Dipping Pens in Company Ink

"Gin and tonic," Jenni Lane says without hesitation.

I couldn't help but giggle. And Jenni does the same. God, she's even more beautiful when she smiles. I bend down retrieve a bottle of sparkling water—the closest thing to tonic—and hand it to her. "Looks like we're fresh out of Gin, but this is the best I've got."

"Did my husband say how long he'd be?" Jenni Lane asks while unscrewing the fizzy water.

"Umm, well—"

"Think I'd have time for a smoke?"

"May I join you?" I quickly ask, happy to change the subject and eager to have another cigarette. I nod towards the tall French doors leading out to the balcony.

We go outside and light one up. I have to bum another cigarette, but vow to pick up a pack on my way home. Jenni Lane takes a big drag and exhales fully through her nose.

"Not many people know I smoke," Jenni says, admiring the lipstick-stained filter between her fingertips. "My husband started smoking because of me. I think it's sexy as fuck."

I cough a cloud of smoke. Holy shit—wasn't expecting her to say the F word! I thought I was the only one who cussed like a sailor!

Jenni Lane continued: "I think you're sexy as fuck too."

Did...she just say what I think she just said? I nervously giggle and brush it off as a joke.

But she was serious.

Jenni Lane takes a step closer to me. The small of my back brushes against the balcony railing, a cool reprieve from my heated insides. I cock my head to the left and glimpse a fifteen-story fall—but it wasn't the height making my legs tremble. Jenni takes another step closer. I can feel her breath on my lips. Her scent in my nose. Her eyes lock onto mine, two beauties of blue surrounded by dark brown mascara, unblinking, twinkling, gazing at me.

A finger begins to tickle my forearm. I audibly gulp as it runs the length of my arm in a zigzag formation. Jenni Lane reaches for my face and gently brushes the back of her hand against my cheek. A gasp escapes my gaping mouth, followed by a swell of saliva and a forceful swallow.

Her delicate fingers trace the outline of my lips, cataloguing every curve, arch, and crevasse. I close my eyes as she begins to leans in, placing a tender kiss on my pout. She instantly backs off, but I instinctively pull her back, savoring the cherry flavor of her lips against my own.

Our gentle kiss preluded an onslaught of raw desire. I shoved my tongue through pursed lips, tasting her mouth with the tip of my taste buds. I twirled my tongue around her own, suddenly surprised to feel the cool metal from a hard piercing. Jenni Lane's tongue laps back and forth, making slippery semicircles along my length while sucking up whatever breath I had left. She grabbed the back of my head to force herself deeper, clinking teeth and swapping saliva and kissing passionately for what seemed like hours.

Pulling away after a realistic minute or so, Jenni bites her bottom lip and says through a smirk:

"Can you keep a secret?"

I open my eyes, inches from her own, and silently tell her that I could. Her eyes scan my lips before she reveals, "I'm not wearing panties."

No fucking way!

With my back pressed firmly against the railing, I slide down just far enough so I can look up; beneath the hem of her short dress is the perfect view of her exposed pink pussy. Dripping wet, freshly shaven, and quivering with desire, Jenni Lane is utterly soaked and begging for more. She lowers one hand between her thighs and presses two fingers against her swollen nub. I watch in awe as her manicured fingertips begin to rub rapidly up and down and up and down, squishy sounds swishing atop soft, methodic moans.

Just when I'm about to kiss Jenni Lane's pretty privates, the balcony doors rattle open and out steps Mr. Steel. I yelp and jump, spinning around, my hands clinging, clammy, around the railing. I'm staring 15 stories down and yet I feel Mr. Steel's eyes staring at me.

Jenni Lane whirls about and warmly greets her husband with a hug, wiping her fingertips on the back of his blazer. I pretend to casually look over and nod a causal 'hey.' My legs are crossed so tight as to prevent the warm wetness from trickling down. My panties were soaked and my body was hot and I had never been more turned on in my life.

"I met your secretary," Jenni Lane says while kissing my boss's cheek. "I can see why you speak so fondly of her."

Mr. Steel mumbles something too quietly for me to hear. I blush. I'm speechless. Not knowing what to say, I manage to squeak:

"I'm only just a receptionist."

"Mmm, darling, you're much more than that," Jenni Lane confides with a purr.

I bid my farewell and head back inside, eager to pack up and head home and not look back. I was confused and uncomfortable and... oh fuck, who am I kidding, I was fucking aroused!

The entire weekend was dedicated to lost thoughts, daydreams, and erotic dreams. I just couldn't get Jenni Lane... or her husband... out of my head! It was at this moment I regretted not having the CFO's phone number. That said, I had never been more eager about a Monday in my life! And, to make up for last week's tardiness, I made sure to get to work early, hoping to catch Mr. Steel in random elevator encounters or secret smoke breaks.

Twinkles in my eye and a skip in my step, Monday morning was beyond joyous. I greet my coworkers with smiles and coffees, and even surprise Blake with a warm hug. He whispers "afternoon delight?" and I pretend not to hear.

Strange though, I never see Mr. Steel come in.

The clock strikes twelve and Blake invites me to lunch again. Again we snack and talk—mostly about Mr. Steel—and Blake reveals that Mr. Steel took the day off. I am overcome with sadness. Blake suggests we finish our thoughts in his car.

"No, sorry," I sigh, gathering my things and preparing to leave, "I just remembered I have to email a client back..."

"Can't it wait?" he called out, but I was nearly out of earshot and already made up my mind.

Tuesday rolls around. And still no Mr. Steel. Turns out boss called out again today, and Blake doesn't have much anything to do. Other than to bother the living piss out of me! He hasn't stopped bugging me about the front seat of his fucking CAR! So when Blake approaches me for the fourth time that day, I literally drop my things and grab his hand and pull him to the outside balcony. As the doors slam shut I slam Blake against the exterior wall, eagerly unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants, pulling them to his ankles as pocket contents spill out around his feet.

I start at his shoes and creep my hands up the length of his legs and thighs. I can hear him panting and see his thighs tighten. I lean my face closer to his loins, blow warm air atop his bulge, and prepare to whip that begging dick out...

Then without warning and not a moment too soon, the balcony door handle begins to rattle; Blake bent down to pull his pants up while I got to my feet. We miraculously managed to compose ourselves before being greeted by the brown-nosing HR Manager.

Oh fuck fuck FUCK! That was close!

"I... hope I'm not interrupting anything?" piped the HR Manager, eyeing both Blake and me.

"Just our after lunch smoke," I coolly replied, grabbing the pack out of Blake's back pocket and pulling out a cigarette; I pointed it towards the HR lady, who shook her head in a 'not cool' response. I shrugged and plopped it in my mouth; Blake followed along and offered a lit lighter.

"Well," the HR Manager huffs, waving some smoke away from her fat face, "I just wanted to inform you that we are starting quarterly evaluations, so I will need you to send a company wide email..."

"Yeah okay sure."

"And maybe," she continued, raising a brow, "you should include our no-dating-policy in that email, too."

Blake and the HR manager go in while I finish the last few drags of my smoke. Once they are out of sight, I flick the butt and use that hand to retrieve something I had snuck in my high-waist skirt: Blake's iPhone, which had fallen out of his pants when I had pulled them down, but he was too busy being in la-la land to notice if anything was missing.

Now was my chance! I had seen Blake pull out his phone so many times that I had remembered his phone's passcode: 6969. Classic Blake. I swipe to his text messages and find the convo between him and Mr. Steel. I eagerly swipe down to get caught up:

Saturday, 11:08am

Mr. Steel:

I need you to cancel my Monday meetings.

Blake:

Is everything all right?

Mr. Steel:

Yes. Just rekindled the old flame with the wife. Taking her to The Keys this weekend.

Blake:

That's fantastic news, Mr. Steel. I'll reschedule those meetings. Enjoy the weekend.

Sunday, 7:43pm

Mr. Steel:

Go ahead and cancel Tuesday appointments as well.

Blake:

Are you sure? You have the 10 o'clock with the investors that morning.

Mr. Steel:

The investors can wait. My wife comes first.

My blood begins to boil and my face flushes with jealousy. I know Mr. Steel is married, and his wife is quite nice and super sexy too, and I should be happy for them... they are married after all... I shouldn't be jealous of their family... but I can't control these feelings I have for Mr. Steel, and a part of me desperately wanted Mr. Steel to feel a twinge of jealousy for me too...

So I start typing many things—many inappropriate, foul-mouthed things—but end up deleting most of them; finally I decide to send the following, and breath a sigh of relief once it finally gets delivered:

Tuesday, 2:15pm

Blake:

I showed London my car and she REALLY likes the front seat ;) I cannot thank you enough for that raise, Mr. Steel.

Then suddenly, Blake's phone rings. I gasp when I see it's Mr. Steel! I instantly decline the call and subsequently delete that text message. Mr. Steel calls back again, and I silence the ringer, staring at the flashing phone that begs to be answered, the green accept button just begging to be clicked. A few moments later, the call ceases and a new voicemail vibrates into existence.

Do I dare listen to it? No, no, no—I've done too much already and pushed my luck. I delete the voicemail without listening to it just as the balcony door swings open; it's Blake, who just finally realized he lost his phone.

"There it is!" Blake laughs as I place the phone in his hand. My hands are clammy and shaky, but thankfully Blake doesn't notice. "Must'ave fallen out when you were about to gobble me up."

I nod and shrug and wipe my hands on my ass.

"We gotta be more careful," Blake continues, lowering his phone into a back pocket, "so how about we do it tomorrow in my car?"

That fucking car, I wanted to scream, but instead bit my lip and raised my eyebrows and shrugged my shoulders, which was enough to satisfy Blake.

The rest of the day I was left wondering what Mr. Steel's voicemail had said. Every time the office phone rang, I held my breath, thinking, hoping, and possibly dreading that it was going to be Mr. Steel.

But I was wrong every time.

I was quick to leave work that day, but still came in early the next. I greeted all my coworkers as they came in—except Blake, who oddly, never showed up. I checked my emails for his requested time off, or a message that he was sick, but none were true. I started sweating and panicking, thinking that something terrible had befallen Blake.

An hour later, I discovered my suspicions were true.

My head was buried in work so I didn't notice him come in. Without lifting my gaze from my computer screen, I instinctively said: "Happy Wednesday, and welcome to—"

"Miss London."

I yelp, nearly a scream. It's Mr. Steel.

"I need to see you in my office. Please."

"W-w-when?" I stammer, averting my eyes from Mr. Steel's stare.

"Immediately."

My chest is tight and my heart pounds hard. Mr. Steel disappears from view and I finally remember how to breathe. My asshole tightens and my pussy lips moisten. I can't tell if I'm terrified, intimidated, or incredibly aroused. I compose myself and take a deep breath and head down the hallway to Mr. Steel's office.

His office is at the furthest possible corner, just past the glass-walled conference rooms with shiny lacquered tables. Blake's desk, just outside Mr. Steel's door, is surprisingly empty except for a single computer monitor. I realize I had never visited Blake at his desk before, and certainly have never been to—or inside—Mr. Steel's executive office.

The door is slightly ajar. I knock three times to announce my arrival before hearing an encouraging, albeit intimidating, "Please come here."

My eyes narrow. My heart stops. My breathing stops. It's not just Mr. Steel in the room.

It's also...HER.

Oh fuck. Fuck. FUCK.

The HR manager is there, and asks me to come sit down. I'm like, freaking the fuck out, thinking that I'm gonna get fired, and that stupid Blake bragged to someone about the almost-blowjob and that piggy-nosed HR bitch is always in everyone's business. So of course the HR manager found out about it, and today is the day that I'm gonna fired.

I can't even focus on what they're saying at first, because now I'm certain that Blake got fired, and I'm totally next on the chopping block.

Fuck, I didn't even get to see his cock!

As I'm muttering nonsensically in my head and under whatever breath I had left, a particular word suddenly captured my full attention:

"Promotion."

Wait, a what?

They offer me the position of Executive Assistant to the CFO. Blake has been laid off due to reasons unspoken. To say that I was in complete loss for words would be far too many words.

The HR lady leaves, closing the heavy door behind her, and now it's just me and Mr. Steel. Alone. He's at least eight feet across the desk from me, but he couldn't have felt any closer.

"Surprised?" Mr. Steel smiled as he relaxed a little in his chair.

I...I...I didn't know how to respond. What's a more surprised version of 'surprised'?

"Don't act so surprised, Miss London," Mr. Steel continued, a twinkle in his eye, "you deserve it."

Did I?

"You'll make a great Executive Assistant, I'm sure."

Will I?

"I've been watching you, Miss London."

He has?

"I see great potential in you."

You do?!

"Can I trust you, Miss London? With my deepest, most intimate secrets?" Mr. Steel licked his bottom lip, my eyes fixated on a glimmering dab on his pout. He leans forward and leans in close. We share an intimate moment of eye stares and flutters. I get butterflies in my tummy as I smelled the bourbon rise on his breath: "As my Executive Assistant, you will know everything about me. In both business and personal affairs. No bull shit. Full transparency. Twenty-four seven. Can you do it?"

I nodded my head and cleared my throat and tried my best to utter a processional, "Yes, Mr. Steel. Yes, sir."

"Very good."

Mr. Steel leans back in his chair and interlocks his fingers. He then gets up and walks around his desk, making his way to the back of my chair. I instinctively sit up straight and suck my tummy in, my pussy lips quivering in anticipation.

He places both hands on the tops of my shoulders, his powerful fingers lying heavy on my collarbones. I held my breath while he exhaled his own. I could feel the heat from his groin on the back of my head. The tension and connection was physically there and drawing me in.

"Full disclosure, Miss London?" the CFO asked as he pulled me back a little, the back of my head resting against his might.

"Mmm-hmmm," I squeaked.

"I want to fuck the shit out of you."

I could hear Mr. Steel undoing his belt buckle. I gasped as shivers shot down my spine. My insides trembled and my lower lip quivered as the belt was freed and a zipper started coming down.

I didn't move. I couldn't move. But the lack of rebuttal was enough to push Mr. Steel further along. He placed one hand on my head and wrapped his fingers around my skull, carefully forcing my head clockwise. I looked over just as Mr. Steel's massive cock erupted upwards as his pants fell down.

Fuck me—that thing was HUGE!

His cockhead plumed like a giant purple mushroom and his shaft was wrapped with fleshy veins engorged with desire. Mr. Steel's dick was surely as thick as my forearm—if not bigger! It unleashed wild thoughts in my mind of how this massive man cock was going to destroy my 18-year old insides.

Mr. Steel pulls me up and out of the chair, whirling me around so my front is facing his, his throbbing cock wagging towards my heaving chest, the gap of my exposed trembling thighs dripping with glee.

"Lissssten... I have a wife..." the CFO whispered in my ear as he pulled me against his hard buff body, my silky skirt parting on its own for that begging dripping dick, "...and a reputation to uphold..."

I wriggled my body against his moans; I knew he did, and that's what made it that much hotter. I didn't fucking care—it only made me want him more—and by the looks of things, Mr. Steel shared the same naughty thoughts and apparent disregard to secret forbidden fantasies.

He was mine and I was his.

Within an instant, the CFO lowering me onto the table and threw off my heels and began nibbling on my sweaty feet trapped within sheer stockings. I giggled and cooed as Mr. Steel slid his hands up my legs where he started to finger the lace tops on my thigh-highs, a fashion choice inspired by his very wife. I purred as he kissed the exposed parts of my thighs, until his lips made their way up towards my throbbing, begging pussy. He hooked a finger at the top of my lace panties, slid them down to my ankles, and then mounted me atop the mahogany table. He pulled my clothes up past my tummy, then past my breasts, removing blouse, bra, and skirt simultaneously, before throwing them aside, exposing my perky pink nipples and tiny 18-year old tummy.

"Is this what you want?" the CFO smirked as he stared down at my immaculate body just waiting for him. My little tummy filled with butterflies as my protruding hipbones pointed upwards, acting as guidelines for effective fucking.

He pushed his cock against my wet slit.

"Is this the RAISE you were looking for?'

"Oh yes Mr. Steel!" I cheered as I wrapped my silky stockings around his back, opening my dripping pussy as wide as it would go. It was light pink and completely shaven—so smooth with the cutest little lips and an aroused clit that looked like a pink pearl atop a marshmallow clam. "Please, please Mr. Steel! Please give me a raise!"

The CFO pushed his hard dick against my wetness. My pink lips hugged his purple cockhead as he teased my clit, rubbing himself up and down and up and down. His mushroom knocked at my marshmallow hole, but she wouldn't let him come in.

He latched his hands around my hips and one...two...three... AAAAAAGGGHHHH! Mr. Steel's cock broke through my barrier, stretching and ripping and tearing my insides apart! His mushroom cockhead and meaty shaft erupted through my cunt over and over again, rocking slowly back and forth and back and forth.

FUCK IT'S SO BIG! He's hurting me! Oh fuck oh fuck!

The CFO covered my mouth, silencing my screams, as he growled and steadied his cock, allowing his manhood to rest inside of me—giving me time to get accustomed to his girth while calming his own pent-up desire.

"FUCK! You are SO TIGHT!"

"I'm only 18, silly!" I giggle playfully as my pussy tightened against his massive cock. It throbbed hard. I allowed my feet to caress his scruffy face while he readied himself and steadied his thoughts.

"Listen..." Mr. Steel hissed, forcing his cock even deeper, bottoming out against my cervix. It hurt so much but felt so good! "Listen, Miss London...if you let me fuck you like how I have always wanted to FUCK an 18 year old" -he pushed himself deeper and took my breath away—"and if you let me cum so deep inside of you...I will make sure to get you that raise..."