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Shit, that was sexy.
Cynthia stood up, fixing her dress. She looked a lot less tense this time. "Okay. I have to get back to work. You two try not to have any more sex. And you," she said, poking one long French fingernail into my chest, "be good. I'll see you tonight for dinner."
I grinned. "Yes, Cynthia."
With the clicking of her boot heels following her out the door, Cynthia left. I turned back to Sarah, clapping my hands together. "So. What say we get back to work?"
Sarah winked. Then she gave me a nice hug. A minute later she pulled back. "Sure. Let me just redo my lipstick."
"Right."
"And, by the way..."
"Yes?"
"I'm not wearing panties. Just in case you were wondering."
I gulped, caught. I had indeed been wondering about that. Then I zipped my fly closed and found my camera.
* * * * * * *
A few hours later, Sarah said, "If you don't mind, I'm going to slip into something a little more comfortable. These heels are killing my feet."
"Oh, yeah, sure, go ahead. We'll just wrap this up, and you can be on your way."
"Is Cynthia going to come by and pick you up for dinner?"
I glanced at my watch and panicked slightly. Even though dinner wasn't until six, and it was only two, I still had some other stuff to do today.
I was going to be late if I didn't get moving.
Sarah seemed to read my mind. She said, "I'll just go change really quick. Or do you think we've taken enough pictures?"
I cracked a grin. "Yeah, I think we have enough."
"Then I will change. Be right back."
I was just putting the memory card in the computer to look at the photos, when Sarah emerged from the dressing stall, clad only in a white terrycloth bathrobe, bare feet, hair up in a bun.
I looked over in surprise. "You weren't kidding when you said you wanted to slip into something more comfortable."
Sarah laughed. "What can I say. High heels aren't good for long wear." Then she saw the monitor. "Wow. Are those the photos we just took?"
"Yep. What do you think?"
"Would Cynthia mind if I joined you guys for dinner? I'll even pay."
The End.
Sign Your Ass Away
"Craig?" called Maggie as the younger man walked past her office. He frowned and let out a sigh before putting on a brave face and stepping back into her doorway.
"Did you need me?" he asked demurely. So keen to please the CIO despite the shared view that she was an almighty cunt.
Now that he was at her doorway she looked back at her desk, not even maintaining eye contact as she spoke. She was offhand, as usual, as if her whims and wishes were clearly the most important thing in Craig's day. She rattled off some request: she hadn't seen the signed-off copy of the capability transfer report Craig had been working on. It was overdue.
He stared at her with undisguised disdain as she spoke, his anger at the pointless request boiling inside him. She was overweight, with a pudgy face and outdated hair. Her skin was smooth and her cheeks had the rosy tint of someone who overindulged. But behind that harmless looking exterior was one mean bitch. Craig had finished the report weeks ago and gotten the nod from all the relevant team leads but he hadn't gotten around to completing the final step mandated by the auditors: all financial documents must include a cover sheet with all the required signatures. It was a pointless step in the process, pure bureaucracy, but Maggie insisted her hands were tied in this by the auditors and Craig needed to get those signatures before she could mark the deliverable as complete.
