4 comments/ 52805 views/ 2 favorites Beneath the Surface By: archibael What the hell is it she's playing at? I wonder as she breezes by my desk for like the seventh time today, whiffs of perfume in tow. Every time she goes by she turns, pauses almost imperceptibly, and just looks at me before turning on her heel, expensive business suit in a whirl, and walking away. The first couple of times I've tried to ignore her, but eventually it's started getting to me. During lunch hour, I wander over to her office to find out what's up. She is talking with another subordinate-- Charlene, from accounting. I wait for Char to take off, and then knock on the open door to get her attention. "Ah," she says as she notices me, "come in." Is there a dangerous smirk on her face? She stabs a button on her desk and the door closes behind me. Executives have all the cool toys. Echoes from the door latch are punctuated only by an uncomfortable silence. She looks at me expectantly, leaning forward in her plush chair. "Yes?" "I--" I'm uncomfortable now. Have I been imagining things? How many times did she come by, again? Was it really out of the ordinary? "I-- uh, did you want to see me for something?" She looks puzzled. "What do you mean?" Dammit. "I noticed you coming by my desk a bunch of times today, and I figure I've been so busy and maybe you didn't want to bother me. But obviously, I was wrong." I make for the door. "Wait," she calls out before I can reach the knob. "There are some things we need to discuss." I turn around and look at her. "Yes?" "Come and sit down," she requests, gesturing to one of the chairs in front of her. I sit back. It's comfortable enough. "Is this about my performance?" I ask. I thought I'd been doing pretty damned good for my first six months here. She smiles slightly. "In a way." She pushes her chair back from the desk, leaning back a little. "Your performance here in the past several months has been adequate." Adequate? Great. That's not too far above "sucky". She leans back a bit farther in her chair, crossing her legs and putting one of her shoes on the desk. "In some cases, more than adequate." Hooray. I'm jumping for joy. "But let's ignore that for the time being. I'm wondering more about your personal opinions about working here. Are you comfortable in your current position?" She gets more comfortable in her current position by putting her other shoe on the desk, her legs now crossed at the ankles. Nice ankles, I notice. High heels. Black hose. Very tas-- wait a second! This is my boss I'm looking at. Hell, technically this is my boss's boss's boss. I need to focus on what she's saying. But now I fear she's noticed my apprecation of her, as she arches an eyebrow when I meet her gaze again. "Are you going to answer my question?" Shit. What was her question? "Uh... I'm sorry? Could you repeat that?" Idiot!!! She is amused rather than angry. "I asked," she repeats, "how you enjoy working under me?" She uncrosses her ankles and leaves her heels slightly apart on the desk. "Oh! I enjoy it a lot. The tasks are enjoyable, and there seems to always be room for advancement." "I see," she replies, and parts her legs a bit. I'm sweating as I notice her expensively-tailored loose dress skirt is slipping up her thighs, revealing... more of her than I should be seeing. I quickly look away, but she's caught me again. To my amazement, she's still not angry at my lack of attention, but instead seems to be breaking into a grin. I'm thinking again about how she's been hanging around my desk, as she's sliding her legs back and forth, together and apart, like she's at home in front of the TV instead of at her desk talking to a junior employee. "Well, I'd like to offer you an advancement opportunity that is simultaneously a task you'll enjoy." She laughs, then, tossing her curly red hair. Her meaning is becoming abundantly too clear, as she smiles broadly and looks me in the eye. "I, uh, don't know what to say?" "I have some ideas. How about, 'I'm going to snack on your pussy until you scream'?" I am speechless. Utterly. Aroused too, but that goes without saying-- this woman is amazingly hot. Mostly just speechless. She's laughing, now, as she reaches across the desk, grabbing my tie and pulling me forward. She's pushed her chair back, now, and I'm sprawled on her desk as she grabs me with both hands and drags me across it. I'm struggling for a modicum of dignity by crawling across myself, but when I come off the other edge, she puts both hands on my shoulders, looks me straight in the eyes, and pushes me down. Down between her lewdly spread legs, down below her desk, down where I want to be! She's not wearing panties, which is shocking, though convenient; her silky hose rub my cheek as I delve into the billowy depths of her skirt, seeking my prize... her bush is luxuriant and damp, and her smell has filled my nostrils the second my face crossed her hemline. I am unable to think about anything more than having my tongue in her slit for as long as she'll let me. I circle her clitoris with my tongue, lightly kneading it for awhile before dropping lower and sampling the stronger juices from within her inner lips. She's as delicious as I thought, and I savor her while I lick some of those precious juices up again to her clit. She's moaning quietly now, saying things that would probably shock me if I could hear her, but her thighs are tightly pressed against my ears. I feel her moving, and intensify my assault on her clit, sticking my tongue deep inside her cunt when she finally comes. As she relaxes in bliss, there's a knock on her door. Fuck! I think. We'll probably both be fired! I get ready to stand up, but she shakes her head at me and pushes me all the way under her desk, pulling her sopping wet chair forward and resuming her position there. "Come in," she says, though her voice cracks a bit. The door opens, and I can hear that it's her admin, coming to ask about some detail of a presentation. I can't imagine how she can't know something is up; I can see from my vantage point that my boss's face is flushed beet red, and the smell of her sex has to be permeating the room. But the secretary actually engages her in conversation, talking about a trip to Maui or some other silly thing. I'm actually amused by this, and still aroused, so the mischievous urge comes upon me to start my licking again. I start at her ankle and work my way up one stocking and down the other. She giggles slightly, covering the quaver in her voice as I resume my way up her thigh and once again fix my mouth upon her pussy. I'm licking gently, now, so as to not cause too much noise, but I'm becoming lust-filled at the taste of this woman's cunt and I'm unable to keep my slow pace. I attack her clitoris, her voice cracking as she tries to pretend to be interested in the conversation, and I'm sticking my finger into her as I slide my lips around her clit and suck her into my mouth. She's pulsing with ecstasy, right now, her voice strained in her conversation, and her body rigid with impending release, but completely out of control; she stifles her cries in a laugh, but I can tell from the sarcastic tone of the secretary's voice that she's not fooled at all. In fact, she makes some sort of comment about enjoying herself, and mentions my name as one of the handsomer guys in the office; the mention of my name is apparently too much for her, and she climaxes all over my face, dropping her hands to the back of my head and pulling me deep within her sopping wetness. I hear the assistant laughing hard, then the door slamming. I look up into the eyes of my victim, and see only desire and pleasure. "Who's the boss, now?" I ask. She doesn't need to answer. Beneath the Surface People watching, it's a fascinating way to pass the time isn't it? Take my current location at the moment, I'm sat at the end of a substantial stainless steel bar top. A row of numerous beer taps is arrayed down the centre of the bar, carefully stacked rows of glasses and spirits around it. I quietly sip at my second pint of Boddingtons savoring the slow smooth creamy taste as it slips down my throat. To anyone watching me I'm lost in the latest game playing on one of the many plasma screens hanging above the bar or from the various walls and pillars. If you are watching me as closely as I am watching everyone else in the bar you will notice my eyes are taking in more than they at first appear to, I'm neither staring intently nor flitting my gaze from place to place. Just a slow sweeping glance from time to time. Behind the bar we have the young barmaid and barman. She's barely into her twenties and he is on his way out of his. Her face is smooth and pale, his tanned and shadowed with stubble. She is a classic example of the more curvaceous end of the athletic body frame scale. Her chest a little to pronounced for her height, her hips tapered with a tight ass and shapely toned legs. His neck hints at strong but not over developed shoulders. Sat further down the bar is an older woman, power dressed in her late thirties. Her skin tells tales of beach skating on the weekends and long hikes in the desert. She sips quietly at the dark Martini her burgundy lips leaving faint hints of her lip stick on the rim of her glass. She glances at the barmen from time to time, her body sending of the quiet signals or a restful predator. Her hand fidgets with the keys of her BMW next to her drink on the bar. In between glances at the barman she is checking out the group of diners sat behind her. The group consists of six people, five guys and one woman. They are indistinguishable from any other group of business co-workers that you would catch in here any evening. Three technical staff are obvious by their shirts, khakis and gadgets, one tastefully dressed executive, one not so tastefully dressed executive who seems to be tracking the stock ticker of CNN and the young female administrative type. They are laughing, sharing stories, enjoying their drinks for the most part. Behind them in a booth is another couple, casually sitting back watching a game and picking over their appetizers. The staff meanders from group to group seating other diners and guests, taking drink orders and skillfully carrying platters of food to their hungry patrons. That's how it all looks on the surface anyways. Let's look a little deeper shall we? Starting with the CFO accountant looking member of the larger group. He's taking a call on his cell phone now, his eyes resting on the young administrative assistant when she isn't looking. Eyes that carry a weight to them, a quiet guilt as he asks his wife how their newborn is doing, he reassures her that he will be home within a couple of hours. The admin assistant strokes the back of her leg, the slit of her knee length skirt revealing a glimpse of the inside of the back of her thigh. She pulls the material of her pantyhose away from her skin, the slick white wetness that was drying against her skin reflects the light. She smiles quietly into her drink. Next the older woman sat at the bar. See her fidgeting with her keys again? She's watching two of the technical geeks behind her talking animatedly at each other. They are young thin men, yet she seems entranced with watching them reflected in the mirror behind the bar. She sips her glass slowly and her iris's widen and narrow as she thumbs the button on her car keys. Her mind has the two skinny men disrobing, their pale naked bodies embracing their mouths hungrily kissing. Then the blond bends over the table pushing plates of food onto the floor to make room. The darker haired of the two slowly enters his co-worker from behind. The blond locks eyes with her before he moans quietly. She thumbs the remote again. Nestled inside her, held in place by her panties the small egg shaped device sends out another spasm of vibrations inside her. The CEO carefully adjusts in his seat. His slow movements prompting a question to his well being. His response? A spill from his mountain bike on his 3 mile ride the evening before. Beneath the tailored suit, beneath the smartly pressed dress shirt. Whip trails and blood scars dissect his back, his mistress punished him well last night. He smiled and stretched his shoulders enjoying the slow burn of the skin pulling. The waitress walks up to him and hands him the bill. She walks away and turns hovering pretending to be attentive as he reviews the bill and places the pen to his lips contemplating her tip. His lips purse around the end of it and she smiles not caring how badly the group stiffs her this time. She knows where that pen was mere moments before, she subconsciously pinches the underwear out of her ass. The couple in the booth sits and says nothing, the woman's neck muscles contracting. Unseen the hand of her companion is buried down the back of her dress, his fingers are hot and wet between her thighs and the tip of an index finger teases in and out of her asshole while he mutters about his filthy adventures in her ear. A glass breaks as the barmaid straightens suddenly and lets go of it. She crouches to clean it up, the older woman suddenly attentive to her. Just as the girl is starting to rise again the older lady keys her remote. The barmaids' knees tremble as her knuckles whiten around the neck of a bottle of Chopin. Me? I just like to people watch.