PART 1
I race to a halt and stand panting outside the office. My feet are killing me. These new high heels are not made for sprinting. Gulping a few nervous breaths, I smooth down my pink top and white mini. The door is ajar but I knock anyway then take a few steps back. I look down at my fluffy pink purse swinging back and forth across my thighs as if it's as anxious as I am to get this thing over with. The door jerks open and I watch two slightly scuffed, black shoes step towards me. I dare not look up.
"You're late again," Raymond growls. "What did I tell you last time?"
"You said it was my last chance, Raymond but...."
"No buts! I have had enough of your excuses. What does last chance mean, Lucinda?"
"It means I should pack up my desk and leave?" I venture as I glance up at his round, middle aged face and then quickly down again.
"Does it now?" he replies with a callous laugh.
Raymond Johnson's hideous brown and cream suit is far too tight but buttoned all the way up regardless. His huge belly appears to be begging for release and the orange tie around his neck looks like it's strangling him. I wish it would.
'What's with all these questions?' I think to myself. 'Just do it, you fat git. Sack me, Raymond, damn it!'
I wait, eyes lowered but Raymond is silent. Eventually I tilt my head up and for an instant, just a second, I catch old Raymond perving at my cleavage. His gaze is fixed upon my breast like he's never seen tits before. Maybe he hasn't? Then our eyes meet and in a few swift movements he blushes, coughs and looks away.
I mentally congratulate myself on choosing the pink top this morning. It's tight, low-cut and, even if I do say so myself, really accentuates my best assets. Let's face it, not every girl is tall, slim and endowed with 38DD's. This unexpected, lusty-lapse on my manager's behalf has had an instant, 180 degree effect on the dynamics of the situation. I lift my chin insolently, toss my wavy red hair to one side and roll my shoulders back. This causes my breasts to perk jauntily in his direction and, as he is short, my twin peaks are aimed right down his line if vision. I smile mischievously, knowing the exact effect my full lips will have. We're on my turf now.
Poor old Raymond is really rattled. He can't help but take in my smile then, as if he has no control, his eyes stray down to my tits again. He licks his chubby lips. His face is flushed and beads of sweat are beginning to glisten on his brow. His balding grey comb-over looks even more like a tacky spider web than usual.
"Lucinda, perhaps we should discuss this in...in private," he mumbles.
Even though there's no one around he glances furtively left and right before guiding me into his office. The door clunks shut. He lopes across the large room to the far side of the desk and plops his rotund butt into his big leather chair. His suit buttons strain even further as he points me towards the low backed plebeian's chair facing him. The desk divides us and he reaches into the middle of it for a tissue to mop his brow while I take a seat. To keep my mini from riding up to an obscene level I wriggle back a little in the chair and tug at my hem. Again Raymond's beady little eyes wander, this time the length of my long, tanned thighs.
Raymond is clearly as horny and desperate as any man β maybe more so. If I play my cards right I might be able to keep my job and even land myself a nice little bonus. I look across at Raymond, my big green eyes meet his squinty brown ones. I glimpse lust, hunger and hope in their depths - time to lay my ace on the table.
"Raymond I'm really sorry. My alarm clock broke. What can I do to make it up to you? I can't afford to loose my job. I'll do anything it takes."
I lean forward to give him a better view of my titties, blinking a couple of times for full effect. Raymond eyes are glued to my boobs and his lardy lips form a slow, lascivious smile.
"Meet me here at 6pm. We should be able to come to some sort of ... errr ... arrangement."
Bingo!
PART 2
Raymond means business. The office door is locked, phone diverted and the blind has been drawn. His ugly orange tie is snaked over the desk. The jacket's been unbuttoned at last and is flung over a nearby filing cabinet; his flabby, shirt-clad waist hangs over his belt. Leaning back in his big tilt chair, hands clasped behind his head, Raymond's trying β almost successfully - to look like he's done this a thousand times before.
"Take off your clothes, Lucinda β all of them. Do it nice and slow. Make it interesting."
I do as he says, taking my time and using a few of the moves I picked up watching porno films with an ex who liked that sort of thing. It's working. There's a distinct bulge forming in Raymond's crotch. As I gyrate and writhe, humming stripper music in my head, I absently wonder how his prick can manage to expand at all under such confined conditions.
I slip out of my lacy bra and matching thong and toss them on the pastel coloured pile of clothes by the door. I'm naked now except for the damned high heels. They're still killing me but Raymond wants me to leave them on and to keep dancing. The sleaze is staring at my every move while rubbing his crotch at regular intervals.
"Come over here, take my seat," he groans.
As I walk slowly towards the desk he stands. For some reason this feels weirder than the dancing, so I sit as demurely as I can under the circumstances. I perch on the very edge of the chair, legs crossed with my right arm covering my breasts.
Raymond removes his shirt, exposing his lily white girth. This is obviously a man who adores fast food and has not ventured outdoors in years. He stands before me looking down with his hands by his side. His belly protrudes and cock is still very obvious, despite the tight brown/cream trousers. His comb-over has even developed its own little erection, standing up on end as if his penis and hair are of one mind. I feel a giggle rise but quickly suppress it.