NC-17
M/M, F
***
Kaley has to wonder sometimes if being independently wealthy would be just as boring as this. Today has included the longest meeting ever recorded about nothing (by her, on a laptop with a barely functional S key), a completely unnecessary conversation with a co-worker about a child’s toilet training, 23.5 emails confirming things that had already been confirmed and coverage of more people’s phones than she could count. She’s no stranger to work, she’s willing to do nearly anything, but this one, somehow, seems to be the most boring one ever.
At 2:30 there’s a meeting called for nearly everyone but her. That’s enough to make a girl believe in intelligent design. Suddenly the hallway is free of idle chatter (“Kaley? My kid wants those in green, not blue. We have to find the green!”) and prying eyes (“Oooo, shopping? If you see any deals on Lucky Jeans, size 14, let me know!”). It’s just her and Brenda, the temp working on a data entry project. She figures she has at least half an hour, perhaps even forty-five minutes given the chatterbox who’s chairing this thing. It takes 10 minutes to clear her email inbox and 7 to return phone calls. Sure, there are plenty of things she could be doing to get ahead on her responsibilities but, frankly, she just doesn’t have it in her. They’ll still be there when the meeting is over and if she polishes them off someone will only give her more. Why be efficient when things are going to go that way?
There has been talk of getting a proper IT professional into the office. It’s revolved around the relative benefits of having someone to reboot printers, clean trackballs and hit Control + Alt + Delete mostly. Of course someone brought up the question of spyware. She wasn’t worried about it cutting back on her cutthroat Ebay auction participation. A ‘bot couldn’t tell the difference between shopping for a bigwig’s child’s latest desire and her own need for waterproof boots in a daisy pattern. It probably would happen but, flying spaghetti monster-willing, not until after she had moved on to greener cubicles. Because at times like this she liked to read smut at work.
It had been an accident, really. One minute she was, as a guilty pleasure, perusing the latest gossip on a particularly fit teen idol. The next she hit a link and there it was. Fanfiction. Some of it was terrible. Some of it was surprisingly good. Most of the good stuff was pretty darned steamy! She spent approximately half an hour wondering if the actors in question would be creeped out by depictions of them slathering each other with honey or dropping trou in famous museums. Then someone called her and asked her to come down the hall and clean the wax out of The Boss’s hearing aids and she decided it didn’t matter.
Yesterday she’d been halfway through the first part of a fic where the rogueish sidekick seduced the hero in a dorm room and introduced him to the finer points of being second banana, if you will. That had been another revelation. She hadn’t expected the male on male stories, slash fic they were called, to be so intriguing and arousing. It made sense, though. She was a fan of penises and what they could do so in this case, the more the merrier! Just as she was getting to the penisy parts her phone rang. It was the receptionist with a mystery caller wondering if she could handle it. She could and she spent the next 49 minutes of her day being called a liar, cheat, racist, insidious underminer of American values by a lovely old lady from Arkansas who’d just read something on “The Google” about The Boss.
So today she was determined to give herself the gift of finishing that story. She deserved it and she had the receipt in her pending file for someone else’s colonoscopy prep supplies to prove it.
This particular story was by one of the better writers, a young woman getting her degree in Ancient History in New Zealand. Kaley slipped back into the narrative just as that sidekick was running a finger along the seam of the hero’s jeans. Soon tongues were wrestling and bedside hand lotion was being liberally applied to hastily donned condoms. She squirmed self-consciously in her swivel chair as the hero was pressed, firmly but lovingly, face down on a squeaky dorm-issue bed. She glanced nervously behind her when the rogue’s steel-hard cock pressed for entrance and she nearly jumped out of her seat when the phone rang.
One ring and a hang up.
And her heart was still pounding.
She felt self-consciously squishy in her sensible cotton panties.
“Hey Brenda?”
“Yeah Kale?” Brenda replied without looking away from her spreadsheets.
“I’m going to scoot to the ladies’ if anyone asks. OK?”
“Sure thing. Don’t hurry.”
Kacey snorted at the thought, checked to be sure she had her key card and strode purposefully into the hallway.
Though the offices were pretty swanky you had to go out into a public hallway to use the ladies’ room. It had standard issue sickly pink tile and six stainless steel stalls, half of which had doors you had to lift up with your foot in order to latch shut. One of the fluorescent lights near the back was failing so it flickered in a way that made you feel like you were somewhere between a rave and an interrogation.
Kaley went all the way down to the last stall, surreptitiously checking for feet under the other five doors. Thankfully there were none so she used her toe to force the door into a locked position. Her plan, if she could be said to have one, at this point was just to give herself a little jolt, enough to bring her mind back to an officey kind of place. First she tried pinching her nipples but her slightly padded bra made that too muted to do the trick. She tried again harder but it still wasn’t enough.
Suddenly she realized that, if anyone else were to come in, they might wonder why her feet were pointing the wrong direction so she turned around. As she shrugged off her suit jacket the bra’s stiff lace edging scraped her left areola. She swallowed a moan. She hung up the jacket and shifted around experimentally to see if she could repeat the scraping. It was nice but too teasing so she reached into her v-neck shell and slid her index and middle fingers to either side of one peak. They were cold from the overzealous air conditioning and she almost laughed at the shock. She slid them deeper in until the pointed nub was nestled at the juncture of her fingers. Rhythmically, she squeezed.
Holding that there she went in from the bottom of her shirt and under her bra to the other one. Wasting no time she savagely squeezed it between thumb and fingers, giving it a twist to boot. Then she slid both palms to cover the whole breast and judged their weight. Not too small, not enormous but satisfying to hold. The pleasure of it made her cunt muscles contract in an offbeat kind of rhythm.
Keeping one hand inside her shirt she used the other to shimmy her subdued, straight skirt up to her waist. Her pantyhose were a little sticky with polyester-induced sweat but once she’d wormed her hand under the militant waist band it felt sort of comforting. At first she stayed on the outside of her practical cotton-crotch briefs. She still thought this encounter wasn’t going anywhere. As with the bra before, stimulation through the cloth was nice enough but enticing rather than definitive. Like one bite of a candy bar it wasn’t nearly enough.
She navigated the top of her panties and went straight to her opening to gather up some of that juice inspired by the hot story she’d been reading. She had to spread her legs a little wider to get enough room in the tights to do it, too. By the time she pulled that moisture up to her demanding clit her hand was nearly cramping from the effort of fending off her hose. She yanked the other hand out of her shirt and used it to hold the girdle of them away from her, creating an erotic little tent for the ministrations. There was plenty of room now to draw a line from top to bottom of her pussy over and over again.
It was awkward, sure, leaning one shoulder against the pastel tile, thighs tense from pleasure and to keep her low-heeled pumps from sliding on the floor. She let her head sag to the side and her cheek touched the cool wall. Kaley knew she must look foolish but it felt wonderful so she leaned into it, laying one whole side of her face against the oppressive pinkness of it. Her tent-making hand slid further down. She gripped her thigh and used her forearm to hold the persistent spandex away.
Turning slightly she rested her forehead against the wall as she realized this was no quick, preventive measure. She needed to come and she needed to do it quickly. She wished it was the sidekick’s long, thick fingers stirring around inside her. He’d be rough in a way she needed for speed. In his honor she managed two fingers right up to the knuckle and pumped them in and out a few times to fully coat them. When they came out she pinched her clit experimentally. It seemed like something he would do even though she’d never tried it before. It felt good but kind of dangerous. She pinched again then rubbed then more pumping.
A warning went off in her head, she knew she didn’t have time to savor this new discovery, she had to get back and she didn’t want to be interrupted and sent back to square one arousal-wise. Eyes closed, back arched a little, she pictured a girthy, rogueish steely cock pressing against a begging asshole. Three fingers, strong to the point of being vicious but well lubricated flew over her clit. Involuntarily her mouth opened. She had to work to keep her gasps inaudible.
That moment where she know she was at the point of no return was victorious for her. Her arm kept moving as the million nerves inside that tiny button bloomed with delight and then, almost too good to be true, she tipped over the edge. Her whole pelvis clutched and clutched. She had to gently put her fingers back inside herself and hold her palm tight against her labia or she thought she might fall apart. Rolling around she put her back to the wall and just breathed.
For the first time that day she smiled. No, grinned.
10 minutes later, hands washed, skirt straightened, silk shell firmly tucked in, she returned to her desk.
“Anything?” she called to Brenda.
“Just missed a call from Dragon Lady. Sorry.” Brenda replied.
“On my way. Thanks.” she turned on her heel and left, still smiling.
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