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I wonder what will happen if she lets loose and decides that it's okay to fuck me right there on stage.
My hand slides from my mouth to my breast, squeezing it gently over my blouse. I close my eyes, wondering what the crowd will do if Anne decides to push me down on stage and lick my pussy 'til I'm moaning and writhing and dying with pleasure.
I wonder what the other dancers will do.
I wonder what Bruce will do.
And suddenly, with a start, I wonder what Kevin will do.
Because he's standing in front of my desk and looks anything but pleased.
Chapter Two
"Mr. Thompson," I say, suddenly well aware of where I am and who I'm with.
Shit.
How much did he see?
Judging from the judgy look on his face, it was more than I had bargained for, more than I had expected. His eyes pierce my heart, staring me down, making me wish he was bending me over the desk and spanking me for being so inappropriate at work. What he could do to me with those hands...
I quiver.
"What can I do for you?" I manage to squeak out, but it doesn't get me off the hook.
"Kayla," he says slowly, as if he isn't quite sure what to say to me. His lips twitch. Is he about to smile? To laugh? To tell me to keep my slutanigans (that's a word) at home? I've been working for him long enough to know that he doesn't mix business with pleasure. He doesn't talk about his life outside of work, nor does he ask about mine. When I'm at work, my ass is his until he chooses to let me go.
For a second, I wonder what would happen if he didn't let my ass go...
"Did you manage to finish the order for Samuel Gleewood's office?" He finally says. His eyes catch mine, and I realize it's not what he wanted to say. It's not what he cares about. It's not what he's thinking about. That might not even be a real client. I don't know. What I do know is that he absolutely saw me rubbing on my tit and he absolutely heard me moaning.
Absolutely.
And if I'm not mistaken, I think I see the firm outline in his pants starting to grow just a little bit harder, just a little bit bigger.
For me? How sweet.
I look straight into his eyes and I realize that he's thinking the exact same thing I am: What would it be like to fuck? Right here, right now. What would it be like to bend me over my desk, slide my skirt up, and strip my panties off? What would it be like to glide his hand up my creamy white thighs until he reached my pussy? What would it be like to reach a little bit higher, a little bit deeper, until his finger reached inside of me and began to pulse?
What would it be like to make me cum right here?
I realize I haven't said anything yet and he's still waiting.
"Uh," I manage to get out, looking hastily at the mess on my desk. "I'll take care of it right now," I finally say.
"Thank you," he says, nodding appreciatively. He's all business now. The sexually-charged moment of tension has passed. For both of our sakes, I'm glad. While I'm sure Kevin has a huge, throbbing dick, fucking me at work probably isn't in the company's best interest.
It would just be another unnecessary distraction.
Without another word, he heads into his adjoining office and closes the door. I can't help but wonder what he's doing in there. Jerking off? Is he pulling his dick out and thinking of me? Is he wondering what it would be like to have me come in there right now and start sliding his cock down my needy throat?
I have to stop this.
My panties are soaked and I still have hours to go.
Taking a deep breath, I reach for another stack of paperwork. Time to find the Gleewood file.
Chapter Three
