In the morning, as I pulled on my new skirt and straightened the shirt I was wearing with it I felt more nervous than I could remember being. Back at my desk I racked my brain for a manufactured reason to contact him. And yet… I could also feel my worries being drowned out by another voice inside me that was praying his hand would keep moving. Last minute trip for the DRI client. He looked very sexy like that, both playful and poised. I had to see what his tone would be like in the response. Finally, I just went with something that seemed even remotely plausible: Why was my phone silent — why was there no word from him? I sat at my desk outside his office and tried to busy myself, or at least look like I was busy, while I kept watch out of the corner of my eye for him to appear.
Feeling awkward about just standing there while he touched me I leaned forward to kiss him. It intrigued me, or at least made me feel flattered that I was getting to be privy to his private side. This was a dumb sex thing with my boss, sure, it was probably irresponsible, but I was responsible in more than enough other areas of my life to make up for it. I had to see what his tone would be like in the response. He looked at me and I nodded, pulling my skirt down as far as it would go. I returned to my desk and waited to be summoned. I drove to the mall after work to try on a few of the more promising skirts, the sensation of pulling them on and off felt heightened, I was very aware of everything touching my skin. This was all new territory for me. Why was my phone silent — why was there no word from him? He bit his lip. He sent an email out this morning. Finally, I just went with something that seemed even remotely plausible: Jack was always a weird combination of mysterious and forthright. Adrienne— Thanks for working late last night, I have everything I need for the meeting. And yet… I could also feel my worries being drowned out by another voice inside me that was praying his hand would keep moving. I was already worrying as I picked out my outfit — a snug black pencil skirt, a semi-sheer black top, black nylons, and black stilettos. Several hours of hitting refresh later: That was a flirtatious text. I walked to his desk and perched myself on the edge of it, trying my best to look sophisticated. Hi Jack— I heard you had to travel today last minute. Do you need me to take care of anything here at the office? I glanced back at the open door, no one was due in for a bit longer, but that what if someone came in early? I snapped a photo of the skirt in the dressing room mirror and texted it to Jack. Back at my desk I racked my brain for a manufactured reason to contact him. He looked very sexy like that, both playful and poised. In the morning, as I pulled on my new skirt and straightened the shirt I was wearing with it I felt more nervous than I could remember being.
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