
"Close the door, please," she said in her usual cold tone.
All the managers' offices had floor-to-ceiling glass fronts that looked out over their team. She closed the remote controlled black drapes behind me. This generally wasn't a good sign. One of three things happened behind those closed drapes. A top secret project was being discussed. Somebody was being disciplined and tears might be involved, so the drapes were closed to help the disciplnee embarrassment. Or somebody was getting canned. We weren't working on any project together, let alone a top secret one. So that scenario could be ruled out. She didn't have the authority to can me, so that was out. That left getting my ass chewed for something.
I closed the door and sat in one of the small, wooden chairs on the opposite side of her desk. She sat in her high-backed manager's chair, all prim and proper, sizing me up with those blue eyes.
"I thought I would speak with you before I go to HR to see if we can resolve this like two adults," she said.
"HR?! What the hell did I do that would make you go to HR?!" I was stunned and completely caught off guard.
"Language, please," she said, looking down her nose at me.
"Fine, okay. So what did I do?"
"I feel uncomfortable around you. Harassed. Sexually harassed."
"What?! We barely speak. I've never touched you, even accidentally. What are you talking about?!"
"Not with the spoken word. With your eyes. I feel as if you're undressing me with your eyes any time I'm around you."
I was incredulous. It was true, of course. But incredulous nonetheless. "You have
got
to be kidding me!"
"No, sir, I am not kidding you."
"So you were going to go to HR because you don't like the way I look at you?"
"Yes. That's right." She placed her hands on the desk and intertwined her fingers.
"Good luck with that," I chuckled. "If that's the case, Barry and Joe will be filing a case against me, too." She didn't see the humor in that.
"Be that as it may, I thought we could have a discussion like two adults and see if we can come to some sort of resolution that's satisfactory to both parties."
"C'mon, Katherine. You wear those skin tight shirts, low v-necks, short-short skirts. C'mon."
"So you're saying I deserve your leers?"
"Not necessarily deserve. Encourage."
"Encourage?" she said with an annoyed tone.
"Yes, encourage. C'mon. You know exactly what you're doing."
"I have no idea what you're talking about. I dress in attire that I feel comfortable in. I have no intention of encouraging unwanted leers from animals such as you."
"Animal, huh? I've got an animal in my pants just for you,"
I thought to myself. "So, what am I supposed to do? Never look at you?"
"No, nothing that drastic. That would be unrealistic." She paused. "In psychology class it was suggested that people react to an unknown experience differently. Some are frightened. Some are curious. Some are infatuated. Once that unknown, whatever it may be, has been explained or experienced, that persons feeling about said experience is alleviated in most cases."
"So, what's this unknown experience to think you can alleviate for me?" I wasn't sure where this was going. Therapy for me? Professional growth classes? Good luck with that.
"You seem to be infatuated with my breasts. Maybe if you experience them it will alleviate your infatuation with them, thus solving the issue that we're having."
"Wait. What?" My mind was racing. Was she suggesting what I think she was suggesting? "'Experience' your breasts? How do you plan on doing that?"
"I think letting you see my breasts should suffice," she said in a flat voice.
My jaw smashed against the floor. My eyes nearly came out of my head. "Seriously?" She nodded her head. "Okay, is this a set up? Are you recording this so you can take it to HR?" I scanned the room and the ceiling.
"No. I assure you this is not a set up. This is science in action." Silence filled the room. Stunned silence from me. Cold silence from her. "What do you say? Shall we try?"
I swallowed hard. "Absolutely!"
"Don't act so excited," she said as she started to unbutton her blouse. "This is not for pleasure. This is to alleviate your infatuation so that we can continue to work together."
"Sure. Right. Whatever."
"Get on with it!"
I thought.
She unbuttoned the blouse and peeled it off her shoulders, revealing a lacy white bra that was struggling to contain her 36DDs. She laid the blouse on her desk and folded it nice and neat. Then she reached behind her, unclasped her bra, and nonchalantly pulled it down her arms, placing it on top of the neatly folded blouse.
Her tits were amazing! Better than I had even imagined. The skin was lightly tanned, matching the rest of her body. No tan lines. Interesting. Miss Prude tans topless at the very least. They were round and firm. I'm pretty sure when Bob Seger wrote the words "way up firm and high" he had Katherine's tits in mind. Her areolas were pink and quarter sized. The cool air of the office had her nipples grow to gum drop sized points almost immediately. I instantly had a hard on.
She placed her hands on the desk once again and clasped them together. Her tits hung over them like hot air balloons.
"There. Now. You've seen them," she said without an ounce of feeling, as if she was asking me how my day was going. "That should satisfy your infatuation with my bosom."
"Yeah, I don't think so," I said, scratching my chin. "Maybe if I got a closer look."
