“Emily, hi,” said Mr Rose, as I entered his penthouse office.
His office, his secretary out in the anteroom, that’s all there was on the top floor. The air felt different up here. Rarified.
“Hi,” I replied, controlling my anxiety. “Should I close the door?”
“Yes please,” he said. “And take a seat.”
I closed the door behind me and made a beeline across metres of opulent carpet towards the chair in front of his desk.
“Over there I mean,” he said, when I’d almost reached him, pointing to the couch by the wall.
He was smiling at me, a genuine sort of smile.
“Ok, sure,” I said, beaming back.
Clearly I wasn’t in any trouble. I’d been a mixture of nerves and excitement after getting the call. Now I was just excited.
I’d had hardly a glimpse of Mr Rose in the months I’ve spent on the premises. Nothing unusual there. Plenty of people who have worked there a lot longer than me have never actually met him. The guy is a legend and his elusiveness is a part of it.
Now here was little old me, junior trainee in her first proper job, standing right slap bang in his office.
Just the two of us!
I turned and sauntered towards the couch, guessing that Mr Rose was grabbing the opportunity to admire my butt. He was a middle aged man after all, boss or not, and those types can’t stop themselves ogling when it comes to pretty young girls.
Fine by me.
I’m aware of how desirable I am and I enjoy the effect I have on the male of the species. I didn’t mind one bit if he was looking. Would be deeply disappointing if he wasn’t. I injected a little extra sway and wiggle into my walk.
I’m such a player!
I am, really.
Like the skirts I wear to the office. Don’t get me wrong, they’re professional and all, not talking slutty. But they are always snug and several inches above the knee. I know exactly how alluring my slinky legs and pert little ass look in these skirts. That’s why I wear them.
Not to mention the sassy tops. Sometimes I wear a bra, often I don’t. Just depends on my mood, how brazen and sexy I feel that day.
I suppose it’s too much for the workplace, but I don’t care a hoot. When a girl is exceedingly pretty it lends heaps of self confidence and, blessed with a bod like mine, it would be a shame not to show it off.
Least that’s my take on the matter
Certainly has the desired effect on male colleagues. Especially the ones on my floor. There are other females down there but none of them are a hottie like me. I have the field to myself, only show in town, and I make the most of it. I’ve been driving the guys beserk since the day I started.
Poor things are forever fighting over me, trying to impress. Every last one of them would strangle their own granny to get into my knickers. Don’t have the remotest chance, needless to say, bunch of dumb losers. But it’s fun to toy with them all, sashay around the place dressed to inflame and feed their hopeless fantasies, tease and tantalize the saps with what they yearn for but can’t have. I get such a buzz out of it.
I also like how I make the women at the office, mainly unattractive old bats, sick with envy. You should see the daggered looks I get from some of these miserable cows when I’m sat there with a bunch of men hovering around, all battling for a tiny bit of my attention. Talk about jealous.
As for the men, it’s a safe bet that most of them aren’t getting any at home. The frustration when they lust at me is palpable, which only makes it more amusing to torture them like I do.
The idea of all these sad saps wanting me so bad, no doubt wanking themselves silly over me in their private moments, it lights me up no end, really gets me going. And my current boyfriend reaps the benefit.
Boyfriend?
Well, yes and no.
I’ve hooked myself this rich older guy called Jason who showers me with money and presents in return for, well you know! And boy does Jason get full value.
We get together a couple of evenings a week in the luxury condo he rents for me, going at it like rabbits while wifey thinks he’s working late.
We laugh about it, Jase and I, how poor Mrs J is probably about to start on a solo TV dinner at more or less the same time as her hubby is ten miles across town and sliding his grateful dick in between my lissom legs for one last leisurely fuck.
As we’re doing it, he grunts about how fabulous it feels to be with gorgeous nubile young me, rather than the clapped out old bag he’s married to.
I love hearing him talk like that.
I tell him sexy stuff too. Like, I regale him with stories of how I torment all these men at my work, and Jase, oh my god, he laps that up. It makes him very horny, hearing what a little cocktease I am. Reckon it turns him on as much as it does me.
It’s a sort of foreplay. We’ll be in bed together and I’ll start whispering stuff to him, like how I’ve been persecuting hapless nerdy Martin, my stupid supervisor, perching cross-legged on his desk for little chats, dangling a pair of bare silky thighs under his nose, or bending over next to him, maliciously flaunting my sumptuous cleavage in his deprived sweaty face. And, as I’m giggling these salacious tales into his ear, I’ll be stroking my benefactor’s fat generous cock, priming him, getting him nice and hard and ready to plunge like a crazy man into my tight, glistening pussy.
So I settled myself on this couch in Mr Rose’s office and looked across at him expectantly, figuring I ought to stay quiet until I knew for sure what this was about.
I had an inkling. I may be only nineteen but I’m far from naive when it comes to men. However, I thought it best that he make the running.
Hoped my intuition was right. Loved the idea of the big boss man seducing me at work.
Should I give the guy a little encouragement?
Yes, why not. I was feeling horny. Boyfriend’s ‘visits’ have been tailing off recently, wife getting antsy about his absences he says, and I’ve been contemplating alternative sources of entertainment.
I lent back and made a production of crossing my legs in my short skirt, providing Mr Rose with a teasy little show. It hit the spot. He watched intently, ogling and not even bothering to pretend he wasn’t. Guess when you’re the boss you can do that.
As for me, I liked how he was letching. The frank appraisal combined with the macho self assurance, it was such a turn on.
Mr Rose buzzed through to his secretary. ‘No interruptions, Janice, okay?’
He removed his jacket and got up from his desk and came towards the couch area. Seconds later he was looming over me.
“So, Emily, how’s it going?”
I smiled and shrugged. “Oh, you know, Monday mornings.”
“Tell me about it. Hey, gotta say, you look even better than your photo.”
Wow! I’m used to compliments from men but this one it took me by surprise. Wasn’t sure quite what he meant.
“Photo?”
“The one on the HR system.”
“Okay. Checked me out, have you?” I said, flirting.
He grinned. “Have, honey, yeah.”
Any last shred of doubt as to why the boss had invited me to this tete-a-tete was removed by the way he was gazing at me. The longing was etched across his face.
I grinned up at him, basking, enjoying the power rush I always get when I know a man wants me. Even more so when that man is the CEO of the company I work at and he wants me so much that he’s arranged for us to be alone in his office at ten on a Monday morning.
Normally, when I’ve decided to put out, I still play hard to get.
He could fire me, just like that, if I pissed him off and I didn’t want that to happen. I like working at Rose.
So I decided to go with the flow. Take my cues from him. Whatever he had in mind was more than ok by me. What he had in mind soon became clear.
He removed his tie and tossed it aside. “Mind if I join you?”
I patted the cushion next to me. “Sure,” I pouted.
He settled in close and casually rested his arm along the sofa behind me, his hand squeezing my shoulder. His other hand went to my thigh and started stroking.
Quick worker!
I giggled. The sort of insinuating giggle that told Mr Rose I was totally cool with what he was doing. That I liked it and he could do plenty more if he wanted.
I was sure he did want to do plenty more. So did I. I was loving the situation, could feel the tingle in my belly, the warm damp between my legs.
He nuzzled at my neck, hands on the move, breathing becoming heavy.
A lusty rumble of delight at discovering I was braless.
“You are one sexy girl, Emily, you know that?”
He was inside my top, fondling a breast, other hand exploring beneath my skirt.
I giggled again. “Maybe I do.”
I squirmed around, opening my thighs to make it easy for Mr Rose to get his hand up there. He obliged, started to probe with strong, skilful fingers through the sheer silk of my sopping panties.
It was heavenly. I was panting now. Bitch on heat. And I was so fucking wet.
“Do you want it here and now, baby?” he said. “Just gagging for some cock, aren’t you?”
Neither question needed an answer.
I slipped my hand into his lap, happy to feel a raging erection through his pants, and set about kneading the bulge.
“Not the only one who wants it, Mr Rose, am I?” I teased.
“So formal you are.” Teasing me back!
“Well you are my boss,” I said. “Aren’t you, Mr Rose?”
“I am, sugar, yes.”
I unzipped him and freed his throbbing veiny cock. “So big and hard!” I purred. I licked my lips and grinned meaningfully. I felt like taking charge.
Boss got the message and sat back on the couch, ready to receive.
Not so fast though. First I got up and stood in front of him and treated him to a striptease.
“No, no playing with yourself, just watch,” I commanded, as I got into my performance. “That cock belongs to me.”
Mr Rose grinned ruefully and obeyed. He sat there, dick protruding long and proud, and watched me undress for him. I took my time, relishing the hunger in his eyes as he watched my every move. A need so intense he was drowning in it.
He was mesmerized and bewitched, gorging on the spectacle of my delicious body being revealed in all its feminine glory, a body he was about to possess.
Oh my god I was loving this. There’s an enormous erotic power that comes from being a beautiful sexy girl and, at this moment, I was revelling in it. Wanted to savour and prolong things as long as possible.
Down to my panties, I stopped and struck a sex kitten pose.
“You like what you’re seeing, Mr Rose?” I pouted, almost taunting the poor man.
“Fuck, yeah!”
His voice was strangled. Guy could barely speak!
I grinned. “Wanna see the whole package?”
“You bet I do.”
“So I’ll take these panties off, will I?”
“Oh yeah!”
“How about a please?”
“Please, Emily baby, please take those fucking panties off. Please please please.”
“Okay, that was nice. Panties off.”
I smirked at him. Then I oh so slowly slipped my panties down over my hips and thighs. I let them fall to the floor and stepped out of them.
I flipped around and showed him my ass, then I got down on all fours and I crawled naked to him, put my head in his lap and took his cock into my mouth. I licked and sucked and kissed and nibbled, took him to heaven’s gate over and over again, each time stopping when I sensed he was approaching a point of no return.
I was merciless. I teased his cock like a top dollar whore until, eventually, he could take no more.
“Enough!” he snarled.
He yanked my head up and threw me on the carpet. Then he took me.
He rammed his cruelly teased and rigid cock into my slick greedy pussy and started pumping. He kept on and on, both of us moaning mindlessly, until finally we came together, an orgasmic burst of sheer sexual ecstasy.
It was a great fuck. Shatteringly satisfying.
The best I’ve ever had.
It was for him too. I know that because he told me. He told me as we were lying there in post coital bliss on his office carpet. More exciting, he said, doing it at work. And I had to agree.
“Sure your boyfriend won’t mind?” he kidded.
“Me fucking the boss at work?”
I was ultra relaxed now. Knew I could say or do anything and he wouldn’t mind.
“Exactly,” grinned Mr Rose.
“Should I ask him?”
“Yes, Em, why don’t you do that.”
“Honey, you don’t mind if I fuck the boss in his office, do you?”
He gave a little chuckle before replying. “No, baby, I don’t. I think you ought to fuck the boss every single chance you get. I’ll go further. I damn well insist that you do. How’s that?”
“Crystal clear.”
“Good.”
“Seriously though, Jase, I thought we’d said to keep things separate. Not mix business with pleasure.”
He nodded. “And it’s been great. But thing is, baby, it really is getting difficult now. Like, how many times have I managed to see you in the last month?”
“Twice.”
“Quite.”
He told me that it wasn’t enough for him. He was finding himself thinking about me all the time. It was affecting his performance as CEO. He needed me ‘on tap.’
Therefore, the only viable solution was for us to start fucking on a regular basis here in his office.
“Ok honey, sure,” I said. It was all music to my ears!
“But what about people knowing?” I asked him. “Wasn’t that a problem?”
Not really, Jason assured me. People wouldn’t know if we were careful. He’d given it some thought, how we could manage things.
Rather than the slightly disconcerting formal summons via his secretary that I’d received today, I’d get a personal text from him saying that he ‘wanted’ me, could I leave my desk and join him. I’d assess the scene down where I was and I’d reply ‘yes’ and make the trip up to the top floor if I reckoned I could do it without raising a whole lot of eyebrows.
Otherwise I’d text back ‘no’.
His secretary would know, obviously, but Janice could keep secrets. That was a big part of her job. She’d worked for Jason forever. Totally loyal. He’d trust Jan with his life, he told me.
As for other people guessing, the ones I worked with, his senior colleagues, first of all guessing isn’t knowing, and second he wouldn’t be fussed even if they did have their suspicions.
What about me? he wanted to know. Was I worried about it?
“Not at all,” I said.
Totally true. I’d quite like the whole company to know I was screwing the CEO! Although I didn’t tell Jason that. I promised him that I’d be careful.
The truth was, I didn’t envisage me sending many ‘no’ texts.