“Don’t dip your pen in company ink,” is just one of many, and by no means the most vulgar, phrases warning of the danger of becoming romantically or sexually involved with work colleagues. I’ve managed to heed this sensible advice most of my career. Though to be honest, as a straight man working in engineering, the temptations have been relatively few.
The international consultancy where I spent many years was no exception. The partners and upper management were exclusively male, and most of the women were outside my division, typically in the biological or consumer sectors. For that reason, and many others, Daphne was an exception.
Young, vibrant and whip-smart, it was always obvious when Daphne was in the room. However, her perceived presence much outweighed her physical one. She was as thin as a rail with skinny legs and a flat chest. The only curves on her body were the slight flare of her hips which gave the suggestion of a firm and well-toned derrière. She had a feline grace and an energy that pervaded the air around her.
Daphne moved to the UK from the Netherlands to pursue a Master’s degree in Material Science and was recruited by my firm at the completion of her course. Her contrast to the stereotypical image of a curvy blonde Dutch woman was to be found not only in her body shape, but also in her brunette locks which cascaded down to the small of her back. One couldn’t look at Daphne without being impressed by such thick and luscious hair. As a balding middle-aged man, I had no idea what “volumizing” meant in relation to shampoo until I met Daphne. Painting her in silhouette would require as much ink for her mane as for the rest of her.
It’s a sad fact many women found it uncomfortable/ intimidating working in my firm’s male-dominated environment. However, if Daphne did, she never let it show. Instead, she seemed delighted at standing out and used her powers to her advantage.
In a sea of chinos and Marks and Spencer shirts, Daphe’s fashion choices were incongruous on many levels. While technically meeting the standards of “professional office wear”, Daphne sported the shortest imaginable skirts and favoured sheer fabrics for her blouses. Her small, almost non-existent breasts didn’t require a bra for support, so she nearly always went without, as was evident by her protruding nipples.
More than once I witnessed a client squirm when realising that the breasts they’d been ogling were connected to a brain that contained more knowledge about 2D electron gases than any other in the room. Daphne was typically Dutch in that she could speak five languages – and embarrass men in all of them.
Daphne’s provocative dress and flirty demeanour quite predictably fed the firm’s rumour mill. There were multiple purported liaisons with colleagues across the firm and at all levels, but nothing was ever substantiated. The strongest suspicions related to Patricio, a young, rather chiseled looking Spaniard within our team. One could see the case for credibility as Patricio was tall and athletic, having apparently played semi-professional football in Spain’s lower leagues. On top of that he was incredibly clever, charming and was obviously a rising star in the firm. Despite his having a stunning, “influencer” fiancé, the prurient speculations moved into overdrive when he and Daphne were working side by side on a project involving extended business trips to Portugal.
**********
Each November various industry associations hold black-tie awards ceremonies. These events are ostensibly to recognize the stand-out engineering or consulting projects completed in the previous twelve months. As luck would have it, one year my firm was in the running for awards in three categories, and one of the projects I led was among the nominees. Our PR team splashed out providing both sponsorship money and purchasing three tables for our teams to attend. Cynically, there seemed to be a high degree of correlation between funding these events and winning prizes so our odds seemed good.
I was looking forward to attending, not so much for the chance to claim a cheap plaque and shake hands with whichever minor celebrity was to be emcee, but because I was to be at the same table as Alastair, an influential Partner in the firm. Having the opportunity to talk up the project and reinforce my part in it could only help in my quest for a promotion.
When dinner was called, I was one of the first to wander over from the drinks reception and take a seat. A friend in the PR team had arranged for me to sit next to Alastair, and I was pleased to see his name card to the left of mine on the table. I turned to speak to the colleague on my right, and when I turned back, instead of a bearded Scotsman in a kilt, blazer and bow tie, I found Daphne in a stunning blue sequined gown. She chuckled as I did a double-take.
“Not what you were expecting?” she asked.
“Uh..uh… not really, no. Alastair’s not the sequins type,” I said with a sad attempt at humour.
“That I couldn’t comment on,” she said with a grin. “What I do know is that he’s had to make a last-minute trip to a client site in France – damage control on Project Tiber, apparently. Amy, his admin, asked all of us juniors if we were available to step in, and I responded first.”
I was aware of, but thankfully not involved in Project Tiber, a rather tricky piece of work for one of the firm’s key clients. Alastair was very good at managing relationships so it was understandable why he might be called in to keep the client happy. However, his absence left me without an audience for a few well-rehearsed bits of personal PR so I was crestfallen.
Picking up on my disheartened state, Daphne gave my thigh a quick slap and said, “Don’t worry, I promise I’ll be good company.”
The meal was just the sort of unremarkable fare that suits hotel ballrooms fitted with garish carpeting and outdated lighting, but we weren’t there for the grub. As the keynote speaker wrapped up with a few motivational insights, the tension was building. Finally, the award winners were to be announced.
Sadly, we lost. My project managed a mention as a “runner up”, but we were all left disappointed. Some clever soul decided to order several more bottles of wine to cheer us all up. I’d started the evening with high hopes and an expectation of being both well-behaved and guarded around Alastair. The atmosphere had shifted so I poured myself a large glass and turned to offer Daphne a top-up.
As I was filling her glass, she remarked, “Looks like none of us are getting lucky tonight,” which rattled me enough that I spilled some wine onto the tablecloth.
“Why are you chuckling, Jack? Did I say something funny?”
“Your English idioms are very good, Daphne, but I think you’ve inadvertently made it sound like none of us are going to have sex tonight,” I explained.
Daphne looked a little sheepish, but then said, “Well, I suppose it’s still true.”
By then I’d had enough wine to wade into dangerous waters.
“For me maybe, but someone as attractive as you could have the pick of anyone here,” I responded and immediately thought better of it.
To my relief, Daphne didn’t seem to find my comment creepy.
“Perhaps, but I wouldn’t. I’ve got a boyfriend,” she confided. Registering my surprise, she added, “I’ve not mentioned him to anyone as it isn’t their business… and they’ll never meet him, anyway.”
She went on to explain that she’d met David in graduate school and that he had to move back to his native New Zealand after finishing his degree. They’d been trying to maintain a long-distance relationship ever since.
I responded by telling her that my wife and I had to spend a few years apart when I moved back to the US following my undergraduate studies. The distance wasn’t as great as in her case, but in those days, communications involved letters, the occasional phone call and, latterly, basic email.
“Well, it’s good to know that things worked out for you in the end. Maybe you’ll be the one of us who gets lucky tonight.”
That’s really where I should have stopped the conversation, but I bumbled on, “Well, I’m lucky on one count. Charlotte is a wonderful woman, but I don’t ‘get lucky’ much these days. In fact, very rarely at all.”
“Really? When David and I are together, we can’t keep our hands off each other. It’s painful being apart from someone you’ve given your whole self to.”
“I’m afraid that’s where I can’t relate. My wife shows no interest in even minor displays of affection. I miss it, I really do.”
Daphne leaned forward and looked at me with genuine interest and concern in her eyes. My words tumbled out in a rush as if a cork had been released and I finally, shamefully, had someone to explain all my frustrations to. To her credit, Daphne listened and empathized.
“Have you ever thought about leaving?”
“I have, but it would be devastating for my sons. I’ve simply had to find release elsewhere.”
“You’ve cheated on your wife?”
“Sadly, I have. I wish things were otherwise and that I could find sexual interest or any physical contact at home. It can be many weeks without even a peck on the cheek.”
“Who have you cheated with?”
“The odd opportunity comes up, not as much as it used to, but I did have a regular mistress for a while,” I confessed, something I had never done to anyone else before.
“Do you feel guilty?”
“Of course I do, but I reached my mid-forties and realized that ‘the pipes still work’ and I didn’t know for how much longer. I don’t need a blue pill, and I can still get off three or four times a night. A sleepover with my mistress would be the equivalent of six months with my wife. Besides the sex, I missed even having a good snog.”
“Aren’t you afraid you’ll catch something and give it to your wife?” she asked.
“Well, I try to play safe as much as possible and get tested when I’m with someone new. Besides, we use condoms at home. We only have sex about a dozen times a year and never oral so the risk is low.”
“You’re married and still use condoms?”
“Yeah. I’ve never been comfortable getting snipped. Charlotte was on the pill for a bit, but it made her emotions go crazy. So yes, for more than a decade, we’ve been using condoms. At least I don’t have to face the chemist that often, a 12-pack lasts about a year.”
Daphne greeted all of these admissions with a morbid fascination. I was grateful for her hesitation to judge and for the opportunity to explain myself. It seemed like the first real conversation I’d had in months, if not years. My head was spinning, and I had no idea where to take things next.
That’s when Daphne grabbed my hands and said, “Well, we can count our sorrows or we can dance,” as she led me out into the crowd of those who’d chosen to stay for the disco portion of the evening.
I’ve never been a great dancer, but alcohol helps me to forgive my own shortcomings. Being many glasses of wine deep, I did my best, really not caring if anyone was watching. Daphne and I found some familiar faces in the crowd and managed to work off some of the evening’s disappointments. When a slow number came on, I was shocked to feel a sequined presence pressed into me.
Reminding myself of our relative positions and the fact that we were on display in front of colleagues, I made huge efforts to keep my hands planted well within the ‘safety zone’ between Daphne’s waist and ribcage. She didn’t seem bothered with a public display or with the effect it was having on me. Nearing the end of the song, I was sure she could feel my rising erection pressing into her thigh.
Taking the opportunity to release her as a fast number came on, I dipped back to the table to grab a glass of water and collect my thoughts. As much as I desired Daphne, my career and marriage were too much to put at stake. I made a firm decision to extricate myself from the situation.
I marched back to the dance floor and offered my goodbyes to the crowd. Turning to leave, I was met by Daphne’s impressive mass of curly black hair and her gyrating behind. Backing into me, she kept on with her swaying motions, pressing into my crotch, and it was all I could do to keep from grabbing her and taking her to a dark corner to ravage her.
On the taxi ride home, I resolved not to think about the evening’s consequences until I was in a fitter state of mind.
********
My heart was fluttering with anxiety as I entered the office the following Monday morning. To my relief, there didn’t seem to be any difference in the manner with which my colleagues greeted me, Daphne included. Was I safe? Was HR going to ring with a request to see me? Was I over thinking things?
As the week rolled on, I came to the conclusion, that Daphne must have kept my confessions in confidence and that one slow dance with a colleague does not a scandal make.
In the run up to Christmas and the end of the firm’s financial year, we were under pressure to complete (and invoice for) our projects. The lone project Daphne and I were involved in required a wrap up meeting at the client’s site in Switzerland. She and I were to attend in person, spending two days and one night.
As we prepared for the trip, I made extra efforts to appear professional and not to linger in Daphne’s presence any longer than necessary.
We arrived in Zurich without incident and without any chat concerning matters other than the project. The meeting with the client went surprisingly well, and there was even a discussion of a follow-on piece of work. We were, however, expected to attend a dinner with the client in the evening, and I took great pains to limit my wine intake to two glasses. I even managed not to ogle Daphne despite her wearing a tight-fitting black dress with spaghetti straps and an almost shockingly short hemline.
Daphne and I were in reasonably high spirits as we returned to our hotel. It was a bit after 10:00 in the evening, and I was looking forward to saying a professional ‘goodnight’ and retiring to my own room.
“Jack, can I get a few moments with you in private?” my heart sunk at those words.
Here it comes, the recriminations, perhaps even a bit of extortion, I thought.
“Sure, it looks like there are a couple of tables free in the bar, shall we order a drink?”
“Mmm… I think a bit more privacy might be better. Would you mind if we took this to my room?”
Fuck, I thought. She’s got me. I can’t say no, because it could be something important, but if I say yes, she could snare me for good, even just for being in her room.
I hesitated, but agreed, “Oh… oh… OK, if it’s that important.”
The ride in the lift seemed to progress at a glacial pace, and Daphne spent the entire time tapping away on her phone, giving me no indication of what she needed to tell me. Of course, her room was at the far end of the corridor, the walk prolonging my suffering. Having come down from my good mood, I was exhausted and on the brink of defeat. I just wanted to get the conversation over with.
I was therefore completely unprepared for what happened next.
As we entered Daphne’s room, she quickly ran to the laptop that was open on the desk. With a few keystrokes she logged into a video call and the screen showed the wide, grinning face of a tan, square-jawed man who appeared to be in his mid-twenties.
“Hi, babe” he said, his Kiwi accent giving him away as David, Daphne’s beau.
“Hey, sweetie, are you ready? Still have time?” she replied.
“You bet. I’ve taken the morning off work, but I do have a call at noon, so we’d better get started.”
I was standing, transfixed and out of shot of the camera when Daphne approached me and whispered, “Go along with this, and you’ll have a VERY good time.”
At that she went back to the laptop and adjusted the camera angle to be lower. She then beckoned me into the frame so that I was in profile from the waist down.
She looked at me, gave a wicked smile and knelt before me.
Turning to the camera with a grin, she said, “Let’s do this, babe.”
Daphne slowly pulled down the fly on my trousers and hungrily reached in. Rooting around, her hand eventually made contact with my cock, sending a jolt through both of us. She deftly maneuvered it out of the hole, releasing it from its cotton constraints. There she knelt, with her diminutive hand wrapped around my throbbing member.
“Oooh… go on, babe… suck my cock,” David said.
HIS cock? What was he on about, but then why should I care what he calls it, as long as it’s mine she sucks?
Daphne’s soft, supple lips slowly and gingerly slid over my swollen glans. She began moving her head ever so gently forward and back, while simultaneously lapping at it with her tongue beneath.
The sensation was incredible and my pleasure ramped up with her increasing tempo.
“That looks amazing, babe, but don’t forget my balls,” David said – a man after my own heart.
Following his instruction, Daphne let my dick slip from her mouth, and with her left hand tilted it upward, exposing my heavy, dangling testicles. I soon felt Daphne’s nose at the base of my cock and then her tongue sweeping my balls into her warm, wet mouth. She stroked my shaft slowly as she swirled her tongue around and slurped on my balls. It was bliss.
“I love how you are so into sucking cock, babe. Show me how much you enjoy it,” came from the screen.
Returning her mouth to my member, Daphne used her right hand, which was nearer to the camera to slide the straps down on her dress, exposing her bra-less breasts. Her areolas were tiny, sitting on the barest hind of a breast, but her nipples were extraordinary. Both projected at least two centimeters. Their visible tightness betrayed her excitement.
She began to caress each nipple in turn, then let her hand dip to her crotch. My eyes widened as I saw her hike up the hem of her dress revealing the tops of her stockings and the sexy black suspenders holding them up. Her hand continued trailing upward until she exposed the crotch of her black, lace knickers and began to rub her pussy through them.
I wasn’t sure how much longer I could last so I was relieved to hear David say, “Babe, I’m close, but I can’t decide if I should cum in your mouth or on your tits.”
The thought of either possibility would have been enough to send me over the edge. Both together sent me hurtling with force. I came in buckets.
Daphne never loosened the force of her suction and attempted to take my entire load. However, it’d been too long for me since any sexual encounter as exciting as this and it was too much for her. To her credit, most of my load remained in her mouth, but streams dribbled down both sides of her crooked smile and landed on her chest.
She swallowed. Then as she rubbed the globs of white spunk into her tits, giggled, “Looks like you got both.”
I was weak at the knees and light in the head for some moments. Apparently so was David, because it was Daphne who spoke next.
“Now it’s my turn,” she said as she pushed me backwards and down onto the bed. Her hair cascaded over me as she whispered, “Stay low.”
I flattened myself as best I could while Daphne adjusted the camera. From what I could see of the screen, just my nose, chin and cock were visible in profile above the horizon of the bed.
Daphne shuffled off her dress and quickly shed her knickers, revealing a full, dark bush – an analogue to the amazing curls she sported above. It was beautifully framed by her garter belt and suspenders. My cock twitched taking in the sight.
Finding his voice, David said, “Yeah, babe. Let me eat that gorgeous pussy of yours. Ride my face like there is no tomorrow.”
With advance warning of what was coming, I braced myself as Daphne straddled my chest, then inched forward brandishing her dark, hairy mass. I felt the tickle of fur on my chin just as the musky scent of an engorged pussy hit my nostrils. Ready for action, I extended my tongue and got my first taste of Daphne’s sweet pussy. Her outer labia parted and her wetness dribbled into my mouth as she knelt above me.
She began moving her hips in long, slow arcs allowing me to lick from her perineum to her distended clit. Her silk-clad thighs pressed against my cheeks and I lost sense of everything but her hot, wet core and the tickle of her pubic hair across my cheeks. I thought David might be saying something, but my ears were muffled by Daphne’s taught thighs.
All I could do was work to please the beast on my face. I licked, I sucked, I kissed and I devoured. Moments later I felt Daphne’s thighs clamp even more tightly and sensed a spasm running through her. She collapsed forward onto the headboard then spun around and lay atop me with her cheek next to my awakening cock. Her pelvis was level with my shoulders, and her open thighs revealed a swollen, dripping pussy. I drank in eyefuls of her lovely lips and her puckered rosebud which winked at me as she breathed.
“Fuck, babe. It looked like you enjoyed that.”
Daphne, nodded in speechless agreement.
We all took a few moments for a breather. As my thoughts turned to the ridiculousness of the situation, I felt Daphne nuzzle my cock.
“That’s it babe. You know your second orgasm is always better than the first. Let’s see you ride to a big one.”
Finding new strength, Daphne raised her head and began running her lips up and down the side of my rod. I was soon at full mast again, and she wasted no time turning me ninety degrees on the bed then climbing aboard in cowgirl position.
She teased the head of my cock by running it through her lush bush and tapping in on her clit as few times. She finally slid her lips over my swollen head and my next sensation was of a hot, vice-like grip from the velvet walls of her pussy. I could only see her front but could tell that David was getting a wonderful view of her ass as she slid up and down on my stiff rod.
Daphne leant forward, her cascading hair tenting us together in a warm intimate space. She smiled, and purred at me, “Suck my nipples.”
I raised my head as she bent further and my lips engaged with the swollen nub on her left, then the right. They were positively vibrating with excitement, and she began to ride me faster. Her skinny thighs were clearly built for endurance as well as power.
“Ohh, babe, that looks so fucking hot. I can see you creaming on my cock, and your tight ass looks so sexy rocking up and down.”
After a few more strokes, Daphne leant further forward allowing my shaft to pop out from the warm embrace of her pussy lips. Just as the cool air struck my cock, I felt Daphne’s hand grasp it and slide it between her cheeks. She slid up and down on it twice then expertly allowed it to penetrate her ass.
David gave a loud guffaw and said, “Good girl. You are feeling dirty tonight.”
If Daphne’s pussy was tight, her ass was amazingly more so, but it only took a few rocking motions for her to sink onto my entire length. Her pert ass cheeks resting between my thighs felt incredible.
Directing the question to David, Daphne asked, “Babe, you know what I like when I ride cock like this, don’t you?”
He replied, “You know it, babe. Are you ready?”
“Mmmm… just a sec… okay, let’s go for it. Rub my clit with your thumb. Do it in circles until it drives me mad.”
As Daphne increased the pace of her riding, I followed the instructions she’d given to David. I placed my right hand flat across the front of her waistline and began rubbing circles clockwise around her swollen clit with my thumb. Her bucking became frantic, and her sphincter clenched my cock. A low rumbling sound gestated in her chest and emerged as a gurgling then a hiss. I thought she might break my cock off at the base as she bucked wildly until an unearthly shriek filled the room. The sensation was too much for me, and I felt my cock throb as I released a load into Daphne’s quivering ass.
Collapsing forward onto my chest, Daphne and I were caught in the great tangled mass of her hair. I couldn’t see her face, but I could hear her breathing which was punctuated by an occasion soft squeak of satisfaction.
My cock remained in her ass until it deflated and popped out on its own accord. Moments later I could feel my spunk dribbling out of her rectum and onto my thigh. I raised my head to look at the computer and saw that David had logged off.
Daphne eventually roused herself. Sweeping her hair aside, she flopped to my side, and I held her tucked under my right arm.
We dozed for a bit and awoke in the same position. Turning my head, I met her smiling gaze.
“Good, eh?” was all she could say.
“Very, good,” I replied.
After some time, I worked up the courage say, “I don’t mean to look a gift horse in the mouth, but why me?”
Daphne explained that she and David had been looking for a suitable playmate for nearly as long as she’d been working for our firm. They’d established a strict set of criteria.
“I would have thought someone like Patricio might have been a better candidate.”
Daphne, laughed. “Yes, he’s attractive, but he didn’t fit the… ah… size requirement.”
“Good to hear. He’s got so much going for him, that it’s only fair that he has a small cock to compensate.”
Daphne giggled. “No, it’s the opposite. He’s way too large. I made sure we got to spend time at the hotel pool in Porto. I could tell from his swimsuit that he’s hung like a horse. Besides, he’s got a fiancé who he says wears him out.”
“Lucky bastard. So why me, then?”
“Well, you have the right package and you can get it up, which I worked out on the dance floor last month.”
“That was intentional? You had me so worked up, I could have grabbed you there and then.”
“Yes, but if you had, you wouldn’t be here now. Respect for boundaries is another key criterion. Along with that, we wanted someone who took testing for STIs seriously and who could get it up multiple times. Besides that, I also felt a bit sorry for you.”
“So this was in part a sympathy fuck?”, I asked.
When she agreed, I said, “Well it beats a card any day.”
“Also, your love of stockings sealed the deal.”
“What? How did you know?”
“I’m friendly with Ben in IT. I asked him to check your internet history just to make sure you weren’t into anything too ‘out there’. All he could find were some fairly tame images of women in sexy stockings.” Motioning to her legs, she continued, “David goes crazy when I wear this. I thought you would too.”
She was right. I do love seeing women in stockings, and I made a mental note to be more careful clearing my browser history.
As we were talking, Daphne let her right hand wander aimlessly over my body. She ran her fingers through my chest hair and stroked the top of my thigh. Eventually her fingers combed through my pubic hair, causing my cock to jump.
“Mmmm… still able to have a go, eh?” she purred. “I won’t fuck or suck you without David watching, but I can still give you a little something special,” she cooed as her fingers wrapped around my shaft.
She scooched upward along my body and began to place soft delicate kisses on my neck. The sap in my cock was definitely rising. I could feel the damp mass of her bush pressed into my thigh as she curled around me.
I lay passively, letting her take complete control of her motions. She clearly knew what she was doing and how to bring a man to climax.
Her hand released its grip on my member and found its way to her cunt where she dipped in for lubrication. Her slick digits traced under my nose and across my lips, then enveloped my cock in a slick, warm embrace. Her strokes were varied and well timed, bringing me to the brink several times. When I knew I couldn’t take it any more she whispered, “Cum for me,” and nibbled my earlobe sending me over the edge.
I shot spurts of cum over her hand and onto my stomach, causing Daphne to giggle once again. She seemed very pleased with herself.
Frankly, I was pleased with her too.
We cuddled a bit longer, then I got up, dressed and returned to my room for the night.
Entering the restaurant for breakfast the next morning, I spied Daphne sitting at a table for two in the corner. She smiled up at me as I pulled back the chair across from her.
“Daphne… last night was fun, but we need to…it’s important that we…,” I was lost trying to find the right words to make sure we didn’t put our (and particularly my) standing with the firm at risk.
“Jack, you don’t need to worry. I’m planning to hand in my resignation first thing in the new year.”
“What? Not because of…”
“No, of course not. I’ve been offered a job in Dubai. It pays more and is a bit closer to New Zealand. It also looks like there could be a role for David there as well. By the time he serves out his notice period, sorts his affairs and gets his visa, it looks like we could be together by May.”
“I’m very happy for you, Daph. Judging by last night, you two really have something special together.”
I was in fact happy for her. It was difficult seeing a couple with such passion for each other be so far apart, particularly when I had the opposite problem. My wife and I were in the same place, but had no passion at all.
I guess no one can have everything – except Patricio, that lucky bastard.
