3 comments/ 79211 views/ 2 favorites Discretion By: Discretion Denise... I can't do this! Just wait a minute, okay? Annie! I'm watching someone I like (God! I didn't know I liked her this much!) making love to another woman! They're not making love. They're having sex. Big fucking distinction! It still hurts! Just watch, okay? Petulantly, Denise crossed her arms. She stuck out her lower lip. "I'll watch," she said. "But you know I don't like it." By now, Kristen's mouth was attached to Jane's left nipple, while cupping Jane's right breast in her hand. Denise had seen Jane naked before, just as Jane had seen her. She liked the other woman's small, taut breasts, because Denise had small breasts herself. The thing first tipping Jane to Denise's interest, in fact, was catching Denise's eyes on her breasts. Denise closed her eyes. What are you doing? Just wait, Denise said. Concentrating, Denise envisioned their last time together. It was a week ago, in the upstairs gym. Jane had just whipped Denise badly at hand ball, and they were on their way to the shower. Jane suddenly stopped, saying she had to go back her locker. Denise went on ahead. Starting a shower and removing her robe, she then stood beneath the hot spray, fully expecting Jane to shower across the room, if she showed up at all. Since finding her out, Jane had maintained her distance. It therefore caught Denise by surprise when Jane turned on the shower beside her. Lathering up her hair, Jane had asked: "Are you going to the dance?" Feeling one step behind, Denise said: "Dance? Oh, you mean the Christmas Party?" "Uh, huh," Jane said, rinsing her face. Given this opportunity, Denise stared long and hard at Jane's breasts. Smaller even that her own Jane's breasts were tipped with nutmeg colored aureole and nipples, the nipples large and puffy. Denise wondered what they would feel like in her mouth. "I have to work," Denise said. "They're not letting you off?" Jane protested. Denise watched lather flow down Jane's stomach and between her legs. Like herself, Jane was shaved completely bare. "Low woman on the totem pole," she said. "Well that just sucks," Jane said. "With whom do I talk?" You mean who's cock do you suck? Denise thought. Because that's the only why I'm getting off for that party. "It's okay," she said. "Truth is--" she leaned in confidentially "--I'm not old enough to drink. And I hate getting carded, and I know they will there." Jane shrugged. "A building full of personal injury lawyers? I imagine you're right." She cleared mascara from her eyes. She blinked water away. "You're not twenty-one?" Denise nodded. "Not for another three months." "You poor child," Jane said, laughing and placing her hand on Denise's shoulder. "I never would have imagined." Hopefully, Denise asked, "How old do I look?" "About fifteen," Jane said. They both laughed at that. A week later, that conversation made sense. Jane knew very well Denise worked tonight, and that she was alone, having asked pointedly about that. And as a member of the security liaison committee--they reviewed building security and advised the staff--this was something Jane could easily confirm. Denise began to grow convinced. "But why like this?" she asked, again feeling jealous. "With that bimbo, instead of with me?" Annie answered for her: Maybe the bimbo was first. "The airhead? You must be kidding!" Annie said: Remember Meredith? Slowly, Denise nodded. If someone had told her days, hours, even minutes in advance, that she and Meredith would remove each other's clothing and make love in Meredith's broken down Toyota, Denise would have laughed. Or slapped that person's face. But that's exactly what happened. To this day, a pair of Denise's Victoria's Secret panties were lost in that car. "It still doesn't make sense," Denise said, watching the screen. Annie patiently said: She knows you're watching, Denise, and she wants you to see. Ergo, she wants you as much as you want her. It's her way of letting you know. Denise muttered, "A simple, æHi there, let's fuck', would have sufficed." Downstairs, Kristen had switched breasts and was now attached to Jane's right nipple. Jane's left nipple stuck out like an accusatory finger. And though Jane stroked Kristen's hair in a very tender way, her eyes were locked on the ceiling. They were trained on Denise's own. "Does she know?" Denise wondered, aloud. "Where it is?" Her most obvious guess, Annie suggested. As she breathed in long and deep breaths, her chest going visibly up and down, Jane's eyes remained glued to the spot. Suddenly, Denise slid back in her chair, undoing the buckle on her belt. About damned time, Annie said. Shut up. I thought I'd never get relief. Will you shut up? Please? Casting one last look around, Denise sighed and ran her hand down her pants. Her fingers went beneath her panties, sliding gently over her skin. They found the hood covering her clitoris. Maneuvering herself apart, Denise's middle finger began a slow and gentle dance. Immediately, she shuddered. Annie, sighed. Now, that's what I'm talking about, girl. Denise did not tell her to shut up. Downstairs in copy room ten, Kristen disengaged from Jane's right nipple and, after momentarily laying her head in Jane's lap, began raising Jane's dress. Jane stopped her. They talked for a long while, voices too low to hear. Denise strained to hear, regardless. "Please don't let her," Denise whispered. "Please?" Finally acquiescing, Jane sat back and Kristen raised her dress around Jane's waist. Then Kristen slid Jane's panties down her thighs and Denise closed her eyes. Her lips moved silently, in protest, before she looked again. If Jane wanted her to watch, Denise would oblige her. Her panties off and her genital's completely exposed, Jane silently watched the lens, her mouth open and her chest going up and down. Her nipples were very, very hard. Then Kristen kissed the tops of her thighs, then their insides, then spread her legs apart. With Jane's assistance, she brought Jane forward and draped her legs over the arms. Widespread, Jane now offered herself for consumption. Kristen buried her face into Jane's crotch. "I can't watch this," Denise said. But her eyes never left the screen. While Kristen's head worked in circular fervor, Denise duplicated the motion on her clitoris. She slid farther out on the chair, letting her legs spread apart, and let her other hand steal inside shirt. She freed her breasts from the brassiere--they were already in full bloom--and began to caress them. She began to moan, softly. On screen, Jane was again locked on the camera. "I want to eat you," Denise whispered. "Oh, God, I do." She bit her lower lip. "Please, Jane? Will you let me, please?" Jane's breathing was now more pronounced, her chest starting to heave, her eyes were big and round. She looked desperate for release. She squirmed beneath Kristen's tongue and lips, and Denise squirmed as well. "I want you," Denise moaned. Her eyes half shut, she missed Jane's answering message. "I want you, Denise," Jane silently mouthed. Displaying a sudden, mischievous, don't-you-dare-do-this grin, Denise unbuttoned her shirt and pulled out the tails. She pulled her bra cups aside, baring her chest. Both of them were now bare-chested. Then Denise slipped the shirt back over her shoulders and yanked out her arms, and slipped off the bra. She let it fall to the floor. "You," she said. "Are absolutely, completely nuts!" Certifiable, Annie said. Downstairs, Jane was becoming orgasmic. Her head twisted back and forth, and she bit down on her lower lip. Her eyes were half-closed--or half-opened--but still trained on the camera's eye. Her chest heaved up and down and her hands alternately gripped the arms of the chair, and the back of Kristen's head. She mouthed her words again. And again Denise missed them. Up in the fishbowl, Denise exclaimed, "Oh, what the fuck!" and unzipped her uniform pants. Shoving them down, she put her hand inside her panties, and speared her vagina. She gasped. Crying, "What the fuck!" even more loudly, she took off both her panties and pants. Then, wrapping her shirt haphazardly about her middle in imitation of Jane's collapsed dress, Denise threw open her legs. She straddled the arms. "Eat me!" she yelled, filling her vagina with fingers. Then, both she and her Jane began to climax. * * * Denise was immensely grateful for soundproofing. Laying back in the chair, collapsed, panting and red in the face, she looked fearfully at the fishbowl door. "You know," she panted to her other self, "Ed could decide to check in." Annie said: And he could bring his wife. "And he could bring his wife," Denise laughed. "And pretty much everyone else." Imagine his shock, Annie said. "Imagine mine." Just for that reason, Denise swiveled herself toward the door. Spreading her legs wide, smiling a very naughty smile, she put her middle inside herself and pleasured her g-spot. Then, putting the juice-covered finger in her mouth, she sucked it clean. Then she laughed again. "I am certifiably nuts!" she cried. Downstairs, Jane was getting dressed. Denise caught a final look at her adorable breasts, then Jane bent down and put on her panties. Denise scowled when Jane allowed Kristen to kiss her. Then Jane laughed. "Whatever am I ever going to do with you?" she said. "Take me home to bed." Kristen replied. She straightened her own dress, then helped Jane adjust hers. "Would you please?" Kristen asked, again. "Fuck you," Denise muttered, in sudden anger. "Right up the ass." Putting her arm around Kristen's waist, and casting one last look at the ceiling, Jane replied. "We'll talk about it, later." Then they left, leaving Jane's folder behind. * * * "Quiet night?" Mike Horner asked. He was Denise's replacement. It was four o'clock in the morning. "Same as always," Denise said, zipping her gym bag. "Did you go to the party?" Mike yawned. Then he stretched his arms. Joints went pop in his back. "Yeah," he said. "Until twelve o'clock. Then I went home." He looked at the control board. "Anything I should know?" Denise said, "The feed for copy room ten doesn't seem to be recording. Other than that..." She shrugged. "Not a whole lot of anything." Around two a.m., Denise had gone through the tapes, locating the cassette for copy room ten. She had removed it and put in a blank. The tape was safely stashed in her bag. "Good night, Mike," she said. "Night." Walking slowly to the bank of elevators, Denise sighed and deeply yawned. She was really tired. And morose. And jealous. She thought she hated Kristen Fishlaw. "I bet you smell like a fish," she muttered. On the way down, Denise stopped at the tenth floor and went to copy room ten. She retrieved Jane's errant folder from the machine's cover and looked it through. To her untrained eye, the contents seemed innocent enough. Something to do with Enron Corp. Maybe she'd let Jane confirm that, later on tonight, when she knocked on Jane's door. Then she laughed at herself, knowing she'd do no such thing. Dropping both the folder and the Sony cassette tape in an interoffice envelope, Denise wrote out a short note, adding her telephone number at the end. This she placed in the envelope as well. Then she went to Jane Marsh's office and left the envelope in her mailbox. Then she went home. On Monday morning, at eight o'clock sharp, still asleep in her bed, Denise got a phone call.