Bad Bad Girl

I’ll ruin your life, You just won’t care.

December 16th, 2006

The Secretary

So this is a little thing that Z and I started writing back and forth recently, and so with his permission I’ve decided to start posting it here. We’ve got a few pieces written, and it’s the same story, told going forward from both perspectives, you’ll get it, I’ll change the color of the text to distinguish who is talking, although I’m sure you can figure it out. It may start out a little slow, but hopefully the tension will tease you to read more. I’ll try to add a little more to it every couple of days in between the regularly programmed cockslutty talk. I can’t stay away from the rough stuff for too long before I need my fix. I’ve been fucking myself senseless for days now, and I think I need to wrap my cunt around some real live cock.

I am going to take some time out for a hard and fast fuck with someone who I don’t really want to date, but have no problems with fucking his brains out. I think it’s a rare man who can appreciate a bad girl who just needs some good hard cock every once in a while, but doesn’t expect much from me. That’s the kind of man I want right now.

I refuse to be your booty call, but I’ll let you be mine.

=====
The Secretary, Part 1.
Polite Introductions

Her

Driving down the street to his house, I remembered that the gal at the agency smiled and got kind of embarassed when when was telling me about the guy who would be my new boss. I wondered if she fucked him? She said we would be working in his home office- close quarters. I hope that he at least listens to music. I pulled up to the house, examined the front and decided that he was probably married, at least one kid. A girl, from the pink bicycle, but maybe a boy…basketball hoop on the garage. Landscaping, a tree. I parked on the street in front of the house and made the walk up to the door. I could hear music coming from inside the house…thank God, it was the radio station I was listening to in the car. At least he was not as old as my dad.

I knocked on the door and straightened out my clothes. Skirt, tight v-neck sweater, knee high boots. I was told I could wear jeans, but it didn’t hurt to put on a skirt, and maybe show a little skin on my first day. That’s always a good ice breaker. Let him know that I am not the secretary pool type. I was kind of nervous. I always try to masturbate when I’m nervous about anything, takes the edge off, but this morning, I was in a hurry and I didn’t have time. I knew I should have just brought my vibrator along with me in the car. Nervous situtuations just make my pussy wet because my body seems to know that I combat nervousness with orgasms. So now I’d have to be all day distracted from my wet pussy.

When he opened the door, he had the phone in one hand and he was talking on it- ending a phone call, and a cup of coffee in the other. He immediately handed me the cup of coffee, and motioned for me come inside. I closed the door behind me and he turned to walk into the house, but as I turned around to follow him, he turned back towards the door and we crashed. I managed to move the coffee out of the way, but he was right up against me. I froze for a second, hoping the coffee did not spill every where- and he froze for a second, bracing himself for the third degree burn. But there was none. Just he and I, standing so close that my tits were up against him. And his hands were around my back- I guess in case I was about to fall. 5 seconds in the door and I am already in his personal space and proving to be a klutz. Great… nice start.

I looked up at him- and noticed him looking down at me. Or really, looking past me, right down my top. I cleared my throat loud and deliberately, “um, your hands?”

He smiled, but he was not at all embarrassed being caught checking out my rack. What the hell? He was tall, at least 6 foot. Handsome, dark hair and eyes. Clean. And staring at my tits.

I reached behind me with one hand and removed his hand from my back and took a step back. “Here, let me help you with that. My name is….”

Still smiling at me, he introduced himself. He was confident in a sexy way. He commented that I looked nice, but I could dress down if I wanted to. We would just be here alone in the house. He was attractive. He spoke briefly about his work, but I was just watching his mouth as he talked. The way the words just sort of spilled out his lips. I wanted to reach up and touch them with my fingers. He was staring at me too. When I talked, his eyes would wander down and I knew he was looking at my mouth as I talked. I instinctively licked my lips and bit on the bottom one after I stopped talking, allowing him to stare at me for a second.

He turned to the side and extended his arm out and invited me in. As I walked past him, he put his hand on the small of my back to guide me through the house. Maybe it was from the weird moment we just had- or maybe it was because I was nervous and horny, but his touch, so firm and deliberate- sent a shock up my spine and made me take in a breath. Did he mean to do that? Twice in less that 10 minutes he had put his hands on my body as if they belonged there. And the funny thing is, I didn’t really want him to stop touching me.

Him
“She’s supposed to be here at eight o’clock,” I told my friend Desiree on the phone. “The woman at the agency said she’d be perfect.”

Desiree laughed, a kind of ‘I know something you don’t know’ laugh. “The woman at the agency? You told me about her, you said that she was hitting on you.” Desiree liked to tease me about other women. Though she and I ended our tumultuous relationship years before, the blonde liked to think she knew me better than anyone.

“No,” I corrected her, “I said I flirted with her. It got me a better rate! At least, I think it did. But I never touched her, inappropriately.” I got a coffee mug from the cupboard; I skipped the one with Cookie Monster on it, and instead chose the one that said I heart NY. “Do you suppose she drinks coffee?” I asked my ex-lover.

Des snapped “Of course she drinks coffee. Perfect? The agency said she’s perfect?” She sounded incredulous. “Or is she just perfect for YOU?”

“I hope she is perfect for ME,” I countered, pouring the cup of joe. “It won’t hurt a bit if she’s got big tits and soft lips. Only to look at, of course,” I qualified before Desiree could accuse me of impropriety. Then I sabotaged it by adding “and to think about later, when I’m alone.”

I heard the knock at the door. It was her, a few minutes early. I reached over and turned the volume down on the stereo, then made my way to the door, coffee in one hand, phone in the other. I opened the door with the free fingers of my phone hand, and swung it wide to let the
secretary into my house.

She was smokin hot in a tight sweater, lightweight skirt and knee-high boots. A lump formed in my throat immediately. To cover my speechlessness, I handed her the coffee mug designed for New Yorkers and gestured for her to come inside. Then I turned my back on her and smiled broadly. “Dee,” I said, “I gotta go.” I hung up without waiting for a reply.

I thought about the woman who had just walked in my door. Petite of height, with honey brown eyes and long curly hair that my hands wanted to dive into. I only looked at her for a moment, and I suddenly wondered if I had imagined how beautiful she was. I had to know immediately if it was my imagination, so I turned back toward her.

We collided. Somehow she avoided spilling the coffee all over me. Graceful - she must think I’m a walking accident! But fortunate accident it was; the stranger was pressed up against me. I could feel her generous breasts pressing into my chest and I looked down, only to be greeted by the v-collar of her sweater exposing the smooth flesh of her cleavage. I stared, enjoying the closeness with the woman I hadn’t really even met yet. I was suddenly aware that I was growing evidently excited by our proximity.

Her first words to me were “um, your hands?” I didn’t let go immediately; I think I just wanted to see if she would become angry or just laugh at the situation. She did neither. She kept her cool as if nothing unusual had happened, and gently guided my hands from her body.

We stepped back from each other, and she looked me over. I enjoyed her observation - especially how her eyes lingered on my mouth. I took it as an invitation to drink her in with my eyes as well, and my eyes feasted on her lips especially. They were red and full, and looked to be quite comfortable in a smile. I longed to feel them pressed against my own.

Once introductions were made, I led her through the living room to the converted den that served as my home office. I stole the opportunity to feel the small of her back. I guided her one-handed, enjoying the feel of her back and the way her curls of luxurious hair tickled the top of my hand as we walked.

“You’ll sit at the desk,” I told her, enjoying the way her eyes darted around the small room, taking in the features. “There’s plenty of catch-up work to do right now, but eventually you’ll be working with spreadsheets, a contact database, word processing. I’m more comfortable working on the futon.” I pointed to the sofa-shaped futon. A notebook computer sat on a small table beside the khaki colored cushion.

I was bored with the conversation. Maybe it was the fact that I’d been alone for three weeks. Maybe it was because she wore a subtle, but alluring scent, or perhaps it was the sexy skirt, boot, sweater combination clinging tightly to her curves. More likely it was her eyes, her hair, the way she bit her lip. I daydreamed for a moment while the new secretary opened her satchel and withdrew her handful of personal items.

I imagined myself grabbing the back of her collar and pulling her upright, then bringing her shoulders to my chest. I saw myself putting my other arm around her waist, and nuzzling my nose into her hair and then into the small area of tender skin behind the jaw, under the ear. I pictured myself kissing her neck and jaw, pulling her firmly back against me, and caressing her abdomen and hips with my other hand.

“Huh? I’m sorry, what did you say?”