by Selena Kitt
“It’s hard enough for men and women to work together, side by side every day, without distractions like these.” His hand moved lower, lightly stroking the back of her knee. “Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.” She understood now, without a doubt, even if she hadn’t before.
He looked up and met her eyes, his expression unreadable. “Take them off.”
“Sir?” she breathed. He wasn’t serious. He couldn’t be.
“Take them off.” He leaned back in his chair, looking annoyed that he had to repeat himself, crossing his feet at the ankles, his arms over his chest.
Kelsey blinked, a part of her screaming she should run straight to human resources and report this, but her hands moved to her hemline, trying to negotiate a way of taking her striped stockings off without having to pull her skirt up, and she couldn’t think of one.
If the thought of being spanked over his desk had been humiliating, this was far worse. Now she had to face him, watch the corner of his mouth twitch, almost a smile, as she realized she couldn’t do this without hefting her skirt up to hook her thumbs into the elastic tops of her tights.
Maybe he’s making you take them off so he can spank you?
The thought was horrifying. And exciting beyond words.
“Turn around,” Oliver instructed as Kelsey got the elastic down to mid-hip level.
She didn’t question him. She was glad he couldn’t see how red her face was as she slid the tops of the tights over her behind, realizing too late her panties were caught, rolling down along with her stockings, giving him a full view. She didn’t want to think about that, grabbing the top edge of her bikini panties and pulling them back up, pushing the tights down her long, slim thighs. She had to bend over to get them down her knees, her calves, stepping out of her pumps to slide them off her feet.
“Good.” Oliver’s voice was low, husky. He cleared his throat as she slipped her bare feet back into her shoes, picking up the tights, which were decidedly moist in the crotch, from the floor. “Put them on my desk.”
Kelsey balled them in her fist, turning to drop them in the middle of his desk, the damp mass of black and white completely out of place on the blotter.
“Now you can’t wear them again, can you?” He raised an eyebrow at her, reaching over and picking up her tights.
“No, sir.” Her face was flushed, damp, but she felt cold without her tights, and she saw him looking at her naked knees below her hemline as he contemplated the striped stockings in his hands.
“Good girl.” He watched her shift from foot to foot. Kelsey felt completely exposed in front of him. “We have a clear understanding of expectations?”
“Yes, sir,” she lied. She wasn’t sure of anything—not anymore. Having your boss ask you to take your stockings off in his office was a complete game-changer. Who knew?
“Excellent.” He reached behind him, dropping the stockings into the wastebasket. “Then I don’t have to spank you.”
Oh. She was suddenly so lightheaded, she thought she might faint. Oliver turned his chair back to his desk, picking up a file—the Lockheed file—and focusing back on work. She was dismissed. Kelsey wobbled toward the door, feeling naked without her tights.
“I won’t be so lenient next time, Kelsey.” His voice was soft but clear as she started out the door.
“Yes, sir.”
The rest of the day, she was swamped with work, one thing after another, and she was glad. It gave her the time and distance she needed. She was away from her desk when Oliver left for the Lockheed meeting so she didn’t see him then, and he hadn’t returned back to his office by the time she sat back down at her computer at four, after spending the afternoon re-organizing the filing cabinets.
She had been so distracted by the events of the afternoon she hadn’t even thought about DUX217 again until she was back at her desk. Then, she couldn’t help pulling up the message program, looking for a response. Nothing.
She frowned, typing another quick message to DUX217: “Please tell me who you are. Please. I need to know.”
Her press of the “enter” key was rewarded with a blinking “Message Sent” window.
She typed up yesterday afternoon’s dictation, much slower than her usual ninety words per minute pace, because she kept checking every few minutes for a response.
Still nothing. Five o’clock came and went, and there was no answer from DUX217. She called up his last message, reading it again:
Go the men’s room after everyone goes home today and leave your panties in the trash. But first I want you to go into one of the stalls and touch yourself while you’re wearing them. It’s your turn to come for me, Kelsey.
It was after five. The office had finally cleared out, most of the employees in a good mood after the Lockheed meeting, which was a good sign. Or maybe they were glad it was Wednesday—hump day—just two more days until the weekend.
Kelsey clicked “reply” and typed:
“I’m going to go to the bathroom to touch myself, like you asked. I need to know who you are. Tell me your name.”
She clicked the “send” button and her heart lurched when the window popped up: “Message Sent.”
Kelsey stood, scared at the thought of what she was about to do. Her thighs felt moist, and she knew her panties were soaked, with no stockings to help absorb her excitement. It had been in the back of her mind all day, what he had asked her to do.
She stood, heading through the entryway, wondering if she was going crazy. She was completely lost in thought when she went around the corner, heading toward the restrooms, and ran into Matt. Literally—into him. His briefcase went flying, and she bumped her head against his chest.
“Matt!” she cried, rubbing her forehead.
He grunted, grabbing her to keep her from falling. “You okay?” he asked, squeezing her upper arms as he set her fully upright. “No broken bones?”
“I’m okay,” she confirmed, enjoying the feeling of his arm sliding around her waist. She looked up at him and smiled.
“Hey, I heard you were causing trouble with your stripes.” He grinned, his eyebrows going up when he saw her bare legs.
“Oh— laundry day.” She giggled. Actually giggled. She was reduced to acting like a teenager around him! She looked into his face, trying to discern any change in his expression. Was it him? It had to be him! And here she was, without the stockings that had attracted his attention in the first place…
“Well, for what it’s worth, I liked them.” He winked, reaching for his briefcase. “Where’d they go?”
“Oliver didn’t like them.” She flushed, remembering earlier this afternoon in his office. “Against company policy you know.”
“I think we should make exceptions for stripes,” he countered. “Oh, and fishnets. Definitely fishnets.”
She laughed. “Are you trying to get me fired?”
“Live dangerously, Kels!” He touched her nose with the tip of his finger, winking again, giving her that same, dazzling, salesman smile.
Both of them jumped, startled, when the conference room door next to them flew open, Oliver standing there, looking furious.
“Are you two quite finished?” he barked, frowning at the startled look on their faces. His voice dropped a little in volume when he added, “I’m trying to work in here.”
“Me too.” Matt recovered quickly, patting his briefcase. “Ran into Kelsey here on my way down to consult with accounting.”
“Literally, ran into…” she added, knowing how breathless she sounded. Her face felt hot.
“I noticed,” Oliver mumbled as Matt turned the corner and headed toward the elevator. Oliver called after him, “Oh, and Mr. Roberts?”
“Yes, sir?” Matt turned, pushing the down arrow button, a smile playing on his lips.
Oliver stared him down. “A change in company policy won’t be forthcoming in regards to female attire.”
“Yes, sir.” Matt gave him a little salute, but he winked at Kels
ey. “Be careful coming around those blind corners, doll...”
He was gone before either of them could say anything else.
“Damned flirt.” Oliver frowned, still looking after Matt.
“He’s a salesman,” Kelsey reminded him, looking after him too, lost in thought.
“It’s one of the things that makes him such a good one.” Oliver looked back at her, his expression pensive. “See what I mean about magnets?”
She nodded. “Yes.” Boy, did she.
“Goodnight, Kelsey,” he said softly, and she noticed he was looking at her legs, no longer clad in striped stockings. Was he thinking about this afternoon too? “I trust we’ll have a better day tomorrow.”
After Oliver closed the conference room door, she slipped into the alcove between the two restrooms, bending down to take a drink at the fountain. Her throat was dry and her heart was still racing.
She stood suddenly, staring at the men’s room door. Is that where Matt had come from, she wondered. She looked at her watch. It was getting very late. Maybe he had gotten tired of waiting for her? Had he been waiting? Was he waiting, still? Using the excuse about accounting to kill time? Was he waiting for her to finish and leave her panties, so he could come back and get them?
The thought made her knees shake. She carefully pushed open the men’s room door, glancing over her shoulder, wondering if Oliver was watching through the long glass panel beside the conference room door. It was two-way glass—he could see out, but no one else could see in.
She slipped into the men’s room quickly, praying Oliver wasn’t watching, calling out a soft, “Hello?” No answer. She walked over to the stall he had been in yesterday—her mystery interoffice messenger—and let the door swing open. He was right here, she thought. Cock throbbing and hard in his hand... thinking about her... coming so very hard.
Who, Kels? Who was in here?
That was the question, wasn’t it? Who was DUX217?
She slipped into the stall, closing and locking the door behind her. She hiked her skirt up to her waist, not even bothering to tug her panties down. Her pussy was soaked, had been soaked since he first sent the message to her, telling her what he wanted her to do. And, in all honestly, they’d gotten even more wet during her little disciplinary session with Oliver that afternoon.
What was he going to do with her panties? she wondered, fingers probing between her lips. Her juices were sticky and thick. Would he lift them to his nose to smell her? Try to taste her? Kelsey moaned softly, her nipples hardening under her blouse. Was he going to touch himself with them?
For that matter—what had Oliver done with her stockings?
Everyone seemed fascinated with and focused on her wardrobe.
She slid her hand over her panties, rubbing the crotch deep between her slick pussy lips. They were black, thankfully, little black bikini panties with a black cotton inner crotch that soaked up her juices like a sponge. The same panties Oliver had seen when she’d pulled up her skirt and pulled down her stockings, she remembered, flushing with heat. She wedged them between her lips, moaning when her fingers brushed her clit. It was swollen and aching for release.
“I’m touching myself for you,” she whispered, not sure who “you” was, not caring, spreading the silky material tight over her clit with two fingers. She slid her other hand down, using just her index fingernail, she began to scratch her itch. Faster and faster over that little nub, back and forth, scratch, scratch, scratch.
She could barely stay standing and leaned her forehead against the stall door, her breath coming in hot, quick pants. Her finger was pressing now, rubbing her clit in circles, her pussy pulsing, beginning to throb. Close. So close.
“I’m gonna come for you,” she moaned, hips bucking against the door, her whole hand scissored between her legs, shoving her panties deep between her sopping pussy lips. Her orgasm seared through her and she faded into the black for a moment and nearly collapsed with the pleasure of it. She caught herself by leaning into the corner, staring breathless and gasping up at the ceiling.
When she could manage it, she wiggled her panties down, carefully taking them off and slipping her shoes back on without having to stand barefoot on the tile floor. Without anything under her skirt now, she slipped out of the stall, dropping her panties in the trash on the way out.
The office was quiet. Too quiet. But she knew he must be waiting, somewhere.
Who? Who’s waiting?
Back at her desk, she grabbed her purse and went to shut her computer down. Instead, she clicked the message program and opened it. Maybe he’d responded!
No messages.
She called up his last message, needing to read it again. She sat for a moment, lost in thought, her eyes skipping to the words panties and come for me, remembering her orgasm, feeling a thrilling rush of shame knowing she’d left her underwear in the men’s bathroom trash for someone else to find. It made her feel dirty. And excited. It was the same feeling she had this afternoon, taking her stockings off at Oliver’s command.
Smiling, Kelsey turned off her computer and headed for the elevator, in quite a hurry now. She still had to stop at Victoria’s Secret and buy a pair of fishnet stockings on the way home from work.
* * * *
When Oliver stepped off the elevator, Kelsey looked up in surprise from her computer. She’d come in very early to check, of course, but there had been no messages. Instead of going straight into his office, Oliver approached her desk.
“Good morning, Oliver.” She smiled, crossing her legs under the desk, feeling incredible heat between her thighs. The anticipation and excitement of DUX217’s message about her abandoned panties had her practically panting with lust.
“Can you tell me why I had fifty copies of the Lockheed numbers given to me during our meeting yesterday?” he asked quietly, putting his briefcase on her desk and popping it open.
Her stomach lurched as he removed a stack of papers. She had hoped this wasn’t going to come up. She’d seen him, although briefly, after the meeting, when he’d come out of the conference room to interrupt her conversation with Matt. Why hadn’t he mentioned it then?
“I sent the memo like you asked.” She swallowed, remembering the box that had popped up on her computer. “Message Sent to All Employees.”
“Kelsey, I got them from everyone. I had fifty people waving papers at me when I asked for the numbers, and Helena Lockheed looked at me like I had three heads.”
“I’m sorry, Oliver,” she apologized, remembering the long line at the copier after she’d sent out her memo. “I think I sent the memo out to everyone by accident. It was the new interoffice message system. I hit the wrong keys.”
“You have to be more careful.” He sighed. “What if it’d been sensitive information?”
“I’m sorry,” she said again, biting her lip. “On the bright side, at least you know everyone reads your memos and does what you tell them to do.”
“Good point.” He gave her a lop-sided smile. She had never noticed how his face changed when he smiled. It wasn’t something she saw very often, but she liked it. It made him look younger, even boyish.
“Thank you.” She couldn’t help smiling back at him.
“Well we kept the account anyway,” he conceded with a sigh. “Helena Lockheed’s off my back for another two years.” He pulled a file folder from his briefcase, putting the other papers back. “Can you run this over to personnel for me?”
“Of course.” Relieved her mistake hadn’t done too much damage, Kelsey stood, taking the file folder from him and starting toward the elevator.
Oliver’s voice stopped her before she could push the button. “Kelsey.”
“Sir?” She turned to face him and saw his gaze focused on her legs. He had that look again, the same one she’d seen when she was wearing her striped stockings. She was wearing a black jacket and skirt today, a white blouse, standard office fare—but her stockings were fishnets, the kind with the seam up the back.
Oliver’s gaze swept upward and he met her eyes. “Was I unclear yesterday?”
“No, sir.” The heat that filled her body when he looked at her was almost unbearable. She felt faint.
Oliver opened his door. “Come into my office.”
“Yes, sir.” She followed him, shutting the door behind her.
“Lock it.” He stood beside his chair, taking off his suit coat. His words made her mouth go dry, but she did what he asked, pushing the button and hearing it click.
She stood with her back to the door, hands shaking, not so sure about her decision to defy the company dress code again now that she was faced with her boss as he loosened and removed his tie, his gaze still on her.
“Do you know why I like selling insurance, Kelsey?”
She shook her head, confused by this sudden change of direction.
“I sell illusions. It’s a magic trick.” He unbuttoned his top two buttons, enough that she could see the dark edge of his chest hair. “Do you like magic tricks?”
She nodded. “I guess.”
“Of course you do. Everyone likes magic tricks.” He unbuttoned his cuffs, leaving the links on the desk, rolling up his sleeves. “Come here, Kelsey.”
“Do I have to take my stockings off again?” She approached cautiously.
“We’ll get to that.” He sat down in his chair, slipping off his shoes, and she stared at his black socks, disarmed by the sight of him in stockinged feet.
“Stand here.” He pulled her between his thighs, snugged up until she was wedged there, looking down at him. “In this office, I’m the boss. I have all the power.”
She nodded, seeing the way his gaze followed the edge of her unbuttoned jacket, down the buttons of her blouse.
“But remember, it’s all an illusion.” He lifted her skirt and made her hold it at her waist, giving him a full view of her in her white panties and black fishnet stockings. He leaned in and grabbed her calf, cupping it in his hand and lifting it so her black pump rested between his legs on the chair. She grabbed onto his shoulders for balance and he smiled, his hand moving over her ankle, her shin, her thigh.
“I don’t understand.” She looked down at him in wonder as he groaned and rested his cheek against her thigh, eyes closed.
