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“Sandy, could you come in here for a minute? I need to ask you something. Thanks.”
Her boss’s voice was leathery, rugged and warm, but Sandy Jackson’s hand trembled a little as she put her finger to the ivory-colored intercom button with “Mr. Madisen” printed underneath.
“Yes sir, right away,” she said, flattened her skirt and checked for spotting on the front of her blouse. Disappointed to find the vaguest hint of a milk mark, she shrugged into her blazer and checked her hair. For all the intimidation and power that Mr. Madisen had, he was also absolutely gorgeous, and he always seemed to look at Sandy with a bit of a naughty glint in his eye which she had to admit turned her on just a little.
Sandy, recently divorced mommy of a chubby, funny three-month old, sat at the desk in front of Michael Madisen’s glass-doored office, staring into the mirror of her compact and wondering when she would be able to go back to wearing a normal bra.
Maternity leave was both a blessing and a curse for Sandy, since she got to stay home with little Adie for three full months, but at the same time, she was worried for most of that time whether or not she’d be shifted around to a new place in the company when it was time to go back to work. She liked her job. The pay was pretty good, but the main thing she loved about it was how easy it was – most times, no one even came to the front desk at all, and when they did, it was to ask directions to some meeting room or office.
As it happened, she was not only moved, but given a promotion. She had no clue what she had done to get it, but the fifty percent pay raise, along with a spot on the mostly deserted fifth floor were not things she questioned. In fact, the only other person she saw most times was Mr. Madisen, so she had lots of free time to do pretty much whatever she wanted. The problem with that, though, is that she felt like her career was at a standstill, just kind of idling. Even with the huge pay raise, she was not actually doing anything. She worried that when the time came to move on, her skills like “looking through magazines” and “playing solitaire” would not get her very far.
“Okay Sandy, what are you so upset over?” She asked herself. “He’s a nice enough guy. Just go see what he wants. Probably the current edition of that investment journal he thumbs through and pretends to read.”
She stood, stretched her back which had started aching for the first time in her life when her formerly petite breasts became engorged with milk for Adie. Rubbing her lower spine, Sandy twisted back and forth twice, checked to make sure she had not lactated through her blazer somehow, and willed herself to Mr. Madisen’s door. Halfway there, she realized that she had been his personal assistant for going on two weeks, and had yet to actually see his office. Dismissing the thought, she took a deep breath and entered.
Inside, the room was more sparsely decorated than she had imagined. One painting that resembled a Jackson Pollock and two statues of tall birds represented the only decor.
“Sandy, hey,” Mr. Madisen began, “I wanted to explain the arrangement a little more. I know you’ve been sort of thrown into the deep end since you came back, and - oh, would you like to take off that jacket? Here, let me take it for you. Get comfortable, we have a lot to go over.”
“No. I mean, uh, no thank you, Mr. Madisen,” Sandy stammered, clutching her blazer a little tighter than was probably necessary.
“Is something the matter? I hope I haven’t upset you somehow. Here, let me take that for you.” He reached out, his hand brushing against Sandy’s face, and eased her hand off the lapel of her jacket. “Relax - I’m not going to bite. Anyway, it makes me nervous when people are more dressed up than I am.” He tugged one shoulder down, and Sandy shifted in her seat to oblige him.
Jesus I hope he doesn’t notice these spots, she thought, I’ll just say – oh Hell, he’s not an idiot. Anything I say, he’ll know I’m making up. Maybe this is all a bigger deal than I think. I mean, I did just have a baby and all.
As Mr. Madisen turned to hang her blazer, the form fitting, open-collared dress shirt he wore showed the musculature of his back, neck and upper arms. Sandy realized then he was a lot more attractive than she thought. And, he was just her type, too, with his powerful biceps, dark hair and those smoldering emerald eyes.
When he faced her again, those emeralds fixated directly on the spots growing on the front of her blouse.
“I’m so embarrassed, Mr. Madisen, please let me have my jacket back. I don’t want you to have to see this.” She pleaded, crossing her arms over her chest.
“No. Well,” he exhaled heavily, “I may as well be honest. This is why I called you back here.” His eyes ravished her, and in spite of herself Sandy felt sexy, really sexy, for the first time in months.
“I see you every morning when I come in, those big, gorgeous tits barely contained by whatever you’re wearing.” He watched her, searched her face for a moment and then let his eyes return to devouring her body.
Almost unconsciously, she let her arms relax.
“Good,” he said, moving closer to where she stood, “very good.”
Sandy’s jaw dropped open just a smidge when Mr. Madisen unbuttoned the first of eight tiny buttons running down the front of her shirt and stroked the skin underneath with the back of his hand. His attention was fully on her milk-filled breasts, which she just noticed had begun to ache. She glanced over at the art-deco-looking clock on the wall behind his desk.
Oh my God, she thought, I haven’t pumped in over three hours. No wonder. She had a breast pump in her desk that she used every so often to keep her baby supplied and to keep her tits from getting too sore, but somehow, she had forgotten. She glanced at Mr. Madisen as he slipped her third button through its loop and put his hand on the skin above the upper trim of her bra.
He deftly undid the rest of them, pulled her shirt tail out of the skirt she was wearing, and let it billow out to her sides. Mr. Madisen slid his hands around her waist, raising little prickles on her skin where he touched. Slowly, almost like he was testing the waters, he moved them up her sides until he touched near her underarms.
